Good Intentions - Adrian Hell #6 (Adrian Hell Series) (11 page)

I nod slowly as I stare blankly at the floor again, absorbing everything she’s saying, and trying my best to process what it means. I’ve never looked at myself that way. No one’s ever said to me I’m a natural protector. I wonder if she’d think that if she knew what I really did for a living? I guess she has a point, but that still doesn’t change the fact my actions were directly responsible for a lot of people I cared about dying, including the woman I loved. What right do I have to move on from that? I
should
suffer the guilt I’m feeling.

I glance out the window before looking at her. “Okay. Thank you, Kaitlyn. As always, I appreciate your time and insight, and it does help me. Really.”

She smiles professionally. “You’re an intriguing man, Mr. Foley, and while I think there’s still a way to go, I’m glad you’re feeling the benefit from our sessions.”

I stand and straighten my T-shirt. “I am, definitely. Are you free tomorrow?”

She flicks through her notepad. “Yes… how does three o’clock sound?”

I nod. “Perfect.”

We both stand, shake hands, and I leave her office. I walk down the three flights of stairs, press a button to release the magnetic lock on the main entrance, and get into my car, parked in the lot outside. I start the engine, put on a pair of sunglasses, and stare ahead for a moment, lost in idle thought. I always feel drained after my sessions with Kaitlyn. It’s difficult having to think about all that shit for a solid hour.

I need a drink.

9

16:37
AST

I’m traveling along the E10, heading toward the coast. I exit right and merge onto the road that takes me over the marina to Al Reem Island. The traffic isn’t as heavy as in the main city. There are a handful of districts, each with their own micro-communities and points of interest. Lots of money was invested in developing this place over the last couple of years, and so far it’s been thriving quite nicely. Some of the houses over here dwarf mine. That’s not to say my place is small or anything, but there are definitely degrees of wealth, shall we say. Plus, I’m trying to stay reasonably discreet.

Because of the climate, natural vegetation and greenery is practically nonexistent, but lots of artificial trees, grass, and shrubbery have been planted all around here. As a result, the place looks a little like Las Vegas, but it’s nice.

I drive down the main street for a half-mile or so, and take a left. The road takes me away from the center and out into one of the residential areas. After another quarter-mile, I turn left again and stop in front of the gates leading into the exclusive community I now call home. There’s no security as such, except for a network of camera feeds that link directly to the local police department. Plus, the wide, wrought-iron gate that blocks the street can only be opened remotely... and only the residents have a remote. I aim mine at the sensor, which is a small black box fixed to the left pillar next to the gate. The fob in my hand beeps, and there’s a whirring as the mechanisms kick in and the gate begins to slide open.

I drive through, and it closes automatically behind me. The street is a long cul-de-sac, separated down the middle by a strip of grass roughly three feet wide, which has tall, thin trees planted at even intervals all the way along. There aren’t that many properties within the community, but each one is enormous—set back from the road behind a big driveway and front lawn.

My place is the third one along on the left. It’s a single-story house made from brilliant white brick, with a decorative pillar standing either side of the front door. Inside is a large reception area that leads straight through to the kitchen. The hallway stretches away in both directions. Left takes you to the first of two lounge rooms at the front of the house, as well as another room at the back that families would probably use as a dining room. I’ve not bothered furnishing it—some free weights are stored along the left wall, with a heavy punch bag hanging from the ceiling in the middle. To the right is a second lounge room—which, again, I’ve not bothered too much with—and my bedroom, which has an en suite bathroom and shower.

I ease my Aston Martin onto the drive, kill the engine, and climb out over the side. Mostly because I can, and it’s fun. I walk toward the front door, reaching for my keys, but stop when I near it.

It’s open.

What the hell?

I look over my shoulder, glancing up and down the street. There’s no sign of anyone. No movement. No unfamiliar cars.

Instinctively, I move my hand to my lower back and grab the Beretta I have holstered there. I’ve moved away from carrying two around with me all the time. I’ve even refrained from personalizing this one. It’s just a boring, stock 92FS.

