Spark Page 21

  She straightened her neck. “No one can.”

  I sat dumbfounded as she made her way through the crowd to Ivanov.

  Why would she go to him?

  There was no question by the Detroit kingpin’s expression, he was upset. With the volume and commotion of the room, I strained to hear what they were saying. The uproar won. That was all right, I didn’t need to hear his words. Ivanov’s body language alone had the small hairs on my neck standing on end.

  The dealer was collecting the chips.

  Sparrow and Mason came my way. “Good job,” Sparrow said. “Let’s go downstairs and get this figured out.”

  “What about...” I looked over to Andros Ivanov still talking to Maddie.

  “We have Sparrows here,” Mason said, looking at Sparrow. “Both Ivanov and Hillman and their respective crew will be escorted off the property as soon as we are secure.”

  Our number-one job was keeping the boss, Sterling Sparrow, safe.

  I looked from my friends to Maddie and back again. “I will explain this soon—I’ve tried already—but first I have to be sure of something. My gut is telling me something isn’t right.” I looked at Mason and tipped my chin toward Sparrow. “Get him downstairs.”

  The commotion grew louder around Ivanov and his men with Maddie right in the middle.

  Sometimes it’s safest in the middle of the fire.

  Oh hell no. I couldn’t stand by any longer.

  Ivanov’s voice came into range. “I told you what would happen if you lost.”

  “Get the other spectators out of here,” I ordered, speaking to a Sparrow capo. “I want this hall cleared.”

  “No, no, you didn’t say that,” Maddie’s voice cracked. “Andros, I’m sorry. I had a great hand. You saw it. It was dealt to me. I was so sure.” With each sentence her desperation mushroomed, causing the words to come faster and faster.

  I walked closer, leaving Mason and Sparrow with other Sparrows.

  “Please...don’t do this,” she said, holding onto his arm.

  He reached for her hand and roughly pushed it away.

  I moved closer. “Don’t touch the lady.”

  Ivanov’s laughter resonated above the crowd noise. It wasn’t only his. Now Hillman and his men were circling the others.

  “Lady?” Ivanov asked. “You have the wrong woman.” He eyed Madeline. “This one’s a loser.”

  My fist came forward. Before I had time to think, it collided with his arrogant jaw.

  “No,” Madeline screamed as her hands came to her lips.

  Ivanov staggered backward as his arms went out. “Wait,” he demanded, holding back his men as they lurched forward, their eyes on me. “No, not yet.” He regained his position as he rubbed his chin.

  “Get out of my club—now. Your invitation has expired.”

  I knew the deep, commanding voice. It was Sparrow.

  Fuck. He needed to get out of here.

  “Your club? You think this club is yours?” Ivanov asked. “You probably think the city is yours too. You’re wrong. I have parts, and soon I will have it all.”

  “Get the fuck out now,” Sparrow said, his words demanding yet his tone eerily calm, “and you will live to see tomorrow.”

  “Come,” Ivanov said to the men gathered. “We’ll be back.” He nodded to Mason. “Better check on the man in the office. He was no longer useful to me.”

  What?

  Mason’s gaze met mine.

  Was he talking about Beckman?

  By the time I turned to Madeline, she was walking, her head down, following Ivanov’s and Hillman’s men as they exited the room.

  “Madeline, stay here,” I said, ignoring the way Sparrow and Mason were looking at me.

  Her head shook. “I can’t, Patrick.”

  “Man,” Mason said, reaching for my shoulder, “whatever is happening, let her go.”

  Ivanov stopped and turned to Madeline. “I told you that returning required a win.” His gaze came to me. “Keep her. Her usefulness is also done. I have the newer version.” His lips curled into a smile. “She’s something else...fresh, innocent, and even more beautiful.”

  “No, Andros. I’ll do anything,” Madeline called out as Ivanov and his men continued to leave.

  “Make sure they are escorted off the property,” Sparrow was saying.

  “Please, you promised,” she pleaded, her voice growing louder.

  “And you promised me a win.” Those were his last words.

  My attention went to Madeline as I tried to make sense of what happened, what was happening. In the few minutes since the last game she had crumpled. I went to her as she leaned forward sobbing as if she’d been hit in the stomach.

  Standing taller, she looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. “I told you I had to win.” She looked at me, Mason, and Sparrow. “Please, if you can, stop him. I have to go with him.”

  “Maddie, you don’t understand who he is,” I said.

  She nodded. “I do. I know exactly who he is.”

  “Patrick, what—?” Sparrow began.

  “I’ve been trying to tell you—”

  Madeline’s gut-wrenching wail stopped my reply.

  I reached for her arm. “I’m going to tell them.”

  “I-it doesn’t matter,” she muttered, sobs hiccupping her words. Mascara and tears covered her cheeks as blotches filled her neck and chest. “Y-you don’t understand.”

  I reached again for Madeline’s arms, no longer caring about Sparrow and Mason. “I understand you’re my wife. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Patrick,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I have to go with Andros.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I do. He has my—” Her glassy green eyes stared up at me. “Patrick, Andros has our daughter.”

  Thank you for reading SPARK.

