CHAPTER EIGHT
Miles was getting really worried. He’d sent more texts than he could count and left an endless stream of voice messages until he was now being told by that irritating voice that the voicemail was full.
He glanced at his watch. Okay, maybe it was a little too early, but he was getting really worried. Becca should have arrived home last night, and he was certain she wouldn’t mind an early morning visit. Especially given the circumstances. This disappearing act wasn’t like Ivy at all. Something was wrong.
He couldn’t believe it had been two days. She wouldn’t just up and vanish, not without leaving word, not without letting him know. When Becca did something like this it was expected, but not Ivy. Ivy was the sensible one. She didn’t even go on a day trip without someone knowing how and where to find her. He couldn’t understand it. She’d told him to meet her, and he’d not heard from her since.
He knocked on the door. If not for the seriousness of the situation he may have laughed at the dishevelled figure who greeted him at the door. Her red and purple hair stuck out in all directions, telling tales of her being not only being dragged from her bed, but of her crawling into it without fully getting undressed.
Her long, fashionably holey cardigan hung off her shoulders, secured around her by a tie belt that didn’t quite conceal her boyshorts. Her fingers gripped the door, displaying flaked nail varnish that had been picked down to cuticles, suggesting she must have got back really late if she’d not had time to remove it on her return.
“Miles, the fuck are you doing here.” Her hands were on her hips as she glared at him in challenge, blocking his entrance with her typical, don’t mess with me, expression.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine. Would you rather I was somewhere else?” Throwing her hands up in the air and muttering something that sounded like a curse, Becca opened her door, stepping aside so he could enter as she gestured impatiently.
He’d been to Becca’s so often he no longer even blinked at the numerous mannequins and overburdened clothes rails that seemed to fill every available space, or the discarded sketches that blanketed the floor like a carpet.
Becca’s house was more of a work studio than an apartment, which was one of the reasons she was looking for a piece of real estate she could both live and sell from without all the clutter. Her savings, or her trust fund, could have brought her something larger a long time ago, but she knew exactly what she was looking for and wasn’t going to settle for anything less, until then she didn’t see the point in moving.
“Of course I’d rather you were somewhere else. Why aren’t you with Vee?” Her hands were back to her hips, as she glared at him in challenge. Why did he feel like he’d done something wrong, unforgivable even?
“That’s why I’m here, I don’t know where she is.”
“The hell you don’t.”
“Seriously, Bex, she sent me a message saying she hoped to see me Tuesday. I went over. Her flat was empty, and she’d moved her boxes here. I can’t get hold of her and—”
“You’re serious?” Concern knitted her brow. The effect of the light shimmering across her countless piercings was almost mesmerising. He swore there was a new one, he just couldn’t pinpoint where.
“Bex, I’m really worried.”
“You better read that.” Becca fell back into her soft armchair, placing her bare feet on the table, gesturing towards an envelope with her brightly painted toenails. “Read it,” she snapped.
His eyes on hers, he leaned forward warily, grasping the letter and moving to take a seat in the other armchair, being careful not to rumple the electric-blue fabric draped across its side.
Becca,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I have left a few of my things here. I hope that’s okay. One way or another it shouldn’t be for too long. I’ve been offered an interview in the Bahamas and my tenancy is up, so I was at a loose end.
So much has happened and I swear I’ll call to fill you in. The long and short of it, I lost my job and the apartment, Dad’s insurance called to say there’s going to be a further delay on payment, and my bank balance is now teetering on non-existent. On top of that, Tails and me almost kissed, so close, I’m talking, one more second and I wouldn’t have known my own name, close, and he asked me to move in with him until I get myself sorted. Like you say, life is full of sweet and the sour, because then I found out he was engaged.
So, I know it was wrong, but I did something a little foolish. The place that’s interviewing me (I say interviewing, but they said it was just a case of filling in the necessary paperwork.) actually offered me a week on site to see if I like the place before I commit to relocating. It seems too good to be true; I need a job and a roof over my head and they’re offering me both. I mean, I can’t move in with Tails if he’s engaged, right? It’d be wrong, right?
Well, here’s the thing, I brought him a ticket for my flight on Tuesday. Yeah, I know it’s wrong, especially since his mother was so gleeful when she dropped the photos of him and his fiance off personally. (If I say this woman of his looks like Streetwalker Barbie, does that sound too bitter and mean?)
Honestly, I’m not sure what the deal with them is, but the almost kiss we shared before he left moved my world. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t ask if there could be something more between us, so that’s what I did.
I sent him a letter telling him if he thinks we could be more he should join me on the plane. I even enclosed a ticket. The letter was signed for, so now it’s just a case of waiting for my flight to know his answer. I thought it would be easier for him this way. He either turns up or he doesn’t, and it avoids an awkward conversation. Yes, yes, I can practically see you rolling your eyes from here.
If he doesn’t come at least I’ll know he’s happy, and I promise to try not to call her Streetwalker Barbie, to her face anyway. But seriously, you should have seen the pictures.
