153
“I assure you that I have every intention of honoring the contract. In fact. I’ll double the terms. Just handle it,” Clinton told him.
“What is going on? Is Maria in danger?” Brett demanded.
“Yes,” I told him. “She is.”
“Jesus Christ. This has to do with the weird note she received. Right?”
The three of us looked at each other, then back to Brett. “What weird note?” I growled.
“She barely mentioned it. She just said it was a warning. I didn’t think much of it because in this business, there are stalkers and other freaks.”
Clinton gave me a look. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to me.
You don’t know who you’re sleeping with. They are murderers.
“I found it in her dressing room. There was also a note left in red lipstick on her mirror,” he continued.
“Jesus. That’s creepy,” Brett said.
The man had no idea.
Exhaling, I rubbed my jaw. “We’ll take care of it.”
“What do I tell people?” Brett whined.
Clinton glanced from one of us to the other. “That your star is taking a desperately needed respite to become reacquainted with some friends from her past.”
The look on Clinton’s face forced both Weston and I to tense. “What did the one on the mirror say?”
“Time to die.”
--
Maria
Death.
It was inevitable that the end would come. Sometimes it loomed over people, those who were sick or had been told they didn’t have long to live. Sometimes it was a welcome relief for someone fighting pain or misery. But for many, death was a devastating ghost to be feared, some believing they had the grim reaper following them throughout life.
My situation was entirely different. I felt as if I’d been born again, leaving behind a life that I wasn’t certain I missed. Or maybe I did. There was only one way of finding out the truth. I couldn’t rely on my memory to provide what I craved desperately.
The truth.
It meant more to me than anything.
Ava .
I was certain that was my name, not Maria. The visions had become more frequent, one assaulting my mind after the other. Mostly random. All disturbing. I was thankful I’d taken a cab from the resort to the airport, the images disruptive. The puzzle pieces were trying to come together. Sadly, it was like trying to drive a square peg into a round hole. It was more frustrating than ever.
I’d also received two texts since leaving Chicago.
One was from Weston. He’d been the one designated to find out what had happened to me. The simple question shouldn’t have meant anything, but I felt an angst unlike anything I’d felt before.
At least that I could remember.
Are you okay?
Then a second one.
We need to talk. Please, baby.
I’d been tempted to text him back. In fact, I’d almost done so three times. He’d known I’d read it, which meant he also knew I was ignoring him on purpose. We both carried iPhones. I couldn’t talk to any of them until I found out everything I could. Even then, I wasn’t entirely certain what I was going to say. The ache continued, my stomach in knots. Nothing seemed real any longer, yet I felt danger. I felt sadness. Most of all I felt loneliness.
I missed them. All three of them.
During the flight, I’d shove aside the unwanted memories, replacing them with images of their faces and the times we’d shared. Laughter. Passion. What it had made me realize was that I’d felt it before. With all three of them. I was certain of it. The chemistry was too intense. Even now, electricity coursed through every vein and muscle.
The third text was… terrifying.
We’re coming…
As in more than one person.
I fingered my phone even now, anxiety creating a breathless feeling. Were they watching me, us? What kind of sick game were they playing?
Perhaps I’d been impetuous taking the first flight out of Chicago. At least it had been nonstop, but four hours had been too long to sit and think about everything I’d read. Even though I’d tried to shove aside the fleeting memories, they’d come pouring in. I wasn’t just thinking they were the reason that I’d been targeted not once but twice. I was certain of it.
In finding out from my useless manager that Emerald had instigated the trip to Chicago, I wasn’t entirely certain who I could trust any longer. It certainly wasn’t my memory. The worst feeling of all was questioning whether or not I trust the men I’d fallen in love with.
I was sick inside, my heart aching. I’d wanted to run to their arms for safety, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t get away from the thought that one or all three had killed someone. It was crazy. Muddled. Even now, I could barely breathe.
I was home in a place I wasn’t certain I even knew. There were no pictures, no vivid images of celebrations or holidays. I’d never really thought about it before now.
The light inside the expansive room had cast a beautiful glow on the artistic pieces my mother had selected. I loved this house, although I knew they were considering selling and moving elsewhere. The location I’d yet to be told. With dad retiring, maybe they wanted a fresh start. I’d miss the gorgeous pool that I never spent any time in, the bright sun that San Diego always seemed to have, and the ocean. That was laughable. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone to the beach in any state.
I was always working.
