Riley: Subterfuge
I wait for Jack to bring my drink back. I want him to tell me what the hell happened to those people in Black Pines. I’m sure the girl is dead, but I want to make him say it to me. My thoughts drift and wander for a while, and when I come back to the present, he still hasn’t returned. I see him still at the bar. Talia Amontillado is draped along it and leaning in close to him. She’s pouring words I can’t make out into his ear. Jack’s listening to her intently.
He’s just talking to her. She’s practically the head of his organization. It’s nothing. He has to talk to her, I try to tell myself. But Jack doesn’t leave. He stays standing there next to her, even though the bartender’s brought him the drinks already.
Don’t be stupid. What do you even care if Jack’s talking to another girl? You shouldn’t want his fucking attention anyway. But I feel a heaviness in my heart that’s nearly unbearable.
Jack glances over to me and I look away. Talia drapes herself around him and he steps away from her for a moment, but he doesn’t leave. I tell myself to relax. He’s just having a conversation. But the minutes drag on and on and he stays at Talia’s side.
I feel sick to my stomach, and no matter how much I tell myself to stop being a stupid girl, I can’t make it go away.
And then Jack walks out of the bar with Talia. He doesn’t even give me a second glance.
I should’ve known, I should’ve known, I should’ve known. What did I expect, that he’d throw everything away and marry me and suddenly not be a violent criminal anymore? Yeah, actually, that would’ve been nice. I bite my lip hard because I feel, for just a moment, like I’m going to cry.
I knew better. I knew better from the very beginning. I’m not the type of girl a guy gives everything up for. I’m not really the type of girl a guy gives anything up for.
I’ve been so stupid.
I’m a normal person dressed up in fancy wrapping. Jack saw this whole thing as an amusing distraction all along. Or just a part of his job. Get the girl ready for Daemon. And Daemon’s just a sick weirdo. He must get some type of amusement out of this. Maybe he’s had so many gorgeous women that a normal girl is an entertaining curiosity for him. Maybe he just wants to have me so he can get himself off on mocking me.
My eyes burn and I shake my head angrily. I should be glad. It was wrong, what I let Jack do to me. I shouldn’t want his attention anyway.
I wander to the bar and order a drink for myself. Gulp it down a little too fast. My mother’s voice rings in my head, “Stupid, idiot, delusional girl…” I should’ve known. I let my guard down with Jack and it turns out that I was worthless to him all along. What did I think—a few nights of passion meant something?
He’s been using me against the Montcrests and for his own distraction. That’s it. I swallow the rest of my drink and order another.
Jack doesn’t come back. Christie and Benjy take me back to the San Sorreno.
“Jack has…a lot to balance,” Christie ventures cautiously.
I shrug. “If it gets him away from me I’m fine with whatever he needs to balance.”
We reach the penthouse. We were all at the bar for a long time. It’s early morning. The sun hasn’t risen, but I can’t sleep. Christie and Benjy don’t seem intent on keeping me locked up. I shower then obediently dress in my maid uniform. I don’t feel the excitement or arousal I felt at first. What’s the point if Jack’s not looking at me? my traitorous mind offers, unbidden.
I should want to revolt. To disobey or get angry or scream. But that would show I cared. I don’t even feel angry, exactly. Just sad.
So when I realize what I have to do, it’s not out of any desire for revenge. It’s duty. Jack and his people still need to be stopped. Byron and Ariadne still need that information. I strip some bedsheets and take them down to the laundry room. Christie seems to be humoring me—allowing me to work instead of sleeping, even though it’s not the time for it.
I write Byron on the phone, letting him know that Jack was behind taking down the Vilkorovs upstate and that Daemon’s council is definitely happening—and happening soon. I send Byron everything I know in case this next step goes really, really wrong.
I tuck the phone away and move back to Jack’s penthouse. It’s empty. Christie and Benjy have been called away on other duties or are choosing to give me space out of pity. I go to Jack’s room. It takes me a while to find the hidden panel with the keypad. I’m worried there’ll be some secret method to opening it, but I find it by just pressing on the wall. The panel clicks in and slides open.
Guilt burns in my stomach. I don’t want to hurt Jack. Even if it’s for a greater good, this still feels like a betrayal. But I have a chance to stop a lot of people from doing some really bad things. The Amontillados hurt people. Jack might not think it matters, but it does. I don’t want to hurt him, but if I have even the smallest chance, I have to try to stop the people he’s working with.
I take a deep breath and stare at the pad. There are a dozen ways this could not work—I could've gotten the code wrong when I watched him punch it in through half-closed eyes. I could've remembered it wrong. Jack could've changed it in the interim. There could be some extra security measure I don't know about.
I want to run away. My heart is thundering and it feels like it’s wedged halfway up my throat. But this is the perfect time to do it. Christie and Benjy are giving me space out of guilt, and Jack is going to be gone for a long time—happily fucking distracted in sexy little Talia Amontillado’s bed. I’ll be free all morning.
I punch the code in. The seam appears on the wall and the panel slides open. Holy crap, it worked. I step into Jack’s inner sanctum and flick the light on. It reveals a rich, ornate, immaculately organized office with a large desk at the far end and more bookshelves lining the walls. I almost can’t believe that there’s not more security, but then I realize why: Jack’s already let me past most of the security. I’m one of the only ones allowed at the top of the penthouse, one of the only ones allowed into his room.
I feel another pang of guilt. The Amontillados are hurting people. He may be beautiful up close, but you still need to stop the terrible things he’s doing. I tell myself that, deep down inside himself somewhere, Jack would want me to do this, even if he won't admit it. He's good and decent, still, even if he won't admit that, either. Deep inside, he can't possibly be okay with working with such evil men. I don't know why I feel so sure of that, but I do. Kill the monsters and save the man.
I go to the desk and start sifting through the papers on top of it. There’s a high-tech computer on the desk—I don’t even recognize the brand; it looks like a custom build. It’s password protected. The drawers are all locked, but there’s an impressive-looking letter opener sitting on a shelf. I realize it’s just an actual knife. That works for me.
I take it, jam it through the top drawer, and leverage it. Luckily nothing breaks. The latch fastening it shut simply pops free and the drawer slides open. There are more papers inside and I rifle through them. No ledger yet, but there’s a map with coordinates on it.
The island. The meeting.
This is where Jack’s taking me—where he’s going to meet the other heads of the syndicate. The coordinates are in messy handwriting—not Jack’s. Benjy or someone else must’ve been in here and been foolish enough to note down Daemon’s secret meet-up spot in actual writing. Maybe Jack didn’t notice it on the map. For whatever reason, it’s there.
I stare at the numbers and repeat them to myself until I have them committed to memory.
I take out another pile of papers and start going through them.
Guilt rushes through me again but I push forward, repeating to myself that I just won’t let this hurt Jack—no matter what he’s done to hurt me personally. I’ll get the information to Byron, but when the police raid finally comes, I’ll warn Jack at the last minute—I’ll get him out. Byron will have to tell me when it’s happening—he’ll want me to know for my own safety; he’ll want me to lay low somewhere so they can’t use me as a hostage. It could work. I’ll use that time to get Jack somewhere away from the raid, then I’ll warn him. He’ll be able to get away, to hide. He’ll lose his empire, but he won’t be hurt. I bite my lip and force myself to go the through the papers.
Time to find all of Jack Turner’s secrets.