Retrieval

by Aly Martinez

  Too heavy.

  Too thick.

  Too bulky.

  Until Rubicon.

  One day, I woke up miserable, alone, and broke.

  The next, I woke up miserable, alone, and in the running for Time magazine’s man of the year.

  In a matter of months of going live with our product, Leblanc Industries had revolutionized the entire market—if not the world.

  And it was exactly why Mr. Wells was beating my door down in order to save his own business. People weren’t buying his second-rate products anymore, and as the days passed, Defender Armor fell deeper and deeper into the hole.

  Now, he was hoping I could save his ass.

  But I’d never been known as a philanthropist.

  And his idle threats only served to piss me off.

  He had no fucking clue what he was talking about when it came to my sales. Because, if he did, he’d have known that I sold Rubicon to the military for a quarter of what he was offering me. But the difference was the military wasn’t using my product in flak jackets and then selling it at four times what they’d paid, which was exactly what Wells was planning to do.

  The Army was using it to save lives. If I hadn’t had employees who needed to be paid, I would have given it to the government at cost. I’d watched too many good soldiers die during my time in service not to want our men and women equipped with the very best. I would have loved to arm our police forces with it as well, but that did not mean giving my product away so another company could profit from it.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have the facility readily available to make the body armor. And Wells didn’t have my product. We were at a stalemate.

  He couldn’t afford me. And I couldn’t go at it alone—at least, not yet.

  The good news for me was that Rubicon had dozens of other uses that kept our bank accounts overflowing. And, as far as I knew, bulletproof vests were a rather niche market.

  He needed me far more than I’d ever need him.

  “This is ludicrous!” Wells growled.

  I nodded matter-of-factly. “I agree. Now, get the hell out and don’t come back unless you’re ready to sign my contracts. No revisions.”

  His eyes burned into me as he finally moved toward the door, pausing just before leaving. “You know, I expected more from you. Former soldier, now CEO. I love a rags-to-riches story just as much as the next guy. It does the whole world well to be reminded that hard work pays off. But then there are men like you who disgrace us all by allowing the money and power to go to your head. It’d do you well to remember where you came from, because if you keep this up, I have a feeling you’ll be back in that dingy garage lab sooner than you think.”

  My lips thinned, but I took a step forward, once again extending my hand for a shake. “Then perhaps it’s good that I’ll have you to save me a spot in the unemployment line.”

  The vein in his forehead bulged as he nearly vibrated with anger. “You—”

  Turning, I gave him my back and strolled back to my desk. “Have a good day, Simon.”

  Moments later, the door to my office slammed and my whole body sagged.

  “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”

  The intercom on my phone buzzed immediately. “Mr. Leblanc, your sister is on line one. She’s been calling for the last hour and says it’s important.”

  Fucking great. I loved my sister, but Kristen had exactly two speeds in our relationship: bitch at me or bitch to me. And, considering we’d had dinner the night before and she’d bitched to me for nearly three hours about a dickhead she’d slept with and then he hadn’t returned her calls, I figured her calling with something important meant I was going to get bitched at.

  I groaned, preparing for whatever shitstorm she was about to drop at my feet.

  “What’s up, Kit-Kat?” I asked, after lifting the receiver to my ear.

  “Oh, don’t you dare ‘Kit-Kat’ me.”

  Yep. Bitch-at-me mode.

  I switched the phone to my other ear and wedged it against my shoulder as I fired my computer up. “I’m seriously not in the mood to take your shit tonight. I’ve had an old man up my ass all fucking day. I really don’t need you joining him.”

  “I just got off the phone with Elisabeth. She’s getting remarried.”

  My body solidified, causing the phone to fall from my ear. Scrambling after it, I ignored the way my chest constricted.

  I reminded myself that it was what I’d always wanted for her—to find someone who made her happy and could give her the things I never could. I just hadn’t considered how much it’d hurt when it finally happened.

  Slowly lifting the phone back to my ear, I licked my lips and opened my mouth, but not a single word escaped.

  “Roman?” she probed.

  I cleared my throat, strapping on the false bravado. “Good for her. This is important to me how?”

  “You have to stop sending her checks. Her fiancé is livid about it.”

  Now, that made me smile. “Sounds like a personal problem. That money is hers. If her man has a problem with her past, I’d be happy to have a talk with him. Set him straight.” Before I killed him.

  I swear I heard her roll her eyes from across the line.

  “Right,” she said. “Just what every woman wants. The new guy having a chat with the old guy. Especially when the old guy is still in love with you.”

  “I’m not still in love with her,” I growled. That would imply I’d ever been out of love with her. “And this is not my problem. So, if that’s all you called to say, I need to get back to work.” Or, more likely, down a bottle of scotch.

  “Damn it, Roman. Okay. I lied. She’s not getting remarried. After the shit you pulled, I’m doubting she ever will.”

  The second sucker-punch hit me square in the gut. I hated the idea of Elisabeth actually moving on with someone new, but I hated the idea of her being alone even more.

  “Excuse me?” I bit out. “The shit I pulled? She left me. So get off your high horse and get to the point where I’m supposed to care right now. I’m not doing anything wrong by sending her money that is rightfully and legally hers.”

