by M. S. Parker
For me, there were two types. The nightmares where my father told me that he’d never loved me, that the good memories I had were lies. The others were the dreams where my father had never been hurt, and that we were a family. My parents, me…and the baby she’d been six weeks pregnant with when she died.
Then there were the ones that were both, ones like tonight.
I hadn’t known about the baby at the time and hadn’t learned about him or her until many years had passed. Shortly after Anton’s death, I’d been cleaning up some of his things when I found a shoebox of items I’d never seen before.
Some had been things I hadn’t recognize, but I’d assumed they’d been important to him. There’d also been pictures of him and my mom, programs from graduations and funerals. Pressed flowers. Ticket stubs from more than half a dozen Broadway shows. Rent, Wicked, Phantom of the Opera. We’d gone to those three together. I didn’t know who he’d taken to the other ones.
And then I’d seen an envelope with my name on it. Inside had been clippings from a dozen or so news outlets, all the stories about my family. More than one of them had mentioned that my mother had been pregnant when she was murdered. One had an interview with a friend of hers that had shed some light on things.
My mom had been scared to tell my father about the baby. Apparently, he’d been accusing her of cheating on him on and off for months.
I couldn’t keep thinking about this, or it’d drive me crazy. Whenever I had a dream like this, I had to get up and get moving, find something to take my mind off the nightmare that had been my life.
Fortunately, I’d neglected enough basic housework that I’d be able to stay busy for a few hours. After that, I’d see where things stood.
I was halfway through washing up some dishes when my phone rang. My heart jumped, and I barely took the time to dry my hands before I grabbed it.
“Hello?”
The moment the robotic recording started up again, I cursed. It took all the restraint I possessed to set my phone down instead of throwing it against a wall.
That was it. I was done ignoring the issue and hoping it would go away. I needed my father to stop calling me. Blocking the number wouldn’t do any good. Unlike most people, I still had a landline. Ever since that night, I’d been terrified of being in a position where I needed help and couldn’t get it. Having a landline made me feel safer because it gave me two different ways to call out. If one wasn’t working, the other could still possibly work.
I could try talking to someone at the prison, but I doubted they’d restrict outgoing phone calls without a real reason, maybe not without a court order. Since I’d never let it get to the point of actually talking to him, I couldn’t claim he was threatening me. I had no clue why he was calling. It could’ve been to threaten me. Or yell at me. Or a dozen other reasons I couldn’t think of right now.
If I called the prison, I’d simply be a daughter not wanting to speak with her incarcerated father. Unless, of course, I wanted to explain that the reason I didn’t want to talk to my father was because I was one of his victims.
I needed someone else to reach out for me. I hated asking for help, but I hated more the sick feeling in my stomach when I thought of how many times I was going to hear the phone ring and wonder if it was him. I’d spent too much of my life dealing with the consequences of what happened that day. I finally felt like I was moving past it, and I couldn’t let his persistence change that.
Clay.
Clay worked at the FBI. He could contact the prison or whoever he needed to talk to, use his position. Even though the FBI had no jurisdiction over things like this, he could make it a personal favor.
I needed to talk to him.
Today.
“I’ll make some calls this afternoon,” Clay promised.
“You don’t have to rush,” I said as I set down what was left of my chicken sandwich. “Whenever you have the time.”
“I’m not letting that…man take one more moment of your life from you,” he insisted. His tone was even, but there was no hiding the fury in his eyes. “In fact, no more talking about him. Tell me about how things are going at Burkart Investigations.”
The knot in my stomach loosened, and I smiled. Clay would take care of things for me like the good friend he was, and I’d be able to focus on the rest of my life.
Seventeen
“This is delicious,” I said as I pulled my feet up under me. “I think I might want you to cook for us all the time now.”
Jalen grinned at me as he served himself a second helping of the pasta he’d made. “Then it’s a good thing you like this because there’s really not much more I know how to make, and none of it well.”
I sighed. “I suppose it was too good to be true.”
He leaned over, fork poised to steal. I scowled at him and pulled my plate closer to my chest. “Try it, buddy, and find out what it feels like to get stabbed with a fork.”
He held up his hands, laughing. “It’s all yours.” He leaned back but reached over and put his hand on my knee. “Do you want to take some home with you to have tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I have leftovers from my lunch yesterday.”
“What’d you have?”
“A chicken sandwich,” I said as I ate the last of my cheese-stuffed ravioli. “But Clay gave me the rest of his turkey on rye, so I had that last night for dinner.”
“You had lunch with Clay yesterday?” Jalen’s voice sounded flat.
I hurried to explain. “My dad called me again yesterday morning, and I finally just had enough. Clay’s going to help me get the calls to stop.”
Jalen stood suddenly. He picked up his plate and mine, then headed into the kitchen. I frowned at the abrupt behavior. Was he seriously annoyed that I’d had lunch with Clay? Okay, I hadn’t called him to tell him yesterday because, by the time I’d gotten home, my mind had been focused on planning out this upcoming week’s schedule.
