Dirty Little Lies (Dirty Little #2)

by Cassie Cross

  Knowing that we have an extra layer of security thanks to Mia’s skills adds a layer of calm to my still frazzled nerves. We’re taking care of things, but we’re not taking care of them quickly enough for my tastes. I know that we have to be a little patient and take our time to make sure that everything goes smoothly, since one wrong move could trigger mass distribution of those pictures, but I’d rather this be over with sooner rather than later.

  For her part, Corinne said that if the pictures got out, she’d handle it. Obviously, she’d rather that very private part of her life not be released for public consumption, but she’s a resilient young woman. She’ll bounce back from this if she has to.

  Still, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that she doesn’t have to.

  The head of Ben’s security team—the taller guy from last night, whose name I now know is Stuart—stops by before Ben leaves for the office.

  Stuart tells me that I need to go home for a little while today, at least a couple of hours, just in case that psycho blackmailer is actually watching me like he says he is. Stuart doesn’t want me off the grid for too long; he thinks that the more I can keep up with my daily routine, the better.

  His idea is this: He’ll head over to my neighborhood for a good surveillance spot now. Ben’s driver will drop me off in front of my place, before driving Ben to his office. It’ll look to the outside like the sleepover it was. I’ll make my morning coffee run like I usually do, and Stuart will have a guy on me. I’ll go home and work for a few hours like normal, and then Ben can pick me up on his way back from the office.

  “Someone will have eyes on you at all times,” Stuart assures me. I probably look worried out of my mind, which isn’t too far from the truth. “As an extra precautionary measure, you’ll have this.” He takes my hand, and presses a small black fob into my palm.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “A panic button. We’re going to be nearby, but we won’t be in the house with you. If something happens, and I mean if, then I want you to press this red key. We’ll come for you right away.”

  “Okay,” I say, carefully pocketing the fob.

  “I trust your judgment,” Stuart continues. “Please only use this if you absolutely have to. If you’re feeling spooked, I’ve added my cell number to the contact list on your phone. I’ll have that on me at all times. Send me a text if you think there’s something that I need to check out. We don’t want to alert anyone who might be watching that anything is out of the ordinary.”

  I completely understand that. It’s been one of my worries. “If something is scary but not immediately dangerous, I’ll text you.”

  Stuart nods. “I’ll have my phone on me at all times.”

  Ben gently puts his hand on mine. “Promise me you’ll use that.”

  I look at him curiously. “Of course I will.”

  “You were so reluctant to ask for help because you were worried that this guy would realize that something was out of the ordinary; I just wanted to make sure that if push comes to shove you’ll get the help you need, regardless.”

  Ben actually looks a little terrified at the prospect that I might be too concerned about appearances to ask for help when I need it. Given the fact that it took me being on the verge of a nervous breakdown in his office to ask for help with this situation in the first place, I can’t say that I blame him.

  I press my hand against his cheek, then give him a short, chaste kiss. “I promise. I’ll press this button if I think I’m in immediate danger.”

  Ben rests his forehead against mine. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to head out,” Stuart says, interrupting the moment. “I’ll let your driver know when he’s clear to leave. Any questions?”

  I shake my head.

  Ben says, “No.”

  Stuart walks out the front door, and Ben turns to me.

  “I don’t like the idea of you going home alone.”

  I knew this was coming, and honestly, it’s endearing. “I’m just going to do some work there. Me spending the night here with you isn’t out of the ordinary, but me not coming home for days is. I’ll do some work, keep up appearances, and then we’ll meet somewhere for dinner.”

  “I’ll pick you up for dinner,” he says, looking a little more relaxed than he did a minute ago. “I’ve still got some wooing to do.”

  I can’t help but smile. “I’m glad the wooing is still on, considering I broke my other rule.”

  “Wooing you is my pleasure,” he says, leaning in for a kiss with a breathtaking smile on his face.

  “And breaking my rule was my pleasure.”

  He hums against my lips. “And mine.”

  “Many times,” I say, giggling.

  “Maybe tonight we can break some more rules.” His hand trails up the inside of my thigh, over the fabric of the pants that I wore here yesterday.

  “We broke the rules three times last night,” I remind him.

  “Tonight, let’s try for four.”

  I’m looking forward to that. “After dinner.”

  “And wooing.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I reply, giving him another kiss.

  It’s nice to get lost in possibility right now. To make plans that completely leave our current situation out of the equation. Because the fact of the matter is that our world at dinner time might look a lot different than it does right now. We might be dealing with yet another crisis. Or, hopefully, we’ll be putting this one to bed.

  Either way, the planning is a nice distraction.

  Ben’s cell phone beeps, and he pulls it out of the breast pocket of his suit.

  “Time to go,” he says, helping me up from my chair.

  As he walks over to the table by the door, collecting his laptop bag. I take a moment to admire the view: Ben’s in the kind of business where he doesn’t dress up very frequently. He’s always dressed nicely, but suits aren’t part of his wardrobe on a daily basis.

