Primal: London Mob Book Two (9 page)

C
armen and Mrs. Pendleton
created another simple but sumptuous meal, and they spent another evening in revelry with the staff. Kate was an easy addition, and Jenna was happy to see that she made a point of being cool with the three muscular guards not on duty. She felt a loosening of her worry. Kate would focus on Lily. They would both be safe surrounded by the guards, tucked away in the fairy tale villa with the hidden security system that could rival any put in place to protect the Queen.

They drank wine, ate with abandon, laughed heartily, and sang along with Ernesto, stumbling over the Italian that was slowly beginning to feel familiar. It was late when she looked across the candlelit table to find Lily in Farrell’s lap, fast asleep and slumped against his shoulder.

She looked into his eyes, and something heated and full passed between them. She felt it to her bones, that primitive connection that bound her to him through space and time and distance. It was a connection that had made him impossible to forget. One that had formed their beautiful, perfect daughter. One that threatened to hold her hostage forever.

Jenna stood, crossing the room to him. “Let me take her.”

“I’ll go, too,” he said, rising with Lily still in his arms. “I want to tuck her in one more time before we leave.”

Jenna’s heart squeezed at the thought of Farrell, so powerful and in control, so violent and dangerous, wanting to spend every last minute with the tiny girl in his arms. She nodded and they headed for the stairs.

They walked side by side in silence, winding their way through the halls of the second floor until they came to Lily’s room. Mrs. Pendleton had somehow managed to turn down Lily’s bed during dinner, and the small lamp by the bed cast soft, yellow light over the room.

Farrell lay her down and pulled up the covers, then lay a soft kiss on her forehead. He stood back as Jenna did the same, smoothing a strand of hair back from their daughter’s forehead. For a moment, neither of them moved.

“We did this,” Farrell said softly, his voice full of awe.

“We did.”

“She’s perfect.”

“She is.”

He turned to her. “Like you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not perfect.”

She was the furthest thing from perfect. She’d run from Farrell five years before, had robbed him of knowing his daughter. She’d been cowardly. She was still cowardly. Still afraid to give into her feelings. To give up the vestiges of control that seemed to be the only thing standing between her and the passion she had for the one man who had the power to both protect and destroy her.

He lifted a hand, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His eyes were midnight blue, so dark they almost looked black in the dim light of the room. “Come to bed with me, Jenna.”

She smiled a little. “I’m going to spend some time with Kate,” she said. “Tomorrow I’m all yours.”

She turned away, anxious to escape the possession in his eyes. She was at the door when his voice stopped her.

“Jenna.” She turned around. “You’ve always been all mine. You always will be.”

He held her captive in his gaze for what seemed like forever before she was able to break away. She stepped into the hall, closing the door and leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

Trying to figure out if his possession would save or destroy her.

F
arrell looked over at Jenna
, fast asleep in the seat across from him. They’d waited for Lily to wake up before leaving the villa, wanting to say goodbye. He’d been both relieved and worried when she seemed unfazed by their departure. Relieved because he never wanted his daughter to be sad or lonely.

Worried because it would make it easier for Jenna to leave — and easier for her to stay away.

She’d said she would return to Italy if it became necessary, but he wasn’t a fool; he knew Jenna Carver. The closer they got to an answer about the papers her father had stolen, the more she would want to see it through. Knowing Lily was safe and happy in Tuscany with Kate would only give her the excuse she needed.

He wouldn’t allow it. He would let her come to Amsterdam, meet with Erik Karlsen. Maybe the scientist’s reasons for being in hiding would be enough to convince her of the danger. Maybe not. Either way she would be going back to Italy while he continued on the trail of the people behind the Marburg research.

But they had one stop to make first.

“Landing in Heathrow in ten minutes, Mr. Black.”

The pilot’s voice over the loud speaker woke Jenna, and she sat up, stretching. “Did he say Heathrow?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

Farrell folded the newspaper in his lap. “He did.”

“I thought we were going to Amsterdam.” Her hair fell in long waves past her shoulders, and her eyes were still hazy from sleep. He wanted to scoop her in his arms, take her to the sleeping cabin and ravish her until she was fully awake.

“We are," he said instead. “But I have a stop to make first.”

“In London?”

“We’ll start there, yes,” he said.

