Page 58 of Never Always
My stomach flips.Heading out in five,I reply. Then add,Thanks, man. I know it’s early there. I appreciate you running intel for me.He offered, or rather I suppose Clover offered.
Clover says you better not fudge this up, or she’s going to carve you up worse than the serial killer.And then.I’ll help her.
I ask if there’s been anything new on the Cape Cod Carver and set my phone on the counter to wait for his reply. Running my hands through my hair, I decide to put some product in, really give this a good, college try. Normal things like doing my hair haven’t been on my agenda as of late, so it takes a bit of fussing and cursing.
Mercer’s text pings in my pocket as I close my hotel room door and hit the elevator button to go down to the lobby.No new bodies for two days.I told Mercer everything I’d learned, so he’s on high alert there. He knows as well as I do what he just wrote actually means.
These fancy-dress shoes turn to lead. My suspicions are at a fever pitch.Call Brian at the FBI, again.I tap back on the ride down.
Already did. They’re on it. You’re there. You’re close to her. Don’t worry. Clover has eyes on her as we speak. She’s okay, doing a live video with her boss. Get there.
I give his message a thumbs up and jog through the lobby of the fancy-ass beach hotel. The warm, summer night hits me as the doors slide open and I find a side entrance to the hotel next door and wind my way to the lobby elevator. There’s a sign telling me that the opening celebration is on the roof. Merely being in an elevator makes me think of her. I shift from foot to foot, my hand tapping an uneven beat against my thigh. This should be planned, an autopilot type of situation, but my heart is on my fucking sleeve and I guess that means that I’m not allowed to be rational, or thoughtful.
There’s a podium right when I step off, and a young woman guarding it wearing a small black dress and nametag labeling her as Ashley. She says, “Welcome. Name, please.” Ashley taps her pen on the printed list in front of her, I’m most definitely not on it.
“Ashley, is it?” I ask, adjusting my bow tie. Her doe eyes watch the movement. “Here’s the thing. I’m not on that list.” I grab the podium in a possessive gesture. “I’m not eating or drinking. I merely came to watch the speeches. I traveled a long way, please don’t turn me away.” She licks her lips as she watches me talk, brown, heavily lined eyes entranced in my story. “What do you say? Do me this big favor?” Reaching into my pocket, I grab the hundred-dollar bill that I exchanged at the airport for an occasion such as this and grab her hand, making the transfer of funds look romantic. Hopefully.
“What’s your name, charmer?” Ashley says, sliding the bill into her tits, then grabbing her pen. “I think I can help you out.” Thank God.
“Ryan Seacrest.”
She quirks one brow. “Really? That’s the lie?”
“He’s a charismatic guy,” I admit, lifting a shoulder. I hit her with a smile and shaking her head, she writes down the name I gave her.
“Enjoy the speeches, Mr. Seacrest.”
I give her a sly wink, accept the sticker she gave, and try to blend into my atmosphere. Granted, it would be easier if I were among my brothers, I have lost so much weight that I am not the formidable presence I used to be. Like most SEALs, I can be whatever I have to be, and maybe that’s partly to blame for my downfalls. I excel at most things, so my success rate was bound to flat-line at some point, right? This last year was my flat-line and I’m ready for the steep climb.
Tennyson Kline is called to the stage mere minutes after I sneak my way in. She emerges from a group of people next to the stage that looks like the intellectual sort. Not that intellectuals have a look, but given the audience tonight, it’s a valid guess. Fire looks like a supermodel. She’s wearing the green dress she wore to Clover and Mercer’s party. The same dress I fell in love with her in. It hugs her curves and accentuates her small waist. Her hair is down, a slight wave and she has on makeup, but not so much that it covers the freckles. I blow out a harried, fucking relieved sigh at the sight of her.
She tugs on her ear as she looks down at the paper she just unfolded. “Thank you, everyone, for being here tonight. Thank you to the institute for inviting us here.” Her voice is clear and steady and watching her fills me with so much pride. She introduces herself and gives a brief description of the study she did and her findings. It’s literally the perfect amount of humor and tongue-in-cheek references to climate change.
Ending her speech, she asks for donations to continue aquatic research all over the world. The crowd of two hundred people or so break out in applause. Fire smiles and it reaches her eyes. She scans the crowd, but I’m confident she won’t see me. Her smile falls a little as she thanks everyone one last time and calls for the next speaker. She doesn’t stop to listen, she shakes hands with a dozen people on her way through the crowd to the back bar. I watch closely as she orders two champagnes and then brings the glasses to the back side of the rooftop area—away from where most everyone is gathered. Tennyson sits on a sleek couch and downs one of the glasses before bringing her hands to cover her face. Narrowing my eyes, I can tell she’s upset. The urge to comfort her grows until it’s almost unbearable.
