by Tara Thomas
“There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep knowing all this is down here.” Bea eyed the boxes. “Besides, I took that nap earlier.”
“True, but you did have a trying day. We both did.”
“You don’t have to stay up with me, if you don’t want to,” she said, knowing full well he wasn’t about to leave her alone to go through the boxes. “You can go on to bed if you want.”
“Not going to happen.” He pointed to the other box. “You want to start on that box while I take this one?”
“Definitely. It’ll go faster that way.”
Bea opened the box closest to her and got down on her knees next to it so she could examine the contents better. It looked as if someone had emptied a filing cabinet into the box. As far as she could tell, everything was in unlabeled file folders.
She took out the one in what appeared to be the front of the box and opened it. After reading the first few papers, she flipped through the rest in the folder. Nothing she was finding made sense.
“This isn’t right,” she said.
Knox looked up from his file. “What’s wrong?”
“When did Mr. Brock die?”
“Umm, seven years ago, I think. I’m not exactly sure.”
“But it was before your parents died, right?”
“Definitely before.”
“This folder contains newspaper clippings about the plane crash your parents died in.” She sighed in frustration and slapped the folder down on top off the box. “This can’t be Mr. Brock’s stuff, it looks like it could be Tilly’s mother’s.”
“Maybe his stuff is farther back or mixed in,” Knox said.
He was probably right, and she told herself what she was looking for was there, she just needed to look closer. She put the newspaper clippings down and was getting ready to go on to the next folder when a handwritten note that looked to be a journal entry fell out from inside the stack of newspapers.
She frowned as she read it.
Mr. and Mrs. Benedict left for the Charleston airport together on the morning of April 10. This upset him for some reason and he let his gentlemanly facade down. He got agitated and said Mrs. Benedict was supposed to be staying at home to take care of her sons. He then left to make a phone call. When he returned, his face had lost all color and he wouldn’t speak to anyone. He left and didn’t come back to the office for a week. Rumors say he spent most of that time drunk.
She flipped it over, but there was nothing there. “Knox?” she asked and held up the note. “Do you recognize this handwriting?”
He squinted and looked at it. “It might be Mama Ann’s.”
“Mama Ann? Do I know her?”
“I don’t think so. She was Tilly’s mom.”
“Was?”
He grimaced as he replied, “Breast cancer.”
He didn’t have to say anything else. Those two words said it all. She would have to go and talk with Tilly later to tell her how sorry she was about her mother. Yet the fact remained, she had no idea why notes about the Benedict plane crash would be in a box with her late husband’s papers.
“Here.” She handed him the note. “Read it all.”
He took the paper and read over it, the frown never left his face. “I wonder who he is?”
“Was your mother not to go with your father on that trip?”
Knox narrowed his eyes as if thinking. “I can’t remember. Obviously what I remember most about that trip is the crash itself and not so much what preceded it.”
“How long after your parents took off did the plane crash?”
Knox stood up and walked over to where she was working. He got the top and placed on the box. He didn’t look angry, just sad. “I can’t remember. It was one of those things I tried not to think about.”
“We need to see if Kip knows. The fact that your parents are somehow involved makes me think someone’s after the entire family.”
His face grew grim as he pondered her words. He sat down beside her and took the lid off the box. “It’s here somewhere,” he decided. “We just have to find it.”
She put her hand on his upper arm in a silent show of support.
“Maybe files got put in backward.” He pulled the last folder in the box. A smile crept across his face as he read. “This is more like it.”
“What?”
“Copies of Mr. Brock’s datebook.”
Encouraged, she reached for the next to the last folder and opened it to find copies of e-mails. The first few appeared to be nothing other than Mr. Brock asking for monthly reports and following up with several European executives. All in all, not the most entertaining or helpful. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why anyone felt them important enough to save.
She looked at the box, sitting there, stuffed with papers, and not too far away sat the box Knox had been going through previously. It would take days to completely go through the boxes. But she didn’t know how long she had until another attack was made.
With renewed determination, she turned to the next piece of paper in her stack and was stopped short by what she saw. It wasn’t an e-mail at all, but rather a handwritten note. She read through it quickly.
It was addressed to Ann, and much of it were the typical things a husband and wife would discuss. However, the next to the last paragraph had a different tone:
* * *
I know you enjoy spending time at the Benedicts’. I can’t go into details here, but I ask that you be careful while you’re there. I’ve overhead some alarming information this week. We’ll talk when I get home.
* * *
Bea shuffled through the rest of the papers, desperately wanting to find another handwritten note, but only finding work e-mails.
“Are you serious?” she asked no one in particular. “You give me handwritten notes about an unknown man getting drunk and you don’t tell me why Ann has to be careful at Benedict House?”
“What?” Knox looked up from what he was doing.
She passed him the note. “Next to last paragraph.”
He read it quickly. “Is that all?”
