by Sakwa, Kim
Two hours later—after Amanda had torn the house apart looking for evidence of Alex before he’d taken her from the hospital, or any kind of relationship she might have had with him—Amanda picked up her phone and dialed, tapping her foot, frustrated and still thinking of more places to look even as the phone rang. There had been no evidence. Nothing made sense. Nothing explained why no one, Sam especially, told her Alexander frigging Montgomery was the father of her children. Or, if this ridiculous but increasingly plausible idea was the truth, then why there were no pictures of him or them together anywhere, even in a drawer or an album? She’d checked. Everywhere. No pictures, no love letters, cards, mementos, an old T-shirt of his in her closet buried under her things. Nothing online, nothing in the house. Nothing at all.
“Derek?” she said when her longtime private jet pilot finally answered.
“Amanda?” Captain Morgan said, obviously surprised to hear from her at two in the morning.
“Are you in town?”
“I am.”
“I need to go to Chicago. I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”
She heard fumbling in the background. “I’ll call the guys and have her ready by four. Good?” he said, and Amanda breathed a thankful sigh of relief. Captain Morgan—always reliable.
“Perfect. Thanks, Derek.” It would take an hour to get to the small private airport where they kept her G5 anyway.
She had one more call to make. She knew it would break the new current protocol, but at the moment she didn’t really care. She needed to take control, and this seemed like the right move. The only right move. Stan’s voice was clear as a bell when he picked up. “You okay?”
“I need you to pick me up.”
“Amanda?”
“I need to get out of here, Stan. Please.”
“I have to tell him,” he said. Stan had been with her longer than he’d been with Montgomery, so Amanda knew that if she pressed, he’d be loyal to her, though it would pain him. Stan loved rules.
“No,” she said firmly. “You don’t. In fact, when we get out of here, you need to tell me. I still don’t know what’s going on, but I’d bet my last dollar that you do.”
“Amanda, I have to let Alex know—he’s my boss.”
“I’m taking the kids and Rosa regardless. If you don’t come, I’ll go alone.” She hung up the phone and glanced at the clock again—2:07. She knew Stan well enough to know he’d be here by the time she was ready. He’d never let her leave alone, too worried for her safety. In this house of cards, Stan was the only person she still trusted, and even that with caveats considering the circumstances.
Why hadn’t anyone shared the truth with her? The question had run across a marquee in her head all night. They’d taken advantage of her good nature. It made her mad. And made her feel like a frigging idiot. She’d begun to bond with him. Jeez, they…she’d felt like they were becoming friends. Friends who liked to be with each other. A lot. Who gave each other longing glances—don’t think she hadn’t noticed. What, was she deemed too delicate to handle the truth? Well, screw that. She refused to be the Amanda who needed to be treated with kid gloves. Bring it on, people. Now she’d take the upper hand. She was taking charge.
Filled with renewed determination, Amanda grabbed a weekender and started packing, not sure how long she’d be gone, but knowing that staying here right now was not an option. God, she’d been stupid. It seemed so obvious now. The way he always looked at her, so deeply and so seriously. The way he always touched her when she was in front of him, brushed her hair back, fixed her hood, or checked her bruises. The way he spoke to her, and, she hated to admit, how his voice made her feel. And what security company’s CEO was around that much, took that much personal interest in their clients, no matter how famous they were or how much they were worth? Amanda thought about how he always seemed to take cues from Evan before broaching a subject. Like he was asking Evan’s permission for it. Permission about how much she could handle. Of the truth. That made her angrier. She could handle anything, she thought, just give her a frigging chance. And Sam! That was the betrayal that hurt the worst. Why on earth couldn’t her friend, her best frigging friend, give her a clue? The next time she called her that cutesy name, Ammy, she might just slap her.
