The plan to include Ayers tonight backfired. Instead of showing him what it looks like to move on, I'm back on his radar. Not where I want to be. Not if he plans to talk to the press again. The scandal has finally been forgotten, and I'd hate for it to be drug back up.
Monica is a part of my past, and she needs to stay there. Or, rather, stay where she is right now. He'll never find her. No one will. Garcia and I made sure of that. We took every precaution, bought the silence of every party involved, and made her disappearance look like she ran away.
You can't find someone if they don't want to be found. And if you ask me, Monica left me and doesn't want to be found. That's been my story. That'll remain my story. Thankfully, Garcia will back me up.
Speaking of, I'm going to have to talk to him about his partner. He needs to put his ass in check again. For the amount of money I pay him, the least he can do is keep Ayers off my back and away from Amelia.
Nineteen
Amelia
For as much fun as we had locking ourselves inside over the weekend, I couldn’t shake the feeling Johnathan was keeping something from me. It all started after that reporter followed us home from the country club.
He was… off.
Tense.
Anger radiated off his skin. Even while he made love to me, I could feel him holding back his aggression.
Then I woke up in the middle of the night, and he wasn’t in bed. The entire house was dark except for a ray of light coming from under his office door. I stood outside the door for five minutes, my hand poised to knock, before I decided against it and crawled back in bed.
He was having a hushed conversation with someone. At two o’clock in the morning.
But sleep evaded me.
I was still awake when Johnathan crawled in next to me, pulling me into his arms, just before the sun started to shine through the windows. Day was upon us. I was exhausted from worrying all night.
Was it me? Did he not want to marry me?
Work? Was something going on at the office? Was his campaign in jeopardy?
My mind wouldn’t shut down. A million possibilities played on repeat until I finally crawled out of his sleeping embrace and went in search of coffee. It was an hour before he joined me, his entrance startling me, causing me to spill my untouched coffee on my hands.
Thankfully it had cooled by then.
“Why are you so on edge this morning?” he inquired, tossing me a towel to mop of the countertop.
“I didn’t sleep well.” My words were harsh even though I didn’t mean them to be.
“I’m sorry.” He took the towel from my hands and set it aside. Pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head, he holds me for a long moment before continuing. “I had to get a few things done last night. I promise it’ll just be us the rest of the weekend. Deal?”
But it wasn’t a deal. He snuck out of bed Saturday and Sunday night as well. I didn’t bother to go look for him. I knew where I’d find him and, instead, forced myself to go back to sleep. Sleep that brought with it dreams of doubt and insecurity.
So, this morning, as I stand and watch my future husband slip into his suit jacket, almost ready to head to the office for the day, I give myself a pep talk.
We’re going to be married. I have a right to ask questions. He needs to talk to me, to share with me if something is wrong.
“Before you go,” I start, “I need to ask you something.”
Johnathan continues to stare at himself in the mirror as he adjusts his tie, pushing it until it’s tight around his neck before loosening it slightly.
“What, Amelia? I don’t have time for this right now. I’m already running behind.”
Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. The anger in his voice is unnerving.
“If you were having doubts about us, you’d tell me, right? I mean, I know you proposed and all but…” I rattle on, and he lets me. I let go of every insecurity I’ve felt all weekend long, and all he does is stare at himself in the mirror.
He finally raises his hand as a sign for me to stop.
“If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have asked. I don’t do things on a whim. Especially things that are forever. Whatever is going on in your head, let it go.”
Hard to do when you sound pissed off at me for even asking.
I want to say it out loud, but I don’t. If asking him if he was sure didn’t sit well with him, pointing out the fact he sounds abrasive and hateful instead of loving and kind isn’t going to sway him in the direction I was hoping for.
“Now,” he continues, walking past me and into our bedroom, “I have to get to the office. I’m already late for a meeting.”
And then he’s gone. No goodbye kiss. No have a nice day.
As I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my phone vibrates in my hand, startling me. I wasn’t even aware I was clutching it so tightly.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: At noon, walk down the beach, heading east. I’ll meet you once you’re far enough away from the house.
What the fuck. Who in their right mind would meet a stranger, on a deserted beach, alone. I may be able to throw a punch and protect myself, but I’m not stupid.
ME: Who is this?
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You can trust me. I have information on your future husband.
ME: Tell me who this is or I’m not meeting you.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Detective Micah Ayers.
I’m not surprised. The look in his eyes after Johnathan and I got engaged was murderous, and it was directed at Johnathan, not me. The look he gave me was of sympathy and concern. I’m sure he has plenty he can tell me about my future husband, but how much of it is actually true is the question.
ME: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
AYERS: All I need is five minutes.
The weather is warming up. It would be a great day for a walk, and it’s not like I have anything else to do today. If this wasn’t going against Johnathan’s wishes, I probably wouldn’t hesitate. He’s a cop. He’s the good guys.
