Instead, she accepted Vitali’s hand. “I want to make this work---on to new beginnings and our future.”
Finally, alone, an hour later, she was still sleepless.
After turning and flipping for the thousandth time, she gave up.
She blew a tired breath.
Teary-eyed, staring at the ceiling, she embraced the rising misery. Hadn’t it been mounting since she’d left Braden, hours ago? Along with it, there came more guilt and shame.
“What have I done?” she whispered painfully, freeing the scalding tears. “How can I live with the fact that I’ve slept with Braden’s father, although it’s past history? Even as disgusting and vile as Vitali is, it doesn’t change the fact. Nor does it change the truth about me. Not only am I a liar, but I’m a whore. Oh, Braden, how can I make you understand?” Turning onto her side, she hugged the pillow close to her body and sobbed into it. “I’m sorry…so sorry.”
Squeezing the pillow tighter, she cried against the hurt.
They’d never have a chance.
Not after this.
It was the ultimate betrayal.
The tears kept falling.
They failed to wash away the truth.
She’d fallen straight into hell.
There was no way out.
Chapter 12
(Two months later)
On the Thursday afternoon, the cool fall weather was dreadful, especially since it was approaching mid-December. The winds were chilly and cut to the bone during travel. Down on the streets below, the people were bundled in heavy outerwear and scurried to their destination. Obviously, they were feeling the brunt of fall’s latest act of madness.
And she was gone…
Even now, the fact was difficult to process.
It hurt like hell.
Sighing, he kept his gaze centered on the busy intersection. The scurrying crowds below were nothing more than blurred images of nothingness. To no surprise, she was the only thing that pervaded his mind.
“Just as quickly as you came into my life,” he muttered quietly. “…you left it.”
Though he tried, he couldn’t tamper the disbelief.
It was fucking insane!
She’d been right there with him.
In his house…in his bed…in his arms…
But, now she wasn’t.
“This can’t be happening.” He released a pent-up breath. “Everything was close to perfect, but you left anyway. The question is---why.”
The day that she disappeared was on constant replay in his head. It was all that he could think about. Practically, he’d gone over every step, questioning if he’d said or done anything to anger her. From his recollection, he hadn’t, and in fact, he’d been better than good and on his best behavior.
On that ill-fated night, he’d been ecstatic, and like a poor besotted fool, he’d embraced the idea of happiness. But, he’d been surprised when he’d awakened alone in bed, and he’d gone searching for her. Once he was downstairs, he’d been stunned to find his weeping mother standing there in the dark, clutching a note between her trembling hands, and bemoaning that everything was her fault.
Upon discovering that she’d had left, his elation turned into dismay.
And the note, he mulled, staring down at the words that were suddenly blurred lines. He’d read them over and over at least a million times. Her words had held a distinct urgency---one where she wanted to stay but was forced to leave.
There was no dismissing her deep longing.
It literally bled with her every word.
“But, what really drove you away?” Distracted, he stared out the 31st story window of the Atlanta high rise. For weeks, the answer had evaded him, but he wasn’t about to give up. “No matter what it takes or how long, I’m going to find you.”
His ire worsened.
Her clandestine efforts had certainly worked.
She’d basically gone undetected.
She’d led him to the exact place that she wanted.
He’d clung to every word in her note.
It’d been like a pseudo-trail.
Like she’d promised, the Jeep had been parked in the employee section at the club, and he’d confiscated the keys from her so-called friend, Leo. When he’d questioned the man, he’d seemed somewhat shifty. Even as he’d demanded information about her, Leo had refused to grant any. In a huff, he’d entered the club like a raging madman, going from room to room in search of her.
He’d come up with nothing.
The next day, he’d gone back.
More surprise.
Quickly, he’d been told that she was no longer employed there. And the manager had been completely useless, he mulled darkly. Like Leo, he’d been a closed vault, outright refusing to disclose any personal contact information on her.
So, he’d hired his own secret weapon---a private investigator.
With all hope, the crafty P.I. would turn up something soon.
Still, as he stared out, he couldn’t shake his disappointment.
Usually, from this vantage point, he admired the view from the high-rise. But, now, darkness seemed to drape the clear blue skies. The idea only made it easier for him to focus on the emptiness that dwelled inside of him.
Suddenly, growing impatient, he turned to his desk and pressed the intercom. Within a scant second, Penelope, his receptionist responded. “Yes, Mr. Jameson?”
“Any word from Palmore, yet?”
“I’m afraid not,” Penelope said apologetically. “But, as soon as he does, I’ll let you know immediately.”
“Never mind that,” he quipped tightly. “I’ll contact the bastard myself. Hold all my calls and cancel my appointments for today. In a short while, I’ll be leaving. Better yet, take the rest of the fucking day off and rest your feet. I’m sure that your kid will appreciate it, even if he’s not here yet.”
The receptionist didn’t bother disguising her joy. “Of course, Mr. Jameson.”
A moment later, he was cruising in the Bugatti along Ferry’s Drive. With ease the Bluetooth connected his phone line and responded to his voice command. When the P.I. didn’t answer after the fifth ring, he released a violent expletive. “For $500 fucking dollars an hour, your ass better turn up.”
