Текст книги "Release Me"
Автор книги: Ann Marie Walker
Соавторы: Amy K. Rogers
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Titles by Ann Marie Walker & Amy K. Rogers
Chasing Fire Trilogy
Remind Me
Release Me
Release Me
Ann Marie Walker & Amy K. Rogers
InterMix Books, New York
AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE LLC
375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014
RELEASE ME
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2015 by Ann Marie Walker and Amy K. Rogers.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.
eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19477-9
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / July 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
____________________________________
Penguin Random House is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
When we started writing this book it had already been sold. Some agents might have felt their work was done, but not Pamela Harty. She not only got the ball rolling, but her support and encouragement throughout the process kept us sane. Pamela, it has been a privilege to call you our agent, but even more so to call you friend.
To our editor, Leis Pederson, we will never stop thanking our lucky stars that something about our writing made you pick up the phone. Without you, Hudson and Allie’s story would exist only on the pages of Google docs, and for that we will be forever grateful. To Erin Galloway and Ryanne Probst, thank you for helping us introduce Hudson Chase. You both are a wealth of knowledge and your mad skills have been invaluable!
To our amazing street team: Jill Cahr, Lori Schricker, Margaret Fahey, Michelle Fields, Megan Schopp, Natalie Shaw, Sarah Blair, Sarah Gutchall, Tracey Wess, Colleen O’Brien, Eunice Jaquez, Julie Stroop, Misty Villanueva, and Michelle Kirn. Thank you for not only agreeing to be our early readers but for cheering us on and making us believe someone might actually like our little story. To Kaylee Simonetti, there is a special place in heaven for someone pimping books while in the ER. You are certifiable and we couldn’t love you more! And for Maggie Roache, thank you for being our grammar guru and for always knowing the perfect Taylor Swift or Beyonce song to pull us through.
To the book bloggers who devoted their time to reading and reviewing our work, you are the reason so many have welcomed Hudson Chase into the ranks of their beloved book boyfriends. We would be nothing without your unwavering support. Forget buying you a cocktail, we need to throw a rager.
And last but not least, to the readers, thank you for taking a chance on us. You spent your hard earned money on a pair of debut authors and we couldn’t be happier to have you along for the ride. The tweets and Facebook messages you have sent literally from around the world never fail to humble and touch us. Thank you for sticking with us . . . we hope to do you and Hudson proud.
To David Gandy, for your continued inspiration and well wishes, we are eternally grateful.
CONTENTS
Titles by Ann Marie Walker & Amy K. Rogers
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Chapter One
Allie tried her best to ignore the blue flashing lights in her parents’ driveway. But from her seat in the living room she had a clear view of the brick-paved courtyard just beyond the front door. And she knew that just beyond the courtyard’s limestone fountain stood a row of uniformed officers forming a human barrier along yellow tape. And beyond that tape stood a crowd of reporters with cameras and microphones, all jockeying for a better position among the curious who had gathered at the gates.
Instead she focused her attention on the detective standing in front of her. The middle-aged woman wore clothes more suited for a man and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Yet despite her hard-as-nails appearance, there was an undeniable kindness in her eyes when she told Allie it was time to take her statement.
Allie nodded but didn’t speak. She hadn’t said more than a handful of words since placing the call to 911.
The detective stood and reached inside her jacket for a small notebook. Her movements revealed the badge she wore clipped to her waist and the gun she kept holstered at her side.
Allie’s eyes drifted shut and her mind filled with images of gunshot wounds and blood.
So much blood. . . .
“Alessandra.”
She opened her eyes to find Benjamin Weiss, general counsel for Ingram Media, making his way through the foyer. As always, he was impeccably groomed in a dark suit and tie with a perfectly folded handkerchief peeking out of the breast pocket. Only this time his tie was askew and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
“My apologies,” he said, out of breath. “I came as soon as I heard, but the roads are clogged with news vans.”
As soon as he heard? Allie had no idea who had called Mr. Weiss, but she was glad to have him at her side. Benjamin Weiss was more than just the family’s attorney; he had also been her father’s best friend.
A few quiet words were spoken between Mr. Weiss and Detective Green, and then she was ready to begin. She sat on the coffee table across from Allie and uncapped her pen. “Walk me through what happened after you pulled in the driveway,” she instructed. Her tone was all business; just another day at the office for a homicide detective.
