“I don’t care who you are,” Mathew’s voice boomed outside James’s office door. “Mr. West won’t see you without an appointment.”
The urgency in Mathew’s normally calm voice tightened James’s back. When a woman’s snarl cut through the air, he tried unsuccessfully to identify the voice.
“Unless your boss wants me telling everyone what he doesn’t want them to know, he’d better let me in. Because I doubt he wants his secret out.”
He heard Mathew laugh a bit then fall serious. “Mr. West doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. He doesn’t bend to threats. If you knew him, you’d try a different tactic.”
“Oh, I think if you tell him I’m a friend of Liberty Saint-Jane, he might just bend to my threat, because he’ll know I’m serious.”
With that James flew to his feet and crossed his office quickly. “Let her in,” he barked, ushering the woman through the door and into a chair. Her black hair was bluntly bobbed with sharp-edged bangs. Eyeliner flew away from the corners of her brown eyes, making them look like they’d sprouted wings. A baggy asymmetrical trendy sweater and jeans that had been ripped to shreds made her look like a child.
After a quick assessment he waved Mathew off. “I’m good. Just clear the next half hour off my schedule.”
“But,” Mathew protested, looking both annoyed and now worried, “I can have security escort her out. Actually, she’s all of a hundred fifteen pounds; I’ll get her out of here myself.”
“It’s fine,” James said, not looking up at Mathew again. His eyes were fixed on this mystery woman who claimed a friendship with Libby. When the office door closed he laced his fingers together, leaned his elbows on his desk, and stared at her.
She didn’t look afraid. Not rattled in any way. Her eyes were blazing with a determination that made him wonder if she were insane. Crazy eyes, he and Mathew would have called them if they were all sitting around in a bar.
“You’re a friend of Libby’s?” he asked coolly, never taking his eyes off her fierce stare.
“Don’t ask me questions. I’m not here to be buddies.”
“Why are you here?”
“That’s another question. I’ll ask the questions.” She, unlike Libby, was not putting on an act of forced strength and confidence. This woman was like an angry protestor determined to tie herself to a tree and face a bulldozer. The problem was, he wasn’t sure why.
“Do you love Libby?” she asked, leaning in and firmly planting a hand on his desk. “Was it more than just sex for you?”
“That’s personal,” he cut back quickly. “I’m not going to share that with you if you aren’t going to tell me what this is about.”
“Answer me,” she said, raising her hand up and slamming it on the desk again. “This isn’t a game. It’s serious. Life or death.”
“Life or death? Is Libby in trouble, or did you just threaten to kill me?”
“Which one of those two would make you answer me?”
“The first,” he replied sternly, now worried that this might be more serious than he originally expected. “The second will get a completely different response. Not one you’ll like.”
“Then you do love her, or did, or whatever the closest thing to love a man like you can feel.”
“A man like me? We’ve never even met. How do you know what I’m capable of feeling?” The insult wasn’t far off. She was right. But his defenses were pulsing. Who the hell does this woman think she is?
“Let’s skip this part. I don’t need you telling me how misunderstood you are. I don’t care. That’s not what I came here for. I wanted to look you in the eye and see if you cared for Libby enough to help her.”
“She needs help?”
“Did she tell you about Corey?”
The sound of his name sent an angry pulse through his core. “Yes,” he replied curtly. “Why?”
“After you two fought she distanced herself from me. I was fine with giving her the space because I knew you hurt her badly, and she needed time to refocus. But two days ago I hear from someone she used to work with at the school; she’s dating Corey again. They went out for coffee and now things are getting more serious. I’ve tried to call her and even went to her house. The only thing she keeps telling me is to mind my own business and let her take care of herself.” For the first time there were tears in her eyes rather than sparks of anger.
“Are you Jessica?” he asked, finally making the connection.
“Yes. Did she talk about me?”
“Frequently,” he admitted with a smile. “What the hell is she doing back with that asshole?”
“I know she was really starting to hope that things could work out between the two of you. Maybe after they didn’t she just felt so bad she went back to him. But he’s a psychopath. Trust me. I was there through the worst of it. He’ll kill her. There were plenty of times he almost did.”
“I’ll kill him first. Is that what you’re here to ask?” It wasn’t out of the question. This entire conversation was making his blood boil. He wanted to find out exactly what the hell Libby was thinking and throttle this guy for laying a finger on her.
“No,” Jessica shot back quickly. “I want you to do the things wealthy arrogant men do. Destroy him. Scare him off. Ruin his life. I don’t care what it takes, but get him away from her. Because I can’t. I’ve tried, and she won’t listen to me. You have to do something.”
“Trust me,” he said, leaning back in his chair and sweeping his hair aside, “I will.”
“But,” Jessica said, raising her index finger in his direction, “that doesn’t mean you should win her back. Or that I’m suggesting you’re the right guy for her. I just didn’t know who else to ask. I still think you’re a lying puke who was probably playing her.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, pursing his lips. “I don’t know who she talked to or where she got her information, but I never knew a thing about her father or any of the other people killed or injured here at West Oil whose families were treated badly.”
