She hadn’t told anyone. Not until she mentioned it to Tennyson tonight. Even then, she’d dismissed it. She knew how it would sound: crazy. Voicing it out loud would make people think she shouldn’t be on this tour.
Sometimes she thought she shouldn’t be on this tour, that she should check herself back into the therapy center. But this work had helped her more than therapy. Staying busy had helped her.
After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, her eyelids finally pulled downward, begging her to rest. Dreamlike memories claimed her, and in an instant, she was back in the hotel suite with her parents.
She’d just gotten back from a party hosted by her dad’s friend. Her dad loved a good party, especially when there was an opportunity to network. That night, they’d gone to the home of Walter Boyce, a shipping mogul. Dad said their presence there wasn’t business, just old friends getting together. Mallory had been surrounded by wealthy and influential people, yet it all felt empty for the first time.
She’d been glad to get back to the hotel room, even though the fight she’d had with her boyfriend, Jason, still pressed heavily on her. She slowly walked across the marble floor of her room, her heels echoing across the space.
She could hear the waves lapping the beach outside. Smell the lilies on her nightstand. She ran her hand across her silky bedsheets, and for a moment, she felt like a queen.
Even from her room, she heard her mom and dad arguing in the living area. Strands of the conversation drifted in to her.
We’re on vacation, honey. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.
The company can run itself for a few days without you.
No amount of money is worth this stress.
It was a familiar argument: Her mom had wanted her dad to stop working so much and to enjoy himself. Her dad had insisted that his making more money should make them happy.
Mallory moved closer to the door for a better look at what was going on. Her mom opened her mouth, about to continue their debate, when Dad swept her into his arms and twirled her in an impromptu dance across the floor. Her mother instantly relaxed in his embrace, even letting out a little giggle.
Her father had a way of doing that. It was what had made him a good businessman. Or so Mallory had heard. He would woo people and pull them out of any negative thoughts, putting a positive spin on the worst situations.
Mallory slipped away from the doorway as they continued to glide across the room. If only all her problems could disappear with a two-step across a marble floor. Her grandfather’s death had opened her eyes to all that was wrong in her life—starting with the poor decisions she’d been making lately.
Jason had just added one more problem to her ever-increasing list tonight. They’d gotten into a fight, and Jason had stormed off. She hadn’t seen him in four hours. Even though it was nearly midnight, he still wasn’t back or in his room.
Why had she ever convinced her parents to allow her to bring him on this vacation? Probably because Jason had given her a guilt trip. He’d wanted to come, for some strange reason. The two had been drifting apart for a while now, and Mallory knew it was time to end their relationship once and for all. No more on again, off again.
When she got back to DC, she’d make some changes. She’d forget about that reality show she’d been talking to a producer about. She’d find new friends. She’d get a real job instead of living off her family’s wealth.
Yes, that was what she’d do. This trip to the Caribbean had been eye-opening on more than one level. She’d been living with blinders on, and it was time to change things. She would do it in memory of her grandfather.
She was twenty-four. Her life was slipping past, and she had nothing to show for it except a few mentions in the gossip section of the local newspaper and the best wardrobe of anyone in her social circle. Was that the legacy she wanted to leave behind? No.
She slipped her necklace off, ready to change out of her pale blue evening gown into her pajamas, when a noise caught her ear.
She paused, trying to identify the sound. Had it come from outside her window? It was almost a rustling.
Or was it a whisper? A patter of footsteps?
Her dad had paid for a private patio area, complete with a hot tub and soaking pool. Had another hotel guest crept into the area to use it? Or maybe Jason was back and trying to sneak inside.
That’s what it most likely was.
She started to take a step that way, ready to confront Jason, when something crashed.
Her heart shuddered a moment.
Her mother screamed a horrifying scream that left a hollow pit in Mallory’s stomach. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.
Her dad shouted, “No!”
Blood pounded in Mallory’s ears.
Instinctively, she ran toward her door. Before she reached it, men wearing black masks and militia gear rushed into the living room. She tried to count them all. There were at least eight. Maybe more.
Mallory backed up, nearly stumbling.
One of the men raised his gun.
A scream caught on Mallory’s lips. The gun fired, and her mom collapsed to the ground. A pool of blood formed around her.
“No!” The room swirled around Mallory.
Men rushed toward her. Surrounded her. Took her captive.
Her gaze shot toward her dad. He stood by Mom, despair clear in the slump of his shoulders. His eyes flashed over to her. Was that an apology there?
“Dad!”
A man raised a gun toward her father’s back.
Then a black bag was jerked over Mallory’s head. Men shouted in Spanish.
She was going to die, she realized. A cry of despair escaped from somewhere, guttural and deep.
She had no idea she was in for something much worse.
CHAPTER 6
Mallory awoke with a start.
It took her a moment to remember where she was. She was in the hotel. In Norfolk. On tour.
Safe. She was safe.
