Dangerous Alliance Page 9

  As I trot down the stairs with the mailbox key in my hand I run through my options. There must be a time when Travis, Jessica, the weekend nanny, and the Gable children will all be out at the same time . . . right? But how do I get in while they’re out? I know Jessica will leave me in the penthouse alone if she thinks I need to be there, particularly now that Travis is acknowledging me as a welcome presence. But it’s a weekend. Travis doesn’t need to be at the office. The kids don’t need to be at school. This is going to be hard. Maybe if I play lookout Lander could . . .

  My thoughts freeze in place and then evaporate as I’m faced with a new challenge to process. Outside my building, double-parked right in front of the entrance, is Micah’s limo.

  Slowly I pivot, staring up at the stairs. I could get Lander . . . and then what? The last thing I need is for him to try to protect me from Micah. I don’t need protection from Micah . . . probably. And even if I did, there is no protection from Micah. Not even Lander could help me with that.

  There’s a knock at the door. Reluctantly I turn to see Micah, standing on the other side of the glass, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

  Smiling back takes all the effort in the world. I crack open the door. “Micah,” I say as calmly as possible. “It’s Saturday, don’t you know you’re supposed to be sleeping in?”

  “Don’t you know that I almost never do what I’m supposed to?” Micah chuckles. “What’s with the wary tenant shtick? You can’t open the door all the way for an old friend?”

  “Of course.” I force a laugh and open the door a little wider. “I suppose I’m just a little surprised, is all. I’m not used to company this early.”

  “Good, good.” Micah pushes the door open a little more. “You know, being friends with me is good for you. It’s healthy. Not being friends with me?” He shrugs. “Not so healthy. And our friendship is good for me too!” he adds. “I need a friend like you right now.”

  “Come on,” I say, somewhat taken aback. “You never need anybody for anything.”

  “No, that’s not true. No man is an island and all that shit.”

  “Right,” I say, thinking again about Lander in the shower upstairs . . . or is he out? How long before he starts to wonder where I am? How long do I have before he comes striding down the stairs?

  “Would you like to take a morning ride?”

  “Um, sure . . .” I say, glancing behind me. “Let me just run upstairs and get my coat.”

  “No need, there’s a heater in the limo. It even has heated leather seats to keep your ass warm. That’s when you know you’ve made it. When you’re poor you’re subject to the whims of the weather. So when you can have a warm ass on a cold day you know you’re in business.”

  Another forced laugh from me. My cell is in the apartment. I can’t even text him.

  “Just around the block,” Micah says reassuringly. “I only want a few minutes of your time.”

  I think I hear a door opening and closing upstairs. Maybe not; that could have been something dropping on the floor, it could have been the door of another apartment . . . or it could have been Lander.

  If he does come down here, what will he be walking into? Is Micah threatening me? Is “just around the block” a euphemism for “I’m going to blow your brains out”?

  If that’s the case and Lander comes down, he’ll be in danger too.

  “Yeah,” I say, with a decisive nod. “I can go for a drive. Shall we go now?”

  Micah offers me his arm and I quickly link mine through his and allow him to lead me out. He’s walking at a decent pace but I subtly push him to move a little faster. “It’s chilly,” I explain when Micah gives me a funny look. He laughs and ushers me into the limo, and in an instant we’re off . . . off to God knows where.

  “So,” he says after a few seconds of silence, “how’s your houseguest? Is Mr. Lander Gable going to be worried about you?”

  I feel my cheeks color as I determinedly stare out the window.

  Micah laughs. “It’s all right, Sweet. There’s lots of ways to heat up a room when the temperature dips. I’m sure Lander’s better than any space heater. Still, you should be careful.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The Gables . . . they’re a complicated lot, and as you know, they’re not known for treating their women well.”

  “You’re talking about Travis,” I point out, and then after a moment’s thought add, “and their father, Edmund.”

  “Right, so what makes you think Lander is so different from the man who raised him? Or the man who has run beside him all this time? Is he some kind of fucking anomaly?”

  “He could be.”

  “Yeah, he could be. Statistically speaking, what do you think the odds are?”

  “I thought you said I could trust the Gables.” It’s hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “No, what I said is that they didn’t shoot Nick Foley. There are a lot of untrustworthy people in the world who aren’t murderers. I’ve been doing business with the Gables for years now. Years! I know damn well they aren’t capable of bloodshed. Both my instincts and my information are too solid in this area for me to have misjudged them in that regard. But do I still trust them as businessmen? That I’m not so sure about. Like I said, they’re a complicated lot.”

  “So, when you say you’ve been doing business with them,” I say, trying to sound casual, “do you mean that you’ve been banking with HGVB?”

  “For my legitimate business assets, that’s all. But still, these men are my bankers, they handle my money and a lot of my investments. I’ve referred friends to them.”

  “You mean like Javier.” Outside I spot Mary digging through the garbage in hopes of finding something she can use.

