“Eleanor,” Holton barks, his eyes on her.
She ignores him. “Seven it is.”
“We can see ourselves out,” Pearce says as he takes the baby carrier.
“No. I’ll walk you out,” his mother says, following us to the door.
We say goodbye as we wait for the car to be brought around to the front.
When we’re in the car, driving away, Pearce takes my hand. “Thank you for inviting them to dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Your mother and I are both trying to get this family back together.” I check the back seat and see Garret soundly sleeping. “So what did you think of our evening?”
“I thought it went quite well. I know my father ignored you, which would be rude behavior for anyone else, but for him it’s actually a good thing. It means he tolerates you, and that’s far better than the alternative. At least he wasn’t tossing insults at you all night.”
“That’s true. I guess it could’ve been worse. I was surprised by the nursery. Pearce, I don’t want Garret staying over there without us. It doesn’t feel right.”
“He won’t be staying there. My mother has so many rooms she doesn’t know what to do with them all. This gave her an excuse to convert one of them into something useful. But if she never uses it, that’s fine. She won’t be upset by it.”
“I can’t believe your parents didn’t even react when your phone went off at dinner. I thought for sure they’d yell at you, but they didn’t. Didn’t you find that odd?”
“No. They understand that work doesn’t end at five. If it were my personal phone, they wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Was Jack calling you?”
“No. It was someone else. There was an issue with the new product line.”
“And they had to call you at night about that?”
“Rachel, I’d rather not talk about work. I’m very tired, and thinking about work just makes me more tired.”
The car is silent for a moment, then I ask, “So do you really not like dessert?”
“I don’t care for sweets. I never have.”
I laugh. “And I’m just finding this out now? Pearce, I make you desserts all the time. Why didn’t you tell me you don’t like them?”
“Because I like the ones you make. But I don’t like other desserts, like that torte they were serving. It’s too sweet.”
“I make you chocolate cake. That’s not that different than a chocolate torte.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Rachel.” He lifts my hand up and kisses it. “I like your desserts but nobody else’s. I can’t explain it.”
I can’t explain it either. I can’t explain a lot of things that happened tonight, especially that call Pearce got and the fact that his parents didn’t get mad about it. Pearce almost never gets calls on that phone. I think that’s only the third time I’ve heard it ring. Yet he takes it with him everywhere he goes. And I don’t know why he needs two phones. He could just use his personal phone for work. But he insists on keeping the other one. I don’t understand it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
7
PEARCE
I received a call from Dunamis last night during dinner at my parents’ house. It was horrible timing. Rachel was questioning me about the call and then my father was making jokes about it, causing Rachel to question it even more. To make matters worse, the call was about my assignment, which is a kill assignment. I took the phone to my parents’ study and listened carefully to the instructions. When I returned to the dining room, I felt tense and anxious, but I did my best to act natural and pretend it was just a call from the office.
When we got home, I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about the assignment. So I told Rachel to go to sleep and that I’d get up with the baby during the night. Holding Garret calmed me, and by morning I felt a little better. But then I got to work and starting feeling stressed again. The person on the phone last night told me I have to take care of this today. I have to arrange for a murder. Today.
A folder with details regarding the assignment was delivered to me this morning and I’ve been going through it so I can figure out which freelancer would be best for the job. The man being killed is another freelancer. I wasn’t told what he did wrong. Maybe he told someone about us, or botched a job. Whatever it was, the outcome is the same. He has to be killed.
The information I was given says he’s the father of two young children. Their mother has custody of them and he never sees them. He was in prison before he became a freelancer. He killed two people during a robbery, so he’s a bad guy but he’s still a person. And a father. And now I have to kill him.
I can’t think about it. I just need to get it over with. I look through my contact list and find a freelancer I know can get the job done quickly. I call him and explain what to do and tell him to get it done today. Then I hang up, realizing that by the end of today, I will have killed a man. Even though I’m not actually the one doing it, I still arranged for it, so I feel responsible for his death.
There’s a knock on the door and Jack comes in. “There’s a meeting in ten minutes. Are you coming?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
He walks into my office. “What’s wrong with you? You look like hell today. Were you up with the kid all night?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I look this way.” I rub my hand over my jaw. “I just gave an order.”
He closes the door. “When’s it happening?”
“Today. I got the assignment last night while I was at my parents’ house having dinner.”
“You went to your parents’ house? Was Holton there?”
“Yes. My mother forced him to have dinner with us. She’s trying to reunite the family now that she has a grandchild.”
“How did the dinner go?”
“It was a typical Kensington dinner. My father talked nonstop about work, monopolizing the conversation. He ignored Rachel all night.”
“That’s good.”
I nod. “Yes. I told her that and she looked at me like I was crazy. She doesn’t understand how being ignored in my family is a good thing. Maybe my father is finally accepting her now that Rachel and I have a child together.”
“So he’s no longer disowning you?”
