I tossed the phone onto my desk and rubbed at my face in frustration.
I had my own gut feeling in regard to this. And it wasn’t a good one.
* * *
By Tuesday, I began to relax. There were no other phone calls, no unexpected visitors, and nothing came in the mail. I convinced myself that Jill had seen me, and just to be a bitch, tried my old number, heard my voice and left me a message.
This morning, I asked Sandy to have my home line disconnected. She frowned in displeasure when I asked her politely not to divulge my cell number if anyone called and asked for it.
“Do you think I fell off the turnip truck yesterday, Maddox? It’s standard operating procedure. I would never give that number out, unless I had your permission.” She sniffed, indignant and pissed off.
I sent her flowers to apologize, fumbling with all the information they required for me to place the order since usually Sandy handled that task if needed. I didn’t think I could ask her to send herself flowers, although she would have been more generous than I was with the arrangement. She did kiss my cheek and pat me on the head as if I were a schoolboy when they arrived. Apparently, she had forgiven me.
On Saturday, I had helped Dee arrange the furniture that I’d sent over. We’d ordered in Chinese, eating it on the sofa while watching a movie. I lost myself in her for a few hours, but once again, left her sleeping in her bed to go to my condo and prowl away the hours, unable to sleep except for a nap on the sofa.
Sunday, I made excuses not to attend brunch. Dee came upstairs later, concerned and not convinced when I told her I was catching up on work due to a deadline.
“Aiden and Bentley didn’t say anything about a deadline. They were wondering why you weren’t there as well. We were worried you were ill again.”
“They don’t work with finances. I have different deadlines.”
“Maddox, what is going on? Are you rethinking this?” She flipped her finger between her and me. “Us? We can stop this right now if that’s what you want.”
“No,” I snapped. “We are not stopping anything. You’re overreacting. I had work to do, and that’s all. Leave it.”
She stood, angry. “Fine. I’ll leave you to your work.”
She stalked out and I raced after her, catching her before she reached the door. I spun her around, crowding her against the wall.
“You’re not leaving.”
She pushed on my chest. “Yes, I am.”
“Not before I apologize.” I bent to kiss her, but she turned her face away and my lips landed on her cheek. I nuzzled the skin, dragging my mouth across her skin to her ear.
“Forgive me, Deirdre.” I bit down on her lobe. “Please.”
Her hand rose, pushing on my arm, but the gesture was weak.
I slid my hand under her chin, turning her face. “I apologize.”
“I was worried,” she whispered.
“Good. I like you worried about me.” I captured her mouth, kissing her until her legs gave out and she was clinging to me, her hands gripping my biceps. I swept her into my arms, carried her to my bedroom, and apologized for the next few hours. I made sure she knew how deeply I meant it. Several times.
Aiden appeared in my door, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Hey.”
“Tacos later?”
“Sure.”
“You want to meet us there? Or are you heading home?”
“Van is bringing me some invoices we need to take care of. I’m gonna wait for him, and I’ll head over. Should I call Dee?”
“No, she told Cami she has a meeting after work and she’ll meet us there too.”
“Okay.” I paused, then asked. “Any news on Jack?”
“They found a lead. I’m using Reid for some less conventional searches, and they’re following it up on their end.”
“Okay. Keep me in the loop if you can.”
He left, and I worked until Van arrived. I heard the sounds of his heavy footsteps, the keys jangling from his belt before he walked in. Almost as tall and wide as Aiden, he filled my doorway. He was dressed in denim, his standard uniform, his plaid shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, tight on his arms. I waved him in, and he shook my hand, his grip firm and strong.
“Maddox, thanks for staying.” His eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.
“No problem.”
He handed me a file folder, the cover stained with coffee rings, the corners bent. “These invoices have to be paid before the supplies can be delivered.”
I glanced through the documents. As usual with Van, everything was in order. PO numbers, invoices, job files. All approved by him and signed off by Bentley.
“I’ll take care of the transfers tonight. You’ll have your supplies tomorrow.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Got a gig this week?”
He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “No. I have some coming up, though.”
“Send me the info. We’ll come, have a couple of beers, and listen.” I winked. “Before you get discovered and leave us.”
He shook his head. “Nah. It’s a hobby. I sowed those wild oats years ago. I’m too old for that shit now.”
It was my turn to laugh. At thirty-nine, Van was hardly old. He was a rugged son of a gun, and I knew, a big hit with the women when he played his gigs. He had a headful of dark hair I envied with some grays scattered in, giving him a slightly weathered look they seemed to like. His jaw had a five-o’clock shadow at nine a.m., which got heavier later in the day. He was fast with a smile and flirted shamelessly, but his brown eyes were clear, his attitude forthright, and he was a straight shooter. He was a master carpenter, a Blues man at heart, and he played his guitar the same way he crafted a piece of wood. Silky and smooth. We enjoyed hearing him play.
“You and me both.”
He stood with a snort, towering over me. “You’re still a young pup, Maddox.”
