Secrets 02 - Kill Me Again, page 23
He couldn't be a killer.
And even if he had been once, he wasn't anymore.
Olivia pushed past him, stomping through the office into the bedroom, where, pausing, she bent over the bed. "I'm taking enough to cover what we've spent on this asinine wild-goose chase. I should take it all," she said, picking up a stack of bills. "It's my life it paid to have snuffed out."
"Don't take any of it."
She shot him a hate-filled look.
"I'll have to give it back to have any hope of calling off the hit...once I figure out where it came from, that is."
"Good luck with that." She threw the money she'd picked up onto the bed, turned and strode past him to the front door. "Come on, Freddy! Goodbye, Adam."
Freddy got up and loped to her side, then stood there looking miserable at the thought of leaving again when they'd only just arrived.
"Olivia, dammit, whatever I was, it's not what I am now. Whatever I intended to do--" He reached her, gripped her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "I'm not going to hurt you. I could never hurt you, Liv."
She stared through her burning tears into his beautiful eyes and wondered how a lying thug could seem so damn sincere. "You've known for a while now, haven't you, Adam?"
He lowered his thick lashes. Despite everything, her belly knotted with need. And then he gave a jerky nod. "I've suspected, yes. And I tried to tell you that."
"You did tell me. I just didn't want to believe you."
"I didn't, either. I couldn't believe it. I thought--I thought there must be some other explanation."
She sniffled, blinking back a fresh rush of tears. "How can I believe you now? How can I know for sure that this entire amnesia thing was anything but an act, some elaborate trap I was stupid enough to walk right into?"
He shook his head slowly. "What would be the point? If I was going to kill you, why wait? Why not just sneak up on you and do it?"
"I don't know. And I can't afford to stick around long enough to find out. Goodbye, Adam."
She pulled free, but he pulled back. He jerked her hard against him, bent his head and kissed her mouth. Tears rolled so thickly that she tasted them on her lips, and on his, as well. He fed from her, cupped her cheeks, and finally, finally, lifted his head slowly, staring through unfocused eyes into hers. "There's something between us, Olivia. You were right about that."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, don't they, Adam? I can't believe you'd say that now, just to keep me here."
"That's not what this is, and you know it."
"I don't think I know anything anymore." She pulled free of him, half-blinded now by the flood of her tears, and felt for the knob. "I'm taking the Lincoln." She held out her hand for the keys, and after one look at her adamant expression, he handed them over. "Freddy, come!" she commanded, and her dog loped along beside her as she ran for the elevator. No keycard necessary to go down, luckily. She hit the button, and the doors opened instantly. She stepped inside, and Freddy sat down beside her, patient and loyal to a fault. She punched another button and waited for the doors to slide closed, slowly shutting out the blurred image of Adam's face, the regret and the unspoken plea in his eyes, as he stood there in the doorway.
Adam didn't chase after her, and he didn't beg her to stay. He just stood there and watched her go. What could he do, after all? What could he say? He couldn't even deny that her conclusions were correct. It was all falling into place in his mind, clicking in like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He'd been hired to kill Sarah Quinlan. He'd been provided with mail that had been intercepted from her for years, apparently, though by whom, he didn't know. Probably Skinner, no matter what the man had said. He'd been paid half his fee up front. He'd studied the letters she had written to Aaron Westhaven with the intent of posing as the man in order to get close to her. He knew the plan. There was no denying it. He'd apparently intended to do it--to take money for murdering an innocent woman.
He turned and walked back into his apartment, hating himself with every breath he drew. He wondered what other foul secrets his past life was waiting to reveal. And systematically, he began searching every nook and cranny of the place. He found a locked drawer full of phony driver's licenses and passports. Every one of them bore his face, or some version of it, above an alias. In some he was heavier. In some he wore eyeglasses. In some he sported a beard or sideburns, or a moustache or goatee, or some combination thereof. In some his hair was long; in others his head was shaved. The names had nothing in common. They didn't rhyme or begin with the same letter. Adam was closer to Aaron than to any of the others, but that was clearly only coincidental.
He slammed the drawer closed to keep himself from obsessively examining the stamps on the various passports to see where he'd been. No time. He had to figure out who'd hired him and try to call off the hit. If it wasn't already too late. Someone had tried to kill him, too, after all. And a second man had been dispatched to Olivia's right after that. He no longer had any doubt what that man had been intending to do that night.
But who had hired him? And how were things connected? If he'd been hired to murder Olivia, why would the man who hired him then have decided to kill him? To keep him from being able to tell anyone who'd paid him, maybe? Hell, it made as much sense as anything else. If only he could remember now who his employer had been.
He went through his bedroom, through his closets and drawers. But he didn't find a hell of a lot that would tell him anything about who he was. Who he'd been. No journals or diaries. No photo albums. No notes.
He had no idea what the hell to do next. The memories were returning, but not fast enough, and not in any logical order.
And then he noticed that his phone machine was blinking.
He hit the button, then grabbed paper and a pen so he could write down anything that seemed important or might provide a clue.