“He didn’t say those exact words, but yes, it sounds like I’m allowed back in their lives. Truthfully, I’d rather not be, at least as far as my father’s concerned, but for Garret’s sake, it would probably be good to try to be a family again. My father even invited me to go golfing next week. I’m sure it was my mother’s idea.”
“You and I should go golfing before the weather turns cold. It’s already the second week of October. We can’t wait much longer. I went golfing with Arlin and Royce last—”
“Shit!” I jump up from my chair, grabbing my keys. “Can I miss this meeting?”
“Maybe. What’s this about?”
“I need to go talk to Royce about something.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. I need to know something and it can’t wait.”
“Why don’t you just call him?”
“This needs to be discussed in person.” I go to the door. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’ll have to miss the meeting. I’ll work late tonight to make up for missing it.”
He waves me on. “Forget it. Just go.”
I hurry to my car and drive to Royce’s house. I need to know if he killed that woman. He’s been on the campaign trail the past few weeks and he wouldn’t answer my calls. He got back last night.
I need to know if he killed her, or if he listened to me and left her alone. I have to know if I was able to save two innocent lives. I know it doesn’t make up for the fact that I’m having a man killed today, but still. If I can save someone, I will.
When I get to the gate outside Royce’s mansion, I have to wait for the guard to ask Royce if I can enter. Royce must’ve agreed to it because the gate slowly opens.
The maid answers the
door, but Victoria pushes past her. “Pearce, you cannot just show up here unannounced,” she says, scolding me.
She’s wearing a white pantsuit, and her dark hair hangs down over her shoulders. I haven’t seen her hair down since she was a teenager. She always wears it up, twisted into a knot and pinned in place behind her neck. She obviously hasn’t fixed her hair for the day, which is probably why she’s angry I didn’t call first.
I walk past her. “I need to speak with Royce.”
“Your manners are atrocious.” She follows me and grabs my arm. “Royce is still dressing. He is not ready for visitors.”
“It’s almost ten in the morning.” I yank my arm back. “The man should be dressed by now.” I have difficulty being nice to Victoria because she still refuses to show any kindness toward Rachel, and I know she gossips about her to the other women.
“Royce has been on the road and didn’t get home until midnight last night. He’s resting and then he has to leave for New York. He has no time to meet with you.”
“He told the guard to let me in, so obviously you are incorrect.” I start down the hall but she steps in front of me.
“You are done being friends with him.” She scowls at me. “My husband is on a path to greatness and cannot associate with people like you.”
I glare at her. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
She waves her hand, haughtily, in the air between us. “You’re a disgrace, Pearce! Marrying that piece of trash girl, then having a—”
“Stop!” I grab her wrist. “You will NOT speak of her that way. And if you don’t stop gossiping about her, I will—”
“Pearce.” Royce appears, dressed in a suit and tie.
I let go of Victoria. “Hello, Royce.”
Victoria hurries over to him. “I was just telling Pearce that he must give us more notice before stopping by. I haven’t even done my hair yet.”
“It’s fine, Victoria,” he says, moving past her. “Run along and do your hair.”
She glowers at me, then storms off.
Royce adjusts his tie. “So, Pearce, what was so urgent that you felt the need to race over here, unannounced?”
“Can we talk privately?”
“Certainly. Let’s go to the study.” He turns and walks past the foyer to the other side of the house, stopping when we reach the study. It’s a dark room with no windows. It has a fireplace, some brown leather chairs, and the walls are lined with bookcases. He turns on a lamp and we sit in adjoining chairs, facing the fireplace.
“Did you do it?” I ask, getting right down to business.
“Do what?” he asks, tugging on the sleeves of his dress shirt and adjusting his cuff links. He’s obsessed with his appearance. His clothes always have to look perfect or he becomes agitated.
I lower my voice. “The woman you had an affair with. Did you…harm her?”
He chuckles. “You’re still thinking about that? What’s wrong with you, Pearce? Don’t you have your own problems to deal with? Or is your life so mundane that you feel the need to spice it up by interfering in the lives of others?”
“Just tell me. Did you do it or not?”
“No.” He tilts his head to one side, and then the other. “My neck is killing me from sitting on that plane. I need to schedule a massage.”
“Did she have the baby?”
“Yes.” He rubs his neck. “A girl. Another damn girl.”
“What about the mother?”
“I took care of her,” he says casually.
My body stiffens. “What does that mean?”
“It means I took care of her. I gave her enough money to keep quiet.”
I relax again. “So she asked you for money?”
“No. I simply gave it to her.” He slowly grins. “I can sometimes be compassionate, Pearce. The girl had to drop out of college and she has no job. I didn’t want my child growing up in poverty. The two of them now have plenty of money to live a comfortable life.”
I nod. “Good. I’m glad you finally came to your senses and acted responsibly.”
“I know how to clean up my messes. She won’t be bothering me again.” That grin is still on his face, which concerns me. Is he lying to me? Hiding something behind that grin?
