by Brinda Berry
I nod numbly. “I see.”
Toby’s brow furrows. “I know you don’t like me, but we just have to spend the next couple of days together and this is over.”
“You make it sound very easy.” Diesel snores softly in my lap. “If you know all this stuff about Rafa, why don’t you just go arrest him?”
“He hasn’t done anything yet that we can take to trial. That’s how the best criminals work. Nothing’s traced back to them.”
“I still don’t get it. If I give you the code, he doesn’t have anything incriminating.”
“We’re going to wire you. You’ll give him a copy. We need to get him to prepare to run Eavesdropper on his servers and then we shut him down.”
“Wait. You said I’m going to give it to him. Do I have to emphasize that I am not trained for this espionage shit?”
His mouth pulls for a brief moment. “That’s why you have me. You won’t be alone.”
Chapter Twenty
Suspicious Minds
Dylan
Jordy lingers in my doorway, both hands braced on the threshold. “I said Emerson’s not coming today. What happened?”
“Nothing.” I knot my tie and grab my wallet from the dresser. The house is filled with the voices of Collin and Ace downstairs.
“Don’t lie to me. I know you too well.” He comes in and leans against the wall. “You two got into a fight.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
I attempt to leave, but Jordy puts an arm across the open door. “She needs you, so get over whatever the little spat is and call her.”
Alarm bells ring in my brain. She does need me, but I’m still recovering from the aftershocks of knowing she wouldn’t give up the other guy.
Or am I the other guy?
“She’s seeing a guy named Toby.”
Jordy’s shock, before he covers it, is real. “Maybe they were dating before she started seeing you,” he says.
“No. She hasn’t known him long. This is some long-haired dude who rides a motorcycle and works at Folks’ Auto.”
“Really.” Jordy’s pauses. “That doesn’t sound like Emerson to date two guys at once. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Yeah, well, I thought that too.” I shove him gently to the side. “I’m going to the office.”
Jordy stays propped in my doorway as I pass him and head downstairs. Footsteps sound on the stairs and he suddenly meets me at the front door. “I’ve watched Emerson’s life for a while,” he says. “She hasn’t dated anyone for the past year. I’m positive. Then she up and decides to date two? Think about it.”
He’s right. It doesn’t make sense. The girl who laid it out for me in no uncertain terms that she is into monogamy wouldn’t have another guy in the picture.
I open the door and breathe in the frigid air. Maybe I’m overthinking everything.
It’s one in the afternoon when I finally stop to take a lunch break. We’ve had a busy morning with a sales meeting about our spring marketing plans. The sales staff seem to know I’m in no mood for jokes and light conversation.
My cell chimes and I glance at the display. It’s Jordy. “Hello.”
“Did you say you know this Toby guy?”
My gut burns at the mention of his name. “Met him once. Is that why you called? I really don’t want to talk—”
“I called Gabby. She met this Toby guy for the first time today.”
“So?”
“Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”
“Not really.” I drum my pen against a pad on my desk. “What’s your point?”
“Gabby is the nosiest person I know. Chic should be a private investigator. She goes through Emerson’s things, knows her sister’s business. I’d think she would know all about Toby.”
“Emerson did a good job of keeping the secret from me...”
“I’m telling you that something isn’t right. I went to the Folks’ webpage. They have a page called ‘At Your Service’ where they put names and photos of all their mechanics. It’s a PR thing. No Toby there.”
“Well, you got an A in detective work until that point. I met him while he was working at Folks’.”
“Gabby says Emerson is crazy about you. That anytime she mentions you, she gets all flustered.”
Jordy’s statement sends a zing of pleasure through me. A second later, the zing dies and numbness takes over. I twirl to face the wall of glass and stare at the ceiling while I rub my temple.
“I think she’s exaggerating. Or maybe Emerson was afraid of getting caught.” I look out to my showroom floor and see my office manager watching me from her desk. I rotate my chair away from her prying eyes.
“I think you should call Gabby. Ask her yourself. I’ll give you the number. Just think about what I said.”
I take the offered number all while thinking I’d have to be a real loser to call Emerson’s younger sister and ask for details concerning the other guy. The guy who has something I don’t have—some trait that Emerson is looking for in a man she dates.
“Hey, Dylan,” Aggie calls over the phone intercom. “You have a guest heading your way. And she’s too fast to stop.”
“Hey,” Gabby says, opening my door and poking her head in.
Speak of the little-sister devil.
“Hi, Gabby. How are you?” I stand and smile, my good manners kicking in on autopilot despite my surprise.
She nods with a serious expression. “What’s going on with you and Emerson?”
Not quite the question I expected. “I think you need to ask her.”
“Well, I’m asking you for a reason.” She sits in the chair in front of my desk and studies me.
I’m not sure why I feel I’m under inspection. “We disagreed on something this morning.” I take my seat again and flex my hands against my legs.
“My sister is my best friend in the entire world.” Gabby crosses her arms. “Why is she with this guy Toby and not you?”