Allie tried to speak but her words came out on a strangled sob.
Mr. Weiss placed his hand on her shoulder. “Would you like some water?” he asked, glancing toward the kitchen and paling as his gaze fell on the scene unfolding in the dining room.
Don’t look.
Allie kept her stare trained on the detective’s pen as she answered Mr. Weiss. “I’m fine.” There wasn’t a person in Chicago who would’ve believed that statement, but a bottle of water wasn’t going to make things any better. And with the way her stomach felt, she doubted she’d be able to keep it down anyway.
“Just take it slow,” Detective Green said.
Allie drew a shaky breath and began to retell the events of the past few hours. “I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I opened the front door.”
“How so?” the detective asked.
“The alarm didn’t make any noise.”
“You mean it wasn’t armed?”
Allie shook her head. “No, I mean it wasn’t working. Even if it’s unarmed, the system still chimes to announce when a door or window has been opened.”
Detective Green scribbled a few notes on the small pad of paper in her hand. “What happened after you came in the house?”
“I could see the light was on in my dad’s study, so I headed that way first.”
Tears clouded Allie’s eyes as she looked across the expanse of the paneled living room to the hallway just to the right of the front door. Her throat tightened as she thought back to how confident she’d felt striding down that hall. For as long as Allie could remember, every aspect of her life had been dictated by what was best for the family legacy. But this time her parents had taken it too far. Going behind her back to arrange a marriage that was nothing more than a business transaction was the last straw. She was done playing the role of the dutiful daughter and she’d planned to tell them so in no uncertain terms.
But when she’d reached the door . . .
“And that’s when you discovered the body?”
“Yes,” she whispered, recalling the image of her father’s lifeless body slumped over his desk. Her gaze shifted to the Kleenex she held clutched in her hand. It had been twisted into something more closely resembling twine than tissue.
“Is your father normally home during the day?”
A few months ago Allie could have answered without a doubt. Her father would have never been home in the middle of the day. But lately he’d been scaling back, letting Julian lead some of the day-to-day meetings as he prepared to take the helm after their wedding.
Julian.
Just thinking about her former fiancé sent a chill down her spine. Her finger touched the remnants of the black eye he’d given her the week before. She’d done her best to cover the shadow of a bruise with concealer, but the makeup had surely been washed away with tears by now.
“Miss Sinclair?” Detective Green prodded.
“Oh, um, no. Usually it’s just my mother and the housekeeper.” Allie gasped.
“She’s fine,” Detective Green assured her. “She was out running errands until just a short while ago.”
“I assume you’re taking her statement as well?” Mr. Weiss asked.
The detective nodded. “We’ll need confirmation from the medical examiner, but it looks like this all took place shortly after she left. If that’s the case, the perpetrators may have waited for her to leave, assuming no one else was in the house.”
A flash came from the dining room, and without thinking, Allie turned toward it. Flash. A photographer stood with his back to her, his camera pointed at the mirrored wall. Allie watched his reflection as he focused his lens on the blood splattered across the wall right behind the spot where her mother had last stood. Flash. He stepped closer, his lens telescoping, and she knew he was capturing details of the images she’d seen when she’d first stumbled into the room—blood and gray matter mixed with shards of mirror and bone. Flash. A moment later he squatted beside the blood that had pooled on the Aubusson rug, photographing her mother’s face, her eyes open and frozen in fear.
Allie tasted bile in the back of her throat, and for a moment she thought she might throw up. This was not her life. This was some horrible dream, the result of watching one too many police procedural shows. It had to be.
“Why are they doing that?” she whispered, not really meaning to say the words out loud.
Detective Green looked up from her notebook. “Doing what?”
“Why are they bagging her hands?”
The detective’s eyes darted to Mr. Weiss, then back to Allie. She hesitated for a moment, but when she answered her voice was level. “To preserve any physical evidence that may have resulted from a struggle.”
A commotion by the front door drew Allie’s attention. Two men in black jackets wheeled a gurney across the marble floor. CORONER was printed in white lettering across their backs, and when they turned toward the library she could see a long black bag stretched the length of the bed.
Oh, God . . .
An involuntary sob escaped her lips at the thought of her father being zipped into a vinyl bag.
Mr. Weiss offered her his handkerchief and she took it.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get Miss Sinclair home,” he said, his voice tight. “She’s been through quite an ordeal.”
