“I thought Jose was helping with those?”
“He was, but even before he resigned I knew it was coming. He’s been talking for a while about moving back with Susan’s family, so I knew it was only a matter of time. I started asking around in some of the chat rooms for recommendations, everyone who responded said Emily was the go-to person.”
Fuck, can’t he stop saying her name? I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists tightly.
“Of course, they didn’t use her real name, but her alias is very well known in the community.” He surprises me by saying.
“Meaning what? She’s done this sort of thing before?”
“Not exactly,” he answers vaguely. “She’s a contractor, so she helps on cases here and there with police departments, the FBI, and occasionally private sectors. But, like us, she moonlights…offering her skills to those who need it.”
“You make it sounds like she works with terrorists.” I laugh because at times our conversations have been just as vague. “If she’s working for the government, what makes you think she’s going to want to come over to the other side?”
“She needs to. She needs this job just as much as we need her,” he stresses.
“I don’t get it.” Getting up, I walk over to the large window that only overlooks the parking lot, but it helps. I slowly pace the length of my office, stopping every so often at the window. The action does what I hoped, it keeps me focused on the conversation and not on her.
“Look, she hasn’t had it easy. She doesn’t do well with change, but at the same time, she needs it. She’s become trapped in this little life she has, rarely leaving her house except when absolutely necessary. She needs a change, and I think this would be good for.”
“She sounds like someone I know,” I mumble knowing he won’t appreciate the irony.
“We have a call scheduled for this evening. I’m confident she’ll tell me she already booked a flight and hotel room for the interview.”
“How long have you known her?” I just assumed until now that he barely knew her, but I’m sensing he knows her better than I thought.
“About six months now.” His voice gives nothing away, even though I know there’s something there.
“I thought you said she just started helping you recently?”
“With the other cases, she did. I first contacted her to help me with something else, and we stayed in contact after that.”
Six months ago. Interesting that the timing would coincide with when his life went to hell.
“Well, just let me know when she finally schedules the interview. I hope you’re right about her.”
“I am.” I can only hope his confidence in her is rightly placed.
“I need to get going. I have an interview in an hour.”
“I’ll be on the call this afternoon.”
“Later.”
I restart pacing the floor of my large office, unable to sit still after hearing her name again. It’s not like I haven’t thought about her. Fuck, I think about Em all the God damn time! I wonder what she’s doing with her life: is she married, does she have kids, did she go to college and become a lawyer like she wanted? Does she still suffer from nightmares?
It’s funny, we spent what I later learned was just over seven months together, locked in that filthy basement, but I didn’t even know her last name until she introduced me to her dad at the hospital. I knew everything about her except for that. Legally, they may have sealed our files and the case was kept out of the press, but it would only take a little digging around to find her.
I asked my lawyer once, the lawyer that Em’s dad hired for me, but he said it was in both of our best interest to not stay in contact. The therapist I was forced to see said the same thing. They both thought that talking to each other would keep what happened on the surface and not allow us to move on.
Move on.
As if there’s some magic button that can be pressed that makes you move on after something horrible like that happens to you. There is no moving on; there’s no forgetting what happened in the eighteen months I was in that house. But, if there was a chance that seeing me would hurt Em, I wouldn’t do it. No matter how much I wanted to talk to her, to see her, I can’t hurt her more than I already have.
It hasn’t stopped me from thinking about her, though. From remembering the look in her eyes when she saw what I had done to him. Even now, ten years later, I can’t bring myself to say his name. I still picture myself killing him that day. I imagine this time, that Em doesn’t stop me. That I bring the barbell down on his face, on his head, on his throat—like I was envisioning that day. If she hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed him.
And I wouldn’t have felt any guilt in doing so.
That’s the difference between us. She thinks it would have bothered me if I killed him. She told me that night, when we were huddled together trying to stay warm after the sun went down, that she stopped me because she didn’t think I would be able to live with myself if I knew I killed the bastard. That’s where she had been wrong, I could have very easily lived with myself knowing that the monster was dead and couldn’t hurt another kid. But I never told her that.
Needing to do something, I head downstairs to the gym. Yeah, kind of ironic that I have a gym in my house after all the time he had me locked in one. When I left the Army, I craved the routine that came with serving. We have one installed at the warehouse, but when I bought this place, I wanted one—no, I needed one so I could do something after the nightmares woke me up.
Unlike that gym, this one is bright and airy, with large windows looking out to the vast woods that surround my house. I live more than an hour from the office, but it’s the price I’m willing to pay to live out here by myself. Here, I can run on the treadmill while looking out the windows instead of the paint-peeling walls. Here, there is no door that can be shut while I work out. I had that removed the day the gym was installed. Here, I can follow any workout routine I want. Not one that is pinned to the wall.
