“No. Of course not. God forbid hetellme anything.”
I stare at her. “Can you help me?”
She raises her brow. Smiles in a way that is not a smile at all. “Why would I help you?”
“Because I don’t want your husband. I wantmyhusband. And as long as I’m with mine”—assuming he’s not trafficking people,I add silently—“I am obviously not with yours.”
She sits down in the nearby chair, shoulders slouched. She sighs. “What do you want?”
“I just need to know where he is.”
“And then what are you going to do?”
“Get my husband back.”And try to sort out this mess.God, what if Brian isn’t guilty of anything? What if he’s only guilty of being with someone like me?
“And tomyhusband? What are you going to do with him?”
I tilt my head. Ian took Brian. Ian is maybe obsessed with me. He lied to me. Betrayed me. I’m not sure what I’ll do. If I were a different type of psychopath, I’d kill him. But I’m not like him. At least, I’ll keep telling myself that.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
She smiles for real this time. “Maybe don’t kill him. But put a bullet somewhere it will hurt.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“I’m Victoria.” She holds ahand out. “Do not, under any circumstance, ever call me Vicky.”
My lips curve up and I take her hand in mine. “You already know my name.”
“How can I help you?” Her words are kind, an offer to assist—exactly what I need—but her eyes are full of furious scheming. She’s not helping me, not really. She’s helping herself by using me. But it serves my purpose, and that’s good enough.
“I need to talk to Ian.”
“Easy.” She goes to a black purse resting on the bed, pulls out a phone, swipes, presses a button, and suddenly, it’s ringing on speakerphone.
“My love,” croons a man’s voice—Ian’s. But it’s different somehow. Like with Victoria, Ian is a different person. “I’m working, but can I call you back in half an hour?”
Thirty minutes. Is that how long Brian has left to live? A fresh dose of panic sets in—he could die. I’ll never have a chance to know who he really is, if he truly loves me. If our family matters to him, what he’s hiding and why.
The reality is that my fear of him finding out whoIreally am is one reason he’s in danger now. Because there was no way for me to explain knowing his secret without exposing my own. But now it’s too late. Now, there is no way to keep it to myself.
I can’t rescue Brian as Nadia, events planner, mom, wife. I can only rescue him as Nadia, hitwoman. Which will likely put an end to us too. Even if whatever he’s doing is forgivable, I’ve been lying to him. But it’s that or his death. At least this way he has a chance.
“I’m in your hotel room,” Victoria purrs. It’s impossible to miss the thread of impatience. “And where are you?”
“You’re in Texas?” He sighs. “I told you, I’m working.”
“Are you sure?” The pitch of her voice changes, challenging him.
“My love, it is only you. Please stop this nonsense. Why would I answer the phone if I’m with another woman?”
I almost feel bad for lying to her—even if it was the tiniest of lies. Clearly, this is something they’ve discussed before, likely because she’s suspicious of him. And for good reason. If I hadn’t put a stop to it, Ian and I would have had sex. At the time, I simply hadn’t cared much about him having a wife—I thought about how my own husband was cheating on me, lying to me, how I had every right to do the same to him. But now I wonder if I’m not the only one Ian has gotten physical with besides Victoria. Ian is one smooth player.
“Where are you,darling?” she demands. The emphasis ondarlingis not loving. It’s threatening. My eyes widen. Victoria is a good match for Ian. She knows what he does for a living and isn’t afraid to speak to him this way. I like her more for it.
“I can’t tell you. Now listen, I’m in the middle of something. I have to go. Stay there, I’ll come back soon. We can talk, have dinner—”
Victoria raises her gaze to me, questioning. She holds out the phone, and I don’t hesitate to snatch it up.
