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"You're too pure." Rhea agrees, nodding. "And that's a compliment, my friend."
"If you say so." I focus on peeling at the label on my drink, trying to force all thoughts of Remington Boudreaux out of my mind. "I'm going to try to walk off this buzz. You coming?"
"Hell no. I'm not buzzed enough." As if to illustrate her point, Rhea tips the bottle back again and drains it in a fluid motion. "You have fun, though."
I finish my drink too, and then stand. Jovich rounds the corner as I’m just about to slip out the back door. "Going somewhere?" He asks, eyeing me shrewdly. His large shoulders shroud out the light from the hall behind him, and his face is cast in shadows. If I was wary of him before, I’m even more nervous now.
"A walk." I swallow, gesturing to the door. "Along the beach, if that's okay."
He watches me silently at first, and then finally he nods as if I needed his permission. Honestly, I’m not entirely certain that I don’t. I thought I was a guest, but the way Jovich seems so suspicious of me and the way Elaine had regarded me so coldly, I have to wonder if I really am.
I can feel Jovich watching me, his eyes following me into the night, and try not to be bothered by it. I’m in paradise with my best friend and a devastatingly handsome man who has shown a modicum of interest in me. But am I simply falling into the trap that is Remington Boudreaux? I know next to nothing about him except that he kisses me like it’s both my first and last kiss... equal parts tentative, respectful, and so deeply passionate that it lights me on fire with need.
Rhea seems to think I’m not capable of standing on my own. I don't fault her for it. We are always truthful with one another, even if that means being blatantly honest at times, and with how heavily we rely upon one another, she’s probably just being overprotective. Rhea clearly doesn't hold an esteemed view of her brother's character when it comes to his love life.
But at the same time, I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions. Hell, I’m old enough to drink and smoke if I want to and travel across the world on a moment's notice because, apparently, those are the kind of people I know. Surely that means I am capable of choosing for myself where I want things to go with Remy.
I sigh, realizing that I've gotten ahead of myself. One kiss doesn't mean anything, even if I did feel that kiss all the way down to my toes. Rhea kisses plenty of people, even our old roommates. To some people, a kiss is just that. It doesn't mean that Remy necessarily even wants anything more from me. He effectively disappeared after that kiss, and given that Jovich is intent on tailing me instead of attending to his boss, there’s a good possibility he is with someone else right now.
I turn my eyes to the horizon, so dark it’s indistinguishable from the sea lying still below it. The moon is nowhere to be seen, and suddenly the darkness seems stifling. When I turn back toward the house, I realize I walked further than I thought. The house lights are just faint pinpricks against the darkness of the jungle behind it.
A breeze ripples through the air, shaking the treetops. I shiver too, but not because of the cold. The distinct feeling of being watched has crept up my spine and chased goosebumps down the backs of my arms. A quick glance around reveals what I expected... I’m entirely alone out here. Which means Jovich is probably still watching me from the house.
I wait a minute, frozen in time, to see if the feeling dissipates. But it only grows stronger and stronger, until I find myself running back to the safety of the house.
Chapter nineteen
Remy
"You look a bit pale, Anton." I tilt my head to get a better view of the man bound to the chair before me. His skin is always stark white in contrast to his greasy black hair, but especially with the blood loss, he doesn't look good.
Anton is just one in a long line of people who had bad blood with my father. I've seen that chubby, ghostly face in countless photos, always attached to whatever his newest demands are. Anton thought he was untouchable because his uncle was my father's closest ally. Something tells me he just figured out what I learned years ago:
Nobody is untouchable in this business.
"How are you feeling?" It actually sounds like I care. The thought chills me more than the hatred in his eyes. I’m not supposed to have feelings. Those will only make everything so much more complicated. I’ve done a good job staving them off for years, and I definitely don’t care about Anton.
"Mu-dak!" Anton spits, but he’s so exhausted it doesn’t go far. It just mixes in with the blood slowly dribbling down his chin.
Pathetic.
"I'm glad you're well." I tell him calmly. "Because I have all night. I'm not sure I can say the same for you."
That is true on both accounts. I don’t want to be here—the alternative was far more appealing. But the moment has passed, and I won’t get it back tonight, so I may as well take my time sourcing the information I want.
"Bastard." His waxy face crumbles in disgust and rage. He knows that, unlike me, he doesn't have all night. Jovich toyed with him before me, and though I can't know the extent of what he did to him, I know that without medical intervention, he has at most a few hours left before there will be more blood on the floor than in his body.
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I'm afraid." I shrug. "Speaking of... are you going to tell me who killed my father or are we going to go another round?"
The chair strains against the metal bolts that secure it to the floor, trembling with the force of Anton's fury as he growls. He looks like he’s being electrified… or possessed. He shakes and slams his head forward until finally he stills enough to grin up at me through a curtain of dark hair that’s limp with grease and sweat. "I don't know who did it, but they deserve a goddamn medal!"
My eyes flicker down to Anton's, dark as a starless night and full of hatred. They’re the kind of eyes that I imagine a demon would possess. Jonathan Boudreaux hadn't been a good man. In fact, I quite agree with the Russian's assessment of my dear old dad. But I can't very well let Anton know as much. So, I sigh and shake my head sadly. I really didn't want to be pulled away from Claire to do this, but my need for answers outweighs my own selfish desires.
"Alright. You want to do this the hard way." I turn around, giving him half a moment to reconsider his answer before I back and punch Anton right in the nose.
Even with using half of my energy, Anton's head jerks back with the force. Blood flies through the air, covering my knuckles. When he readies himself again, his thin lips are pulled into a snarl. "You hit like a woman." Despite that sentiment, he spits blood on the floor, and I notice the front tooth that had been there a moment ago is now missing. Guess he swallowed it.
"So, you don't want to tell me who killed my father.” That’s fine. That is honestly the least of my problems. “Let's talk about the call I got a couple nights ago."