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Count to three. “Listen. I think it’s really great that you’re concerned about your sister. But it’s her business and mine. Private business.”
“She’s with this Toby guy today.” Gabby twists the virtual knife a little harder. “She doesn’t even like him. I’m pretty sure she hates him.”
Blood rushes into my head. Black rage threatens to spill out of me if I don’t get answers soon. “How well do you know this guy? He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?”
“Never met him before this morning. He came inside and I was interested. He’s a hot guy. But then I see the way Emerson reacts to him and I know—know without a doubt—that she wanted to tear into him. But she didn’t. Not in front of me. It’s like she was hiding something.”
A combination of sick relief and fear travels through my gut. I wipe a hand across my neck and loosen the knot of my tie. “Anything else? Tell me everything. Please, Gabby.”
She exhales and stares at my desk. “Everything. Okay. So, she offers her car to me. She never does that. Then when I tell her I won’t be home tonight, she blows it off and just tries to leave with that guy.”
“And these are not normal things?”
“Are you kidding? My sister wants to know my every move. Usually it chaps my ass but today? Today she was scary-disinterested. Maybe that’s not fair. Really, I think she was so preoccupied with getting away to talk to Toby that she didn’t have enough energy to deal with me.” Gabby nods, satisfied with her analysis.
“Does she know where you are now?”
“Of course not. She never came home after her class and then I found out from Jordy that she wasn’t going to clean your house today. So where is she? She won’t answer my calls.” Gabby’s words tumble out and her voice borders on frantic.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I say, which is exactly the opposite from what my instincts scream. “Listen. You should go home. Let me have your number. I’ll check in with you in a little while.”
“You
call her. She’ll answer yours.” Gabby demands this without any thought that I’ll deny her.
“Gab—”
She raises her hand. “You care about her. Be a man and get over your pride. Call her.”
I’ve just been dressed down by the tyrant little sister. I bob my head slowly. “I’ll call. Maybe she’ll pick up.”
Gabby scribbles her number on a post-it note from my desk and hands it to me. “And then call me. I want to know if you get ahold of her.”
“Sure.”
Gabby leaves and I’m unable to act. My rapid pulse is the only sound in my office. It overpowers the noise of customers in the showroom and the sound of Serena laughing at some joke.
I’m filled with a sense of trepidation and it’s futile to do anything other than conquer what’s made me afraid. A gliding hawk dive-bombs my stomach. In the end, I tell myself that I know how to deal with rejection. It’s part of the sales life.
I press the speed-dial key for Emerson and stop breathing. One ring and I wonder where she is. Two rings and I imagine what she’s doing. Three rings and voice mail picks up.
Cannot. Breathe. I gulp air into my lungs.
“Emerson. It’s me.” The phone shakes in my hand. “I...I wanted to say I’m sorry if I lost my temper this morning. Call me.”
When I call Gabby, she lets me know that I’m to call her the minute Emerson calls back. I agree, but I’ve got an odd feeling that she won’t return my call.
I work the rest of my day with an attitude that earns me the title of King Crab with my staff. Gabby calls as I’m walking out and invites me to their place to wait with her.
“Good idea,” I answer. If I have to worry about Emerson for another second, I’ll likely need a tranquilizer the size they give tigers at the zoo. “Be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Hey, Dylan? Can you bring something for dinner?”
I actually hold the phone away from my head and stare at the display like Gabby might be able to see my face. If she could, she’d take back her request. This girl is the very definition of aggressive.
With the phone back against my ear, I agree. A little dinner can’t hurt either one of us.
Gabby and I sit on the sofa balancing paper plates of pizza on our knees. She’s shown me photos of her childhood and I’m struck by the fact that many feature Emerson. Emerson and a dog. Emerson on a stage. Emerson modeling a dress.
God, she’s beautiful and always has been.
“Where are all the photos of you?” I ask.
“Daddy took most of the pictures. Emerson was his favorite.” Gabby says it matter-of-factly.
I nod and act like her statement doesn’t shock me. “Thanks for showing me these.” I take a bite of pizza.
“Are you worried?” Gabby glances at the wall clock. It’s grown dark and we’ve both avoided talking about where Emerson might be and why she hasn’t returned our calls.
“No,” I lie. “She’ll be home in a few minutes.”
Not a moment later, the door opens and Emerson stands without moving. Her gaze moves from me to Gabby and back. “I thought that was your car.”
There’s a shadow behind her and Toby steps inside.
I nod while keeping my eye contact with Emerson. “Gabby invited me.” The words are out of my mouth before I can contemplate all their implications.
Gabby gets up from the sofa and grabs our paper plates. “I’ve been calling you. I asked Dylan to call you.”
Emerson’s lips press together. Her nostrils flare. “Gabby, I’m home now. Did you need something?”
Gabby gives her sister a hateful look. “Yes, maybe I did. But you didn’t have the courtesy—”
“Dylan, can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
She walks straight to her tiny bedroom without saying another word. I have no choice but to follow.
“I’ll call you later, babe,” Toby says.
