Trusting Taylor (Silverstone)

by Susan Stoker

  It took Eagle a second, then he smiled. “Exactly.”

  “Right, so I’m a proofreader.”

  “I’m gonna be crass here, but it’s just because I’m curious . . . does it pay well?”

  Taylor didn’t take offense. “Not at first. I took whatever jobs I could get, but after a while, I got a reputation for being superpicky, which is good for a proofreader. I got more and more work, and could raise my rates accordingly. I was working independently for a long time, but then got hired on by a textbook company. But I’ll still proof just about anything. Websites, pamphlets, signs, books, speeches.”

  “Wow, that sounds interesting,” Eagle told her.

  Taylor chuckled. “It can be. But it’s also really boring sometimes too. I remember when I had to proofread a biochem textbook. I thought I would never get through that thing.”

  “And it’s something you can do from home,” Eagle said with uncanny insight.

  “Yeah. I’ve gotten really close to some of the people I work for, but I’ll never go to any book conferences or anything. No one would understand how I could be so friendly online and completely standoffish in person. They’d think I was ignoring them, and it could hurt my business.”

  “I’m sure if they understood . . . ,” Eagle started.

  Taylor shook her head. “They don’t. Think of your best friend,” she requested. “Now, imagine coming face to face with them, and you have no idea who he is, even though you’ve spent hours and hours together, drinking, shooting the shit . . . doing whatever guys do when they hang out. How would that make you feel?”

  “It would be hard,” Eagle said without hesitation. “But if he was a true friend, someone who cared about me and loved me as I was, we’d have talked about my condition, and I’m guessing he’d just tell me who he was, and we’d continue on as normal.”

  “That’s really easy to say, but it’s not so easy for people to do time after time after time after time.”

  “Wrong,” Eagle told her, stepping closer. But Taylor wasn’t scared of him being in her personal space. She trusted him not to physically hurt her in a public place, like the middle of the cereal aisle in the grocery store. “It’s not hard at all. When someone has a disability or a condition they were born with, like you were, true friends learn to do whatever’s necessary to make each other comfortable. You adapt. For instance, from here on out, when we see each other after being apart, I’ll call you Flower so you’ll know who I am.”

  “And who are you?”

  “I’m a man who sees you, Taylor. I see your distrust and your wariness, and I don’t like it, even though I understand it. You know why I’m called Eagle?”

  “No.”

  “Because I’m eagle eyed. I see everything. I know everyone. And I see you, Taylor. And I like who I see.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she protested.

  “I know you’re tough as hell. You’d have to be. You’re funny and compassionate, but you keep the real you buttoned down in public. I’d like to get to know the Taylor you are when you’re by yourself. When you don’t have to worry about who you know and who you don’t.”

  “I’m nothing special,” she told him.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “My mom gave me up when I was two,” she blurted. “I guess I cried all the time. She couldn’t deal with the fact that I couldn’t recognize her. I’m sure it made it easier for her to separate herself from me emotionally.”

  “That’s on her, not on you,” Eagle told her. “And I hate that it’s made you look at yourself differently. You say you’re nothing special, but I firmly believe those people who’ve had the roughest times growing up end up being the most extraordinary adults. So . . . Flower,” he repeated. “When you see me, that’s what I’ll call you so you’ll know it’s me.” He grinned. “And not the flour you helped me buy,” he clarified, adorably pointing out the homophone. “The way I see it, you’re like a flower . . . an evening primrose. It’s a flower that blossoms only at night, in the dark. You hide yourself away because of the way people treat you . . . but you still blossom. And I can’t exactly go around calling you all-purpose flour.” He winked. “So flower—meaning the beautiful plant—will have to be our code word instead.”

  Taylor swallowed hard and forced herself to take a step backward. He was overwhelming her. He was saying all the right things, but she’d heard them before. People telling her that her disability didn’t matter. But eventually, it did matter. Girlfriends when she was in grade school, boys she’d dated, even a few clients who she’d opened up to . . . they’d all let her down.

  “If we’re going to get through this list of yours anytime soon, we’d better get on it,” she said shakily, ignoring the whole flower thing.

  For a second she didn’t think Eagle was going to let it go. But he finally nodded. “Okay, Taylor. I can take a hint. You’ll learn that I never say anything I don’t mean.” Then he grabbed ahold of his cart and continued down the aisle, throwing some oatmeal and Cheerios into his basket.

  Taking a deep breath, she followed him.

  Flower.

  The man in front of her was lethal. Smart. Funny. Considerate. She had a feeling she was in big trouble.

  Brett Williams let himself into the home he shared with his mother and went straight to the basement. Anticipation flowed through his veins. It had been a while since he’d found a woman who’d interested him as much as the one today at the store.

  Taylor Cardin.

  He’d overheard her attempting to explain her disability to the officers.

  Prosopagnosia.

  He’d never heard of it, but the second he’d gotten into his car and looked it up on his phone, he’d known she was the one.

  She didn’t have the ability to recognize faces.

  Which meant if she saw him tomorrow, she wouldn’t know who he was.