Her mouth, covered in bold red lipstick, snapped shut. She stood, yanked up the shoulder on her oversized sweatshirt and handed him a slip of paper. “This is everything I know about Corey. His address, the company he works for, his dog’s name.”
“I won’t involve the dog,” James said with a smirk as the tension in the room started to melt away.
“I don’t care if you involve his second grade teacher, just get him away from her. She’s my best friend. I love her so much, but she doesn’t know how to handle herself. She never has. I’ve always protected her. I’ve always done my best, but Corey, he’s just too much.”
James stood, rounded his desk, and looked down at Jessica, who seemed far less intimidating now. “He will never come anywhere near her again when I’m done with him. I promise.”
She nodded her head and moved toward the door of his office. “It was Mr. Wallace. That’s who she asked whether or not you knew about the problems at West Oil.”
James nodded his head gratefully, as a new wave of anger overcame him. That was another man he wanted to pound into the ground now. The list was growing longer by the second.
“Thank you for coming to see me. I’m glad you did.”
“Well,” she said, now looking far more sheepish, “thanks for not being the complete pompous, arrogant asshole I assumed you would be.”
“Mathew,” James called out. He knew he’d still be close by.
“Yeah,” he called anxiously as he rounded the corner quickly.
“This is Jessica. She’s a friend of Libby’s. She’s terribly sorry for coming in here the way she did and wants to apologize.”
“I do?” Jessica asked, her eyes going narrow. James shot her back a look, and she rolled her eyes. Jessica needed James to help her. So he knew she’d oblige. “I do want to apologize,” she groaned reluctantly.
“Can you walk her out? Maybe grab her a coffee downstairs before she goes. She’s a very interesting woman once you get
past her being scary.”
Rather than defend herself against the accusation, her face shone brightly with pride. “You better believe I’m scary. You’ll do well to remember that when you do what I’ve asked you to do.”
James raised his arms up in feigned surrender. “Message received. Consider it done.”
Mathew shot him an angry scowl as he gestured for Jessica to lead the way out of the office. With a wry smile James gave him a tormenting wave goodbye and mouthed the words, have fun.
When his office door was closed again he looked down at the paper Jessica had handed him. There was more than enough information here to find this asshole. And she had been right. James was very capable of destroying him in a multitude of ways. But that wasn’t the thought that kept pressing against his brain, causing an ache behind his eye. What the hell was Libby thinking?
The emotion she’d bled out of her heart when she recounted her time with Corey, the regret that had her head hanging low, had seemed so real. What could have possibly driven her back into that pitiful excuse for a man’s arms? And then like a bullet to the heart he had the answer. It was him. Obviously she’d been feeling the same way for him that he had for her. Though he hadn’t done anything wrong at West Oil, it didn’t mean his hands were clean in this situation. Because he’d done nothing. Nothing to explain it to her. Nothing to stop her. Nothing to chase her. He’d done nothing to show her she was more important than anything else. But now it was time to do something.
CHAPTER 24
Libby had dressed the part. She layered herself in every cliché about being incognito: Her hair tucked up into a large hat. Dark sunglasses half the size of her face that she was keeping on even inside the tiny diner. Baggy clothes that kept anyone from being able to easily describe her if they needed to. It was silly. She knew that. But it felt good to be someone other than herself right now.
From this vantage point in the corner booth, she could see Maggie. Her curly red hair was up in an effortless kind of coil that clearly just happened naturally—the kind any girl would be jealous of. Her face was delicate, and she moved with an airy glide. Efficient at her job and eager to please, Libby saw some of herself in this girl and how she interacted with each person who asked something of her.
Only there to observe and not really sure what her goal was, Libby was nearly ready to pay her bill and go. But as the rest of the diner cleared out and the waitresses started gabbing as they cleaned tables, Libby heard something that she couldn’t ignore.
“You need to just be done with him already,” a girl with a heavy Boston accent said curtly as she snapped her gum and grabbed an armful of dirty dishes from the table. “Corey is not worth all this heartache. You shouldn’t have to be worried that he’s always running around on you.”
“It’s not him,” Maggie answered quickly, shaking her head. “I have trust issues. It’s me.”
Libby strained to tune in to the conversation as another group of people moved out of their seats and went outside.
“I don’t like him,” the other waitress said, propping a hand on her hip as she came back from behind the counter and cleared another table.
“You don’t even know him,” Maggie defended. “He’s brilliant and funny. I still can’t believe he’s interested in a girl like me.”
“I know him plenty,” she argued. “He’s in here three times a week, always watching you and saying stupid things that make you doubt yourself. That’s not what a relationship is supposed to be like. Is he even serious about you? Where is this heading?” The other waitress looked to be in her thirties and had an expression on her face that said she’d spent many years dealing with jerks and wouldn’t be fooled by one.
