Forever Distraction (Distraction #3)

by Stephanie Jean

  His blue eyes pierced right into mine and I saw my princess in him. “You know my sister very well.” I lifted my chin in agreement. “Then you know she doesn’t give second chances.”

  That statement hurt, motherfucking hurt. “You’re wrong, Brian. Even though you blocked her out half her life, she still loves you. I know…I see it in the way she talks about you. Her eyes hold sadness, and she feels. She needs you.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow, and I could tell he was skeptical. “She talked about me? Now I know you’re full of shit.” He turned again, giving me a passive stare before he left. My body started to ache, knowing this was my only shot to get close to her and he was giving me the brushoff.

  “She talked to you about music. You saw the color red the same night you beat the shit out of Jared for his…” my eyes shifted to the men in uniforms around me, “…actions.”

  “Fuck!” he growled. He stormed away this time without stopping, and I was escorted to my Jeep. I knew it was over, just like she said on the phone, and it was fucking agonizing.

  Chapter Seven

  Evidence

  Katarina

  I lifted my chin to Smith Three, who was reading my face intently through the rearview mirror.

  “I want to go to the coffee shop when we get to Slater’s. I feel like a muffin.” I spoke directly to the Smith in the backseat with me, and glanced his way when he didn’t respond. He smiled at me like he thought it was a trick, or maybe the thought of me actually feeling like a muffin was funny; either way, I kind of liked the smile, my mysterious, gray-eyed Smith.

  “I will bring the muffin to you, Ms. Covington, when you are safe inside the building.” Bingo, he thought I was tricking him. I raised my brow at his words; he was challenging me. He was very subtly trying to boss me around. Hell no.

  “No, I like the atmosphere. I’ll eat inside.” My eyes burned into his and he slowly debated his next words. I liked that. His grin dropped, and his face shifted in anger and then defeat. He glanced at the driving Smith and gave him a chin lift, making me want to do a victory dance. Then, he plucked his cell from his jacket pocket and started speaking into it. I wanted to yell, ‘I win…suck it!’

  I counted six more texts from Tommy before I pulled into the Slater building. All the texts progressively got more possessive. I slipped my phone back into my small purse and exited the vehicle. Smith was there, and he was in rare form.

  “Ms. Covington, you look…” he paused and I froze, waiting patiently to tell him where to shove it.

  What the hell? His response was taking mind-numbingly too long. I shrugged to mess with him silently, letting him know I didn’t care what he thought about my looks. “Kat got your tongue, old man?”

  His responding smile was meant to irritate me, but I only felt triumphant. “Older, I was going to say you look older,” What the heck does that mean? “like a runway model…except old,” he teased. I barked out a laugh, because holding it in hurt. He smiled and it was the best thing about my whole morning. “So, coffee shop muffin, huh? I didn’t see you as a coffee shop muffin type of girl.” He was fishing, but I wasn’t biting the hook, wasn’t even going to nibble on it.

  The four of us walked down the street, sticking out like a bright red, sore thumb. One of the Smiths went inside and found a seat, and I was directed to sit next to him. While the other one ordered my muffin, Smith, the old, grumpy one, stood at the door, making all the patrons nervous with his stare-downs.

  The smell of sweet pastries and coffee brought back memories of Jason and his full-teeth smile. My heart skipped and my stomach got silly flutters, and I bowed my head to hide the blush and my idiot grin. The thought hit me that whoever it was wanting to meet me could be Jason. I lifted my eyes and casually scanned the place; it was crowded with people dressed in business suits and skirts, nobody waving a white flag or wearing a red shirt. Gray-eyed Smith was seated to my right and I stared at him, wanting to know more about the man who protected me. He was handsome in a rough military sort of way. His black hair was in a crew cut, and he had no facial hair, creating a clean appearance that combined with his strong facial features to make him seem edgy and dangerous. His eyes zoned in on something, and I observed him nod to Smith at the door as a man approached the table. The man had both hands tightly gripped around the large coffee cups. As he reached our table, the cups came crashing down. The hot liquid splashed on the wooden table first, and then soaked the floor before Smith Two could respond.

