by HELEN HARDT
“Good. Good.” What else? I didn’t really give a rat’s ass what kind of training the guy had. I wanted to know what he was doing with Marjorie Steel.
“I have an opening tomorrow if you want it. We can see if the chemistry’s right.”
“Great. I’ll take it.”
“It’s early. Six a.m.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Weekends are my busiest time, man. You know. Most people work during the week and all.”
“Right. But six a.m.?”
“We can schedule another time, but you’ll have to wait longer.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll take it.” What the heck? I could always cancel.
“Perfect.” He thrust a clipboard toward me. “Fill this out, and then I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Leave it on the desk when you’re through.”
I nodded as he left the office.
I completed the paperwork quickly and then scanned the small room. I could snoop around, but someone would likely walk in, and what was I looking for anyway?
Fuck. I had Ted Morse on my back, the mystery surrounding Justin what’s his name, and the legacy of my father…and here I was at the gym making an appointment for training I didn’t want.
All because of Marjorie Steel.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I walked out of the trainers’ office, down the stairs, and out of the fitness center.
Time to go home to my son.
Time to be a father.
Time to be a man.
Except that my phone rang.
I didn’t recognize the number.
“Yeah?” I said into the phone a little harshly.
“Bryce Simpson.”
“You got him.”
“I’m watching you.”
“Different number,” I told Joe at the bar that evening. “Still had an Iowa code.”
“Did you send it to the Spider?”
“No, I haven’t accessed that account yet. I was going to earlier—” I stopped, pulling my wallet out of my pocket. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
“What?” Joe asked.
“The card you gave me.”
“Is destroyed, right? I told you to memorize it and destroy it.”
“I was at the gym today, and I was looking at it, and then a trainer came in and shook my hand… Fuck.”
“Don’t even say what I think you’re going to say to me.”
“I must have dropped it. Fuck.”
“Christ, Bryce.”
“So we cancel the account and you set up a new one. No big deal.”
“No big deal? The password is on that card.”
“But it’s in code.”
“Right. Except it’s nine-year-old-kid code. It won’t take a genius to think of looking at it upside down.” He punched into his phone. “I’m deleting the account right now and setting up a new one. The Spider is going to think we’re idiots.”
“Who cares? He’s being well paid.”
“Guys of his caliber don’t waste time with idiots, no matter how rich they are. Idiots get you killed, Bryce.”
He was right. I’d fucked up. Majorly.
“The gym’s still open. We can go back to Snow Creek, go to the trainers’ office.”
“And tell them what?”
“That I lost something. It’s probably not that uncommon, Joe.”
“I’ll ask you again. What the fuck were you thinking even looking at that card while you were in a public place?”
I’d been thinking about his sister, about her new trainer, about everything Marjorie and nothing about the potential trouble I could get myself into.
In other words, I hadn’t been thinking.
I couldn’t tell Joe any of that. Not if I wanted to live. He’d hate me being with Marjorie.
But you love her.
I silenced my inner voice.
I couldn’t afford to love anyone right now, especially Marjorie Steel. She deserved a whole man, and I was so far from that.
“I’m sorry,” was all I said.
Joe stared down at the wooden bar.
“I’m done apologizing now, man. So either get over it or take me outside and pummel me. I don’t really give a fuck which one.”
No truer words. My life was crap. Total crap. Even my beautiful little son wasn’t giving me joy these days, which made me a crap father in addition to all the other crap that was my life.
“I’m tempted,” Joe said.
“Nothing stopping you that I can see.”
Instead, he grabbed a cocktail napkin and pen from across the bar. He hurriedly wrote some words on it and then handed it to me. “The new account and password, in code. Fucking memorize it right now, Bryce. Right fucking now.”
I looked at it. Ironman908 was the account name. Easy enough. Then the password in our code. I quickly translated it and committed it to memory.
I wouldn’t screw up again.
Which meant no six a.m. training session with Dominic James. If he was training Marj, so be it. I had to let go.
I had to fucking let it go.
No matter what it cost me.
And it might cost me dearly, for I’d just recalled something I hadn’t shared with my best friend.
I remembered where I’d learned our code.
Chapter Sixteen
Marjorie
People didn’t appreciate the virtues of physical pain. The stabbing pain in my thigh didn’t erase the emotional upheaval, but it dulled it, made it a little easier to bear.
The red trickle of my blood meandered out of the wound and across the fair skin of my thigh. I was always mesmerized by the slowness. It was a superficial wound, and I was in no danger. I was smart enough not to go deep, not to risk hitting an artery.
Soon, it would clot on its own as it always did. I’d add some antibiotic ointment to make sure I didn’t get infected.
And that would be that.
Another cut.
Another emotional crisis averted.
So why did I feel like a complete failure?