Over feeling like a victim while waiting for her memory to return, Amanda marched past Sam’s room, her anger turned to fury that she’d kept something this monumental from her. Fifteen minutes later, she had Callie and Zander packed. It was only a three-and half-hour flight, so whatever essentials she didn’t have for the baby she’d send for. Amanda was smart enough to wait in the foyer, avoiding the men who were stationed outside.
Stan circled the drive at 2:37, behind the wheel of one of Montgomery’s rotating fleet of Navigators. Stan must have said something to placate the men stationed out front since other than a cursory nod from the guards, they were left alone. Amanda carried a sleepy Callie and Rosa held Zander while Stan transferred their bags, then helped them get settled. Not wanting to further upset the applecart with the children and Rosa in the car, Amanda remained silent. It wasn’t easy; she had a million questions swirling through her head.
By the time they pulled up next to the plane, Captain Morgan had the jet ready. Amanda settled the kids in back. Callie safely strapped to the sofa, Zander in his car seat next to Rosa. Amanda took her usual seat, always port side. Her father had taught her years ago that it moved the least. Stan took the seat across the aisle from her. Lift-off was but moments later. She thought of Callie’s sweet, innocent question about seeing her papa as the lights faded from below. Jesus, Alexander Montgomery. The father of her children. Where had they met? When had they met? How long had she known him before—seriously! It didn’t feel like she’d lost that much of her memory, but here she was, missing an entire relationship. She looked at the scars on her left hand, but she couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there. She was traditional in some regards, always had been, so she would never have had Zander without being married. But she couldn’t remember any of it. She racked her brain for those lost memories, and her mind settled upon Callie’s first day of school. She’d never forget it because that was the first morning her jeans hadn’t fit since she’d gotten pregnant with Zander, and it wasn’t like she could have arrived pants-less. Thank god for mommy blogs and the genius behind the rubber band trick for buttoning up your jeans. She remembered how cute Callie had looked in her litt—wait. Something else. Amanda remembered being so sad that day. Sad that he couldn’t see it. Alex. Actually, she’d been more than sad, she’d been distraught. She’d hated that he wasn’t there, but why? Had he been working for his government? Off on some secret mission? Had they just broken up and he went one way and she the other? Why would he have left Callie with her, especially when it was clear how he cared for her?
It took about twenty minutes for Rosa to fall asleep. Amanda had been waiting for this moment, wanting to question Stan. He must have been waiting, too, because not more than thirty seconds later, he crossed the meager aisle and took the seat facing her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked before he had a chance to speak.
“I work for him now.”
“That hurts.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Tell me what in the hell is going on, Stan? Can I trust you? Am I safe? Is he after the children?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Amanda, all of this”—he made a circular motion with his hands—“is because of what happened in the hospital. Alex wanted to come clean. I wanted to come clean. But Evan has told us repeatedly that your memory is going to return, but until it does, it would be more harmful to overwhelm you. It’s jacked-up complicated and I may in fact lose my job for taking you to Chicago, but you know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, or your family. Ever.” Stan folded down the small airplane table between them and set his laptop on it. “The files are r
ight here,” he said as he clicked on an icon. “I took you underground, Amanda, last year when we moved from New York to California. The press was too much at the time, and with Callie and the baby on the way, it was just easier all around. On all of us. For a lot of reasons. Anything you read here has been wiped from the internet. Our team under Art and now Alex handles the daily sweeps. It’s only the bones, Amanda. I really need to talk with Evan about the rest, if that’s okay with you.”
“For now, you can keep the color commentary to yourself.”
