I recognize that voice with every fiber of my being. How could I not? I’d come to loathe it. Disbelieving, I whirl around.
Kaylee Whittacker slams to a halt right at the glass wall, her blue eyes wide and her mouth falling open at the sight of me.
“You bitch.”
57
15 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .
“Apologize to her,” Andrew warns behind me. “Right. Now.”
Is he fucking serious? He’s asking me to apologize to her? Raw, sadistic rage, the likes of which I’ve never felt, incinerates the blood in my veins. The agony razes through me, obliterating my humanity.
Betrayal. It makes no sense, but I choke on this insane feeling of betrayal.
Blood rushing to my face, I spin around—
He’s glaring at Kaylee, not me.
A smidgen of reason breaks through. I thought it, but . . . I didn’t really say that? No. Apparently, those words had come from her.
“Drew, are you serious?” she asks.
I hate the way she’s fucking talking to him, all that familiarity, as if they’re still close. The fury that had begun to dissipate reignites, a thousand times more powerful than before. Did he stay in contact with her? Remain friends?
Something more?
I’m shaking. About to collapse from the sheer bloodlust flooding me.
Stephen stayed friends with her. Works with her. Fucks her.
She actually grew up enough to become the head of her father’s company.
But Stephen was never stupid enough to allow her in front of me. I haven’t seen the bitch since we were in school together.
Andrew comes to a stop next to me. “Kaylee, I really, really would love for our companies to do business together. But that can’t happen if you can’t respect Lexi. She’s now my right hand and I expect everyone we work with to respect us both.” There’s no room for negotiation in that tone.
Battling for control, I rip my stare off the floor and focus on Kaylee. She’s glaring at me and Andrew. More accurately, at the half-an-inch of space he left between our bodies.
She’s always been beautiful with her black hair and blue eyes, but for a second, her expression twists, showing a glimpse of the ugliness within.
“We stand to make billions together, Kaylee.”
Ugh. He’s using that same “logical” tone he used with me earlier.
Inhaling deeply, Kaylee leashes her aggression. I see the moment the jealousy and hatred in her dark blue eyes morphs into greed. Whatever Andrew is offering to let her partner on, it’s clearly more attractive to her than our mutual hatred.
She faces me, expression flattening into a composed mask, and she says, “I apologize, Ms. Berkman.”
Well. Well. Well. Ms. Kaylee Whittacker has actually become a businesswoman. My surprise at her self-control must show on my face, because her lips twitch with what I can only assume is annoyance.
“Thank you, Kaylee. Now, if we’re all ready?” Andrew poses it as a question, but he’s already walking toward the sitting area at the other end of his office.
Kaylee follows him willingly, her covetous eyes eating up his tall, large form.
I blink, surprised to find my hand fisting tightly around my notepad.
And, no. It has nothing to do with her presence anymore.
Shit. Am I actually pissed off at the fact that she’s sexually molesting him with her eyes?
Yes.
Yes, I am.
I’m as angry about that as I am at the thought that they remained close all these years.
Kaylee sits on the black sofa, facing the wall.
Andrew stops next to the sofa opposite, waiting for me.
Something loosens in my gut.
Composing myself, I walk there and sit down on the couch. Andrew takes the seat next to me, less than a foot away.
Kaylee’s eyes flash momentarily to the space left between his thigh and mine. Other than that, she gives no other outward reaction.
She’s going to run to tell Stephen about this. The thought blindsides me out of nowhere, and I can barely maintain my composed facade. Of course she is. God, how could Andrew even think that working with her is a good idea?
My eyes flicker in his direction. Is that what he planned? Why he brought her here?
Andrew leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “Your company is one of the best when it comes to platform development.”
Kaylee lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at his compliment.
“That’s why I want to partner with you on our biggest project yet.”
No. Come on. He can’t be serious.
“Drew,” Kaylee breathes, eyes sparkling. “Rumors have been spreading for months about your Providence project. The entire market is on fire with speculation as to what you’re actually creating.”
“Exactly, Kaylee. And I want your company to be a part of that.”
Apparently, he is serious.
He just asked one of Menahan’s biggest allies to join our project.
Is he out of his damned mind?
“Jesus, Drew. I can’t believe you would trust me with this.” She places her hand on her heart, still looking at him like he’s her hero.
I’ve been fisting my pen the entire time, mute. When Andrew smiles at her, I don’t give a damn that the smile never reaches his eyes. I still want to jam my pen into one of them.
“That being said, Kaylee. I do have to ask. Will working with me be an issue in regards to your on-going contracts with Menahan?”
58
14 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .
At some point during the last hour, I started taking notes on my pad. I have no idea what I’m writing down, but I figure that pretending to be useful is better than the alternative—sitting here, consumed by my anger.
Kaylee’s fawning over him, acting like everything he says is the best idea she’s ever heard. And the hunger in her eyes . . .
One thing is disgustingly blatant. If I never actually had that dick and I couldn’t forget it, imagine how much worse it is on her end. She had it once.