Cutting myself was not a good thing. I knew that. Objectively anyway. I was always careful to do it in the same place—a place where no one would notice.
And no one did. Bryce hadn’t. Or if he had, he didn’t think it was anything unusual. No one else had seen that part of my thigh up close. When I wore a bikini, it was simply a little scratch. No one was the wiser.
The bleeding began to lessen, and I grabbed a tissue and blotted it up. Then, as I always did, I applied pressure until it stopped.
Perfect first aid.
No one would ever know.
No one except me.
I woke in the middle of the night.
Why? Had I heard something? I was not a light sleeper, so this was unusual. Jade used to joke about me sleeping the sleep of death.
I went to the bathroom but still had a strange feeling, so I put my robe on and walked out the bedroom door.
Something jarred in the kitchen, and I flicked on the track lighting.
Dale sat at the table, squinting against the invasion to his eyes.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing up?”
“Nothing.”
The kid wasn’t a big talker. I knew that.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix you something?”
He shook his head.
“Okay,” I said. “Mind if I sit with you?”
“It’s a free country.”
I couldn’t help a smile. He’d heard that from me. I said it a lot. I sat down in the chair next to him. “So it is.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was hoping he’d start talking, but this was Dale, after all.
“You want a drink of water?” I finally said.
He shook his head.
I rose. “All right. You let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m going back to bed.” I walked out of the kitchen.
Then, “Auntie Marj?”
I turned. Dale had never
addressed me by “auntie” before. It was always Marj. I warmed a little. “Yeah?”
“Do you think I’ll ever belong here?”
I sat back down next to him. His hand lay on the table, and I wanted to take it in my own to reassure him. Would that be too much for him? Mel had warned us to go slow with Dale, and since his issue at school recently, I’d taken that more to heart than ever.
I left his hand alone.
“You’ve always belonged here, Dale.”
“Donny fits in better than I do.”
“You’re not Donny. You might be brothers, but you’re two different people. Your dad, Uncle Joe, and Uncle Ryan are all very different, and they’re brothers.”
He nodded.
This time I touched his hand lightly but only for a few seconds. “How is school? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You haven’t seen that strange guy again?”
“No. But I wasn’t making it up. I swear.”
“We all believe you, honey.”
“Do you?”
“Of course we do.”
“Did you ever tell Donny?”
“Well…no. Your mom and dad thought it best not to worry him.”
“Yeah,” Dale said. “He’s just a little kid.”
I smiled. Donny was only three years younger than Dale.
Then my smile dropped off. I suddenly understood what he meant. Dale had protected Donny from a lot of the abuse while they were in captivity. He’d taken the brunt to spare his little brother. Donny had told Talon and Jade.
“You want me to take you back to your room?” I asked.
“No. I want to stay here. Sometimes Talon gets up and sits here with me.”
“Oh?” He’d been calling Talon “Dad” until he’d seen the stranger. He’d regressed a little, but Mel had assured us it was nothing to worry about.
“I mean Dad.”
I smiled. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you and he talk during those times?”
“No. We mostly just sit here. I think he understands me.”
More than Dale realized. The boys didn’t know what Talon had been through, and they wouldn’t until they were grown. Talon and Jade had already decided.
“You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, we’re all here.”
“I know. Sometimes I don’t want to talk.”
“That’s okay too.”
“But right now…” He stopped for a few seconds, and then went on. “Right now I have something I want to say.”
“Okay. You want me to wake up your dad?”
“No. I want to say it to you.”
I tried not to jerk in my chair from surprise. “Of course. You can tell me anything. I’ll do my best to help.”
“Okay,” he said. More silence.
“Take your time,” I finally said.
“I…”
I nodded, hoping to urge him forward but also give him time and space.
“Sometimes I miss my mom. My real mom.”
Was that all? “Honey, that’s okay. It’s completely normal.”
“I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“Because. I miss her. But it’s getting harder and harder to see her in my mind.”
My heart hurt. We didn’t have any photos of Cheri, the boys’ biological mother. None had been found in her small home. Only a few portraits of the boys at different ages. No close relatives to shed light on her either, which at the time seemed like a godsend. Talon and Jade’s petition for adoption had been simple and quick. But now… Of course the boys missed their mother. It was only natural, and a photo or two would have helped.
“Why don’t you draw a picture of her?”
“I’m no good at drawing.”
I sat silently for a few seconds, hoping some words of wisdom would come to me.
They didn’t.
So I simply sat, my thigh still painful, and watched the tormented little boy who was my nephew.
And I realized how ridiculous I’d been.
I couldn’t have Bryce Simpson. So what? This child had been through more in his ten years on earth than most face in a lifetime.
Time to stop feeling sorry for myself and take action.
Once the boys’ adoption was final and Jade had given birth, I was out of here.
Paris and Le Cordon Bleu.
