Love me darkly, p.29
Love Me Darkly, page 29
part #1 of Behind The Veil #1 Series
Leaving the breakroom, she muttered to herself under her breath. “Get it together, Mel.”
If she didn’t stop daydreaming about Mateo, she was going to give herself away. It was going to be hard enough to control her instinctive reactions to his nearness with Roman hovering nearby. The man was perceptive, especially concerning the people under his control. He would notice if something was off with her.
As she sidled back to the bar to check in with Rudy, Melody tried to mentally prepare herself for what the following days and weeks might bring. She had no way of knowing how long Korenic would be in town, how much time he would spend at Solstice, or how he would respond to the raids. She didn’t know if he was aware that he and his entire organization were under federal investigation. One thing she did know for certain, once Roman learned all the details of the aftermath—that Suede, Wilson, and Morrison had, apparently, all started talking to save their own asses—Roman was going to be furious. There would be consequences, retaliation. Blood. He would be even more suspicious of the people in his inner circle, watching them all like a hawk. Melody would be under a microscope.
The familiar anxiety began welling up in her again, and she took a few deep breaths to settle herself. She had to pull herself together by tomorrow. She had to push aside memories of The Copper Rose and that little motel off the highway. She had to stop imagining other nights like that in her future, more moments in which a man she did not deserve opened a previously foreign world to her. A world of dates and pet names and whispered conversations in the dark. A world of dizzying kisses and soul-stirring lovemaking and feelings that were too new and fragile to name. Because the truth was, there was no future with Mateo, nothing they could have beyond that one perfect night. He might not know it yet—he would never want to admit it—but whatever was happening between them was now ending before it really even started. It had to. For the sake of both her life and his, it had to.
“Hey, cher,” Rudy yelled to be heard over the music, waving his hand to catch her attention. “Bottle service, VIP 3.”
Melody accepted the ice-filled champagne bucket and tray holding three bottles and a scattering of flutes. She moved by rote, lifting the tray to her shoulder and holding the bucket in her other hand as she weaved her way through the second-floor tables toward VIP. The club was nearly full already, the excitement for tomorrow night’s event drawing a lot of regulars. Melody acknowledged familiar faces as she moved through the crowd, noticing several pairs of eyes following her. Roman’s spies.
She found four men in VIP booth 3, where the remnants of a previous bottle service sat scattered on the table in front of them. They mostly ignored her as she cleared the empty bottles and dirty glasses to replace them with the fresh ones. A hand fell on the back of one thigh from behind, sliding up to cup an ass cheek. Melody gritted her teeth and choked down the flash of anger burning in her throat. She’d been groped and pinched more times than she could count, and not just at Solstice. In the past, she might not have reacted, so used to being treated like a piece of meat or a toy. That was before Mateo. Before he had shown her what it felt like to be cherished and desired. To be loved.
A champagne flute fell from her grasp, her fingers suddenly growing numb. She stumbled, and one of the men caught her by the arm, putting her upright.
“You all right, doll face?”
Melody blinked and shook her head, trying to regain hold of her equilibrium. All four of the men were watching her, mildly curious but mostly leering. She recognized two of them as guys Roman had entertained at the club on multiple occasions.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll clean it up.”
They dismissed her, going back to their conversation while she crouched to pick up the cracked flute. She made quick work of laying out their bottle service before collecting everything and making her escape. Finding the booth next to them empty, she fell onto the black leather sofa and tossed her tray down. She was suddenly dizzy and out of sorts, her heart taking up a rapid cadence against her ribs.
Loved? Had she really convinced herself that what Mateo felt toward her could in any way be misconstrued as love? Infatuation, sure. Obsession, absolutely. Sympathy, no question. But love?
She was projecting. This was nothing more than the fantasy of the little girl inside her, that pesky piece of her heart that still remained even after all she had endured. She was so starved for affection, so lonely in a world filled with people who only wanted her for what she could give them, that she’d interpreted simple acts of kindness as something else. She had twisted their significance, telling herself they meant things they didn’t. Mateo was stressed, lonely, and grieving. He had latched onto her for reasons she couldn’t understand; that even he didn’t seem to understand. That didn’t equal love. He didn’t know her, not really. He still didn’t know the truth.
“The fuck was wrong with that bitch?”
Melody perked up as the voices of the men in VIP 3 drifted toward her.
“Probably nervous … feds have been hanging around the club ...”
“No fucking way.”
Melody almost doubled over, one hand braced against her belly. How the hell did they know about the feds? Did they know about Mateo specifically? She held her breath and leaned around the side of her couch. She didn’t want them to notice her lingering nearby, but could only make out so much of what they were saying.
“ … Suede, Wilson, and Morrison … all arrested …”
“Security will be tight … Korenic won’t risk it … eyes everywhere.”
“Gonna have to lay low for a while.”
They abruptly changed the subject, so Melody slowly eased back upright on the sofa. She remained where she sat long enough that they might not notice her walking away. Picking up the tray, she rushed back to the bar and hurled everything down in front of Rudy.
“Gotta pee,” she announced. “Be right back.”