There was only one message, but it was a stunner.
"Adam, it's Bruce. I've been in touch with the authorities in Shadow Falls, so I know what happened. You're probably very confused right now, but don't believe anything until you've spoken to me. I'm the only person in the world who knows as much about you as you know about yourself. I'm the only one who can answer the questions you have right now. You've got to come in, Adam. You've got to come in. Call me. If I tell you the number, you'll never know it's for real, but you'll be able to figure it out. I'm counting on that. Don't do another damn thing until you call me."
Olivia couldn't believe she'd been such a fool. She'd known it was a mistake to trust a man she didn't know anything about. She'd spent the past sixteen years not trusting anyone with the truth about herself. And then she'd broken her own most important rule, the one she'd lived by, and given her secrets away to a killer.
He wasn't Aaron Westhaven. Aaron Westhaven had never even received her letters. God, when she thought back on the things she'd written...The way she'd talked about his work and how much it had meant to her, the way she had connected with it. And she had connected with it. Westhaven's interpretation of human nature rang truer than ever to her now. He knew love was false and fickle and downright self-destructive. Every time Harvey let himself fall, he wound up paying a terrible price for it. And she knew that, dammit. She knew that was how it was in real life, because it had been exactly that way for her. She'd loved, or thought she had, and she'd nearly died because of it. She'd paid with her own identity, her own name, in exchange for her freedom. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, dammit, and there was no reason why she should have had to learn it all over again.
Except for her own stupidity.
She'd let herself fall, and fall hard.
And the results were just the same the second time.
She got out of the elevator and strode through the lobby, her dog keeping pace at her side. Poor Freddy, looking up at her as if to ask what was wrong. She must be vibrating with pent-up frustration, humiliation and hurt.
Mostly hurt.
She'd actually let herself believe the man might feel something for her, too. What an idiot.
She nodded to the doorman but didn't answer any of his friendly questions as she passed. No, everything wasn't okay, but that wasn't any of his business. No, there was nothing he could do to help her. There wasn't anything anyone could do. She just needed to go home.
God, she wanted to go home.
She wondered if she would be able to stay in Shadow Falls, or if the new life she had built for herself would be lost to her forever, just like the old one had been. Would she have to start again somewhere else? A new name, a new career, another new life? Where was she going to find another conveniently dead woman, someone with no family or friends to ask questions, whose identity she could steal?
She got to the car and opened the back, though her hands were trembling. Thankfully, Freddy obeyed her command to get inside, even though he must be so sick of cars by now that he could hardly bear it.
"I promise, I won't drive you anywhere again for a week, boy," she told him. Then she leaned in and stroked his face. "I love you, Freddy."
He licked her cheek. And she let the tears flow into his fur as she buried her face against his neck. "Never again. Never again, boy. It's just me and you for good. I mean it."
She closed the hatch and moved around to get behind the wheel, started up the engine, fastened her seat belt, then laid her head on the steering wheel and cried as if her heart were broken.
In fact, she thought it was.
Come in, the message had said. You have to come in. How the hell was he supposed to come in when he didn't know where in was? Or who the hell Bruce was?
And then something occurred to him, and he started digging though desk drawers, moving from one room to the next. He already knew he didn't have a phone book or appointment book anywhere. But he did find a drawer full of cell phones in the weapons room. All of them untraceable, he bet.
He flipped one open, and searched the directory. And just as he'd hoped, he found a listing for Bruce. Just that, nothing more.
Saying a small, quick prayer, he put the call through.
A man answered on ring number three. "Yes?"
"I'm, uh...calling for Bruce."
"Adam? Adam, is that you?"
"Yes."
"Thank freaking God. You have no idea how worried I've been. Where are you?"
"I... Look, I don't know if I'm comfortable telling you that."
The other man was quiet for a moment. "You still don't know who you are, do you?"
"I have...some idea."
"I doubt that. What phone are you calling from?"
"A cell. I seemed to have a supply of them around."
"Of course you do. You need them. It's safe to assume it's secure. So listen, and listen carefully. I don't have time to go into a lot of detail here. But I can tell you what you need to know most, and that's this. You work for the FBI, Adam. Same as I do. I'm your boss."
He frowned. "The FB--"
"You're an undercover operative. You pose as a hit man, get hired, then fake the job and relocate the supposedly dead victim someplace where they can start a new life. You're the best there is."
He blinked as the meaning of the man's words sank in. "Then I wasn't going to kill Olivia Dupree?"
"No! Hell no. You were going to fake her death and get her safely relocated."
"Who wanted her dead? Who hired me?"
"Part of the job was trying to find out. It was all done through third parties. You've been playing along, hoping to figure out who was the money behind the job. But getting her safe in the meantime was the main goal."
Adam nodded. "And something went wrong?"
"Yeah, something went wrong. Your cover was blown before you ever got to her. The bastard who hired you must have found out you were a Fed and sent someone to take you out before you could get to Olivia and tell her that she was in danger. The shooter was supposed to take her out once you were out of the way."
