by Tessa Teevan
“Do you remember? What painting was in the dining room? The clue must be in that piece, but I don’t think it’s hidden again. It must be the name. Something in the name will tell you where this number leads.”
I rack my brain, but my mind’s blank. “I don’t. I’ll have to think about it, and hopefully, it’ll come to me.”
He lifts my chin and gives me assuring smile. “It’s okay, Brie. It’s Saturday evening. The banks and post office are closed. It’ll have to wait until Monday anyway.”
I frown. “But we leave on Monday.”
“Change of plans, sweetheart. I’ll call and make new flight arrangements. There’s no point in going back to Philadelphia when there are leads here.”
The hope in his eyes gives me a moment of relief before I remember I still have no idea what my dad is trying to tell me. “God, what do you think it could be?”
“Like I said…a post office or security deposit box where he could hide something and you’d only be able to get if you knew the code.” His eyes rise to meet mine. “We have to figure out the painting.”
The blood drains from my face. “Code?” I stammer.
He nods then taps his fingers on his chin. “You’d need a key for a post office box, but a security deposit one? He could have given the bank a secret code and a list of names of approved people. If I were a betting man, I’d put my money on the security deposit box.”
“I just need time. I’ll figure it out,” I tell him, hoping like hell it’s the truth.
He sits forward and kisses my lips. “You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go relax in the bath while I do some work?”
I frown, wanting to watch, and he chuckles as he reads my mind.
“Trust me, it’s just boring paperwork. You won’t miss anything. I promise.”
“Okay. A bath actually sounds great. Sure you don’t want to join me?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
Rafe chuckles but shakes his head. “As good as that sounds, I do need to get some work done. Next time?”
I sigh my disappointment. “I’m holding you to that,” I tell him as I start towards the bathroom.
He catches my hand and pulls me to the bed, giving me one last long, lingering kiss. “You better.”
After my bath, the tension of the day has washed away. A calm sense of relaxation and peace have enveloped me. When I step into the bedroom, Rafe’s sitting at the desk, staring intently at the computer screen. I say his name, but he’s lost in thought and doesn’t respond.
Getting comfortable on the bed, I stretch out on my belly, resting my head in my hand. It’s uncanny how in his element he is right now. As if he were made for this. I suppose he was.
He looks the same when he’s in low-rise jeans and a cut-off while wielding a hammer. As if he were made for construction work.
That’s what makes him a good undercover agent—versatility. He has it in spades, and each look is sexy on him.
He still hasn’t noticed my presence. Every so often he removes the pencil between his teeth to make a note, always putting it back in place when he’s done. His brow wrinkles. His mouth turns down or in a straight line depending on what he’s reading. It’s currently in a frown as he leans forward, peering at the screen as if he’s come across something interesting.
Then he sits back, runs a hand through his hair, and mutters a low, drawn-out, “Fuck.”
Again, I go unnoticed when I call his name out. I rise up and scramble across the room, tapping him on the shoulder. He doesn’t even seem to notice.
“What is it?” I ask.
He jumps with a start when he hears my voice. Slamming the laptop shut, he turns to look at me. His forced smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Then he stands and rubs his palms on his jeans before looking up at me.
“You know what? I’m starving and feeling a little antsy. What do you say we get out for a bite? You can take me to one of those hidden gems you found with your parents? Some fresh air sounds good right about now.” His tone is anxious.
I place a hand on my hip and study him. “Rafe. What is it?”
“It’s nothing. Just work stuff,” he says, tearing his eyes from mine. He grabs a jacket and shrugs it on, crossing to the door before turning and looking at me expectantly.
My eyes narrow, and I move closer to the laptop. “Does it concern me?”
He swallows hard and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh. Leaning back against the door, he folds his arms across his chest. “I found the property records.”
“You did? Well, who bought it?”
“Brie, just leave it for now. Let’s go out. We’ve done enough digging for today.”
“No,” I respond firmly and march across the room until I’m directly in front of him. I push his chest with my hand. “Why are you trying to keep this from me?”
“Fine,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the edge of the bed.
“Rafe, just tell me. Who owns my parents’ home?”
His eyes darken, and his nostrils flare. Then he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth before popping it out.
“Adrian. Adrian is the one who owns your home.”
AFTER I DISCLOSE THAT information to Brie, she suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, which is more than fine with me. The rest of the night is spent outside the hotel room, exploring the side streets of Chicago as we walk hand in hand towards our destination—a chic Belgian waffle sandwich shop she claims is to die for. Her nose wrinkles and her face crumples when we stand outside the building, the massive “for sale” sign staring back at us.
As she peers into the window, she shakes her head. “I can’t believe it’s closed. This was the last place we ate together.”
Her spirits are crushed after that. We end up at some hole-in-the-wall burger joint where I barely manage to get her to eat half of her sandwich. Jokingly and trying to lighten the mood, I remind her she’s eating for two. With a watery smile, she finishes her meal and yawns, telling me that she is now also sleeping for two.
Long after she falls asleep, curled in a ball next to me, I lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that happened today.
As the sun rises, Brie shifts and rolls over, the sound of her soft breathing filling the silence. I hate that she’s involved in this. I hate that Andrew left clues only she can decipher.
Suddenly, I know what I have to do. And I need to do it before she wakes up.
