by RaeLynn Blue
“No intruder? Humor me, Mr. Middleton. What did happen?” Carol asked, the sarcasm slicing in his already churning stomach.
“Brooke stabbed me.”
Tawana gasped and Kaiden looked like he’d swallowed something unpleasant. Brice could empathize. The truth could be bitter going down. Brice had more than enough experience with bitter pills and hard truths.
“Brice told me this, but I believed, foolishly, what the cops told me. That Brice was suffering from post-traumatic stress and due to the trauma he suffered, did not remember clearly the events of that night.” Mr. Silver sank into another chair and sat with his elbows on the table, hands tented in front of his face.
Brice nodded, forcing the burning sting of tears back down into his belly. He wouldn’t cry for the audience in front of him. None of them deserved his tears and Brooke damn well didn’t.
“Well, he did suffer a traumatic event. How accurate is your memory, Mr. Middleton?” Carol interjected.
“Let him tell it, Carol.” It came out like a bark more than a request.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Silver.”
Brice sighed. He didn’t know what Mr. Silver had planned or why he wanted Brice to tell this story again, but he did as he was told.
“It’s really simple. Brooke cheated on me. Hurt, I went to her apartment, to confront her with the evidence I had. She attacked me. I woke up a week later in the hospital.”
“Evidence?” Carol asked.
“Of her being unfaithful. Phone logs, dates she said she was working but was elsewhere, pictures—” Brice broke off. He didn’t need to tell them that Brooke had cheated on him with a fellow salesman named Patrick Pedmore. The guy had been fired by Silver shortly after Brice came back to work.
“None of it matters. What does matter is why she broke in today? How did she get in and what does she want?” Kaiden said.
Brice opened his eyes and found Mr. Silver staring at him.
“No, Kaiden, it does matter. I misjudged Brooke Haven before. I felt sorry for her attack in her apartment. I believed her, Kaiden. We all did. And she lied. Moreover, she tried to kill Brice. For years, she worked under the same damn roof, knowing her victim was here too. Think of the level of depravity, of absolute vacancy in empathy. Brooke’s evil must be understood if we can, as you put it, figure out what she wants. I need to understand her, and Brice is the only person who can give us that insight.”
He saw Mr. Silver’s burning anger in those blue eyes. It had nothing to do with the building, or Brice, but Brice understood that the one thing Silver valued more than anything—Cree Caruthers—also worked here. A threat to the woman he loved and the employees he cared about all because he failed to acknowledge Brice’s statement—that Brooke stabbed him. Mr. Silver had relied on the cops and they had failed.
If Brooke would attempt to kill Brice, why not, say the person she held responsible for her firing—Silver’s fiancée, Cree.
Brice saw it all in the unwavering scowl on Mr. Silver’s face.
And he understood.
If any good could come out of him telling them about that horrible night, then he would. But not his pain, his anguish, or the details. Silence hung heavy in the room like a dark curtain despite the bright fluorescent lights.
“The rest, you know,” Brice concluded.
Mr. Silver stood up. “When I arrived at the hospital, Brooke told me the attacker story. I believed her.”
“We all did,” Carol added. “The cops did too.”
“So, what happens now?” Tawana asked. “She’s clearly dangerous and violent. How did she get in here and what did she want?”
Brice knew she worried about Aerial.
Mr. Silver went over to the dry erase board. “That is what we’re going to find out. Starting now. The detectives suspect that Brooke broke in to steal sales information. Maybe to start her own advertising firm. The Greensboro police department wanted to know how she got in. Cameras marked her entrance as a little less than an hour prior to Brice’s arrival. The keycard she used to get in belonged to an ex-employee. Too many questions still, but the case is open. Let’s see what we can put together now.”
He turned to Brice and with a smile said, “When we catch her, it will be because of you. You were strong enough to share your pain and knowledge of her with us. I won’t forget your bravery.”
Brice nodded again, too stunned for words. He’d never dream that anything good could come of his pain.
