This chapter is dedicated to MelisandeScott whose ONC entry Dear Citlali is an intriguing mystery about three supernaturals strangers who all grieve over a friend who brought them together after her death. Strong voices, an intriguing plot, and lot of feels that will make you turn the pages. Go and check it out.
Drogheda, Ireland
February 2024
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Leaving the hotel, I take a shaky breath.
This was so close.
The asshole bodyguard could've shot me and asked questions later. At least I got away.
I hunker down and fight the oncoming tears.
Get a grip on yourself.
I got away unscathed and that's all that matters.
Wrapping my arms around my chest, I rock back and forth to calm down.
My mind strays to the warehouse in Hong Kong.
The last time I faced death.
The stench of sweat and blood.
Of urine.
The fear in Sean's eyes.
I press my nails into my temples to kill the images.
None of this is helping.
Forcing my body back into the vertical, I walk swiftly through the dark. Bastian's hotel is at the end of the shopping center and the storefronts stare at me like vicious black eyes ready to jump at me from the shadows. The river flowing toward the harbor on the other side of me is just as obscure, the surface rippled by little waves. The breeze is cold, making my teeth chatter, but at least it has stopped raining. I cuddle into my coat and pull the hat down over my ears as I cross the pedestrian bridge that takes me into the middle of town. Dashing across the road at a red traffic light, I only need to make one left turn to get to my car. Adrenaline shakes my body and it takes forever to settle down enough to sort through the jumble of thoughts.
What now?
I should check in with Conor.
Opening the glove compartment, I toss the servicing booklet into the footwell to get to the hidden burner phone. Conor picks up before it rings twice.
"Hey, it's Chelsea. No one is suspecting a damn thing, so the job is a go. Just as we thought, they don't actually know where Marcel is, but the lead they have on him seems solid and might pan out."
"And they need you to pursue it?"
"Yes."
I don't go into details about having to meet with Marcel's brother Jackson, and Conor doesn't ask. We've waited too long to not take a risk and pass on the one chance to find my husband.
"You be careful, okay?"
"Always. Plus I have a name for you. Bastian Artino. He doesn't have the tattoo, so I don't think he's a Crimson Disciple."
"How do you know he doesn't have the tattoo?"
"What do you think?" I roll my eyes and he probably does the same.
I did what I had to do.
"Okay, let me see if I can find him in the database." For a moment, only clacks from him working a keyboard drift through the line. He takes a sharp breath. "Fuck, Chelsea, not only is he a Disciple, but he's the one being groomed to eventually take over from Icarus."
Geez, I wasn't expecting that.
"What else do you have on him?"
"He has a US mam and a Cypriot dad, born and raised in Brooklyn, and he graduated with an international relations degree and a Juris Doctor from Columbia."
So our boy is smart with a fancy education to give him some clout on the international market. Good for him.
"His official job title is Cyprus's alternate representative to the UN, whatever that means, but it likely gives him diplomatic immunity. Married an Olivia Artino in 2013, and they have a son together, Vitaly, age twelve. Wife appears to be deceased."
"How did she die?"
More clacks fill the silence. "It looks like she died in the same car bomb explosion as Konstantin Pappas. That's when Bastian also became the heir to the Disciples' empire. He's Icarus's nephew, and his kid has been living in Nicosia with Icarus ever since the mam died."
I frown. "Why would Icarus take guardianship of a child?"
"Maybe he's already looking at the next generation after Bastian."
Sure, expose kids from a young age to violence and ruthlessness.
That will screw them up good and turn them into perfect criminals.
"Okay, anything else?"
Conor pauses and I can practically see him scratching his beard on the other end of the line. "Come to think of it, getting close to Bastian might get you to the end goal faster. If you were his new squeeze, he might take you home to meet his son and uncle. A rare opportunity, and if the Marcel lead works out, you could kill two birds with one stone."
Which would finally allow me to move on. "By the way, I haven't even asked how everyone is. Are you and the fam okay?"
"Everyone is grand. With school, video games, and all the other crazy stuff, life keeps us busy. The little ones can't wait for you to visit us again."
I smile. It has been six long years, but the ball is finally on the move. Now I have to wait to see if my patience paid off. About to wrap up the call, I jump when my regular cell buzzes in my purse on the passenger seat. "Conor, I have to go. Have another call, and it's probably Bastian."
"No worries. Keep me posted and stay safe."
I drop the burner phone into my lap and peel the buzzing cell out of my purse. Caller ID unknown, so my hunch was right. I pick up. "This is Chelsea Doherty."
Bastian's rich voice fills my ear. "Be ready in an hour. We are flying out to the States tonight."
WP total word count: 8286 (second milestone reached)
So the cat is out of the bag: Chelsea has her own agenda and is using Bastian the same way he is using her. Were you surprised by this little twist? I hope you have lots of questions at this point and you are eager to hunt for answers as the story continues. Coming up: A little detour that will give you a lot more insight into Bastian's life and background.
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