When he didn’t come back after a couple minutes, I went after him. He was cleaning up but didn’t look at me when I came in, making me think that he was doing something for the sake of movement, not because it actually needed to be done.
“Are you mad that I had lunch with Clay? You know he and I are friends. That means I’m going to see him from time to time.” No response. “I didn’t give you the silent treatment when you had lunch with Elise. Yes, it took me longer to tell you, but I’d started thinking about stuff on the way home and–”
“Have you changed your mind?” he interrupted quietly. “Do you want to be with Clay?”
“No!” I snapped. “He’s my friend, and I think it’s pretty shitty to be mad at me when you spent time with your wife, and I didn’t complain.”
He spun around, eyes flashing. “You think I’m upset because you had lunch with Clay? Dammit, Rona! I’m not that petty! I’m pissed because you went to him when you were upset, and you didn’t even think to tell me you were hurting.”
“Because Clay can do something about it.” What the hell was his issue? “I didn’t come to you to stop my dad’s calls because Clay has the contacts needed to make something happen.”
Jalen tossed the dish towel onto the counter. “No, I get that part. That’s logical. What’s bothering me is that you didn’t call me to tell me what happened and where you were going.”
“I don’t need to check in with you about everything.” I cross my arms. My cheeks were hot, my heart racing.
“Not check in,” he said, his voice tight. “Don’t you get it? I want to know about stuff like this because I care about you. I want to know what’s going on in your life. I want to be the one to talk through things with you.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I want you to lean on me and let me take care of you.”
Well, damn. I felt like a piece of shit now.
“Yes, I’m angry, but it’s because I’m hurt.” His hand slid up my arm, over my shoulder, and then his fingers curled around the back of my neck. Hi
s thumb strummed over the pulse point under my jaw. “I thought we were going to be more to each other.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “It was wrong of me to go to Clay instead of you.”
“You’re right that he has the connections you need to get this taken care of,” Jalen said. He brushed his lips across mine in a ghost of a kiss. “I just want to know what you’re going through because I want to be there for you. Even if I can’t be the one rescuing you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Rescuing me?” I echoed.
He grinned. “Come on, who doesn’t want to be rescued by a handsome white knight?”
I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “How about you be the damsel in distress, and I’ll be the beautiful white knight?”
“I’ll bet you look hot in body armor.”
I was still laughing when his mouth covered mine.
Eighteen
I’d been grinning like an idiot all morning, and it was Jalen’s fault. After we made up, we’d spent the rest of the day together. It had started snowing not long after lunch, but it’d been one of those beautiful snowy days. Cold, but not bitterly so. Not a lot of wind. We’d bundled up and gone for a walk, then back to his place where we’d made hot cocoa and snuggled on the couch while binge-watching a vampire comedy series.
Topping it all off, he’d texted me this morning.
Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving? Rylan and Jenna invited me over, and I’d love for you to come with me. Or we can do our own thing. I just want to spend the holiday with the person I’m most thankful for.
I loved the invitation, and I accepted, whether we went to the Archers’ place or spent the day as just the two of us. It was his reasoning that had my stomach doing flips.
He was most thankful for me.
Handsome, intelligent billionaire Jalen Larsen was most thankful for me.
It didn’t seem possible.
I heard the bell I’d installed above the front door ring, and I pulled my focus back to my job. I could think about Jalen later.
“Come on back,” I called. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a receptionist yet.”
I straightened in my seat and opened my mouth to greet my prospective client…and froze as Evan Lee stormed into the office.
“Fucking bitch!”
As he continued to curse and pace, I stared at him, completely caught off-guard. I didn’t know how to handle this. He hadn’t threatened me, and I wasn’t even entirely sure if he was directing his colorful commentary at me, which meant I didn’t know if I was in danger. If I called the cops on him, I could end up ruining the reputation Adare had worked so hard to cultivate. If I tried to throw him out myself, I might be able to take him, but that might also be an insanely bad idea.
Shit. I really needed to get a second person in here.
“Mr. Lee.” I finally managed to get my voice back, and the words came out stronger than I’d hoped. “Mr. Lee, can I help you?”
He spun around and stalked toward me until I could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves. “Where are they?”
“Where are who?”
“Don’t play stupid with me! You followed them. You have to know where they are.”
“Your wife?”
He put his hands on my desk and leaned toward me. “Yes. My fucking wife and my fucking girlfriend who’ve been fucking behind my back!”
“I sent you all the information I found,” I said, keeping my voice low and even. “The only place I ever saw them was at the hotel, and I doubt they went back there. Are you sure they’re both gone?”
“You sent me that fucking video, and it’s all I can think about. I close my eyes, and I see my fucking wife with her face in my girlfriend’s twat.”