“There’s only a few years between us, Van. You’re hardly an old man.”
His face turned serious. “More than a few, plus I’ve done a lot of living in those years.” His smile returned. “Anyway, I’ll let you know about the next gig.”
I reached out to shake his hand. “We’ll look forward to it.”
“Appreciate that. You’ll, ah, bring your ladies? I’ll reserve you a table.”
I tried not to laugh. Obviously, news traveled fast with the office grapevine.
“We’ll do that for sure.”
He left, and I finished the transfers. I glanced at my watch, but it was still early. I decided I would head to the restaurant, get us a table, and have a beer. I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. I had walked to work this morning, so I went outside to hail a cab. Before I could raise my arm, a voice greeted me.
“Hello, Maddox. Miss me?”
I turned slowly, meeting Jill’s eyes. Cold, void of emotion, icy pools of blue glared at me. I could remember a time I thought her eyes were incredible—the color unique and special. Until the day I realized the icy color reflected her soul.
I drew in a long breath to calm my racing heart. “No, Jill, I haven’t missed you at all. I haven’t given you a second thought, actually. Excuse me, I have someplace to be.”
I began to turn around when she grabbed my arm.
“Not so fast.”
I looked at her hand that was fisting my coat, the red nails like talons gripping the fabric. Grimacing with distaste, I pried her hand off my coat, resisting the urge to wipe off the feel of her skin on the fabric.
“Don’t touch me.”
“That’s not what you used to say.”
Anger began to replace the anxiety, and I crossed my arms.
“What are you doing here, and more importantly, what the fuck do you want?”
She smirked and tossed her hair. It was darker than I remembered, almost black under the streetlights. She was dressed for an evening on the town, her high heels making her almost my height. Her makeup wa
s heavy, her lips a crimson slash in her face.
I’d found her beautiful once. Now I saw the ugliness she hid from the world.
“I’m working here for the next while. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in a restaurant, laughing and enjoying yourself with all your rich friends. I checked you out, Maddox. You’ve done well for yourself.”
I barked out a laugh. “Your opinion of what I have or have not done means nothing to me. Why don’t you crawl back into whatever rathole you came from and leave me alone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I beg your pardon?” I snapped, enunciating each word pointedly. “You have no choice in the matter. I have no interest in seeing you again.”
She gripped my arm once more. “I think you need to come with me, Maddox. You want to hear what I have to say.”
“Nothing you say has any interest to me, Jill.”
Her eyes narrowed, and any pretense of politeness disappeared. “I insist.”
I shook off her grip, not wanting to touch her again. “Insist all you want. It’s not happening.”
I turned to hail a cab when she spoke. “It’s your decision, of course, but either you come with me for a drink, or tomorrow, I’ll be showing up in that fancy office of yours, and I won’t be leaving until you see me. I’ll cause such a scene, you’ll regret it.” She paused and huffed. “Is it worth it to avoid a drink with me? Either way, you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”
I knew Jill and that she wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on her threats. The thought of having to explain her sudden reappearance to Bent and Aiden made me reconsider. I hated scenes, and I had witnessed Jill cause many of them years ago. I glanced across the street at one of the local bars. Being a Tuesday, it wasn’t busy and we rarely went there, so I doubted anyone would recognize me.
Without acknowledging or looking at her, I strode across the street. Her satisfied laughter grated on my already tight nerves. I headed to the farthest corner, not giving her a choice. She followed, sitting beside me at the high table. I frowned and moved to the stool across from her.
She lifted one eyebrow but remained silent. The waitress appeared, chirpy and friendly, asking for our order. I needed a drink.
“Whiskey, neat,” I ordered.
“Dirty martini,” Jill said. “Extra olives.”
“Would you like to see the appetizer menu?”
“No,” I snapped. “We’re not staying long.”
Jill smirked.
We were silent until the drinks appeared. I tossed back the liquor, feeling the burn as it went down, warming my throat. I hated the smug look on Jill’s face, and I decided to cut to the chase. I knew she was enjoying my discomfort, and I was tired of giving her that satisfaction. Plus, I didn’t want to be in her company a moment longer than necessary.
“You have five minutes to say whatever it is you want to say. Then I’m leaving. I don’t care what you do to get my attention. I don’t give much of a fuck.”
“So rude.”
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “What do you want, Jill?”
She took a drink of her martini, sliding an olive from the skewer and popping it into her mouth. Even in the muted light, I could see the years hadn’t been kind to her. She looked harsh and older than I knew her to be. Her skillful makeup and dyed hair didn’t hide that fact.
“I studied voice and drama at university, you remember? I always wanted to be a star.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t care about her life’s aspirations.
“I managed to get some roles, small ones, and I’ve spent the past few years traveling with different companies. Sadly, no matter what I have done, I’ve never made it much past the ensemble. I had the understudy roles a couple of times, but I never got to play the lead role and get my break.”
I snorted. “I can imagine what you’ve ‘done’ to get the roles.”
