False Security (21 page)

“Is there a safe?” Rachel asked.

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t you get yourself out
of that dress and come over here with me?”

His ego oozed out with his
words, and Rachel shuddered. She put the knife back in her bag and gave herself
a rapid, silent pep talk. It was time. She pointed the gun at his head.

Terror returned to his face.
“What are you doing?”

“I have the information I came
for.”

“Wait! I lied again! It’s not in
Los Angeles!” As Rachel anticipated, the headboard moved according to his
frantic struggle against the handcuffs, but it did not touch the wall.

“Yes,” Rachel said, “it is in
Los Angeles.”

“But you can’t kill me. Someone will
find my body here in your hotel room and they’ll trace this back to you.”

“Don’t you know who owns this
hotel? Graham Wilkes.”

His eyes widened.

Don’t think, just act.

Her index finger squeezed the
trigger, releasing a bullet that entered his forehead. She lowered the barrel
of the gun and fired two more shots into his chest, as Donovan instructed her
to do. The gun had more kick than she remembered and the exiting bullets jarred
her arm. His body slacked when the bullets hit his body. Rachel forced out the
breath she was holding in a rough wheeze that scraped against her lungs.

There was no need to check his
pulse to confirm Jeff Cox was dead. Blood was spattered behind him across the
headboard rails and the wall, and more blood ran down his body onto the bed. A
small amount of blood trickled from the wound in his forehead, forming a thin
river and flowing past open, foggy eyes that stared back at her, accusing her,
damning her.

She tore her eyes away from the
sight. Even though Cox deserved death, her stomach churned at what she had
done. In the past two years, she had broken into seven homes. Now, she was a
killer. She wondered what her father would say if he was alive.

The job not yet complete, Rachel
forced herself to move. She picked up the phone again and dialed a
predetermined extension. “I need fresh bedclothes, please,” she said when a
male voice answered the phone.

Opening her bag, she removed a
pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. She left the wig on her head and
changed her clothes. Without looking at Cox, she threw the dress, heels, and
gun on top of his body. She set the hotel keys and ticket stub to the musical
down on the edge of the bed. All of it would be disposed in a manner that
wouldn’t be traced to her or anyone else involved, but that was left for others
to do.

At the sound of the door
opening, she picked up her bag and moved into the front room. Two men under
Wilkes’s employ stood waiting, both dressed in all black. One of the men pulled
on latex gloves and the other walked toward her.

Pointing to the bedroom, she
said, “He’s in there.” She handed a small key to the man closest to her.
“Here’s the key for the cuffs. The jewelry is at his condo in Los Angeles,
under his bed. Tell Wilkes to contact King.” Fighting another wave of nausea,
she left to meet Paul.

Silence filled
the two hour drive back to the estate. Images of lifeless eyes and bullet holes
ran through Rachel’s mind. The longer she sat in the car with Paul, the more she
thought about what she did. She couldn’t deny Cox was a distasteful person, but
disposing of even a bad person who did horrible things still made her a much
worse person.

With every passing mile, Rachel
wished she could turn around and run. She knew she would have Donovan’s
approval of her work, and as much as she coveted that from him, she wanted to
receive it under different circumstances.

Now that she had jumped from
cracking safes to removing a target, she wondered how many more times Donovan
would ask her to take someone’s life, and how many times she would be unable to
refuse him. If Donovan came to her with the request to do a similar job, she
would have no choice but to follow through.

Donovan stood in the foyer when
they returned to the estate. “How did it go?” he asked.

Rachel glanced at him. “It’s
done.” She brushed past Donovan and moved with determination down the back
hallway toward the stairs. As she walked away, she heard Paul and Donovan
conversing. She thought Donovan said her name, but she didn’t care. She wanted
to get downstairs, shower, and climb into bed. Sleep would not come easy and
once she did fall asleep, her dreams would resurrect Cox.

As she untied her tennis shoes,
Donovan came through her bedroom door. Shutting the door behind him, he asked,
“Are you okay?”

She remained seated on the bed
and didn’t look up. “I’m fine.” She tugged off her shoes and placed them on the
floor.

Donovan sat down on the bed
beside her. “Rachel, you’re not okay. Your face is pale and your hands are shaking.”

“I said I’m fine,” she said
through her clenched teeth.

He touched the ends of the wig.
“As good as the dress was, I didn’t like this thing on you,” he said. “You are
far more beautiful without it.”

Any other time, Rachel would
love to hear the words that came from his mouth, but tonight they rang hollow.
She didn’t want him to placate her to take her mind off the job, instead of
being sincere with his compliment.

Somehow she thought when she
returned to the estate she would feel elated at her success and be met with
affection from the man she pined for. Her expectations were childish at best,
and her heart broke over what he made her do and that he was still
unattainable.

