“Kenz?” The nickname curled around my tongue. It fit her.
“That’s what Jensen calls her, said Kennedy was too formal. Guess it’s catching on.”
I nodded. “I gotta get back to the resort, but let’s grab a drink tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll be celebrating my closing on that property.”
Walker grinned. “I hope it works out. Shoot me a text tomorrow, and we’ll figure out a time.”
“Sounds good.” I beeped my locks and opened my door, but paused before I climbed in. “Walker?” He paused in his trek back to the ranch house, turning to face me. “I’m happy for you.” The words made a burn take flight in my chest.
The smile that spread across his face was one that could only belong to a man who was a total goner for his woman. “Thanks, Cain. You’ll—” He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. He knew better than to tell me that I’d find that. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am, too.” I gave a jerk of my chin and climbed into my SUV. The drive back to the resort I was staying at a few miles outside of town was quiet. Only the sounds of gravel under my tires to keep me company.
Gravel turned to pavement as I pulled into the resort. I hopped out of my Rover, leaving the door open for the valet. I ignored any polite smiles from fellow guests and staff as I headed straight for my suite.
The familiar itch at the back of my brain was back. Something that said I needed to know more about the girl from dinner. I slipped my keycard into the lock, fingers drumming against my thigh as I waited for the light to turn green. I pushed open the door and headed straight for the safe. Keying in the code, I removed my laptop.
I strode to the desk, setting my computer down and settling into the chair. I opened the laptop, typing in my security codes. I launched a browser and got to work. An hour went by in record time. An hour, and almost nothing to show for it.
I stared at the image on my screen. Auburn hair, freckles dusting the tops of her cheeks and nose, creamy white complexion below, and startling green eyes. There was no denying she was beautiful. Beautiful in a way that would stop a man in his tracks and make him do a whole lot of stupid shit just to get her to turn that smile his way.
But there was also no denying that she was a ghost. The only photo I could find of her was the one on her driver’s license. Other than that one single piece of ID, the woman didn’t exist. No bank account. No credit cards. No lease. No car.
There was nothing else, good or bad, that I could find. Anywhere. While some would say that was a good thing, I knew the truth. It was nothing but bad. People didn’t erase a life unless they had something to hide.
One dinner and I knew my friends were taken by her. It was no surprise. Sarah and Jensen had the most tender hearts of anyone I knew. They were forever rescuing strays, both animal and human. Hell, that’s why I was there, wasn’t it?
But they often didn’t think about the risks involved. Walker used to be good about checking that stuff out, but it seemed Taylor had softened him, made him just a touch less cynical about the world. I was happy for my brother, but it just meant that I needed to look out for the friends in my life who were more like family.
And that’s just what I’d do.
I glanced up at the sign that read The Tea Kettle as I headed up the stone walk to Jensen’s tea shop. She’d done a great job with the place, and it looked better than ever. It wasn’t my taste, but I knew plenty of people who loved that shabby chic, mismatched look, and she’d created that in spades. Worn, wooden tables with an array of chairs in all shapes and sizes. Different jars holding mixed wildflowers dotted the tables, and all sorts of knickknacks decorated the walls. A bell jingled as I pushed open the door, and my gaze zeroed in on the woman behind the counter.
Mid-morning sunlight kissed her hair, making the red in the strands appear that much more vibrant. And that russet tone seemed to make the green in her eyes glow. I gave my head a little shake. “Good morning.”
Kennedy startled a bit at my voice, apparently lost in thought as she placed scones in the bakery case. She straightened, licking her bow-shaped lips. “Morning. What can I get you?”
I looked up at the chalkboard above Kennedy’s head. Jensen had added to the menu. “I’ll take the breakfast sandwich with bacon.”
Kennedy jotted that down on a notepad. “Anything to drink?”
“Do you have orange juice?”
She nodded. “Let me just run this back to the kitchen, and then I’ll ring you up.” She disappeared before I could agree or not.
“Coming right up, bigshot,” Jensen called from the kitchen.
I chuckled. “Thanks, Little J.”
Kennedy emerged from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. I studied her as she hit a few keys on the register. “That’ll be eleven fifty.”
I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”
She scowled at the bill. “That’s too much.”
My focus on her narrowed. What game was she playing? “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide what sort of tip is warranted? I am the customer, after all.”
Kennedy’s mouth pressed into a firm line before she spoke. “Of course. I’ll bring your meal out to you as soon as it’s ready.” She ducked down to pull an orange juice out of the fridge. “Here’s your juice.” She set it on the counter instead of handing it to me.
“Thank you.” I stayed near the register. “So, how long have you lived in Sutter Lake?”
Her gaze met mine and held. “A few months.”
“And before that?”
She licked her lips again. A cue she was unsure about something. I just wasn’t sure what. “Portland.” Her gaze drifted away from mine as she said the word. A lie. Or not the whole truth.
“Hmmm.” I let the sound out slowly, not moving my gaze from her. She started to squirm. Good.
“Can I get you anything else?” Kennedy didn’t meet my eyes as she spoke.