She ignored him yelling after her that she’d just come off a break, nearly colliding with a group of drunk girls coming from downstairs as she made her way back to the break room. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against it, relieved to find the room still empty. Her breath burned in her lungs, and her heart now beat so hard and fast she feared it might leap out of her throat.
It made sense for Korenic and his associates to fear the feds after the raids. But if Suede and the others had all talked, the FBI had to know about the connection to Roman, who owned Solstice. She wasn’t sure if Roman had actual proof that Mateo and his crew had been sniffing around at the club, but that didn’t matter. If Roman didn’t know exactly who was closing in on him, he would find out. He always did.
This was exactly what she had tried to warn Mateo about. She had seen this coming the moment she’d realized he wasn’t just coming to Solstice for pretty waitresses and bad Scotch.
Pushing away from the door, she went back to her locker and retrieved her phone. With shaking hands, she typed in Mateo’s number. Staring at the cursor, she chewed her lip and considered what she might say. She didn’t want to worry him, or he’d come running right this second, and that was the last thing she needed. But she had to see him before Glow Night, warn him that he was close to being compromised. While she was at it, maybe she could tell him the rest of it. Maybe he would understand and help her like he’d promised. Maybe …
“No,” she whispered to herself, blinking back tears. “It has to be a clean break.”
There would be no way out of this for him otherwise. If she didn’t protect him, he would get himself killed. And she could only protect him if she pushed him away. She had her own plans, which had been in place since before she’d known of Mateo’s existence. She would make sure he stayed away this time, and then look out for herself as she always had. It was the only way. Before she could talk herself out of it, she shot off her message before shoving her phone back into her bag and hurrying back to work.
We need to talk. Tomorrow night. Before Glow.
Mateo rushed into his hotel room, dropping everything he carried and rushing toward the bathroom. He only had a few hours before he would meet up with Donovan to head to Solstice for Glow Night. He had spent the morning and afternoon in conferences with various team members. There were numerous logistics to attend to while preparations were made for the upcoming nationwide raid, and the surveillance on the temple of The Veil.
He had spent hours doing undercover prep with Jones. During breaks, Mateo reviewed the finer points of his cover with Darcy, called in to see how Smith’s efforts with Caleb were going, and consulted with Williams on the proposal for the undercover operation. There had even been time for a quick call to Valentina during his lunch break. Angelica had been at school, but he’d been content enough with a report that she was safe and eating and sleeping as she should. Lessons at her new ballet school began last week and she already like her instructor.
There wasn’t much time for him to shower and get dressed before heading to Melody’s apartment. He would need to approach carefully, making sure he wasn’t seen or followed before he could climb up to her balcony. Her text had been on his mind since it came through last night, sending a spike of unease through him. He hadn’t responded, unsettled by her sudden message after their casual flirtation earlier. The suddenness of it had him wondering if something had happened. Whatever it was, she couldn’t risk a phone call or a more detailed text. Something was wrong.
Mateo fought to calm his racing thoughts while speeding through a shower and a change of clothes. Melody was probably just nervous about Korenic coming back to town. She needed him to reassure her that he had things well in hand, that she was safe. He could give her that before shifting his focus to his mission for the night. Maybe seeing each other beforehand would be a good idea—making it easier for them to pretend to ignore one another once they were at Solstice. He would hold her, kiss her, and reassure her, and everything would be fine. It would be easier to give her those reassurances after the revelations of the past few days and the progress that had been made.
Once he was dressed, his eyes fell on his laptop, which sat open on the desk. He tapped a key to unlock it and typed in his passkeys. There were several layers of security to get through before he could access the encrypted government-issue computer, and he performed them all mechanically.
It was probably too soon for him to get anything interesting off the Korenic penthouse wiretap; the man had only just arrived that morning and probably hadn’t spent much time at home. Still, the software indicated that a few recordings were waiting to be listened to. The wire had picked up a conversation or two. He had showered and changed quickly enough to have time to listen before leaving.
Sinking into the chair, Mateo took up his earbuds and connected them. He poured himself a half-tumbler of Scotch before pressing play on the first one. It was nothing but the sounds of Roman arriving at the penthouse, his luggage being dragged across the carpet, and orders being barked at a maid. Mateo closed the audio file and pulled up another, this one a phone call. Korenic was talking to someone in a foreign language that Mateo couldn’t decipher, his tone sharp and ruthless. His accent was thicker in his native tongue, the syllables curving off his tongue and the consonants biting. He ended the call with a string of what sounded like curses before the sound of something crashing against a wall exploded in Mateo’s ear. The next two recordings were similar, with Mateo growing bored and checking the time as he came to the end. There was one more recording, and it was longer than the others. Significantly longer. Had Korenic had a visitor?
Sitting up straight, Mateo pressed play. Roman’s voice came through first, so loud that Mateo had to turn down the volume to keep from cringing. The man was clearly pissed.
“I don’t want excuses, you pathetic fuck! I want answers! What’s the use of having NOPD in our pocket if shit like this is going to happen?”
