Chapter Sixteen
Dean
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“I’M NOT LETTING YOU put yourself in the middle of it.”
Rafael repeated himself for what had to be the tenth time since we’d received that call from the hotel, but it wasn’t doing a whole lot to change my mind. How could it?
I was the one who had gotten her in this mess and I wasn’t going to let her deal with the blowback alone. She deserved help.
“I’m not just going to leave her to deal with this on her own,” I protested. Rafael shook his head.
“I know you don’t want to, but you could blow your cover,” he pointed out. “Whatever’s going on between Arianna and the Vogons, it’s none of our business. We stay out of it. You don’t even know about it, actually. You understand me?”
The way he was talking, he wasn’t leaving much room for me to argue. He knew he needed to put his foot down, or I was going to slide right out from underneath him and go to Arianna to help her. She needed me, I was sure of it.
“She can handle herself,” Rafael told me, practically reading my mind. I didn’t like this, not one bit. How could I have been so stupid, as to think her getting involved wouldn’t end with this woman getting hurt?
“She can handle herself and I’m not letting you blow the cover you’ve spent the last six months putting together for the sake of a con artist,” he added, and this time, I knew he had a point. There was no way I could avoid it. I had been so meticulous with this case, and if I made even one mistake, it might all fall apart. I didn’t know how I could handle it, but I had to find a way.
I finished my third beer and went to crack another. I wanted to get drunk; it felt like the only way I was going to be able to forget that damn woman. It was as though she was still clinging to me, the scent of her, the feel of her, something I wasn’t able to shake, and it was starting to drive me crazy. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle it.
But I’d have to. It was done. Whatever we’d had, we’d both known it wasn’t going to last. Whatever she was, whoever she was, I doubted honesty was exactly at the top of her list of priorities, and it wasn’t like I could claim any different, either. We were both playing a part. And we were both hoping our covers didn’t get blown. Hell, maybe she’d already talked her way out of it. She seemed like the type who could sweet-talk her way out of or into anything, it was part of her charm, part of her skillset. I had to admire it. She would have made a great undercover officer, though I doubted we would ever be able to trust her enough to actually bring her on board.
“What now?” I asked. I already had a feeling of where I would need to go next. As welcome as this brief return to reality was, it couldn’t last. I had to keep moving.
Rafael reached into the drawer and grabbed another burner phone, tossing it to me.
“Call Terrence,” he replied. “Tell him you’re alive. You’ve been laying low waiting for everything to cool off, but you’re ready to come back in now.”
I took a deep breath. I had no idea if I was going to be able to convince Terrence I was actually still on their side, but I had to try. He probably didn’t even know if I was alive or dead, and it was up to me to put those rumors to rest once and for all.
I dialed up his number, turned my back on Rafael, and reached for another beer. He must have been out at the mansion by now, probably licking his wounds and working out what the hell he was going to do next. I would have to come up with a story about why I hadn’t returned to him at once, one that had nothing to do with the woman who had totally waylaid me and made it impossible to focus on anything else.
“Hello?”
It took me a second to place the voice at the other end of the line – normally, one of the guys who worked in the house answered, but this was a Schwindel. Not Terrence, his voice was usually gruffer and sharper than that. Arnold? Really?
“It’s Dean,” I told Terrence’s uncle, wondering why he was the one picking up the phone right now. Terrence must have been busy if he was running around taking calls, and I wondered who the more formidable of the two was up to.
“Dean?” Arnold blurted out. “Shit, we thought you were dead. Where are you?”
“I’m hiding out in Chicago,” I told him, feeling myself slip comfortably back into the role I had been refining and perfecting for so long. The memories of Arianna seemed to distance themselves from my mind, as though they had happened to someone else entirely.
“Chicago? How did you end up there?” he asked.
“The meeting with the Vogons didn’t go as we planned,” I explained. “I had to make a run for it.”
“But Chicago? That’s a hell of a long way from New York,” he remarked, and I could practically see the confusion on his face. Or were they trying to catch me out? Trying to make me walk into a trap? I needed to be careful. I needed to pace this out very, very carefully, or else I might be in for some serious trouble.
“I hitched a ride with someone to the airport and I just hopped on the first flight I could find there,” I explained, trying to sound distracted. I didn’t want him interrogating me anymore. I needed him to accept me back into the fold, and I could pick up where I left off.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “Tired. I’ve been keeping watch here to see if the Vogons are still after me, but it looks like I’ve lost them.”
“Good,” he muttered. Had they heard from the Vogons, regarding that messy-ass meeting that had left Ian dead? I had no idea. I wanted to ask, but I was sure it would make more sense for me to go over everything in person as soon as I got the chance. I would be able to glean more than I would over the phone – they gave themselves away when they were right in front of me, and I needed every little bit of help in that regard that I could get.