KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) (107 page)

“All right, you kinky kids.” Stuart came back out to the seating area. “The pilot says we are about a half an hour out from landing and you need to buckle up.” He collected all of the glasses and food wrappers and stored them back on his cart before wheeling it back to the attendants’ area.

Laura ran her hands through her disheveled hair, trying in vain to smooth the sex out of it. She gave up. She didn’t need a mirror to tell there was no saving her look without a shower and just tied the snarled waves into a messy topknot.

Mason buttoned the last button on his shirt and looked over at Laura. “Here, let me help you.” He reached out and with his thumb and swiped a smear of lipstick from the edge of her lip.

Laura blushed under the tender touch. She wasn’t sure why since she had spent the last eight hours tangled up with Mason on every square inch of the plane. She smiled shyly and grasped his hand.

The pilot came over the intercom. “We will now begin our descent into Zurich. Thank you so much for flying with Newport Jets. It’s been an absolute pleasure transporting you, and have a safe trip.” His voice had a slight accent Laura couldn’t place.

Mason squeezed her hand in support before Laura had a chance to freak.

She gazed at him with the smile of a relaxed and well-sated woman. “I love you.” She squeezed his hand back three times to let him know she was okay. As the plane descended, the pair kept eye contact. Something had shifted in their relationship just then; Laura could feel it in the air around them, and for the first time since they had reunited, she was comfortable with that.

One week. A whole week had gone by, and no sign of his love. He would show up where she normally would be and there’d be no trace of her. He waited at the Starbucks near her office for nearly an hour that morning for her for nothing.

At 6:15pm he sat across the street from her apartment building just waiting for her to arrive. He stared as his watch ticked to 6:16. She should have been home from work by then.

The man stomped across the street and fell in behind a resident. He waited, feigning patience, as she punched in her code to get into the building. She politely held the door for him. “Thanks,” he grumbled and made for the stairs. He didn’t dare take the elevator.

As he climbed the four floors he imagined he had just missed her. Maybe she’d skipped coffee. He shook his head; she hadn’t been at work either. He didn’t dare ask around, didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

He poked his head into the hallway and, finding no one, exited the stairwell. With cautious optimism he strolled to her door and pressed his ear to the cold metal.

Nothing. For the seventh day in a row her apartment was silent. That was impossible! Even when spending nights with that skunk, she still came home occasionally. Something was wrong.

He slipped his key in the lock, and the tumbler wouldn’t turn. Heat crept up the man’s neck as his blood pressure climbed. He jiggled the knob and shook the key in the lock, and still he was kept out.
That bastard changed the fucking lock!
With a roar he punched the door and skulked off back down the hall to the stairwell.

He was determined to get in. An obsession had grown inside of him, refusing to be denied; being locked out only served to ramp up his need. He could not and would not let her shut him out. He was more determined than ever to show her how much he loved her and that they belonged together.

He hurried to the nearest hardware store; there had to be a way to get in.

“Hello, sir. How may I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. I broke my key in my front door. Is there anything I can do to fix it?” he replied coolly.

“Well, sure. Do you have a spare?”

The man nodded. ‘I do, but my wife has it and she’s out of town until Monday.”

“Ah, that’s a problem. Give me a moment, will you? I need to ask. I’m not sure what to do offhand.”

“Of course.”

The grizzled clerk shuffled to the back room to find some help. In the meantime the man wandered around trying to find something he may be able to pick the lock with. He only found one option, a rather cheap-looking lock pick for about ten dollars. Since that would be better than screwing with it and risking getting caught, he grabbed it and some putty and approached the counter.

“Excuse me, sir?”

The old man reemerged from the back room with another salesperson. “I think I may have a solution. Oh. You found it.”

“Yeah. I’ll give this a shot before I have to pay someone a hundred bucks to do it. I can bring the blade in to have a new key made later.”

He paid up and politely waved goodbye to the two men behind the counter. This was his only shot to get in. Instead of going back to Laura’s apartment, he turned left and headed in the direction of the nearest bar. He would come back when there wasn’t so much activity in the building.

“My ass is killing me. I’m heading back to the cabin for some hot chocolate.” Laura slipped off her skis and tossed the poles in annoyance. Her instructor could pick them up later. She was so done.

Mason had been adamant that he and Laura go skiing, despite her protests. She didn’t have an athletic bone in her entire body, and it was only by the grace of God that she’d managed to stay upright most of the time.

“Come on, Laura. Just one more go with me?” Mason plastered his most beguiling smile on to try and coerce Laura to stay out with him.