Since I’m stuck in limbo between now and my dad’s estate being settled, this job may be my only hope, so if he doesn’t come I’ll be taking it. Who knows, it could work out for the best. I’ll be happy for him if he chooses her, but it may take me a while to get there so either way this is a perfect opportunity, right?
Sorry I won’t be here when you get back and I’m telling you all this in a letter. But I’ll ring as soon as I can. I can’t wait to hear all about where you’ve been and your new inspirations. I’ll put your key in an envelope in your mailbox after I’ve locked up.
You know I love you. Sorry about the boxes.
We’ll talk soon.
Vee x
“Fuck.” Miles was on his feet with such force it sent the fabric he’d been so careful not to disturb cascading towards the floor, its silken sheen shimmering like a waterfall until it pooled at the side of the sofa. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling, fisting his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Has she called you, where is she?” His phone was in his hand, pulling up the airways to find the next flight out. There were several leaving to the Bahamas, getting there wasn’t a problem, finding her, however, would be.
“She’s not phoned. I sent her a message when I got back to say it was no big deal about the boxes, but she never got back to me. I kinda figured the two of you were finally getting together. So I take it you didn’t know.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Fuck.” If he’d have known he would have been on that plane in a heartbeat. He would have been there before they even started boarding. Hell, he would have waited for eight hours at the airport just to make sure he was there. Fuck. No wonder she hadn’t messaged him back. Damn it all.
“So who is she?” Becca’s hands were smoothing through her wig, pushing it back into some semblance of order. He wasn’t sure why she was bothering, they both knew she never wore the same one two days in a row.
“Who?” He shook his head. The flights were all useless without a final destination. He needed the letter she sent, and he had a good idea who had inte
rcepted it. There was only one person in their household who would have made sure he didn’t get her mail. Knowing who it was from wouldn’t have been hard. There was only one person who wrote to him using decorative stationary, and his mother damn well knew it. She’d seen her letters before.
“Streetwalker Barbie, your fiancé?”
“She’s got to mean Bay Legends.” He wanted to smile at the new moniker which fit her perfectly, but he couldn’t, not when his gut was tied in knots. “That’s where I was this last week. Working.”
“You still haven’t told her what you do, have you?” Becca rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on her homemade light shades for a moment longer than necessary, just to make sure he’d seen her disapproving gesture.
“I told her I do contract work, she teases me about assassinations. It was kinda our thing. Besides, she knows nothing about my father’s business, it’s not like my parents were happy we were friends. I thought the less she knew about them, the easier it would be.
“Sin’s always liked us for who we are. Our parents never mattered, and I guess I wanted to keep it that way. You’ve seen how awkward she gets around people who have money, even if for all intents and purpose she is one. Now, do you have any idea where she is?”
“None, but I’ll let you know the moment I hear from her. Maybe you can finally sort your shit out, stop pussy-footing around one another and just get straight to the pussy. God knows you both need a good—”
“Right,” he interrupted. He’d been in the army long enough to have heard everything, but sometimes Becca’s bluntness still caught him off guard. She’d always been the same, since she first grew into her opinions. She’d never taken any nonsense from anyone. “In the meantime, it seems I have to have a talk with my mother. Maybe there’s something in the letter she sent me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going after her.” His phone buzzed and was in his hand before he had time to think, hoping it was Ivy. He read the message from his father. “Looks like I’ve got to go, Dad needs me back A.S.A.P. Let me know the moment she calls. There’s seven-hundred islands there I don’t think pin the tail on the donkey is going to help me.”
The moment Miles closed the door his father came in from the sitting room, where he must have been waiting, and he knew instantly something was wrong.
It wasn’t often he saw his father in his gym gear around the house, usually his mother made him change and shower before leaving the gym room. Heaven forbid he dripped sweat onto their carpet. The fact he stood there now in his shorts and sweat soaked t-shirt meant whatever his father had messaged him about was serious, something further confirmed by the sharp set of his jaw.
Jordon Taylor was built very much like his son, with the same broad shoulders and a physique sculpted from his own years in service and maintained through his rigorous exercise regime. They shared the same brown eyes and Miles knew all too well the weighted look of concern they held.
“Miles, we need to talk.” He felt his brow furrow. Whatever his father wanted was serious, he’d never seen him looking quite so dishevelled. He gestured towards the sitting room and waited for him to sit. The slightly oily texture of the leather arm beneath his fingers told him his mother had recently had it treated, which explained the throw he found himself sitting on. “It’s about your friend, Ivy Sinclair.” The shadow in his eyes as he mentioned her name told him he was not going to like whatever he had to say.
“What about her?”
“When you said she was good at her job, were you assuming or—”
“She was amazing at her job. She did her job and two other people’s, took it from logging to completion, including raising purchase orders. I never told her this, but I am sure that her ability to handle the workload was why they never replaced the staff.
