19. Chapter 19

nineteen

Lucas

T he feel of sunlight against my eyelids was unfamiliar, but I wasn’t worried. Even if my brain was having a little trouble catching up and figuring out why I felt different, the rest of my body wasn’t alarmed. I opened my eyes and understood why life still felt good, even if I wasn’t sleeping in my own bed.

I was in Athena’s house, naked in her bedroom. I rubbed my jaw, shifting it back and forth as I stretched the muscles. I stuck out my tongue, twisting and rolling that as well, seeing if it still worked after last night. I wasn’t used to giving it that much of a workout, but it was worth it to have the memory of Athena splayed out before me and at my mercy embedded in the back of my eyes.

Athena was on our side, was a good person, and, most importantly, was wholly mine. I felt confident that if I played my cards right, she wouldn’t be leaving me any time soon .

A shiver ran up my spine at that feeling of possession. I didn’t even feel any sense of dread over her possessing me just as completely right back.

The only thing wrong this morning was that Athena wasn’t still lying with me. I remember spooning behind her as we fell asleep, her curves fitting perfectly against me, my hand resting on her breast like the two parts were made for each other, but her warm body wasn’t pressed against me anymore.

I sat up and stretched, rolling my neck this time. “Come back to bed, Athena!” I called out, finally standing up. Where did my boxers go? “I know you’d prefer if you could walk today, but I’m not done having my way with you yet.”

I rolled my neck again, stretched my stiff fingers, as I waited for her reply. When she didn’t answer after a minute I tried again, strolling naked down the stairs to look for her. “Don’t make me take out the handcuffs, Athena. You’ve been a good girl so far, but don’t think there won’t be consequences if you don’t—”

My eyes landed on a note on the kitchen counter.

I’ll be back soon. Athena.

I flipped the note over, confused. Was that all there was? My phone dinged from wherever I left my pants in the living room and I went to retrieve it, still holding the note. Did she run out for coffee or something? She really shouldn’t have left the house by herself and, spotting the bulletproof vest I gave her a couple days ago, wholly unprotected. I felt a pit in my stomach, but I finally found my pants so I fished the phone out of the pocket, unlocking it to check my notifications.

There were a few emails that I would need to take a closer look at. A couple missed calls from Mark Rosenberg, but he and his voicemails could wait.

Finding Athena was more important.

I suddenly realized that I didn’t even have her phone number to call and see if she was alright. I felt that I knew her—deeply, utterly—but I hadn’t even known her long enough to ask for her phone number. I had the resources to figure that out quickly enough, but I figured I’d give her a couple minutes before I started panicking. She was smart, self-sufficient; she knew better than to put herself in more danger. She was probably just getting some fresh air. She’d be right back.

I wandered over to her whiteboard displays, admiring all the research she compiled and the effort it took. Even if I had an assistant I doubted I'd have anywhere close to this level of organization anywhere in my life. That took some serious dedication.

I looked over the timeline displayed on the center board, noting the events color-coordinated based on relevance. I shook my head in amazement as I read from top to bottom, amazed at all she uncovered from half-assed notes, doctor files, and thinly veiled threats. She was amazing.

I was still glorying in her intelligence when I read the final entry: a second interview with Carlo and Angelo Morelli at 9:30 am today. On a Saturday? Why ?

That sinking feeling returned as I checked the time on my phone again. It was five after nine. Athena wouldn’t really go back to their offices without telling me, would she?

I paused, standing stock still. Because she would. She really would.

I swore, pulling on my pants and looking around desperately for my shirt. Screw finding the boxers.

My phone rang again. I rolled my eyes when I saw Mark’s name, but figured it was probably easiest to answer. He could be a persistent ass when he wanted to be.

“What? I’m in the middle of—”

“You’re in the middle of a high-profile investigation that’s going to shit and you don’t answer your phone? What the hell were you doing all night long?”

My hackles were raised. Who did he think he was to be lecturing me?

“Who I was with isn’t important.”

