Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1 (31 page)

Mark.
That fucker worked every angle possible.
Jeesh.

But the kid wasn’t finished. He was juiced up and ready to roll.

“And about Rain. Yeah, at first it was just the job, lying in wait for Il Morte to show up. But now, after watching her for months, listening to her conversations, hearing her deepest darkest thoughts when she thinks no one is listening. Watching how you’ve hurt her, jerked her around, treated her in a way she should never be treated, I’ve come to care about her. And I
will
have her. As soon as I take Il Morte down, I’m coming back to pick up the pieces you threw away. Thanks for that by the way.”

He leaned forward and patted me on the shoulder. “You fucking up has made my job so much easier.”

Hearing her deepest darkest thoughts when she thinks no one is listening.

“Did you bug her house?”

His shoulders lifted an inch, but he couldn’t control the look of satisfaction that crossed his face. “It was a very pretty necklace.”

I couldn’t hold back a minute longer. When he touched me, I grabbed his hand, brought it in front of my chest and curled it forward so that his wrist was extended with his fingers bent at a fucked-up angle.

A bit more pressure and I would break his fucking wrist. I tightened my grasp around his hand. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Way.”

His hand turned red and I released it.

Bent over at the waist, he muffled a sound of pain and cradled his wrist in his good hand. “You’re a fucking animal.”

I stood. “Goddamn right, I am.”

* * * * *

That had been hard. Harder than I ever expected.

Walking out of that coffee shop and leaving Kael behind was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.

I bit my lip, tried to stop the tears threatening to flood down my face. I’d already had a glass of wine…or two. The minute I’d opened my door, the first thing I did was run to the kitchen.

It couldn’t be helped. I needed to forget. I needed something to staunch the bleeding of my heart. Only I wasn’t sure if the wine had helped or only made it flow harder.

I hurt. My heart hurt. My head hurt. I wanted to peel off my skin and become somebody else, at least until the pain subsided.

I stared at my closet, wondering what to do, where to go. I wanted to be someone or something else.

But most of all, I missed Kael. Missed the way he kissed me, missed the way he touched me. His passion, his aggression, the one thing I both hated and loved about him.

I stepped out of my clothes and gently touched my breasts, remembering the rough way he’d touched me and felt tears well in my eyes. My fingers trailed around my nipples and I thought of the way his teeth had tugged on the tender flesh there, painfully and pleasurably so.

A tingle of desire shot through my center and I closed my eyes, exhaled, reliving the artful way he’d brought me to unconsciousness.

Kael.

I opened my eyes. I could use another drink. I looked out my window. It was dusk, the sun almost set. Soon it would be dark, another hot and humid Carolina night. And I wanted to be lost in it, somebody else for the moment.

Not Rain Howard. Definitely not her. Because she was the woman who’d hooked up with a killer. She was the woman who had a best friend that lied to her face over and over again. She was the woman who’d lost the love of her life. Again.

For one night, I’d like to be a different sort of woman, one who didn’t give a damn about anybody or anything. The type of woman who only cared for her own pleasure. I didn’t want to be alone. Right now, I really wanted…company.

I thought of the way Kael had made love to me. Aggressively, passionately… I wanted to feel that way again, out of my head…overwhelmed by sensation, numb to the pain that throbbed in my heart.

Still naked, I lay on my bed and opened my laptop. Fingers flying over the keyboard, I searched and started Googling:
breath play
,
spanking
… A night of reckless abandon with a heavy-handed stranger would work. There had to be someplace I could go, a place to give me what I needed right now. I just wanted to forget everything. Forget Kael. Forget the love we’d lost. Forget myself.

I found a website, a place in Raleigh, in the warehouse district downtown. I clicked on the URL and a black-and-white picture developed in front of me. A pretty blonde wearing lingerie, stilettos and a gag across her mouth stared back at me.

The Crow. A private club for pretty people who like it rough.
I began clicking through the website. Yeah, this would do fine.

A strong drink, dim lights and anonymity. For just one night, I wanted to forget everything and everybody.

