by Shandi Boyes
My reply awards me a bigger smile than I’m anticipating. It also has her arms wrapping around my waist. I feel like an A-grade moron when she buries her face into my chest. I thought she was snuggling in because she was eager to sniff my cologne, not because it’s fucking freezing.
Halfway up the hillside we’re trekking, Jamie asks, “Are you disappointed?”
“That the boobs squashed up against my arm aren’t bare? It’s a little disappointing, but my imagination is wondrous.”
She squeezes me instead of punching me like she normally would. “I meant that you didn’t skydive today, perve.”
“It’s my middle name.” I wait for her to finish laughing before answering her question. “Shockingly, no. We had fun, so I don’t feel like I missed out.”
She peers up at me with her big aqua eyes. “I doubt pig wrestling and skirmish come close to the high you get skydiving.”
“It does when I’m doing them with you.” I scan the horizon, waiting for a drove of gentlemen to welcome me into their elusive club since I articulated my reply without an ounce of ambiguity. When they fail to arrive, I devote my attention back to Jamie. “We kicked ass this afternoon. Those punks didn’t know what hit them.”
She laughs again. “Still can’t believe they booted us out. If he weren’t such a brat, you wouldn’t have shot him between the eyes.”
I smile as memories of our afternoon filter through my mind. I thought Jamie was a force to be reckoned with in a muddy field. It had nothing on her determination when we went three rounds of paintball with a group of teens who thought they had us suckered. “Bet he’ll think twice before he calls anyone four-eyes again.”
“Hopefully…” Her reply falls short when a cloudless night steals her words. “Colby.” She sounds like she’s about to sob. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen such a star-filled sky.”
I bring her closer to the peak before dragging my hand across a pure, uninterrupted skyline. “Now picture it from fifteen thousand feet in the air. You’re up there amongst the stars and the clouds.”
“Wow.” She smiles as brightly as the sea of stars stretching for as far as the eye can see. “I can see how it becomes addictive.” She shuffles on her feet to face me. “Have you ever jumped at night?”
I twist my lips to stifle my grin. “Are you asking as my insurance assessor or my friend?”
She laughs before whacking me in the gut. After rolling her eyes, she shifts her focus back to the view. I’m tempted to snuggle up to her back, but since I’m not into all that fancy shit guys do when they’re endeavoring to get into a girl’s panties, I act like a creeper by sliding my phone out of my pocket so I can take sneaky photographs of her to jerk off to later. I’ve been hard all day, so there’s no way my balls will make it until tomorrow without exploding. Jamie looks insanely sexy in the moonlight, so my pictures will be a great incentive.
“Colby,” Jamie says on a groan, spinning to face me. “Don’t take my photo. I look wretched.”
With my brow cocked, I snap her picture again, doubling the groove between her brows.
“At least let me take my glasses off.”
She jumps when I shout, “No! Leave them on. They’re you.” I stop in just enough time. I almost said, They make this Sci-Fi geek want to cream in his pants. “If you’re going to remove anything, take off your beanie. Let those crazy locks of yours spring free.”
Jamie peers at me with hesitation for a good twenty seconds before her hand creeps up to her head. After dragging her beanie off, she shakes out her curls. My dick hardens when her lavender scent streams through my nose. It has nothing on the smile stretched across my face when she lets me fake the role of a photographer for a good thirty pictures before she snatches my phone out of my hand.
“My turn.” After hitting the rotate button on the screen, she curls her arm around my waist then takes a selfie of us standing near the cliff’s edge. Because it is so dark, nothing but our beaming smiles are seen. “Can you forward that to me? My friend, Athena, is a whizz on photoshop. She’ll add a fake sky background and make it all jazzy and shit.”
I jerk up my chin. “All right, but only if she promises to forward me a copy.”
Since I’m not taking no for an answer, I remove my phone from her grasp before hitting my email app. My brows furrow when the arrival at my inbox has me stumbling onto a small handful of emails. Usually, my inbox is hammered with hundreds of emails per day. This one only has eight messages sitting unread. Excluding the one at the top, the rest follow a similar pattern—they have availability for an emergency transfer from Freedom Care.
