Revenge with Benefits

by Cat Schield

  “Looking back, what do you wish you’d done instead?”

  “Sociology or counseling.” For a while she’d considered going back to school, but Tristan hadn’t seen the purpose, pointing out that she didn’t need a degree to be Mrs. Tristan Crosby. “I’d like to be able to help people.”

  “I’ll bet you’d be good at it.”

  She wanted to point out that he didn’t know her well enough to make that assessment, but the compelling light in his gray eyes left her wondering if maybe he saw deeper inside her than she realized. The thought unnerved her. And yet she was also flattered that he was making the effort to look beneath her surface.

  No doubt about it. Ryan Dailey was a complicated guy who aroused complex emotions in her. That made him more dangerous than she might be able to handle.

  * * *

  “Can we talk about something else?” she asked. “I’m really not all that interesting.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he teased, despite the somber feeling stealing over him.

  His initial assessment that Zoe’s edgy exterior protected a delicate core was proving true. Her insistence that there wasn’t much he might find interesting about her intrigued him. Instead of convincing him she was ordinary, he grew even more curious about what she was hiding. And why.

  “One last question,” he insisted, ignoring her weary exhalation. “What do you do when you’re not volunteering for my sister’s campaign?”

  “I work at a boutique store in downtown Charleston. Second Chance Treasures.”

  Her quick answer surprised him. As did the way her spine straightened and her chin came up. Her whole manner brightened. She stopped avoiding his gaze and made eye contact. The beauty of her light brown eyes hit him full-force. For long seconds he lost his train of thought but finally shook himself free of her spell.

  “What do you sell there?”

  “We specialize in arts and crafts items made by women who are survivors of domestic abuse. Every sale helps them on their road to financial independence.” There was pride in Zoe’s voice.

  From the beginning he’d thought her beautiful, but now, as she spoke about the store, her bright smile and fierce satisfaction captivated him. “Sounds less like a job and more like a calling for you.”

  As if realizing she might have given too much away, she dialed back her emotions. With a careless shrug, she murmured, “It feels good to help out.”

  He agreed but sensed she wouldn’t accept any overture he might make. She obviously wasn’t ready to trust him, but would she accept aid from a different quarter?

  “It sounds like something my sister would be interested in helping with,” he said. “Have you mentioned the store to her?”

  Zoe shook her head. “She’s busy with the campaign. I wouldn’t want to bother her.”

  “You wouldn’t be bothering her,” he insisted, recognizing that the issue of domestic violence was something his sister could take up in her campaign. “In fact, having an event at your store might be good PR for both of you. It might be worth asking the owner about.”

  “I suppose I could do that.”

  Her vague answer left Ryan wondering if she actually would. Regardless, he decided to suggest Susannah check out the store. Even if an event couldn’t be organized, Ryan knew his twin would do what she could to help out.

  “You seem like the perfect person to be on Susannah’s team,” Ryan said, turning his attention to the onerous task of deciding if Zoe was in any way connected to Abernathy’s campaign. “You have the sort of passion to effect social change that drew my sister to public office. Have you volunteered for any other campaigns?”

  “No.”

  Zoe’s short answer left Ryan regretting that he’d been too direct in his inquiry. Why not just come out and ask her if she was spying for Abernathy?

  “Why now then?”

  She became absorbed in pushing her uneaten lima beans into a neat line on her plate.

  “I guess I realized that nothing is going to change unless people get involved.”

  “People?” he asked, nudging her to clarify.

  A dry smile quickly passed across her lovely lips. “Unless I get involved.”

  “I think a lot of people are feeling that way,” Ryan agreed. “Susannah said their volunteer list has doubled since Abernathy announced he was running.”

  “That isn’t surprising. He’s a terrible politician.”

  “You sound familiar with him.”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. It’s just what I’ve heard.”

  While her denial didn’t ring true, it was pretty obvious that her disgust was genuine. Maybe a little too obvious? Demonstrating an unfavorable opinion about Lyle Abernathy didn’t exactly clear her of being a spy. Clearly she couldn’t come right out and sing the guy’s praises while volunteering for Susannah’s campaign.

  Ryan wished his gut wasn’t warning him that her explanation for joining his sister’s campaign wasn’t the whole story. Clearing Zoe of suspicion would’ve opened the path to pursing her romantically. That Gil and his sister could be right to suspect her churned in Ryan’s stomach like acid. He’d hoped she’d ease his mind over dinner. Instead she’d awakened more questions.

  Obviously he would have to continue investigating her.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said as they exited the restaurant and headed for the parking lot.

  “You’re welcome,” Ryan said, matching her slow pace. “Maybe next time you’ll let me pick the place.”

  Zoe reached her car and turned to face Ryan. Every line of her body, her tense muscles and slight frown, screamed reluctance.

  “Look,” she began, obviously gearing up to blow him off. “You are a really nice guy, but this isn’t going to work.”

  Ryan set his hands on his hips and wondered if she was as immune to him as she appeared. “Because?”

  “We’re way too different.” She waved her hand between them as if to demonstrate her point.

