Phillip halts and both men say in unison, “What?”
I might be shaking on the inside, but I meet their shocked stares with confidence. “If you want me to continue to be Celeste, then Calder staying on as my guard is a condition of my agreement.”
Phillip slices his hand through the air, spitting out, “Absolutely not!”
I ignore Phillip and turn to Gregory. “Your daughter might have wanted to keep things running smoothly for the sake of your career, Mr. Carver, but I refuse to put myself in harm’s way. Whether you believe Celeste is just being stubborn or not, I want the one person she handpicked as my guard while I’m here.”
Gregory jams his hands in his pants, his gaze sharp. “Resorting to blackmail doesn’t instill trust, Miss Rockwell.”
“Your lawyer seems to have no issue with that tactic,” I quickly counter without sparing Phillip a glance. “Calder will be another set of eyes. Everyone benefits from that. All I’ve told him is that you’ve decided to give him a trial run for a couple of days at my request.”
“You’re not really considering this, are you?” Phillip asks Gregory, his tone clearly annoyed with me.
The stubbornness that flickers in Gregory’s eyes knots my stomach with worry. Before Phillip can talk him into nixing Calder, I fold my arms and call their bluff. “If you don’t agree to Calder, then you may as well file a missing person’s report with the police today. I won’t continue as Celeste without protection I can trust.”
“Marco is your security,” Phillip snaps.
My gaze flicks to his irritated one. “He’s useless.”
Gregory’s jaw muscle bunches before he finally speaks. “You’ll have two guards then. Everywhere you go, Marco follows.”
I start to argue, but Phillip interrupts. “You seem to be forgetting that you’re a guest in this house, Miss Rockwell. If Gregory insists that Marco be everywhere you and Mr. Blake are, then you have no choice but to accept.”
I grudgingly nod my agreement to Gregory’s terms. I don’t like it, but it’s better than the police hauling me away for questioning. At least Celeste’s room is off-limits to Marco, which means I’ll have privacy to do a more thorough search of her recent internet history.
Addressing Gregory, I ask, “Will there be an evening event tonight?”
He nods, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “Yes, one at a hotel in Manhattan and there will be another event here tomorrow evening.”
“Then I’m going to have Beatrice prepare a room for Mr. Blake. I understand these kinds of social events can run late.”
Phillip’s gaze narrows, but Gregory just waves dismissively, already clearing me from his presence. “Just be where we ask you to be and things should run as planned.”
“About the events, Miss Rockwell,” Phillip chimes in. “All of Celeste’s social roles and responsibilities must be maintained, which includes her engagement to my son, Ben.”
Even though I genuinely enjoy talking to Ben, I instantly stiffen. What is he implying? “It’s a marriage in name only.”
He offers a cold, brittle smile as he brushes lint off his suit jacket sleeve. “Be that as it may, you must conduct yourself as if you’re a happily engaged couple. That includes posing for photo ops and conversing with constituents and Carver Enterprises board members in attendance about causes you plan to support and issues you want to defend as a married couple.”
My eyes widen. “I—I have no idea what those are.”
“Just let Ben do his doctor thing. All they need to see is you being supportive.”
I frown slightly at his unspoken, yet implied—like a good wife should. “But as Carver Enterprises’ CEO, wouldn’t they expect to hear Celeste’s thoughts on worthy causes and social issues?”
Phillip snorts out a laugh as he folds his arms. “Do you really think Celeste runs Carver Enterprises? She knows the role she plays.”
So this is what Celeste meant by her CEO title not meaning anything. How sad that she gave up her ability to choose whom she married in exchange for a business role with no substance.
I bite back my instinctive snarky response to Phillip’s dismissive comment. He apparently never witnessed Celeste bend people to her Queen Bee will in high school. “I’ll bet Celeste could easily run a business.”
“Capability and willingness are two entirely different things,” Gregory says on a sigh as he sits down and picks up a folder, his expression shuttered. “Don’t forget the media interview is at four today. Please be dressed and in the living room ten minutes before. That will be all, Miss Rockwell.”
