Page 54 of Sweet Lies

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The club is hot, with bodies dancing and moving through the room, and the music bangs against my ears. If you can even call it music—I find it annoying and would prefer a live band or a jackhammer compared to this noise. The dancers seem unfazed by it though as they rock against each other.

I follow Elijah’s small group from a distance. Claire has her arm wrapped around Alex, and Elijah is with a woman that works for them, Lily, but they seem far too friendly. There has to be more there than business and friendship.

I wait till the moment he realizes someone is watching him to slide outside. He was trained just as I was to pick up on signs and go with his gut, so I don’t have to wait long for him to join me.

“You look good for a dead guy,” I say, emerging from the darkness.

He laughs. “What can I say? I have a good moisturizer. Last I heard, you were in Rome.”

I snort. “Where did you hear that?”

“I still have some friends.”

“Ha. We both know they’re all waiting to see how this plays out before coming out of the woodwork. You better check what side they’re on before you call them friend,” I fire back.

“What should I call you then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll see, won’t we? Everything is set.”

“Will you stand with me?” he asks, needing the answer.

“I’ll stand with you that day. The days to follow, we’ll see. Coming back to the family fold…I’ve become too much a loner for that, I fear.”

He nods. “Thank you, my friend.”

I nod before stepping away.

“Did you know?” he demands.

I won’t betray her. “No. I thought she was dead, just like you.”

With that, I leave, as there’s nothing left to say. I know he expects me to find her, and I will, because I wouldn’t trust anyone else to bring her in safely. Elijah will find her one way or the other.

It would make her life a hell of a lot better if she came with me willingly, but I laugh at the thought. There’s a better chance of pigs learning to fly. I’d hoped I’d left Rebecca in the past, but it seems fate has a different plan for us all. Who would survive the family reunion was the question.

* * *

Rebecca has become good at hiding, and that’s high praise coming from me. But I’ll find her; I always find my marks. She’s just taking a little more time. It’s annoying, though. I’d hoped this would be easy.

It’s been a few weeks since I agreed to find her, and a lot has happened in that time. Elijah has returned to New York with Lily, and is in the process of regaining his kingdom. Once I find Rebecca, I’ll take her to her brother, call it a job well done, and go back to forgetting Rebecca Rossi.

Her terrified, broken face from the night I found her flashes through my mind before I banish it back into the box where I lock away anything that might make me human.

I could have stopped this at the very beginning—convinced her to choose another way or forced her to go to them. The moment she saw them, I knew something had taken over. It was written on her face—her eyes turned hard in a split second. It was a reaction anyone could have read; nothing was concealed. If Elijah or Claire had seen her face, they would have immediately known their future.

I would have let Rebecca do her own thing, but unfortunately for her, Elijah is of more use to me alive and back in power. I can’t have her messing with the plan. Once I get her to Elijah, it’s a simple family matter—I’m sure they’ll work it out.

Elijah would never kill Rebecca, even if he believes he would. Rebecca, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about. She’s a wild card, and I hate having those in a game.

She knows I’m trying to find her and has led me on a wild goose chase. My patience is running thin, but today’s the day. I received word she’s staying at a nearby motel and have been waiting for her to appear.

Day fades to night and, for a second, I think this is another chase she’s sent me on. But then she appears. A wig covers her head, but I would recognize her anywhere from her body and how she moves.

Doing what I’m good at, I blend into the shadows and catch her door an inch before it closes. She’s packing a bag when I slide up behind her. She turns as if she’s expecting me, a shirt in her hand.

“I would offer you a drink, but I’m sure this isn’t a social call,” she states calmly.

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