  “It’s not legally hers! You made certain of that.”

  That I did. And I’d never forget the agonizing pain on her face when I’d told her that, in exchange for her fifty percent of Leblanc Industries, she could keep everything else.

  The house.

  The furniture.

  The cars.

  The dog.

  Tripp.

  She had gotten our entire lives.

  I’d walked away with a suitcase—and the yet-to-be-developed Rubicon.

  “Yeah, well…I’m feeling generous. Besides, judging by that piece of shit she’s still driving, she needs it.”

  “Aaaand…how the hell do you know what she drives?”

  Because I’ve driven by our old house enough times over the last two years to wear potholes in the roads. “I saw it parked at the cemetery the other day.”

  She gasped. “You went to the cemetery?”

  “For fuck’s sake, don’t sound so surprised. He was my son.”

  “Was he? Because, if I remember correctly, when she finally buried the urn last winter, you were nowhere to be found.”

  “I was working!” I defended. It was a lie. But there was no way I was copping to what I’d really been doing that day. Not even to my sister.

  “You’re always working, Roman! I had to make an appointment with your secretary a month ago so we could have dinner last night.”

  “Okay, so now you’re bitching at me because I work too much?”

  She drew in a sharp breath and then demanded, “Stop with the checks. She’s finally getting her shit back together, and you’re just making it harder. I swear to God, if you ever loved her, then you’ll stop this bullshit right now. You signed the divorce papers two years ago, Roman. Let. Her. Go.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. She was right, but it ate a hole through my so
ul to think about Elisabeth wanting for anything. Wife or not. Just because our marriage hadn’t worked out didn’t mean I didn’t still care about her. But there was only so much I could do. I’d lucked out and been able to pay the house off, but only because she hadn’t been able to afford to remove me from the deed yet. Short of dropping briefcases of cash on her porch, my options were limited.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew she hadn’t cashed any of the checks I’d mailed her. But there was a level of comfort in knowing that the next one was in the mail. She hated me, and she was stubborn as hell. But she was at least reasonable. If she got desperate, she’d swallow her pride and cash it. And that knowledge was the only reason I slept at night.

  “I’ll consider it,” I lied.

  “You’ll consider it?” she yelled. “There’s nothing to consider, Roman. Stop sending her the checks!”

  I shook my head and pushed back from my desk. “Look, I need to go. See what you can do about getting her to cash that last one and I’ll consider stopping.”

  “She’s not gonna cash—”

  “Then convince her,” I ordered, standing up and digging my wallet and keys from my desk drawer. “She’s shit at selling houses. I looked it up—she only sold four last year. Her specialty is interior design, not real estate. If I know her at all, she probably treats them like puppies and falls in love with each house, refusing to sell them to owners she deems unfit. Kit, she needs that money. We both know it.”

  She was silent for several beats, and then she let out a groan of frustration. “Were you dropped as a child?”

  I grinned, knowing I’d won. Kristen was quite possibly the only person in the world who could convince Elisabeth to accept money from me. Hell, if Kristen got her mind set on it, she could negotiate world peace. The woman was pushy as shit. I credited my skills in negotiating business deals to having grown up with her. We hadn’t had conversations around the dinner table—we’d had debates. And, judging by the ease in which she’d given in during this little spat, it meant she had agreed that I should have been sending Elisabeth that money before she’d even called.

  “No more than you were,” I smarted back.

  “Shit. Maybe that’s our problem,” she whispered.

  “Could be. Now, I really need to go. We’ll talk soon.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I’ll probably talk to your secretary first.”

  I shoved a hand in my pocket and smirked. “Probably.”

  “About time you showed up,” Luke said, spinning in his chair as I walked into the gym with Tessa on my hip.

  I peeked over my shoulder at the childcare room. “Yeah…uh…please tell me there’s someone in there still.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, moving around the counter.

  “Thank God,” I breathed, my shoulders drooping in relief. “Sorry I’m late. I…um…lost track of time.” I swallowed hard, fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice.

  It was bad enough that my eyes were bloodshot from crying. I couldn’t hide that any more than I could the gash in my hairline being held together with three butterfly bandages, but the last thing I wanted was to talk about it, so I needed to at least sound okay.

  The gym was my escape. I hated working out as much as the next girl, but it was the only place I was able to erase the rest of my fucked-up life.

  Tessa lunged from my arms, diving toward Luke.

  He eagerly caught her and poked her belly, blowing a raspberry against her cheek. He was so good with her. Too good, probably.

  I gently pulled her back into my arms and smoothed her blond curls down as I avoided his gaze. “Do you still have time for me tonight? I mean…I can always reschedule. Maybe I’ll just work on cardio. I could use some time—”

  He interrupted my rambling with a loud laugh. “Nope. Not happening. Give it up now, Clare. You’re not getting out of leg day.”

  “Right. Leg day,” I mumbled under my breath.

  My whole body ached, my ribs were screaming just from holding Tessa, and the bruises on my thighs were probably already purple, but I would have spent my entire life doing legs if it meant I didn’t have to go home.