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday, Three Months Later
Office of Stevens & Eaton Detective Agency
Stephen Silver didn’t like Olivia Eaton’s big, chunky, oak desk. Sure, it was finely crafted, but he felt it too much furniture for such a small space. The partial owner of Stevens & Eaton Detective Agency, Olivia Eaton sat behind said atrociousness in a cheap rolling chair. He cast his eyes at Carte.
Not a single brown hair out of place, Carte, dressed as usual as if it was a formal event, stood beside him. Only Olivia sat. Everyone else remained standing. Beside him was Tonica Faye, who was the sole reason Stephen was here on a Saturday and not nestled beneath Cree’s sensual warmth.
Just thinking about his lovely wife-to-be, made him sigh.
“Whatever it is, it must be pretty damn important to get both of you in my office, on a Saturday at that.” Olivia said and pointed at Carte. “You owe me. But you…”
“I don’t owe anyone,” Stephen said.
Olivia’s high arching brows raised at his tone.
“You’re fifteen minutes late, you’ve talked on the phone and you’ve wasted my time. This is not how you conduct a business,” Stephen said, his patience exhausted. The incredibly small office seemed to close in on him.
“Wait, Stephen, please.” Carte touched his arm. “Granted, Olivia’s late, but she has good reason. No one is the better at what they do in the Triad, hell possibly in the state. It’s worth some inconvenience for results. Right?”
Stephen saw Carte’s point. He didn’t like anything about the situation with Brooke. Nothing. But, here it was—a blight on his business. A loose end threatening to trip up everyone involved. If Brooke hurt Cree, or any of his employees like she’d done to Brice, he’d be ruined—emotionally and financially.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“I’m sorry, Silver,” Tonica said. “One of our cases got tied up with the cops. Took a while to break free.”
She pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded at Olivia. “You do know who he is.”
“I do.”
The tension welled in the short distance between him and Olivia.
She wore big, gold hoop earrings and her jet black hair was pulled high into a ponytail. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, she didn’t look like a detective of any kind, but neither did Tonica.
“Why are you here?” Olivia asked, clearly not liking what he’d said. Her dark brown eyes narrowed on the word here as if she wished he’d go anywhere but there.
“Obviously, I have a job for you.” Stephen nodded and Carte put the manila folder on the desk.
Olivia took it and passed it to Tonica without looking at it.
“What kind of job?” Olivia asked. Her eyes locked with his. Strong-willed, just like Cree. He liked that in a woman, and for that, she earned his respect.
“Information, location, and tangible proof of intent.”
“Intent to do what?”
“Harm me, steal from me, and hurt my employees, my fiancée or my business. I want to know everything…” He caught himself. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.
“Do you accept the case?” he asked her.
“Depends on what I hear. Details please.”
“Three months ago my business was broken into by a former employee. She used a keycard that was supposed to be deactivated, and was, but a few months ago we learned it had been reactivated. The police are nowhere close to resolving the break-in. But I want it resolved.”
“Okay. What information do you need? Pictures, video, what?” Olivia asked, turning to a sleek, flat laptop. She typed as she spoke.
“Name of the individual.”
“Brooke Haven.”
“Address.”
“It’s in the file.”
Olivia sighed. “Look, I know you’re super famous and powerful, but in here, you’re a client. I’m not your secretary. So when I ask for details…”
Stephen smiled but it lacked mirth. “Ms. Eaton. I am prepared to pay well above your normal standard fees. I want Brooke Haven’s plans, objective, her fucking life on a damn flash drive. If you can’t handle it, don’t waste any more of my time…”
Carte cleared his throat. “Olivia. Mr. Silver has another meeting, so he must be going. Tonica and I will fill you in on the finer details. What we need is information and proof that Brooke is out to destroy, steal, and possibly kill.”
Leave it to Carte to try to smooth feathers, but that was only when Stephen had ruffled them in the first place. So, he tried to behave himself and check his frustration. Olivia wasn’t to blame.