  Wouldn’t know that he’d been a witness to the two idiots fighting in the parking lot.

  He would always be a complete stranger to her.

  But he knew who she was.

  Eagerness rolled in his gut. He could have so much fun with her. He could mess with her mind for weeks . . . and she’d have no idea she was in his sights.

  It had been almost seven months since he’d felt the high that came from having a woman completely at his mercy. He’d had the last one for five days, and at first she’d been fun to psychologically torture. She’d been scared out of her mind. It had made him feel incredibly powerful to watch her beg for her life, to see her cry as he’d choked her into unconsciousness time and time again.

  After dumping her body, he’d had to lie low. Give the cops time to run in circles trying to figure out who’d killed her. But now that their investigation had grown cold, it was time.

  He’d found his next plaything.

  Taylor Cardin.

  He could take his sweet time, play cat and mouse. All the while, she’d have no idea she was interacting with a serial killer again and again.

  Smiling with anticipation, Brett looked at the pictures on the wall of his basement sanctuary. Old-school Polaroids of the women he’d killed. There were eleven.

  He couldn’t imagine not remembering them. He could recall every single second with each. How they’d begged. How they’d promised him anything he wanted if he’d just let them go. Every little sound and expression. Their faces were burned into his memory. He thought about them when he jerked off and when he simply needed a good memory to get him through his monotonous days.

  And Taylor would be lucky number twelve.

  Soon, he’d have her picture to add to his remembrance wall. Taylor might never remember his face . . . but he’d always remember hers.

  “This’ll be fun,” he whispered to the sightless eyes staring back at him from the pictures on the wall. “Now to decide where and how to start my game with little Taylor.”

  Chapter Two

  “And then Thomas took a huge bite—and spit it all out o
n the table. That made Christine and Shane gag. Leigh pulled out her phone and called for pizza,” Eagle said.

  Taylor giggled. “Are you lying?”

  “Swear I’m not.”

  “How can you mess up spaghetti?” Taylor asked once she’d gotten herself under control.

  No one had been more surprised than Taylor when Eagle had called her the night after they’d met at the grocery store. He’d asked for her number before they’d gone their separate ways in the parking lot, and she’d surprised herself by giving it to him without hesitation. There was just something about him that intrigued her . . . even if she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of his motives. They’d only talked for about ten minutes during that first call, but then he’d called the next night. And the next. And the next.

  It was now twelve days later, and they’d spoken every evening. She looked forward to their chats more than she wanted to admit.

  “Hey, I’m a pro at screwing up food,” Eagle said with a chuckle. “And . . . I’ll deny this if you tell anyone, but I may or may not purposely mess up sometimes so I don’t get asked to cook again for months.”

  “You’re terrible,” she told him.

  “I know,” Eagle said.

  “Eagle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as if I’ve had a friend. Thank you.” Taylor knew she could be making more out of this . . . whatever this was. This thing between her and Eagle. But she needed to let him know that she appreciated his friendship. “I’ve enjoyed our talks every night.”

  “Me too,” he agreed. “You make me feel more . . . normal.”

  “You don’t usually feel normal?” she inquired, pouring a glass of wine and sitting in the corner of her couch.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  He was silent for a moment, and Taylor was worried about what he was thinking.

  “When I started calling you, I admit that I was mostly curious about your condition. I’ve never met anyone who can do what I can, and the fact that you’re the opposite is intriguing. But after that first call, I realized I didn’t really give a shit about prosopagnosia or super recognizers or anything else. I simply enjoyed talking to you.”

  His admission upset her a little, but when he continued talking, she felt a warmth spread through her body. “Ditto,” she said softly. “My condition shadows everything I do. I know I’m judged for it, even if people deny it. I admit it hurts a little to know that’s why you wanted to talk to me in the first place, but I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I know if that was your only interest, you wouldn’t still be calling me.”

  “I’m sorry. It was a dick thing to do,” Eagle said.

  “It’s fine. You admitted it, which is more than most people would do.”

  “Even though it’s been less than two weeks, I value your friendship,” Eagle told her. “And in light of that . . . I’d like to tell you something about me.”

  “Okay,” Taylor said slowly, not all that thrilled about the sudden serious tone in his voice.

  “Not over the phone,” he said firmly. “If I promise not to cook for you, do you think we could get together?”

  Taylor’s first instinct was to say no. She liked the relationship they had now. Talking on the phone every night. Discussing their day. It was easy. Relaxed. If they started hanging out in person, he would probably get irritated that she couldn’t recognize him.

  “Don’t judge me by the assholes in your past,” he said gruffly.

  “How do you know what I was thinking?” she asked.

  “Because I know you.”

  Those four words were scary as hell. Because he was right. He did know her. She’d opened up to him more in their phone conversations than she had with anyone else in her life. She had no idea what it was about Eagle that made her feel as if she could tell him anything, but it felt good. Really good.

  “Okay,” she said softly, deciding that if their friendship wouldn’t survive face-to-face meetings, it was better to know now rather than down the line, when it would hurt more.