“Who?” he repeats. I could practically hear his eyebrows raising. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Damn right it doesn’t.”

“Listen, you need to get to Athena Kane’s house and convince her to come in right away.”

I shook my head. “No, she’s clean, I promise. I was wrong,” I admitted, but the truth needed to come out. “There’s nothing suspicious about her.”

He paused. I could hear the wheels in his head turning. Shit. “Okaaay. But she needs to come in for a real protection unit. Maybe even sending her to that place with Witness C and Witness W. ”

I forced air in my lungs and back out again. I needed more information before I fell straight into a panic. “What happened?”

“Check your goddamn email, Luke.”

He kept talking to me, but it was a dull background noise as I took the phone away from my ear, opening up the email app on my home screen. The first couple unread messages were nonsense that wasn’t urgent at all, but then I saw what Mark was talking about.

More surveillance footage was back.

I clicked on the email from Leo Lombardi’s tail first, flicking through the stills sent to me.

There were a bunch of Lombardi in his shitty rust bucket of a car, but it wasn’t the vehicle that was important. It took me a moment to recognize the background, but his car was clearly sitting in this very neighborhood. I took a few steps to the front window, flicking open the curtains. I could see the house he’d been parked in front of in the photos from where I stood and looked at the timestamp. It was yesterday evening, not long before I arrived to arrest her. Shit. He knew where she lived. How long had he known? Did my arrival scare him away? How did Lombardi find her?

Breaking the rules to spend the night with Athena probably saved her life.

I backed out of that email and opened the other, the one from the analyst monitoring the footage from the surveillance van sitting in front of the Morelli office. I read the quick note typed into the body of the email before opening the attachment.

Same woman as last time I think. Whoever she is, I feel bad for her.

I steadied my hand before pressing play.

Lombardi was clearly visible through the glass window at the front of the office, talking with Angelo Morelli. They both looked angry. Lombardi handed a file folder to Angelo. Angelo looked hard at it, and even from a distance I could see the anger morph into pure, terrible fury. Whatever Lombardi showed him caused an intense rage. We weren’t set up to capture quality audio, but I still flinched from the volume of the scream Angelo let out.

Carlo Morelli came into frame from somewhere in the back office at his brother’s bellow. He slowly made his way to the front of the frame, back facing the window as Angelo shoved the file into his hands.

I could see Carlo’s back stiffen as he absorbed whatever the new information was. The hand holding the folder dropped to his side as he turned to Lombardi. Now I could see his face, lips clear as day as they formed the words Are you sure?

But that wasn’t the most damning part of the video.

When his arm dropped, I could see a vague outline of what so affected the Morellis. The folder had two photos side by side in a comparison. I paused the video, not quite able to make out the features from this distance, but one photo was a woman with curly blonde hair, and the other was the same woman with straight brunette hair.

I checked the timestamp out of reflex. This video was from late afternoon yesterday, not long before Lombardi parked on Athena’s street, staking out her home. Leo Lombardi got Athena’s address since it would have been in the CV she left with Morelli & Morelli, Attorneys at Law.

Leo and the rest of the Morellis knew exactly who she was and that she’d been playing them. He was sent here last night to murder her, and the only reason he didn’t make his move after she let down her guard and went to sleep for the night was because I showed up and put a damper on his plans.

I pressed play on the video. Angelo was still raging, throwing staplers and other office supplies from the main reception desk. Even with the shitty audio equipment I could hear his screams of fury as he destroyed the office. Carlo kept spitting out angry words. He drew a single finger across his neck and among the jumble of words I could see his mouth shape the words “dead” and “now” before he shoved the file folder into Leo Lombardi’s chest, knocking him back a few feet.

Fuck.

They knew who she was, and she was getting ready to walk right into their headquarters.

I checked my watch and looked around desperately for my shirt. Only five minutes had passed. Athena’s meeting didn’t start for another twenty. As long as she didn’t show up too early I could make it.

I had to make it. I couldn’t lose her, too.