Emerson’s already gone to her room, but I hear his parting words before the front door shuts.
I walk inside and close her door softly. “Hi.” My mouth is dry and it’s all I can manage.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why didn’t you come to the house today?” I ask.
“I had some things I needed to do.”
“With Toby?”
“Maybe. What are you doing with Gabby?” Emerson stalks toward me. “You leave her alone. Don’t think you can use her to make me jealous.”
“What? You think that’s why I’m here? To play some game and use Gabby? You sure think a lot of my character.”
“Stay away from Gabby.” Her eyes flash with a fury I haven’t seen since the day Toby dropped her off at my house the first time.
“Are you hearing yourself? You dumped me this morning and gave up the right to tell me to do anything.”
She sucks in air. I resist grabbing her and shaking sense into that head of hers. I know she still wants me.
“Out. Get out. Now.” Emerson grabs the door and swings it wide. It pops against the wall.
Gabby comes to the doorway before I can leave. “He didn’t do anything.”
Emerson looks at her sister. “You. How could you? Don’t even talk to me.”
“It’s not like that,” Gabby whispers, but Emerson isn’t listening. I shake my head at Gabby and walk past her. “Lock up behind me, okay?”
Gabby nods and follows me to the door. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Don’t worry. We’ll work it out. Call me,” she says in a low voice.
“People never realize what they had until it’s too late,” I say.
I look up in time to see Emerson in the hallway, listening to every incriminating word.
Chapter Twenty-One
Don’t Stop Believin’
Emerson
Day Two of Toby time has gotten easier. I don’t know him well enough to feel comfortable, but we’ve been forced into a crazy version of co-habitation during my waking hours. After too many hours of mindless television, I decide to clean his living room.
Diesel follows me around like a lovesick pup. He periodically pokes his wet nose into my behind as a reminder that I’m on petting duty. That’s what I get for spending my initial hours as his human slave.
Toby drops a duffel bag at one end of the retro-style kitchen table. He reads his phone and rubs his hand along his jawline. The corners of his mouth dip.
“Bad news?” I ask.
“It’s nothing,” he answers with a stiff smile.
“You married?”
He places his phone on the table. “No. Why do you ask?”
I shrug and wipe down the dusty front of the television. “I don’t know.”
“You asked for a reason. Maybe you’re interested in me.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. Toby’s eyebrows draw together as if he’s truly hurt.
“I thought maybe a wife or girlfriend is tired of you working,” I say, nodding at the phone.
“This undercover stuff doesn’t lend well to a relationship.” He sits at the table and pulls a toweled bundle from his duffel bag.
“Doesn’t work well for me either.” I sit across from him and watch as he unrolls the towel. “Holy shit. A gun?”
He glances up at me. “Sorry. Maybe I should’ve warned you.”
“This is getting gangster-real, don’t you think? Is that necessary?”
Toby levels his gaze. “Very.”
“Okay. That was a stupid thing to say on my part, but I keep thinking I’m going to wake from a bad dream.”
“Do you know why your father might take you off his visitor’s list?” Toby picks up his phone and rests both elbows on the table while he stares at the screen.
His question echoes in my mind. “No.” My voice sounds tinny, weak and confused. Like the answer an Alzheimer’s patient might give when trying to dredge up the correct response.
“Hmm...” he responds and continues to stare at his phone. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
&nbs
p; I’m numb. I’ve been hanging around at Toby’s imagining two things—what I’ll say to my father that won’t sound bitter and how I’ll make Dylan see this was a farce. “I can’t blame him. Would you want to see the daughter whom you haven’t heard from in years?” I lay my arms on the table in front of me and place my head down on them. Wallowing in self-pity has never been my thing, but I’m suddenly drowning in a mire.
“Yeah. I would.” There’s the sound of a moving chair and Toby’s hand on my arm. Then, his hands brace my shoulders. “Hey, it might be a mistake. There has to be a reason for it. We’re checking with his attorney to see if he can get in tomorrow.”
“What if Rafa decides he’ll kill somebody because he thinks I’m stalling—”
“Stop. We’ll come up with something.” Toby pulls me to my feet and moves me to face him. “Do I look like this is a problem? We’ll get a message to your father tomorrow that he has to see you.”
“How can you be sure that will work?” I search his face for some doubt. My hands are clenched into tight fists. I don’t realize this until Toby uncurls them, holding them loosely between us—a subtle sign of camaraderie rather than romance.
“We’ll have his attorney tell him you’re pregnant or dying or having a sex change. It’ll work.”
I pull in air. “Right. Extraordinary circumstances. Why can’t we just tell him the truth? It’s pretty dire.”
Toby has a look of regret. “We don’t think he’ll confide in his attorney. Your father’s already had his nose broken and maybe more...”
I close my eyes, a slow dose of horror and pity filtering into me. All the anger at my father seems so far away and petty. So useless. “I don’t like to think about what it’s like in there.”
Toby tips my chin up and I open my eyes. He releases his hold and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “If he’s going to trust someone, it has to be you.”