It was late and the late dinner crowd lingered over coffee and dessert. I checked in with the hostess and asked to see the owner. I waited at the bar, gazing out the front window and noticed a white Porsche out front.

Had always loved a fast car.

The bartender laughed. “Must be nice, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s a great car.”

He pushed a bowl of popcorn toward me. “The boss gets the blonde girlfriend and the sports car.” He grinned. “One day.”

I gazed at the car. That was Luke’s car. I stood up for a closer look and memorized the license plate number. Habit.

A few moments later, the bartender led me to an office deep within the kitchen.

Luke looked up when I entered, a grim smile on his face and the phone to his ear. He pointed to a chair, spoke his thanks into the phone while I closed the door behind me.

“Bro?” He set the phone down. His American accent was perfect. New Jersey with an edge of street.

I shook my head. “Don’t bro me, Luke. What the fuck is going on?”

“Sorry, I was just ordering a delivery.” He loosened the olive green tie around the collar of his soft yellow shirt.

“You’re in deep shit, Kael. Somebody wants you dead. What are you doing about it besides mooning over your lost love?”

I took a deep breath. This again. “Why are you here, Luke? Why are you pretending to be an Italian restaurant owner? What’s the mission? Who is the assignment?”

He gave me a thoughtful look but didn’t speak.

“How could you be in the same city as me and not even let me know? We go way back.”

Amidst the stacks of paper covering his desk was a glass of white wine. He picked up the glass and held it up, a hint of a amusement on his lips. “Have you ever known me to drink wine, bro?”

He shook his head. “As Gian-Carlo, I had to start scarfing this stuff down. Not bad as far as alcohol goes. Finally figured out I can bear a heavy, super dry Cab. Or a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, like this one.” He took a sip. “Have one?”

I shook my head and waited.

“Do you think I could just stand by and wait for Il Morte to off you while you’re making googly eyes at everyone’s favorite beignet maker?”

“Don’t even say her name.”

“I get it. She’s beautiful. She’s sweet. And that body.” He held up his hand. “I don’t mean any disrespect, bro. Just saying, I get it, the obsession with her.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“If it wasn’t for her, you’d have found Il Morte by now.” He took another sip of wine, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the taste. “As is, he’s found you.”

I leaned forward, getting pissed off with Luke’s riddles. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned back in his chair, wineglass in hand. “I’m Il Morte.”

“Stop shitting me, Luke.”

He shook his head, a slow smile appearing on his face. “You’re looking for a European right?”

He drained his glass and set it on his desk. “I became a naturalized American when I joined the Marines.” He grinned at me. “I speak French, Italian, Swiss, German and English, all flawlessly.”

I stared at him, still not used to seeing him with blue eyes. “You never mentioned it.”

He shrugged. “You never asked. To be fair, it never came up and I’ve always been pretty tight-lipped about my background.”

“I know you’ve got family in New Jersey.” I thought for a moment and drew a blank. That was all I knew. Everything else was present knowledge gained from spending time together in training and then on missions.

How was it possible that Luke was the guy I’d been looking for? Luke was the one tasked with killing me? The one who’d threatened Rain’s life? Would I have to kill the closest friend I’d ever had?

“Consider yourself lucky that you know that. That’s more than anyone else knows.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple. “And the restaurant?”

“A cover. But a clever one. I like good food, so it worked well.”

“Is Luke Winters even your real name?”

He inclined his head. “In a way. It’s the American version. My name is Luca. Luca d’Inverno. The light of winter.”

I thought about Charlotte, remembering the ways she looked at me with her arm wrapped around Luke. Like she had a prize. She was going to be angry when she found out Luke had been playing her the entire time.

And now I knew what it felt like to be lied to. I got why Rain didn’t want to be with me. It didn’t hurt any less, but at least I understood the depth of betrayal lies caused. I was hurt. I was fucking hurt to find out my best friend was Il Morte. And he wanted to kill the woman I loved.

“Why get involved with the roommate?”