“Actually,” Maggie said with a huge smile as she spun around with an armful of empty drinking glasses, “we’re moving in together. He asked me last night. I was totally shocked. I had this feeling something was going on with him, and it turns out he was just nervous I might not say yes when he asked. It was really sweet.”
Libby felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Like she was ten years old again and had fallen off the balance beam, landing flat on her back. Yesterday afternoon she and Corey had been walking through the park discussing the things that had changed in the years since they’d been together. An hour later he was asking this half woman/half child to move in with him. That was it, she’d seen enough. Or at least she thought she had.
There was a huge crash and plastic cups bounced across the floor, skidding right by Libby’s booth. Maggie had dropped them and instantly turned a sunburn shade of red. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped at Libby as she got on her hands and knees to grab the cups quickly. “I’m such a klutz. My boyfriend says I’m lucky I haven’t ended up in a full body cast.”
As Maggie stretched under Libby’s booth for a runaway cup, four tiny bruises peeked out from under the sleeve of her cotton uniform shirt. Most people would think those were too small to be anything of consequence. But Libby knew what it looked like two or three days after someone pressed their fingers so hard into your arm that it made marks. The spacing, the size, told her exactly what she’d been wondering since she first saw Maggie.
“Excuse me,” Libby said, clearing her throat nervously. “May I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Maggie answered brightly.
“I heard you two talking and—” Libby lowered her voice and leaned in, “I’m wondering if you need any help.”
“I, um . . .” Maggie twisted her gentle face up in confusion and then lit with understanding. “Oh, you mean are we hiring? I think we might be. I can get you an application.”
“No,” Libby said shaking off that idea. She pulled sunglasses from her face and whispered again. “I’m wondering if you need any help with your boyfriend. Do you feel unsafe or scared? I can help you if you are. No one should be putting their hands on you.” Libby gestured at the now covered spot where she’d seen the finger-sized bruises.
“Excuse me?” Maggie asked, instinctively covering her arm. “That’s none of your business. Corey would never—I mean, you misunderstood our conversation. I’m completely fine.”
“It’s all right if you aren’t. I understand how embarrassing it is; how you want to keep the truth from your friends so they don’t think less of you. But in the end your friends are the only ones who can really help you.”
“Listen,” Maggie said gently, “my shift is over. Latanya will take over your table if you need anything. I appreciate your concern, but really, I’m fine.”
Maggie walked away briskly, pulled her apron off, and sped through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.
Libby jumped when her phone began to skip across the table, vibrating with a string of text messages. It was Corey. He was talking about the play he’d scored tickets to that night. He wanted to take her because she was always so brilliant about modern theater, and he loved hearing her opinions. She wondered for a moment where he would tell Maggie he was. What lie he would spin. And if she challenged him, what he would do to her.
She texted back a quick note. That sounds great. Pick me up at nine? She’d need to get home, change, and get her head together. Every stray thought she’d been having, every mixed-up feeling, now attached itself to the next, until it all became crystal clear. She knew what to do, when to do it, and how. Now she just had to be sure she had the courage.
CHAPTER 25
James considered lots of options for hurting Corey and permanently removing him from Libby’s life. The most rewarding would have been putting his fist through the guy’s face. But a man in his position had to be more tactful. He was at the helm of West Oil, doing everything he could to clean up its image. Getting tossed in jail on assault charges would bring him unwanted attention. And there were worse ways to hurt a man than mere physical pain.
What he couldn’t decide was what to do about Libby. He’d considered driving to her house and telling her what he planned. Maybe she just needed to be snapped out of
this. If he could talk to her, reason with her, then all of this garbage with Corey would go away. But no, the right thing to do was take him out of the equation first.
Over the next few hours he dug into every aspect of Corey’s life. “Is this everything?” he asked Kent, West Oil’s security director.
“Yep,” he shot back through his gap-toothed smile. He’d been with the company for fifteen years, coming straight out of the military and trying to adjust to civilian life again. He’d been well connected with police and federal agencies and had even gotten James out of some trouble when he was young. When there was information to be dug up, Kent had the right shovel. “He’s pretty squeaky clean. Ivy League education. Good family. Good job.”
“No trouble at all with domestic violence?” James scanned the papers in front of him, looking for red flags he could exploit.
“Nope. Now that doesn’t mean he’s never had accusations against him, but his father seems pretty well connected and could likely quiet something if needed.” Kent plopped down on the chair across from James and made himself comfortable. “What’s his deal?”
James looked up and considered how much he should share. Kent was trusted and loyal to the company. “He likes to rough up his girlfriends and right now one of his girlfriends is someone I care about. I want to get a picture of what I’m dealing with before I dismantle his life brick by brick. Which I fully intend to do. But it helps to know if he’s some idiot who just gets his kick this way or a psychopath who I better bury deep so he can’t come back on me down the road.
“If he’s stayed under the radar this long, he’s probably a charismatic guy who has a connected family that keeps him out of trouble. The law firm he works for is one of the biggest in the state. I can tell you there is no way they would tolerate even a rumor that he was abusing someone. Maybe threaten that? It might be enough.”
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