She smiled. “Are you being cryptic on purpose?”

He returned his eyes to the paper he’d been trying to read, a losing battle with Jenna sleeping across the aisle. “Maybe.”

“All right then,” she said, buckling her seat belt.

They circled over the Thames, then descended to the airport. Five minutes later they were exiting the plane into a gray and humid London morning. He carried their two small bags to the waiting Lotus and opened the door for Jenna.

“What happened to the Audi?” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I only drive the Audi when I have Lily.” He shut the door and came around to the driver’s side.

“You bought an Audi just for driving Lily around?” she asked when he closed the door and started the car.

“This is no car for a child,” he said. “The Audi has the best crash rating of any European sedan.” She laughed, and he looked over at her. “Something funny?”

“I never thought I”d hear you wax poetic about safety ratings,” she said.

He scowled in spite of himself. Was she mocking him? But a moment later, she reached over and touched his thigh. The gesture sent a shock of desire to his cock.

“I think it’s very nice that you love Lily enough to think of her safety,” she said softly. “And to give up driving this beautiful car on Sundays for her.”

“I would do anything for her.” He turned to face her. “And you. Surely you know that by now.”

She nodded, favoring him with a smile. He put the car in gear and accelerated off the tarmac before he said something more.

He focused on the car, enjoying its responsiveness as they sped out of London. Concrete and high rises gave way to rolling fields. Soon there was nothing but long stretches of pasture punctuated by nothing but stands of densely packed trees. An hour later, he made the turn off for Huntington Hills. He felt Jenna’s eyes on him as they passed the sign, but he was grateful when she remained silent. He was still getting his head around the fact that he was about to divulge the only remaining secret between them.

He wasn’t ashamed of Evan. That had never been a question. Evan was his brother, and his autism did nothing to diminish the love Farrell had for him.

But he’d spent the last ten years of his life creating the Farrell Black everyone else knew and feared. That Farrell was a man who would kill to get what he wanted. Would kill even to send a message if the message was important enough. He broke the law without apology or impunity, made money off the bad debts of gamblers in the throes of addiction every bit as powerful as the one that gripped Jenna’s mother.

He wasn’t sorry. He believed every word of his explanations to Jenna; in a dog eat dog world, being the bigger, meaner dog was your only defense.

But his business also allowed him to provide for Evan. It allowed for the spacious, private suite at Huntington Hills. For the aid — one of the best in the country — who assisted Evan with the little social skills he could manage. For the security that would make it impossible for anyone to hurt him, and that was if someone could even trace Evan to him.

Somehow the revelation felt private, his love for his brother a weakness someone might exploit. It had made sense in his head all those years ago when he’d opted not to tell Jenna, but later, he couldn’t help wondering if it might have made a difference. If maybe he’d shut her out too completely from the parts of himself that made him human. The parts that bled and hurt.

The parts he stifled by fighting and beating and killing.

He didn’t know if it would have made a difference, but he didn’t want to have the regret this time around. He wanted to share his life with her — all of it. Even when it scared him. Especially when it scared him.

He shook his head, thinking about the improbability of someone like him being scared not of death or pain, but of revealing his secrets.

His few weaknesses.

But he and Jenna belonged to each other, and he would stop at nothing to prove it to her.

They were about a quarter mile from the driveway when he spotted the black van on the side of the road. He pulled the Lotus behind it and put the car in park.

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked.

“These men are mine,” he said. “I’ll explain everything. Give me a minute.”

He stepped from the car and approached the van, knowing the three men inside had already spotted him, already verified his identity. He was halfway between the car and the van when the back door opened.

“Hey, boss.” The voice came from a bulky man in tactical gear, his hair shaved so close to his head that he was perilously close to being bald.

“Markum.” Farrell called all of his men by their last name except for Leo. It kept him from getting attached, from humanizing men he might have to kill if they betrayed him or made a mistake that was catastrophic to the business.

“What can we do for you?” the man asked.

“Just checking in,” Farrell said. “Had some trouble in London, wanted to make sure everything is quiet out here.”

“I heard,” Markum said. “We’ve been extra careful. So far, so good.”

“Glad to hear it. And there are three on duty instead of two?”

