by Lisa Cardiff
“It’s not a problem. I don’t have any plans today except taking care of you. I can grab coffee or lunch somewhere nearby while I review some contracts for work.”
“Are you sure you won’t be bored? You’ve already done so much for me.”
“I’ll manage. Don’t worry about me. Just concentrate on what you need to say to Senator Wharton today.”
She nodded. “Thank God I took acting classes as a kid. I’ll have to pull out all the stops.”
“You took acting classes?” I asked, even though I knew everything about her short-lived acting career. All that information was part of the research Knox and I gathered before I met Langley. She appeared in a couple commercials, and she had a cameo role in an A-list film before her dad died, but nothing in the ten or so years since she and her mom relocated across the country.
Blushing, she glanced at the floor. “Yes. Before my dad died, I dreamed of following in his footsteps. I wanted do a film together.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work out, so I became a physical therapist.”
“A natural transition,” I joked.
“Not really, but I enjoy helping people and exercising. Physical therapy seemed like a good choice.”
“Is it your passion?”
“I like it, and for now, that’s good enough. Besides, my mom and stepdad always hated the idea of me pursuing an acting career.”
“And they like the idea of you being a physical therapist?”
She scoffed. “Not even close. My mom thinks it’s beneath me.”
“What does she think you should do?”
Her eyebrows arched. “Honestly?”
“Honestly,” I replied.
“I think she’d like me to marry some guy in politics, or with the potential to have a career in politics, and bounce from charity to charity offering my time and image for the greater good.”
I gave her a wry glance. “So, in other words, she’d like you to follow in her footsteps.”
She smirked. “Something like that. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Is owning an investment firm your lifelong dream, or did you want to do something equally impractical as acting when you were a kid?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I wanted to be successful. The method mattered less than the outcome.” To an outsider who hadn’t lived in a trailer park with threadbare clothing, my admission probably sounded mercenary, but it was the unvarnished truth. When my stomach ached with hunger, I wanted to end the misery any way I could, and that was enough of a dream to give me the courage to wake up every morning and live another day.
“That’s it?”
I shifted on my feet. “That’s it,” I echoed, not wanting to put into words the rejection that fueled my childhood anger and propelled me to accomplish what I did over the last ten years. I’d built a company. I’d padded my bank account so I’d never have to experience the aching hunger that was the hallmark of my childhood, but most importantly, I’d made a name for myself—one that could stand toe to toe with Senator Wharton’s. In a way, I should be thankful for Senator Wharton, because he provided the motive to channel my anger and misery into a ticket out of that shithole trailer park in Arizona. “Growing up in the hell Knox and I experienced on a daily basis didn’t leave much room for dreams.”
“With or without dreams, you both turned out pretty damn good in my opinion.” She coiled her long hair into a bun, securing it at the back of her neck with a few well-placed pins. I preferred it tumbling down her back in long, golden waves. It made her look less like the icy princess photographed in pictures with her family.
“I’m glad you approve.” I held out my hand to her. “Are you ready to go?”
“No.” She laughed, but it sounded brittle and so unlike her.
“Hm,” I said, pulling her close to me. “I think I need to help you relax a little.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that. I feel like I’m about to crack in half from all the tension in my body.”
Tentatively, I brushed my lips across hers, keeping my eyes open to gauge her reaction.
“Nope. That didn’t help,” she murmured under her breath as she backpedaled a step or two.
“Good, because I’m not done yet.” I tugged her against me more firmly this time. In a few forceful strides, I had her backed against my dresser. I sealed my mouth over hers, deepening the pressure, demanding her surrender. When she finally relaxed, the addictive slide of her lips against mine sent sparks sliding down my spine, settling low in my gut. My tongue dipped into her parted mouth, and she moaned. Her sweet taste intoxicated me with every swirl.
At that moment, I realized I’d never get enough of Langley. My heart clenched painfully with bittersweet desire at the irrationality of the realization. Every second we spent together was a countdown to the end. We didn’t have a future, which made me even more determined to take as much of the present as she’d give me.
I tunneled my hands through her hair, and the bun at the back of her head unraveled. Like an explosion, we were all over each other, caressing, stroking until we were both mindless. She rocked her hips against me, and I wanted to ignore everything we needed to do and crawl under her skin until she felt the ghost of my touch long after our relationship faded into a bitter memory.
When I finally pulled my mouth from hers, my lungs burned for oxygen, and judging from the clock on my wall, she’d be late, but her soft smile and unfocused gaze were worth the delay.
“Now I’m ready to go,” she remarked, a laugh bubbling from her swollen lips.
I threaded my hand through hers. “Glad I could be of service.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Langley
“There’s a problem,” I said as I settled into the chair across from my stepdad at the kitchen table.
He looked up from his stack of papers and removed his wire-rimmed reading glasses, placing them on the table. “What are you talking about?”
I glanced over my shoulder and then leaned forward, supporting my elbows on the ash-colored table. “I found a listening device at my home.” For the most part, I told the truth, except I didn’t find it; Knox did.
He scrubbed his hand over his chin for a second, watching me with an unsettling intensity. “How do you know it’s a listening device?”
I reached into my pocket and dropped my computer mouse on the center of the table. “It’s inside there.” My hands shook with fear and my lungs constricted. Since I met him at the age of twelve, my mind had turned him into this invincible, bigger than life man, with the clout to either annihilate me or exalt me. Time hadn’t done a thing to mitigate that impression.
“Just this one. That’s all you found?”
I swallowed hard, struggling to suppress the nausea swelling like a tidal wave in my gut. There were more, or at least according to Knox, but he didn’t think we should remove every one of them from my house yet. “Yes, but I don’t know. There could be more. I’m not an expert.”
“How did you find this one?”
My stomach dropped to my knees. I didn’t have an answer. Internally, I cursed Archer and Knox for not prepping me on this point. My legs tingled with the urge to run out of the house, but I forced myself to remain seated and finish the conversation. I exhaled as I ran my finger along the sharp edge of the table. “A friend found it. He used to work for the military or something. I’m not really sure. He said I should get someone to look at it, but I thought I should take it to you first,” I said, keeping my story as close to the truth as possible. That way, I’d be less likely to stumble over details.
My stepdad picked up the mouse and twirled it in his fingers before dropping it into his briefcase, resting against the leg of his chair. “I’ll have some of my people look at it to make sure. It might be nothing.”
I nodded as I bounced my leg up and down under the table. “You’re probably right. My friend wasn’t totally sure anyway. I just wanted to bring it up with you.” I leaned
forward and lowered my voice. “Do you think someone is trying to get information about you?” I asked, my eyes wide and innocent, drawing on every last genetic acting ability I could muster.
“It’s possible,” he answered, tapping his fingers on the stack of papers in front of him.
“You really think so?”
“You can never be too safe.”
“I don’t know anything, so I guess it doesn’t matter either way. It’s just…” my voice trailed off, and I swallowed. “Creepy. You know? I don’t feel safe in my home anymore.”
“Have you been staying with a friend?”
“A couple nights, but I think I’ll call Winnie and see if I can sleep on her couch.”
“Your old room is always open to you. You can stay here until we get to the bottom of this.”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t inconvenience you and mom like that. I know you’re busy right now. I’ll just be in the way.”
“No. It’s actually a good idea. I’m going to announce my presidential campaign on Wednesday of next week from our living room. I’d love for you to be there.”
“Oh, so soon?” I asked, wringing my numb, cold hands in my lap, striving to calm my frazzled nerves. I knew he planned to announce his candidacy any week, but Wednesday was only four days away. Four days—that’s all the time we had to find a way to stop my stepdad. Archer didn’t think the timing mattered as long as it happened before Senator Wharton was elected, but I didn’t want this to drag on for weeks, much less months.
“Yes. My advisors already scheduled the interview. We had a few stumbling blocks to overcome, but everything came together seamlessly.” My stepdad stood up and shoved his hand in his perfectly starched khaki trousers. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of having you move back in for a while.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’d be perfect. Brandon is staying here for the next couple of days to strategize and take care of any loose ends. You guys can reconnect. I never understood why you two broke up. Your mom and I like him. He’s a good man.”
“No,” I snapped before I could moderate my voice. “I can’t do it.”
He cocked his head to the side. “You can’t? What does that mean?”
“Brandon and I aren’t on the best of terms. It’d be awkward, and I don’t want to be a distraction for him. I know you rely on him. It wouldn’t be fair.” What the hell! Why was Brandon getting closer to my stepdad rather than running as far and as fast as he could from him? Brandon suspected my stepdad was monitoring him and his calls. It didn’t make sense.
“Really?” Smiling faintly, he walked toward the gleaming white and gray veined marble countertop across the kitchen. He poured a cup of coffee. “That’s interesting. I thought you two were in the process of reconciling.”
“No, that’s not going to happen.”
He held up a white empty mug with his elegant fingers that had never done a day of manual labor. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No.” I shook my head, refusing his offer even though it would probably help my suddenly shivering body. I didn’t want to prolong this visit any longer than necessary. In fact, there was no way I was staying to play tennis with my mom today. “I’m good. I already had two cups this morning.”
“Hm, that’s strange,” he mumbled as he circled behind my chair.
I swiveled in my chair not wanting my back to him. “What’s strange?”
“I thought you and Brandon met last weekend to work things out.”
“Last weekend?” My heart thundered in my chest, drowning out the sound of my voice.