“All I’ve found so far.” She waved toward the boxes. “Talk about your needle in a haystack.”
“We have to approach this as if every paper was put in the box for a reason. This might all be tied together.”
Bea snorted. “I have a feeling the reason most of the papers were put into the box was to hide what’s really important. Why else would you have the personal note in the middle of spreadsheets?”
“What type of spreadsheets?” Knox looked up in interest.
“I don’t know. Monthly reports about something. That’s what the e-mail paper clipped to them says.” She picked one up to show him and frowned. “This can’t be right. The e-mail and spreadsheet have different dates.” She looked at two more. “They all do.”
“Let me see.” He held his hand out.
She handed him one. “You have the e-mail from Mr. Brock and then a spreadsheet almost three years later.”
She looked at the box and the way it was packed. Something was off. You didn’t haphazardly put together documents.
“I think it was done that way on purpose,” she said. “So that anyone looking quickly would think what I did and just think they’re old reports.”
“They aren’t reports.” Knox said, picking up another set of mismatched papers. “They’re an itemization of items paid.”
“Do they mean anything to you?”
“Not without context. Whoever kept the list used a code so anyone looking wouldn’t see the payee.” He slid a sheet to her. “See the company named Finition Noire?”
“Yes.”
“It has a star beside it, yet Office Tango doesn’t. I know we used to contract with Office Tango, but I’ve never heard of Finition Noire.”
“So the star means it’s a code? Finition Noire? Black Finish?”
He gave a hum of agreement. “And it looks like someone paid them a lot of money.” His fing
er trailed up to find the date. “Around the time my parents were killed,” he finished in a whisper.
* * *
Tom waited impatiently for The Gentleman to call him back, fuming the entire time. It was times like this he needed to be able to call the man instead of requesting a call through a third person. It was a ridiculous system and would lead to trouble one day. He had half a mind to tell him himself, but of course when he called, moments later, he only had one thing on his mind.
“They have paperwork, boss,” Tom said. “Brock’s wife had it in storage.”
Mumbled curses filled the line. “How much do they know? And who knows it?”
“Right now it’s Bea and Knox, but I’m sure they’ll tell the others. Probably tell that policewoman, too.” He took a deep breath before telling him the rest. “They have the company name.”
This time, there were no curses, only a dangerous silence and then, “I need to destroy them all at once.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Shut up and let me think.”
Tom didn’t say anything more. Finally The Gentleman spoke. “I need to plan the takedown. While I do, make sure Bea doesn’t forget about us.”
CHAPTER 5
She was sitting on the beach with Knox. He’d said something funny to make her laugh when suddenly, she couldn’t breathe anymore.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He was back.
Her hands flew to her neck, frantically trying to pry his fingers away. Expecting flesh, she was startled when she felt leather.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
A watch! His watch was what made the ticking sound. She had to see it. Somehow she knew that if she could see the watch, she’d know who he was.
Desperate now, she flailed. Twisting. Turning. Kicking.
“Bea. Bea.” The only noise was the sound of Knox, gently saying her name. “You had a nightmare. It’s okay. I’m here.”
She blinked several times and took a deep breath. And another. She felt her neck, but there was nothing there and only Knox was in the room. She glanced around in momentary confusion. She’d had a dream and there was something important she needed to remember.
“Are you okay?” Knox asked, his forehead lined with worry. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and the dream disappeared completely.
It felt so good to be in his arms. She burrowed deeper into them. “I am now.”
He kissed her again. His lips lingering just a bit longer as he stroked her upper arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You frightened me.” He ran his hands over her shoulders in a soothing motion that also warmed her body.
She closed her eyes and nodded while leaning into his touch. “I’m much more okay when you touch me.”
“In that case.” His hands drifted from her shoulders downward to her waist. He slowly teased the thin material of her pajama shirt up so he was stroking bare skin. His hands inched their way up slowly and came to rest on her breasts. He flicked her nipple.
“Still okay?” he asked, placing his hands in a spot where she knew he could feel her heart race.
“As long as you don’t stop.” She leaned into his hands, wanting more of his touch. She tilted her head, exposing her neck for him, and willing him to touch her there to erase the memories of the dream.
“Oh trust me, I don’t plan to stop for a long, long time.” He lowered his head, just a bit and nibbled. She moaned. “And maybe not even then.”
She ran her hands over the expanse of his back, delighting in the way his muscles rippled underneath her touch. So hard. How was it possible for him to be so gentle when he’d toned his body so much? “I could touch you forever.”
She bet she could. As it was, she never got tired of the feel of his skin, his smell, or any part of his body, actually.
“Let’s not stop now, then.” He pulled away and though she knew what was coming, her eyes never left him as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head and let hit drop to the floor.
He was gorgeous. Every rock-hard, lickable inch. She had to have her hands on him and she wasted no time sitting up and resting her palms against the hard planes of his chest. He sucked in a breath.