Donovan removed the wig from her
head and laid it on the floor by her shoes. Strands of her hair tumbled down to
her shoulders with each bobby pin he extracted. “I spoke with Wilkes. His men
raided the condo and found the missing jewelry. He’s very pleased with the work
you did. So am I.”

Rachel closed her eyes and tried
to control her jagged breathing. She wished he would go away, but she also
wanted him to stay. Frustration contorted her face and no words came out as she
tried to speak, leaving her chin trembling.

“Hey,” he said, touching her
shoulder with concern.

“I killed a man tonight.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You don’t understand. He was
alive and he was breathing and he was talking and moving and now he’s dead.”
Rachel could not control the words that flowed from her panicked lips. “He’s
dead because of me.”

“I understand a lot more than
you realize,” he said. “Jeff Cox wasn’t a good man and he deserved to die.
After what he did to Jill, it was the right thing to do. What you did was
okay.”

She shook his hand away from her
shoulder. “It’s not okay! I killed him!”

“Come here,” he said with a
soothing tone. She let him pull her head down to his shoulder. “It’s okay,
Rachel. I’m proud of you for going through with it. Most people would not have
been able to do that. It’s fine if you feel some guilt, that makes you human,
but you can’t let it overcome you. You did nothing wrong.”

Her defenses broke down with
each stroke of his hand through her hair. Thoughts of Cox evaporated, replaced
by a cloud of comfort that settled around her. Her immediate feelings
frightened her and she spoke through her muffled sobs without thinking. “Please
don’t touch me. Not now.”

Donovan stiffened and moved away
from her. Standing up, he said, “You should try to get some sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep,”
she said. Rachel kept her eyes averted from his face.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be
back shortly.”

As soon as the door shut, she
cupped her face in her hands and broke down. She wiped away the tears as fast
as they flowed. It was bad enough she already fell apart in front of Donovan.
She did not want him to know how much the job affected her by seeing her
reduced to tears.

As the last of her tears dried
on her cheeks, Donovan returned to her room carrying a glass of water in one
hand, his other hand balled into a fist. He handed her the glass and opened his
fist.

Rachel pointed to the small
white pill in his hand. “What is that?” she asked.

“It’s a sedative. It will help
you sleep tonight.”

“I don’t want to take anything.
You know how much I hate pills.”

“In this case, it’s okay to make
an exception,” he said. “This will relax you into sleep, which you desperately
need right now. In the morning you will see things more clearly and feel better
about what you did.”

Rachel knew he was trying to
help her cope, but she was unsure if she would ever agree with his last
statement, no matter who she killed. She did not want to discuss the job any
further. The best way to get him off the topic was to divert his attention.
“Where did you get the sedative?”

“Paul keeps all kinds of things
around. One of the many benefits of having a doctor on staff.” Donovan turned
her hand over and placed the sedative in the center of her palm. He closed her
fingers and covered her fist with his hand. “I wouldn’t let you take anything
that wasn’t safe,” he said.

His eyes always convinced her of
things that words never could. She trusted the light in those caring, amber
eyes, her beacon of hope to pull her through anything. Those eyes now told her
he was not lying. He wouldn’t endanger her by exposing her to pharmaceuticals
that may harm her.

He also wouldn’t make her do
something that wasn’t right, Rachel reasoned. Killing Cox only made her feel
bad because she extinguished a life. Cox, however, was not a person that
deserved to continue living, especially after what he did to Jill Wilkes.

If Cox did something so horrible
to Jill, he may have done it to others in the past, as well as planned to do it
in the future. By killing him, Rachel saved countless potential victims from
enduring the same horror as Jill. That was enough for her to accept her role in
his fate. Lingering guilt was normal under the circumstances, and she would
find a way to live with it.

Rachel set the pill on her
tongue toward the back of her throat. She tipped the glass and drank just
enough to wash the pill down. She only hoped it worked fast.

He took the glass from her and
placed it on her dresser. He sat back down on the bed, his body much closer to
her than she liked. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No.”

“Would you like me to leave you
alone?”

Rachel contemplated before
answering. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.” The tension under the
silence unnerved her and her thoughts started revolving around Cox again. “Do
you ever regret—”

“Regret what?”

Rachel cut off her thought.
Donovan was so purposeful in everything he did that he had no reason to regret
his criminal lifestyle. Instead of answering his question, she changed the
subject. “Why do you do it? You have everything you could ever need. The
company, the estate. So why do all the other stuff?”

He shrugged. “The company was
what my father did. The other stuff is what I do.”

“So your father was a
businessman and you’re a spoiled rich criminal?”

Donovan stifled a laugh. “I
suppose you could say it like that. But that’s enough analyzing me. Why do you do
it?”

She did the jobs because he
asked her to, but she couldn’t tell him that. “There’s a rush, I guess.”