A man walks up. He’s suave and clad in a tuxedo. He must ask if he can sit down, because even from here I see indecision light her eyes before she nods and then hands him the full glass she hasn’t gotten to yet. He laughs, makes a joke, and Fire smiles. This is the hard part. Do I walk over there and claim what’s mine? Do I let her life weave in a different, safer direction without me in it? I’m giving myself a silent, horrifying pep talk when I see him. Grey Fucking Morgan, in the shadows on the other side of the roof. He’s staring in her direction too. At them. Unlike me, he looks like he wants to kill—beady eyes flickering over the situation as his twisted mind conjures thoughts I can’t fathom.
It’s when I make the decision to back off and stay away—to let her have this man for the night if that’s what she chooses. I need to be a professional and use my training. Pushing aside my feelings for her is easy when it’s to protect her. I slink back farther, another angle, a new vantage point, and the trifecta of fucked up is exposed completely. Ariel, clad in a slinky red dress, hair tamed in a bun, is watching GreywatchTennyson. I’ve seen her naked once before, obviously, but I was high as a kite. I don’t recall her physique being so muscular, nor the lines on her face so severe. I can tell by her body language that she has no plans of alerting Grey to her presence. This isn’t the first time she’s seen this scene or one like it. There is no surprise written into her expression, just rage, directed at her boyfriend.
I settle in. My new post clear, and I fire off a quick text to Mercer to tell him my new discovery. He agrees to check in with me later and wishes me good luck. Fire is the last to leave, six glasses of champagne later, thank fuck, by herself. Grey and Ariel left thirty minutes prior, her disgruntled and him trying to brighten her mood. Fat chance, idiotic asshole. Clover knew Tennyson’s room number from checking in earlier under the guise she wanted to call direct to her room to make sure she was okay. 507. I ride the elevator down to the fifth floor about thirty seconds after she went down. I’m just in time to watch her stumble into her room. I don’t know the room layout, don’t know if the rooms connect. Are there balconies? Close enough for someone to jump from one to another? All things I didn’t anticipate having to know. I tuck myself into a nook that has an ice machine and a vending machine, and a clear view of her door. Pulling out my phone, I casually research as much as I can. When I’m confident she’s unreachable by any means except the front door, I hit up social media once again to see if anything was posted. Tennyson did post photos, mere minutes ago that she obviously set to public for a singular reason. Me. There are dozens of images of her looking spectacular. The last one, at the very end, is what she wants to show me. It’s of her and the tall man. He’s pressed his face against hers. Her caption: “This Aussie accent though.”
Jealousy is a hot knife to the heart. Even though I know she’s alone in her room, taking off that fucking dress all by herself, it pricks just the same. He got to have a piece of her I didn’t. The words she said about finding a man who loved her less but wasn’t afraid, strikes a fear down to my bones. There’s space enough for me in between the vending machine and ice machine, so I conceal myself further and sink down. This is when the jet lag combines with my insomnia and sleepiness hits. I can’t keep my eyes open, but surely if I rest my eyes for a minute or two, I’d be okay.Or just knock on her door and sleep with her, in her room.
The blackness hits before I have a chance to take my own good advice, and I fall asleep. It’s a dreamless darkness and my body responds immediately by powering down.
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My phone jolts me awake several hours later. Mercer is calling me. According to my call log, for the fifteenth time over the course of the past four hours. “Fuck,” I whisper, standing up, rubbing my stiff neck.
“I fell asleep, man. Sorry. What’s up?” The terror returns full force, causing me to stumble. “Clover spoke with Tennyson this morning. She was going to the pool at the hotel to swim laps. She was going to call her back when she was finished but didn’t. That was hours ago, man. Hours.” His tone is strained, and his fear for Fire is palpable.
I’m already running full speed to the stairwell. “Fuck.” I hang up the phone and pocket it as I jump to land on the platform in between stairwells. How many stairs can I skip without busting my ass? We’ll soon find out. I’m panting when I fly into the lobby, looking for signs for the gym or the pool. Fire won’t be there anymore, and I know wandering around her hotel right now is risky, she might see me, but the bad feeling coursing my veins is more powerful than the risk. She’s in trouble. I sense it. The hairs on my neck stand up when I see her boss walking out of the café outside. I run up to him. His expression tells me he’s trying to place me, but can’t. I met him once, very briefly when I was cleaning the docks. “Have you seen Tennyson?” I ask, tone stern.
He looks at me strangely and shakes his head. “No. I haven’t. I figured she’d be at lunch with the rest of us, but she and Grey must have decided on going to the lab instead.”
The lab. The fucking lab. “Is it opened yet?”
“Next week. But I’m sure there are some people there getting things set up. Can’t keep that girl away from research. I know she was chomping at the bit to see the inside of it. They decided to hold the event here last night instead of the lab because there were still some hard edges, things that needed to be completed for safety reasons, you know?” He licks his fat lips. “Do I know you, son?”
