Trust

by Casey Diam

  Pulling my phone from my pocket and making sure I used the nickname I’d come up with for Paige, I typed Calvin a quick message.

  Me: Pick up KP from work tonight and keep a closer eye on her for the next few days. Something’s about to go down, and I don’t know what it is yet.

  After I sent and deleted that message, I typed another to Paige.

  Me: Something came up. Can’t pick you up, but Calvin will. He’s like a brother to me. You can trust him, so don’t worry.

  Then I forwarded my calls to the new phone I’d bought specifically to correspond with Paige and the four guys I had watching her. It was left hidden in my room, but if I was gone for too long, I knew she would call me and probably on this phone, too, since I’d just texted her from it. Calvin knew not to call, but she didn’t.

  Within fifteen minutes, my brother was sniffing a line on the kitchen counter because, apparently, doing it next to the woman who had died due to the same recreational activities was “a buzzkill.”

  Five of my dad’s men showed a few minutes later and were soon spread out in the room. Two rolled out an all-too-familiar thick plastic on the floor while the other three started to wipe down the place. The maid’s laundry cart was positioned in the middle of the living room, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out how they planned to get the body out of the building.

  Leaning on a wall in the living room, all I could do was watch and shake my head as my brother gave orders.

  “Pat, you can go take over the security cams. You know what to do.” He turned to me. “Caleb, ah, jeez, don’t look so pissed. We’ve done this before. And don’t worry; she was a complete slut. Sucked off two of my friends before she even got to me.”

  My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “Shut up, dude. Just shut the fuck up.”

  In twenty minutes, we were out of the hotel and sitting inside an SUV, and right before the highway, a bag was thrown over my head.

  The fairy tale was over.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Paige

  “Sorry if I smell like stale beer,” I muttered, getting into the car parked in front of Stilts.

  “Rough night?” Calvin asked.

  “You could say that.”

  Chelsey was still mad at me. I hadn’t expected her to be, but her “accidental” spill of draft beer all over me had proven otherwise. It could have been an accident, but since we’d been working together, we’d developed such fluid movements that we hadn’t run into each other in two years. So, her not speaking to me all night combined with the beer spill could hardly be considered unintentional.

  Tossing a glance around the inside of the car as Calvin pulled from the curb, I asked, “Is this your car?”

  “Yeah, I know it’s no Challenger, but it gets me around.”

  The car wasn’t beat up, but I could tell it was at least a good ten years old. A strong air freshener was trying but failing to cover the stench of old tobacco smoke clinging to the fabric seats. It was the same car that had come the night after the accident. But not Calvin.

  I said, “It wasn’t you who came the night of the accident.”

  He glanced at me. “Yeah, I know.” Then he paused as if contemplating whether he should go on. “Caleb didn’t know if he wanted us to meet then, so I asked a friend for a favor.”

  I remembered Caleb’s words.

  “He’s the only person I trust with my life.”

  It was Calvin’s car, and Caleb wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to help him out like that. “Were you there?”

  “Fuck, maybe we shouldn’t talk.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re a lot smarter than the girls I usually talk to, which means I’ll get myself in trouble with you.”

  “With me or with Caleb?”

  Calvin chuckled and swiped a hand over his low-cut hair. “Fuck.”

  “Where is he?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  I nodded, watching him. I still needed to know what I should associate with him. I liked consistency. Things that would alert me if something changed, if he was no longer the same. Those things would let me know whether to lower my guard, or raise it.

  Chelsey had changed. She was all for me meeting someone, pushing me toward him almost until she met him. Then, she’d changed her mind. The good part of me had wanted to believe she was being a friend, being protective, but the scared girl who was used to being alone had known better. Still, I was surprised she would direct her relationship problems at me, but it was something I would have to figure out later because something else didn’t feel right. Caleb was supposed to pick me up.

  “One more question. Do you smoke?” I asked.

  “No. It’s my mom’s old car. She smoked... a lot,” Calvin answered, confirming why Caleb had said he could be trusted. He was authentic in the way he answered me, which also meant he really didn’t know where Caleb was, and that was a problem.

  “Cool.”

  Calvin and I didn’t converse the rest of the ride. The other questions I had were for Caleb to answer, questions I’d been avoiding all week, ones that shouldn’t have been avoided. He could be a criminal for all I knew.

  ❧

  Sitting on the floor in the closet, I stared down at Caleb’s things, a cup of chamomile tea between my hands. At six in the morning, my brain was still up and alert, and still, I’d heard nothing from Caleb. It could also be that he’d decided to stay at the hotel in his suite... maybe he was asleep or he thought I was asleep. Maybe that was why he hadn’t called.

  He’ll call.

  That was what I kept telling myself all day until it was time for my shift to start at the bar, and still, nothing from Caleb.

  After another exhausting shift with Chelsey, I expected to take the train home. But, when I stepped out of the bar, Calvin’s car was there waiting.

  As I paused in contemplation, he rolled the window down. “Come on, princess.”

  “Uh...” I stared at Chelsey’s car parked behind Calvin’s. Ian was in there. I could only see a figure inside, but I knew it was him.

