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His Page 18

by Brenda Rothert


  I wrap my arms around him and pull him down onto me.

  “Shit,” he says, breathing heavily, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t say that. Just tell me again that you love me.”

  He leans up so his face is right over mine. “I love you, Quinn. Come back to me. I’ll protect you and Bethy from anyone who tries to hurt you.”

  He kisses me so softly, and sweet tears are burning my eyes when he pulls away.

  He gets up to go to the bathroom, and I go right after him. When I get back to bed, he’s sitting on the edge, still naked, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “You okay?” I ask, climbing across the bed to hug him from behind.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  I slide out from behind him, and he reaches over to switch on the bedside lamp.

  “Is this an under or over the covers kind of thing?” I ask.

  “Over, unfortunately.”

  He picks up his boxer briefs from the floor and pulls them on. I sit in bed and pull the covers up to my chest.

  Andrew exhales deeply, hands on his hips, then sits down on the end of the bed so we’re facing each other.

  “I told you my dad died in 9/11,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “You might say I never got over it.”

  “I don’t think anyone should expect you to.”

  “No, I mean . . .” He pauses. “Okay, so after Dad died and it was me and Mom, I had a lot of anger built up. I channeled it into schoolwork, sports, and learning about computers. Computers started as a hobby but became almost an obsession by the time I was in high school. By then, I was already thinking about the possibilities. I went to MIT and NYU because I needed both computer science and business. Couldn’t fund the computer projects I wanted to do without being successful in business to make the money for it.”

  “What stuff?”

  “What I’m about to tell you, very few people know. Very, very few. I’ve signed a contract agreeing to only tell my spouse if I get married and no one else. But I need you to know.”

  His expression is serious. I nod my understanding.

  “Four years ago, I joined with five other partners to start . . . an enterprise. We all provide an equal financial buy-in. The work we do, it’s all based up on the second floor of the warehouse. And what we do is . . .” He clears his throat. “Well, it’s several things, actually. It begins with hacking of terrorist communications.”

  “Terrorists?” I can’t hide my surprise.

  “Yes. We monitor their communications and pretty much lay in wait until we’re ready with an op, and then we intercept communications, pretending to be the terrorists they’re communicating with. We set up a meet and then infiltrate it.”

  “Infiltrate, meaning . . . ?”

  “Whatever is the most damage we can do. We blow up supplies and command locations, take out key people, expose their operations to their enemies.”

  I swallow hard, trying to take it all in. My buttoned-up businessman, blowing up terrorists? I can’t even process it at first.

  “When you say ‘we,’ are you actually there doing the blowing up? Is that where you were when you said you were in Hong Kong?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I was in Hong Kong. I’m almost always doing my actual work. I’ve been on operations before, but it’s not a good idea as a rule of thumb. Mostly we use ex-military guys for them, and they’re better suited.”

  I take a deep breath. “So, they’re upstairs? Right now?”

  “Right now. This is how I got your purse back. I wrote a facial scanning program that’s like nothing on the market, but it was for the guys upstairs. I’d never share that technology with the private or public sector. It’s how we can keep eyes on so many of those assfucks at once. I had them track the number on the debit card I gave you and then hack into the places those guys who attacked you used it. I went to one of their houses and . . . you know.”

  “You hurt them, I hope?”

  “Hell yeah, I hurt ’em. One of ’em punched me back, though. I broke his nose for it.”

  I cringe. “I can’t believe I accused you of setting it up.”

  “Hey, we’re past all that. I didn’t want to put you in danger by telling you. But I felt like I needed you to know everything about me before you leave. And also that I can protect you from whatever danger you’re facing, Quinn. I have resources in the highest levels of government, as well as private sector ones who don’t have to adhere to any rules.”

  “This is a lot to take in,” I say.

  “I know. But I don’t want you to leave here with questions about me. This is why I have so much security. The guys upstairs are in as much danger as those of us who fund them. I have to provide a completely secure place for them.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “No one will track any calls coming in or out of this place, ever. I have cloaking software that beats anything law enforcement has access to. Please take your phone, even if you leave it turned off.”

  “I will.” I nod. “And this is how you got my Susanna paperwork?”

  “Yes. I can get a new identity for Bethy, too. We can all start over together if you want. Leave this place behind, even. Maybe move to Paris or London. I can start a business there.”

  My heart is pounding hopefully. “You mean that?”

  “Of course, I do. You’re my everything, Quinn. Even though it’s only been a couple months, I know.”

  “I know, too,” I say, my voice breaking.

  He exhales deeply. “I just needed you to know everything. We only take out the worst of the worst. People like the ones who killed my father.”

  “I don’t judge that. I actually admire it. I learned firsthand that there are evil people in the world.”

  His brow is still creased with worry. “There’s one more thing I want you to know.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t used to be a guy who paid for sex. Just the idea of it turned me off. But about a year ago a woman I’d slept with said she was pregnant with my child.”

  I feel a deep, sick churning in my stomach. “Oh, God. You have a baby?”