“You go ahead. I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow as it is. I’d like to avoid losing complete use of my body.” She pecked him on the cheek and trudged back to the lodge.

The last two weeks had been the most fun Laura had had in ages. It took her two days to settle in and adjust to the time change, but when she did she was off and running.

The third night there she had begged Mason to do the ghost walk tour through Zurich. It took some convincing, and the most spectacular blowjob she had ever performed, but he finally gave in and went with her. It may have been the best part of her trip so far. Definitely better than the train wreck she had just experienced skiing.

After spending their first week exploring Zurich, they’d hopped a train to Zermatt to get some outdoor time in the Alps. Laura managed to talk him out of breaking his neck on the Matterhorn, but the small mountain ranges were still on the agenda.

Laura staked out a space near the fire, plunked down in an overstuffed chair, and kicked her boots off. It felt so good to sit down after the beating her body had taken on the stupid bunny slope. She was convinced even her instructor had lost hope she wouldn’t kill herself eventually. She contemplated leaving Mason to ski on his own while she went to visit the Matterhorn Museum and do some touristy activities.

Her bones creaked as she shifted to get up. It felt like the only exploring she would be doing was in her big comfy bed. A nap sounded like the most luxurious thing on the face of the planet. With a groan, she tied her boots back on and went to find Mason.

Laura found him chatting with a couple near the ski lift. With a wave he called out, “Hey, over here!” Laura hiked over to meet him.

“Laura, this is Hans Dopfer and his new wife, Petra. I just met them at the foot of the mountain.”

“Nice to meet you both. How are you?” Laura smiled warmly and shook their hands; exchanging air kisses on the cheeks.

“Wünderbar. We are on our honeymoon and we couldn’t be happier,” Hans answered in stilted English.

“Yes, we just married three days ago,” Petra chimed in. She cuddled up to her husband as much from love as from the cold.

“That’s so exciting! Congratulations. I’m sorry I have to cut this short, but I need to get back to our hotel. I hurt my back earlier and need to lie down.” She kissed Mason on the cheek and shook hands with Hans and Petra before leaving.

“One moment, guys.” Mason held up a finger and sprinted after Laura. “What’s the matter?”

“Mason, I ache all over, and I just want to get warm and lie down,” she explained. “I’m sure they are a lovely couple, but I can barely stand. Let’s invite them to have dinner with us tomorrow night. Is that okay? I don’t want to be rude.”

Mason studied her face for any signs to the contrary, but all he noticed was how worn out and wobbly she looked. “Go on back to the hotel. I’ll follow you shortly.” Mason kissed her goodbye and turned back towards the Dopfers.

Laura got back to their suite at Mont Cervin Palace and collapsed in a heap on the black and gold plaid sectional. She really hadn’t planned on moving, but was coaxed back to life by the thought of the room service menu and the extra-long soaker tub in the bathroom.

Moving with all the grace and speed of a three-toed sloth, Laura made her way to standing, and eventually to the bedroom to ditch her ski gear. She pulled on her Red Sox sweats, a white V-neck tee, and piled her damp hair on top of her head. Just removing the weight of the ski clothes relaxed and revived her.

She grabbed her phone and dialed guest services. “Guten nachmittag. Portier.”

“Hello. I’d like to place an order to be delivered to my room, please.” Laura held her breath in the hopes his English was good.

“Ja? What can I get for you?”

She blew the breath out with some force, relieved she didn’t have to attempt to use her subpar German from the sixth grade. “Could I please get an order of the butternut squash soup with goat cheese and the venison dinner, please? I’m in the Alpine Matterhorn suite.”

“Ah, Mrs. Decker. That is not a problem. Can I get you anything else?”

Laura caught the concierge’s mistake and paused, debating whether to correct him or not. She decided to let it go. They weren’t married, but it really didn’t matter for a dinner order. “Is there a pharmacy I can maybe get a bag of Epsom salts from or some kind of bath oil? I hurt myself skiing.”

The concierge chuckled. “Of course. I actually think I can get you something from the spa. Perhaps you’ll consider one of our world famous massages if the soreness becomes too much?”

Oh, he was good. “Perhaps, but for now I want to be as still as possible and just relax.”

“Of course, Mrs. Decker. I’ll put your order in and have it sent up to you right away.”

“I appreciate that. And if you can send the salts as soon as possible, that would be the biggest help.”

“Ja. Of course. We will have that to you soon. Auf wiederhören.”

“Thanks.” Laura hung up and went to hunker down on the couch to order a movie, when a text alert caught her attention. It was from her elderly neighbor, Maggie.

