Page 21 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ATTIKUS

It had been a mistake to kiss her. I had assumed if I got the urge out of my system, everything would be fine. She wouldn’t fester in my mind, making me crave. But I was wrong. I had underestimated this attraction between us. With every touch, she became the fuel that enticed the fire within me.

I had to get out of her apartment before I did something regretful.

But if I read her reaction correctly, she was struggling with the same issue. Or was that my imagination—my hope?

Maybe she was unsettled because of what I’d told her about The Trogyn. Enzo Stevens was a minor player within the crime organization. His face had appeared in several of my friends’ investigations.

I shouldn’t have scared her, but she needed to know the surrounding danger. She shouldn’t be running around playing detective.

I told her I’d help resolve Emmanuel’s threat. Why didn’t she believe me?

Today, I’d stepped over that line where I couldn’t go back. One taste ignited this desire in me that needed to be tamed.

I pushed all thoughts aside as I parked on a side street, got out, and walked into the lobby of Emmanuel’s luxury apartment.

The host with the curly hair smiled at me. “Can I help you?”

“Just waiting for my friend, Emmanuel.” I jerked a hand to the gym behind her. I could see him on the treadmill.

“Oh, he’s going to be in there for a while.”

“I’m Ricky, his cousin, visiting from California. I want to surprise him. Do you mind if I go upstairs and wait in the lounge area?”

His files showed he had a cousin living in Los Angeles, and I’d already looked at the blueprint of this building.

“Sure. I won’t say anything.” She smiled.

“Thank you.”

I took the elevator up to the fifth floor and sat in a comfortable brown chair in the lounge area facing his room.

Two people walked past me but were on their phones.

While I waited, I had my assistant, Beth, schedule a private shopping at the Happily Ever After Boutique and a photo shoot in Maui.

I browsed through the boutique and sent Vanessa a link.

Attikus: Pick a dress from this shop.

Vanessa: I can’t afford this. (wide-eye emoji)

Attikus: I’m paying.

Vanessa: You want to spend this much money on a fake wedding?

Attikus: It needs to look real. I splurge on thingsthat matter.

Vanessa: In that case, I’ll browse.

I imagined her looking through the website, wondering if she’d choose the one I’d mentally picked out.

Vanessa: Can I get shoes and accessories?

Attikus: Yes. Anything.

Vanessa: What’s your budget?

Attikus: None.

Vanessa: Are you crazy?

Attikus: You know the answer.

Vanessa: I thought you had to work. Why are you looking at wedding dresses?

Attikus: I’m good at multitasking.

Vanessa: (Eye-roll emoji)

An idea popped into my head, provoking me.

Attikus: You’re a fabulous kisser.

The three dots moved and stopped. A few seconds later, they moved again. She was probably struggling for a reply. Would she tell the truth or lie? Or would she offer something between a truth and a lie?

Vanessa: I’m sure many women would say that about you too.

Since I was getting married to her for the next six months, I’d make it fun for me.

Attikus: I’m only interested in what you think.

A moment of silence.

Vanessa: You’re a dangerous kisser.

Attikus: What does that mean?

Vanessa: You’ll find out later.

Why was she being cryptic?

Attikus: Should I leave out the terms for no kissing on the contract?

Vanessa: No. Add it.

Attikus: But you like kissing me.

Vanessa: Exactly. Too dangerous.

There was the truth.

Vanessa: I mean. It’s not good for us. Will complicate things.

Too late, darling. You can’t take back what I wanted to hear.

Attikus: Okay. Will add to the contract.

At that moment, the elevator door opened, and Emmanuel stepped out. Dark hair, about six feet tall, athletic build. He looked at me, and our eyes locked. I rose from my chair, grabbed my cane, and walked over.

He swallowed, knowing exactly who I was. “What are you doing here?”

“Let’s have a man-to-man chat. Not here.” I jerked my head toward his apartment number 505.

He hesitated a moment.

“Unless you want your neighbors hearing what I have to say. Do you think they want to know you’ve been blackmailing your ex-girlfriend?”

His jaw tensed as he turned and opened the door. I stepped inside and locked it. He walked down the wooden-floor hallway and leaned against the marble kitchen counter.

Crossing his arms, he asked. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you harassing Nessa Lambert?”

“What did you say?” he asked, placing a hand on his head.

I studied his face, and there was no hint of him being crass or sarcastic.

“Why are you blackmailing Nessa?” I asked.

“I stopped a while ago.” Looking uncomfortable, he rounded the counter and opened the refrigerator. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

The offer surprised me. This courteous gesture didn’t match the jerk I’d witnessed in that café.

“Were you at Loretta’s Café the day of her art gallery’s opening?”

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows. “I don’t remember.”

As he stepped closer, downing the glass of water, I noticed marks on his arms. Was he doing drugs? Was that the reason for his erratic behavior?

“Why do you need Nessa’s money?”

He blinked and stared at the empty glass as though trying to find an answer that should have been easy. He placed the empty glass down on the counter and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

His phone rang, and he reached into the pocket of his athletic pants, pulling it out. He glanced at the screen, grunted, and slid it onto the counter, ignoring it. The buzz signified a new voicemail.

“Is Nessa okay?”

“What do you think?” I glared at him. “She’s being blackmailed by her ex. And someone sent a severed finger to her gallery’s grand opening.”

“I didn’t do that.” His lips tightened.

“But you know who did?”

I pushed myself off the counter and wandered into his living room. Nothing fancy. A large TV, a video game console with stacks of sports and health magazines. No family pictures displayed on the walls or on the table. It looked like he didn’t want people to know about his life.

I pulled out my phone and moved toward him, showing him a picture of his sister from her social media account.