  “Making her way around the block these days,” Chelsey muttered loud enough for me to hear as she opened the door to her car. “Sometimes, you just think you know people.”

  I took a deep breath and marched toward Calvin’s car in my once-again beer-infused work clothes.

  “What’s her problem?” Calvin asked.

  Buckling my seat belt, I said, “I am.”

  “You want me to put her in her place?”

  “What? What are you—no.” I stared at him in wonder. Put her in her place?

  “Hey, you’re Caleb’s person right now. And I’m sure that, if he were the one sitting here, he wouldn’t let her get away with talking to you like that.”

  Caleb’s person? How sweet.

  I scrunched my face as I tried to determine what being Caleb’s person meant.

  “Caleb will not hear about this, Calvin. I fight my own battles.” I stared him down until he nodded, and then I asked, “Where is he?”

  “He cares about you,” was all Calvin disclosed, as if that was supposed to gratify my curiosity.

  It wasn’t until I was getting out of the car to head into the apartment building that he confided, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but he always comes back.”

  What?

  Pursing my lips, I nodded and hurried up to Caleb’s apartment. I knew he wouldn’t be there, but his things were, and the answers I needed could be, too.

  Climbing on top of the kitchen island, I scanned the tops of the cupboards and fridge, but nothing. I went through all the cupboards. Then I looked beneath the leather couch and searched the stitching for any signs of being ripped open and sewn back together. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I wasn’t stopping until I found it.

  I looked at his guitar in the corner like I was scared of the damn thing, and then I turned my attention to the window. I walked toward it. I didn�
�t know how I hadn’t realized this before, but I could look right into my own apartment from his window. If I wasn’t someone who’d always kept the shades down and my curtains closed...

  My eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t adding up. Actually, nothing was adding up.

  Making my way to the closet, I dug through the black duffel bag. His gym bag, I guessed, judging from the sneakers, workout shorts, and T-shirts I found inside, but nothing else.

  “Ugh,” I groaned.

  This place was empty.

  Unzipping the small pocket at the front of the duffel, I stuck my hand inside and pulled out a room key. Luxe was written beneath a gold stripe on the card. I smiled. His suite at Luxe. It was where he’d lived before here and was also where he said he could still sleep if I needed space here, which meant there had to be something there.

  Why would he move out of a luxury hotel to this place, which was coincidentally right across from my apartment?

  I stood up. I needed to find his room.

  I cursed. “There are hundreds of rooms in that place.”

  But there were usually fewer suites than there were rooms in hotels. I grabbed my laptop and opened it in the closet on the floor, and then I searched for Luxe.

  But how am I going to get to his room?

  The staff wouldn’t help me.

  Another idea popped into my head. I could book a room in the hotel and find his room from there. I didn’t care if it meant scanning his card at fifty different room doors. I had to find his room. Something was going on, and Caleb was a part of it. I was, too. The accident with me inside his car had proven that.

  A quick Google search told me it was five hundred dollars a night for a room.

  “Are you kidding me? Damn it.”

  I chewed on my lip, clicking through the pictures of the place. It looked elegant. No wonder Caleb wore those tailored Armani suits to work. I looked up at the three dry-cleaned suits hanging and remembered what Calvin had said.

  “He cares about you.”

  For some reason, I believed Calvin, and it helped to settle the escalating fear that I’d actually been sleeping with the enemy. Sighing, I closed my laptop and tried to think of another way to get in, but I hadn’t slept the night before, and I was drained. Mentally and physically.

  Wait!

  It was a Saturday night—or morning actually—but if I went to the hotel and requested to see Caleb—he was a young handsome guy, I was sure he used to have girls over all the time. Who would dare deny him of his late-night booty call?

  I grinned.

  ❧

  Walking up to the shiny granite countertop, I leaned against it and smiled at the woman sitting at the front desk of Luxe’s lobby. Her black hair was wrapped in a tight bun, and she had on a black jacket over a crisp pink-collared shirt.

  “How may I help you?”

  “Um, this is going to sound horrible.” I gave a little laugh for effect. “Uh, Caleb, the manager, he invited me over. But I can’t reach him now”—frowny face—”and, well, I’m here, and the only thing he left me was his key, but I have no idea which suite is his.”

  “He left you his key?” she asked, a blatant look of disbelief on her face.

  “Yes. Is that so hard to believe? I mean, we are sleeping together.”

  “Yes, but Mr. Connor does not give out his keys. Excuse me.” She lowered her head to her computer, effectively dismissing me.

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  “Yes?” she asked, lips pursing.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes. Mr. Connor,” she started, looking satisfied with what she was about to say, “he sleeps with a lot of women, and well, you’re not the first girl to come here. That is why both he and his brother have strict instructions. No one is allowed to enter the floor their suites are on unless escorted personally by either one of them.”

  “Well, can you try to call his room? He’s been sleeping at my apartment for the past couple of nights. I don’t live close by, and as I said, I’m here, so...” I flicked the card up, and she squinted as if still not wanting to believe what she was seeing. “I don’t know how long you’ve been working here, but I’m guessing you probably don’t want to piss him off.”