  “Being different is what makes things interesting,” he countered, taking a step in her direction.

  Her eyes widened as he invaded her space. “Being different is what leads to problems. You like champagne. I like beer.”

  “You like beer?” he echoed in surprise, unsure why he couldn’t picture her with a bottle in her hand.

  “Well, no,” she admitted. “I usually drink vodka, but you get what I’m saying. You’re South of Broad and I’m...” She trailed off as if her current address eluded her.

  “Where do you live?”

  “I’m crashing with a friend at the moment,” she said, her whole manner evasive. “See, that’s what I mean. You’re rich and I can’t afford to rent an apartment. It would never work.”

  “I disagree and frankly I’m a little insulted that you’re judging me on my financial situation.”

  “You’re insulted?” She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her chin out.

  “Yes. And I think you’re lying about why you don’t want to see me again.”

  “I’m not.”

  He ignored her denial and plowed on. “I think you’re proud of your self-reliance to the point where you refuse to accept anyone’s help no matter how dire your situation.” From the way her eyes widened, Ryan saw that his point had struck home. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid,” she countered. “But you’re right about my pride. It’s important to me that I do it on my own.”

  Her fierceness fired his desire and forced him to shove his hands into his pockets to stop from snatching her into his arms and setting his lips to hers. Skittish and assertive in turns, she was a complex knot for him to unravel. The question remained whether or not he should.

  “One more date,” he declared. “We’ll have dinner this weekend. Any place you want.”


  She shook her head. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  “I like you. A lot. I think you like me, too.” He paused, offering her the opportunity to disagree. When she didn’t jump in, he had his answer. “Good. Saturday night at six. I’ll be in touch to finalize the details.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” she declared, but her voice lacked conviction. “Good night, Ryan Dailey.”

  “Sweet dreams, Zoe Alston.”

  As she slid behind the wheel of her gray Subaru, Ryan headed to his own vehicle. He remained bothered that she’d listed a PO Box number as her home address and claimed to be staying with a friend. Why so vague about where she lived? What secrets was she trying to keep hidden?

  Ryan was determined to find out and as she exited the parking lot, he let her get a little ahead of him before slipping into traffic behind her. He doubted his sister would approve of him tailing Zoe, but he wouldn’t be able to rest unless he was satisfied that Zoe was telling the truth about her living situation.

  From where they’d had dinner, it was a straight shot to downtown Charleston. As he tailed Zoe, Ryan wondered if he’d have done something like this before his troubles with Kelly Briggs. He’d never considered himself naïve when it came to women, but after the way he’d misread Kelly, Ryan’s first impulse was to assume the worst. He wasn’t proud of his newly cynical perspective or the way it warred with his innate desire to give people the benefit of the doubt. Being suspicious tainted him somehow.

  When Highway 52 became King Street and Zoe’s car continued straight on, Ryan suspected she wasn’t heading home but rather to one of the downtown bars. This was where things could get dicey. He’d have to follow her in to see what she was up to, all the while staying out of sight.

  But even as Ryan pondered how to accomplish this, Zoe turned onto a side street and parked behind a retail building. Ryan kept going, but slowed to read the name painted on the windows of the darkened store. Second Chance Treasures. The place where Zoe said she worked. What could she possibly be doing there so late?

  Ryan circled the block and found a place down the street where he could observe the parking lot and keep track of who showed up. After an hour, all remained quiet and Ryan’s curiosity morphed into frustration. The entire back of the building was windowless, offering no clue as to what could be going on inside. Additionally, Zoe’s car was the only one in the parking lot. Unless someone had arrived on foot before he’d showed up, Ryan had to assume she was alone.

  Frustrated by the lack of action, he put his car back in gear and cruised past the front again. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he headed for his nineteenth-century Queen Anne house north of downtown.

  He’d bought the home a couple of years ago after a major renovation had resulted in the replacement of the antiquated plumbing and electrical. Sitting on half an acre, the seven-thousand-square-foot home was way more space than he needed, but he loved the yard and the pair of one-bedroom apartments at the back of the property the previous owners had rented out. Ryan didn’t need the hassle of tenants or the extra income, but he appreciated having additional space, separate from the main house, where he could put up out-of-town guests.

  After parking in the three-car garage, Ryan made his way across the backyard and into his all-white, ultra-modern kitchen. Most people looking for a historical house would’ve been annoyed that the home’s original character hadn’t been maintained inside. Ryan appreciated the marble countertops, professional appliances and updated fixtures. The single nod to the home’s age was the fireplace along one wall, painted white to blend in. For the rest of the home’s styling, Ryan had chosen white for the walls to play up the original pine flooring and selected furniture pieces with clean lines and neutral tones and paired them with large abstract art pieces.

  When visiting for the first time, people were struck by the contrast between the historic exterior and modern minimalist interior. Not everyone approved, but Ryan hadn’t gotten to where he was by being swayed by other people’s opinions.

  He poured himself a drink and collapsed onto the couch in his living room with the TV remote in one hand and a crystal tumbler of bourbon in the other. He surfed the local news and stopped when he saw photos of his sister and Lyle Abernathy.