His hands dropped on my shoulder, and my muscles tensed. I bit my lower lip as disgust coiled around my stomach like a snake. It took every ounce of willpower I could rally in the recesses of my soul not to jerk away from his vile touch. Instead of making a scene, I counted like I always did when I thought I was going to snap.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
“Yes. I thought you two met last weekend near the Lincoln Memorial.” He removed his hands and settled into the chair next to me on the count of six. I sucked in a breath. “Am I wrong?”
I stared at him, at the man I once considered my family, not uttering a single word for a tense hair-raising second. Hate didn’t begin to describe the visceral reaction I had to him. It was too simple of a word. “Yes, we did, but not because we had any intention of getting back together.” I barely managed to keep the panic out of my voice. Just as Brandon had warned me, my stepdad had people watching every step I took and every word I muttered.
“Then why did you meet?” he said with a sigh.
“He found something of mine that I left at his house,” I answered. I kept my voice deceptively calm in order to conceal the horrors spinning through my mind one after another, each one crazier and more demented than the last.
“What?” One eyebrow lifted in sync with his one-word question.
“Excuse me?”
His mouth contorted into a chilly, ironic smile that told me more than his words. “What did you leave at his house?” he asked again.
I glanced to the side. This conversation had taken a strange twist, and there was only one explanation for it—he knew that I knew about those ten women. Well, fuck him. He wanted to make me squirm under his interrogation. It may have worked last week, but it wouldn’t work now. I forced a bright smile on my face and offered an equally uncomfortable response. “Personal items.” I shrugged. “You know…feminine hygiene products, makeup, underwear, birth control pills. After six months, I still hadn’t stopped by to pick up the things I left at his house. I told him to throw them away, but he wouldn’t do it. Why are you asking?” I laughed, pretending as though I didn’t suspect a thing, that his questions weren’t bizarre given our virtually nonexistent relationship.
He looked at me oddly for a second. Then a rueful smile spread across his face. “No reason.”
I glanced at my watch. “Crap,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t stay to play tennis with mom. I promised I’d meet Winnie for lunch in thirty minutes. Can you tell her I’m sorry?”
“Sure.”
Pushing my chair away from the table, the hind legs scratched across the wood floor and the dishes on the table jangled. “I’ll probably see you next Saturday, but I’m not sure.”
“I’d still like you to be here on Wednesday.”
I stood up. “Oh, right. I forgot about your announcement. What time?”
“Five in the afternoon.”
I nodded. “That might be difficult. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see if I can reschedule my last patient.”
“It was nice seeing you.”
“Yes,” I answered, my voice flat.
I held up my open palm and waved awkwardly, and then fled the room. The rubber soles of my shoes squeaked on the smooth flooring as I rushed through the house to the front door as fast as possible without breaking into a full run, but that changed the minute I slammed the door to their home.
My feet slapped against the concrete as I ran without purpose or plan, driven solely by the need to escape my stepdad as quickly as possible. He managed to obliterate any sliver of doubt I harbored of his innocence. He didn’t say anything too damning, but my instincts screamed he was guilty of everything Brandon suspected and more.
I brushed by people lingering on the street, ignoring their questioning stares. I’m sure I looked crazed with hot tears spilling down my cheeks. I didn’t have the luxury of worrying what people thought. I was living in a nightmare.
I didn’t bother to text Archer to pick me up until I’d put four solid blocks between my stepdad and me. As I stood on the corner, shivering both from the cold and the chat with my stepfather, the wind howled, blowing my hair around my face and drying my salty tears. I didn’t care. I felt oddly empty. I waited for the anger, the sadness, the disappointment…anything. But nothing
came. My emotions had gone on a hiatus to a quiet, dark place in a secret alcove of my soul, leaving me utterly and blessedly numb.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Archer
“He knows,” Langley said the minute she slipped into the backseat of the car next to me.
“What does he know?” Langley texted me to pick her up around the corner from Senator Wharton’s house ten minutes ago. I hadn’t expected her to finish for another hour, so I had stopped by Knox’s house to go over the final details of our plan.
Her head rolled forward, and she covered her face with her hands. “Everything. I’m sure of it.”
My heart lurched in my chest and my muscles stiffened. “Everything?” Her definition of everything was vastly different from his, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he told her a lot of things I didn’t want her to know about me just yet.
She dropped her hands, her face void of emotion. “Yes.”
I nodded, waiting for her to scramble across the seat and put as much space between us as possible, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned her head, resting it against my shoulder. I could feel the wetness of her tears against my shirt.
I trailed my fingers through the tangled waves of her hair. “Can you be more specific?”
“He knows I met Brandon last week.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I pointed out, even though it confirmed that Senator Wharton was watching Langley’s movements.
“It means he’s watching me.” Her voice splintered on the last word. “I think he asked me about it because he wants me to know he’s watching me.”
“Perhaps, but you already knew, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise.”
She lifted her head and stared at me. “You’re right, but part of me wanted to believe he could still be innocent, or that this was a misunderstanding.”
“You read the email. You heard Brandon’s warning.”