Ariel

 

His words sound so familiar and I know I’ve heard them somewhere before. But where? If I think about it, everything about Zack feels familiar, like I know him from somewhere. From the beginning, he knew I liked tea. Someone had stocked Apothic Red in the kitchen. And how did Zack know about me? About Luca from the beginning?

I enjoy being around Zack, and the past several days he’s been wonderful. He’s held me when I cried, made me laugh, shared his bed with me when I was too scared to sleep in my own. It feels like I’ve known him a lot longer than a week. I head to the bedroom with more questions than answers. I know I’m missing something. Something important.

Staring into the mirror, I grab the edge of the dressing and peel it back for the first time since the surgery. Four perfectly placed stitches stare back at me. A grim reminder that I almost died before I ever lived.

I can’t pull my gaze away from the incision, the one that almost killed me. If Davie had pressed a little harder, he would’ve severed my artery and I would have died within minutes, maybe seconds.

I’m supposed to wait a few more days, but I want a shower. A nice . . . hot . . . shower, and I’m going to take one. All my life, I’ve done what I’m told, stayed out of trouble, and now I want to do what I want to do. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s no one stopping me.

The hot water feels like heaven as it gently runs down my back. I just stand there with my arms at my side, not washing, just thinking.

I miss Luca. I miss his overbearing ways. A smile teases my lips when I remember how he pushed his way into my apartment, passed my boundaries, and demanded to be let in. But I’m sure he’ll move on. Why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t know where I am or when I’ll be back. We made no commitments to each other, and he’s a sexy man.

And then there’s Altruist, my first friend when I moved to the city. Who knows what he thinks happened to me. I feel as if I’ve let him down. When I went to the club he . . .

He . . .

My mind skims through a few of our conversations. When I worried about going to the club he said I might have fun. “I’m not the clubbing type,” I said. When I asked about . . . he said . . .

I twist the knob to turn off the shower, quickly step out, and yank a towel from the rack, roughly drying my body. I’m pissed. I throw on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and storm through the house. Zack’s cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

Even though I have a million things to say to him, I contemplate what to say first.

He turns, the smile dropping when he sees the anger burning in my eyes. “When were you gonna tell me?” I stand with my hands on my hips, tapping my foot.

“Tell you what?” He averts his eyes and slowly dries his hands on a dishtowel.

“Let’s see,” my chest is heaving, “You know I like hot tea and not coffee. My favorite wine is Apothic Red, and then you said there’s not a lot of time for fun. You said that exact same thing to me in the chat room!” I’m almost yelling, but that’s okay. I’m tired of being used. “Tell me this, was it planned? Was the FBI looking for Frank Stone’s missing daughter?” For a moment I’m afraid I might cry, but I tamp it down. And then it hits me. With a sardonic smile, I say, “You were after the thumb drive.”

He’s right in front of me now, hands on my shoulders. I step back, but he doesn’t let me as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. “It’s not like that, Brylee.”

I feel so confused right now. “Are you Altruist?” My voice is shaky, and even though I already know, I need to hear him say it.

Zack hugs me tight, and in a low voice, he says, “Yes. But I didn’t know who you were, not until you went missing.”

“How did you find out?”

He releases me and then rubs his forehead, clearly frustrated. “Let’s have a seat in the living room.” He extends his arm in that direction, wanting me to go first.

Zack sits on the couch. I sit in the chair and face him. I feel like such a fool. It’s all been a façade, or at least it feels like it.

“When we started talking, I didn’t know who you were.” He leans back and crosses his ankle over his knee. “I stay busy with work, but one night I was home alone with nothing but my computer. That’s when we started arguing over movies.”

I remember that night. He made it clear he had a girlfriend and it was just anonymous chatting. “And your girlfriend?”

Looking at the floor, he says, “I lied.”

I may have left a lot of things out, but the only lie I told him was that Luca and Matt were names I made up. The situation was real.

“When you told me they’d found you and that you would have to move again, I acted on a hunch.”

I lean forward. “What do you mean?”

“Me and my partner, Tyler, headed to New York. We started searching for a club owner with the first name Luca. When we found him, we found you.”

My mind is reeling. With such little information, he found me in a city with millions. Millions! “How did you know I was in New York?”

He’s tight-lipped when he says, “We have our ways.”

“When Alex kidnapped me, you were already in New York because I told you they had found me and I might have to move again?”

Zack takes a deep breath and says, “Yes.”

“Where do you live?”

“Near DC.”

I’m trying to understand, to straighten the facts out in my head. “When did you realize who I was?”

He looks uncomfortable, his eyes darting all around before landing on me. “I searched your apartment. My partner and I saw the picture of you and your mother. We recognized her right away.”

“You know Mom?”

“Yes.”

Oh my God! There’s so much information, I can’t think. I need to think. “Wait . . .” I rub my head, trying to understand. “How did you know I was Syrah?”

“Your computer was sitting on the counter. Our last conversation was still on the screen.”

“That’s right. I was talking to you when I got a call.” I glance at him. “You were already in New York that night?”

“Yes.”

I don’t know how to feel. I’m angry that everything he told me as Altruist was a lie. Although I remain still, only blinking and breathing, my heart is pounding in my chest. Everything I thought I knew about him, everything I felt has just shattered. My friend seems more like a stranger, and yet he’s been so kind and gentle with me the entire time.

“Brylee, say something?”

But I can’t. My mind’s on overload as it sifts through everything he’s ever said. A few minutes later . . .

“Elena?”

“Someone I would see from time to time.”

“You didn’t date her?”

“Not really.”

“Your job?” I chew on my lower lip, thinking.

“FBI.” Yes, he’s FBI but he told me he was a police officer. They’re not even close. All good men, but . . .

All lies. Everything he ever told me has been lies. How can I trust what he’s telling me right now? Think . . .

“Where’s Frank?”

“I told you. He’s in prison awaiting trial.”

“Davie’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“You know Mom?”

“I do.” He licks his lips before he starts to talk. “Caroline wanted a better life for you. She agreed to help us in exchange for the witness protection program for the two of you. She copied Frank’s computer files, but before she could get out, he somehow found out and threatened to kill you if anyone came looking for him. That day, he threw Caroline out of the house. By the time we had enough evidence to search, you were gone.”

“Where’s Mom now?” My heart’s pounding with anticipation. I can’t wait to throw my arms around her neck, tell her that it’s not her fault. It’s Frank’s.

“Gone.” My heart shatters with the one word. “She thought Frank had killed you, and then she worried he had sold you into the sex industry. The grief was too much, and one day she disappeared.”

Tears flood my eyes when I think of the fear and heartache my mom had to endure. “Mom,” my voice quivers, “I knew she didn’t leave me.”

Zack is off the couch and scooping me up in his arms before too many tears can fall. He carries me back to the couch and sits with me still on his lap.

“I’m so sorry, Brylee.”

I sniff, and with my head resting on his chest, I ask, “You don’t know where she is?”

“I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”

“It’s okay.” I wipe my eyes. “At least now I know she’s alive.” I raise up and look into his blue eyes. “I always thought that Frank or Davie had killed her.”

I climb off his lap and get to my feet.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To the bedroom. This is a lot to take in and I need to think.”