  How long would it take for Abernathy to start stirring up trouble? His constituents had grown sick of his antics and he’d been facing a primary challenge in his home district that he was almost sure to lose. That’s why he’d switched to Susannah’s district. That he’d brought his dirty politics with him made Ryan grind his teeth.

  He shut off the TV just as his cell rang.

  “Nothing much came up during my initial search on Zoe Alston,” Paul began, wasting little time on preliminaries.

  “What does that mean?” Ryan asked, his suspicion intensifying at an equal pace with his disappointment. He’d counted on Zoe being as ordinary as she claimed.

  “That she doesn’t have any current social media presence or obvious electronic trail.”

  “So, she doesn’t exist? Does that mean she gave us a false name?”

  “Not false,” Paul corrected. “She’s recently divorced and back to using her maiden name.”

  “How recent?”

  “A few days. The ink has barely had time to dry.”

  A powerful wave of relief blindsided Ryan, making him slightly light-headed. Her skittish behavior made a lot more sense. As did the reason why she’d been so reluctant to go out with him. She wasn’t a spy, but someone who’d suffered a heartbreak. No doubt she wasn’t ready to bare her soul to a stranger.

  “Whom was she married to?” Ryan asked.

  “Tristan Crosby.”

  “Sounds familiar.” The name rang a faint bell, but Ryan couldn’t recall where he’d heard it before.

  “He runs Crosby Automotive. The family also owns Crosby Motorsports. The racing team.”

  A lightbulb went off in Ryan’s mind. “Harrison Crosby drives for them.”

  “That’s his younger brother.”

  So, Zoe’s past was a lot more interesting than she’d admitted. And all her excuses about them being from vastly different worlds were a load of crap. Why not just explain that she wasn’t ready to date and leave it at that? Why the fabrication?

  The questions renewed Ryan’s distrust.

  “Can you do a background check on the owner of a store? Second Chance Treasures.” Ryan gave Paul the address. “And maybe the person who owns the building, as well.”

  “Can I assume this is tied into your interest in Zoe Alston?”

  “Yes. I can’t explain why, but there’s something up with her and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” Paul paused a beat before adding, “You know not every woman has bad intentions.”

  Not every woman. But he wasn’t about to drop his guards again unless he was sure he wouldn’t get burned. If being overly suspicious kept his business, family and friends safe, then that’s just the way it had to be.

  “I...feel something for this one,” he said, the confession coming from out of nowhere. “I just want to make sure she checks out.”

  “I get it.” Paul’s sober response mirrored Ryan’s mood. “Give me a couple days to see what I can find out.”

  Stung by impatience, Ryan got to his feet. To hell with waiting a couple days for answers. No reason he couldn’t do a little investigating of his own. He grabbed his keys and headed for his car. Too many questions swirled through his brain about Zoe Alston. There was no way he was getting any rest until he’d confronted her with what she’d not told him tonight.

  Ryan noticed the uptick in his mood as he slid behind the wheel and recognized its origins. He was eager to see her again. Cursing, Ryan wondered if his sister had been right to warn him off. Obviously Zoe Alston was trouble. Perhap
s not for Susannah’s campaign, but definitely for his peace of mind.

  Four

  In the wake of her dinner with Ryan, Zoe had a hard time concentrating on the spreadsheet she’d created to chart her cash flow. Today’s disastrous theft by Magnolia Fenton meant she had to figure out which bills she paid and which ones got pushed back a few weeks to a month. At the top of her priority list were the commission payments to the women who provided her inventory. They were counting on those dollars to feed and house their children.

  Zoe rubbed her dry eyes and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She hated the wave of hopelessness that washed over her. Where could she possibly get more money? The obvious answer came from Ryan’s suggestion that she talk to his sister. He was right that an event at the store would both benefit Susannah and bring awareness to Second Chance Treasures. She wished she knew how to overcome her reluctance to ask for help. Sure, she’d been burned in the past when she’d reached out, but Susannah wasn’t at all like the women in her former social circle. She couldn’t see Ryan’s sister being nice to her face while stabbing her in the back.

  When she picked up the cup of peppermint tea beside her laptop, Zoe noticed the black smudge of eye makeup on her hand and headed into the bathroom to wash her face. As she patted her skin dry, she scanned her features in the mirror, deciding without the dark makeup she looked younger than her twenty-nine years. At least until she met her reflected gaze and saw the weight of her experiences lingering in her eyes.

  A knock sounded on the door that led from the stockroom to the parking lot, making Zoe’s heart jump. A glance at her watch showed it was nearly ten at night. Who could possibly be stopping by at this late hour?

  Many of the women she worked with knew Zoe’s story and that she was living in the store’s back room to save money. Opening up about her troubles hadn’t been easy for Zoe. She’d spent nearly the whole of her marriage acting as if her life was perfect. But being authentic with these women was important for them and for her. As a result, Zoe was learning courage where she’d once feared. What she’d perceived as weakness and failure didn’t have to define her.