“Drew, is that your bathroom back there?” she asks.
Andrew nods. “By all means.”
Another besotted smile and then she’s gone.
Andrew turns to face me immediately, his hand landing on my knee. “Lexi.”
I jerk away, hissing, “Don’t touch me!”
He grabs my waist, holding me in place. “It’s all part of the endgame, baby,” he whispers for my ears only.
I’m out of my fucking mind, that’s the only explanation I have for what leaves my mouth next. “She still wants to fuck you.”
His eyes widen, then flash with hunger. He yanks me to him, until there’s nothing but an inch between our faces. “You know I don’t want her.” His breath fans across my lips as he speaks.
I’m irrational, and I’m aware of it. Still doesn’t mean I can find enough self-control to shut the hell up. “You’re letting her in on the Providence project!”
Andrew’s hand slides down my side, past the hem of my skirt. My entire body vibrates as he caresses my thigh.
“A-Andrew? What are you doing?”
His eyes drop to my lips, full of that seething, unsettling intensity. “Lexi, I’m going to kiss you now.”
My eyes dart in the direction of his closed bathroom door.
Still closed.
Instead of rejecting him outright, I ask, “Why?”
His lips quirk but the rest of his expression remains the same—Serious. Determined. “I’ll finish explaining everything later. For now, I’m going to kiss you. Now, say yes.”
Odd, confusing man. He’s pretty much telling me he’s taking this kiss from me, but he still wants me to agree to it.
His hand tightens around my thigh and his thumb slips under the hem of my dress. “Say yes, baby.”
My lips part slowly on a stuttering breath, and my crossed
legs press together tightly, locking his thumb between them. With a rotating heart, and a demonic instinct demanding that I push this man back on this couch and mount him, I fight for the strength needed to resist him.
To say no.
When I finally manage to speak, I’m not even surprised to hear what leaves my mouth in a tiny whisper. “Yes.”
His brow snaps down, a pain groaned seemingly ripped from him.
And then his lips are on my mine again, tongue slipping straight inside my mouth. I can’t hold back my hungry moan, can’t stop my nails from sinking into his shoulders and bringing him closer . . .
Hand painfully tight around my thigh, he twines his tongue slowly with mine. Licking me. Teasing me. His harsh breaths mix with my frantic ones, but despite that insane, leashed aggression I feel in him, he keeps this kiss soft.
Passionate but gentle.
My nails sink deeper into his skin with my frustration. Mindless, I shift closer, biting down on his lip hard—
He yanks away from me, pupils blown, chest pumping. Our sides remain close together, no space between us.
Dear God, I almost launch myself at him, that’s how painful this is. How unbearable the hole in my being feels. I wanted him all these years, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself, but now it’s back full force.
An addiction reawakened.
A need grown crazier.
I’m still fucking reeling when the bathroom door opens and Kaylee steps out.
Immediately, her eyes fall to Andrew’s still-racing chest. Then, down, down, locking on his crotch.
It takes me two seconds to identify the murderous intent roaring in my veins.
When she can pull her eyes away from his swollen, needy cock, she takes in how our bodies are touching. How Andrew is still angled toward me.
Eyes flashing, she stares at my lips.
At my no doubt swollen, wet lips.
Andrew makes no move to put space between us.
And as Kaylee makes her way back to the couch, her hands fisted at her sides, I realize:
He did this on purpose, too.
Don’t know how I know, but Kaylee was probably talking to Menahan in that bathroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually turns out that she’s spying on us for him.
Something Andrew also suspects and he wanted her to see this.
He wanted her to know.
She’s going to run to inform Stephen that we’re intimate—and Andrew fucking Drevlow was betting on it.
59
My father’s back slams onto the porch.
I land on top of him. Before I even make contact, I’m already wailing on him. My fist collides with his mouth and I swear I hear the impact echo.
A lifetime of rage. Of hate. At least fourteen years building up to this point.
And my father laughs.
His lips split in a wide smile, even as blood floods his mouth and coats his teeth. “You’ll never find her.”
He tries to block my next hit.
He fails.
I get three more hits in before Finn and my father’s bodyguards make it to the porch. The bodyguards grab me. They manage to jerk me off him.
Growling, I throw my weight back, taking one of the guards with me across the porch. His body slams into the railing. The weight of me slamming into his mid-section knocks the wind out of him.
The other two come at me.
“No! Stop!” My father gets to his feet, wiping a hand across his bloody mouth. “The boy thinks that he’s finally a man. Let him up.”
Foolish, egotistical bastard. I’ve been training my body to destroy him for years now.
Even if I didn’t know it.
I feel my lips twist into a bitter smirk. “Do yourself a favor and tell me where she is.”
My father sneers. “Never.”
I’ve never moved so fast in my life.
Hands fisting his blazer, I send us both flying down the stairs and onto the cement walkway leading to the porch. My arm scrapes across concrete.