Marco stands guard just outside the library door when I walk in and close it behind me.
Calder says goodbye to whomever he’s speaking with, then slips his phone into his pants pocket. When I press my finger to my lips to let him know we have an audience, then nod to answer the question in his eyes—Did Gregory approve him as my security?—an arrogant smirk crooks one corner of his mouth.
Striding in my direction, he says in a low tone, “Let’s go. I need to run a quick errand to rearrange my coaching schedule with some other trainers at the gym, then I’ll grab some clothes.” He passes me, continuing his line of thought. “Will I need a tux?” When he realizes I’m not on his heels, he quickly turns, his light brown brows pulling together.
Once he steps back into place in front of me, I speak so only he can hear. “The only way Gregory agreed to you as my guard is if Marco goes everywhere you and I do. You use the gym under your MMA persona, right?” When Calder scowls his frustration, I shoo him on. “I know you need to keep “Steel” anonymous. Go sort out your schedule.”
Calder’s fists clench and the vein down his neck visibly pulses. I can tell he’s conflicted, but he can’t commit to being here with me until he takes care of his other responsibilities. I rest my hand on his chest. “I’ll be fine, Calder.”
Trapping my hand with his much bigger one, he lifts my palm to his mouth and presses a warm kiss into it. “Don’t go anywhere alone with any of the men connected to the Carver family…including Marco. That asshole is probably leaving snot trails on the door right now.” As I snicker at his comment, he continues, “It’ll probably be three before I can get back here. Keep in touch with me every hour so I know you’re okay.”
We turn and just before I reach the door, he tugs me back into his arms, saying gruffly against my throat, “I don’t want to leave you here.”
I melt into him and curl my fingers along his jaw, enjoying the smooth feel against my fingers. It’s an equally arousing contrast to his evening beard that left goose bumps along my skin late last night. I inhale against his neck and savor his smell, knowing it’ll be the last time I can do this until I’m no longer Celeste. Stepping back, I swallow my emotions. “Once we leave this room all eyes will be watching. You must treat me like a client under your guard and nothing more.” I nod toward the closed door. “To the world out there, I’m Celeste Carver and Ben’s fiancé.”
Calder’s expression quickly darkens. “You said the engagement was a business arrangement.”
I nod. “It is, but appearances must be kept in the public eye. You can’t let on that you know I’m not Celeste. The only people who know my real identity are Phillip, Gregory, and Beth. Neither Ben nor Jake will be told.”
“What?” His eyes flash, taking on the unusual green hue of the sky before a tornado hits.
I take a step back and he follows me right up to the door, his words a low, harsh growl. “I don’t share, angel. If that upstart doctor makes even one inappropriate move toward you, he won’t be able to stitch himself up, let alone anyone else.”
I jerk my head back and forth. “You can’t touch him. Ben thinks I’m Celeste. He has every right to clasp his fiancé’s hand, or wrap his arm around her waist in a social gathering like any fiancé would. I’ll keep him at bay.”
Calder’s gaze narrows. “Let him fucking try it—”
I press my hand against his mouth to cut him
off and whisper harshly, “No, Calder.”
Biting down on the fleshy part of my palm, he steps back, his tone suddenly professional and his expression military stoic. “If you’ll see me out, Miss Carver, I’ll collect my things and be back here at fifteen-hundred. Will formal attire be required for the evening events?”
If my palm didn’t still throb, I would seriously question whether I dreamed Calder’s display of territorial dominance. “Yes, you’ll need a tux.” Digging shaky fingers into my tingling skin, I uncurl my fingers and open the door.
Gil’s cane echoes down the hall that leads to his office, it’s slow resounding thump drowning out the sound of the guys’ wrestling against the mats in the gym. Or maybe that’s just my guilt ratcheting. I feel bad that he has to come in and cover my shift. When I saw how he was struggling to recover from the beating he took for daring to challenge the MMA EUC group, I offered to take on a few mornings for him so he could ease back into work, but as bad as I feel over Gil, the thought of leaving Cass alone in the Carver house takes precedence. I’ve never been so on edge.