She ignored me. “I’m tired of traveling. Of being invisible—one of the swing. I hate struggling to make ends meet and not having a place of my own. I’ve decided to give up the touring shows and settle down.” She slid another olive into her mouth, her smile pure evil. “And I’ve decided you’re going to help me do that.”
I gaped at her as if she were insane.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
She reached into her purse, pulling out a small envelope. She slid it toward me. I stared at it, my stomach clenching with anxiety. Carefully, as if it would bite, I wrapped my hand around it and dragged it toward me.
I lifted the flap and let the contents slide onto the table. Pictures. Six in total. I lifted them, surprised to see my hand wasn’t shaking, and gazed at the images.
They weren’t a revelation or a shock. I had known before I opened the envelope—known that somehow, she had returned to force me to relive that darkness. The images were my greatest moment of shame, the ones burned into my memory, captured on film. Brought to life with a burning intensity that made me feel ill.
I was motionless. She laughed, the sound jarring me back to the moment.
My head snapped up. “Where did you get these?”
“Oh, Maddox.” She shook her head, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. “You used to tell me I never planned things out, I was never prepared. I think I proved you wrong.” She tapped the photos. “I checked you out. Quiet, boring Maddox, who planned to be an accountant. How things changed for you.”
“I am an accountant.”
“No, you’re a partner in one of the biggest companies in the city. Such prestige. Glowing articles of the three friends who built their company from the ground up and kept their friendship—squeaky-clean images, real do-gooders, all of you. Wouldn’t it be a shame if something happened and that reputation was tarnished? I wonder how long the friendship would last if one of you destroyed everything you all worked so hard to create?”
Ice-cold fury raced through me. It was all I could do not to launch myself across the table and strangle her. Dropping the photos upside down on the table, I curled my hands into fists on my knees and struggled for control.
“What do you want?” I spat out.
She tapped her chin with a dark smile. “I want a house in a place of my choosing. And five hundred grand.” She ate another olive. “To start.”
She drained her martini and slid off her seat. “Once we agree to that, we’ll figure out a yearly fee. I don’t want to work anymore, and I want to enjoy life.”
I barked a laugh. “I think you have me confused with a billionaire. I’m not rolling in it.”
“I think you can afford me.”
I called her bluff. “Why would I do that?”
“I may not be a star, Maddox, but I know a lot of reporters. They’d be happy to run the story I tell them about us.” She pushed the pictures in my direction. “About you.”
“It would be a lie.”
She laughed, the sound sending a shudder down my spine. “Not according to the pictures I have.”
She reached over and arranged the pictures into a neat pile, sliding them into the envelope. She laid a business card on top, tapping it with her red talon. “I’m staying in a hotel. I move around a lot, so I don’t have a place. This is my email and cell number.”
She smiled, bright and cold. I flinched when she tapped my cheek.
“I know this is a shock for you. I’ll give you some time to think. You have a week to get in touch with me, or I go to the papers and bring your life crashing down around you.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why are you doing this, Jill?”
She leaned close, her fake smile gone and the hatred screaming out of her eyes.
“You called me names. Degraded me. Dumped me. All because I tried to show you what you could be. A real man—not the weak imitation of one you are.”
“You were the one who degraded me,” I spat out through tight lips.
I started at the feel of her lips dragging across my cheek.
“No
t when I tell the story, Maddox.” She tapped the envelope. “This time, I call the shots.”
She stepped back, smirking. “A week. Since you disconnected your phone, you had better call me, or I’ll be at your office.”
She turned and walked away.
Maddox
I heard Dee’s quiet knock, but I ignored it. The same way I ignored the texts and calls from Aiden and Bentley. Earlier, I had fired off a fast text saying something had come up and I couldn’t join them for tacos. I had no idea what else to say.
After I left the bar and took a cab home, I stumbled upstairs and grabbed the closest bottle of whiskey. I didn’t care how expensive it was or the fact that it was meant to be savored. I needed it to stop the barrage of thoughts and memories in my head. I took a hot shower, keeping the bottle in my hand and letting the water wash away the feel of her touch and the smell of her in my nose. I wished I could wash away everything else.
The knock sounded again, but I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I could. I had drunk a lot, and I didn’t want to see anyone. In front of me were the pictures spread out on the wooden floor like a bad advertising graphic.
Me, my face cold, determined. My pupils so wide, my eyes were black in my face.
Jill on her knees, tied up, tears coursing down her face.
A whip in my hand. Blood dripping from a mark on her shoulder.
My hand bunched in her hair, a snarl on my face as I screamed at her.
My erection, hard and evident behind the jeans riding low on my hips.
The last one, of me driving into her from behind. Welts on her back, her face obscured from the camera, sweat dripping from my skin.
They told a sordid story. One of pain and sex. Jill dominated, me in control.
The pictures lied, because it was the exact opposite.
But that wasn’t the story the world would hear—or see.
I bent forward, squinting as I looked at the pictures. I tasted regret. Felt shame. Allowed the anger to emerge. I tightened my grip on the bottle I still clutched even though it was empty.
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