He also has an issue with my future husband for some unknown reason. And he was fighting with his partner when I was in the bathroom. Maybe Ayers is the problem, not Johnathan.
ME: Five minutes.
AYERS: Delete this message.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I delete the message. Why am I listening to him?
Shaking off the uneasy feeling his text and our upcoming meeting has given me, I go about picking up the house. Once the sheets are changed and the laundry is started, I check the clock.
Two more hours.
So I press Johnathan’s shirts and hang them in the closet.
Only thirty more minutes have passed. Time is standing still.
Hopping in the shower, I hear my phone ring as soon as I step under the spray. Ignoring it, I begin washing my hair when it rings again and continues to ring until I rinse my hair and step out to answer it.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Johnathan calmly asks. There’s a sense of urgency in his voice, but it lacks panic like I would expect if he thought something was actually wrong with me.
“I was in the shower. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to apologize for being short with you this morning. It wasn’t your fault I was in a bad mood.”
No shit! I generally know when I’ve done something wrong, and I’ve learned to stay inside the boundaries of Johnathan Land since moving in with him.
“It’s fine. Thank you for apologizing. Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of showering and I’m freezing.”
I didn’t bother to wrap a towel around me, assuming it would be a quick call. The floor around me is getting soaked with water as it drips from my hair and shivering body.
“Of course. I love you, Amelia.”
“Love you too,” I say before hanging up and jumping back in the shower, where I stand under the spray for a few minutes to warm my body.
After I dress and clean up my mess on the f
loor of the bathroom, I sense I’m being watched. The house is eerily silent, the only sound coming from the dishwasher in the kitchen.
Pushing my paranoia aside, I grab my phone and slip out the back sliding glass doors. I’m expecting to see Ayers standing on the patio, waiting on me, but he’s nowhere in sight.
My phone rings in my hand as I step onto the cool sand.
Johnathan again.
He doesn’t normally call me during the day unless something is going on.
“Hey,” I warmly greet him as I make my way down to the water.
“You never called me back,” he says, forgoing any type of greeting.
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“What are you doing that’s so important you forgot to call me back?”
“I cleaned up my mess in the bathroom and now I’m taking a walk on the beach.”
“Why?”
Does he know? It’s not like I’ve never gone for a walk before. It’s not like I don’t leave the house alone from time to time. There’s not much to do during the day around here. I even tried to get a job after I got here, but Johnathan begged me to stay home, to relax and enjoy not having to work.
Singing didn’t feel like work, though. And I miss singing.
Still, I gave in because it made him happy. Because it meant that he came home to a meal on the table, his shirts pressed, and clean a house. I wanted to take care of him, make sure he was happy, because he was doing the same for me.
“It’s beautiful out, and I needed fresh air,” I lie. I’ve never lied to him before. The idea feels foreign, yet the words slip past my lips effortlessly.
“Be careful.”
Careful? Nothing is going to happen to me. The only people on the beach for a mile in either direction should be residents. We live in a private area.
“I will.”
“Before I let you go, I have some bad news,” he suddenly says. “I have to go to Houston tonight for a few days. Would you like to come with me? Maybe visit your parents. Give them the good news.”
The thought makes my stomach churn.
“Um, I was thinking I should try and call them and talk to them first. I’m sure they’ve already seen the news. They know we’re engaged. Showing up will only make things worse.”
An image of my mother’s shocked expression flashes before me, followed by my father’s look of disappointment. They were angry the last time I saw them. We haven’t spoken since. Yet I still know I need to be the one to call them, to talk to them, before I show up with a huge rock on my hand.
It’s my best chance at earning their forgiveness.
“Okay. Can you pack me a bag when you get back from your walk? I’ll be home in an hour to pick it up so I can catch my flight.”
“Sure. See you soon.”
After hanging up with Johnathan, I take in my surroundings. I’ve walked a few houses down from his, from ours. The water is calm today, the sun glistening off the semi-flat surface.
“Did you tell him you were meeting me?” a deep voice asks from behind me.
Detective Ayers.
I want to turn around, to see what story his green eyes tell me today, but I don’t.
Ayers is the kind of man I would describe as panty-melting. With his longer, unkempt hair. His broad, muscular shoulders. A tight ass that I snuck a peek at the other night.
The real kicker is his passion. I can tell he wears his heart on his sleeve. It drives every action he takes. Every decision he makes. The conviction in his voice when he speaks is because the words that follow are from the heart.
And that sexy, deep voice is a clear indication of his power and strength.
All qualities I used to look for in a man.
Then I found Johnathan, who also possesses most of those qualities, and stopped paying attention.
For the most part.
“No. He has to leave town on business, so you need to make this quick. He needs me to pack his bag for him and have it waiting.”
“Where’s he going?”
“What is it that you want to tell me?”