Her eyes hurt from exhaustion and studying the screen so intently. Clippings from newspapers and tabloids with headlines that read things like “Amanda Marceau, Famous Songwriter, Heiress to the Marceau Fortune, Mysteriously Disappears,” all dated from a little over a year ago. One article went into the specifics of where she was last seen. Apparently, it hadn’t been known if it was in the States or abroad. Almost as strangely, Amanda read that her stepbrother, Robert, their usual family spokesperson, also couldn’t be located for comment. Another article announced her return, which had apparently been just as mysterious. “She’s Back! Amanda Marceau in the Flesh.” Amanda shivered. It was eerie reading about herself like this, things she had zero memory about. This one drew attention and possible speculation of a family rift as Robert still wasn’t available for comment. Frankly, Amanda didn’t care whether or not Robert was ever “available for comment” again, but his absence was weird. He loved the spotlight, always had. An In Scene magazine cover showed pictures of her holding hands with Callie on the beach in the Hamptons, walking among the shops and eating in town. Sam, Stan, and two others, obviously part of her security detail, were pictured as well under the headline: “Marceau Part Deux—Where Did Amanda Keep Her Love Child and Little Clone?” There were countless more articles and magazine clippings. The latest featured a screenshot of that awful viral video under the headline “Can She Pull It Together for Awards Season?”
The next file Amanda opened gave her a shock. Various passports and birth certificates for not only her, but Callie as well. Each had corresponding mother-daughter names, aliases, and numbers. Adoption papers for Callie. An amniocentesis she’d had while pregnant with Zander. The documents drew attention to the fact that Callie and her unborn baby were related by father. Amanda realized she had been holding her breath as she clicked through these files and let it all out in one whoosh. Who was this person? What had she been up to that she needed so much illicit documentation? She’d actually traipsed the black market. Why? Had she taken Callie? And now that he knew she couldn’t remember, was Mr. Montgomery making his move, coming after them again? But then Sam surely would have said something. Stan too. Forget that, Art would have killed him if—did they know? Maybe he cleverly worked his way back in? So many questions, and as of now, so few answers. Still, how had Callie come to be hers and not Montgomery’s? They’d obviously been on the scene alone together sans Alex last year. What the hell had happened?
They landed at 9:30 a.m., Chicago time. Amanda gathered her children and what remained of her loyal retinue. They climbed into the waiting Range Rover at the private airport outside the city proper. The sun was just climbing as Stan navigated the downtown traffic to her penthouse. She felt like a character in one of those spy movies, trying to keep one step ahead of the other players.
Alexander Montgomery didn’t consider himself a man quick to anger. However, when he’d arrived at Amanda’s early that morning, his blood shot up a hundred degrees.
“What do you mean, they left with Stan?” he asked the men stationed outside the front doors. Were they fucking kidding? After going to the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee, he’d realized how oddly quiet the house was, even at this early hour. He’d taken the stairs two at a time and quickly discovered that Amanda and his children were gone. Helen was none the wiser as to their current whereabouts or that they had in fact left at all.
“At 2:39 this morning,” Jason confirmed. At least the man had the decency to look a little sheepish that it had taken them this long to catch on to the fact that they’d been duped by their comrade.
Alexander called Stan. “Did you actually have the temerity to take my wife and children from their home without telling me?”
“Boss, I—”
“Bring them the fuck back now!” he shouted, not caring who else heard. Bloody hell, Stan had taken his family from him. And presently, he couldn’t just jump on a plane and go after them. Alexander glanced at the dial of his Breitling; he had two important meetings today, one at nine, the other at six, in New York. Amanda knew it, too—he’d told her of his schedule yesterday, so she would know not to expect him for dinner. She’d made a cute comment about having only seven for dinner and what was a girl to do. It was adorable. Or, it had been.
“She’s really mad,” Stan said.
“About. What.”
“You, sir.” So Amanda had figured it out. She knew. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she was a fiercely intelligent woman. He felt his muscles relax, if only slightly. But if she knew what had happened, why had she left?
“Did she disclose any details?” Alex asked through gritted teeth, trying to retain what calm he could.
“At this point, I think she knows only that you’re Callie and Zander’s father.”
Bloody hell. Some information could be terribly misleading. Without much of a choice, he relented. “One day, that’s it,” Alexander said. He rubbed his temples. Bloody hell. “You have until the morning. I want them in the house by lunch. Understood?”