That’s what I loved.
Then the three men had come along, and I’d realized how much of life I’d been missing.
I heard my mother return to the room, and when I pulled away from the window, I was certain what I’d find in her hands. Refreshments. She’d gone to find my father after getting over her initial shock of seeing me standing on her doorstep. I’d been here almost twenty minutes, and he hadn’t shown his face.
They had to know why I was here, or at least suspect.
“I thought you’d like some lemonade,” she said as she proceeded to pour a large glass from a stunning pitcher that seemed more like an art piece.
“What I want is the truth.”
She kept a smile plastered on her face, acting as if this was a typical visit. I’d planned a tight trip and would need to leave within thirty minutes to make my flight. I would return to Chicago where the storytelling would continue. But in doing so, I’d need to control my heart. I couldn’t allow Clinton, Weston, and Christian to weasel their way back into my system. If I did, I’d never learn the details.
“Sit down, honey.”
I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her alone. After easing onto the chair, she pushed one of the glasses across the table. I noticed her hand was shaking.
“Who am I, Mother?”
“What do you mean? You’re our daughter. You’re a beautiful girl. You’re famous.”
I heard my father’s footsteps and took a chance. “Is my name Ava ?”
My father stopped in the doorway, remaining silent. I lifted my head, almost taken aback by his haggard appearance. I hadn’t seen them in almost a full year. In that time, he’d aged significantly, although he would still be considered a virile man by anyone’s standards. He’d kept himself in shape, working out with a vengeance. If it was true and he was an assassin, then of course he’d need to be big and strong.
I was ready to burst into laughter, chastising myself for being ridiculous, except the signs had been there. The strange phone calls. The late-night flights out of the blue. The less than up front answers to questions when I’d bothered to ask. The security. The threats, although I’d never been privy to one. The money I knew they had in several bank accounts.
I’d chosen to ignore every sign, pretending my father was a regular guy.
In his hand was an oversized envelope. As he walked closer, my mother poured him a glass of lemonade. His usually hard expression softened as he sat down.
“Yes.”
The simple word was like a sledgehammer. “Go on.”
“Your name is Ava Summers. You are our biological daughter. Our only child.”
His voice was so quiet, I had to strain to hear him. “Okay. The accident. Was it the truth?”
“Yes,” my mother said quickly. “We didn’t lie to you. You were severely injured, but not in a swimming accident.”
“You didn’t lie to me? You mean other than about my name, my heritage, what happened, and why I have memory loss?” I heard the anger in my voice. Was it misguided? At this point, there was no way of knowing.
“Do not be angry with your mother! I forbid her to tell you. We were trying to protect you.” He was angrier than I’d seen him in years, but I also sensed fear. The man had been backed into a corner.
“By lying to me? Someone is determined I learn the truth one way or the other. I’d rather hear it from both of you. Please. Do you know what it’s like to go through life realizing a huge part of you is missing? Or to have nightmares every time I close my eyes?”
“We didn’t want that for you. We made certain the best doctors in the world looked at you.” My father sighed. “We need to tell her the truth, Connie.”
The two of them looked at each other lovingly. I knew how much they adored each other. It had been easy to see through the years.
“You weren’t supposed to be born,” my mother said quietly. “The doctor told us that we couldn’t have children. In a way, it was a relief given what your father did. I loved him and still do with all my heart. He tried to get me to fall in love with another boy, but we were drawn to each other from the beginning.”
Just like I felt around the three men. It was as if I’d always belonged to them.
“When I found out I was pregnant, I was certain your father was going to be furious, but I’d never seen him so happy.” She laughed as if remembering the exact moment when she’d told him.
“Because of your job,” I said, hating the bitter sound in my voice.
“Yes. Having anyone in my life is dangerous, Ava . I warned your mother that our lives would never be easy or safe. However, we wanted to have you more than anything. You were our miracle, our special little girl.”
“Then why no pictures? Was there really a fire as you told me, or was that just another lie?”
A single tear slipped past my mother’s face. “No. We put them away. We were afraid you’d remember what happened the night of the accident.”
“Do you even know?”
They shared another silent communication. “Only part of what happened that night. We were left to pick up the pieces.”
Part of what happened. “So, you’re an assassin, Dad.”
He seemed shocked that I’d figured it out. “I’ve had a job to do that I’m very good at. However, I never wanted to put either you or your mother in harm’s way.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
“How did you find out?” my mother asked.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