She was no longer imprisoned by the sickly sweet decorations of her room at the Caribbean compound where she’d been held: the Victorian lace, the four-poster bed, the flowers that had been delivered every day.
She couldn’t lie in bed any longer. Her feet touched the carpeted floor, and she threw on a sweatshirt, deciding to get some water. She should be able to do so quietly and not disturb anyone.
After grabbing her phone and turning on its flashlight, she crept from the bedroom, trying not to disturb Tennyson. He lay on the couch with a blanket pulled over him and a pillow tucked under his head.
Quietly, she reached the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. As she started back toward her room, she saw a wallet beside the kitchen sink. It was Tennyson’s, she realized. He’d left it open, and in the top plastic credit-card sleeve was a picture of a beautiful brunette.
Mallory shifted and shined her light on the wrinkled photo. The woman in it almost had an exotic look about her with big brown eyes that matched glossy black hair, a wide smile that hinted she’d faced the hard knocks in life and laughed at them, and olive skin that was without a blemish. Something about her looked smart, and the light in her eyes indicated an adventurous spirit.
Who was she? Tennyson’s girlfriend? His wife?
She didn’t know anything about his personal life. A guy like him was certain to be grabbed up by now. He didn’t, however, wear a wedding ring.
Her throat felt unusually tight as she stepped away. But before she did, something else caught her eye.
The printouts of the e-mails from Nameless. Grant must have made them for Tennyson. Though she’d read most of them before, various words and phrases jumped out at her now, and her lungs froze.
I CAN HELP.
WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT.
YOU NEED ME.
I NEED YOU.
The words made her shudder.
“You shouldn’t read those.”
The deep voice startled her. She gasped as she glanced over a
t the couch and saw Tennyson sitting up.
“You were sleeping,” she whispered. Her cheeks flushed, and she put the papers down. Only they missed the counter and fluttered all over the carpet instead.
She knelt down and began gathering them. Before she could blink, Tennyson was beside her, helping. His nearness sent a shiver up her spine.
Until the memory of Dante hit her like a slap in the face and made her forget everything else.
Her mind traveled back in time to the day she found some papers Dante had left in his room. She’d begun looking through them, but when Dante had caught her, he’d put Mallory in solitary confinement for a week. Being in that small room by herself had nearly been the end of her.
“It’s my job to hear everything.” Tennyson continued to help her pick up the avalanche of papers on the floor. Even wearing flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt, he still looked strong and capable. “I can get these.”
“No, I made the mess. I can get them.” She grabbed a few more papers. “Besides, I was quiet.”
“Like I said, if you’d sneaked past, then I wouldn’t be very good at my job.” He grabbed the last e-mail.
As he did, their hands brushed, and a jolt of electricity rushed through her.
Not good. Not good at all.
Shivers up her spine? Jolts of electricity?
Her body might be reacting one way, but her mind told her to keep her distance. That’s exactly what she planned on doing.
She swallowed hard, her throat burning. That was when she realized how neurotic she was acting—again. Tennyson must think she was a nut job.
The world might think she had everything together after the tragedy that had occurred in her life, but she couldn’t fool the man who’d rescued her. Tennyson had seen her at her lowest. Now he’d see behind the veil again and realize just how damaged and bruised she really was.
She let out a long breath and sat back, leaning against the kitchen counter and trying to compose herself. “I’m sorry for waking you. I just wanted to get some water.”
He eyed her, clearly trying to assess her state of mind. “You shouldn’t be reading those e-mails. I know I just said it, but it’s worth repeating.”
Something about the way he looked at her made heat rush through her. Why was she having this reaction to him? It was ridiculous. She felt like an innocent schoolgirl with a crush, when in reality, romance was the last thing she wanted—on so many different levels.
She glanced back down at the e-mails. The papers trembled in her hands. “Why’s that?”
“They spawn fear.”
She put the printouts on the floor and slid her hands beneath her, trying to hide just how anxious she was feeling. “How can I get over my fears if I don’t face them?”
He tilted his head and sat down on the floor, also against the counter but a good two feet away. “True.”
“Should I be worried?” She hardly wanted to hear his answer.
An unreadable expression crossed his face. He reached up for the bottle of water she’d left on the counter and handed it to her. “It’s hard to say at this point.”
“What’s your personal opinion?” She placed the bottle on the floor for later.
His jaw flexed. “Those e-mails make me uncomfortable.”
“They make me uncomfortable, too.” She tried to read his expression but couldn’t. He was all hard lines and military tough.
“You have no idea who they’re from?”
“No, should I?”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily. There are a few comments in those messages that made me wonder if this person knew you before everything that happened.”
She drew in a quick breath at the idea, her mind swirling again. “I never even thought about it.”
He frowned. “Is there anyone from your past who might send them? An obsessive ex-boyfriend maybe?”