Two hours later, I’m at the office buried in work. For the most part, I no longer provide protection except in rare situations. I focus on managing our current clients and matching cases when they come in. I didn’t think I’d want to be office based. Hell, when we first started the company we both assumed we would hire someone to handle all of that. For the first couple of years, we did just that, but as the company grew, it became clear that neither of us could trust anyone to run the business the way we wanted.
“Is everyone there?” Alec asks from the conference line a few hours later.
“Jose and I are here,” I confirm.
“I sent you both the file just now, but the gist of the case is the husband is an abusive drunk ass who comes from money and has found ways to skirt the law. He has an abusive streak that has resulted in multiple trips to the ER for both mom and children, but because of his connections, everything is always swept under the rug. Helen wised up and left the bastard a year ago, their divorce was finalized just two months ago.”
“He contested it?” I ask.
“Yes, at times he claimed he was in love with her, but other times he argued she was only divorcing him to get her hands on his money. Turns out Jack wasn’t smart enough to have Mary sign a pre-nup before they wed.”
“Ouch.” Jose scans through the file on his laptop. “The guy’s net worth was over a million dollars a year ago.”
“So, what’s the issue that we’re getting involved in? I take it this isn’t a standard protection case.” If it were there would be others on the call.
“Jack was awarded visitation of their two children, despite concerns that he may have physically abused them in the past.”
“The kids wouldn’t talk?”
“No, they were, and still are, petrified of him. It didn’t matter to Helen because he didn’t show up for his visitation anyway. Until almost two weeks ago.”
“What happened?” Jose asks.
“He showed up out o
f the blue, demanding to take the kids for the weekend. Helen contacted her lawyer, who said that legally she had to allow him to take the kids because it was his scheduled weekend. And that if she didn’t she could be held in contempt for—”
“Custodial interference,” I mumble.
“Right, so she had no choice but to allow the kids to go with him. She said they were kicking and screaming the entire time, trying to climb out of the car even once they were seat belted in. But he was very insistent that they go with him.”
“What did he do?” I growl.
“We don’t know. When Helen arrived at his condo the following day, no one was there. In fact, the entire place had been cleaned out.”
“Shit.” Jose starts typing away on his laptop.
“I assume she’s talked to the cops already?” Alec wouldn’t have let the case get to us if she hadn’t.
“Yeah, they blew it off as custodial interference. They issued an APB for him, but they’re not doing much more. I spoke with the detective on the case, off the record of course, who hinted at their hands being tied because of some political affiliation the family has or some shit like that.”
“When you said he was from money, you weren’t kidding,” Jose says. “Old money, handed down from generation to generation, but Jack’s parents nearly doubled their wealth by making some key investments. Now they sit on several boards and make sizeable donations to causes when needed, including political campaigns.”
“And the local police department, I’m sure.”
“You got it. Twenty-five thousand dollars was just donated only a couple of weeks ago.”
“The FBI won’t get involved?” I ask.
“No.” Alec snaps, his voice full of frustration. “They’re not treating this as a kidnapping since the dad has shared custody of the children.”
“He hasn’t attempted to contact the mother?”
“No, and it’s been almost two weeks since anyone has heard from him.”
“His family?”
“According to his brother, the only living relative except for some distant cousins, and he mentioned going camping for the week.”
“And we don’t think that was the plan?”
“No, according to Helen, hell would have to freeze over before her ex ever went camping. Apparently, his idea of roughing it was not getting a suite at a five star hotel when he traveled for business.”
“Anything on his financials?”
“Nothing,” Jose answers. “And by that, I mean nothing out of the ordinary. Small purchases here and there, but it looks to be revolving payments. I’ll dig in and see what I can find in the next two days, but, unfortunately…”
“It’s fine.” I know he would stay longer if he could, but Alec had been right this morning, he’s been talking about moving for a long time and his wife has been more than patient.
“Luke is meeting with your replacement this evening,” Alec surprises me by saying.
“I am?”
“Perfect. I don’t know what his time frame is, but if possible I’d love to sit with him and go over things before I leave on Friday.”
“Her schedule is tentative right now, but I expect her to have a time set aside for you by tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect, I’m going to get to work on this, unless either of you needs me for the rest of the meeting?”
“No, you’re good.” I nod and wait until he closes the sound proof door behind him. “I’m meeting with his replacement this evening? Since when did you start hiring staff?”
“I’m sorry, it was just confirmed. Emily sent me an email while we were talking, letting me know she had just checked into her hotel.” He at least has the decency to sound jaded by the situation.
“I thought she was calling you this evening with the day and time for an interview?”
“So did I.” He chuckles. “She told me she decided this morning that I was right, that she did need to move on—”
“From what? I know you keep saying she doesn’t like drama, but I swear if you tell me she’s running from an ex or running from something else—”
I start packing up my laptop and notepad, already not liking where this conversation is going. We may be desperate for a new IT person, but we’re not that desperate.