  Hell, who was she kidding? She had a feeling that losing their nighttime talks would hurt plenty, even though it had only been two weeks.

  “Good. I’m going to pick you up tomorrow around five. We’ll come back to Silverstone Towing and eat a meal that Archer prepared. Then we’ll sit and have a talk about what I do. I’ll take you home whenever you want to go.”

  Taylor had to admit she was intrigued. She had no idea what it was Eagle wanted to tell her, but it sounded very secretive. “You don’t have to pick me up,” she told him. “I can drive over.”

  “Nope,” Eagle said definitively. “I’m afraid if you come by yourself, you’ll take one look at the compound and turn around and leave . . . and not take my calls anymore.”

  “Is it that bad? I thought you said Silverstone was doing well.”

  “It is, and we are,” he told her. “But we’ve purposely made the buildings and the grounds look as if we aren’t doing that well . . . to keep ourselves safe from anyone who might think we’d be an easy target for a robbery or other shenanigans.”

  Taylor was definitely intrigued now. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Shenanigans? Who says that?” she teased, and was relieved to hear Eagle chuckle.

  “I do, apparently. And . . . there’s another reason.”

  When he didn’t continue, Taylor asked, “What?”

  “I want to prove to you that your condition doesn’t bother me. That I don’t care if you don’t recognize me when you see me. I’ll use our code word, and we’ll continue on as we have over the last two weeks. Nothing changes, Taylor. I don’t see you as less, and I don’t pity you. Understand?”

  Taylor wanted to agree. Wanted to believe him. But she’d been told that many times before, and ultimately, it always mattered. No one liked being looked at as if they were a stranger. Most guys’ egos couldn’t handle it.

  “I understand,” he continued when she didn’t respond. “I’ll just have to prove it to you. And I can’t do that if we don’t see each other. Five o’clock tomorrow, I’ll be at your door.”

  “You don’t know where I live,” she protested.

  Eagle chuckled. “You’re cute.”

  “You do know where I live?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Do I want to know how you found that out?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Now . . . tell me what you did today. Did you get out of your apartment?”

  Taylor wanted to know now how he could so easily have found her address, but even after just two weeks, she knew Eagle wouldn’t tell her anything until he was damn good and ready. He was stubborn like that. “I did,” she told him. “I had to go to the post office. I have a PO box for my business stuff because it’s more secure than the boxes here at my apartment complex, and I had to both send and pick up projects. I don’t have too many clients who prefer me to mark up paper copies of their work, but when I do, I have to mail them back. So I got to take care of both with one trip, which I liked.”

  “How’d it go?” Eagle asked.

  “Good, actually. I got into a chat with a guy while we were waiting in line. His mom needed stamps, and since she was handicapped and didn’t want to order them online, he was there to help her out.”

  “Nice of him.”

  “It was. Of course, then the guy behind the counter asked me how I was doing and if I had any new cool clients. It was awkward because I had no idea what I’d already told him. I mean, I know that I’ve had discussions about what I do with several of the post office employees, but I didn’t know what I’d told him. So I was vague, as usual, and luckily was done pretty fast.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. Then I got some gas. Grabbed a fast-food burger on my way home, then spent five hours reading a book about an alien with a mail-order bride.”

  “I’m afraid to ask . . . was that a romance b
ook or a sci-fi fantasy?” Eagle asked.

  Taylor laughed. “Romance.”

  “Whew. I take it she wasn’t eaten by the alien, then?”

  “Welllll . . . ,” Taylor drawled.

  Eagle burst out laughing. When he could control himself, he said, “Wow, I walked right into that innuendo, didn’t I?”

  “Yup.”

  “It sounds as if you had a good day.”

  “Yeah. How about you? What’d you do?”

  “I had a meeting with my friends in the morning, and then I went on a couple of runs.”

  “Anything interesting?” Taylor asked.

  “A wreck, a tow because someone was driving on a suspended license, and two disabled vehicles,” Eagle told her.

  “I find it fascinating that someone who used to be in the Special Forces and obviously enjoys a good adrenaline rush can be satisfied with talking about the ins and outs of running a business and the arguably boring job of driving around,” Taylor noted.

  When Eagle didn’t respond, she was afraid she’d offended him. “Eagle?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. It’s about balance,” he told her mysteriously.

  Taylor reminded herself that she didn’t know the man as well as she sometimes felt she did, so she dropped the subject. “Well, since we’ve been talking, I’ve tried to become less of a recluse. I actually leave my apartment at least once a day now, just to get some fresh air. It’s not bungee jumping or skydiving, but it’s as much excitement as I want in my life.”

  Again, she got a weird vibe from Eagle’s long pause, before he said, “I’m glad. Just because you have prosopagnosia doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get out and enjoy all life has to offer.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. I’m going to let you go. But I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon around five.”

  “Okay. Thanks for calling.”

  “Thanks for answering,” Eagle countered.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you will,” Eagle told her.

  Taylor clicked off the phone and remained on the couch, staring off into space for a long minute. Some days she thought she knew who Eagle was, and other days, like today, she had a feeling she didn’t know the first thing about him.