  Patrick and Madeline’s story continues in FLAME and concludes in ASHES. You’re not going to want to miss a moment of WEB OF DESIRE. Preorder Flame and Ashes now by tapping on the titles.

  And if you haven’t read WEB OF SIN, Sterling Sparrow and Araneae’s story, begin the completed trilogy today by clicking on SECRETS. Turn the page for a sneak peek.

  Lastly, if you haven’t read TANGLED WEB, Mason/Kader and Laurel’s story, begin the completed trilogy today by clicking on TWISTED. Check out a sneak peek of TWISTED after the glimpse into SECRETS.

  A peek at SECRETS, book #1 Web of Sin

  Araneae

  PROLOGUE

  My mother’s fingers blanched as she gripped the steering wheel tighter with each turn. The traffic on the interstate seemed to barely move, yet we continued to swerve in, out, and around other cars. From my angle I couldn’t read the speedometer, though I knew we were bordering on reckless driving. I jumped, holding my breath as we pulled in front of the monstrous semi, the blare of a truck’s horn filling our ears. Tons of metal and sixteen wheels screeched as brakes locked behind us, yet my mother’s erratic driving continued.

  “Listen very carefully,” she said, her words muffled by the quagmire of whatever she was about to say, the weight pulling them down as she fluttered her gaze between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me.”

  I reached for the handle of the car door and held on as if the seat belt couldn’t keep me safe while she continued to weave from lane to lane.

  “Your father,” she began, “made mistakes, deadly mistakes.”

  My head shook side to side. “No, Dad was a good man. Why would you say that?”

  My father, the man I called Dad for as long as I could remember, was the epitome of everything good: honest and hardworking, a faithful husband, and an omnipresent father.

  He was.

  He died less than a week ago.

  “Listen, child. Don’t interrupt me.” She reached into her purse with one hand while the other gripped tighter to the wheel. Removing an envelope from the depths of the bag, she handed it my direction. �
�Take this. Inside are your plane tickets. God knows if I could afford to send you away farther than Colorado, I would.”

  My fingers began to tremble as I looked down at the envelope in my grasp. “You’re sending me away?” The words were barely audible as my throat tightened and heaviness weighed down upon my chest. “Mom—”

  Her chin lifted in the way it did when her mind was set. I had a million visions of the times I’d seen her stand up for what she believed. At only five feet three, she was a pit bull in a toy poodle body. That didn’t mean her bark was worse than her bite. No, my mother always followed through. In all things she was a great example of survival and fortitude.

  “When I say your father,” she went on, “I don’t mean my husband—may the Lord rest his soul. Byron was a good man who gave his...everything...for you, for us. He and I have always been honest with you. We wanted you to know that we loved you as our own. God knows that I wanted to give birth. I tried to get pregnant for years. When you were presented to us, we knew you were a gift from heaven.” Her bloodshot eyes—those from crying through the past week since the death of my dad—briefly turned my direction and then back to the highway. “Renee, never doubt that you’re our angel. However, the reality is somewhere darker. The devil has been searching for you. And my greatest fear has always been that he’d find you.”

  The devil?

  My skin peppered with goose bumps as I imagined the biblical creature: male-like with red skin, pointed teeth, and a pitchfork. Surely that wasn’t what she meant?

  Her next words brought me back to reality.

  “I used to wake in a cold sweat, fearing the day had arrived. It’s no longer a nightmare. You’ve been found.”

  “Found? I don’t understand.”

  “Your biological father made a deal against the devil. He thought if he did what was right, he could... well, he could survive. The woman who gave birth to you was my best friend—a long time ago. We hadn’t been in contact for years. She hoped that would secure your safety and keep you hidden. That deal...it didn’t work the way he hoped. Saving themselves was a long shot. Their hope was to save you. That’s how you became our child.”

  It was more information than I’d ever been told. I have always known I was adopted but nothing more. There was a promise of one day. I used to hope for that time to come. With the lead weight in the pit of my stomach, I knew that now that one day had arrived, and I wasn’t ready. I wanted more time.

  The only woman I knew as my mother shook her head just before wiping a tear from her cheek. “I prayed you’d be older before we had this talk, that you would be able to comprehend the gravity of this information. But as I said, things have changed.”

  The writing on the envelope blurred as tears filled my sixteen-year-old eyes. The man I knew as my dad was gone, and now the woman who had raised me was sending me away. “Where are you sending me?”

  “Colorado. There’s a boarding school in the mountains, St. Mary of the Forest. It’s private and elite. They’ll protect you.”

  I couldn’t comprehend. “For how long? What about you? What about my friends? When will I be able to come home?”

  “You’ll stay until you’re eighteen and graduated. And then it will be up to you. There’s no coming back here...ever. This city isn’t home, not anymore. I’m leaving Chicago, too, as soon as I get you out.” Her neck stiffened as she swallowed her tears. “We both have to be brave. I thought at first Byron’s accident was just that—an accident. But then this morning…I knew. Our time is up. They’ll kill me if they find me, just as they did Byron. And Renee...” She looked my way, her gray eyes swirling with emotion. While I’d expect sadness, it was fear that dominated. “…my fate would be easy compared to yours.”