  Then it happened…all around me, quick movement from all the Smiths and about a sixty eyes all focused on me. I couldn’t see anything; just a blur of movements before Smith Two yanked me to my feet and pressed me against the wall, his back to my front, pinning me. His hand reached around swiftly and removed a gun he had tucked under his jacket resting against his dress pants. His hand with the gun fell to his side, brushing against his thigh, and I noted his pointer finger rested on the trigger. I heard the slapping sounds of fists slamming into flesh, screaming, chairs breaking, and a deep male voice yelling. I peeked over to my left side and saw a face, a face I thought, or maybe hoped, I would never see again. I was too stunned to breathe. It was Jared. He held up a yellow folder and slid it onto the table next to me, his brown eyes never leaving mine. I snatched it up and slipped it down the front of my jacket. Then, he slithered out of the coffee shop like the snake he was. My eyes followed his body exit and I noticed him signaling the guy who started the whole chaotic scene. Two others scattered around the small room. With the wave of his hand, the man who had just spilled the coffee, began apologizing to Smith Two and disappeared after Jared. The riot stopped soon after and I was escorted out. Smith Two, who was normally quiet, leaned over and whispered in my ear, “How was that for atmosphere?”

  What he said tickled something inside me and I giggled like a young school girl. He didn’t look back, but I saw his cocky grin in the reflection of the windows as we walked to the Slater building. Old, crotchety Smith shook his head at my goofy grin. “Where’s my muffin, anyway?” I fired out, trying and failing to hide my smug grin. He glared at me and it was so intense it silenced me instantly.

  We traveled up the thirty stories to my grandfather’s office. Brian and Gracey were already inside, so when the door was closed, they went into business mode. Brian wanted me to step up and take responsibility for the charity project Grandfather left me in charge of. He had a miniature desk set up on the far side of the room next to the couch, and a television that hung on the wall. It might as well have been a TV dinner tray it was so small; it needed neon arrows stating it was ‘Kat’s timeout corner’. The thought made me feel immediately defensive. I was guided to the small desk feeling like a child, and I was not a child. Fuck everyone. Brian crossed the room with a glare in his eyes—his tough love look. He stacked file upon file on my desk, then took out a laptop and a small notepad with scribbling on it. I would have to see if Gracey could decipher all of it. He was angry with me. Well, join the club.

  “What the hell is all this?” I asked, standing up to see over the mountain of files he placed in front of me. He shifted his feet to turn, annoyed, like I was a pain in his ass, and then he smirked. It was a look that invoked retaliation. There were a few people in my life who could reach me, who could challenge me, who could make me want to get even with them. Brian was on that list, along with Smith and another green-eyed man. These people were on the list because I respected them, and it was important to me they respected me back. I wanted them to see me as equally brave and tough, and most of all, strong. I didn’t want them to see a fragile girl, but a woman who could give them a run for their money, like they did for me.

  “Think of it as a file party,” he suggested mockingly, and my eyes narrowed to a continual squint. I almost chucked a file at my pretty-boy brother, but I remained cool. He waited for my response, anticipating it knowing my temper was identical to his.

  “Well,” I smiled a mysterious smile, letting my lip curl in amusem
ent, “I happen to like parties.” He returned my smile, and I flipped him the bird because he was expecting it, but meanwhile, I planned my revenge. He chuckled, and I disappeared behind the stack of files. Unbuttoning my jacket carefully, I pulled out the file I stuffed inside and placed it in the top drawer. Gracey, seated in the chair next to me, eyeballed the whole thing, but never said a word. We got to work after and developed a system. My grandfather’s thinking was burned into my brain, making the whole process actually very simple.

  Brian came over right before lunch and said a quick goodbye before taking off. As soon as the door closed, I bolted from my chair and rushed to his desk, looking for inspiration for my revenge. Smith watched me, and Gracey offered her assistance; she was my girl, and she liked a little ‘boys against girls’. I picked up his phone, pushed some buttons, and Brian’s secretary picked up.