  “No.” He says it emphatically, his eyes wide. “I made her get a paternity test after she delivered the baby. It wasn’t mine. But after that I took control and only slept with women I could force to be on birth control. So that’s . . .”

  I give him a wry smile. “The story we can one day tell our grandkids about how we met.”

  He laughs and shakes his head, then turns serious again. “I put an envelope of cash in your purse. If you run into any problems, I mean anything at all, you call me.”

  “I will.”

  He switches off the light beside the bed and climbs in beside me. When he pulls me to him, I breathe in his scent and know for sure we’ll be together again. Just the thought of the nights ahead without him tear at my heart. I could never let him go forever.

  When I wake up in the morning, Andrew is sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed for work in a dark suit. I slept through him getting up for his workout and showering.

  “Roy will take you as far as you want him to,” he says, not looking at me. “You should let him take you all the way.”

  “I can’t do that,” I say softly. “If it were just me, I would, but I don’t take chances with my sister.”

  He nods, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’d take you as far as you want to go, but . . . I just can’t.”

  I move toward him and wrap my arms around him from behind. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  I can’t say good-bye to him while I’m naked. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, then to the closet where I dress in jeans and an NYU sweatshirt.

  Andrew’s standing by the bed when I return. I go to him, and he pulls me into his arms, neither of us saying a word for a full minute.

  When I speak, it’s hard to get past the lump in my throat. “No matter what happens, please kno
w . . . I want to come back. I want to be with you.”

  He tightens his hold on me, and we stay like that for another minute. When he pulls away, he still won’t look at me.

  “Call me,” he says. “I love you.”

  And with that, he leaves the room. I miss him already.

  Quinn

  I’ve been traveling for three full days. Considering it’s been more than four years since I’ve driven a car, I think I’ve done pretty well.

  Roy drove me out of the city, and then I hitched a ride out of New York State with a truck driver. I found a sedan at a Pennsylvania used car lot with a price of $2,000 painted on the windshield and paid the owner of the lot $3,000 to let me take it without any paperwork. He gave me a set of valid plates but told me he’d report the car stolen in a month if I don’t bring it back by then.

  Then I drove for two long days to get to the border. I stopped at a motel to sleep for a night and I wanted to call Andrew so much it hurt, but I didn’t. I brought my phone but plan to leave the power off. Worrying that his phone might be tapped is irrational, but I’ve had to be a little irrational to make it this far since leaving home.

  I use the Susanna Hopkins paperwork Andrew gave me to cross the border, holding my breath the entire time. So many things could go wrong. If I get caught, I’ll be giving away Bethy’s location.

  But the guards seem unfazed as they approve my passage. I don’t breathe easy until I’m another few miles down the road, though. I’d like to keep going now that I’m in the same country as Bethy, but it’s the end of the second day, and after fifteen hours of driving, I’m beat.

  I’m able to get a room for the night with American money, and I crash as soon my head hits the pillow. The next day I set off early, exchanging some of the cash Andrew gave me for pesos. Without the $10,000 he gave me, this trip would have been near impossible. I’ve already sent Bean the other money I had.

  Barra de Potosi is reachable in one long day of driving. I have to navigate with paper maps, which isn’t easy.

  Finally, I reach the sleepy town, but then I can’t find the apartment. I have to stop several times and show people the paper I have the address written on. They try to give me directions, but the language barrier makes it hard for me to figure out what they’re saying.

  It takes me nearly an hour, but I finally think I’ve found the place when the sun is starting to set. The teenage boy who led me here assured me it was the right spot, and I gave him a handful of money.

  I knock on the door, my heart pounding anxiously. When Bethy opens it and sees me, she bursts into tears.

  “Quinn!” She throws herself at me and holds on as tight as Andrew did the morning I left.

  I hug her back, squeezing my eyes closed to fight back the tears.

  “How are you here?” she asks incredulously.

  “I drove.”

  “From New York?”

  “Yes.”

  She steps aside and pulls me in by the arm. “You must be exhausted. Get in here.”

  I’m taken aback when I step inside the cramped apartment. Cramped is too generous a word for it. The living room and kitchen area are less than a hundred square feet total. The closets in Andrew’s warehouse are bigger than this place.

  There’s a threadbare couch, and the walls are empty. It’s clean but depressing.

  “I know it’s not much,” Bethy says, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously.

  “How are you?” I turn to her and take both her hands in mine. “I mean, how are you, really? I read between the lines of your last letter, and I’m worried.”

  Tears glisten in her eyes. “I’m great. Everything here is good.”

  “Don’t lie to me. We don’t lie to each other, Bethy.”

  She blinks and tears slide down her cheeks. “It’s . . . kind of awful. I’m lonely. But I’m okay. I’m okay, Quinn. I know you want me to be here where I’m safe, and I understand that.”

  “No. I don’t want you unhappy. We have other options now.”

  “We do?” Her expression lights up hopefully.