  “I spoke to Javier and Travis,” Micah replies. “Neither one of them will admit to meeting at Travis’s place with Edmund. That’s not good, Sweet.”

  That’s enough to bring my eyes to Micah. “Why would they deny it?” I ask as innocently as possible. “I mean, I saw them there and it didn’t seem like a big deal so . . . Wait . . . did you tell Travis you spoke with me? Micah, if I had known that was supposed to be a secret I wouldn’t have even brought it up! It was really just a side note, what I was trying to tell you about was how Travis treats Jessica. But if this meeting was a secret for whatever reason, and Travis thinks I let the cat out of the bag . . . Micah, he’ll fire me in a heartbeat! He’ll probably have me blackballed! I—”

  Micah silences me with a pat on the knee. “I didn’t tell anyone I spoke to you about this.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I say, breathing a real sigh of relief.

  “If I told him that, I’d have to tell them how I know you,” Micah continues. “And once Travis knows that you’ve lied to him about your name, your work experience, your whole history, well, that would be a problem. And if he found out who your mother was . . .” Micah finishes his sentence with a low whistle.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly aware of how the air in the limo feels thin, as if I’d need to breathe deeper and faster just to fill my lungs. “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, no, not at all!” Micah says, as if shocked by the suggestion. “You know you were wrong about the Gables. You’ve changed your ways, that counts for a lot.”

  “What else do I need to do?”

  “First of all, you don’t need to do anything. We always have choices. There are smart choices and there are stupid choices, but they’re still choices. For instance, I’m going to need some information about your employer and your six-foot bed heater. You could help me with that by keeping your eyes open, keeping track of their appointments and meetings and letting me know ASAP if you ever see Javier in their presence again. That would be the smart choice.”

  “And the stupid choice would be to refuse,” I say, finishing the thought for him.

  “See? You figured it out right away. You’re a smart-choice kinda girl, aren’t you,
Sweet?”

  I turn back to the streets of Harlem. We seem to be driving around aimlessly. Travis has asked me to spy on Lander, which I’m pretending to do. I am spying on Travis and sharing what I learn with Lander. Now Micah wants me to spy on all the Gable men for him. This will make me more than a double agent.

  What this will make me is crazy. Literally insane. I’m going to have to have more personalities than Sybil to pull this off.

  And yet to refuse . . .

  I take a deep breath and then blow it out through pursed lips before turning back to my companion. “I don’t know what I’m looking for,” I point out. “What do you think Javier and Travis are up to?”

  “Javier is . . . He’s interested in pursuing a career as a pharmacist.”

  I can’t help but smile. Micah is just too much.

  “I’ve always taken an interest in the pharmaceutical industry,” Micah continues. “I’ve made investments in it and I’ve even considered opening up a pharmacy of my own. So with that in mind, I’ve told Javier that I will support his . . . his education and invest in his pharmaceutical training if he agrees to eventually help me toward my own goals.”

  “Your goals of opening a pharmacy,” I say, for clarification.

  “Exactly!”

  I shake my head, still confused. “And you now think he’s trying to . . . open a pharmacy with the Gables?”

  “Hardly.” Micah laughs and takes two bottles of water out of the minifridge, tossing one to me. “The Gables are bankers. Nothing more, nothing less. But if Javier is doing business with them that he doesn’t want me to know about, that means he has funds that he doesn’t want me to know about too. And that makes me wonder if Javier is being financed by someone else who is also interested in opening a pharmacy, right in the neighborhood where I like to conduct my business. You see my dilemma, don’t you?”

  “I see it,” I say. “You’re Duane Reade and you don’t want CVS taking over your market share,” I say, warming to the metaphor. “Does Travis know Javier’s an aspiring pharmacist?” I put a special emphasis on the last word.

  “Travis,” Micah says between sips of Evian, “knows everything.”

  This is turning into a productive morning after all.

  chapter ten

  * * *

  When the limo finally turns back onto my street, Lander is already out front of the building. Even from two city blocks away I can see the anger radiating from him. His posture and his walk remind me of a street fighter, not a corporate executive.

  “You want me to talk to him?” Micah asks as we approach.

  “No, no,” I say quickly. “I got this.”

  “Don’t forget who this man is.” Micah taps his finger against his chin as if trying to dislodge words from his jaw. “He’s a Gable. Perhaps more importantly, he’s a fucking investment banker. These guys play with money that no one ever sees. They make investments on islands that no one ever goes to. Theirs is a world where nothing is as it seems.”

  “So? I would think that would work well for you.”

  “Oh, it does. But people who are trained to hide and disguise investments usually apply the same principles to themselves. I don’t care how romantic the guy is, he’s not looking for a wife, Sweet. He’s looking for a good time . . . and he may be looking for something else. Something less obvious.”

  “Like?”

  Micah shrugs. “There are many ways to use a woman,” he says as the limo slows to a stop in front of my building. “Your mother certainly found out a thing or two about that.”

  The comment stings and I have to bite back a retort. Fortunately I’m now home, so I won’t have to sit here and continue to listen to Micah use my mother as a cautionary tale.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say as casually as possible, and get out before he can add more.

  The limo rolls away quickly as Lander strides toward me. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he explodes, grabbing me by both arms.

  “It was only Micah.”

  “Only Micah,” he repeats. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him this angry. “Only the Russian mafia.”

  “We knew he might be watching me. We knew that your coming here was a risk,” I snap. “I asked you to stay away. You didn’t.”

  “Because he’s dangerous, Adoncia. He could have hurt you.”

  Or he could have hurt you! I want to scream. Why is my safety the only thing important here? What would become of me if something happened to you?

  But aloud I take a different tack, pulling myself away from him, crossing my arms protectively across my chest. “You could have blown everything!” I yell. “If he tells Travis that you stayed over here, where I live, Travis will become even more convinced that my feelings for you have grown and that my loyalty lies with you, not him! My entire advantage, our entire advantage could be blown!”

  “Are you listening or are you being purposely obtuse? Micah is dangerous. We agreed that you should only meet him in public places. But you don’t have as much control when you stay here alone, away from me or anyone else who might be willing to talk to the cops. You simply cannot be here by yourself.”

  “There are risks that we’re going to have to take!”

  “Not this risk.”

  “Every risk!” The wind whips through the streets. Empty soda cans and bits of garbage roll down the street like tumbleweeds in the desert. “I will take every risk that is necessary to beat them! Until I can make the people who destroyed my mother pay, I will stay on the front lines and I will fight! And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t fight to live. I fight to win!”

  But even as the words leave my mouth I realize they’re not true anymore. I will take every risk I need to take with my own life. That’s never been a big problem for me. But I’m not willing to risk Lander’s life.

  Lander is making me a weaker soldier. How can I be okay with that?

  “And what is it you expect me to do?” His voice is steady, there’s no indication that he’s ready to back down. “Leave you wounded on the field?”

  “I’m not wounded.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Are you here to heal me, Lander? Do you think you can piece me back together?”

  “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe I’m trying to keep you from tearing yourself apart.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but my voice gets caught in my throat. I feel a stinging in my eyes as I look away from him, down at the windswept streets.

  “Why?” I ask softly. “Why do you care?”

  “Because that’s what people do.” The sharp edges of anger shape his voice. “People care about other people. Life isn’t supposed to be about revenge. It’s supposed to be about being human.”

  “Ah,” I say, my eyes still on the street. “You care because you’re human.”

  “Adoncia . . .” But he stops. Whether he’s stopping himself from saying something or he just doesn’t know what else to say is anyone’s guess. He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, as if calming himself. “You can’t take these kinds of risks,” he says quietly. “We’re a team. We can’t take joyrides with our opponents without consulting one another first.”

  “Of course, Lander,” I hear myself saying. “We’ll work as a team.”

  There’s a silence, one filled with unspoken thoughts and unexpressed feelings . . . but I don’t know if the emotion Lander is repressing has anything to do with love. It’s entirely possible that what he’s hiding is ambivalence.

  “Spend the day with me,” he says. “I’m going to be working on the encryption. We’ll order in Chinese—”

  “I have errands to do for Jessica today,” I interrupt. “And then I’m going to meet her back at her place at four so we can go over what I’ve accomplished. If I’m lucky I’ll have the opportunity to move the stepladder.”

  “I could help you with that.”

  “What?” I say, a little too sharply. “You don’t think I can ha
ndle Jessica by myself?”

  “Adoncia,” Lander says, the exasperation thick in his voice.

  “No, it’s fine. I don’t mean to be touchy,” I say, waving away my words. “As far as I know the whole family will be there when I arrive, so the stepladder may have to wait. Still, if you come up with a plan for that, let me know.” I glance up at the front door of my building. “I need to shower and get going. Feel free to hang out while you wait for your driver.”

  He nods and together we walk back inside. The dreariness of the building feels fitting now.

  “One moment,” I say, and unlock my mailbox. “I just need to—” I cut myself off with a sigh. The box is jammed, not an uncommon event. I try to pry it open with my fingernails but only end up breaking one of my nails down low. “Damn it!” I yell, jumping back and putting my finger in my mouth.

  “Let me see.” Lander quickly steps forward and pulls my finger from my lips. There’s only a small, thin line of blood but it stings like crazy.

  “Do you have Band-Aids?” he asks.

  “In the medicine cabinet.”

  I lead him up the stairs, my finger now firmly back in my mouth. And as my blood touches my tongue I wonder, When did I lose my tolerance for pain?

  chapter eleven

  * * *

  I did everything I had been assigned to do. I went to the flower shop and checked to make sure that the arrangements were being done to Jessica’s specifications. I went to the venue and checked in with the caterer and Robyn, the event manager, confirming that the seating arrangement and menu were set and ready to go. The linens are the ones that Jessica asked for. The photographer knows which kinds of pictures are wanted and which aren’t.