by Fiona Archer
“Thank you for bringing Patch home,” Alex said, his voice polite in a remote kind of way, as if thanking an employee.
“Of course.” She looked from one man to the other. Their faces remained carefully blank.
“So what did you do this afternoon?” Kane asked. “Before picking up Patch that is.”
“Oh, you know the usual stuff.” Searched for ways to bring down my blackmailer. “I checked a few opportunities from regional media outlets that want to do a story on the lodge.” And she had done that, except on Monday.
“And your mom?” Alex’s stare pinned her to her seat. “You left to help your mom.”
Dammit! She was such a crap liar. Keeping up with a web of deceit wasn’t her forte.
“Right, she needed me to fix something on her…” What? She felt their stares boring inside her head, reading her thoughts. “Sewing machine.” Seriously? That was the best she could come up with? Why were they so curious anyway? “What’s with all the questions, guys?” The plastic bag with the treats stuck to her palm.
The sound of a heavy tread came from the hallway. She turned. Quinn reentered, and any trace of warmth he had shown her in the weeks past was nonexistent in his cold stare.
She swung her head back to the guys. Her chest constricted, as if caught in steel bands that were being tightened inch by inch by an invisible vice.
Kane started to move to the side, revealing his laptop, which faced her on the desk behind him. “We wanted to make sure we had the full picture. And share one with you.” He clicked on an icon on his desktop.
A video flashed open, one recorded earlier that day when she sat at Kane’s desk and copied the file.
Her stomach dropped. She stared open mouthed at the screen. Kane tapped a button on the keyboard, zooming in on the video until it showed the front page of the bid document with its huge heading.
There was nowhere to hide.
“It’s…” Her words were no more than a thin croak. “It’s not as it seems.”
Kane’s voice turned glacial. “You copied the bid document to a USB stick. Something you should have no need to do.” He leaned back on the desk and wrapped his hands around the edge of the timber’s edge. “Looks clear to me.”
She sat forward in the chair, needing them to listen to her. “Yes, but I threw the USB away. It’s useless.”
“We know.” Alex had an unreadable expression in his eyes. “There are cameras all along the walkway and the foyer. Did you realize it was a dummy document? Is that why you ditched it? The real bid file is saved under a different name. We’ve been trailing a security device that sends off an alarm when a certain file is opened on Kane’s computer.” His voice hardened to a biting coldness, reminding her of the bitter winds that hit during the winter squalls. “The one you opened was our dummy file, made to look like the real thing, but missing vital information.”
God, she’d failed even in her paltry attempt to get the document. “No, it wasn’t like that.” Her hands lost their strength. The bag of treats dropped to the floor, resting on her foot like a weighted stone. “I made a mistake. It was stupid of me.”
“You’ve got that right, sweetheart. Screwing us without being in the same bed isn’t our idea of a fun time.” Kane’s knuckles turned white from his punishing grip on the desk. “You sat next to me Monday night and saw me save the document. But you didn’t see me save the real version before the fake. Stupid me, I even answered your questions, thought it was you showing an interest in something that was important to me. It made me feel wanted, appreciated. What guy wouldn’t fall for that? After all, you were the woman we loved.”
Loved. Past tense.
Despair sliced into her, crushing her soul.
Her interest had been no act. But now, in the guys’ eyes, she’d incriminated herself even further.
And she couldn’t defend herself. Not without implicating her mom.
She dropped her chin to her chest. “I have nothing to say.” Helplessness overwhelmed her. Biting down on the urge to scream out her reason, to beg them to forgive her, she could only stare at the knots in the wood grain of Kane’s desk.
“That’s it?” Kane voice struck her with the sharpness of a lash, forcing her head up. “You commit an act of industrial espionage, break the trust we’d all fought so fucking hard to establish and you have nothing to say? You’re not even going to try to fight for us?”
She wanted to, desperately, but it wasn’t her freedom at stake.
The charming, easy-going Kane had vanished. In his place was a lethal, furious man who felt betrayed. He had every right.