  It’s a damn shame, too, because suits look sinful on this man. The one he’s wearing today is steel grey, paired with a crisp white shirt and a blue silk tie that really sets off his gorgeous eyes.

  “What?” he asks, a smile spreading across his lips.

  “That’s a good suit,” I say, walking over to him. “You should wear it more often.”

  He practically preens under my compliment, and it takes my mind off of what I’m about to do: go home and pretend like absolutely nothing is wrong.

  “C’mon,” he says, taking my hand.

  I let him lead me out the door and down to the car. During our ride, he holds my hand, and I sit in silence thinking about how far I’ve come since yesterday.

  Corinne has new people looking out for her, ones that will be observant enough to look out for someone trying to seduce her into a compromising position. She’s going to get acquainted with them this morning.

  Mia has an eye out for someone trying to sell those pictures, which is a relief in and of itself.

  Ben hooked me up with security that makes me feel truly protected, like they’ve taken my concerns to heart and are going to make sure that everything is okay.

  I have a number to text if I feel uncomfortable, and a panic button to sound off if I think I’m in danger.

  Still, I can’t help the feeling of dread that nags at me when Ben drops me off. He kisses me, lingering a little, like he feels it, too.

  The day passes mostly without incident, and I manage to get through quite a lot of work before Ben’s due to pick me up for dinner.

  I’m ready and waiting for him at 7, and don’t think much of him running late. That’s pretty typical for him. By 7:45, when my texts and calls have gone unanswered, my phone lights up.

  It’s Stuart.

  “Hello?” I say, trying to sound like I’m in control, and not dangerously close to spiraling.

  “Don’t panic,” Stuart says, which does absolutely nothing to keep me calm. “I’m sending a car for you.”

  “What happened?�
��

  “It’s Ben.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  In an emergency room cubicle that takes us entirely too long to get to, Ben sits with his legs dangling off the bed, his head bowed, his injured hand cradled against his chest.

  I rush into the room like an hysterical maniac, having pushed past a number of nurses in order to get to him. No one told me how bad it was, just that he was “going to be okay.”

  I spent most of the ride over here thinking that maybe he’d be in a coma, or shot, or that he’d been hit by a car. I had no idea what to expect. But when I see his hangdog expression as I walk into the room, that he’s upright and conscious, I’m glad that at least the worst of my fears have been put to rest.

  He’s fine, he’s moving under his own power, and there aren’t any wires coming out of his arm or any machines hooked up to his chest.

  This is good, a best-case scenario.

  I can work with this.

  I walk over to him, and crook my fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up so he has to look at me. He has a split lip, and his left hand looks terrible, all bleeding and bruised and swollen.

  I give him a soft kiss, but he pulls away from it too soon. He doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. I have no idea what happened or why he’s here, but I have to know the answer to that question first.

  He nods. “It’s over.”

  “What?” I ask, not entirely sure that I heard him correctly. “What’s over?”

  Stuart steps up behind me, holding a picture in his hands. My heart stops when I see it. It’s the man whose identity I’ve been trying to find ever since he showed up on my front step with that envelope full of pictures so many days ago.

  “Does this guy look familiar?” Stuart asks.

  I nod, speechless. It’s too good to be true. It’s too much to think that just like that, with a phone call and what looks like a broken hand, that this could all be over.

  “Preston Pollard,” Stuart says. “That’s his name. We got him, and our guys in California nabbed his associate, the guy who conned your sister.”

  “And the pictures?”

  “We’ve deleted every trace of them,” Stuart assures me.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Under the threat of injury and severe financial penalties, we got Mister Pollard to hand over all copies. If there are more and he didn’t disclose that to us, trust me. He’ll pay,” Stuart explains.

  I guess this is as sure a thing as I’m going to get in this day and age.

  “Does Corinne know? Did someone call her?”

  Stuart nods. “She knows, although I expect she’d like to hear from you later. She knows we were bringing you in.”

  “What happened, exactly?” I ask, sliding my hand along the smooth ridges of Ben’s tense shoulders. “Is this related? What happened to you?”

  It’s a rapid fire of questions, but I’ve just been given so much information that it’s difficult to focus on just one thing.

  “Slow down,” Stuart says, with a small smile that you can only give someone when you know everything is going to be okay.

  “Okay, let’s start with this: Is your hand okay? How did that happen?”

  “My hand’s fine,” Ben says absently, still looking at the floor.

  “It’s broken.” Stuart looks at Ben. “They’re going to come and set it soon.”

  “How did that happen?” I ask again. I’m guessing the answer is something that both of them know I won’t want to hear.

  “I beat the shit out of that guy,” Ben says. He doesn’t sound proud of it though, just ashamed.

  “Can someone please fill me in on what happened, exactly? Was he after me, or Ben? Or Corinne?”

  Stuart scrubs his hand over his face. “All three of you, actually.”

  For whatever reason, that wasn’t an answer I was prepared to hear. “Why?”