  My chin quivered as I finally looked up into his kind eyes.

  He was almost successful in hiding his flinch. He sucked in a hard breath and blew it out on a curse. “Jesus, Clare,” he whispered, aiming a comforting hand at my shoulder.

  I ducked out of his reach. The gym might have been my sanctuary, but I wasn’t free there. Someone was watching me.

  Always watching.

  “Legs. We should probably get started,” I squeaked.

  His handsome face hardened as he crossed his thick arms over his chest. “Maybe we should go to my office and go over your meal plan instead.”

  I shook my head and wiped a stray tear off my cheek with my shoulder. “We just made a new meal plan last week. It’s leg day, Luke.” I curved my lips up in something I hoped would pass as a smile. “We do legs on leg day.”

  The muscles on his jaw ticked as he stared at me, pity filling his eyes until he finally relented, raking a hand through his dark-blond hair. “Son of a bitch.” He tipped his chin toward the childcare door. “Go. Get her settled. I’ll meet you over at the mats.”

  Luke had been my personal trainer for three months, and in that time, he’d learned the gig. I could tell it killed him each time I came into the gym with fresh injuries or tear-stained cheeks. But he kept his opinions to himself and read between the lines, never pressuring me to spill my guts but asking just enough questions to remind me that decent people existed.

  He was an incredibly nice guy. And, in another life, I would have even gone so far as to say he was sexy, too. But I didn’t live in a world where I was allowed to focus on anything but keeping myself alive and my daughter safe. He was only filling in for Cindy until she got back from maternity leave. And, truthfully, Walt probably already wanted to kill him just for having contact with me, but I’d have done whatever I had to in order to keep him off my husband’s radar. And that included leg day.

  Walt was insistent that I keep myself in shape, but he hated when I spent too much time outside the house.

  And he really hated it when I took Tessa with me.

  I’d always thought he feared that, if I had her with me, I might never come back.

  And he would have been absolutely correct.

  There was nothing I wouldn’t have done to get away from him.

  Anything except actually leaving.

  I’d tried that twice. And the scars of those nights still covered my body, both inside and out.

  Turning him in to the police wasn’t an option, either, though. He’d made sure I had more than enough of his sludge on my hands to put me away for life.

  And then where would that have left Tessa? Alone with a monster.

  I’d never wanted children with Walt, but he had been adamant that we start a family. And, as his wife, it had been my duty to provide him with one.

  I’d cried month after month when those pregnancy tests had come back negative—they were tears of joy. I hated my life, and the thought of forcing an innocent child to join me in Hell seemed like a tragedy.

  Unfortunately, Walt took our problems to the professionals.

  I’d never forget how numb I felt as a reproductive endocrinologist smiled at me from across the desk, promising he’d help us.

  I sobbed, hoping he couldn’t.

  After a round of in vitro fertilization, in which two embryos were transferred into my uterus, I prayed harder than ever before that it wouldn’t take.

  But I guessed God wasn’t taking requests that day.

  Nine months later, we welcomed Tessa into our lives.

  It wasn’t fair to her. But I’d have done it all over again. That little girl saved my life.

  And, no matter how long it would take me, I’d find a way to save hers.

  After dropping Tessa off, I stiffly made my way over to the mats.

  “Change of pl
ans. It’s arm day,” Luke announced.

  I winced, lowering myself to the mat. “I appreciate the concern. But I assure you legs would be easier.”

  He frowned and then cracked his neck. “Okay. Then measurements. We haven’t done your measurements yet this week. Let’s go to my office and—”

  “Enough!” I hissed. There were so few things within my control. I’d be damned if working out wasn’t one of them. “It’s fucking leg day, Luke. Can we please just stretch and get started?”

  He blinked but otherwise remained unfazed by my outburst—until he whispered, “Clare…”

  I spread my legs, folded over to one side, pressing my nose as close to my knee as my aching body would allow, and changed the subject. “I was sore yesterday. I should have taken Sunday off. Maybe we can implement yoga back into my workouts.”

  “Let me help you,” he whispered, but we both knew he wasn’t talking about stretches.

  I barked a laugh. It felt just as hollow as it sounded. “I don’t need a friend, Luke.”

  I needed a friend more than words could adequately express. But I wasn’t going to find it in a personal trainer who had no idea what the hell he was getting into. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by while he fell down the rabbit hole trying to rescue me.

  “Please. Do us both a favor and mind your own business.”

  The muscles at the base of his neck strained, but very slowly, he lowered himself to the mat beside me and began stretching, too.

  Then he watched for over an hour as I cried through most of our workout.

  It hurt like hell, but the most painful part was knowing that, when it ended, I’d be forced to get Tessa and head back home.

  “There she is,” he said as I pulled Tessa from her highchair.

  I froze and set her back down, my entire body going on alert at the deep rumble of his voice.

  He wasn’t supposed to be there. His BMW wasn’t in the driveway when I’d gotten home from the gym. And I hadn’t heard him come in. Which meant he’d been in the house the whole time. Oh God, what did I do that he could have seen?