“You can’t marry Johnathan, Amelia. You need to walk away before you get hurt. He’s not the man you think he is.”
“I get it. You don’t like him. Fine. Whatever issues you two have with each other is your problem, not mine.”
“That’s what you don’t get. If you stay with him—”
“If I stay with him,” I repeat, cutting him off mid-sentence as I finally turn to face him. As expected, his eyes are on fire when they finally meet mine. “I don’t plan on leaving him, Detective. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“Are you sure about that?”
The tension between us is mounting, and when he takes a step closer to me and places his hand on my shoulder, my body shudders at the electric charge we exchange. My eyes fall to his hand, but he doesn’t make a move to remove it from my body.
“All I know right now is how I feel.” My words lack the confidence I wanted them to have.
“And how is that?”
“Like…” God. How do I even explain it? “I’m happy.” A lie. “I’m ready to move forward with my life. You being here, calling me and asking me to meet you, that’s the only thing that doesn’t make me happy.” Another lie. “So please, leave us alone.”
“Can I at least—”
“No, because no matter what you say, I’m not changing my mind.”
His shoulders sag forward as he removes his hand from my shoulder, taking a step back. “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
As Ayers disappears around the side of a house, an uneasy feeling washes over me. Maybe I should have listened to him. At least heard what he had to say.
Or maybe he’s just trying to ruin Johnathan’s life and using me in the process.
Twenty
Johnathan
Mendez is fucking things up.
The asshole can’t even do his job right. I’m not taking the fall for his stupidity. He can man up. Just because I haven’t been able to produce any new leads doesn’t mean the operation needs to shut down.
We always find a way.
There are always options. He’s just not looking in the right places.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself by thinking about Amelia. Watching her shower was the highlight of my morning. Before everything went to shit.
I’m going to have to go to Houston. We need a meeting. One where he understands what the expectations are and learns to live up to them. We’re supposed to be equals, but he seems to think he’s in charge.
I have news for him. He’s not. He answers to me. There’s a reason he calls me when shit hits the fan. It’s the only time he realizes his place. One step above the no-name associates. Within the hierarchy, he’s a nameless, faceless man.
I’m not.
Everyone knows who I am when I walk in the room. They respect my position in the organization. Not because I’m a senator, but because I get shit done. I do my part to bring in money.
Mendez would be wise to remember that.
I shoot Garcia a text, and I’m about to call Amelia and let her know when I get an alert on my phone that the back door has been opened. Quickly pulling up the camera that faces the patio, I see Amelia walking away from the house. She’s dressed in a plain yellow sundress, her hair pinned back the way I like it.
She’s clutching her phone in her hand nervously.
When I call her, she sounds surprised to hear from me. She should. If she knew I could watch her every move throughout the day… well, I don’t want to think about it. It’s my security. To ensure she minds her own business. To make sure she stays out of my office and does as I ask of her.
Walking alone on the beach is not something I would have approved of if I had known. It might be a private beach, but there are plenty of ways for people to get there. People who don’t belong. People with agendas.
So I make sure she doesn’t go too far for too long
by asking her to pack me a bag. My plane won’t leave until later tonight, but she doesn’t need to know that. I’ll make time to pick it up on my way to meet my father for lunch. He has his own agenda today. One I’m sure I’m not going to like by the sound of his voice when he called me on my drive in this morning.
You would think he’d let me make my own way. I’ve proven I’m capable, but he likes to meddle. If he hadn’t lost his Senate race when I was younger, maybe he would back off, but that wasn’t the case. Now he lives vicariously through me.
I watch the monitor until I see Amelia jog back into view fifteen minutes later. Once she’s safely inside the house, I switch cameras and follow her around for a few minutes before I leave the office and head to pick up my bag. Like the good wife she’s going to be, she has it ready and waiting by the door for me.
“I’m going to lunch with my father and then straight to the airport. It’s only for a few nights. Since you don’t want to come with me, how would you feel about staying with my parents? I know my mother would love it if you spent more time with her.”
“I’ll be fine here. The weather is going to be perfect to relax outside with a good book.”
She’s avoiding eye contact with me, her hands fidgeting at the hem of her sundress. Something is off. Something happened after I left this morning.
A good husband would probe her with questions. He’d seek answers. He’d be concerned that his soon-to-be-wife was acting unusual.
And once our vows are said, I will play the part of the good husband. Until then, I don’t have time for this. It has nothing to do with my lack of concern. I don’t want to push her away. When I want answers, I get them. Every single time.
The way I get answers would have her running away, though, and I can’t have that.
A long, deep kiss and I’m out the door. My father is more impatient than I am, and he’s going to be angry if I show up even a moment late to our meeting. Even though he called it at the last minute.
He’s waiting for me at a table in the far corner of the country club dining room. When he catches sight of me, he taps the face of his expensive Rolex and shakes his head.
Caught in the Storm Page 14