That whole situation at the Carver estate is one big clusterfuck.
I know Cass was trying to do the right thing for her father, but now that she could be implicated in Celeste’s disappearance, I’m beyond furious. Especially after I learned that son of a bitch Phillip Hemming was the one who coerced her into continuing on as Celeste by threatening her. Gregory Carver might be complicit in keeping Celeste’s disappearing act under wraps, but from what I’ve seen Phillip is the one pulling all the strings.
I’ve never despised a person quite so much, nor have I wanted to do permanent harm using every skill in my arsenal more than I do with that conniving bastard. I didn’t like the authoritative way he spoke to “Celeste” last night at the party, but the fact he dared to put Cass in harm’s way with his blackmail bullshit, puts him at the top of my target list. Once Cass is safely back to her own life, I will find a way to make the despicable man pay for all his past and present sins.
“Why are you still here brooding? Get the hell out,” Gil barks, yanking me out of my musings.
I snort at his grizzled face under his ever-present cap and pretend not to notice how hard he leans on his chair’s arm as he takes a seat behind his desk. Even though I want to tell him to close the gym for a couple of days, I keep my thoughts to myself. He’ll just ignore me. He’s as stubborn as my dad was, which is probably why they were best friends growing up.
I only learned of his existence after my father’s funeral when Gil walked up and clapped me on the shoulder, saying in that gruff way of his, “I’m sorry for your loss, Calder, my boy. Your father was a hell of a man.” Handing me a business card, he continued, “Anytime you want to talk…or just work out some frustration, come see me at the gym.”
Gil gave me back my sanity after I returned to Manhattan as a civilian. It had been easier to push off mourning my father’s death during the few years I was deployed on mission after mission, but upon returning to New York and subsequently learning in a letter from my long-dead mother’s attorney that Jack Blake wasn’t my biological father, I finally mourned Jack’s death by taking a month long drinking binge. I may have drunkenly called Gil one night. I’m really not sure. All I know is that Gil found me at a bar and dragged me to his gym.
“Wake up!” someone yelled while spraying me with a burst of hard water in a dark alley.
“What the hell!” I stumbled to my feet, wet trash sliding underneath my shoes. Resisting the urge to shiver in the cold, I blinked the water out of my eyes and tried to make out the shadowy figure in the hat wielding a firehose. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Watch your mouth!” A hard spray sliced across my face from ear to ear, jacking my fury even more. Coughing up water, I lunged unsteadily toward the man, but he just turned the spray toward my crotch and hit it full blast.
Ooomph. The laser accuracy sent pain from my balls straight to my brain. I grabbed my junk and fell back against the wall, bent over and moaning. “Son of a motherfucker!”
“Your father would be appalled, Calder!”
When his familiar voice sank in, I glared at him in the darkness. “Gil?”
“Damn straight it is.” He slammed the hose on the asphalt and stalked toward me, all gruff and grumble. “Now that you’re somewhat aware, haul your drunk ass inside and get dried off. We need to talk.”
An hour later, we sat at his office table, and over a pot of coffee I spilled my guts, telling Gil about the letter I received from my mother’s attorney.
“I wish she’d never told me, Gil. Honest to God, I wish I could unlearn that bit of history. But I can’t help but think that things could’ve all turned out differently if she had just confessed to my dad.”
”Rebecca didn’t tell your father for a reason, Calder.”
I snapped my gaze to Gil’s. “You knew about the other guy?” I growled out the question, full of renewed resentment.
“I was the one who told her to never tell your father.”
I jumped to my feet, the newly brewed coffee pot jostling in the center of the table. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Gil held up his work-roughened hands, unperturbed by my outburst. “Becca came to me, distraught with guilt once she learned she was pregnant. She and Jack had tried to get pregnant for four years without success. I think she felt that since I was Jack’s best friend, telling me was like confessing to him. But I knew the news would destroy Jack, so I told her she could never tell him. I wanted my best friend to have a chance at happiness and with a baby on the way, it was possible for them both to have the family they always wanted if she could get past the guilt.” He snorts. “I suppose I understand her reasoning for telling you once Jack died—only a mother would think her child might one day need a ‘familial match’ for medical reasons—but I agree, I wish she had never told you at all.”