“I apologize for my rudeness, but I am out of patience. My fiancée means everything to me. Brooke threatened her and all I have worked for. I want Brooke found. I want proof so that I can end her. Figuratively, of course. Do you understand me?”
Stephen struggled to control the tone and level of his voice. He wanted to roar in frustration. To beat his chest and race out into Greensboro with murder on his mind and willingness in his heart. But Cree kept him from the ridiculousness of those actions.
Olivia stood up slowly from behind her desk, but her eyes were trained on him.
“I do understand.”
“So do we have a deal?” Stephan asked. He extended his hand to her.
Olivia’s smile—cold, detached, matched his own. “Who am I to disagree with Stephen Silver?”
They shook.
“Whew,” Tonica said, laughing. “That was way harder than it had to be.”
Carte kissed her cheek. “No, Tonks. I would be the same if someone threatened you. What you’re looking at is a man in love. Terribly, deeply, wrapped in—love for his woman. When that is threatened and he cannot fix it immediately, you see him at his worse.”
“Shush, Carte. You’ll tell all the secrets,” Stephen said.
“I’ll walk you out,” Carte replied.
Once they cleared the doors to the office, Carte turned to him. “Tonks is really good at her job. They’ll find Brooke. We’ll get her.”
Stephen nodded. “The keycard belonged to Patrick Pedmore.”
“Ahh…but we deactivated it.” Carte scowled in puzzlement.
“Yes, someone reactivated it.”
That alone kept him up at night. Someone at C.A.K.E. plotted with Brooke and acted in concert with her.
He’d always treated his employees like family, but now, he had to take a hard look at everyone.
Everyone.
Chapter Fourteen
“So, you want to come in or what?” Brice asked her, a big grin on his face. With his clothes wrinkled, and new growth sprouting all over the lower half of his face, he didn’t look anything like the polished professional salesman she’d met just a few months ago.
A lot had changed since then.
Parked outside his home, Aerial got out of the sports car. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read, Mean People Suck, she took in the big townhouse with amazement. Finally. She’d get to see his home. Just like the car, Brice’s house spoke to his success as a salesman. Scanning the quiet, picturesque neighborhood, Aerial noted that Wendover Avenue seemed it was hundreds of miles away, not merely five. Located in High Point, on the edge of Greensboro, the neighborhood looked immaculate from the outside. Well-manicured plots of grass, flowers in full bloom bobbing in the breezes, and stainless steel and metallic ornate fixings on the doors and windows. It didn’t seem to fit the Brice Middleton she had come to know. The guy who ate potato chips by the bag—a family-size bag. Or the man who liked to juggle apples. Or the man who kept a comic book collection in his desk at work.
“I’m coming.” She walked up the brick pathway that led from the driveway to the flat porch. No, this home spoke of a family man. She expected a man, a wife and two little kids to coming bopping out and announce that Brice didn’t live here, but in fact, was pranking her.
Her sneakered feet moved forward as if on their own accord. Surreal, she couldn’t believe he’d brought her here, to his home. He stood between the screen and the front doors watching her in that careful, deliberate manner of his. Wearing a fitted, navy blue A&T T-shirt and jeans, he looked very casual and comfortable and yummy.
Last night, he’d spent the evening at her apartment, but today he demanded he go home—and that she come too. This morning, after a lazy breakfast of cereal and soy milk, he dressed quickly. He’d flown out to San Diego on business for the last month, but he’d managed to make the three hour time differential between the East coast and the West work for them. They had managed to stay in touch.
As he often did when he came home from traveling, he’d driven directly from PTI Airport to her apartment. Exhausted, jet lagged, he would simply strip down to nudity, pull her close, and fall asleep. If he had to work the next day, he would shower at her place and use the clean clothes he had in his suitcase.