I swallow the bile burning the back of my throat when my brain clicks as to why Freedom Care registers as familiar. It was one of the assisted-living facilities my dad tried to dump my mom in when she got sick.
The hits keep coming when I click into each email. They’re all addressed to Jamie, and they all state the same thing—they’d be honored to assist in the care of her mother.
“Your mom has Alzheimer’s.” I’m not asking a question. I’m stating a fact as it’s presented to me.
When Jamie’s eyes snap up to mine, tears glisten in them a mere second before anger dries them. She’s peering at my phone, at her emails I just opened. “Why are you reading my emails? How do you even know my password?”
“I don’t. You must not have logged out when you borrowed my phone.”
Her cheeks redden with anger like this isn’t the first time her privacy has been invaded. “That doesn’t give you the right to read them.”
When she attempts to snatch my phone out of my hand, I pull it out of her reach. “Does your mom have Alzheimer’s?” My voice is dark and dangerous as the shadow I struggle to conceal surfaces at a rate faster than I can shut it down. I’m shaking all over, unhinged, and on the verge of being sick.
“Why does it matter to you if she does? I’ve been tested. I don’t have the APOE-e4 risk gene.”
“You can still get Alzheimer’s even if you don’t have the gene!” I don’t know why I’m yelling. It won’t change anything. It will still be misery and heartbreak and a brutal reminder of how many ways I fucked up the past seven weeks.
Jamie’s eyes fill with pain and anger. They mimic the despair in my gut to a T. “You don’t think I know that! God, Colby, you can be a real insensitive jerk sometimes.”
When she charges down the hillside, I follow after her. “Me? I’m the fucking jerk. You’re the one who kept this secret. You’re the one who’s been lying.” Some of my anger should be directed at myself, but I’ve discovered an out, so I’m running for it. It’s what I do.
Jamie whips around so fast, even with her hair tightened by ringlets, it still slaps her cheek. “I didn’t keep it a secret. I told you my mom was sick.”
“Yes, sick! You didn’t say she was dying.”
She slaps me hard across the face. It’s not felt. I’m too gutted to feel something as meager as a slap of a woman in denial. “She’s not dying!”
I hate that she’s crying, and for the horrid way I’m expressing myself, but she needs to learn the truth quickly. If she doesn’t, the light in her eyes will be extinguished years before her heart stops beating. “She is, Jamie. She’s dying a miserable, undeserving death that will steal more than your heart when it happens. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be.”
She shakes her head so rigorously, tears fling off her cheeks. “I don’t have to learn anything. New research is conducted every day. They’re on the brink of a cure.”
“There’s no cure for Alzheimer’s. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.”
I steal the chance for her to retaliate with one of the many lies I’ve heard the past five months by storming back to the cabin and slamming the door behind me.
Chapter 28
Jamie
I glance up from the check Tyrone just handed me, blinking and confused. “I told Terry I didn’t want to be reimbursed.” I glance at Terry whose
wealth is more notable now than it was at the cabin. As he paces to a chauffeur-driven Bentley, he’s flanked by two bodyguards and a personal assistant. “It was kind of him to offer, but it’s not necessary.”
When I attempt to hand the check back to Tyrone, he refuses to accept it. “The check isn’t from Mr. Fousser. It’s from Colby.”
I grit my teeth with all my might, warning my eyes they better not spill a drop of moisture. I doubt they’d listen if anger weren’t roaring through my veins just as quickly as devastation. Colby hasn’t spoken a word to me since our exchange last night. He hasn’t even given me the pity look I usually get when people hear about my mom’s diagnosis, certain I’ll soon fall through the rabbit hole her brain went years ago. Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve had someone respond as angrily and bluntly as Colby did.
“Tell Colby I don’t want nor need his money.”