Detective Green regarded Allie for a moment, then stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her wool pants. “I’ll need to take a more detailed statement in the morning.” She held out her business card. “But in the meantime, if you think of anything else.”
Mr. Weiss took the card. “Thank you, Detective.” Before she walked away, he assured her his office would call to set up an appointment.
“I’ve arranged for a car to drive you home,” he told Allie once they were alone. “And for private security to be stationed at your brownstone tonight.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“Just as a precaution,” he quickly added. “Right now the police think this was nothing more than a home invasion gone wrong, but I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”
Allie nodded.
“Is there someone I can call for you?”
Hudson.
His was the first name that came to mind, just as it had repeatedly for the past few hours. She needed him now more than ever. Needed the strength of his arms around her, holding her up when she felt too weak to stand.
But she wouldn’t let herself call him. She couldn’t. Not after the way he’d deceived her. She had to keep moving forward. No looking back.
Hudson Chase was out of her life. For good this time.
“I’ll call my friend Harper,” Allie said.
“She’s not a redhead by any chance, is she?”
“Yes, why?”
“She saved you the trouble of a call.” He smiled weakly. “She’s been raising hell at the barricades for the past hour.”
Yep, that would be Harper. “Would you mind bringing her around back to the garage and having the car meet us there? I really don’t want to deal with the crowds out front.”
“Of course. And I’ll see that both your cars are returned to the city in the morning.”
Allie stood. “Thank you for . . .” Her voice trailed off. She knew she’d never get through the rest of that sentence.
His eyes crinkled and he gave a quick nod. “There is one more item we need to discuss before you go.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not. Although I imagine some of the press corps will leave once they realize you’re no longer in the house, a few will remain until a statement is released. I can have the PR department draft something from the company as a whole, or you can certainly write your own if you’d prefer. There’s also the matter of an internal memo to your employees, but we can address that tomorrow.”
“My employees?” What in the world is he talking about?
He met her confused expression with one of his own. After a moment the crease in his brow relaxed. “Forgive me, I thought you realized.” His voice was soothing yet firm. “As you know, your mother and father were both heavily invested in Ingram.”
This wasn’t news. In fact, for decades the company her maternal grandfather built from the ground up had been privately owned. It wasn’t until a rough patch in the late seventies that her father had been forced to take the company public, but even then the family had retained controlling interest.
“As the sole heir to their estate, those shares are now yours. Alessandra, you are the new majority shareholder of Ingram Media.”
Allie rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t even considered the effect her parents’ death would have on the family business, let alone what role she’d play. Hundreds of questions raced through her mind, but the pounding in her head was making it hard to focus.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re tired. We can hold off on everything else until tomorrow and just release a statement from the company tonight. I’ll have the PR team draft something, and if you prefer I can run it by Mr. Chase.”
Allie’s head snapped up. Hudson? Why in the hell would he run it past him? She realized the answer just as Mr. Weiss began to explain.
“Over the past few months there have been various investment groups quietly purchasing shares of Ingram. It wasn’t until recently that we realized these purchases were on behalf of one individual.
“How this will impact day-to-day operations remains to be seen. A fair amount of shares are still held in smaller quantities by numerous individuals, but Mr. Chase’s most recent acquisitions make him the second largest shareholder outside of the Sinclair/Ingram estate.” He exhaled a heavy sigh. “We can discuss this more at length after we get through the next few days. I don’t want to overwhelm you right now.”
Too late. “Okay.”
“I’ll go find your friend.” He gave her arm an awkward pat before turning toward the door. A question popped into her mind as she watched him walk away. It seemed ridiculous in light of what was happening all around her, but for some inexplicable reason, she needed to know.
“Mr. Weiss?” she called out before he reached the foyer.
He turned to face her. “Yes?”
Allie took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe she could limit their interaction. “What’s the margin?”
“Pardon me?”
“The difference in stock percentages, between me and . . .” Her voice caught on his name. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What’s the difference in stock percentages between . . .”
Damn it. Why couldn’t she get the words to come out of her mouth?
“Between you and Mr. Chase?”
She nodded.
“One percent.”
The weight of the day crashed down around her and Allie sank to the couch. On top of everything else, it seemed Hudson Chase was her new business partner.
