Denial (Careless Whispers #1)(32)

“Not yet,” Kayden answers. “Gallo believes you were mugged and your identification stolen. Let him run your prints, figure out who you are, and then I’ll have to take you to the passport office to have identification issued.”

“I have amnesia,” I point out. “Won’t he want me to contact my family?” And the word family punches me in the chest, making me wonder about my real one.

“You have no family,” Matteo says, as if reading my mind. “I made sure of it. We don’t need anyone looking for your relatives to confirm who you are or aren’t and finding out they’re fake.”

“I understand the premise of your strategy,” I say, “but that leaves me alone in a strange country and I can tell you right now, Gallo will use that as an excuse to stick around. He wants dirt on Kayden, and he’ll use me to get it.”

Kayden responds unfazed. “I’ll make it clear to Gallo you’re with me. End of subject, and he can kiss my ass.”

I don’t have time to process how I feel about the nonnegotiable tone of his statement before Matteo announces, “Picture time,” and starts snapping pictures on a camera he has produced from who knows where.

Glowering at him, I hold up a hand. “Can you at least warn me or something?”

“I did,” he says, glancing at his watch and back at me. “And I’ll make the shots I just took work. The passport system is about to do its weekly security update in an hour that, ironically, allows an easy breach. Within an hour you’ll be Rae Eleana Ward, and no one will be able to say different.”

A knot forms in my throat. “I have a love/hate reaction to that news.”

“Make it all about love, sweetheart,” Kayden encourages, “because no one is going to look for Rae Eleana Ward. And we’ve made sure the hospital and police report have different dates and don’t include my name. Once we’re done, you can hide in plain sight, and no one will connect the Jane Doe that was taken to the hospital to you. We’re completely disconnecting you from that identity.”

“What about the hospital staff?”

Kayden dismisses my concern. “You were registered under an alias. We’re covered.”

My lips press together. “I’m still worried. What about the men who followed me? Won’t they keep asking around?”

“I paid a security officer to let me know if anyone is asking around at the hospital,” Kayden replies, apparently having an answer to everything.

“Those men that were following me will know what I look like,” I argue.

“They’re dead,” Kayden announces, not bothering with a preamble.

Stunned, I blanch. “What? How? When?”

“The details don’t matter,” he states, his words as cold as ice. “They would have killed you if they got the chance.”

I give him an incredulous look. “They were human beings that probably died because of me.”

“That would infer Niccolo is a human being,” he replies, “and I assure you, he is not. Moving on. Your passport will have a picture. We’re going to hack in and replace it as soon as it goes live.”

“That includes the police report as well,” Matteo interjects. “I’ve set up a notification ping. I’ll know the minute anything changes on the police report. Basically, then you’ll be a ghost.”

Only there is no “then” about it. I was already a ghost before this, wiped from existence, with no connection to a past I fear I’ll never remember. No one who cares about me will ever be able to find me, and if they did, they might end up as dead as I fear I will be soon.





nine



My eyes meet Kayden’s and his gaze narrows, telling me he’s read my reaction to the word ghost even before he says, “This is a good thing. You know that, right?”

I am suddenly angry at him, at me, at everything. “Like those men being dead?”

He doesn’t react to my attack, his expression hard, his eyes sharp but unreadable. “Yes,” he says tightly. “Like those men being dead.”

I open my mouth to ask if he killed them, but a flickering memory of me on my knees, staring at that gun, rushes through my mind and shuts me up. Suddenly needing out of this tiny space, I scoot off the bar stool, facing Matteo and in profile to Kayden, my hands flattening on my hips to hide the way they stupidly shake. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s one off the living room,” Matteo offers.

“Thanks,” I murmur, already moving to make my escape, but Kayden isn’t about to allow it.

He shackles my arm, rotating me to face him, his touch a branding I both welcome and fear. Proof I need space to get my head on straight. “I didn’t do this to you,” he says, proving he’s read my anger, and the blame I didn’t even realize I was placing until this moment.

“That’s not the answer I want,” I say, afraid he’s a killer. Afraid I am, too.

“You didn’t ask a question.”

“You know the question without me asking it.”

“Did I kill those men?” he asks.

“Yes. Did you kill those men?”

“They attacked Adriel when he tried to leave the scene of your attack, and he made sure he was the last man standing. So no. I didn’t kill them, but I’m also not sorry they’re dead. They would have killed any of us in a heartbeat.”