“Is that the only reason you came over here?” he asks. “Because I must tell you, Pearce, our friendship won’t last if you continue to lecture me on my behavior. You’re not exactly a saint. In fact, didn’t you arrange for a murder to take place today?”
I move to the edge of my chair. “How do you know that?”
He chuckles. “Because it was my assignment. I was supposed to complete it weeks ago but I was traveling and just didn’t get around to it. The deadline to complete it was today. I told them I didn’t have time.”
“And they accepted that?”
“It pays to have power.” He smooths his slicked back hair in place.
It’s just like Jack said. Royce can do no wrong. The organization needs him, so they’ll let him get away with things the rest of us wouldn’t be allowed to.
“I suggested they give the assignment to you,” he says.
I burst up from my seat. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Because you needed it. You need to toughen up, Pearce. You’re too emotional, probably because of that woman you’re with. This is why one should never fall in love. It makes you too emotional, and you can’t have emotions in the business we’re in. If you do, you’ll let your guard down and be killed. I’m just looking out for you, Pearce.”
I stare down at him, seething with anger. “I do NOT need you to look out for me, nor do I need you concerning yourself with my emotional state. It’s none of your damn business. And if you EVER tell them to give me an assignment like this again, you will be the one getting killed.”
He smiles. “See? I’ve already toughened you up.” He rises from his chair. “I need to go. I have to be at an event in the city at noon and I’m meeting with an associate at eleven to help me relax. I’ve been feeling a bit tense.”
When he says ‘associate’ I immediately think of Shelby.
“Are you meeting with Sophia?” I ask.
“No.” He pats me on the back. “I wouldn’t take your girl, Pearce. I know how special she is to you.” He walks to the door.
“So you haven’t been with her recently?”
“If I had been, do you really think I’d tell you?” He smirks. “See yourself out.” He leaves, and I’m left alone in the study.
I don’t know what to do with him. He’s always been wild and out of control, but now it’s even worse. Being chosen as our future president has given him more power than he can handle. He’s going to get himself in trouble, and yet no one seems to care. Nobody is keeping tabs on him or punishing his bad behavior.
I’m done dealing with him. I can’t control him. And now he’s interfering with my life, using his influence to dictate my assignments. I need to stay away from him. From here on out, I will see him at meetings and parties, but that’s it. I’m going to keep my distance from Royce.
As I’m driving back to work, my Dunamis cell phone rings. What now? I sigh as I answer it. I punch in my member number and listen.
“Freelancer 579 needs to contact you,” the voice says. “Will you accept the call?”
Freelancer 579 is the one I hired. Freelancers aren’t allowed to call us directly. They have to call into a main number and then the calls are diverted to us. There must be a problem or he wouldn’t be calling. Or maybe he has a question.
“I’ll accept the call,” I say.
I hear a clicking noise and then, “Is this Pearce Kensington?”
The freelancers aren’t supposed to know our names. They know us by numbers, not names. And this doesn’t sound like the man I hired.
“Who is this?”
“It’s the man you tried to kill, you fucking bastard! I do your dirty work and this is how you repay me?”
I pull the car over to th
e side of the road. “Tell me who you are. I know you’re not freelancer 579.”
He lets out a short laugh. “Freelancer 579 is dead. I killed him five minutes ago. This is freelancer 486. The one you screwed over.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never hired you before.”
“Liar!” he screams. “You told me to deliver a package. I did exactly what you told me to do. It’s not my fucking fault that you gave me the wrong address! And now you’re trying to kill me for your own fucking mistake!”
As he talks, I’m putting this together. This is Royce’s mistake. Royce’s original assignment wasn’t to kill this man. It was to deliver some type of package to someone. Probably a package that contained confidential information that was not to be seen by anyone but the person it was intended to go to. But Royce gave the freelancer the wrong address, and now he’s covering his tracks and blaming the freelancer for the error, thus causing the need for him to be killed. I got the kill assignment, and somehow this man found out my name and thinks I’m the one who gave him the wrong address. He obviously doesn’t know about Royce. He knew Royce as a number, not a name. So how did this man get my name?
“It wasn’t me,” I tell the man. “I didn’t give you that assignment.”
“Stop lying!” He breathes in and out, loudly, into the phone. “If I’m being killed, I ain’t going alone. I’m taking your wife with me. How do you like that, you fucking asshole?”
I grip the phone and get back onto the road. “What are you talking about? Where are you? What did you do?”
I hit the gas and speed off, heading toward home.
“She’s a beauty. But then again, I suppose rich guys like you can buy whatever woman you want.”
“Where are you? Tell me where the fuck you are!”
“I’m watching her,” he says in a slow deranged voice. “Tight jeans. White sweater. Long dark hair.”
“If you get anywhere near her, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Go ahead. I know I’ll be killed eventually. But I’m not going alone. I want you to suffer. I’m sick of you bastards making us do your shit, risking everything, while you sit back and count your millions.”
Protecting Her Page 7