And for now? I had a prospect.
Dominic James. He wasn’t Bryce, but maybe he could help take my mind off the man I truly wanted until I could leave the ranch.
If not?
Nope. Not going there.
Bryce Simpson was not in control of my thoughts or my libido.
I was.
And I was taking back the reins.
Chapter Seventeen
Bryce
Up at five a.m. to go to a training session I didn’t want. I was still serious about backing off Marj by way of learning about Dominic James, but I wanted to take a look around the trainers’ office to see if I could find the small card I’d inadvertently dropped there.
No luck. It was gone. Perhaps it had never been there. Or perhaps the janitorial staff had thrown it out when they cleaned.
Or perhaps someone had picked it up and cracked the code.
My father’s code.
Maybe it was just a simple code to amuse his son. It was hardly difficult to break.
Maybe it was more.
I tried not to think about it during the half hour that Dominic kicked my ass. So far I wasn’t feeling it, but I’d be sore as hell tomorrow.
Great. My first day as the CFO of the Steel Corporation.
When I returned, my mom was in the kitchen with Henry. He smiled when he saw me and then continued to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth. Adorable.
I had to be more of a father to this little boy. More importantly, though, I had to make sure he stayed safe. I’d been thinking about how to broach the subject of an extended vacation for my mom and Henry again.
She had a sister, Victoria Walker, who had moved to Florida with her husband, Chase. Their son, Luke, had been among my father’s victims.
Florida would be good for Mom and Henry. As much as I’d miss both of them, I truly needed them out of harm’s way. It was the only way I could function.
“So…” I began.
“What?” my mother asked.
“I know you didn’t like my vacation idea, but what about you and Henry going to Florida to stay with Aunt Vicky and Uncle Chase for a few weeks? The sunshine and warmth will be good for you both.”
“We’ve been through this, Bryce.”
“I’m going to be so busy with this new position on the ranch.”
“Which is why you need me here. You won’t eat a decent meal if I don’t fix it for you.”
“I’ve lived on my own before, Mom.” I wasn’t much of a cook, but I managed.
“But—”
“No buts. You need to get away. Florida will be perfect. In fact, if you don’t want to take Henry, I’ll hire—”
“Stop right there. You’re not leaving that baby with anyone other than me.”
“I’m making good money now. I can get the best nanny.”
“I won’t hear of it. He’s going with me.”
“Does that mean you’re going, then?”
“It means I’m thinking about it.” She set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. “Coffee?”
“Please.” I took a bite of my breakfast. I’d miss this. My mother was a great cook.
I’d known she wouldn’t go for the nanny idea, and truth be told, I wasn’t really in favor of it either. I needed both of them, not just her, out of harm’s way until Joe and I figured this whole thing out.
Best thing to do was let her mull this over without trying to convince her. The more I fought for the idea, the more she’d resist.
I’d already showered at the gym, so I figured a soak in the hot tub on the deck might be a good idea for my muscles. A preemptive
strike against the pain that was sure to surface tomorrow could only be a good thing. I quickly dressed in my trunks, went out back, and lifted the cover off the tub.
It was a crisp morning, and steam rose from the hot water. I stepped in, letting it cocoon me slowly.
True relaxation was out of the question, but I could at least fake it. The soak would help me physically if not mentally. I closed my eyes and sank down, letting the steamy water cover my shoulders.
I inhaled. Exhaled. Again. Again. Again.
Still, my thoughts haunted me, and time flew backward.
“Justin?” I asked after Taylor Johns questioned me at lunch.
“Yeah, the little freak. What happened to him?”
Justin? Why didn’t I remember? Then I did. Sort of. Our teacher had mentioned him. “Ms. Tucker said his family moved away suddenly.”
Taylor Johns—for some reason, we always called him by both his first and last names—scoffed. “Good thing. We were going to run him out of here anyway. You and Steel wouldn’t have been able to stop us.”
What? Fragments of images peppered my mind. Right. Justin. I wasn’t supposed to mention him. I wasn’t sure why, but my father had said it was important. “I told you we’d crush your skulls if you bothered him again. He’s gone now, and if you ever mention him again, you’ll get that skull crushing, Taylor Johns.”
Joe appeared at my side. “He’s right. Don’t mention Justin again.”
We were both bigger than Taylor Johns. He shuddered slightly, trying to act cool.
“I got no beef with either of you. But Justin Valente better never show his face here again.”
I jerked upward, the warm water splashing out of the tub. Valente. Justin’s last name was Valente. I’d been thinking it was Spanish.
This was good. Italian surnames were less common than Spanish in Colorado. It was a long shot, but a lot better than if his name had been Smith.
Where had that memory come from?
As far as I could recall, Taylor Johns and his band of miscreants had never mentioned Justin to Joe or me again. Or to anyone else, for that matter.