She searched her thoughts, wanting an answer. But she had none. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I’ve lost touch with most of those people.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? That surprises me. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened when you returned home? I’ve thought about it since I left you at the hospital.”
The memories hit her like an icy splash of water in the face. “My father’s former stepdaughter eventually came and got me.”
“Your father’s former stepdaughter?”
The recollections churned inside her. “She’s a stepdaughter from an earlier marriage. She didn’t have anything to do with my father after the divorce. Didn’t have anything to do with me ever. Until I returned from the dead. At first, I thought she really wanted to help.”
“And then?”
“I discovered that the only reason she did was because she wanted my family’s money.”
“No . . .”
She nodded, her stomach turning at the thought. She drew her knees close. “She had actually filed a motion with a judge to have me officially declared dead.”
“What?”
“She and her husband, Arthur, wanted to fight for their right to get more of my family’s money. If I was officially dead, then that was one less obstacle for her to get through. I believe the law states that a person has to be dead in absentia for seven years before the money will go to the next in line.”
“What happened?”
“I put a major kink in her plans, to say the least, when I came back alive. Not only that, she was just so money hungry that I stopped feeling sorry for her. I didn’t make a big deal about what she’d already spent to supposedly ‘take care’ of my family’s house. But she wasn’t getting another dime.”
“It sounds like she acted foolishly.”
“It wasn’t even that I wanted the money. But I decided to put it into Verto. It seemed better than funding Narnie to take lavish vacations.”
“Has she always been like that?”
“According to my mother, both Narnie and her mother were really all about money. She suspected that’s the only reason that marriage ever happened. Most people would say my mom had no room to talk—she was so much younger than my dad. But I really believe that my mom loved my dad. She was involved with a lot of charities. She wasn’t the typical socialite who went shopping all the time and blew through money.”
“That’s got to be hard to stomach—these people who popped back into your life just for the money. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s better I find out now who only likes me for what I can do for them, right?”
He shifted, bending his knee and casually resting his arm on it. “So you’ve been alone since then?”
She shrugged, not wanting him to feel sorry for her. She had a lot to be thankful for—even though she was still working through her issues. “Not totally alone. I have Grant.”
Tennyson studied her face a moment. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“He’s been a constant for me. That’s more than I can say about most people. Thankfully my hope isn’t in people.”
She had strong doubts anyone would truly love her again. She’d always be the rich girl who was sold into human slavery. Human nature would allow very few people to see past that. She had so much baggage that she was destined to travel alone.
She was about to flee back to her room when a noise caught her ear. She pivoted to look toward the sound.
She expected to see Grant emerging from his room. They’d probably woken him up from his slumber.
But his door didn’t open.
Another one did.
The door to the hotel room.
CHAPTER 7
Tennyson jumped to his feet.
Someone was trying to get into the hotel room. The only thing that had stopped them was the chain lock over the door.
He sprinted toward the entryway, drawing his gun as he did so.
The intruder must have heard him coming because the chain went slack.
Tennyson quickly undid the lock and darted into the hallway jus
t in time to see someone disappear into the stairway.
“Stay in the room,” he yelled to Mallory. “Don’t open the door for anyone except me. Understand?”
He took off after the man. By the time he reached the stairway, the man was a good three floors down.
Tennyson flew down the stairs. But the man he was chasing was fast. Really fast.
The intruder’s steps slowed for a moment. A masked face stared up. Brown eyes assessed the situation.
Torres? Was that Torres?
The man had the right height and build. But Torres wasn’t the type to do this kind of thing himself. He’d send his underlings to do his dirty work.
Unless Mallory was so important that he wanted to handle her himself.
He only had two more flights until the bottom.
But the man suddenly disappeared.
Tennyson paused. He didn’t even hear his footsteps anymore.
The man had gotten off at a floor. Most likely the second floor.
Tennyson rushed down the stairs until he reached that level. He shoved the door open, ready to continue the chase, but he stopped cold instead.
Nightlife came alive around him. Late-night patrons were drinking around a bar and tables. Some people danced. A deejay played in the corner.
He glanced around. No one looked out of place. But it was hard to see anything with the dim lighting, loud music, and crowd.
He grabbed a waiter going past. “Did you just see a man run in here?”
The waiter stared back at him like he’d lost his mind. “I didn’t see anyone.”
Tennyson released his arm and began weaving through the crowd, looking for anyone sweaty or out of breath. He examined each face.
No one looked or acted suspicious.
The man had gotten away, he realized.
Tennyson wasn’t sure how he’d managed to escape, but the bigger question was: What had he planned on doing if he got inside?
The next morning, they headed to Raleigh, North Carolina. Mallory would be doing a book signing there, and later on, she’d meet with various city officials and give a talk for Verto.
The chilling turn of the past few days continued to haunt her thoughts. As if everything else wasn’t bad enough, why had someone tried to break in last night? It just didn’t make sense.
Distorted Page 6