I was shaking inside, ready to explode.
Gil didn’t have all the facts. My mother never got over the guilt. She kept it buried. He didn’t know she committed suicide, because it was easier for the Blake family to have the outside world believe she died of a brain aneurism. Other than making Gil feel like shit—when he was obviously trying to help me—what would be the point of telling him the truth then? At the very least, I could honor my dad’s wish to keep my mother’s suicide quiet. Bash is the only other person who knows the truth about my mother’s death, but my cousin knows first hand how to live with Blake family secrets.
I sat back down and grabbed the empty coffee mug, shaking my head to clear away the liquor-fueled fog I’d been under the past few weeks. To learn I wasn’t the only one who carried the burden of the truth felt freeing somehow.
Gil poured me a fresh cup of coffee and then held my gaze. “I want to clear one thing up—”
“It’s over and done.” My chest might’ve felt lighter, but I could already feel my back muscles tightening at the subject in general. I folded my fingers tight around the ceramic and tried to suppress my resentment and anger at my mother for destroying my blissful ignorance. Even as my fingers singed, I pressed them against the coffee’s heat, welcoming the pain.
“Calder, son. It’s best if—”
“No more,” I barked out at the same time the coffee cup shattered, sloshing steaming liquid all over my hands. “Son of a bitch!” I yelled, jumping up.
Gil threw me a towel and gruffly told me to calm down. “Listen, I know we can’t do anything about the past, but Becca told me—”
“Not another goddamn word about it, Gil,” I gritted out as I wiped the coffee off my hands in fast swipes. “Or I’ll walk out of here and never speak to you again.”
And to his credit, Gil has never spoken about the past. Instead, he became an invaluable friend. Working out with Gil’s guys gave me something to focus on other than the fact I was never really a Blake. The distraction built into something far more than a physical honing of my body. It was different than being in
the military, but I became a part of a family here.
After Gil got attacked for standing up to the EUC over one of his fighters who disappeared, I had a purpose that could put my special military training to use as well. I made a plan and went undercover as Steel with the sole intent of taking down the EUC and holding them all accountable for their crimes related to MMA fighting.
What I didn’t expect was to grow so close to Gil in the process. The gym and the fighters are the only family he has ever had. He treats the guys like his adopted kids, but for some reason I’m different. He treats me like the son he never had. Maybe he does so out of loyalty to Jack, or he has regrets about the advice he gave my mom all those years ago.
All I know is…seeing him lying there all beaten and bruised in that hospital bed put me on the kind of focused path I’ve only felt during missions. The EUC group will go down. I protect my family and those close to me with fierce conviction.
And I’m close. Once I win this last rescheduled fight, I’ll get to meet the benefactors. I’ll finally have names and faces to give the authorities. Now that I’ll have access to the Carver’s house, there’s a slim chance I’ll get a lead even sooner if I can get ahold of Beth’s phone and swipe her boyfriend’s phone number. Then I could hand the info off to Bash’s team to trace. I honestly believe Beth is clueless about the depth of her boyfriend and his business partner’s illegal activities.
Watching flashes of pain crease Gil’s face as he slides his rolling chair toward his desk tugs me back to the here and now. As a deep hole of fury burns in my chest, I look away and try not to let myself feel. Worry for Cass is consuming me; I just can’t let anything else take an emotional toll on me right now. I need to stay focused and sharp for everyone I care about.
Swallowing down my emotion, I glance Gil’s way and answer his gruffness with my own. “If you wouldn’t take so long to get seated I’d be out of here already.”
Gil scrunches his face, his gaze suddenly narrowed on me. “Where’d you say you’ll be?”
Steel Rush (In the Shadows#5) Page 4
