61
PRESENT DAY
Zayne (38 years)
Declan’s call left me out of sorts. While one part of me asked that I reconsider giving him a chance, another begged to see him again, argued that it wasn’t his fault. Since Ria’s death almost five years ago, I’d never gone back to Portland, never took Sam or Declan’s calls.
I stayed away from anything that reminded me of Ria. I’d forced myself into a life of solitude. Yet six months after Ria’s death and as if fate had deemed, I’d suffered enough, it brought Ashrika out of her coma. And just like me, fate had dealt her a cruel hand. Thus began my life of nurturing her back into rewriting a blank slate. She’d been given a new leash and I thought I had to because she was teaching me to live again, to possibly love again. Only fate blindsided me once more.
I returned from a business trip intending to let her know how I felt about her, only to be railroaded by Trent Shaw. Then an enemy, now a friend.
“Zayne!” Declan waved me down from a table at the back of the restaurant he’d texted me to meet at.
He stood when I neared and I could see him faltering, unsure whether to shake my hand or lean in for a hug. I decided for him and opened my arms. Relief seemed to flood his handsome features before we came together in a tight embrace. One I’d missed, one my heart felt happy with my decision to agree to see him. When we were seated and drinks order, I took a moment to study him.
He'd matured and filled out on the muscle front. No longer the lean, computer geek I’d labeled him over and over.
“You’re looking dapper in your old age,” he teased. Okay, not so mature.
“Since when is thirty-eight considered old age. I can fuck a woman harder than you ever would and she’ll come thrice in the time it takes you to find your cock.” I lifted a brow. Grinning, he leaned back in his seat. “Stick with me and I’ll teach you a thing or two, boy.”
His smile morphed into a saddened droop. “I tried to remember and you shut me out,” he said, his tone accusing.
“Yeah, well, circumstances are a mean motherfucker, Declan and you placed yourself on the wrong end of my gun. You should be lucky I didn’t pull the fucking trigger. Unlike you, I never miss,” the last part was clearly wrong, but I couldn’t hold back. Maybe I was looking to blame someone, maybe not.
Instead of anger, his look was a toss-up between understanding and regret. I wasn’t sure which played a bigger role. “I’m sorry, Zayne, and it's why I’m here.” At my questioning gaze, he seemed to draw in a deep breath and puffed it out just as quickly. “Ria is alive.”
For just one stupid moment, my heart plunged to my fucking toes and bounced right back up with a middle finger salute. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I hissed.
“Please, bro, hear me out,” he begged as the waiter brought our drinks.
The reprieve gave Declan a chance because I was just about to pummel my right hook into his face. I tossed back the whiskey in a single gulp and said to the waiter, “another.” As she moved away, I stopped her. “Bring me the bottle.” Then I looked at Declan. “Spill and you better fucking hope I’m drunk by the time you finish, or you might miss your flight home over a lengthy stay in the hospital.”
Declan swallowed then rubbed his brow. “First. I only took that hit because of the surveillance on Gianna Salvatore, please you have to believe me if I knew she was Ria, I would’ve missed.” I merely stared and he shifted in his seat. He’d seen my anger out in the field, he’d never witnessed it first-hand until Ria disappeared, now he knew and it still hadn’t prepared him. “After you left, I never stopped trying to find out what happened to her, why she disappeared. One unlikely trip to Japan changed all of that.”
I sat back in my seat as the waitress returned with the whiskey bottle and poured me a shot which I immediately down. Then with my elbow on the armrest, my face resting in the cup of my thumb and forefinger, I waited for him to continue. He proceeded to relay a story that got more unbelievable by the second and when he finished, I’d tossed back five shots of whiskey.
“This friend I met in Japan works for the Black Daggers. His name is Crow and in his position, he has access to just about everything.”
I sat forward and steepled my fingers. “So, this Crow knows everything that happened in Japan, how do you know she survived your bullet?” I asked, not wanting to acknowledge that slow tingle of hope churning up my spine.
“Remo and I met up for drinks. I know his brother, Lorenzo has ties with Salvatore. Remo said that she ran the Salvatore business for a while because her husband, Vincenzo was holed up on some private holiday island. I’m assuming this was after Gianna’s return from Japan.”
“Still not answering my question, Declan,” I growled, annoyance cutting a clean hole through my patience.