Markus opened the door of the van wide enough that Farrell could see another man seated at a bank of machines that monitored communications inside the hospital. A third man sat in the front seat, a sniper rifle at his side as he looked through high-powered binoculars, scanning the grounds leading to Huntington. Both men lifted a hand in greeting, then went back to work.

Farrell nodded. “Good.”

He’d given the order from outside Jenna’s flat the night she and Lily had been attacked, and while he knew the chances were slim that anyone would defy them, he couldn’t be too careful with Evan’s safety.

“Anything else we can do?” Markus asked.

“Just keep your eye on everyone entering the grounds. Run all plates. SOP.”

Standard Operating Procedure called for all of those things, but he didn’t want to leave anything to chance now that he knew whoever was behind the Marburg virus was back on their trail.

“Will do, boss,” Markum said.

Farrell turned and headed back to the Lotus, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the car. Jenna’s gaze was glued to the van as they passed it.

“What was that about?”

“Just a security check,” Farrell said.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“A hospital of sorts,” he said, navigating the car around the winding road.

“A hospital,” she murmured.

He waited for another question, was relieved when it didn’t come. He wanted to tell her about Evan his way.

They rounded the last curve in the drive and exited into the gravel courtyard in front of the old manor house that was now Huntington Hill Rehabilitation Center. It was a lie of sorts. Most of the people who lived here would never really be rehabilitated, Evan among them. For them, it wasn’t a hospital but a home.

He parked the car next to a white van that he knew was used to take residents — the ones who could manage it — into town. Then he got out and went around to Jenna’s door.

She stepped out of the car and looked up at the building, her eyes scanning the stone facade, the big windows, the elaborate cornices. “It’s a lovely sort of hospital.”

“I like to think so,” Farrell said, taking her hand.

He sensed the questions in her eyes but wasn’t ready to answer them. He led her up the wide front steps instead, opening the door to the sunlit foyer. They walked toward a desk in the center of the room, and a young woman with red hair and blue eyes smiled.

“Mr. Black! How nice to see you again.”

“You too, Martha.” His rule about last names only applied to his men. The people at Huntington Hills were responsible for the daily care of his brother. He wanted them to remember that Evan was human, and he made sure to remember the same for them. “How is he?”

“Quite well today actually,” she said. “He was in the piano room last I checked.”

“Isn’t he always?”

She returned his smile. “You’re right about that. A lucky thing for all of us fortunate enough to hear him play.”

“I’ll see myself up,” Farrell said.

He led Jenna past the desk toward the staircase that doubled back to the second floor. She was quiet on the way up. He wondered what she was thinking, but refrained from asking. It would be better if he explained all at once.

They emerged on the second floor landing. Farrell stopped, listening for the sound of music. It didn’t come, and he took Jenna’s hand, then started down the hall toward the rooms used for art and recreation.

A young woman with short blonde hair skipped into the hall, nearly running into them. Farrell took a step back, instinctively putting himself in front of Jenna.

“Hello, Sadie,” he said.

She ignored him, continuing down the hall as if he were a ghost.

They started moving again. Farrell peered into the art room. It was busy today, with at least ten patients sitting in front of easels, painting over large swaths of paper spread out on the tables, molding clay. He scanned the faces for Evan and continued down the hall when he came up empty.

He ruled out the cafeteria, the recreational room, even the music room, its piano silent and alone, before stopping at the sun room at the end of the hall. It was empty except for a lone figure gazing out the big east facing windows.

The man had short brown hair, the back cut in a perfect line at the top of his neck. Farrell could imagine the trouble it took to get it to Evan’s liking. He had an uncanny eye for detail that, coupled with his compulsive need to have things just so, made even a haircut a major event.

Farrell looked beyond him, trying to see what he was seeing. Trying to see it the way he saw it: the open fields, the banks of trees dotting the landscape, the gray sky lit from behind by the sun that couldn’t quite break free of the clouds.

“Come on,” he said softly, leading Jenna into the room. He made no effort to be quiet, knowing Evan preferred to know when he had visitors. To hear them coming.

They had that in common at least.

He stopped next to Evan’s chair, resisting the urge to reach out, touch his back. “Hello, Evan,” he said.

“Hello.” He didn’t turn to look at Farrell when he spoke. Just continued staring into the distance, some unknown detail capturing his attention.

“This is Jenna.” He looked at Jenna. “This is my brother, Evan.”