His jaw tensed, and he tossed me an irritated look. “Leave her alone.”

“Then leave Nessa alone.” I took my phone back. “You’re protecting your sister, and I’m protecting my fiancée.”

His cell phone rang again, but he ignored it. I glanced at the screen, and my heart jumped at the image. I grabbed the phone, clicked answer, and listened.

“Yo, where are you? Enzo says you’re not picking up his calls. Do you have the money? If you’re keeping it from me, you’re dead, you hear me? Hello?”

I ended the call.

“What are you doing?” Emmanuel plucked his phone from my hand.

“How do you know Milton Kalkounis?”

Emmanuel turned his phone off, shoved it into the charging station, and flicked me an annoyed look.

When he didn’t reply, I said, “He’s my enemy too. Maybe we can work together.”

Emmanuel blew out a sigh, walked over to the couch, dropped down, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“That’s not his name. It’s Jean-Claude Dumas.”

“Jean-Claude, my ass.” I sat across from him. “He went to my high school. I recognize the asshole. It’s Milton Kalkounis.” The person on the phone didn’t sound French. He sounded like the asshole I knew.

Emmanuel furrowed his eyebrows.

Milton’s family hung out with the Lindor family, so it was natural for him to follow Ashton around. Why did he change his name? Did that mean Ashton had a new identity too? What kind of crime did Milton commit that required a name change?

“What do you know about him?” I asked.

Emmanuel leaned back on the couch. “He was my trainer when I started the health kick. Gave me a shot he claimed was a vitamin booster in liquid form.” He rubbed the bruised spot on his arm. “I became a different person after that. Easily agitated, violent, sporadic memory.”

“Was that when you started blackmailing Nessa?”

He nodded. “When he found out her art sold for a lot of money, he told me to blackmail her.” He leaned forward. “I don’t know how he uncovered information about her past. She never mentioned it to me.”

“Why would she? You dated briefly.” I should beat the pulp out of him for putting Vanessa through the fear and anxiety. But he was also a victim, and something told me that Milton could be responsible for more crimes. “Did you send her the blackmail threat earlier today?”

“No.” His eyes widened. “I’ve been trying to detox, flush out whatever messed up my body.”

“You need to stop using that phone. Milton probably hacked it. Nessa received a threat from your number.”

He cursed. “I don’t know what to do. I need to get away from them.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“At an exclusive club. He’s a popular trainer for Ultra Health and Fitness. He has celebrity clients, so when he took me on, I was ecstatic.”

I planned on researching Milton when I got a moment. He hadn’t been a priority compared to the other members of the high school bully club, but now he’d made himself important.

“He served in the US Army for a few years,” Emmanuel said. “That’s what he told me.”

My mind spun with a plan. “If you’re okay with it, my friend is a doctor, and he can examine your blood work. Your trainer gave you something that messed up your body.”

I’d give Forrest a call when I left to brief him about Emmanuel’s condition. I needed someone I could trust. Perhaps Forrest could examine him. What kind of injection had Milton given to Emmanuel that altered his character?

The way Milton threatened Emmanuel over the phone didn’t sound like any trainer I’d encountered.

Looking nervous, Emmanuel said, “Okay.”

“When he calls again, try to act as normal as possible. Make him believe you’re still under their control. Play along with their game.” I rose from my seat. “If you do this right, you’ll survive and keep your sister out of this mess.”

Fear splashed onto his face. “Don’t get her involved in this. “

“Then stick to the script. Pretend we never met. They’ll kill you both if they suspect you’ve been compromised. Get a burner phone and call me whenever Jean-Claude contacts you.” I gave him a phone number for one of my burner phones. “After the bloodwork, try to stay home as much as possible.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you let me know when it’s safe to contact my sister again?”

“I’ll do my best. Is Milton responsible for the severed finger?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know whose finger it is?”

“He didn’t say. I was just freaked out that he actually did it. “

“Someone must’ve told him to do it. Who’s his boss? “

“I don’t know.”

“Have you heard of The Trogyn? Has Milton or Enzo mentioned that name?”

“No, why?”

“It’s better that you don’t. After I leave, return his call. Make up an excuse for the disruption.”

As I drove home, I called the boys and briefed them about Emmanuel’s condition. Forrest agreed to examine Emmanuel and study his bloodwork.

“Do you know of an injection that can alter a person’s character or make them lose their memory?” I asked.

“You mentioned he was in the military.” Arrow was a Navy SEAL before he retired to create a wine company, which he turned into a billion-dollar enterprise.

“They have research centers where they conduct experiments with mind control serums and shit like that. But I wasn’t privy to those operations. ”

“That’s legal?” Remi asked.

“It’s the government,” Orion said. “They make anything legal to suit their agenda.”

“Who are the testing subjects?” Royce asked. His blonde hair looked almost white under his office lighting. He was Icelandic and owned travel excursions all around the world.

“Probably their own men and enemies,” Grayson said. I could see the sibling resemblance with Audri. “Or random people to test out their serum.”

“I see The Trogyn’s fingerprints all over this,” Remi sighed.

“What kind of fucking trainer threatens the client and injects him with toxic chemicals?” Grayson asked.

“The kind who deserves an injection of his own,” Royce commented.

“Once I have Emmanuel’s blood work, I’ll identify the components,”Forrest said.

“Want me to dig into the military research centers and see if Milton Kalkounis or Jean-Claude Dumas was there?” Orion asked.

I nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”

When the call ended, I arrived home and escalated the wedding plan.

Initially, I wanted to take Vanessa to Hawaii in a few weeks, but things had become more dangerous.

Was Miltontaking advantage of a woman who didn’t have the means to protect herself from despicable men like him?

I needed to solidify this marriage sooner rather than later.