She looked between the both, her voice pleading. “I never meant to hurt y-you.” Her last words came out as a sob.
Alex’s pitiless gaze raked over her. She would have preferred him shouting instead of such cold remoteness. “How hard was it not to laugh when I was telling you about Caroline? Did you wonder if you could go one better, have a kid and then get as much money as you could? Or are you a short-term goal parasite?”
She flinched from the verbal body blow.
Kane’s upper lip curled. “We won’t bother contacting Lawson. He’s the one who put you up to this, right? We want to imagine you seeing him tear up whatever check he offered you for the information.”
God, what bittersweet irony. She needed Lawson to stay ignorant of her being caught if she wanted any hope of saving her mom.
There was nothing left to say. Praying that her legs would get her to her truck, she stood, nearly tripping on the bag of treats. Slowly, and with shaking hands, she picked up the bag, and held it out to Alex. “These are for P–Patch.” Her throat caught on the name. She tried not to think of him playing with his hamburger toy and her not there to see it.
Alex grasped the bag, then without looking back, laid it on the desk, remaining silent the whole time.
Kane moved away from the desk, bringing him physically closer, but the hardness of his voice revealed the vast emotional chasm between them. “Quinn’s going to search your bag for any property or documents that belong to MacKenzie Corp, then confiscate your key card and the keys to our home.”
She opened her mouth, but what could she say or expect? She was the enemy, a traitor.
Quinn scooped up her bag and rifled through its contents. In some hazy part at the back of her mind, she noted she should be grateful for cleaning it out beforehand. Even though her notebook was her property, if he had chosen to read through it, all the details on Eugene Hicks and her mom’s history were written down with questions she had posed to herself.
“Open this.” Quinn passed her the wallet her mom had given her for Christmas. Its pink leather looked so incongruous in a hand so rugged and big as the Texans. “Get out your key card.”
She took the purse, fumbled her way opening it before finally managing to slide out her key card and hand it to Quinn. She heard the jangle of keys before they were tossed back into her bag.
It was like she was a prisoner, being processed for release but having the things that symbolized her life with Alex and Kane taken away.
Quinn held up the plastic bag from the vet. “Patch’s meds and papers.”
“He needs to take his antibiotics, and Boone wants to see him in a few days.” She broke off in the face of their silence. “Stitches.”
“We’ll call Boone,” Alex said, making it clear her concern was not necessary nor wanted.
Her thoughts went to the memory of her smiling next to Patch as the receptionist took their photo.
So much had been lost to her. More than she could imagine.
“Your belongings from our house and personal possessions from the office will be delivered within twenty-four hours.” Kane looked down at her, his scorn evident in the hard line of his mouth. “Your contract with MacKenzie Corp is terminated. There won’t be any further legal ramifications. We want you gone.”
She gulped past the sob in her throat. “I’m so sorry.” Tears blinded her. She took a step
forward, wanting to hold onto them, wrap her arms around them, sob into their chests.
A hard hand gripped her upper arm, pulling her up short. “Let’s go, lady.” Quinn all but dragged her out of the room. As she stepped through the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder to see Kane with his back to the door and his hand at the back of his neck. Alex hadn’t moved, but his face had turned into stone.
She pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her sobs as Quinn pulled her down the hallway, out into the foyer, then down the steps to her truck. He leaned into her, forcing her back up against the sun-warmed metal of the truck’s door. Only her bag, which she grasped tightly to her chest, separated them. A clear, ominous threat lurked in his caramel-colored eyes. “Don’t contact my wife or Chloe. Ever. You now cease to be as far as they are concerned.” He stepped back. “Get going and stay gone.”
Sorrow slid like a cold hand into her chest and ripped at her heart.
Not only had she lost Alex and Kane, but two dear friends as well.
With trembling hands and limbs, she managed to get herself into the truck and the engine started. Through tears and sobs, she steered the vehicle all the way to her mom’s house before running inside and collapsing on her bed. Her sobs wracked her body and it was much later, when darkness had descended through her bedroom window, that she heard the key in the front door’s latch.