No matter how many times I thrust the check into Tyrone’s chest, he refuses to take it. “You paid for a service. You didn’t get the service you paid for, so you’re entitled to a refund.”
“I didn’t pay for anything, so if you truly believe a refund is necessary, it should be made out to my boss, Hugh…” My words trail off when a flare detonates in Tyrone’s eyes. He’s quick to shut it down, but not quick enough for a woman suspicious of everyone’s motives. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
Tyrone scrubs at the stubble on his chin when a squeal rumbles in my chest. He shouldn’t test me today. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. The ride back to Los Angeles was long and full of hushed whispers on what supposedly happened between Colby and me last night, and I’m hormonal. Now is not the time to piss me off.
Incapable of withstanding my glare for a second longer, Tyrone mutters, “Mr. Barnett purchased your ticket—”
“Exactly, so he deserves to be reimbursed for it.”
He continues talking as if I never did. “But a majority of the payment was made from the checking account of James Burgess.”
I freeze, my heart rate cantering. “My dad? Why would he do that?” I don’t know why I’m seeking confirmation from Tyrone. Other than knowing my dad’s name, he knows nothing about him.
“A lot of people owe you an explanation, Jamie. Just none appear to be willing to give it to you right now.” His eyes stray to Colby, who’s sitting in the van, acting like we didn’t arrive back in LA over thirty minutes ago. “He didn’t mean what he said.”
His eyes return to me when I reply, “Yes, he did. And it’s not okay.”
Needing to leave before the tears I’ve been keeping at bay the past sixteen hours fall, I remove my suitcase from Tyrone’s grasp, shove the check into my purse, then make my way to the cab I organized on the way home.
Although I want to confront my dad about Tyrone’s confession, my heart isn’t up to the task today. Instead, I ask the cab driver to take me to Metrics Insurance. I have days of missing work to catch up on and a separation to finalize. That should keep me bogged down long enough I won’t have time to think about a single thing that occurred this weekend—not even the good parts.
“You wanted to see me?” I barely placed down my suitcase when Hugh’s assistant came barreling into my office, demanding my immediate attendance in Hugh’s office. “If it’s about the weekend, I’ll need a few minutes to process everything before I can give you any type of report… personal or business-related.”
Hugh’s eyes snap up from a recently drafted indemnity form. When he realizes who’s standing in his doorway, his face goes deadpan, and my heart freezes. He’s an adrenaline junkie, so usually he’d be chomping at the bit to be updated on my weekend. Instead, he slouches into his chair before requesting me to close his door.
When I do as he requested, he jerks his head to the right. “Coffee?”
I gag. To me, coffee is the equivalent of drinking the sludge at the bottom of the Hudson. Disgusting with a capital ‘D’! But Hugh is aware of my dislike of coffee, so why is he offering me a cup?
My question is answered in an unfavorable light when my eyes sling in the direction of his state-of-the-art coffee machine. Mr. Luis is helping himself to a shot of espresso. You know those micro-shots that should be inserted into your vein instead of your mouth. He’s having one of those.
“Mr. Luis, twice in two months. You better be careful, or your other businesses might think you’re favoring us over them.”
He doesn’t respond to my jest with the same kindness he did last time, nor does he greet me with dual kisses on my cheeks. He glares at me, a stealthy, you’re-costing-me-money stare. “I thought my last visit portrayed my wish for Metrics Insurance to stop draining me of millions of dollars in unnecessary claims.”
I don’t recall him explicitly stating that, but it was the gist of his conversation.
“Yet here I am, only weeks later having a claim drawn against me for the amount of thirty million dollars.”
My eyes stray to Hugh, confused as to what Mr. Luis means. Thirty million is excessive for the coverage we generally insure. There’s only one company I handle that has that amount of liability—oh shit.
“Someone filed against The Drop Zone?”
When Hugh nods, my heart falls into my stomach. I’m not just frustrated for Colby and Tyrone, I’m panicked my job could be on the line. This is the last thing I need.
“Did they cite a defendant on the claim?”