On the sixth ring, the P.I. finally answered. “Palmore.”
“Jameson here.” He centered a foul look on the roadway. There were just too many damn cars at this hour! Shouldn’t everyone be working, playing golf, or something? Hell, anything and everything was pissing him off, especially the man that he was addressing now. “Listen. For weeks, I’ve been more than patient. Basically, you’ve given me shit for information. No---make that nothing. But, I’m done playing around with your ass. I hired you for a reason, Palmore---results. You better have something.”
“For once, I’m not coming at you empty-handed. I have information.” Then, he began rambling excuses. “I’d planned on calling shortly. But, I got caught up in another case---”
“Skip the bullshit small talk and excuses.” He blew an impatient breath. Still, he couldn’t dispel the rising hope in his broad chest. “Just tell me what you’ve got.”
“An addy. Pretty nice place in the Powder Springs area. Jade Garden Apartments, Unit 212-C ground level.” The private investigator coughed into the phone several times. “Sorry about that, got a little crud in my throat.” Then, after wheezing, he detailed more information. “And oh, there’s a pretty nice burgundy-colored 4-door sedan, a 2018 Honda Civic I believe, parked just outside it. Ran a scan on the license plate, and it checked out to be hers.”
“What about Bella?” He clenched the steering tight and held his breath. Still, a wistful hopefulness swelled instead his chest. “Have you seen any sign of her?”
“No, unfortunately. Checked the place out yesterday, scouted it out all night. Still no sign of your lady friend. I’m sorry.”
“Well, sorry’s not fucking good enough.” Tone snappish, he glared at the console. “You fi
nd her or else. Trust me, Palmore. You don’t want to find out what that ‘else’ is.”
With that threat, he ended the call.
Interstate 29 was congested.
Several moments later, he was taking Exit 127 to the Powder Springs area.
He slowed at the intersection and then stopped at the traffic light.
Curious, he glanced around.
A smile curled his lips.
This was exactly the kind of place that she would choose.
Not too slow and not too fast.
The area wasn’t affluent nor was it run-down.
A perfect middle within the defined social levels……
Fifteen minutes in, he finally located Jade Garden Apartments, and then parked right beside her sedan. After killing the motor, he climbed from the Bugatti, and as he glanced to his left, he resisted a chuckle.
The curtain was pulled back at the adjacent apartment, and the elderly African-American woman stood in plain sight, not bothering to disguise her presence. Frowning, gaze narrowed, she scrutinized him openly. In her arms, she cradled a Chihuahua, and the dog barked wildly at the mere sight of him.
“Good afternoon,” he called out, offering a charming grin, and then waved at her. Of course, his friendliness would be rebuffed. Harrumphing, the woman promptly dropped the curtain. But, without a doubt, she was probably eyeing him through the crack. Shaking his head, he gave a small laugh. “Gotta love nosy neighbors. They never miss a thing.”
“Unit 212-C, here we are,” he muttered under his breath and halted outside the door. Suddenly, he had a nervous pit in his stomach. “And hopefully, she is, too.”
To his chagrin, his hand shook as he reached out.
He rang the doorbell.
It made a melodious chime.
Holding a bated breath, he stared at the door.
Thirty seconds lapsed.
No answer.
He pressed the tiny button again.
On the other side of the door, there was only silence again.
Several long seconds later, he accepted the truth.
She wasn’t there.
Disappointed, he wandered back to the Bugatti. But, once he was sitting inside the vehicle again, he didn’t depart immediately. Instead, bracing both arms against the steering wheel, he stared through the front glass and kept a careful eye on her door.
“You can’t have just disappeared off the face of this earth. But, where in the hell are you?”
A call came in.
When the caller was identified, he bit back a curse.
Vitali.
On the sixth ring, he responded. “Hello.”
“Where the hell are you?” Vitali demanded with his usual impatience. “I went by your office earlier only to find you gone. That scattered brain secretary of yours said that you’d be out for the remainder of the day.” An inquisitive note played in his tone. “I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised that you were. Your absence at the place has become quite noticeable and is festering into a bad habit. Wasn’t it only weeks ago that you were on a temporary hiatus---the time around when we had the ‘great’ flood? No one saw you for weeks.” His criminal father didn’t hide his interest. “So, what’s the fuck going on with you?”
“Explaining my actions to you has never been a habit. I don’t foresee me doing it now.” He glared at the dashboard. “What do you want, Vitali?”
“Your presence at dinner tomorrow tonight, son,” Vitali said in his most charming tone, but a slight coldness dripped from it. “It will be an intimate affair, including namely me and you.” He paused for a moment. “If everything goes as planned, someone else will be joining us as well.”
His refusal was quick. “I’m busy.”
“Come on, Titan. Indulge me just once. It’s not often that you and I sit down and have dinner together.” An impatient breath left him. “Alright, let me dangle this in front of you. It’s obvious that business has to be included on the agenda in order for us to meet. We need to discuss this Ricci situation and how to handle it.”