I barely feel it.
My father wraps his hands around my neck to immobilize me.
Too late.
I slam my foot into his stomach, sending him flying sideways onto the grass. Just as fast, I’m on top of him again, my fist connecting with his head. “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”
His fist collides with my face but that’s the only hit he gets in before self-preservation takes over. Trying to shield his head with his arms, he screams back, “Never! Even if I did know, I’d never tell you!”
I pause.
He doesn’t know where she is. He might have helped her get away from here as fast as possible, but he doesn’t know her final destination.
My hands latch around his neck and I begin squeezing down with all my strength. “You. Will. Find. Her.”
Face red, veins bulging, my father claws at my arms.
“You’re going to put every single asset you command to use to locate her and you’re going to do it RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”
Somehow, as he’s suffocating, skin turning purple, he manages to shake his head.
No.
One single world and all of a sudden my father’s life loses all meaning.
Suddenly, an entire lifetime of pain whispers to me. Tells me that this is worth it. That he deserves this.
Finn screams out behind me, “You’ll never find her if you go to jail for killing him!”
The words register. I know he’s being logical. That he has a point.
My hands tighten around my father’s neck, almost as if separated from my body. As if I was born to end this man’s life and now that destiny has come knocking, there is no denying my life’s purpose.
Disjointed thoughts echo in my head. Need to kill him. End him. Make him suffer. Make him pay.
Hands grab my shoulders and I feel a sting in my neck. Immediately, there’s a rush beneath my skin, a cold sensation.
I jerk back, raising one hand to elbow whoever is behind me.
The world’s spinning but it doesn’t matter. I’m back to choking my father, ignoring his attempts to buck me off.
Harder. Harder. He’s struggling now. Losing consciousness . . .
More hands grab me.
Another prick to the other side of my neck.
Enraged, I realize what they’re doing to me.
I’m being drugged. Tranquilized so I won’t kill that bastard for what he’s done.
I roar, trying to break loose—
Something slams into my stomach, knocking the air and the last of my fight out of me.
Body falling limp, I struggle to stay awake, even as a black van pulls up at the curve and I’m dragged toward it.
My father’s hoarse voice reaches me through the fog. “Get him back to the fucking house where I can set him straight.”
“Mr. Drevlow,” Finn interrupts.
My father isn’t hearing it. “I’m sorry Mr. Walsh, this has nothing to do with you. This is family business.”
“But where are you—”
“Have a good day, Mr. Walsh.”
I’m lifted and thrown into the back of the van, face up. Struggling to stay awake, I lift my head—
Just in time to see Finn’s worried expression right before the door is slid closed.
I last exactly three more seconds after that before darkness takes over.
The last thought going through my head is Lexi’s name.
60
5 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance. . .
What a fucking crazy day.
Exhausted, I walk into my loft, dropping my keys onto the side table by the door. It’s 7:12pm and I’m just getting home.
After the meeting with Kaylee, Andrew spent all day in the medical and pharmaceutical division of the company. He’d been overseeing my mother’s transfer. At around 2:00pm, as I’d been in the middle of looking through my new assistant’s resume, he called me downstairs.
My mother is now on the thirty-
six floor of Drevlow Systems, Inc. Six floors beneath my new office. When I walked into the room they’re keeping her in, and I saw the tube inserted into her side, my legs gave out.
Most fucked up part? Andrew was there to catch me.
Tears spring to my eyes. “Don’t think about it,” I tell myself, walking tiredly toward my living room. My massive desktop is in one corner, on the desk in front of the exposed brick wall.
My heart thunders as I get closer because I know what I’m about to do.
I know what it’s going to cost me.
But it’s about damn time I find out the truth of what exactly happened all those years ago.
For the first time ever, doubt creeps in. What if he’s innocent? What if . . . you ran away from him and it all wasn’t really his fault?
Then everything that happened to me the last seven years would be all my fault.
Tears start leaking down my cheeks, hot trails of misery and fear, but it doesn’t stop me. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Andrew all day after Kaylee left. I have no idea what his plan is.
What I do know is that that man looks at me like I’m the only reason he’s still here.
What I do know is that six years ago, something really fucked up happened to him and it changed the boy I once loved.
I also know I watched the video of Andrew confessing to the cops.
But something isn’t adding up. The neat little version of events I convinced myself were the facts are systematically falling apart.
Dropping into my chair, I fire up my computer. As soon as it’s online, I open my browser and start typing.
Andrew Drevlow 2010. Our senior year. The year I disappeared.
I figure if I start there and work my way forward, the pieces of the puzzle will begin falling into place.
Immediately, on top of the results, there’s a slew of YouTube videos.
Sitting closer to the monitor, I squint, disbelieving of what I’m seeing . . .
One specific video seems to show Andrew on top of . . . on top of his father?
The title of the video proves my suspicion of what that thumbnail is showing me.
Systematic Siege #4 (Siege Serial) Page 3