  “I cannot call his room at this hour. Are you trying to get me fired?”

  “Let’s see... it’s four thirty in the morning. I’m guessing he probably fell asleep after he told me to come over, which is why all I need is his room number, and I’ll be out of your hair. Or you could not give me the room number, and I’ll just sit here and wait and hope he won’t be too upset when he finds I’ve been waiting all this time. At which point, I’ll probably just throw his stupid key in his face. And, well”—I smirked—”you’ll have to tell me how it goes after that.”

  “Two-three-zero-one.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Caleb

  It was pitch-black around us, except for the small lantern casting its light from the ground a few feet away. Sweat dripped from the tip of my nose onto the patch of dirt as I shoveled the loose dirt back in its rightful place with two other men. We’d been out in the middle of the woods digging for hours, and we were finally filling the six-foot black hole before us.

  I didn’t know what time it was, didn’t even know where we were. Since it had been almost daybreak yesterday when we left Brad’s suite, they’d decided it would be better to move forward tonight. I had been held up at my father’s house for the whole day before we journeyed here, and I still didn’t have my phone, but from experience, I knew I wouldn’t get it back until this was over. They didn’t trust me, and having a phone meant I would be able to track where I’d been by GPS or call someone to turn them in, and they couldn’t have that because there was no room for mistakes.

  After another hour, we hiked back out of the woods, and it took yet another hour before we reached the road. Two minutes later, the SUV rolled to a stop at the side of the road where the black bag used as a blindfold was once again thrown over my head.

  When they removed the blindfold, we were pulling up to my father’s house—or apartment building since that was what it used to be. The last time I had been here in this same position, I couldn’t leave for sixty days or have any contact with the outside world. I had been held prisoner by my own father and his men.

  The rules were simple. If I didn’t cooperate, I would suffer the consequences, and people would die. For that reason, I hadn’t spoken since yesterday.

  As soon as the garage door hit the concrete, all four doors to the SUV swung open. A second later, everyone began stripping down to their underwear and dumping their clothes in a garbage bag on the ground.

  Brad came through the side door that led inside the house. He hadn’t even gone with us to bury the body. If I didn’t know better, I would say he was truly the son of Alex Connor, letting other people do his dirty work and being awarded for bad behavior.

  I was the last one to put all my clothes in the pile, including shoes.

  “Three of you, clean up the vehicle and cut out the carpeting from the back. Caleb, head to the shower.”

  To be twenty-four and treated like a little bitch by your kid brother.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked down as I walked by him.

  Keep calm.

  Brad shoved his hand into my chest, stopping my progress. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is that?”

  I kept my eyes forward because, if I acknowledged him, I would engage. Engaging would make it worse. Engaging would get someone dismembered. Engaging would have someone—

  “Who’s the girl?”

  Then I remembered the fading but still huge-ass hickey and teeth mark, courtesy of Paige. Fuck, I wished she would leave this fucking state—or country for that matter. Because whatever Brad had done to that girl couldn’t happen to her. I would fucking lose it.

  “Come on, you get to see all my girls. Where’s the brotherly love?”

  I moved forward without punching him in the face because, th
ough all the muscles had bunched together in my body in preparation, this wasn’t the time.

  After a shower, I was given a suit, and it was then I knew there wouldn’t be any punishment—at least, in their eyes. Burying the innocent girl who had thought she could trust Brad was punishment in itself. Another thing I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

  “Mr. Connor invites you to join the rest for breakfast,” a maid called from the other side of my closed bedroom door. A room that felt suffocating and haunting, though it held no traces of me ever being here.

  “What time is it?” I asked, needing to get back to Paige as soon as possible. That was if she was even still around after I’d disappeared on her. What if she’d run away?

  I needed my phone back.

  “It’s 5:30 a.m.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I said, opening the door and moving by her and toward the stairs. I needed to get out of here.

  “Caleb, my office,” Alex Connor said, walking out into the foyer as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Fuck me.

  I sighed, following him into his office. My skin crawled with the unnerving tension in the air as I remembered the camera still in his office.

  What if someone had found it?

  “How do you feel?” he asked, walking to his desk.

  Oh, I don’t know. How should one feel after being forced by their father to bury a girl your brother had murdered?

  Nope, wrong answer. I knew the right answer to this.

  Don’t be a smart-ass. Don’t be a—

  “Fine.” My teeth ground.

  I was done referring to this man as my father. He was my boss. That was who he’d been since day one.

  “I thought you’d be. I heard you did well out there.”

  I shook my head in disbelief and stopped when he reached his desk and turned.

  “What’s changed?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t give a shit anymore,” I said, which was partially the truth. Giving a shit made everything worse.

  He pulled open a drawer from his desk and held out my phone to me. He had a fresh haircut; I could tell by the perfect lining around his forehead. It was crazy how he still looked the same as he had when I was a kid. No wrinkles and still had enough muscles to match me or Brad.