No response that Mateo could hear, which meant this was likely another phone call. Mateo took another sip of Scotch, settling in for another snoozer. It occurred to him that he might be right that Korenic wasn’t the UNSUB. He had heard the UNSUB’s voice twice now, and there had been no hint of a foreign accent.
“I want Suede’s head dipped in gold and mounted on my mantel. I want Morrison’s balls in a jar. I want Wilson’s fucking tongue on a silver platter! Those motherfuckers will have everyone else thinking they can go running to the feds for protection. I won’t stand for it!”
A thump and a curse. Footsteps. Then, a slow, long sniff and a groan. Mateo inclined his head, pretty certain he’d just heard Korenic take a bump of cocaine. His theory was proven when Korenic sniffed again. Aggressively.
“You think I give a fuck about that bitch’s family? I want them all … the kids, the fucking dog, the goldfish. I want to send a message, and I want it sent now!”
More shuffling around. A second voice murmuring in the background. Mateo frowned, leaning closer to the laptop as if that would help matters. Remembering the volume, he turned it up. Someone else was in the penthouse, maybe on a phone call of their own in the next room. The voice was muffled and low, female. Mateo wondered if the maid was still hanging around.
“New Orleans is dead. It’ll stay that way for at least a couple of months while we lay low. I want any remaining cargo taken out of the state. Get on the phone with that asshole from Memphis … you know the guy. Tell him we need transport ASAP.”
Mateo heard the sound of something slamming against a surface, then another impact, this one harder. Something splintered or cracked, likely under Roman’s fist. The man was having a tantrum, bellowing and cursing while pacing. Mateo could hear his rushed breaths and heavy footsteps.
“Roman … baby, relax.”
The second voice. Louder. Closer. Definitely female.
A low vibration hummed in Mateo’s gut, rippling out to the tips of his fingers and toes. Clearly, he was hearing things. The woman’s voice had sounded … familiar.
“Don’t tell me to fucking relax,” Korenic snapped. “Those asshole feds just destroyed an entire branch of my business overnight.”
The sounds of his movements had stilled, and Mateo held his breath, waiting for a reply from Korenic’s companion. His lungs burned through the long silence, the sound of a drawer opening and closing, more footsteps.
“Come on, baby. This’ll take the edge off.”
Roman sniffed again, this time releasing a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, fuck, that’s some good shit. Gimme some more … no, put it on your … yes, right there … come here.”
Another sniff, and then a wet sound that made Mateo’s stomach wrench violently. Someone’s skin being kissed, licked.
“There you go,” she purred. “Feeling better already.”
Mateo’s chest heaved as he now felt as if he’d taken in too much air. His lungs swelled, and he was drowning, choking, dying by excruciating degrees.
“Melody.”
Her name fell from his lips, a prayer, a desperate plea. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be her.
But it was her. Mateo couldn’t ignore what his ears told him as every conversation they’d ever had overwhelmed his mind. The truth made itself more apparent with every word. Her tone, her inflection, her cadence. He knew them all. He knew them as he knew her scent and her taste and the feel of her wrapped around him.
“… what the fuck I’m going to do.”
Mateo flinched, realizing he’d lost hold of the conversation. He was reeling, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. But he couldn’t let himself experience the full realization of what he was hearing yet. Not until he knew everything. Not until he proved to himself that this was some kind of misunderstanding or mistake.
There was no mistaking what he heard when Melody spoke again. The voice coming at him was hard, icy, cold. Nothing like his sweet baby girl.
“Look at me, baby. Who are you?”
Korenic sniffed again and grunted. “I’m Roman fucking Korenic.”
“That’s right. You’re in charge … you run this shit. If anybody can fix this, it’s you. The feds don’t know who they’re fucking with.”
“Damn right they don’t. Now, get your sexy ass in the bedroom, face down, ass up. I missed my lutka.”
Mateo frowned at the foreign word, snatching up his phone to Google it. The word was Serbian, and it meant ‘doll.’ He squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, his jaw aching as he remembered thinking himself that she had the face of a doll. To hear someone else call her that … to hear her raspy, sensual laugh as her footsteps carried her across the room … it drove something sharp and hot into his gut. The heat spread from its middle, exacerbating the pain.
“Yes, Daddy,” came Melody’s reply.
Mateo gripped the edge of the desk, his hands shaking as he fought for control. The walls had started to push in, and his vision grew dark at the edges as more sounds came through his earbuds. Lewd sounds. Unmistakable sounds. The jingle of a belt buckle, the dip of a mattress. The master bedroom must be right off the living area, and the door might have been left open. The wire was just sensitive enough to pick up what was happening in that bedroom. The timer on the recording swam before his eyes, the numbers hazy. He squinted to make them out. Seven minutes left.
He remained where he sat for every second of those seven minutes, his lungs filling with fire on every breath. Despite the rage boiling his blood in his veins, he could not move, could not tear himself away until the audio had ended. Even as Korenic’s grunts and groans filled his ears. Even as the slap of skin on skin echoed through him, each impact like a physical blow. Even as he held his breath and listened for Melody, for the now-familiar sounds of her pleasure. She was different with Korenic. Dirtier. More talkative. Like a porn star, or …
