“You should have left her alone.”
“She was the one who made a point to make sure I noticed her. She was always around the corner, or waiting for me outside your office. She made a concerted effort to make sure I paid attention to her.”
“So did Anabel.” Sam sounded strained.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I do care about Anabel. It was different before. Natasha knew what she was getting into with me.” I looked ahead. “Look, since you invited me on your ride here, can you drop me off in Northwest? I’m going to see Meghan.”
“So you’re saying you were upfront with Natasha? She knew that you never cared for her?” Sam leaned forward. “That’s a change for you.”
“I told her I was still hung up on Jessica. How could she not believe me?” Before Natasha Moore, I had dated an actress. “I did care about her. I just never thought we’d be anything more than what we were. She had a different opinion.”
“Well, we’ve got a car ride, Jared. Tell me what really happened.”
I looked at him sharply. “You told me you didn’t want to know before.”
“Well, now I do. So go ahead.”
In fact, Natasha and Anabel shared a lot of similarities. They were both young (although Natasha was twenty-one), very bright, and nothing like the sort of women I usually dated. Natasha had been working as a White House Intern when I met her. She was a pretty little thing, very athletic and petite, so I had noticed her, but hadn’t thought much of it. She hung around the oval office a fair amount, and one day I ran into her carrying a bunch of papers and accidentally knocked them from her hand.
“Wow, I’m sorry.” I bent over to pick them up.
Kneeling, she giggled. “Oh well. I was just standing here, attempting to look like I was doing something.” She leaned in close and whispered, “I’m hung over and my boss just handed me this stack of papers—and I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing with them!”
“Your honesty is refreshing. Jared Sorensen.”
“Natasha Moore.” She flashed very white teeth at me. “So how are you going to make this up to me, Jared?”
“Excuse me?” I was late for a meeting with the vice president, and this intern was harassing me?
“Well, you did make a mess of my paperwork,” she pointed out.
“So now I owe you something?”
“Why yes, Mr. Sorensen,” she purred, standing up and reaching to straighten my tie. “You do.”
I took the bait. “I could buy you a drink?”
“That’s more like it,” she said with a smile. She turned on her heel, and walked away. Then she called over her shoulder, “Meet me back here when you’re done for the day.”
As with most women I dated, drinks turned into sex, and Nat and I were inseparable. She was fun and vivacious, and extremely smart—but for me, it was just supposed to be fun. I had just gotten out of a semi-serious relationship; I wasn’t looking for anything but a good time. And I told her that.
Still, I don’t think she believed me. She would joke about me leaving her for the next supermodel that came to town, but as time went by, the jokes became accusations. While I never cheated on her, I never went out of my way to assuage any fears in her mind. It was twisted, what I did to her, and I regret it more than I can say. But the fact was, I didn’t want a needy woman, and that’s exactly what she was. It had gotten old, and while I didn’t see any reason to break up with her, my interest was definitely waning the last night we were together.
She and I were on a run in Rock Creek Park. I always enjoyed the park; the deer were prominent, and that early autumn evening felt crisp and cool as we jogged. One thing we had in common was exercise, and Natasha was fanatical about it.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Nat mentioned, her sleek ponytail bouncing as we made our way down the path.
“What’s up?” I was enjoying nature so much that I missed the note of foreboding in her voice.
“The lease on my apartment runs out soon.” She took care to keep her voice light.
“Oh? Can you not renew?” I squinted into the fading sunlight. “Or do you want some help looking for a new place?”
“Well, I thought I would move in with you,” she said bluntly.
I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her.
“Well, I mean, I’m over there all the time anyway, and it would help me financially . . .” she trailed off, and looked into my eyes. Her face spelled out her disappointment. “You don’t like the idea.”
“Nat, I don’t think we’re ready for this.”
“Why? I’m your girlfriend, after all.” She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.
“Yeah, you’re my girlfriend. There’s nothing beyond that.”
Natasha’s face blanched. “So what? I’ve been wasting my time with you?” Her voice raised an octave.
“Nat, baby,” I appealed, “it’s been a lot of fun. I wouldn’t call it a waste of time. But you and me . . . I don’t see us going anywhere beyond where we already are.”
She didn’t cry. I’ll give her that. Her face contorted with rage, and she hurled a great deal of nastiness at me, and finished with, “My brother was right about you!” and then took off in the opposite direction. I called out to her, but she kept running . . . and running . . . and then, she was gone. Frustrated, I turned and ran in the opposite direction back to my place, figuring I would call her in the morning and try and smooth things over.
However, I never saw Natasha after that. She was murdered in the park that night by a man named Carlos Ruiz Mercado.
I had been a suspect, but I was cleared when they caught Mercado. Still, it had damaged my reputation, and that was when Sam had started to distance himself from me. He had my back, but I knew our relationship wasn’t quite the same. Also, I had more than one ugly encounter with Matt—Nat’s brother—who wholeheartedly believes that his sister’s death is my fault.
This is why I did not want to leave him alone with the woman carrying my child.
Chapter 25—Anabel
“Sooo,” I drew it out, “why don’t you like Jared?”
“I think a better question is why do you?” Matt stared straight ahead. He had maybe said two words to me since we got into his truck, and I could hardly stand it. I was excited about his presence, but it also left me a bit confused. Matt was throwing me for a loop. If I was the star, and Jared was the hero, where did Matt fit into the mix? I decided he was the variable in the story.
So I considered. “I wouldn’t say that I like Jared.” I looked over at Matt. “He’s not really a likeable guy.”
“You got that right,” he muttered. “Look, Anabel, there are some ground rules, okay? I don’t want you to have the wrong perception of things.”
“Okay,” I grinned.
“Rule number one, stop asking me annoying questions.”
“Ouch,” I said, affronted. “What else?”
“Rule number two, you’re not going to get anywhere with that little act you’ve got going on. None of this damsel in distress crap. Just because those big blue eyes work on everyone else does not mean they will work on me.”
I pretended to be hurt. “I’m sure I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Moore.”
“Matt.” He stared at the road. “Rule three, call me Matt.”
“Matt,” I made myself the picture of sweetness, “why are you being so harsh with me? Don’t you know? Everyone else treats me like I’ll shatter into a million tiny pieces at any given moment.”
“You’re not breakable,” he answered. “You proved that in those hearings.”
“Ah yes, the hearings. So how long have you been following me around?”
“A while.” His eyes were on the road.
I shifted in my seat. “So when you told me you worked for my brother—”
He was nodding. “I’m an independent contractor. Your brother and I go way back, and he expressed an interest in hiri
ng me for your protection. So, we made an arrangement that suits the both of us.”
“Do you think I need to be protected?” I asked.
He shot me a sidelong glance. “Anabel, I’m one of the few people who actually knows what you went through after Jonathan was murdered. I’ve watched the security tapes. I do believe that you are at risk.”
I slumped in my seat. “Um, I need to pee.”
“You went right before we left.”
“The baby likes to make a game of kicking my bladder all day.”
He chuckled a bit. “We’re almost there. Can you hold it five minutes?”
“I suppose,” I replied. We lapsed into silence again. My natural instinct was to like him, which, I reflected, was how it went with me. I mean, after all, my relationship with Jared proved that I was a poor judge of character. But Matt seemed different . . . but also discomfiting. I especially hated that he had known that I was pregnant, and whatever it was that was going on with him and Jared also made me wary.
“So do I have to deal with Sorensen later?”
“I did invite him,” I admitted. “I thought maybe we could get together. For dinner. To which I guess you will be coming.” Since when was my speaking ability so impaired?
“Okay, if we go up to Tysons Corner there are a lot of restaurants.” He paused. “I can probably help you pick something.”
“Thanks.” I felt shy again, and stared out the window. “I’m so glad you know where you’re going.”
“So what’s with your name?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, it’s spelled funny.”
“I don’t want to talk to you about my name,” I stammered.
“Why?” he asked, smiling at me, showing a little warmth. “I’m just curious.”
“I’m named for a literary character,” I managed. Why was he discomposing me so?
“Which one?”
“Annabel Lee. It’s a poem.” I should not be embarrassed about this. But having Matt put me on the spot made me flustered and uncomfortable.
“Didn’t she meet a terrible end?” He made another sharp turn.
“I think my mom just liked the way it sounded,” I told him. “Anyway, she really liked the name, and then she saw a reference to it in another book—” here I winced, and hoped he didn’t notice—“so she decided it was perfect for me. She wanted to put a weird spin on it and name me Aniyabel, but my dad said absolutely not, and stripped it of extra vowels and letters, so it was simply, ‘Anabel.’ My father wasn’t one for . . . superfluousness.” Was that even a word?
“I see,” he said.
“I’m kind of impressed you know the poem,” I commented. “Do you like Poe?”
He grunted, and I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. So I tried again. “I mean, most people don’t know ‘Annabel Lee,’ much less the content of it.”
His eyes stayed on the road. The silence persisted again, but now Matt was slowing down, and so I eagerly awaited my new place.
Then, he turned into a driveway. “So this is it, I guess.”
I stared. “This is mine?”
“It matches the address you gave me.”
“Wow,” I breathed. It was gorgeous. The house was a red-brick, two story number, with a sweet little garden in front. In fact, it was exactly what a house should be, in my opinion. It looked so quaint and charming that I couldn’t believe it was mine. I stared at it, wide-eyed, until a cough shook me from my awed state.
“I believe,” Matt added, “this is where Jonathan and Cassidy lived prior to their divorce.”
I stared at him for a moment, and then burst into tears.
He sighed. “Anabel, I’m sorry.”
“N-no,” I sniffled. “I’m glad you told me.”
He parked the car and I just sat there, wiping tears away and sniffling. Matt was kind enough to look away until I got myself together. “Shall we?”
I nodded.
“I wonder where the caretakers are,” I pondered as we walked up the path.
Matt was looking around, not even noticing me. This again irritated me, and I felt a vexation at him start to grow. Everyone noticed me. Who did he think he was?
“Should we ring the doorbell? In case the caretakers are in?”
“I suppose so.” I pushed the button.
A moment later, a balding, middle-aged man answered. “Yes?”
“Hi!” I beamed. “I’m Anabel Martin, this is my house!” Matt rolled his eyes.
This turned out to be the wrong thing to say. His face literally fell. “Oh, Miss Martin,” came his halfhearted greeting.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry, but I don’t know your name.” What had I done to cause this poor man pain?
“Phil Albertson,” he introduced himself. “You should come in.”
“Oh right,” I agreed, giving him my best smile. “This is Matt, my new best friend.” Matt raised his eyebrows at me. I smiled back.
So we walked in and I was admiring the neat hallway that led into the sitting room when Phil said, “Miss Martin, because of the short notice from Mr. Holbrook, while we are packing right now, we haven’t found a new place yet.”
“Wait, what?” Pulled from my appreciation for my beautiful surroundings, I was confused.
“Well, my wife and daughter and I, we have been living here, and I imagine you’ll want us to leave.”
“Why would I want that?” I asked.
He stared at me, disbelieving.
I shrugged. “Well this is your home. And I was hoping you’d stay on, I don’t know how much time I’m going to be spending here.”
Phil’s face relaxed a bit. “Well thank you, Miss Martin, we’re much obliged.”
“My name is Anabel, you can call me that,” I offered.
“Anabel,” he beamed, “let me give you the grand tour.”
So he showed me around the kitchen, the living room, the family room with the cute fireplace, a quick peek at the library (the room caused a reappearance of the tears and Matt yanked me out of there), and then the upstairs, which was divided. There were four bedrooms and an office—Phil’s family was located on the right half, and he showed me the left, which had the master suite with the adjoining office, and a bedroom across the hall.
“Oh, how sweet!” I admired, looking at the smaller bedroom. “That will be perfect for Emma’s nursery.”
“Anabel is expecting,” Matt told Phil.
“Well congratulations! We did know, but it’s hard to keep up with all of those hearings,” Phil said, smiling at me. “And are you the father?”
Matt looked a little green. Quickly, I corrected, “No, Phil, that would be Jared, who is going to drop by later.”
“Will he be moving in, Anabel?” Phil asked me.
“I don’t know at this point,” I answered, shaking my head. “I doubt it though. I apologize for disrupting your lives.”
“No, no, no,” Phil reassured me. “Now, I expect you’ll want to unpack. My wife, Charlotte, and our daughter, Carrie are out at the market. Will you be joining us for dinner?”
“I wish, because that sounds lovely,” I said. “But Matt and I have a dinner engagement. How about tomorrow? That way we can get to know each other a little better.”
“I’ll tell Charlotte,” Phil beamed. “Now, you should get settled. Is there anything else in the truck?”
“Yes,” said Matt.
“Well, I’ll go get it!” And he took off.
I grinned at Matt. “He is precious!”
He was staring at me, unsure. “Are you for real?”
“What?”
“Anabel, this guy is your caretaker, not your family. You’re just going to let some strange man and his wife and kid live in a house with you? You don’t even know them!”
I stared at him blankly.
“It’s also a nightmare for me. I haven’t even done background checks on these people. You’re not allowed to be with them alone until I give the say so
, okay? You need to consult me on matters of your security,” he admonished.
“Oh,” I said. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. What was I supposed to do? Kick them out of their home? That hardly seems fair.”
“Well it’s not really their home, kid.”
“Well, I don’t feel like it’s mine.” I sat down on my new bed. It was gorgeous, a four-posted number. “You can go sleep in Emma’s nursery, there’s a bed in there. Is that okay?” I smiled at him. “I don’t think it would be a good idea if you slept in here.”
“You’re forgetting rule number two.” As he walked out to check out the room across the hall, I chastised myself. Stop attempting to chat up your bodyguard, Anabel.
He stuck his head back in. “I’m going to walk around the house and just scope it out, okay? Please stay here.”
“Will do,” I promised. I lay back on my incredibly soft bed. I could do with a rest, as it had been a long day and now this man was hurling brutal verbal assaults my way. It really bothered me that Matt, who had seemed so nice the first couple times I met him, was suddenly cold and distant, and didn’t really seem to want to have anything to do with me. I closed my eyes and hoped that traffic was bad, and Jared would be delayed. With all of this going on, I didn’t want to deal with him right now.
Then what seemed like moments later, Matt was shaking me awake. “Jared just called your phone. He will be here in ten minutes.”
“I didn’t hear it ring.”
“I took it out of the room so you could rest.”
“But I just fell asleep,” I whined, flustered by this abrupt awakening.
“You’ve been passed out for an hour, Anabel. And,” he added, grimacing, “you might want to mouthwash.”
“You really go out of your way to make me feel self-conscious, don’t you?” I blurted out.
“And you say whatever pops into your head without thinking about it,” he returned. “So here we are.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why don’t you like me?”
“Who says I don’t?”
“I can tell.”
He smiled wryly. “You’re funny, Anabel.” Then he left, and I rummaged through my bag for my mouthwash, perturbed.
Anabel Unraveled Page 19