I saw a man lurking around your door twice this week. The first time I thought he may have had the wrong apartment, but when I saw him again I figured I should let you know.

Laura’s hands grew sweaty. Clearly, her leaving the country wasn’t deterrent enough. Her hands shook as she replied.

If you see him again, call the police.

She switched to a text conversation with Mason.

He’s back. A neighbor just alerted me to some guy checking out my apartment. Come back please, I’m freaking out.

She tapped her phone against her hand. She really didn’t want to cut her vacation off early, but she saw no choice. Her rational, adult mind told her to get home and deal with the situation…immediately. Her phone pinged again.

I’m on my way.

She knew the trek from the slope to the hotel was maybe fifteen minutes, but the ten seconds since she’d received the text already felt too long. She wanted to crawl out of her skin. The feeling of helplessness and complete and total uselessness was overwhelming. She began to pace the floor, all soreness in her body forgotten.

Laura yelped as someone knocked at the room door. “Who is it?” she called, her voice shaking and cracking.

“Room service, gnä Frau. I have your salts.”

Laura wiped her hands on her pants and opened the door. “Thank you so much. And so fast!” She tipped him a few francs and shut the door. She blindly rubbed at a bruise forming above her kneecap. Considering there was nothing she could do at the moment, maybe she would go soak the aches away. She ambled to the bathroom to run the hot water.

***

Mason hurried back across the snow, dialing the NYPD at the same time. He may not be able to rearrange yet another flight with this short notice, so he needed to get someone alerted to the stalker problem immediately

“Precinct,” a curt male voice answered.

“Hello, my name is Mason Decker. I just received word that someone was lurking around my apartment. I’m out of the country and need to have it looked in on.”

The voice on the other end of the phone sighed. “Was there a break-in?”

“Not that I’m aware of as yet. I just had a neighbor let me know she saw someone at my apartment door twice this week.”

“All right, guy. I’ll put this through to the right department. If I get word of anything I’ll be in touch.” The officer took down all of Mason’s contact information and abruptly hung up. When Mason reached the lobby he looked up a personal security service. Something told him the cops weren’t going to be much help unless the apartment was actually broken into.

***

Laura rested her head against the back of the tub and closed her eyes. A knot of tension had begun to tighten at the base of her neck and one eye had started to throb. The stress she had all but forgotten about had returned with a vengeance.

“Laura?” Mason’s voice echoed through the suite.

“I’m in the tub!” she answered back.

Mason entered the room and sat on the toilet lid. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“There isn’t much to tell. I just got off the phone with Joan, and she didn’t have more to add than what she told me in the text message.” Laura shrugged. “I asked her if she saw what he looked like, and she didn’t. She saw him from behind and only said she saw it was a man with dark hair. I guess he had on a thick jacket and heavy pants, so she couldn’t make out his build or if he had any tattoos or markings.”

Mason nodded in silence. He waited to see if she had any more to add.

“I have no idea who this guys is. I have contact with any number of dark-haired men on any given day. It could be a guy I’ve interviewed, worked with, or even some random guy I’ve ordered food or coffee from. This is making me crazy.” Laura slipped further into the water so her chin dipped below the surface.

“We need to end this. I called a security service, and the police on my way up here. What do you want to do? We can finish out our trip or head back and deal with this.”

Laura knew what the answer should be, but she didn’t think going back to New York yet was the best option. Her admirer had been too close for too long. At least in Europe he couldn’t follow her. “Let’s stay. I think it may be safer to not be within this guy’s vicinity. He can’t find me here.”

Mason nodded in agreement. “Good. I’ll add my assistant and partner to the list of people to drop in on your place. Call your other neighbors and let them know what’s going on.” Mason paused and furrowed his brow. “You didn’t happen to post anything on social media about this? Facebook, Twitter, or anything?”

Laura’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates. “I posted a couple of photos to Instagram. Hand me my phone. I need to take them down!” With lightning speed, Laura logged in and cleared the three pictures and their tags from her account. As long as nobody shared them, they should be gone.

Another knock came at the hotel door. “Room service!” a muffled voice called. Mason waved at Laura to relax and went to fetch her food.

Her stomach knotted. As hungry as she had been, her appetite had soured right along with her mood. “Can you just put that in the fridge, Mase?” she called out. Her legs became restless and her skin crawled. She couldn’t sit still anymore, so she drained the tub and climbed out.

As she slipped on the fluffy, white hotel robe, she sent out a plea to the universe that she could stay and find some enjoyment with her boyfriend. Christmas was in a few days, and she really didn’t want this black cloud to ruin it.