“There’s not a force on heaven or earth that can make me stop right now.” She moved her hands up to his shoulders and doing so brought her face closer to his chest. She leaned forward and licked him.
“Damn, Bea,” he said in a partial moan.
“You like?” she asked.
“I assume that’s a rhetorical question?” He took her hand and pressed against his growing erection. “Just in case it wasn’t, here’s the answer.”
She loved the way she was able to arouse him. Loved that she could move him with just a touch or kiss. It was only fair—after all, he did the same to her.
Since he was the one who had moved her hand down, she thought it only proper that she left it there. She dropped the other hand to drift toward his waist. She slipped her hand under the elastic and he hissed as her fingers brushed his length.
“I don’t have to ask if you like that,” she said.
She tried to scoot down, wanting to taste him, but he stopped her. “Not right now.”
“But I want to taste you.”
“Later,” he promised in a growl. “Right now I need to be inside you too badly for you to have your mouth on me.”
Since she was about insane with the need to have him inside her as well, she wasn’t going to argue that point. She sat back up, and drew her shirt over her head.
He caressed her and each stroke, lick, and kiss heightened her desire for him.
His fingers danced along the edge of her waistband. “Why are you still wearing pants?”
“Because I want you to take them off.”
Her words unleashed something within him. He nearly growled as he pushed her back on the bed and grabbed the waist of her pants, stopping only long enough to undo them before jerking them down with one hard motion. He tossed them aside, not looking to see where they landed.
He moved closer, pushing her knees apart, and fitting himself in between them. He rubbed his hand along her slit. The simple motion had her groaning in need.
“So ready for me,” he said, feeling her wetness. “Good thing, I don’t think I can wait another minute.”
She lifted her hips. “Then don’t.”
He took himself in hand and lined himself up with her. She closed her eyes but he stopped her. “Watch.”
She looked down where he just brushed her entrance.
“Watch,” he repeated again.
She didn’t feel as if she could look away even if she wanted to, as he slowly pushed inside her. She sucked in a breath; it had been so long, and he was so big. He went slowly—she knew it was his attempt to allow her to adjust to his size—but never stopped. He kept moving inward, pressing on, deeper and deeper inside her, until he was all the way in.
“Jesus, Bea,” he said in a strained voice. His forehead was dotted with sweat, a sure sign he was holding on to his control by mere thread.
She waited for him to move, knowing he needed to by the way his muscles strained. Yet he remained still.
“You said you could look at me forever,” he murmured. “I could stay inside you forever. Just like this. The feel of you tight and hot around me, the way you accept me deep inside your body. And you make me just want to go deeper and deeper until there’s no us because we are one.”
Then he started to move slowly. So slowly, she thought she’d go mad with the feel of it.
“And then I think no.” He continued his leisurely pace. “This is what I could do forever. This slow move-in-and-out of your body. Barely doing anything, knowing the entire time all we both want is for me to move faster, but denying ourselves for the moment. Knowing it’s coming, but not rushing to get there. Making us both wait.”
He leaned forwa
rd, pressing her farther into the mattress. She loved how his weight pushed against her, but she wanted him even deeper. She shifted her hips, angling them upward to allow him better access and when he didn’t move, she hooked her legs around his waist and pulled him close that way.
He slipped in another inch and she held on to him tightly, letting him pull out only the slightest bit before she pressed her heels against his backside. He lifted up on his arms and looked down on her.
“Know what else I like?” he asked.
She shook her head, not sure she had the ability to speak.
He grinned and then flipped them over so she was on top.
“I like watching you ride me. See how you get yourself off on my cock.” He put a hand on either side of her waist. “Ride me, Bea. Use me however you wish.”
She felt powerful astride him and the change in position had shifted him inside her. But still it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She rose up slightly and rocked her hips. Pleased with the hiss he gave in response, she switched to gyrating her hips.
They worked together in unison. He would thrust upward right as she would move her hips down. Each of them striving for the other’s pleasure. For several long minutes the room was quiet except for the sound of their bodies moving against each other and their shallow breaths. His hands traveled all of her body, caressing, teasing, loving. She lowered herself and kissed him deeply. Still he moved within her, his thrusts never stopping.
As her release approached, she moved faster, rode him harder. He was just as desperate, almost frantic in the way he pounded into her, like he couldn’t get deep enough. They moved together as if this was the first and only time they would ever be together. She banished the thought as soon as it popped into her head inside, choosing instead to focus on him. He was magnificent in his pleasure, in the way he loved her.
She bent low for another kiss and this time he lifted a hand to hold her head in place as he plundered her mouth. In that moment she knew she’d do whatever it took to keep him safe. He was everything to her and she couldn’t imagine a life without him.
She told herself to stop, that she was being morbid. Even so, when he pushed inside her with one last hard thrust, emotion swept over her so intense, she couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks.