Текст книги "Behind Your Back"
Автор книги: Chelsea M. Cameron
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
I look around at the boys and we all sort of realize that he’s serious and he’s not going to tell us, no matter how much we ask.
“Vote?” I say.
“All in favor of giving Baz money?” Every single hand goes up. Well, except for Baz’s. He just stands there and stares at us all, as if he can’t believe it.
“Okay, vote is unanimous. Hardy, can you set everything up?” He nods and Baz sits back down with a thump.
“Thank you,” he says, so quiet I can barely hear him.
“You’re welcome. But just know this is a one-time thing. And it better not get you into trouble.” I have the feeling this is going to get him or someone out of trouble. Hopefully.
Track cleared his throat and then asked if anyone wanted another beer while he was up and getting one out of the fridge.
That breaks the tension and the business portion of our meeting ends and the non-business part starts. Yes, we all work together toward a common goal, but we also genuinely like each other. For lack of a better word, these are my brothers. My family.
I’m the last to leave and Cash grabs my arm before I head out the door.
“Hey, are you doing okay? You seem a little… off.”
Shit. I don’t want to talk about this.
“I’m fine. Seriously. Just tired.” He studies me for a while and then smiles. So fucking happy. Cash is so good at faking a smile, sometimes I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.
“Just checking in.” He slaps me on the shoulder and holds the door open.
“Well don’t,” I say before I head downstairs and out into the night.
Twelve
“Have any lunch plans?” Saige says after Grace puts her through on my work line.
“Why, are you going to suggest something?” I say, glad I’m not with a client so I can talk to her without anyone eavesdropping.
“Well, I just got out of class and I was thinking that maybe you’d like to grab tacos or something at this little place off campus. But if you’re terribly busy, I understand.” The last sentence is dripping with sarcasm.
“I think that can be arranged,” I say and she rattles off the address. I grab my cell phone and type it in so I can find it. I’m going to have to cab it to get there.
“Meet you there in ten?” I say.
“Perfect.” I hang up and realize there’s a smile on my face. I definitely need to stop that. She’s a job. A mark. Well, the daughter of a mark. Nothing more. When she’s gone, I won’t even think about her. Just like I don’t think about the other former marks. Their names and faces and bodies all blur together. I don’t even know how many there have been. I should feel bad about it. But I don’t.
I think on that for a moment as I put my cell phone in my jacket pocket and head out to meet Saige. But then her face fills my brain and cancels everything else out.
“Dare you,” Saige says when our tacos come with three choices of salsa. Mild, Regular and Surface of the Sun.
“Only if you do,” I say, reaching for the cup of Surface of the Sun.
“You’re on,” she says, sticking her fork into the sauce and then blobbing it on top of her taco. I do the same and we both lift our tacos up.
“Ready?” she says.
“Absolutely,” I say and we bite down at the same time. Shit, they weren’t kidding. I’m no pansy when it comes to salsa but holy SHIT.
I chew and swallow, but I can’t do it without a cough. My eyes instantly water and I drop the taco on my plate before reaching for my water. I know it won’t stop the pain, but I don’t know what else to do.
“Holy fucking shit,” Saige coughs out and I can’t see through the tears streaming through my eyes, but I can imagine she’s doing the same thing I’m doing.
Pain. So much pain. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d be amused by her cursing.
It takes a while for both of us to be able to breathe and see again.
“Tried the SOS salsa, didn’t you?” our waitress says, coming to refill our water glasses. I blink at her and see the smirk on her face.
“Yeah,” I choke out as I reach for the water and drain it.
“Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you,” she sing-songs as she goes to check on another table.
“That was a terrible idea,” Saige says, her eyes red. I’ve finally stopped crying so I can see her now. Her hair is straight, and partially held back on one side of her face with bobby pins. She’s casual today, in jeans and a black t-shirt that’s just a little bit tight. It’s a good look for her. There are tiny little crystal skull studs in her ears. I imagine this outfit pisses her father off and that pleases me. Soon, this will seem like no big deal. Not after I’m through with him.
“That was a bad choice,” I agree and we both laugh.
“I think I’m going to stick with the mild. If I have any taste buds left.” I wasn’t sure if I had any either.
We shared the mild salsa and finished our tacos before splitting a piece of chocolate cake.
“I’m so full, I don’t want to move,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
“Same here. And I’m pretty sure it’s going to take a while to recover from that salsa. Holy hell.” She cringes.
“Do you have to go back right away?” she asks as I look at my watch.
“No, I have some time.” This is a lie. I have an appointment in twenty minutes and it’s going to take at least ten to get back by cab. I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Grace.
“So, how was class today?” I ask. I need to learn as much about her as soon as possible so I can use it to get closer.
She describes her classes and I ask her more about her major and why she chose it.
“I’m not sure. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. And I think a little part of me wanted to pick something my dad would hate.” She’s always talking about her dad, but not about her mother. I wonder if there’s a story there. Something I might be able to use to my advantage.
“And did it work?”
She laughs.
“Did it ever. I was treated to quite the lecture. But I went ahead and declared my major anyway. I’m not a child. I can do what I want.” No, she’s definitely not a child and I suspect even when she was, she didn’t let anyone push her around.
“And you love it,” I say. It’s not a question. It’s easy to see when she talks about her classes. Well, except for drawing. She doesn’t like that very much.
“It feels like I’m doing something that matters. Something important. That might sound silly, but I don’t care. Paintings are some of the only historical records we have in some cases. Especially of historical figures. Even though the portraits probably aren’t as accurate. But who doesn’t put a filter on their Instagram pictures?” The last part makes me burst out laughing.
“That’s a good point. So, what are your plans after you graduate? Travel the world? Find yourself?”
She presses her lips together.
“Not sure yet. We’ll see. I don’t like to speculate on the future beyond today.” I like that.
“I can drink to that,” I say, raising my glass of water. We clink our glasses together and then she asks me if I want to take a walk.
“The last time we took a walk, I fucked you up against a wall,” I say, but she doesn’t react. As if she was expecting me to say that. It’s going to take more than that to shock her.
“True,” she says as I leave a generous tip for the waitress, even though she laughed at us.
“So are you saying it could happen again?” I ask as I hold the door for her.
“We’ll see,” she says, giving me a little smirk. Oh hell. What is this girl doing to me?
The sun is brilliant on Saige’s hair. Almost blinding.
“Where to?” I ask.
“This way,” she answers, pointing. It’s just like the night of our first date, with her leading the way. But only because I let her. I’m still in control.
“So tell me more about you, Quinn Brand. You’ve asked all kinds of questions about me, now it’s my turn.” I have answers ready for anything she could potentially ask me. I’ve done this part so many times before.
“What do you want to know?” She taps her chin as if she’s thinking really hard. Like she hasn’t thought about it until now, which I know is bullshit. She said she doesn’t plan for any day further than today, but now I think that’s a lie.
“Everything. Where did you grow up? Do you have any brothers or sisters? What’s your mother like? How old were you when you learned to ride a bike? Have you ever played Truth or Dare?” That is… a lot of questions.
“Do you want me to answer them all at once?” She laughs.
“You don’t have to. Just start with something. Anything.”
I’d rather not tell her about my fake childhood where I’d paint her a rosy picture of cookies and two parents and Christmases with mounds of toys. I want to talk about something different.
“I have never played Truth or Dare.” It’s nice to be honest with her, at least for this question.
“Never? Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“How is that possible?”
I shrug.
“No idea. Just never came up. Have you?” I turn the questions back on her.
“What else was there to do at sleepovers once you’d done prank calls and snuck into your parents’ liquor cabinet?” I stifle a laugh.
“Well, pillow fights come to mind,” I say and she lightly punches my shoulder.
“That’s just a male fantasy, by the way. I have never had a pillow fight in my life.”
“Now that is a damn shame.”
“Perv.”
We reach another intersection and she points. I have no idea where we’re going and I don’t care. People pass by and the city noise envelops us, but I’m focused on her.
“What is the craziest dare you’ve done?” I ask. I really, really want to know.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me about your first kiss.” Damn. I definitely don’t want to tell her about that and not because I don’t want to talk about my personal life; it’s an embarrassing story. Beyond embarrassing.
“Deal,” I say. “But you have to go first.”
She sighs as if it’s a huge imposition.
“Fine. But this better be a good story.” I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, even if I hate telling it.
“It is.”
She blows out a breath and looks straight ahead.
“The craziest dare I ever did was when I was sixteen. Oh God, it was so dumb. So we’d been doing Hamlet in school, so I got dared to do Ophelia’s death scene with a Scottish accent in the middle of Wal-Mart. Let’s just say I didn’t get through the entire scene before I was asked to leave and then escorted out of the store. I refused ever to go back to that store afterwards. Good thing that was before a lot of phones could take video on them or else it would probably be on YouTube for all the world to see.” I laugh. I can totally picture her doing that.
“Man, I wish there were a video. That’s something I’d like to see. Maybe you can reenact it for me sometime?” She rolled her eyes.
“Hell no. Now, tell me about your first kiss.” Now it was my turn to sigh and bear my awkward childhood.
“I was ten and it was at camp.” As soon as I start telling the story, I am sucked back in time to that bunk and that girl. Lacey.
“There was this girl, Lacey, I’d had a crush on all summer, but I’d been too shy to do anything about it. Of course I was an idiot and told one of my friends and then the entire boys’ bunk knew and teased me about it. Finally, I had to kiss her just to shut them up. So I passed her a note during lunch and told her to sneak away and meet me in the boys’ bunk during arts and crafts. I was freaking out and had to keep rubbing my palms on my shorts. She came and I remember wishing I’d watched more romantic movies so I’d have the right thing to say. I don’t really remember what happened next, but we ended up sitting on my bunk and I leaned in and kissed her. She smelled like gum and bug spray. She pulled back so fast I almost fell off the bunk. And then she threw up in my lap.”
I cringe, remembering the smell. I’d had to go shower and change and try and get the smell out of my mattress. It stunk a little bit for the last week of camp. But at least no one teased me about not kissing her. Instead they teased me about her throwing up. Because of course that got out as well.
“Oh my God, Quinn,” Saige says through a laugh. She grabs my arm and we stop walking. Then she throws her head back and laughs at my misfortune. I should probably mind, but I don’t. I’d laugh at me too.
“That is the most tragic first kiss story I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It was pretty traumatizing.” I’d been horrified it was something I did that caused her to vomit. Like my breath was bad, or I was gross or something. Took me four years to try again, and luckily that girl didn’t vomit during any of our kisses. She was my first actual girlfriend.
“Do you know what she’s doing now? Lacey?”
“No idea. I haven’t thought about her for a long time.”
“You should look her up online. I bet you could find her.”
“I’m not sure I want to. Sometimes the past needs to say in the past.” We start walking again and she grabs my wrist to check for the time.
“Shit, I need to get back.” I’ve completely lost track of time but I don’t want to go back to work. I want to cancel everything and just spend the day with her. And the night. But my wants aren’t important. Moving the relationship in the right direction to get what I need is. It’s the only thing that that matters.
“Share a cab?” I ask.
“Sure.”
She hails one and we give our destinations. We’re going in opposite directions and the cabbie is a little disgruntled, but I hand him a twenty and he shuts his trap.
“So what are your plans for tonight? Got a hot date?” She’s definitely fishing for a date invitation. Very nice.
“I’m not sure yet. What are you up to?”
“Homework. As usual. I have exams coming up so I don’t have much time for anything else.” Damn.
She gives me a little sad smile.
“I’d say you could come and watch me study, but it would be very dull for you and very distracting for me.”
“It would definitely not be dull. You could never be dull, Saige Juliette Beaumont.” Her name tastes right in my mouth and on my tongue.
“You overestimate my ability to be interesting when I’m staring at textbooks and typing on my laptop, but I’ll take it as a compliment.” Her eyes do that crinkle thing again and I know I’ve pleased her.
“Well, if you want a study break, just let me know.” We’re at the entrance to her school.
“I will. Bye, Quinn.” She hesitates for just a moment before leaning in and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“Bye, Saige.” The cabbie pulls away while she’s still standing there on the sidewalk staring at me.
Thirteen
Since I hadn’t gotten any more of the text messages I figured whoever it was had gotten bored of antagonizing me. Of course that’s when I get another one. This time it’s a picture. Of me leaving my office the night before. I only know because I remember what tie I was wearing.
There’s no message, but the intent and meaning is clear: I’m watching you.
I consider throwing the burner phone across the room and watching as it shatters against the wall, but that would solve absolutely nothing. The mystery stalker has escalated the situation and now it’s time to call in reinforcements.
I grab yet another phone from under my bed and call Cash.
“They sent a picture of me leaving my office, so not only are they hacking the phones, they’re tailing me now.”
“Don’t we have enough to deal with right now?” Even chipper Cash sounds a little exasperated at this latest turn of events.
“I know.”
“Okay, so we’re going to have to draw them out. I’ll call the guys and we’ll set up surveillance. I know you’re going to hate it, but that’s just the way it’s gotta be.” We’ve dealt with similar situations before. The people we target have a lot of money and resources at their disposal and aren’t very happy when they find out they’re several million dollars poorer.
“Do you think we should bail?” I say. This is the last thing I want to do, but it’s an option we need to consider.
“Let’s not pull that trigger just yet. The boys and I will see what we can do and then we’ll go from there. I’m heading over now.” In addition to our arsenal of flashy vehicles, we also have a few that we use for surveillance. Catering vans for fake companies, taxis and even a postal truck. No idea how Row got his hands on it, but he did and it’s come in handy many times.
“Let me know when you get here,” I say and end the call. Walking to the window, I pull the curtain back just a little and look out into the night. The street is quiet and still. Like it’s in hibernation. A lone car goes by and a dog barks somewhere nearby. Nothing out of the ordinary. I scan the rows of parked cars on either side of the street, but from this vantage point, I’m not going to be able to see someone even if they’re watching me.
Fuck.
Fifteen minutes later I get a text from Cash that he’s here and ready to take the night shift. I’ll be escorted to work and home and wherever I go. Unseen, of course, but I’ll still know they’re there. Watching whoever is watching me. I’ll continue with my normal activities, of course, because altering them would let whoever’s doing this know I’m scared. I’ll also have to start bringing more weapons with me. I always have at least a knife on me, a small handgun in my briefcase and another in my desk at the office, but now I’ll have to start carrying. That makes things a little difficult, but as Cash said, it’s the price I pay to do what I do.
Part of me feels a little pang of guilt that the other guys have to give up their lives to watch my ass. But I would do the same for them and they know it. I have done the same for them. Many a night my ass has gotten numb from sitting and waiting for something to happen.
I toss the now-useless burner in a plastic bag and I’ll pass it off to Cash tomorrow morning so he can see if there’s something he can get off it. I know there won’t be. Sooner or later it’s going to come down to me versus whoever this is and I’ll have to be ready.
Despite the later hour, I pull out my standing bag and throw myself into a workout. I’ve been slacking lately and I need to be as strong as possible, especially now.
Leo sits on the windowsill, tail swishing back and forth as he watches me batter the bag.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say, wiping sweat out of my eyes.
He doesn’t listen.
I drop the phone in the trashcan outside my place—Cash will pick it up. I walk to the usual spot where I hail a cab and resist the urge to look over my shoulder. I can’t do that. I have to keep my composure.
My arrival at the office is uneventful. Not that I expect someone to jump me, but I have to be prepared for all contingencies. Which is why I have one gun strapped to my side and another to my ankle. Fortunately my suit conceals both. I actually breathed a sigh of relief when I put them on this morning. Like saying hello to old friends I hadn’t seen in a while. They give me added peace of mind. I should probably start going to the shooting range at least once a week. We all should. None of us can get lax or out of practice.
I fall into my usual routine of meeting with clients, doing paperwork and discussing sports with my colleagues at the coffee maker. We have a meeting in the afternoon to discuss the quarterly report. I keep my head down and wait for it to be over. I haven’t heard from Saige and I’m expecting her to at least send me a text today. We can’t seem to go 24 hours without talking to one another. Or at least I can’t go that long without hearing from her.