Christ, what did she do now? There was no way she could hide from her mom all night long.
“Hi, Livy. I brought Italian home for dinner.”
She dragged herself up to sit on the edge of her bed, noting the black splotches from her mascara on her mint-green pillowcase. Her mom had been so excited to have a girl’s night with her before Olivia’s special business trip to Seattle the next day. Now her mom had come home to this.
What a freaking mess she had created.
“Honey, I got your favorite, carbonara, and…” Her mom’s voice stalled as she stood at Olivia’s bedroom door. “What’s wrong?” Maggie rushed over to sit next to Olivia. She wrapped her arms around her daughter, squeezing tight.
That was all it took for Olivia to crumble.
“Oh, Mom.” She sobbed into the collar of her mom’s pink shirt. How could she have any more tears left in her? But it was different this time. She snuggled against the woman who had always guaranteed safety and comfort. Even if it came just in a hug. “I’ve screwed up with Alex and Kane. It’s all over.”
Her mom rubbed Olivia’s back, soothing just with her touch. And reminding Olivia all she possibly had yet to loose. “Oh, baby. They were just here last Sunday, telling me how much of a difference you’d made in their lives.” Her mom’s voice grew louder with growing disbelief. “Surely this can be fixed.”
Olivia broke out of her mom’s embrace. She gripped the older woman’s hands, holding them close to her own chest. She had to make her understand. “Mom, it’s over. There’s no going back.”
Maggie Fletcher blinked troubled blue eyes. “But why?”
“It’s personal and between the three of us.”
Her mom’s mouth hardened as she pulled her hands out of Olivia’s grasp. “None of that, young lady. I’m your mamma and will be no matter how old you are. So spill.”
Olivia sighed, her reserves of strength exhausted. She had nothing left to fight with. And yet she had to if she was going to get herself to Seattle tomorrow and do battle with Lawson.
“Mom, you just have to trust me. When I can tell you, I will.” But not until after tomorrow. “For now, I need you to make sure that carbonara doesn’t get cold. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Can you eat right now?” Her mom’s forehead creased in a frown.
“I don’t know, but I do know I can’t sit here on this bed crying any longer.”
Maggie wasn’t finished just yet. “What about Seattle?”
“I’m still going. I can’t miss this meeting. It’s with—” The man who holds our future in his hands? “A prospective client. Someone I met when I was in Seattle.” At least the last sentence wasn’t a lie.
Her mom slapped her hands on the black slacks covering her thighs. “Well, whatever’s going on, you know I’m here when you’re ready to talk.” Her eyes held a hint of understanding as well as worry. “Be out soon, honey.”
“I will, Mom.” Olivia watched her mom disappear down the hallway that led to the kitchen, closely followed by Hercules. The last thing she wanted to do was eat but if she didn’t at least make an attempt at something, her mom would put the hammer down on the questions and not let up until she had broken Olivia into confessing everything.
In the bathroom, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Her red puffy eyes would settle by morning but nothing would take away the emptiness and sorrow that had lodged like a heavy weight in her chest. With a sigh, she splashed cold water on her face. After wiping with a towel, she dragged a brush through her hair, trying to at least look human for her mom. She changed into black sweat pants and an old snuggly white T-shirt. Comfort clothes.
The kitchen table was set and iced tea poured into glasses. Her mom pulled out an extra-large foil container from the oven, then served a heap of carbonara into two bowls. Slices of butter-soaked garlic bread lay in a basket on the table. The food failed to spark her appetite, and with a blocked nose from all her crying, she couldn’t taste anything. But not wanting to hurt her mom’s feelings, she forced herself to take a few bites.
After half an hour of her mom trying for general chitchat, Olivia had reached her limit. Craving solitude, she washed up the dishes, brushing aside her mom’s protestations, then headed for her room, not before missing her mom’s worried look.