Hugh’s eyes answer me before his mouth does. “Yes, Colby McGregor. They’re claiming gross negligence during a recent skydiving expedition.”
My emotions are shut down, but mercifully that doesn’t hinder the business side of my brain. “The Drop Zone’s clients sign waivers before every jump. We brought those measures into place when Mr. Celest filed his claim.”
Hugh shakes his head. “The claimant is stating although a brief rundown was given before his jump, no forms were signed, which means he has every right to sue.”
“What about video footage of their jump? Mr. Celest’s revealed he didn’t get the experience he paid for, but if you have footage showing the claimant enjoyed his jump, it will greatly benefit both Metrics Insurance and Mr. McGregor.”
I feel like I’m sucker punched when Hugh shakes his head. “Although the camera was switched on during their jump, it doesn’t give any indication to the feelings of the claimant. You can’t even see his face.”
“Which means this case will be nothing but his word against the accuser.” Mr. Luis spits out ‘his’ as if he hasn’t greatly benefited from the ridiculously high premiums he’s charged The Drop Zone the past two years. “I asked you to shut down this client’s request for insurance.”
“We had no reason to deny his request. That’s why I approved it.” I sound pissed. Rightfully so. I am. “I’ve worked for you for over eight years, Mr. Luis, and no disrespect, but when have I ever asked or needed your opinion when processing a request for insurance? This isn’t ideal, but until I’ve had the chance to properly investigate the claim of negligence, there’s no use getting your panties in a twist. That’s why you pay us, so you can sit in your ivory tower sipping sludge from the bottom of the Hudson.” I storm out of Hugh’s office, only realizing halfway to mine that I most likely just got myself fired. Thank God they have to give me four weeks’ notice as I’ll need every one of them to find a new position.
I bump into Athena as I enter my office. “Oh, thank God you’re back. The Drop Zone—”
“Is being sued? Yeah, I just discovered that, while most likely getting myself fired.” Athena balks, but I continue talking, stopping her from saying one of the many words I see in her eyes. “Do we know who the claimant is?”
Red hair falls into her face when she shakes her head. “The claim was filed under Holiday Free Pty Ltd.”
I stop halfway around my desk. “The same travel insurance company Mr. Celest used?” When Athena’s shake switches to a nod, I murmur, “That can’t be a coincidence. Mr. Cele
st’s settlement was just funded, and now they lodge another claim.”
“Those were my exact thoughts. That’s why I spent the past hour gathering everything I could on the new claim.” She places a stack of manila folders onto my desk. “I hope you enjoyed your weekend away. I don’t see you leaving your office for the next few days.”
“Mel?” My assistant, Melanie Alonzo, pops her head into my office. “Hold all my calls. I don’t care how urgent they appear, take down their details and tell them I’ll call them back.”
She looks panicked. I discover why when she asks, “Does that include Mr. Valeron? He’s already called three times this morning.”
I throw my coat over my desk before taking a seat. “It includes everyone, both personal and professional. Tell them I’m still away, and that I don’t get back until tomorrow.” When Athena looks at me with wide, panicked eyes, I hit her with a stern finger point. “Don’t. If I don’t have a job, I’ll lose more than a few Christmas presents this year.”
“Okay. Fine.” She hustles Mel out of my office before closing my door. “But once this is sorted—”
“We’ll have words. I get it.”
Several hours later, I finally get a break in the case. It wasn’t any place I should have been looking, but it’s undeniable proof that it isn’t just The Drop Zone being played. I am as well. With reports, affidavits, and video footage going against my company, I took a five-second breather. That, like every other American, included a quick scan of my inbox. Since Colby ‘read’ a majority of my emails last night, one stood out more than the rest. It’s a response from the travel insurance company Brad used for our honeymoon, granting my request for a refund. Although I asked him to use a subsidiary company of Metrics Insurance, he went with the broker Markham Properties Corporation uses. The trading name on the bottom of their disclaimer reveals it’s umbrellaed under the same insurance company that’s suing The Drop Zone.