“Nope.” I still didn’t move. “So, where’d you grow up?”
Kennedy’s entire body seized as though someone had sent an electric shock through her. “What’s with the twenty questions?”
I searched her face, looking for answers I knew she wouldn’t give, but shrugged at the same time. “Just trying to get to know the folks in my new home.”
Her skeptical expression told me that she wasn’t buying it for a minute. “Okay. I’m twenty-two years old, I have a dog who snores louder than a freight train, I hate Brussel sprouts, and my favorite color is purple. What about you?”
I leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m thirty-six, no pets but I’d like a dog someday, I hate creamed corn, and my favorite color is green.” The shade of green of her eyes flashed in my mind, and my jaw tightened. “Now, why don’t you tell me something real?”
Kennedy’s knuckles bleached white as she gripped the counter. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re very good at avoiding questions you don’t want to answer. Have Jensen and Walker even noticed they don’t know the first thing about you?”
Kennedy’s creamy white complexion bleached of any color, and I had the sudden urge to steady her, worried that she might faint. Her spine straightened, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “What they know is really none of your business, is it?”
My fists tightened at my sides, but I kept my tone casual. “They’re my family. It’s certainly my business.”
“Bullshit,” she hissed, color rising to her cheeks.
I grinned. It looked as if I’d finally tripped a trigger. That was good. When people got frustrated or angry, they stopped keeping a leash on their tongues. My grin turned just a bit heated. “What? Is asking questions a crime like large tips?”
Her fingers wrapped around the strings of her apron, twisting and tightening. “I know your type. All custom-tailoring and hundred-thousand-dollar cars. Thinking money can buy you anything. Well, let me tell you this. A ten-dollar tip doe
sn’t buy you the right to stick your nose in my business. No amount of money would. I don’t know why you’re asking so many questions. I don’t care to know. Keep your distance from me, and I’ll return the favor.”
The grin had slipped from my face. There was pain in her eyes. It was deep and raw and…fuck. I might have read the situation totally wrong. Maybe it wasn’t my friends who needed protecting. Maybe it was Kennedy. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorr—”
She cut me off by holding up a hand. “It’s fine. Just grab a table. I’ll bring you your food when it’s ready.” She turned on her heel and strode into the kitchen.
Well, shit.
7
Kennedy
My phone buzzed in my bike basket as I was chaining it to the rack in front of the ballet studio. Unknown number. A trickle of unease slid down my spine. I tapped the screen. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Kennedy Barrington?”
My stomach churned, and I could feel the beat of my pulse in my neck. “No. I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.” The tremble in my voice was barely audible, but I knew it was there. I just hoped the person on the other end of the line didn’t hear it.
“I apologize for the inconvenience.”
I swallowed, the movement sticking as my throat had gone dry. “No problem.”
I hit end on the screen. My hand shook as I placed the phone back into my bag. Memories assaulted me as I zipped the top closed. Memories from before I’d gotten smart, changed my last name, and got a new phone number.
I grabbed my phone off the rickety table in my minuscule studio apartment. “Hello?”
“Is this Kennedy?”
“It is. Who am I speaking with?” I went back to emptying the small grocery bag.
“You’re a murderer. Your whole family is. You’ll pay. One day, you’ll get what’s coming to you. I’ll make sure of it.”
I’d dropped the phone as if I’d been burned, the screen shattering. I’d made an appointment with a lawyer the next day. And slowly began the process of erasing my life.
But there was something so incredibly freeing about being a blank canvas. I could decide who I wanted to be. I could try things on. Pick them up and put them down. What did Kennedy Charles wear? What music did she listen to? What books did she read? What did she like to do in her free time?
Who was I kidding? There was no free time. I worked myself to the bone. Mostly for distraction. Because as soon as I was still for too long, the guilt got louder. Most of the time, it was low background noise. But if I got too quiet, sat with my thoughts for too long, it became a thundering drum.
And now, someone who knew about the person I used to be had my number. I flashed back to earlier that morning. All of Cain’s questions. Did he know the truth? In the moment, I hadn’t been able to tell if he was fucking with me or flirting—or maybe a little bit of both. But now I wondered if he knew about my past.
I let out a slow breath. You’re okay. You’re safe. I mouthed the words over and over to myself until my heart rate calmed. Just because someone had found a phone number didn’t mean that someone was going to show up and throw fake blood on me again. Or worse. I’d go to the convenience store tomorrow and pick up a new cell with a new number. I’d had this one for too long anyhow. Everything would be fine.
“Miss Kennedy!” Annabeth ran across the parking lot, her mother following closely behind. She hit my legs with an oomph and grinned up at me, one tooth missing.
I gave her a squeeze. “How are you today, Miss A?”
Her grin got wider. “I’m great! It’s ballet day.”
“That it is.” I flicked one of her pigtails over her shoulder as she let me go. When I looked up, I saw a sheen of tears in her mother’s eyes. “Annabeth, why don’t you run inside and practice your positions? I’ll be right in.”
She nodded and ran for the studio. I looked back to Patrice. “Are you all right?”