“Access.” He looked pleased with himself. “I knew you’d show up eventually. And I wanted to stay close in case somebody else was sent in to finish you off.”

“So,” I said sarcastically, “you’ve been protecting me?”

He nodded. “I’ve always had your back, bro. Just like you had mine in Salamiyah.”

I thought of that day three years ago, when we were riding horses through a small dusty town in Western Syria. It was about a hundred and five degrees and we were dressed like natives riding horseback through a small rural village.

Neither of us felt good about the meet, but we were tasked with making a deal with a traitor. He was a traitor to his people and a traitor to the US.

Assholes like that couldn’t be trusted with anything. And why The Group wanted to deal with this guy was beyond either my or Luke’s understanding. But we carried a leather bag full of American dollars with us, and if this guy played ball, he’d be richer than he ever dreamed.

We were supposed to be meeting a local man, a merchant who promised to introduce us to the local warlord who’d also conveniently been trained by the US, but all he did was lead us into an ambush.

I’d spotted the sniper posted on top of a minaret to our right immediately. He was aiming for Luke when I shot him. In fact, the first shot whistled by so close to Luke’s head that it knocked him off his horse, grazing his ear. The sniper didn’t get a second shot.

I’d yanked Luke up before he had time to hit the ground, swung him onto my horse and gave him the reins while I provided cover until we were out of danger.

Later that night, we returned, found the merchant and killed him for our troubles. And the warlord? He’d never been there in the first place.

“How did you become Il Morte?”

He stood, stretching his arms. “A few years back, I got bored.”

I laughed. “We’re all adrenaline junkies.”

He turned and looked at me. “Yeah, but I wanted more…killing. Getting the bad guys. Clearing the world of filth. I can’t get enough of it.” His eyes lit up. “You know the shit we’ve seen, the pure unadulterated evil that walks this planet.” His hands curled into fists. “The Group doesn’t go far enough.”

Well this was interesting. Maybe he felt like me after all. “So you’re disillusioned with the direction of The Group too?”

He laughed. “The world is a chessboard. All The Group is doing is moving the pieces around, exchanging one king for another. I want to take the kings and queens out permanently. I want to personally remove every single remnant of evil, make this world a better place. That’s why I’m here. That’s my purpose. To destroy evil.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “Were you like this before The Group, before MARSOC?”

He laughed and sat on the edge of his desk, closer to me. “Am I freaking the boy scout out? I grew up a good Catholic boy, devout, studious. How could I not? My father used to be a priest before he fell in love with my mother and chose her over saving souls. Chose a woman over edifying the populace against evil.”

He sounded bitter. Bitter that his father chose his mother over God? My head was swimming. I stood up, ready to get out of the small space.

“You’re right, I could use a drink. How about we take this to the bar? Place should be cleared out by now.”

Nodding, he opened the door and we settled at the bar. He poured himself another glass of red and a Scotch neat for me. He left the bottles on the countertop.

Except for a couple in a corner drinking coffee and a few waitstaff stacking chairs on top of tables, we were alone.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I grew up with a deep knowledge of right and wrong. Despite my father’s sins, he was a good teacher and I received, of all things, a priest’s education. Philosophy, Latin, Greek, Gregorian chants, dogmatic and moral theology, Exegesis, Canon law, and church history, I know it all backwards and forwards.”

“So, you see yourself as an avenging angel of sorts?”

He gave me an
Are you serious?
look. “In order for me to believe in angels, I’d have to believe in God.”

Okay, now I was confused. “You don’t believe in God?”

“I believe in the existence of pure evil.”

I stared into my cup, swirled the gold liquid around before finishing it. “You can’t have one without the other, Luke. The universe doesn’t work that way.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.” He reached for a bowl of peanuts and placed them between us. “Another Scotch?”

I nodded and he pushed the bottle toward me. “Help yourself.
Mi casa es su casa.
”

I poured another drink, slammed it back and poured another while he watched me patiently.

“You know, you and I could make a great team. Traveling the world, stamping out evil,” he lifted an eyebrow, “if you could just get over your distraction.”