Later, in the evenings, as soon as her shift ended at the café, Aerial would leap into his silver sports car purring at the curb and drive off with him. After a movie, pizza and a few beers, she and Brice got to know each other all over again.
Set to repeat. It happened like this for weeks. She didn’t like him traveling so much, but it was his career and he loved it.
Last night had been heaven, and this morning, he woke up, smiling at her with something she didn’t know if she would ever be able to see in his eyes—trust. Now, standing outside his townhouse, she realized how serious Brice had become about them.
“You coming?” He smiled.
She hurried and joined him. He ushered her into the hardwood floored space. Locking the door behind him, Brice swept his hand outward. “Home.”
A soft, orange cat meowed a hello.
“Oh, hi!”
“Tabitha, meet Aerial,” he said and scooped her up.
Aerial stroked her sweetly and the cat purred at the ministrations. “You have a cat,” Aerial said and put out her hands.
He looked at her hands and then down at Tabitha. For a brief second, Aerial thought he wasn’t going to let her hold his pet, but he handed her over. Of course, Tabitha wouldn’t have any of that and leapt out of Aerial’s arms.
“She doesn’t like strangers, too much.” Brice took Aerial’s hand.
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Hey, I’m trying here.”
“I know.”
She kissed him on the cheek, feeling the soft pricks of his new growth. “Brice…”
“I’ll shave in a little bit.”
He walked around the townhouse, showing her his paintings and the wall of photos. Lily’s face appeared in a number of them, grinning happily. Brice’s unsmiling face stood protectively close to her. An older woman who looked identical to Lily appeared in a few of the older ones but not many. No father at all.
“Lily has the same eyes as you.”
“My father’s,” Brice said tightly. A cloud floated across his face. He tugged her hand away from the pictures and up the stairs to the upper level. Three bedrooms, one that had been converted to an office, and a second room that acted as a guest room completed the top floor. She spied books and dolls in the guestroom. She turned to Brice.
“Your niece, right?” Aerial asked.
At the top of the stairs, Brice turned to look at her. Again, she watched him wrestle with how much to tell or maybe to tell her at all. Giving in, he answered. “Shelly. I often felt like she was the closest thing to a child I’d ever have.”
“They don’t live around he
re, do they?” Aerial asked.
She’d heard Brice speak of them, and not too often. He kept so much of himself at bay. Truth be known, he’d been allowing her entry into his life, but it occurred very slowly—painfully slow. It annoyed her, but she checked her patience. Pain scampered across his face at the mention of Lily and his niece. Without him giving her information, she didn’t know which topics to avoid and which were okay.
“I’m sorry, Brice. I didn’t mean to bring up negative…”
“It’s not your fault.” He walked down stairs and she followed.
He sat down on the soft beige leather and patted the spot beside him. “Come here.”
“Oh, what movie are we going to watch?” She brightened when she saw that he hadn’t continued to nurse his pain. Opposite the sofa, a large 50” flat screen television rested above a fireplace. The mantle’s marbled surface gave the living room the feel of elegance, like the fixtures. Brice truly took pride in his home. A bachelor’s pad for sure, nothing gave any indications of a female living there and it was very clean, organized. Only sports magazines, books on sports, finance, and sales.
“We’re not watching a movie just yet,” Brice said. He cleared his throat.
“Okay.” She sat down on the sofa. On the coffee table lay a book. “Hamlet! You have a copy of Hamlet!”
She scooped up the bound version of the play.
“I got it because you have a show in a few weeks,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah I do, but what are you going to do?” Aerial laughed, holding the copy above her head.
He tried to grab it from her, but instead, they ended up wrestling. She tucked it under her body, and rolled over, keeping it away from him. Of course, Brice managed to tickle her and as she dissolved into laughter, he took it out of her hands.
With his tousled blond hair and flushed face, he looked incredibly sexy.
“I love you,” Aerial sighed. Giggling, she sat up and fixed her afro puffs.
Brice had gone very quiet.
Brice’s blood stopped.
Or so it seemed.