Now, he had his interest.
“For once, we’re in agreement on something.” Still, he kept his gaze planted on her apartment. Foolishly, wasn’t he waiting for her to materialize? Again, when she didn’t, his disappointment worsened, and he returned his attention to the call. “What time?”
“8:00 pm at my place and dress sharp.”
At that word, he was left with a dead dial tone.
Watching her doorway, he entered Palmore’s number, and once more, he saw as the nosy neighbor lifted her curtain. But, this time rather than being amused, he was irritated. Without a doubt, he was the current subject of a neighborhood watch. Unfortunately, he wasn’t an all-the-way good guy, and the woman had every right to be leery of him.
The private investigator answered quickly. “Palmore.”
“Jameson again. Haul your ass over here to Jade Garden---right now.”
“Mr. Jameson need I remind you that I have other obligations---”
“The only obligations I give a damn about are the ones that you owe me, Palmore. Consider this as your opportunity to rectify your failures from the past weeks,” he quipped tightly, staring straight ahead. “I want this place staked out 24/7. If so much as a gnat buzzes across her front door, I want to know about it. Understand?”
“Totally,” the P.I. said stiffly. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
The called ended.
For the umpteenth time, he glanced at her apartment.
Again, nothing…
But, there was someone else.
The nosy neighbor watcher hadn’t left her perch.
As he turned his attention towards her again, he was rewarded with the same dismissive act as before. The woman’s action was symbolic, in a sense, while she dropped the curtain down and shielded him from sight.
He stared at no particular point in the distance.
Wasn’t Bella pushing him out her life, too?
Her actions seemed to say as much.
Apparently, it’s what she wanted.
“But, not before I have an answer.”
With those words, he sped off.
***
“Spencer, you’re one helluva an agent.” Rowell’s pale features were etched with clear approval. As always, though, he was dressed in the usual attire---tired and worn wrinkled clothing. However, that was par for the course when undercover or holding close to 24-hour stakeouts. An excited energy bounced from him still. “The accomplishments that you’ve made in these last months are astounding. In my many years of observations, I’d say that they were unmatchable.”
Fatigued, drained, she listened while he droned on.
She’d expended most of her energy trying to get here.
It had taken some hard planning to fool Vitali and lose his men. Yet, she’d done that very thing. Of course, it was just another rightful advantage of being an agent---knowing and executing the appropriate scheme.
They were at their usual meeting spot.
10:38 pm on point…
The light swayed overhead in the dingy motel room and cast shadows about.
Suddenly, like it, she was present and not present at the same time.
In a word---lost…
For weeks, since falling in with Vitali again, she’d experienced the all-suffering bad feeling. Interacting with the criminal was taxing on her psyche, as expected. But, she’d made the necessary inroads, she noted, and discovered information that was highly critical to the case. With just a little more time and effort, they’d nail him.
The dark, lonely nights were her solace.
Serving as both comfort and discord……
For there, Braden’s presence lived and breathed.
On many nights, she’d awaken in a cold sweat, reeling from a nightmare of sort. Always, he’d be out of her reach and fade away into nothingness. When that happened, she’d cry herself to sleep.
Some nights, though, were hot, forbi
dden, and scandalous.
In her dreams and illusive fantasies, he’d be touching her all over. Body to body, skin to skin, they’d be intensely connected. Over and over, he’d drive into her. In the end, she’d drift into a fuzzy alertness, writhing and moaning. Breathless, lost, in the dark, she’d masturbate. With every selfish touch, she’d envision him being deep inside her…
Next, she’d remembered their growing closeness.
The way he talked to her gently and listened to her thoughts…
The way he kissed her forehead and caressed her…
The way he laughed at her corny jokes…
His smile---it lit up her world…
A growing ache filled her chest.
Dear God, please help her.
She missed him more than anything.
She started when Rowell’s voice boomed louder.
“……actions like that will lead to a promotion in the not so distant future,” Rowell hinted, still continuing with his talk. “So, keep doing your thing, Spencer. It will pay off tremendously in the long run.”
“I find your opinion highly valuable, Rowell.” She sent a silent prayer of gratitude for the instant regain of composure. This wasn’t her typical reaction, response, or behavior when handling a case. Then, again, her emotions and feelings weren’t tied into knots like they were currently. Still, her expression was stoic. “In this case, however, you’re being way generous about my abilities.”
“No, I don’t think so. The fact remains that you’re damn good at your job, and I’m not the only one that notices. Trust me on this---the higher-ups do realize your potential. To say that they’re incredibly impressed would be a gross understatement.” Rowell straddled the chair and faced her across the table. “It’s always the same thing with you, my dear friend. You’re just not good at handling compliments.”
She blinked twice.
Hadn’t Braden said the exact same thing once?
“Alright, so let’s talk,” Rowell’s eagerness played all over his features. Already, the adrenaline was pumping fast through the senior FBI agent. “First things first, give me the 411 on Vitali’s golden boy. For weeks, you were holed up with the bastard and his wacked version of a family. What have you learned about the great and mighty Titan?”
Rise of the Titan Page 30