I quietly work the slide, chambering a round, and flick the safety off. I cautiously step forward and lean gently against the wall on the left. I place my hand on the door and hold my gun low by my side. I take a deep, quiet breath and slowly push it open, just wide enough for me to sidestep inside.

Pausing in the doorway, I flash a glance along the hallway—first left, then right.

Nothing.

I continue slowly, just a few steps into the reception area. Only now do I bring my gun up, ready to fire if necessary. You should always lead with your head, not your hands. You only need a second to see if anyone’s there. Whereas, if you hold your gun out in front as you walk in, anyone who
is
there will see your weapon before they see you, which means they know you’re armed and can prepare for you before you even know they’re there.

I don’t close the door behind me, as I want to keep any noise to a minimum. I tread carefully, silently, across the reception area and head left. There are two doors leading into the lounge that slide apart. They’re standing slightly separated. I ease the left hand door back, just enough to give me a view of the room.

Empty.

I continue down the hall, reaching the dining room-slash-makeshift gym. The door is wide open. I press my back against it, both hands on my gun. I quickly peer around it. The split-second glance is all I need to see this room is empty, too.

I turn back around and walk down the hallway, past the front door, and on toward the second lounge area. The doors are the same as before. I slide them gently back and look inside, but there’s no one there.

Whoever this is better not be on my goddamn bed!

I turn around and—

“Jesus Christ!”

Lily is standing right in front of me, smiling, and eating an apple.

I shake my head. “What the hell? Are you fucking crazy? I could’ve shot you!”

She smiles. “Nah… you’re too good to make a silly mistake like that, aren’t you?”

I breathe out heavily and relax. I flick the safety catch on and tuck my gun back into its holster behind me. I shake my head again. “Come on.”

I turn and head toward the kitchen, diverting only to shut the front door on my way past. I walk inside and open the refrigerator, which is one of those huge, two-door things with an ice dispenser built into the front. I take out two beers, pop the tops, and hand one to Lily, who’s standing next to me. She takes it with a nod, places her half-eaten apple on the side, and takes a grateful gulp.

Now the shock’s worn off, I finally take notice of her outfit.

Damn…

She’s wearing a thin, yellow cropped top, which is stretching over her obvious, impressive chest. It’s actually difficult not to stare… Her exposed midriff is toned with a visible six-pack, and her navel is pierced with a small vertical bar topped by a bejeweled butterfly. She’s also wearing very tight white jeans and black heeled boots.

Heels…?

I nod at her feet. “How the hell did you sneak up on me wearing
them
?”

She shrugs. “Good question… you should really think about that, shouldn’t you? I could’ve been anyone.”

She flicks her eyebrows, smiles playfully, takes another sip of her beer, and walks across to the counter in the middle of the room. She sits on one of the stools and continues drinking. She doesn’t say anything… she just stares at the microwave in front of her.

I move over to join her, relishing the sensation of the cold bottle in my hand. “So… what are you doing here, Lily? Not that it isn’t nice to see you or anything, but… it’s a little out of the blue.”

She doesn’t look up. “I was bored. Thought I’d say Hey.”

I smile. “You could’ve just called… why break into my house?”

She looks at me and shrugs. “Like I said, I was bored.”

There’s clearly more to it than that, but I’ll play along, let her tell me in her own time.

I sigh. “Okay… So, how’ve you been?”

She stands, takes a breath, and has a deep swig of her drink, emptying the bottle. She places it heavily on the counter and turns to face me. In her heels, she’s not that much shorter than me—her eyes are level with my chin. “What do you do for fun around here? Besides sweat…”

I laugh. “Yeah, it can get a little warm… Fun? What do you want to do? We have pretty much everything here.”

“I want to drink. And dance.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Okay… a club it is. Let me grab a quick shower and change.” I gesture to the refrigerator behind me with my thumb. “Help yourself to a beer.”