"And that someone is still after me?" Adam said. "And Olivia?"
"Exactly."
Adam nodded, but his eyes shifted toward the door. "I have to go after her. I have to--"
"Not alone, not on your own. No more of that. You've nearly gotten the both of you killed trying to play it solo, my friend. You come in. Meet with me, and we'll make sure you're safe and pick her up, too. It'll be fine. Just come in."
"What if this asshole gets to her before we do?"
"Where is she now?" Bruce asked.
"She's on her way back to Shadow Falls."
"That's where I am. Been trying to steer the local yokels away from too much info. What's she driving?" Adam hesitated.
"I'll have some of our guys catch up with her, make sure she's safe until we can get all this cleared up. So what's she driving."
Adam lowered his eyes. "Black Lincoln."
"Okay. We'll intercept her. Where's she coming from?"
Adam blinked. "You don't know where I live?"
"Hell, you don't tell anyone where you live. You've got the landline jumping through so many hoops it's untraceable. God, I can't believe you've really forgotten everything."
So he didn't even tell his boss where he lived? That seemed off. As if maybe he didn't trust the man.
"Look, I don't know you, okay? I'm not telling you anything more until I'm sure. Let's meet. You need to show me some proof that what you're telling me is true, and I need to get this clear in my head, all right?"
"All right. All right. Let's meet. How fast can you get back here?"
Adam drew a breath and sighed. "I don't have a car."
"What, you get rid of the Porsche?"
"Porsche?" And as soon as he said it, he spotted the key ring, complete with the rearing stallion logo, hanging near the door. "Maybe I do have a car."
"So how soon can you be here?"
"Nightfall," he said.
"Good. I'll see you then. Be careful, Adam, and don't talk to anyone else about any of this. No one. Understand?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."
"Call me when you get in, and I'll let you know where we can meet."
"All right. See you then."
"Make sure you come alone. I can't emphasize that enough, Adam. You can't say a word to anyone. Not even the mark."
"Yeah, all right."
"I mean it."
"I told you, I've got it."
"Good."
Olivia drove all day long, stopping only when Freddy's whining or the vehicle's gas gauge let her know there was no other option. By nightfall the Lincoln's high beams were spilling onto the fan-shaped windows of her garage door and shining onto the pristine vinyl siding of her home sweet home. She'd never been happier to see it.
She shut off the engine and sat there for a moment. God, she felt as if she were returning home from a war. As if she'd just spent months fighting for her life in a battle that had been as much mental as physical. Her brain had been bent and twisted by deceit, and fooled by her own desires. She'd seen what she wanted to see, rather than what really was. She'd been a fool. And it remained to be seen just what the cost of her foolishness would be.
Until then, though, she was home.
"Mrrrrph," said Fred.
"I know. I know, boy." She opened the door, removed the keys and dropped them into her pocket, silently thanking Tommy for the new ride, even while worrying about the Expedition she'd abandoned. It wasn't even her own. She was going to have to take it somewhere to have it cleaned and detailed--not to mention get the interior repaired where Freddy had clawed it up trying to get to her during the shootout. She shuddered to think what might have happened if her beloved dog had managed to escape the SUV that night.
Just add it to the list of things to worry about, she thought, as she went to free Freddy, who bounded out, butted her in the thigh with his head in a gesture of playful affection and then turned and ran for the front door. He was, she thought, even happier to be home than she was. When he reached the front door, he sat down, his tail swiping back and forth over the stoop as he waited impatiently to be let inside.
Sighing, she dug out her house keys, unlocked the door and let the dog in.
And then she let him do his thing. Whenever they'd been away, even for a few hours, Freddy performed the same routine upon returning. He went from room to room throughout the entire house, as if performing some kind of inspection. She never knew exactly what he was looking for, but he always looked. And when he finished, he would go to the patio doors off the kitchen and sit there until she let him outside, so he could complete the job by inspecting the fenced-in backyard.
She watched him wander into the bedroom as she sank onto the sofa, exhausted and wondering what she should do first. Calling Bryan seemed like a logical choice. And it would put off the inevitable--continuing to think about her broken heart. And about what she had done to her perfect, false little life.
Freddy emerged from the bedroom, wandered farther down the hall and went into the guest room.
Olivia picked up the phone and dialed Bryan's number.
He answered with, "You're home!"
Clearly he'd seen the caller ID. "I'm home."
"It's about damn time."
She smiled at the phone, even though her eyes were welling up a little. "Yeah, I'm sorry about taking off like that. I just--I had to."
"With him? Who is he really, Olivia?"
She lowered her head. "He's the guy who was hired to kill me."
"And how did you find that out?"
"First I got your message. Then--" She bit her lip there. If Adam really had changed, maybe he deserved a chance to start his life over again with a clean slate. Maybe he really wasn't the man he'd been before the bullet in his skull. If Bryan didn't already know his real name, then who was she to tell him?
God, listen to her. What was she, stupid? Was she actually still unsure? Hey, lady, your boyfriend's a hit man.