“Copy that, boss,” Stan said before hanging up the phone.
“Well,” Alexander said, turning his gaze to Sam, who had come into the kitchen while he’d been on the phone with Stan.
“She didn’t tell me anything, Alex. I swear.” She held up a hand to enforce the point. “I’m as surprised as you.”
“Well, someone has my wife’s ire,” he mused, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He couldn’t be sure what was going through that terribly clever head of hers, but he’d assume it wasn’t good, considering she’d up and left. With his children. Bloody hell, he finally had them under one roof—two, counting his temporary residence next door—and he was more than displeased they were gone. But he knew the longer they put off telling her, the more likely something of this sort might occur. Too bad it happened in the middle of the night when he was none the wiser.
Everyone looked to him expectantly where they gathered in kitchen. He motioned with his head. “Move. Stephen, you’re with me today.”
“Wait!” Sam called. She stood up from the large overstuffed chair that was her favorite. “You can’t just not do anything about it.” Her face was crestfallen.
“Not do anything about it?” he repeated, incredulous. “Samantha, I’ve given them thirty-six hours, of which I will count each second. If they’re not safely back here, in this kitchen, by lunch tomorrow, I will move heaven and earth to retrieve them. And I can assure you, if that happens, they will wish the hell I hadn’t.”
“If you hear anything—” she started, but Alexander cut her off.
“I’ll let you know. I expect the same.”
The mood was grim as their caravan wound along the Pacific highway. Alexander’s mobile command center, a black XL Navigator, drove as always in the middle of four others. All of the trucks in their fleet were customized to some degree, but his was completely tricked out, as they said in twenty-first-century lingo. A sectional in the back wrapped around the cab with ample legroom in the center. Computer screens and outlets for countless gadgets were everywhere.
Always driven by Gregor, with Trevor riding shot gun, he and Michael sat in back. Stephen was with him today, too. Calder Defense’s offices occupied what had been JDL Security pièce de résistance, a stunning state-of-the-art eighteen-story glass building with ocean and mountain views. A new logo was now affixed to the building, which looked ama
zing. While there was a perfunctory street entrance, this particular facility was equipped with underground parking. They packed into two of the four elevators in the garage and arrived seconds later to the top floor, which housed their personal offices.
“Katie,” he said, nodding to their receptionist, who’d worked under Art’s tutelage for well over ten years. She greeted him in kind and handed him a clean schedule, identical to the one she’d sent to his phone. Sure, she looked like the typical modern-day professional working at any office, but Katie, like all of their employees, had military training. So, while she could smile and answer the phone, emails, and arrange any number of tasks, she was also trained in Krav Maga and a skilled marksman to boot. Should trouble darken their doors, Katie was a brilliant first line of defense.
Stephen hadn’t been here since he’d had their new furniture delivered, so, momentarily distracted from his runaway wife and children, Alex eagerly ushered his brother inside his corner suite with stunning views, eager to point out the improvements. Alexander left Stephen behind his desk a few minutes later, where he was diving into some new instructional videos Trevor had put together for him. There was never enough for them to learn, including ever-evolving technologies and current business practices. When this business with Amanda was over, Stephen would take Alex’s place at Calder Defense, or somewhere within the confines of Montgomery Enterprises. Whatever he wanted was okay by Alexander. He only wanted his brother to be happy. And as Stephen felt guilty, misguidedly so, for what had ultimately happened that day they’d lost Amanda and Callie, his brother’s well-being and satisfaction was paramount.
Alexander checked on Gregor next, but didn’t find him in his office, even though Alex had had a wall of flat-screens installed for him. Irritated, Alex went back out to reception and— “Bloody hell, Gregor.” Alexander stopped halfway down the hall. Gregor was leaning over the counter of the reception desk, trying once again to charm Katie. Alex grabbed him by the collar as he passed and pushed him forward.