  “I need Blake Sheldon,” I told her. Blake was the only one I trusted in the building. I got him the job here, and he was a loyal friend, the best kind of friend, one you don’t talk with every day, but when you do talk, it was like a day never passed and nothing changed. As soon as he answered, I asked him to pull all of the interns off their current jobs and send them to the thirtieth floor…fast. His cackle sent me warm, fuzzy feelings and I was grinning from ear to ear when I hung up. Shit, I missed him. I hung up and waved at Mr. Gray Eyes, Smith Two.

  “I need about two hundred rolls of wrapping paper.” The edges of his mouth slowly turned up in a mischievous way at my request, and he disappeared through the doors. “Gracey, get all the tape in the supply room.” I plopped down in my brother’s cushiony, black leather chair, resting my head, already feeling better. Smith grunted and I peeked at him; he made an exaggerated eye roll. He appeared to be enjoying himself in a grumpy kind of way. “Don’t you have a nap to take, old man?” A gradual grin lifted his lips and I had a strange urge to hug him.

  Minutes passed, and I gave instructions to the eleven interns standing in front of me to wrap everything, throwing in, “Jobs will be lost if you don’t work fast”. An hour later, I took my seat in my less comfy chair at my much smaller desk, like baby bear in the story. I let out a long, exhausted sigh. I was hungry, and the words I was reading in the files were merging together and everything seemed blurry.

  Gracey was a lifesaver; she had an old pair of reading glasses, the ones I used to wear when I traveled with my grandfather. I leaned back and studied his office more closely. It had been years since Grandfather worked here. When I came to live with him, he moved to Washington. This office was similar to the one there, the furniture masculine. It was bold and impressive, and the dark brown sofa and chairs were soft and cozy; books lined the inner walls, resting in the dark wood shelves. Windows filled the outer edges, overlooking the surrounding buildings and the buzz of busy streets below. Now, the whole office was wrapped in a variety of different colored cartoon paper; even the fancy fan on the ceiling had each blade wrapped. I laughed when his desk phone rang and we couldn’t even tell where it was coming from.

  Lunch was brought in; I had it moved to the conference room down the hall and told the finishing interns to help themselves. I didn’t eat, just chewed on a Powerbar Smith gave me. That was how all food tasted to me—chewy and lacking flavor, like silly putty.

  Brian returned from lunch and it made my day. He was thoroughly pissed off; sweet victory was mine. I popped up as he sat in his crackling chair, the sound humorously echoing off the walls. I skipped over, knowing this would infuriate him beyond belief. He ran his hands down his face roughly. “What’s wrong, brother?” I asked innocently. His blue eyes landed on mine and I saw it…what I’d been hoping to see…I saw respect, but it faded quickly, and then the old Brian was back. “You want to rap about it?” I mocked sweetly.

  He looked at me, and a snicker left his mouth. I held my face serious, but I was dying to laugh at his little chuckle. “You’ve been busy,” he said.

  I placed my index finger on my chin in a moment of pondering, gave him my ‘I have no idea what you are talking about’ look, and then stated, “You said it was a party, brother, and we both know you can’t have a party without gifts.” His office phone rang again, and when he glanced down, I choked on a laugh. He stood, tipping his head to me, but I wasn’t done. “Do you not like my presence here, Bri?” His lips pursed and I could tell he was holding back the laughter trying to come out. “Or are you just upset because you have a small package?” Smith’s sudden loud bellow caused an eruption of laughter all around. Even Brian couldn’t choke back his laughter anymore.

  “Respect, Kat, payback’s a bitch, you know.”

  I gave him my most devilish smile. “I think we can both see that.” I gestured to the room and he shook his head, moving hurriedly out of his office. My eyes followed him to his secretary’s desk, where he picked up the phone. I glanced at Smith and he winked at me. Today was a good day.

  ****

  As the day drew on, I became more and more focused on the file that occupied the top drawer in front of me; nothing else existed. I hesitated a few times, and then I inhaled through my nose, picked up my cell before I could dwell any longer, and dialed the unknown number from earlier.

  He answered on the second ring, and I felt ill for calling him as soon as he did. “Hello, Katarina.”