Chapter Two
Allie barely looked at the two caskets during the morning service at Fourth Presbyterian Church. Instead she kept her attention focused on the pastor as he spoke of eternal life, the organist as she played hymns to accompany the choir, or the specks of dust that drifted across the rainbow of light streaming through the stained glass windows. Anything and everything to avoid facing the reality of why they were there. Even as she stood at the podium to address five hundred strangers, she somehow managed to convince herself it wasn’t real. The two people she eulogized weren’t her parents. They were a businessman and his philanthropic wife, not her and father and mother. Not the only family she had in the world.
But as she sat under a tent in the first row of wooden folding chairs, it was impossible to avoid the two mahogany caskets lying side by side in front of her. The smell from the cascade of lilies draped over the top was almost smothering despite the crisp November breeze. And the sight of them, perched above a discreetly covered but freshly dug grave, was a brutal reminder of her loss. Both her parents were dead, gunned down in their own home by what the police were suspecting was a random act of violence. She knew it was ridiculous to think of herself as an orphan at her age, and yet that’s exactly how she felt. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-seven years old; her parents were gone, and she’d never felt more alone.
Her grief over the past few days had been overwhelming, an almost debilitating sadness woven with a rage that burned deep within her. She suspected it was that rage that kept her moving forward. The idea that each day might bring a new lead was the only thing getting her out of bed when she woke from a fitful sleep filled with gruesome images. But she wasn’t just angry with the shooter, she was angry with her parents. They were gone and now she’d never get the chance to confront them, to tell them she was done living by the unwritten code of the Ingram-Sinclair empire. She’d never have the chance to tell them how angry she was with them for attempting to control her life. How much she hated them for trying to manipulate her into marrying Julian. How hurt she was by the endless stream of lies. Or how no matter what, deep down they were still her parents and she loved them.
Her body shook with a silent sob.
Harper reached for Allie’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Are you okay?” she whispered from beside her.
Allie met her friend’s concerned gaze with watery eyes and gave a small nod. Harper had been a near constant presence in Allie’s life since storming the barricades the night of the murders. She’d insisted Allie stay at her apartment, an offer that proved to be a godsend when their driver reached Astor Place only to find the entire block filled with news vans and satellites. Harper had braved the media frenzy alone, leaving Allie cocooned behind the limo’s tinted glass while she gathered items from the brownstone. And that was only the beginning. Whether sitting beside her as she selected headstones or hovering in the kitchen while she met with detectives, Harper had seen Allie through what had arguably been the worst five days of her life. There was no way Allie could have made it through the ordeal without Harper, and she would be grateful to her for the rest of her life.
The wind shifted and the air crackled with a charge of electricity that swept over Allie’s skin. Her every sense sprang to attention, and instinctively she looked up and to her left. She hadn’t noticed the size of the crowd that had accompanied the two hearses, but as she looked across the cemetery she realized there had to be at least three hundred people seated in and around the white tent. A sense of anticipation coiled in Allie’s stomach as she scanned row after row of faces, searching for the one whose presence she could feel as tangibly as if he were the one sitting beside her holding her hand.
Hudson Chase.
Just the thought of him caused her heart to race. He’d always had this effect on her, from the very first moment she saw him ten years ago. Her friends at the yacht club might have viewed him as nothing more than another townie looking for trouble, but Allie saw past the stereotypical exterior of ripped jeans and a leather jacket. She knew the real Hudson. The one who took her for long walks along the beach. The one who made her laugh so hard she cried. The one whose kisses made her knees go weak.
When she’d turned around to find him standing behind her two months ago, the mere sight of him took her breath away. Even after ten years the connection was still there, so tangible she could almost see it pulse in the air between them. Everything about him called to her on some primal level. From the dark, unruly hair she longed to run her fingers through, to the intensity of his gaze when his blue eyes locked on hers, to the way he held her on the dance floor, her body responding with a longing it knew for no other. He’d felt it too, and despite her engagement had pursued her with an unrelenting passion until she was his, body and soul—and then betrayed her in the worst way possible.
A woman in a wide-brimmed hat shifted in her seat, and Allie’s breath caught. She looked away after only a glimpse of the dark, wavy hair, but she was certain. It was him. Her hands curled into fists in her lap, her fingernails biting into her palm. How dare he show his face here? After everything he’d done to steal her father’s company out from under him, Hudson Chase had the nerve to attend his funeral?