The white digital clock radio on Olivia’s bedside table read seven thirty. She needed to check her e-mail. She sat at her desk and clicked on her computer. Her inbox had filled up, including e-mails from Reagan and Chloe, which like their phone messages she had seen come up on her phone, she ignored. God help her when Suzie found out. There would be no avoiding her best friend.
She sighed and concentrated on her e-mail, specifically those from her contacts in New York. By the time she had read through those five e-mails, she began to feel the first faint stirrings of hope that maybe she wasn’t completely at Lawson’s mercy.
For the last few years, Lawson Enterprises had been making inroads into Asia on small construction projects. Hiring from the local population meant substantially cheaper wages, and in some countries, kickbacks led to little or no safety controls. Handy when Lawson wanted to cut corners. But those savings had come at a huge price, culminating in the death of five workers on a project last year in a country that was currently experiencing political turmoil.
The company’s poor record had become a lightning rod for that nation’s human rights groups, who were beginning to coordinate publicity to try and gain exposure to these dubious practices. The bigger problem for Lawson Enterprises was one of the corrupt safety inspectors was facing charges relating to bribes from other multinational companies. To make his sentence lighter, he was prepared to give up names. With that country’s judicial system facing heat for inaction on corruption, everything was now fair game.
Olivia had first spied inklings of trouble in the article she read online yesterday. Having worked for a global insurance underwriting company, she had all the contacts needed to check into accidents involving Lawson Enterprises.
Their record was appalling. Twenty-six deaths on one site alone. And that project was personally controlled by Richard Lawson. Did his board of directors know of these deaths? If anything, it would be a PR disaster for the company if news got out they had used slave labor and didn’t care if the workforce survived.
On a personal front, she had far more to lose, but commercially, Lawson wasn’t without his own risk.
It was all she had. Heaven help her, it had better work.
She grabbed an A4 plastic envelope. Perfect for keeping her notes together. She was gathering up her papers when her
mom walked into her room.
“Livy, I’m going to get—” Her mom broke off, staring at the photo of the bloody knife.
Her face drained to a ghostly white.
“Mom.” Olivia jumped up, taking a step forward. But she was pushed out of the way.
“Where did you get that?” Her mom snatched up the photo. She turned her gaze, now wide-eyed and fearful, on her daughter.
“Mom, I wanted to spare you.”
“How did you get this picture?” The older woman’s fingers dug painfully into her daughter’s flesh. “Tell me.”
Olivia wrenched her arm free. “From the man that’s blackmailing me.” The words came out hard, with the force of a verbal slap, not at all how she would have chosen to break the news.
Maggie staggered over to her daughter’s bed. As she sat, the mattress seemed to catch her from falling, more than a controlled movement of her body.
“This is all to do with your troubles with Alex and Kane.” Maggie slowly lifted her face to gaze at her daughter. “Isn’t it?” The bleakness in her mom’s voice felt like a kick in Olivia’s gut.
What point was there in hiding the truth? “Yes.”
Her mom gestured at the picture. “What did this man say about this knife?”
“That is was used to stab Eugene Hicks.” Mindful of the shock just dealt to her mom, Olivia rested her hand on her mom’s thigh. “But I’d like to hear your story, if you can tell me.”
Maggie looked ahead, but Olivia could tell she wasn’t taking in the white dressing table decorated with a small green vase filled with pansies from her treasured garden.
“Eugene was going to rescue me.” Her mom whispered, deep in her memories. “Take me away from Ella-Mae and her nastiness.” Her sigh resonated with the tiredness of defeat. “But in the end, being with him was only worse.”
“Did he hurt you, Mom?” She prayed not.
“Not until that night,” Maggie stated. “I’d been sick for a couple of weeks and waitressing at the local diner wasn’t easy work. Twelve-hour shifts, most of that on my feet. But we needed the money. Eugene wasn’t working.” She made a disparaging sound as she looked up at the ceiling. “Not that he did often. He turned out to be more of a con artist than a rescuer. All that charm and nothing to show for it.”