  “What am I looking at, Jared?” I slowly opened the file, expecting anthrax to fall out and kill me on the spot.

  “Proof…about your father, what he did to you and to others. He let people die on his table. Fuck, Katie, he should be called Doctor Death; only see him if you want to die. It’s my going away gift. I’m leaving for a while, and I gave you the information today as a sorry and a thank you.” I glanced over the list of twenty or so people, but there was no proof. “The proof is on the flash drive taped to the bottom of the folder.”

  I fished to the bottom and found the flash drive. “Jared, I’m not going to turn him in, if that’s what you are asking.”

  He laughed at me, and it was a reminder of why I shouldn’t be talking with him; he never took me seriously. “Kat, you need to…rock the boat. It’s time for you to step out of the shadows and cause your own set of waves. My hope was that I would be standing by your side when you did it. I saw the things he did to you and am fucking mad as hell. I’m mad at him and at myself, because I know you see me the same way you see him. I fucked up with you. I wish I would have done everything differently. You have no idea how you took my breath away the day I first saw you at your apartment. I had actually searched for you, paid people to find you, and there you were right in fucking front of me. I played it cool for months, bided my time waiting for you to be ready. It was the most fucking patient I have ever been in my life—”

  “Jared,” I cut him short, interrupting what I assumed was him patting himself on the back, “I am not going to reminisce about lost loves.”

  “Right, we were in love, Katarina; you just don’t remember it like I do.” As soon as he said that, I panicked and hung up. I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to remove his words from my mind. My heart clenched so tightly I was having a hard time breathing. What if he was right? What if I did remember the story wrong? What if everything that I thought happened to me never actually happened, and I imagined all of it? My mind spun with the thought of all my insecurities about the past, the pain that was inflicted on me, the fucking lies I told, and I suddenly couldn’t see the truth through all the lies. I grabbed my chest as I gasped for air. My world was crumbling, falling apart until only doubt remained.

  My cell phone rang and I just stared at it, scared Jared knew something about me I didn’t remember, scared he was right. It stopped and then started ringing again; by the third time, Smith was standing over my desk and plucking the phone from my hand, and I sat stone still as he answered it. His deep, agitated voice made me cringe, and when he got no response, he slipped my phone into the pocket of his black suit jacket.

  “I guess they hung up.” Smith flashed me
a smirk and I stuck my tongue out. He returned back to the couch, eating and talking with the other men, and I went back to the file in my hand. Bruce Covington, ‘the god of surgery’, killing people? What? I glanced over the names, trying and failing to recognize any of them until I landed on Jacy Ronald. My heart skipped a beat thinking about how the loss Jason had to deal with wasn’t because of my grandfather…it was my father. The deaths were all surgery-related, and all at about the same time at night. I knew my father liked to drink, and my guess was that he liked to drink and then play God. I thumbed through the other papers, my name written on most of them. It looked like a legal binding agreement, something I would have my attorney look over. I stuffed the file back in my drawer, took the flash drive, and shoved it in a secure pocket in my purse.

  Tommy showed up at seven; he asked about the lunch he sent over and insisted on taking me to dinner. I allowed it—illusion, I know. He retrieved my phone from Smith, showing me how to work it like I was an idiot. My brother had left hours before; Smith told me we had a long conversation about possibilities for the charity, but I couldn’t recall any of the conversation. My mind had been back on the information in the file Jared gave me. What was I missing?

  Dinner was the same. I thought about work and occasionally laughed when I thought Tommy said something funny, but I was mentally checked out. Tommy took me to his place after dinner and finished the night with an attempted kiss, but I dodged it. I tried to remind him we were just friends, but he was bound and determined to change my mind, making me wonder, Why? What did he want from a girl he knew was damaged? Tommy had his own money, and I witness women falling all over him. He didn’t need me…or does he?

  I slept in the spare bedroom again, and all I could think about was Grandfather. My next day ran the same way, but I was finding it easier to put off Tommy, smiling when he called me pretty thing and twirling when he wanted to check my clothes out. Why not? He was little Tommy, a harmless fly. This made him feel important and loved. What could be wrong with that?