She wiped a finger under her eyes. “Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just, Jim lost his job. Cutbacks. Things are going to be tight for a while. I don’t think we’ll be able to manage these ballet lessons.”
My heart clenched. Annabeth was my most gung-ho student. She loved every second of her classes. I reached out and took Patrice’s hand. “Don’t worry about paying. I’ll work something out with Seraphina. You just do what you need to for your family.”
The wetness was back in Patrice’s eyes. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Nonsense. Of course, you can.” I squeezed her shoulder. “We all need a hand sometimes. It’s okay to take it.” I did a quick mental calculation. I could swing it. My grocery budget would be a little tight, but I could make it work.
Patrice pulled me into a hug. “You are such a good soul.”
A war of sensations erupted in my chest. Warmth, gratitude, pride. Pain, guilt, and fear. I had to hold on to the reminder that I could be whoever I wanted to be now. And the person I wanted to be was generous. She made sure everyone around her had whatever they needed.
Patrice released me, and I gave her a warm smile. “I’m happy to help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
Patrice nodded, her lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back another rush of tears. “Thank you. I’ll see you after class.”
“See you then.” I lifted a hand in a wave as I headed inside.
“You’re late.” Seraphina’s words cracked in the echoey space.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. I was literally one minute late. “I’m sorry. I was talking to Annabeth’s mother.”
“I saw. What was that all about?”
My gaze traveled to the studio space where Annabeth was diligently practicing her positions. “Her husband lost his job, and they won’t be able to pay for ballet lessons anymore.”
Seraphina grimaced. “Then what is she doing here?” Seraphina gestured to the young girl in the studio, the movement causing the gauzy sleeves of her blouse to billow.
Seraphina was not the warm and fuzzy type. Why she had decided to open a ballet studio to teach children was beyond me. I got the sense that she was someone who had been turned bitter by a dream left unfulfilled. She often spoke of her time in New York, though I wasn’t sure how much of it was true. I knew for sure that Seraphina wasn’t her real name. Her driver’s license read Sally. But who was I to judge? It wasn’t like Kennedy Charles was my birth name either.
I twisted the strap of my bag in my fingers. “Just take her class fees out of my pay.”
Seraphina’s gaze narrowed on me. “I’m not giving you a discount.”
Of course, she wasn’t. “That’s fine.”
“All right. Now, get to work. I don’t pay you to chit-chat.” She turned on her heel and glided towards her office.
I let out a breath. One problem solved. Hopefully, the rest would stay at bay, and I would be left to my blank-canvas life.
8
Cain
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I eased my feet into the icy-cold lake water. Pulling out my cell, I grimaced at the screen. Not even seventy-two hours of peace. “Hello, Rachel.”
“Cain.” Her voice was a hushed whisper, and there was an urgency to the single word she spoke.
“What’s wrong?” God, I didn’t want to fly back to Portland already.
There was the sound of a door shutting before Rachel continued speaking. “I think someone was nosing around your office.”
My spine stiffened. “What makes you say that?”
“I’ve been placing non-urgent files that need your attention in there. I figured you could handle them whenever you returned, or I’d bring them out to you. Anyway, when I went to add another file to the stack this afternoon, they were all out of order.”
“Are you sure?”
Rachel scoffed. “Cain, please.”
Of course, she was sure. Rachel was one of the most organized people I had ever met. There was always a method to her madness. “Start locking my office.” I shou
ld’ve made that arrangement as soon as I’d known I’d be gone for an extended period of time.
Rachel was silent for a moment. “Maybe you should think about coming back.”
I looked out at the lake around me and flexed my feet in the soothing water. It was the first bit of peace I’d felt in years. “I won’t be returning anytime soon.”
“You like it there.” Rachel’s voice gentled. She’d always taken her job as my assistant to the extreme, seeing it as her responsibility to look out for me.
“I do. But you’re right that we need to take precautions.” My office was on a floor that housed only a handful of others, and everyone with access had the highest security clearance. “Did you ask Jake if he went in there, looking for something?” He never asked permission and always messed up whatever system Rachel had going.
She let out a huff. “I did. He swears he wasn’t in there. But there’s something else.” I said nothing, letting the silence encourage Rachel to continue. “Pete said someone tried to hack our systems yesterday.”
My grip on the phone tightened. That wasn’t anything new. Corporate espionage and trying to sneak in through back doors was just the name of the game when you were at the top. There were whispers in the community that I was working on a new program, one that would revolutionize security systems at every level. If my competitors got their hands on that before we made it to market, it could be a death blow to everything I’d built with Halo.
Rachel pressed on in that same hushed tone. “He’s been working on it all morning. He said whoever it was knew what they were doing. They almost got in.”
My jaw made that familiar clicking noise as my teeth ground together. This was not good. We hadn’t had a close call like this…ever. Why the hell hadn’t he notified me immediately? “Have him call me, now. And I’ll check out the system from here.” I pushed to my feet, losing the calming presence the water had brought. “And I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. Call me if you notice anyone acting suspicious.”
Beautifully Broken Control (The Sutter Lake Series Book 4) Page 6