The meeting finally ends with my boss making a terrible (and sexist) joke that we all have to laugh about. There are only two female executives and they keep their mouths shut but I can feel them seething. I don’t blame them. I can’t wait to get out of this job. This is one of the worst work climates I’ve ever been stuck in. Maybe before I go I’ll tell all the pigs who work here what I really think of them. Burn every last bridge. It would be very satisfying.
When I get back to my office, I do find a text from Saige. A little ripple of pleasure rolls through me and I don’t stop to analyze it.
How are you, Quinn Brand?
I’d love to hear her voice, but I’m assuming she’s probably in class or another place where she can’t take a call.
I’m doing very well. And how are you, Saige Beaumont?
Either she types extremely slowly (which I think is unlikely), or she’s definitely in the middle of something.
Sorry, in class. Should probably be paying attention. I’m fine.
I’m in the middle of typing out another response when another message from her comes through.
So I was wondering what you’re doing this weekend. I know it’s short notice.
Very nice. I’d definitely like to have another date with her, hopefully capped off by more sex. And this time I’d like not to be interrupted.
What did you have in mind?
Well…
Now I’m definitely intrigued.
How do you feel about wearing a tux?
That depends.
I really wish I could hear her voice.
Would you wear one for me? At a friend of my father’s charity event?
I figured. There seems to be one every weekend. Funny that she was asking me to go to one now when I’d already gone to two and hadn’t seen her.
I think that can be arranged.
She doesn’t write back right away, so I set the phone back on my desk and wait. When nothing happens for five minutes, I unfreeze my computer and start working on some emails. A watched phone doesn’t ring.
Sorry again. Okay, great. I’ll text you the details later.
I message back that I’ll await her instructions. This could be good. Might be a good chance to smoke out my stalker. The boys probably won’t be pleased, but they’ll suck it up. I send a mass text giving them a heads up that I’m going to need everyone on board for this weekend.
I expect to get more than a few disgruntled texts back, but I don’t. Interesting. Usually there’s a least a little complaining. Weird.
I called a meeting for the next night so we could talk about my stalker and about how the event was going to go. I was first to arrive at Cash’s and he was sitting at his writing desk.
“I thought you weren’t going to use it. Just admire it.”
“Yes, well. I’m sitting and admiring it.” He runs his hand across the top and then looks up at me. He looks fucking ridiculous, hunched down in the flimsy seat. Like an adult sitting in a kid’s chair.
“Whatever,” I say and head to the office. I definitely need a drink.
Cash follows me.
“What’s up with you lately? You seem perpetually pissed off.” I pop the top of a cold one and glare at him.
“I’m not. And even if I was, I think having this stalker problem entitles me to that.” He puts his hands up in the air like he’s surrendering.
“Fine, fine. I know you’re armed. And I get it. You just seem different lately. I’m just trying to figure out why.” The concern in his expression makes me feel like a dick. There are so few people who care about me and I shouldn’t be acting like an asshole to even one of them.
“I’m sorry. I just feel like there’s a lot going on and I guess I’m not dealing with it that well.” I don’t want to admit this, because not that long ago I’d been bored. Wishing something would happen.
Be careful what you wish for.
Baz arrives next, followed by Track and then Row and Hardy.
“Okay, so we’ve got a stalker on our hands,” I say as everyone sits down.
“Fun, fun,” Cash says, rubbing his hands together. The intensity from minutes before is gone and he’s back to his upbeat self.
“Yeah, for those of you who didn’t get the night shift,” Baz says, pouting a little bit.
“Hey, this is what you signed up for. The job never stops. There are no vacations. You don’t get to sit on a beach in fucking Cancun whenever you’re stressed. This job is your life.” I don’t mean to sound so harsh. I don’t know what’s come over me.
There’s a beat of silence as I finish my little rant. Then Cash clears his throat and starts giving out assignments. I just sip my beer and shut my face.
I really need to get my shit together.