“No, nothing like that. Her father passed away, and he was her only family left. She’s had a hard time dealing with the loss, especially since she moved into his home to take care of him at the end.”
“Shit.”
I hear him typing away on his keyboard before he continues.
“I think there’s something else going on, but she won’t tell me. Not that I blame her because I barely know her.”
“You actually seem to know quite a bit about her.”
“Only professionally,” he corrects. “It took me three months to get her first name. She keeps her personal life buttoned up tight. It was only after I started talking to her about what it is we do—the other side of our business—that she opened up a little.”
“Where did you say she’s from?”
“San Diego.” WHAT?!
“Shit. You think she’s going to not only move out of her dad’s house, but across the country for this job?”
“She’s here, isn’t she?”
“For now, Alec. Man, we can’t afford to bring someone on and then have them suddenly get home sick a week later. If it weren’t for these cases, it wouldn’t be such an issue but you know as well as I do, these are time sensitive.”
I walk over to the wall of windows that overlook the rear side of our building; like my office, there isn’t much of a view, but it’s always better than staring at the walls. I try to put myself in Alec’s shoes, but I can’t. I have no idea what he’s thinking bringing someone on like who is so undecided about even a job interview. He’s not normally like this, but then again, he hasn’t been himself since the accident.
“She’s not going to run home.”
“You’re sure? You just said you don’t know her very well.”
“I don’t, but I know once she makes up her mind about something, she follows through with it.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say as I head down the long hallway to my office.
“I am.”
“What time is her interview?”
“Six-thirty.” Well, at least that gives me a couple of hours to get through the rest of my to-do list on my desk.
“Fine.”
“Call me after and let me know what you’ve decided.”
“Oh, you mean I still have a choice in the matter?” I try to lighten the mood.
“For now.” He jokes.
Chapter 10
Luke
“Mr. Simpson?” Margaret, our office manager, interrupts me.
“Yes?”
“I have a Ms. Telford here for you, sir.”
“Thank you, please bring her to the conference room in ten minutes and then you can go home for the night. Thanks for staying late.”
“Not a problem, sir.”
Margaret has been a God-send, especially once everything went to hell for Alec. I swear if it wasn’t for her, this place may not be standing right now. She was the first administrative staff person we hired, so she’s been with us almost from day one. She’s always willing to work a little later when needed, like tonight, thanks to Alec scheduling this interview after when she normally leaves. She reminds me of a cross between someone’s grandmother and their favorite aunt. She can joke with the best of us, which isn’t easy considering the large number of alpha-type men we hire. But at the same time, she cares about everyone deeply.
I gather up my laptop and notepad before heading into the conference room. The place is empty, though that isn’t unusual because other than Jose and Margaret, our employees work in the field and not in the office. They will pop into the office to touch base, but even most of that is handled via conference calls.
“Mr. Simpson? Ms. Telford is here for your meeting,”
Margaret announces before stepping aside.
“Ms. Telford—”
Holy shit. Talk about not being what I expected at all. Based on Alec’s description, I was expecting a meek, shy woman. However, one glance at the beautiful woman who walks into the conference room tells me that my assumptions couldn’t be more wrong. She screams confidence, but not arrogance. Her head is held high as she maintains eye contact with me, walking towards me as if we’ve met several times already. Her shoulder-length, wavy, auburn hair catches my attention almost immediately. The second thing I notice is her attire: she’s dressed in a pantsuit that is fitted just enough to complement her curves.
“Mr. Simpson, thank you for taking the time to meet with me today, especially on such short notice.”
“Of…course, please have a seat.” I gesture toward the chair next to me, but once again, she surprises me. Rather than taking that seat, she walks around and sits in the chair on the opposite side of the table from the one I suggested. Interesting. It’s definitely not a power play, because she didn’t try to take my seat at the head of the table.
“Mr. Simpson, will you need anything else?”
“No, thank you. Have a good night, Margaret.”
While she looks through the bag she was carrying, I take a moment to, once again, look at the woman in front of me. I quickly push away any preconceived notions I had about her from what Alec told me earlier. I look away just as she sweeps her hair from her face, but not before her stunning blue eyes meet mine for the briefest moment.
That’s all it takes, for that moment to take me back to the worst time in my life. The eye color might be the only similarity to the young girl who still haunts my dreams at night, but it is enough for the memories to come rushing back. The last time I saw her, the last time I held her against me, the last time I told her I loved her.
I shake my head. When our eyes meet again, something flashes in hers, but it’s gone before I can even wonder what it was. She slides her resume across the table, but not without me noticing her shaking hands. Maybe the confidence I thought she had is just an act?
Luke (Dark Water Security Series Book 1) Page 7