I gingerly rise from the bed and quietly get dressed. I scrawl out a note for her in case she wakes, telling her that I’ll be back as soon as possible and to stay put until she hears from me. And, of course, that I love her.
My hands flex on the wheel the closer I get to her house, glad I had the wherewithal to unlock a window at the back of the house. All I have to do is slip inside, take a snapshot of the painting, and slip back out.
Easy as fucking pie. And then Brie won’t have to scramble to remember.
I park the car in front of her house and get out, looking around. It’s a quiet Sunday morning, hours before the church crowd will be leaving their homes. Five minutes. That’s all I need.
Then my phone rings.
“Boss,” I answer, leaning against the rental car and holding the phone to my ear. Talk about bad fucking timing.
“When were you going to tell me, Matthews?” His voice is stern and harsh.
My heartbeat quickens as I glance up. “Sir?”
“About the baby, Matthews. You kept that from me and I want to know why. This changes everything.”
The glee in his voice is unsettling. Why would he care? What could it possibly change?
And then, with a boisterous laugh, he answers my questions and informs me of his plans.
I bite back the response that’s on the tip of my tongue.
Over my dead fucking body.
I STRETCH MY ARMS out and go stock-still—the bed is empty next to me. My eyes spring open, and I sit up, looking a
round and listening for sounds of him. Rafe’s no longer in the room. There’s a sheet of paper on the nightstand next to the bed, and I reach across the bed and grab it.
With a heavy sigh, I push the covers off and get ready for the day, hoping I won’t be cooped up for too long. I take my time, but after about an hour, I start getting antsy, so I pace the room. Rafe doesn’t answer his phone, and he doesn’t respond to my messages. I wonder what he could be doing. After the fifth unanswered call, I can no longer sit in this hotel room alone.
There’s something I want to do—something I have to do.
I know exactly where I want to go.
I scribble out my own note before leaving the hotel room. Trepidation floods my senses as I step outside, but I push my fears away, knowing I have to do this.
After I exit the cab, I’m stuck in place as I take my surroundings in.
There’s a slight chill in the air. I pull my sweater tighter around me and will myself to move one step at a time. The leaves are crinkly and dry, crunching underneath my feet as I walk towards the entrance.
I stroll through the cemetery, my eyes falling on the different headstones I pass. What are their stories? Who is the loved one who brings fresh flowers, grieving and paying respects? Is it therapeutic to come to this place where our loved ones are buried in boxes, nothing but decaying matter and dusty bones? Or are we torturing ourselves with these rituals? Do I need the glaring tombstone with the names of my parents as finite proof that they’re gone? Will it really dull the pain?
My breath catches as I come upon them. Shocking waves of pain stab at my heart, and my knees buckle as I’m transported back to the day they were buried here. I kneel on the grass between their stones and fold my legs beneath me, tracing both of their names.
“I don’t know where to start,” I say, feeling silly as I talk to the air. My voice trembles, and tears well in my eyes, but I push through the pain. “So much has happened and I can’t even make sense of most of it. I…I met a man. It’s been a crazy whirlwind, but I love him. It turns out you even know him, Dad. Small world, huh?”
I laugh through the tears. “He’s keeping the promise he made you. He’s kept me safe, and I’ve never felt more cherished or loved. I wish you could meet him, Mom. I know you’d love him. God, I wish you were here. It was unexpected and definitely not planned, but I’m pregnant. We’re expecting, and the only way I could be happier is if the two of you were here.”
I pause, staring at the headstones, willing them to talk back—wishing I could hear their voices again. But that’s the thing about wishes, right?
They very rarely come true.
I lean forward and place my hands on the tombstones, closing my eyes and silently telling them goodbye. Then I promise that it won’t be so long between visits next time.
And when I turn around, I gasp in horror as I look into the eyes of the man who did this to me.
A sinister smile spreads over his face as he brings his hands together, steepling his index fingers, watching me with hawk like eyes.
“Hello, Gabriella. I’ve been expecting you.”
And just like before, my world goes black.
The End
Stay Tuned for Culmination, the final book in the Clandestine Affairs series. Coming early 2016.
Can’t Stop Now - Tyler Hilton
Back At The Start - Needmore
The Mess I Made - Parachute
Slow Me Down - Sara Evans
Crash Land - Twin Atlantic
Sex Therapy - Robin Thicke
Mercy - Duffy
Raining on Sunday - Keith Urban
Cry With You - Hunter Hayes
Love The Way You Lie - Eminem featuring Rihanna
When Finally Set Free - Copeland
Dead Sea - The Lumineers
Heartbeat Song - Kelly Clarkson
Hold On - Twin Atlantic
If That’s What It Takes - Tank
Next Breath - Tank
Lay Me Down - Sam Smith, John Legend
I’m a twenty something book junkie who decided that there were too many stories in my head to keep to myself. It’s a crazy, busy life, and I love every single second of it.
If I’m not writing or looking through tons of photos of hot men, all in the name of research, then you can probably find me curled up with my Kindle, ignoring the rest of the world. I love my sports almost as much as I love my books. My other obsessions include red wine, hot men, country music, and all things Grace Potter.
I LOVE to hear from readers, so please feel free to contact via any social media site listed below.
Website: http://tessateevanauthor.blogspot.com/
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Email: [email protected]
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7170636.Tessa_Teevan