“Ah, the proverbial rush knowing
stolen art or jewelry worth millions of dollars is in your hands.”

Rachel looked up at him. When
she returned from a burglary, the goods were transferred to the hands of expert
fences, but she had no concept of the value of what she stole. She always
assumed it was not for her to know.

Value did not matter to her.
Donovan took good care of her, providing shelter, food, and enough of what she
needed to satisfy her basic needs with a shot of luxury. Everything they had
was costly, even their meals. Nothing on the estate was cheaply done. Everyone
who lived there would be taken care of until the day they died, including her.
It was part of the deal they made when they gave up their lives in the real
world.

Donovan also gave her protection
against the world, which could be very cruel. She fast learned this idea with
the death of her parents and with the atrocities Cox committed against Jill
Wilkes. Because of Donovan, she would never know how horrible life could be.

Although Donovan would never
suspect her of getting greedy, she still believed value of goods was the part
of the business belonging to him alone. After he brought it up, though, she
became curious at his hints of value. “Have I ever stolen something worth that
much?” she asked.

“You’d be surprised. Or maybe
you wouldn’t. You are my rising star, after all.”

Rachel frowned. He always
referred to her as the best safecracker around, or an excellent employee.
“Rising star” was another way of putting a barrier around their relationship,
one she wished she could destroy. She wanted to be so much more to him than
another employee, no matter how valuable he considered her. If she could get
his mind off her skills and onto her, maybe he would see her in the same way
she saw him.

“Are you still thinking about
Cox?” Donovan asked.

She ignored his question and
turned to look at him. “You said you understand what I’m going through. Does
that mean you’ve killed someone, too?”

Donovan’s eyes fell to the
floor. “Yes, here and there. They all needed killing. I never would have asked
you to do this if I wasn’t willing to do it myself.”

The revelation surprised Rachel,
as she never thought of Donovan as someone who had killed before. Knowing she
was not alone made her feel better about her job, and reignited her attraction
to him. Though still riddled with guilt over Cox, she enjoyed sharing something
as intimate as her guilt with him, and learning from his wisdom.

“Did you feel guilty after the
first one?” she asked.

“The first time I did a little.
It was a job for Graham, something he didn’t trust any of his people to do. I
was only a few years older than you when it happened, and it bothered me for a
little bit. After that first one, I didn’t feel much of anything. There were
reasons for each of them, so the kills were always justified. That doesn’t
leave much room for guilt.”

“Have you killed anyone since I
came to the estate?”

“Some, and I’m sure there will
be more to come,” he said. “Don’t worry, Rach. After a few days, you won’t
think about it much. Then, next time you do it, you won’t think about it at
all. It only gets easier each time. Maybe when the next one comes along, I can
go with you and we can do it together.”

Next time. Rachel didn’t want to
think he would ask her to take another life, but he clearly trusted her more
than anyone else on the estate, much like Graham trusted him. He was training
her to be like him, and she took comfort in knowing he was willing to help her
through the next job. With him by her side, it would make killing someone much
easier.

A strange calm rushed over her
mind, the sedative making its presence known far quicker than she imagined. Her
voice sounded distant as she spoke. “I have a question about the job. What was
Paul’s problem with the dress?”

“The dress.” Donovan paused.
“The dress was...revealing, and Paul didn’t like that.”

“But you said the dress was
okay.”

“It was the perfect dress for
the job. We had to ensure Cox met you in the hotel room and the dress...” He
swallowed hard and looked away from her. “Well, never mind. Paul didn’t want
you to have to wear it, that’s all. He has a hard time realizing that you’ve
grown up. Sometimes he still sees you as a child.”

Her eyes studied his face. He
was so close she thought she felt the warmth of his skin radiating onto hers.
Her heart pounded in her chest and a fever set her face on fire. The desires
she associated with his presence crept through her unchecked. “Do you still see
me as a child?” she asked.

“How could I?” Donovan brushed
his knuckles across her jaw line. “You’re an incredible, beautiful woman.” He
kissed her hesitantly, and then pulled away from her. “This is wrong, Rachel.”
He rose from the bed.

She looked down and bit her
lower lip. Her chest tightened, part from frustration, part from heartache.
After tasting him for the first time, she wanted so much more than a small
kiss. He seemed to want less.

In the corner of her eye, his
hands gestured aimlessly, as if he was unsure of what to say. She glanced at
his face and saw the conflict in it. She had never seen this side of him,
insecure and less than strong.

“This is so wrong,” he repeated.
He briefly met her eyes and put forth the best excuse he could find. “You’re
half my age. I’m sorry, Rachel,” he said, and started for the door.

Rachel shot up from the bed,
emboldened by the sedative’s grip on her. “Donovan, wait.” Her fingers twisted
in front of her waist.