  “He was an employee of mine,” Ben says. “He was working on the project he wanted you to steal the schematics for.”

  “He wasn’t doing a very good job,” Stuart adds.

  “I’m a pretty good judge of character. We hire the best talent from the best schools. Sometimes I make a mistake.”

  I’m not really sure what to say to that, so I continue rubbing Ben’s shoulders, hoping to work out some of the stubborn tension that doesn’t want to come out.

  “So, you fired him?” I ask. It doesn’t take a genius to put that puzzle together.

  Ben nods. “A few weeks ago. He started missing work, not calling in. His manager counseled him about it a few times, but he started getting agitated. Turns out he was having some personal problems.”

  “What kind of personal problems?” I ask. Breakups can make a person act irrationally. So can money- “Oh.” It hits me like a ton of bricks, right in the center of my chest.

  “Mister Pollard had a trust fund, and he took a meeting with your father a month and a half ago,” Stuart explains.

  That’s all he needs to say.

  “Why go after Corinne, though? I asked him if he wanted money, and he told me he didn’t.”

  “He was angry and desperate, Marisa,” says Stuart. “He got overambitious, wanting to embarrass your sister, tie you into knots, and get his hands on the real cash cow in Ben’s program.”

  “He promised this guy in California a cut?” I ask.

  Stuart nods. “Something like that.”

  “I still don’t understand how we wound up in the hospital, though.”

  Stuart gives Ben a long look, like he’s giving him the chance to explain himself. Ben’s focus stays on the floor.

  “Mia found a digital signature on the thumb drive Mister Preston gave you that let us know who he was. Ben insisted on coming along when we went to question him. I’ll let him tell you the rest,” Stuart says.

  The nurse enters the room at the most inopportune moment, and Stuart excuses himself to go make some phone calls. Apparently he’s got some unfinished business with the police, who have Preston Pollard locked up, charges pending.

  “Time to get a cast on that,” she says, way too cheery for the situation at hand.

  “Do you want me to stay?” I ask Ben, desperate to get through to him somehow, to break him out of this funk he’s in. I want to know his side of the story, how he went from a ride-along with Stuart to being on the receiving end of a cast.

  He shakes his head. “No. Go call Corinne.”

  “Ben,” I plead, crouching down so I can look him in the eye.

  He takes my hand in his good one, and gives it a squeeze before bringing it up to his mouth, where he presses a kiss to my knuckles.

  “Go, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when I’m done.”

  The nurse gives me a soft, understanding smile. “If you take a seat in the waiting room, I’ll come out and get you when he’s all finished.”

  I’m reluctant to leave, but that’s clearly what Ben wants.

  I nod, and head out of the door.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Hey,” I say, standing on the small courtyard right off of the waiting room in the emergency wing of this hospital.

  I can actually hear the smile in Corinne’s voice. “Hey.”

  “How are you?” I ask. “Relieved, I hope?”

  “Relieved, grateful, in awe. So thankful to you, Marisa. You have no idea.”

  I can’t help but grin. “You should be thankful to Ben,” I tell her. “He’s the one who got the ball rolling on all of this once I told him.”

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you the other night. I didn’t mean what I said, about you becoming like Mom and Dad.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I explain. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, Corinne.”

  “I was angry and scared, and I lashed out. I appreciate that you want to make me feel better about it, but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less sorry.”

  “I appreciate your apology,” I say, brushing a strand of hair back
behind my ear. “But, it was you who made me realize that I needed to ask for help.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was worried about you. I always worry about you, but now with things the way they are with our family, I…sometimes I get a little nervous that you’re not being completely honest with me about how things are for you. I don’t want you to be angry about this, but I had lunch with Felicity the other day, and I asked about you.”

  I hear Corinne sigh on the other end of the line. “I know.”

  “You…what?”

  Corinne laughs. “I know. Felicity told me.”

  “Oh,” I reply, not sure how else to respond.

  “She was right, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “I look up to you, Marisa. When you told me what you planned to do to Ben, I was disappointed. But that feeling wasn’t even in the same vicinity of how proud of you I was when you told me you reached out for help. Or how grateful I feel to you and Ben right now.”

  The tears are falling down my cheeks before I even register them, and I honestly can’t believe that I lucked out with such an amazing sister.

  “You have no idea how nice it is to hear that,” I admit. I’m not even trying to hide the fact that I’m crying.

  I hear the sniffle on the other side of the line, and I know that Corinne is crying, too. “Thank you so much, Marisa. For everything that you do for me, that you’ve done for me. These past few months could’ve been so miserable, but they haven’t been. And that’s because of you.”

  “I’d do anything for you, Cor.”

  “I know,” she whispers.

  “We have to stick together. You and me. Always.”

  “Always,” she replies. “Is Ben there? Can I talk to him?”

  “He’s…uh, we’re at the hospital right now.”

  “Is he okay?” she asks, an edge of panic in her voice.