Wasn’t that charming? Still, I managed to keep a bland expression as he kept ranting.
“I kept waiting for her to come home so I could talk to her about it. Find out what the fuck she was doing. But she never came home. I went to Moira’s to see if they were together, but no one was there.”
Shit. I was afraid he was actually right. After I caught Jessica and Moira in the hotel, it made sense that they might take off together. Maybe they had something more than a fling. Maybe they were both tired of fucking Evan. Either way, he’d been left out, and he was pissed.
“I think you should go home.” I got to my feet but kept the desk between us. “Get some sleep. Let your head clear. Give them both time to come back. They have lives here. They’re not going to just up and leave.”
Except I thought they might do exactly that. Neither woman had the sort of careers here that couldn’t be easily replaced. Moving somewhere else and starting a fresh life wouldn’t be difficult for them. Especially if one or both had been smart enough to take some of Evan’s money.
His eyes narrowed. “You think they’ll be back?”
I didn’t want to lie, but I also wasn’t going to give him the whole truth. “I think it’s a possibility.”
“How could they do it?” His shoulders slumped, all his anger seemingly bled away. “I treated them both good.”
I was tempted to point out that the fact that he’d been married to one and ‘dating’ the other made it hard to believe he’d been ‘good’ to them, but it wasn’t my responsibility to make him see any of that. Or any of my business to judge them.
“You’d have to ask them,” I said, finally daring to come out from behind the desk. “Which I’m sure you’ll be able to do soon. But they won’t come looking for you here.”
“I’ll go home and wait,” he announced as if it was a thought that had suddenly occurred to him.
“That’s a great idea,” I said as I walked him to the door. As soon as he left, I closed the door and locked it, flipping the sign over to closed. If Evan saw it, he might be insulted, but I didn’t care at the moment. I needed a few minutes after that chaos.
I’d barely had a single minute before my phone rang, and I took a step toward the office before I realized it was my cell and not the one that belonged to the company.
Jenna’s name appeared on the screen when I pulled it from my pocket. “Jenna?”
“Are you busy?”
“Is something wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried.
After the way my past had come back to bite me in the ass, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what would happen if my investigations into Jenna’s family brought her past into her present. I’d never forgive myself if I was responsible for bringing up all those awful things again.
“I just got off the phone with Agent Matthews,” she said. “Unofficially, of course. He gave me some information that needs…expanded.”
Expanded.
She didn’t need to spell it out for me. There were things that the FBI couldn’t do. Things that weren’t always illegal, though they sometimes were just that. Jenna and I didn’t need search warrants or supporting evidence. Sure, the thought of violating people’s rights wasn’t one that sat easily with me, but even when I’d been with the FBI, I’d struggled with the idea of a possible criminal’s rights being more important than that of a victim. It was like Jenna had said before, how she couldn’t understand how her mother’s right to continue having children to abuse superseded the rights of those children.
I understood the reasons behind innocent until proven guilty, behind the laws that protected the rights of citizens. That it was better for a guilty person to go free than an innocent person go to jail.
In instances like this, however, I had a difficult time with the justice system.
“I’ll be right there.”
Nineteen
I kept my pace even as I made my way down the sidewalk. The weather had cleared, which meant it was cold but sunny. The perfect excuse to wear sunglasses with my hat and scarf. If I went inside, I’d have to take at least the sunglasses off, but I didn’t look too out-of-place with them on out here. Some people probably thought I was doing a late walk of shame, needing the sunglasses because of
a hangover, but it didn’t bother me. If the subject matter hadn’t been so awful, I would’ve been enjoying myself.
Agent Matthews had given Jenna a list of names and no instructions as to what he wanted done. According to her, that’s how things went with them when he wanted her help but couldn’t legally ask her to work on behalf of the FBI. I didn’t ask if he was allowed to give her the names. I didn’t know how much Clay was involved, and the last thing I needed was something like this to come between us.
Some of the names she’d been given were local, some weren’t, so she took the ones on which she’d need to use her considerable hacker skill set and gave me the locals. With the names came very specific instructions regarding my role in the operation. I was to follow the people on my list, see where they went, who they talked to, what their routines were. Anything suspicious, I was supposed to write down and take it back to Jenna who would check it out in the digital world. I was also supposed to record anything else I felt was significant.
I was not to talk to them or interfere with them in any way. I’d seen the expression on Jenna’s face though when she’d given me that instruction. She would trust my judgment. Unlike the cops, she and I were private citizens. If we saw something going on that wasn’t okay – an adult harassing a child, someone being accosted, that sort of thing – we could get involved with the same risks as any other regular person on the street. She’d hired me independently, without any official record as to whether the information was for her, or for someone else. I assumed she’d covered herself within the arrangement she had with Agent Matthews. Considering who her husband was, I was confident that he’d hired the best attorney money could buy to go over any written documentation.