  I nod. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  She throws her arms around me and cries some more.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” she says softly.

  “Me too. I’ve missed you so much.”

  When she pulls away, she wipes her cheeks with her fingertips and walks a few feet to the stove.

  “How about some soup?” she asks. “It’s probably not the best soup ever, but it’s decent.”

  “I’d love some.”

  She dips a coffee cup into the kettle and fills a bowl for me.

  “So is Maria gone for the day?” I ask.

  “She stopped coming about ten days ago.”

  “Why? I thought she was tutoring you.”

  Bethy shrugs. “She was, but Bean stopped paying her. She had to get another job.”

  I close my eyes for a few seconds. I am pissed. Bean had more than enough money to work with, and he’s clearly not using it to take care of Bethy.

  The soup is water, spices, and chunks of fish. It’s awful, but I eat it because Bethy ate some before I got here. This is what she’s been living like while I’ve been having delicious food prepared by Turner every night. Andrew’s fridge is always stocked with fresh produce, yogurt, cheese, and other snacks. Bethy’s fridge is pretty much empty, and it doesn’t even keep what little is inside it cold.

  “I want to see your room,” I tell her.

  I see a slight cringe as she leads the way. It hardly has enough space for the bare mattress on the floor, and there’s a cord strung between two walls with Bethy’s clothes hanging from it.

  “At least I’m warm,” she says. “And safe.”

  I just nod. Inside, I’m fuming. Twenty thousand dollars and this is how they’re living. I wonder where the money’s actually going.

  “Let’s go walk on the beach,” Bethy says.

  “When will Bean be back?”

  “Usually, he doesn’t get here for another couple hours.”

  It’s only a couple blocks to the soft white sandy beach. Even though the sun is down, I can tell this is a beautiful place. The sound of lapping water and the salty smell in the air make me feel rejuvenated. I’m so glad I listened to my gut and came here.

  “Tell me about Andrew,” Bethy says as we walk arm in arm.

  I smile. “He’s a hard man to know, but now that I’ve gotten closer to him . . . I’m in love.”

  She squeezes my arm with excitement. “Really? Oh, Quinn. You deserve it.”

  “He’s very protective. So handsome. Supersmart. A little impatient. Generous. Sweet.”

  “I’m swooning here.”

  I bump my shoulder against hers playfully. “This is what I get for raising you on romance novels.”

  “He sounds like Mr. Darcy.”

  Her statement makes me laugh. “You know, there is some resemblance.”

  “Did you allow him to tell you how ardently he admires you?”

  “Oh, most definitely. He wanted to come here with me, actually.”

  “Why didn’t you bring him?”

  I look out at the dark ocean waves. “I just wanted to do this myself. I still worry about us being found.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “Do you miss home?”

  She says nothing for a few seconds. “I miss some things, but I think we were right to leave.”

  “Do you really? Do you feel that in your heart?”

  “I do. We both know what would have happened if we’d stayed.”

  I stop and sit down on the beach, taking off my shoes and squishing my toes into the sand. Bethy sits down beside me.

  “You know,” I say, “I used to keep things from you to protect you. When we were in New York. It was never anything big, really. I just never let on how scared I really was. But I think it’s time we agree that we’ll share everything with each other. Even the scary, ugly stuff.”

  “I pro
mise.”

  “Me too.” We sit in silence for a few seconds. “Andrew’s willing to take us to another country to live. I imagine he’d need some time to get his business stuff in order, but . . . it’s an idea.”

  “I’d love that,” Bethy says softly. “I’d live with you guys?”

  “Yes. I think you and I will go to another country from here, and then I’ll contact him. It’s best if no one knows where we are or where we’re going.”

  “What about Bean?”

  “He’s not coming.”

  She sighs softly. “I think we should go get our stuff and leave before he gets back. He’ll be mad if we tell him.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  We dust the sand off our clothes and head back. Much as I’d like to confront Bean about the money, I know Bethy is right. What really matters is getting her out of here safely.

  When we walk back into the apartment, though, Bean is there. As soon as he sees me, his expression morphs into disbelief.

  “Quinn?” He grins and jumps up from the rickety kitchen table he’s eating at. “You came back.”

  He embraces me, and I immediately smell alcohol on him.

  “You’ve been drinking,” I say flatly.

  He steps back, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, I have a drink at the end of a long workday. What’s it matter?”

  I feel Bethy tensing beside me. We just need to go, I remind myself. The money doesn’t matter.

  “Bean, I can’t thank you enough for taking care of Bethy. I just missed her too much, so I came here to get her.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You’re leaving?”

  “Things are going well for me in New York. I’m staying there.”

  Bean lunges toward me, forcing me to step back.

  “You still want to be that rich guy’s whore? What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been here waiting and taking care of Bethy, and now you’re just gonna ditch out?”

  “I’m sure you’ve still got some of the money left,” I say. “Keep it.”

  He shakes his head and stalks closer to me, forcing me against the wall. “No fucking way. $60K. That was the deal.”

 

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