Bagpipes began to play but Allie could barely hear them over the sound of the blood roaring in her ears. Harper reached for her elbow, urging her to her feet as the pastor approached to offer his final condolences. Allie’s knees wobbled as she extended her hand.
“They were wonderful people, Alessandra. Their loss will be felt by the entire congregation.”
A quiet “Thank you” was all she managed in reply.
Harper leaned closer. “Maybe you better sit back down. You look as white as a ghost.”
“No, I need to . . .” Allie looked over Harper’s shoulder just as the man behind the wide-brimmed hat rose to his feet. Her chest tightened.
It wasn’t him.
“You need to what?” Harper asked.
“Nothing,” Allie mumbled. What the hell was wrong with her? Hudson Chase was the last person she should want to see at her parents’ funeral. And yet of all the emotions waging war inside her, there was no denying the fact that at the moment the strongest was . . . disappointment.
A quiet murmur built around her as the mourners began making their way back to their cars. Some lingered, and selfishly Allie hoped they wouldn’t approach. As the new majority stockholder of Ingram Media, she knew there were people she should greet and hands she should shake. But as the only child of the two people about to be buried under six feet of dirt, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Actually, despite her feelings of anger and betrayal, in that moment what she truly wanted was nothing more than to have Hudson’s arms around her. To feel the soothing touch of his hands stroking her hair. To hear the rasp of his voice whispering in her ear, telling her everything would be okay, and to know that despite all evidence to the contrary, it would be.
Allie straightened. She had to stop thinking of Hudson as some white knight riding in to save the day. He was a dark knight whose duplicity had hurt her far too deeply to ever let him back into her life.
Elizabeth Prescott waved a gloved hand at her from across the tent. Allie cringed. She was definitely not up to a round of country club small talk with her mother’s friends. She glanced around, and within seconds wide shoulders stepped between Allie and the rest of the mourners.
“The car is ready when you are, Miss Sinclair. Just say the word.”
Allie tried her best to muster a smile. “Thank you, Clayton. I’m ready now.”
He gave a curt nod and whispered discreetly into a microphone barely noticeable at the cuff of his dark suit. Having a bodyguard wasn’t something Allie had ever wanted, but Mr. Weiss had been adamant, insisting the additional security was necessary to ensure her safety during the ongoing police investigation. In the end she’d agreed to the added precaution on a temporary basis. At the time her concession had been more to relieve his worry than hers, but she had to admit Clayton’s shielding presence came in handy at moments like these.
“This way, ma’am.” He gestured toward the rear of the tent.
In the distance Allie could see the black limo waiting at the bottom of the hill. She paused, her hand reaching out to rest on the gleaming wood of her father’s casket, before turning to leave. She and Harper had nearly reached the car when she heard someone call her name.
“Alessandra,” Benjamin Weiss said, hurrying to catch up to her. “A word, please.”
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” Harper said. She slid into the limo and Clayton closed the door behind her before assuming his post a few feet away. Allie knew that behind those dark sunglasses his razor-sharp gaze was scanning the crowd, and that beneath that well-tailored suit a loaded gun was holstered. She tried not to think about why, focusing her attention instead on Mr. Weiss.
“I’m sorry to bring this up now,” he said, “but the board has called for an emergency meeting at Ingram headquarters. I’d hoped to put this off until at least next week, but between your parents’ passing and the revelation of Mr. Chase’s acquisitions . . . Well, I’m sure you can understand their concern.”
Allie nodded. Of course the other board members were concerned. Richard and Victoria Sinclair were gone, and now their daughter, a relative stranger to them, was at the helm alongside a man who’d spent the past few months covertly acquiring a substantial portion of their stock. When he wasn’t fucking her on every available surface, that is. At least the last part wasn’t general knowledge. It was going to be hard enough to face that room with Hudson sitting across the table from her. Thankfully no one on the board knew about their personal involvement.
“When?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning.” Mr. Weiss gave her a quick rundown of the proposed agenda before ducking into the back of a waiting town car.
Allie pulled her coat closed and crossed her arms over her chest, holding the pieces of herself together as she stared out across the top of the limo at row after row of headstones. When she’d walked out of Hudson’s penthouse two weeks prior, she hadn’t planned on ever seeing him again. Now she had a little less than twenty-four hours to prepare for her first board meeting with him. She had no idea how she would react once they were in the same room, but one thing was certain: she had to keep her distance. And never, under any circumstances, allow herself to be alone with him.