  She cleared her throat, pretending that tears weren’t cascading down her pale cheeks.

  “Honey, these people are dangerous. They don’t mess around, and they don’t play fair. We don’t know how, but they found you, and your dad paid the price. I will forever believe that he died to protect you. That’s why we have this small window of time. I want you to know that if necessary, I’ll do the same. The thing is, my death won’t stop them. And no matter what, I won’t hand you over.”

  “Hand me over?”

  We swerved again, barreling down an exit until Mom slammed on her brakes, leaving us in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Her gaze again went to the rearview mirror.

  “Are we being followed?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, she continued her instructions. “In that envelope is information for your new identity, a trust fund, and where you’ll be living. Your dad and I had this backup plan waiting. We hoped we’d never have to use it, but he insisted on being prepared.” Her gaze went upward. “Thank you, Byron. You’re still watching over us from heaven.”

  Slowly, I peeled back the envelope’s flap and pulled out two Colorado driver’s licenses. They both contained my picture—that was the only recognizable part. The name, address, and even birth dates were different. “Kennedy Hawkins,” I said, the fictitious name thick on my tongue.

  “Why are there two?”

  “Look at the dates. Use the one that makes you eighteen years old for this flight. It’s to ensure the airline will allow you to fly unaccompanied. Once you’re in Colorado, destroy the one with the added two years. The school needs your real age for your grade in school.”

  I stared down at one and then the other. The name was the same. I repeated it again, “Kennedy Hawkins.”

  “Learn it. Live it. Become Kennedy.”

  A never-before-thought-of question came to my mind. “Did I have a different name before I came to you?”

  My mother’s eyes widened as her pallid complexion changed from white to gray. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

  I sat taller in the seat, mimicking the strength she’d shown me all of my life. “You’re sending me away. You’re saying we may never see one another again. This is my only chance. I think I deserve to be told everything.”

  “Not everything.” She blinked rapidly. “About your name, your dad and I decided to alter your birth name, not change it completely. You were very young, and we hoped having a derivation of what you’d heard would help make the transition easier. Of course, we gave you our last name.”

  “My real name isn’t Renee? What is it?”

  “Araneae.”

  The syllables played on repeat in my head, bringing back memories I couldn’t catch. “I’ve heard that before, but not as a name.”

  She nodded. “I always thought it was ironic how you loved insects. Your name means spider. Your birth mother thought it gave you strength, a hard outer shell, and the ability to spin silk, beautiful and strong.”

  “Araneae,” I repeated aloud.

  Her stern stare turned my way. “Forget that name. Forget Araneae and Renee. We were wrong to allow you any connection. Embrace Kennedy.”

  My heart beat rapidly in my chest as I examined all of the paperwork. My parents, the ones I knew, were thorough in their plan B. I had a birth certificate, a Social Security card, a passport matching the more accurate age, and the driver’s license that I’d seen earlier, all with my most recent school picture. According to the documentation, my parents’ names were Phillip and Debbie Hawkins. The perfect boring family. Boring or exciting, family was something I would never have again.

  “And what happened to Phillip and Debbie?” I asked as if any of this made sense.

  “They died in an automobile accident. Their life insurance funded your trust fund. You are an only child.”

  The car crept forward in the line of traffic near the departure terminal of O’Hare Airport. A million questions swirled through my head, and yet I struggled to voice even one. I reached out to my mother’s arm. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I’ll always be with you, always.”

  “How will we talk?”

  She lifted her fist to her chest. “In here. Listen to your heart.”

&
nbsp; Pulling to the curb and placing the car in park, she leaned my direction and wrapped me in her arms. The familiar scent of lotions and perfumes comforted me as much as her hug. “Know you’re loved. Never forget that, Kennedy.”

  I swallowed back the tears brought on by her calling me by the unfamiliar name.

  She reached for her wrist and unclasped the bracelet she always wore. “I want you to have this.”

  I shook my head. “Mom, I never remember seeing you without it.”

  “It’s very important. I’ve protected it as I have you. Now, I’m giving it to you.” She forced a smile. “Maybe it will remind you of me.”

  “Mom, I’d never forget you.” I looked down to the gold bracelet in the palm of my hand as my mom picked it up, the small charms dangling as she secured it around my wrist.

  “Now, it’s time for you to go.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do. Go to the counter for the airlines. Hand them your ticket and the correct identification. Stay strong.”

  “What about those people?” I asked. “Who are they? Will you be safe?”

  “I’ll worry about me once I’m sure that you’re safe.”

  “I don’t even know who they are.”

  Her gaze moved from me to the world beyond the windshield. For what seemed like hours, she stared as the slight glint of sunshine reflected on the frost-covered January ground. Snow spit through the air, blowing in waves. Finally, she spoke, “Never repeat the name.”

  “What name?”

  “Swear it,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

  It was almost too much. I nodded.

  “No. I need to hear you promise me. This name can never be spoken aloud.”

  “I swear,” I said.

  “Sparrow, Allister Sparrow. He’s currently in charge, but one day it will be his son, Sterling.”

  I wished for a pen to write the names down; however, from the way they sent a chill down my spine, I was most certain that I’d never forget.