I head out and left, toward my bedroom. I hear her behind me…

I look over my shoulder. “You alright?”

She’s smiling. “Yeah…”

I nod slowly. “Okay then. I’m… gonna go shower now…”

She’s still following me. This is weird!

I walk inside my bedroom and she stops just outside, still smiling. I frown at her and close the door behind me. I pause for a moment, and then re-open it. She’s still there. Still smiling. I shake my head, feeling confused, and shut it again. I lock it this time.

I walk into my bathroom and turn the shower on, peel my T-shirt off, throw it on the floor, and stare at my reflection in the mirror over the sink.

“What the hell is going on?”

21:23
AST

The music—if you can call it that—is loud. The bass is thumping to the point where my chest is vibrating. It’s still early, but this place is already busy. It’s one of the more popular nightclubs in the city. I’ve been here a few times on my own. Not because I like partying, and
definitely
not because of the music… but because it’s easy to have a drink and turn invisible in a place like this.

The black floor tiles have spotlights in them, and alternating colors flash in sync with whatever song the DJ is playing. The house lights are turned way down, but the tables and the bar are illuminated by pulsing neon, providing more than enough visibility.

Lily and I are sitting next to each other at a small, round table in a booth against the back wall, looking out at the large dancefloor, crammed with bodies. The surface is glowing pink. I have a half-empty beer in front of me. Lily opted for a cocktail that looks like a fruit salad with a firework sticking out of it.

We’ve not said much to each other since we arrived. I don’t know whether that’s because it’s hard to hear each other speak, or simply because she doesn’t feel like talking. I’m happy either way. I’m comfortable sitting in silence.

I can’t figure her out though. She’s just sitting here, moving her head slightly to the music and looking around absently at the people dancing, drinking, and having fun. When we first met, she was pretty frosty with me. Then she seemed to warm to me a little. Then she was all business. Then she walked away and I haven’t heard from her in almost a month. Then she breaks into my house because she’s bored and felt like saying Hello…

I don’t know if it’s just her, or women in general, that I don’t understand.

I nudge her arm with mine to get her attention. She looks at me and I smile. “Is everything alright?”

She nods. “Great.”

She says it with a smile, but even I can tell there’s something on her mind.

“Be straight with me, Lily. What’s going on? Why are you really here?”

She shrugs. “Can’t I just call in on a friend when I feel like it?”

“Yeah, that would be perfectly fine. But I didn’t think we knew each other well enough to be friends… And you didn’t call in, you
broke
in—something you still haven’t properly explained or apologized for…”

She finishes her drink and sighs heavily. She goes to speak, but stops herself. After a moment, she rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine. I was working a contract The Order gave me, and it didn’t quite go as planned. I needed to lay low for a while…”

I frown. “What happened?”

“I missed my target. I’ve been trying to stay under the radar while I tracked him down again. I can’t fail—Horizon will have my head.”

“And you haven’t been able to find him?”

She shakes her head. “Oh no, I’ve found him…”

“So… what’s the problem?”

She looks at the table for a moment, and then at me. The regret and apology in her eyes is obvious. She doesn’t need to say anything else.

I sigh. “Your target’s here, isn’t he…? You didn’t call in to see me at all. You need my help.”

She holds up a hand defensively. “Hey, I don’t
need
your help, okay? I just… thought you might want to tag along or something.”

I shake my head and smile. “Uh-huh…”

“Oh, whatever. I’m getting another drink. You want one?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer, thanks.”

She shuffles out of the seat and walks across the dancefloor toward the bar. I have to confess I can’t help but watch her go. Her hips are like poetry in motion, swaying with a natural flick to the side with each step. She really is—

“Excuse me?”

Distracted, I look to my right and see two women standing there, smiling at me. Both are gorgeous. They’re not in Lily’s league, but they’re undeniably attractive all the same. They could be twins—they both have long blonde hair, and are both wearing very tight black dresses that leave little to the imagination. They’re holding small handbags and standing very close together.