“I’ve seen her annual performance reviews, they’re nothing short of amazing. She didn’t just hit targets, she left them on the horizon and—” He saw his father scratch his ear and heat rose in his stomach. His father was a great man, he could talk the talk, but he couldn’t play poker if his life depended on it. For those who knew him, his tells were too noticeable, this was bad. “Why?”
“I said I’d ask some of my contacts about jobs. She must have really pissed someone off. She’s been blacklisted.”
“What?” Miles pushed himself to his feet. “You can’t be serious?”
“Let’s not beat around the bush. Was she sleeping with her boss?”
“No way. She’s not like that, she hasn’t even been in a relationship for the last two years.” Since she almost kissed me before my last tours, he added silently. He remembered that day well. It had been one of those rare occasions she couldn’t get the time off work, she’d spent her off days with him, and then called in sick so she could see him off.
He still remembered how their fingers had brushed as she handed him another care package. She had stood staring in his eyes for longer than normal, and when she leaned in, for a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him, for a moment his mind betrayed him, reminding him of the pictures she’d sent and he’d almost shortened the distance himself. But then her arms wrapped around him and she’d kissed his cheek, telling him to come home safe.
His leave that time had been different. Even though he’d only spent two days with her he’d noticed things about her that his mind had never registered, like the way she touched his arm when he made her laugh, and how her eyes would follow him across the room, and how they’d shine when she was telling him about the latest game she was playing.
She loved the old school RPGs, and yet whenever he came over they’d spend hours on her sofa playing things like Resident Evil, Skyrim, Kuon, Alone in the Dark, God of War, you name it, they played it, sharing the controller. He remembered laughing when she’d opened one of the doors in Resident Evil and squealed, dropping the controller pulling her legs on the sofa as a horde of zombies came ambling inside, even though she’d played the game before and knew full well it was going to happen.
Okay, maybe it hadn’t helped that he’d shouted and grabbed her at the same time, but it gave him the chance to snatch the controller from the floor, saving their sorry ass while she squealed run, run. He realised how much he loved watching her play, how she invested herself in everything she did. It was one of the reasons she was so good at her job; she gave it her all. There was no reason anyone would want to blacklist her.
“I thought as much, so I did a little digging. Turns out the company she worked for received a cash injection and a new lease agreement on the day they let her go.”
“Okay?” he questioned suspiciously, not liking what he was hearing.
“Reduced rates for three years, and a few million added to department resources. We’re talking serious money. Turns out the same enterprise who owns that building also purchased her apartment block. I did a little checking, planning permission was granted to convert to condos, but no one else has heard anything about it. She seems to have been the only one to receive notice.”
“What are you saying exactly?” Miles knew full well what he was saying. What his father said about the condos made sense now he thought about it. Mrs Williams hadn’t mentioned it at all, and Carlos hadn’t known of any immediate plans. They’d both been surprised to see her go. Why hadn’t he thought to question it sooner? Things were falling into place, and he didn’t like how they were landing.
“I’m saying someone is targeting your friend.”
“Someone wanted her jobless and homeless, why?”
“Revenge, a jilted lover, who knows? But whoever is behind it is big, they have money to hide behind corporations. Moving her here is probably the best idea you’ve had, the sooner the better.” Just then his mother made an appearance, freezing as Miles levelled a glare towards her. If someone had been targeting Ivy, their game may not have stopped at her job and home. And there was only one woman he knew who’d ever had anything bad to say about Ivy.
&nbs
p; “Was it you? Where is it?” he growled.
“What?”
“Did you do this to Ivy? Where’s the letter she sent me?” He could feel his blood beginning to heat, causing an angry blush to burn across his cheeks. He already knew his mother had been to visit her, he had no time for her games.
“What letter?” she shook her head, her perfectly fixed hair retaining its form as she gave him the best innocent look she could muster. But guilt was gnawing behind her eyes. His mother couldn’t have done this, could she? She certainly knew people in the right places, but why would she make Ivy lose everything? Unless it was to make sure she moved away.
“Don’t play dumb. Ivy sent me a letter after you visited her and told her I was engaged.” Miles saw her father’s vision snap to his mother, his nostrils flaring.
“Does it matter?”
“You don’t get it. This is my life, I choose my friends, not you. Why did you do it?”
“Evelyn, give the boy his mail. What on Earth possessed you to interfere?” Miles had never heard his father address his mother in such a harsh tone. She visibly flinched, all too aware of the anger radiating from both of them.
“I just wanted her away from him.”
“So you made sure she lost her job and her apartment?” Miles growled.
“What? No. I was told if I gave her the pictures she’d be out of our lives for good.” She patted her hair, trying to avoid his heavy stare.
For good? His blood turned to ice in his veins and he swore for the briefest moment, as the world drained of colour, his heart stalled. This did not bode well.
“Someone asked you to do that?” His father’s voice echoed around his mind as Miles tried to recover. “You’re far from naïve, did you not stop to think what that could mean?” His father must have left at some point, because he was now pushing a glass of neat bourbon in Miles’ hand. He looked at the glass, knocking it back.
Breaking Sin: A kidnap abduction story (Addicted to Sin Book 1) Page 11