by Eva Luxe
My ability to be honest.
I was keeping Zach in the dark, I was lying to my boss, and I was trying to cozy up to a very rich man who had ulterior motives for hiring me. I felt like I was in a spy movie, and I was secretly the person of interest.
I took a deep breath before I moved my brush against the canvas again.
There was something methodical to painting that settled me. There was something soothing about repeating the same actions over and over again, yet getting a different result every single time. Painting took planning and vision, but it also took strength and grace.
When I painted, nothing else in the world existed. Not anyone’s preconceived notions of me, not anyone’s outward interpretation of me, and not the stereotype people assumed I fell under. When I painted, I was drawn into another world I created as I went. My wrist had a mind of its own, and the only thing it needed was an image of what I wanted. Or a feeling I wanted to portray. Or a dream I wanted to bring to life.
Sometimes, I didn’t need anything at all. Sometimes, all that was needed was a goal, and the goal for that morning was to relieve stress. The rest was up to my wrist.
My phone vibrated on my bed, and I grinned when I saw it was a text message from Zach. He was checking up on me, making sure I was all right. I was shocked he wasn’t angry in the message, especially since he woke up alone. All he wanted to know was if I’d gotten checked into a hotel okay.
I shot him a message back and told him I had gotten checked in just fine, but that I didn’t know how long I was staying. Then, a phone call came through. A phone call I was shocked to be receiving.
“Mr. Kent,” I answered. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Miss Conwell. Everything is just fine. I hope our conversation yesterday didn’t ruffle any feathers.”
“I understand that this case is very personal to you, and I have more information for you, if you would like to hear it,” I said.
“I would love to.”
“First off, the surveillance. I saw Mr. Harte late last night when I got back into town. He seemed just fine, though a bit tired. He was taking a shower when I showed up.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
I thought back to the words he breathlessly uttered in the shower, and I had to bite back a shiver ricocheting up my spine.
“Not much, no. Just that he had to work in the morning. He offered me a place to stay since I hadn’t checked into a hotel yet, so I took advantage of that kindness.”
“Anything to get an answer,” he said. “I like it. Did you find anything?”
“I did. He left his computer unlocked, and I found a great deal of documents about you.”
The man fell silent. Only the sound of Mr. Kent’s breathing could be heard, and it was unnerving. Now I wished I’d waited to have this conversation with him in person.
It seemed like he had been caught off-guard, and I wanted to see his expression. There was so much you could tell about a person when they were caught off-guard.
“What types of documents?” he asked finally.
“Nothing bank account-wise if that’s what you’re asking, but he did have the company website pulled up. Some personal history on you, your whereabouts, and where you vacationed. It looked like he had your official itinerary as well. I’m not sure how he would’ve gotten that, but my guess is he either hacked into your system and obtained it, or he knows someone in your company and they’re feeding him this information. Mr. Kent, from what I observed, it doesn’t look like he’s stealing from you. Rather, it looks like he’s tracking you.”
The phone call fell silent again, and I allowed those words to sink in. That was why everything was so off, because it felt like Zach was tracking my client. My client thought he was stealing, but if someone was stealing something electronically, then why was there a need to keep tabs on the owner of the company?
If anything, someone stealing would want to erase any connection like that. Having folders filled with files on the person someone was stealing from was not only incriminatory, but it practically seals a criminal’s fate.
It would take someone with advanced cyber security knowledge to do what Mr. Kent was accusing Zach of doing, and Zach simply didn’t have those skills. Sure, he understood firewalls and how to protect things with a password, but Zach exhibited none of the signs of a thief.
He wasn’t meticulous, he wasn’t attempting to erase his tracks, he wasn’t taking large sums of money, and he wasn’t pompous. He had a personal ethics code that he lived by, he had lived in the town of Brookings for most of his life, and he didn’t harbor any of the residual personality traits of someone who lived a criminal lifestyle. He wasn’t a drinker or a gambler. He wasn’t a drug user, and he wasn’t guarded.
All of those simple personality traits, when combined, threw red flags to investigators like me, but Zach possessed none of them. Not just some of them, but none of them.
“So, you don’t believe Mr. Harte is stealing from me?” Mr. Kent asked.
“That’s not what I said. I said it appeared as if he isn’t. Some things don’t add up, but some things do. In order for me to get a good look at the overall picture, I’ll need—”
“Well, Miss Conwell, this conversation has been very eye opening. Thank you for fulfilling your duties. I will leave your boss a glowing review of your work.”
“What?” I asked.
“I will no longer be in need of your services,” he said. “Your job is complete.”
“I’m not sure why. We haven’t solved anything yet.”
“There is no need to follow this man around anymore. Your work has been superb, and I am thankful for it. Don’t worry. I will be paying the full amount that your boss and I agreed to, even though I will not need you for the entire month.”
“Mr. Kent, I’m not sure what’s—”
“Have a good day, Miss Conwell.”
My client— or rather, ex-client— hung up the phone call so quickly I couldn’t even get my question out. What the fuck had just happened? Why the hell had I just been fired? He didn’t tell me I had been fired, but that was exactly what it felt like. I hadn’t solved anything, I hadn’t answered any fucking questions, and I was no closer to figuring out why the fuck Mr. Kent needed me to watch this man in the first place.
I had been played, and my hand began shaking as my phone fell to the bed.
I turned toward the canvas I was painting on, and tears began to well in my eyes. What the hell was that man going to tell my boss? What was going to happen to Zach? I sat on the edge of the bed as tears slowly ran down my cheeks, and the exhaustion I felt in my bones slowly started to take over.
Where the fuck did I go from here?
I couldn’t go back to my job. That much was for certain. I had plenty saved up, despite my living expenses and my student loans, but I didn’t know what I would do from there.
I wanted nothing to do with researching people. I wanted nothing to do with tracking people down. I wanted nothing to do with criminals or connections or police departments or any shit like that.
But I also couldn’t stay here.
If I stayed here, I would keep digging. If I stayed here, I would keep researching. So long as those questions lingered in my mind, I would look at Zach and see them every single time.
I’d eventually break down and tell him everything, and I knew he would be upset. I would destroy this oddly perfect little thing we had struck up, and then I would have nothing.
Nothing and no one, except for Kami. Who was busy as fuck with her own business and her own life that was flourishing because she didn’t make shit decisions.
My phone began to vibrate, and I almost chucked it against the wall. I picked it up and saw that Zach was calling, and I debated on picking it up. My eyes ached with lack of sleep, and I had a pounding headache, but I knew the moment I tried to lay down, my eyes would spring open and magnetize to my forehead.
So, I picked up the call and readied myself t
o tell him everything. Just like I almost did last night.
“Hey there,” I said.
“You sound like you got about as much sleep as I did,” he said.
“Listen, I’m sorry about leaving. I just—”
“You came in very distraught. I’m just glad you got checked into a hotel without getting yourself in trouble.”
“Think I can’t take care of myself, Harte?” I asked, grinning.
“Everyone is capable of doing stupid things when they’re tired and emotional,” he said.
He didn’t even know how much truth he was speaking at that moment.
“Working today?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m not supposed to get off until around eight, but I was hoping I could stop by and see you.”
“Zach, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he said.
“Where would we be going?”
“It’s a surprise. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there at nine to come get you.”
“Nine o’clock? I’ll be passed out face first by that point.”
“Not if you sleep now,” he said.
“And you won’t be exhausted after work?”
“It’ll be worth it to see you.”
I closed my eyes and allowed his words to drift along my ears. His voice was so soothing, but it always dropped a few octaves whenever he paid me a compliment.
My heart was hammering in my chest, and I could hear my blood rushing through my ears. I laid down onto the bed with my canvas dripping with paint, and already I could feel the mesmerizing tune of sleep hum darkly into my ear.
“I can’t stay,” I said breathlessly.
“Then give me one last night,” Zach said. “That’s all I ask.”
I slipped underneath the covers, and the sound of his breathing lulled deeply across the recesses of my mind. Every single curious part of me was piqued with interest. Every single part of me that craved answers was screaming for my lips to say yes. I sighed into the phone as I pulled the covers up to my chin. Then I relinquished the wheel of my body over to the curious side of me.
Because deep down, I wanted to see him one last time.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be ready by nine.”
“Which hotel are you in?” he asked.
“The original one. The one you followed me to when my purse was left behind at the grocery store.”
“I’ll be downstairs waiting for you on my bike,” he said.
“I’ll see you then.”
Chapter 30- Zach
The wind whipped around our bodies as we cruised up the darkened ocean’s coast. I could feel Paige’s cheek pressed into my shoulder, her chest rising and falling with her steady breaths as she clung to me. The bike ride was silent. It had been since I picked her up. I could tell there was a great deal on her mind, and I wanted to find a way to alleviate it.
I felt close to her, like I’d found a kindred spirit in her somehow. I felt like she understood me. Understood the path I had walked and the heartaches I had gone through. When I looked into her eyes, it was as if I was looking into a crystal ball of my future.
A future that housed a woman and a bed, with the two of us tangled up in the sheets. A future that held a career and a child. A child I raised right despite how I myself was raised. I figured I was shown what not to do when it came to taking care of a kid, so as long as I did the opposite, I should be fine.
The water battered the ocean shore as Onyx vibrated underneath my legs. I felt powerful on the back of my bike, but having Paige here made me feel like a man. She clung to me with every tight turn we took, and at one point, I thought I felt her press her lips into the leather of my jacket.
I wondered what it was about Paige that drew me to her. I had known her for all of a week and had been on three dates with her. Yet I felt like I’d known her forever. I felt like she knew a part of me I hadn’t even divulged yet. I felt like I was looking into the eyes of an old friend who was just waiting for me to remember them.
It was all so perfect.
I didn’t want her to leave, but I knew eventually she would have to. She didn’t live here, but I still felt connected to her in a way I’d never experienced before. She was shrouded in mystery and wrapped up in more questions than answers, but I wanted to explore things with her and see where this went.
I pulled over onto the side of the road before I turned the bike around to look out over the ocean.
My helmet came off, and I hooked it underneath my arm. Paige picked her head up, working her helmet off her own head. She sat her chin on my shoulder before she kissed the nape of my neck, and I didn’t attempt to hold back the shiver that ricocheted down my spine.
“Chilly?” she asked.
“I hear that grin,” I said.
“I never thought I’d enjoy the ocean like this,” she said.
“I’ve always enjoyed it like this.”
“Just one of the many things that makes you different,” she said.
I turned my head toward her and found her smiling at me. The stars in the sky twinkled their reflections in her deep green eyes, and her hair reflected the vibrant light of the moon.
I put the kickstand down on my bike and hopped off, offering my hand to her in return. She looked at it for a second before she took it, allowing my extra bike helmet to settle onto her seat.
I walked her out into the sand before I pulled her into my body.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Dancing,” I said.
“But why?”
“Because.”
I slipped my hand around her waist and pulled her close to me. The top of her head came up to my chest, the perfect height for her lips to meet my heart.
She threaded her arms around me and placed her cheek against my skin as I draped my arms over her body. The rhythmic sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore gave us the concert we needed to sway our bodies underneath the low-hanging moon.
“I feel like I know you,” I said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I just feel like we’ve met before, even though I know we haven’t. It feels like I’ve known you for a lot longer than I have.”
Her silence rolled over me, but her grip on my body didn’t loosen.
“Why did you come back?” I asked.
“Zach…”
“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what you wanted to tell me last night.”
Her eyes fluttered up toward mine, and I could see them swimming with apprehension. It was the same look I’d gotten from her when I knocked on her window with her purse in my hand. It was the look I’d gotten from her when I found her stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire.
I wondered if I’d overstepped my boundaries.
“I came back because I didn’t know where else to go,” she said.
It wasn’t the answer I was expecting, but it did push the conversation in a direction centered around her, and I wanted to know all I could before she left.
“Why not?” I asked.
“When I get stressed, my mind becomes one-tracked. I usually have my art to help me relieve it, but in that particular situation, I didn’t have it.”
“So you drove nine hours back to my house?” I asked.
“I guess, yeah.”
I felt her body shaking, and I pulled her closer into me. I stroked my fingers through her hair, trying to get her to relax. I was putting her on the spot, and I knew it, but her words warmed my entire body.
This woman drove nine hours in a fit of stress and anxiety because the one thing that was on her mind at that moment was me. This beautiful woman, with her luscious body and her intriguing mind and her wild ways, wanted to relieve her stress with me. She felt comfortable around me, and the thought made me smile.
“It makes me happy to know you felt you could come to me like that,” I said.
“I really hope I didn’t wake
you up,” she said.
“Even if you had, it wouldn’t have mattered. You were going through something, and I was more than willing to help you through it. I know what it’s like to feel like that. To feel like things are spinning out of control. I need you to know that I’ve got you if you need me.”
She looked up at me with her big, bold eyes, and my heart skipped a beat as I hooked my gaze with hers.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“What?”
“You said you understood what it was like to feel things spinning out of control. How so?”
I drew in a deep breath before I pulled her head back against my chest. I didn’t want her looking up at me for this conversation. Just in case her opinion of me warped, I didn’t want to see it rush over her face. I wasn’t sure if I could handle something like that.
“My mother and I moved here to get away from my abusive father,” I said.
Paige didn’t say anything, but her arms held me tighter in their comfortable grasp.
“He was manipulative, at best. But at his worst, when he was drinking and cheating on my mother, he lashed out with his fists. He felt that the best way to assert himself was physically.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly.
“One day, my mother woke up with a migraine and saw that I had a bruise around my neck. She couldn’t remember much from the night before, but I did. My father had come home from one of his fun little company parties, trashed, and went straight for my mother. He wanted her, but she refused, and when he continued to try and get what he wanted from her, I stepped in.”
I took a deep breath, gathering strength to finish the story I wasn’t used to talking about.
“He grabbed me around my neck, and it gave my mother a chance to get away. I’m still not sure what prompted the migraine, but my guess is my father got what he wanted in the end from her that night.”
