by JA Huss
“Mr. Corporate,” he says, taking out a notepad from his suit coat pocket. “Do you know his real name?”
“Um.” I laugh. “Weston Conrad. The guy I’ve known for ten years.”
“And how well do you really think you know him?” Liam is smiling like he’s got a secret.
“Look, if you’ve got something to say, then say it. Corporate and I aren’t besties. We’re not partners, or hell, even friends from my perspective. I don’t give a fuck who he is. But you obviously think I should, so let’s hear all your little secrets about him and hopefully that will explain away your bizarre stalking and I won’t have to kill you over it.”
Liam narrows his eyes, wondering if that’s a threat, a joke, or a promise.
Damn, I hadn’t realized how good it felt to be the bad guy since I’ve been hanging out with Cindy doing her cute little detective jobs. But I sort of miss these moments.
“Well, his name isn’t Weston Conrad, for one. And for two, he stole something from me a very long time ago. Something I want back.”
“I’ll ask this again. And I’ll try to be as concise as I can so you will stop wasting my time. What does this have to do with me?”
“I’d thought you’d like to know who set you up back in college. Forgive me,” he says, standing up and buttoning his coat, “for interrupting the nooner you were about to have with your secretary.”
“Sit down,” I command.
“Oh, so you’re interested all of a sudden?” But Liam unbuttons his suit coat and sits. Smiling like a cat with a canary.
“Corporate was accused too. It makes no sense that he was the one who set us up.” But I have always had a problem with Corporate. I mean, I have always had a problem with Romantic too. But Corporate, he never did add up. Romantic has a pretty paper-trailed past leading from point A to point B in a nice straight line.
Corporate’s past is like a dot-to-dot puzzle that I could never quite figure out. Match and Five and I worked on it relentlessly ten years ago when these charges came up. And even though Five has got to be one of the most talented hackers in modern day that I know of, we came up with very little before he went to boarding school as a teenager. Which means part of his past was hidden off the record for a reason.
“Well, he did set you up. He did. And I have all the proof and all the details and you will get every bit of it… once he’s gone.”
“Gone?” I ask. “You want me to kill him?” I laugh.
“I need him delivered to me alive so I can get this information out of him, but your run-of-the-mill accident will suffice once that business is taken care of.”
“I’m not a professional killer, Liam. You know this.” I have no problem killing people, but it’s not what I do. I like people to think it is—keeps them scared. Distant. But I don’t kill people for money, for fuck’s sake. That’s insane. My mother would never respect me if I was a paid assassin.
“You fix things. I need a fix.”
“I only fix things if I have all the details.”
He reaches into his pocket again, pulls out a neatly folded stack—kind of thick stack—of legal-sized papers. “And here’s our problem,” he says, grabbing the Mont Blanc pen off my desk and tapping it on the wood. “I have those details, and you can have them too, if you sign this non-disclosure agreement.”
I laugh. Kinda loud. “First of all,” I say, “I don’t sign anything without a lawyer looking it over first. And second of all, I’m never signing that, no matter what. So if you’d like to pay for my services, it’s going to be done with my own standard non-disclosure agreement or it won’t be done at all.”
“Fair enough,” Liam says, folding the wad of legal papers back up and placing them back in his coat pocket. “I’ll sign your agreement.”
He’s setting me up. I’m one hundred percent sure of it. But he does have my attention, so I get up, go to the file cabinet, and pull out the standard non-disclosure agreement I have with all my clients.
I slap the single piece of paper down on my desk in front of Liam and take my seat back behind it.
Liam signs.
I drag the paper over to my side, sign, then put the pen down and steeple my fingers under my chin. “Let’s hear it.”
“Weston Conrad isn’t his real name. The Conrads aren’t even his parents.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Go on.”
“He’s mixed up with a girl right now. Someone from his past. Do you remember her? Victoria Arias? They were dating when that charge came against the five of you.”
“Kind of. Dark, right? Pretty? Wild?”
“Yes.” Liam nods, smiling big. “I’d call her more than pretty, though. But yes. That’s her. They broke up—”
“All the time,” I say, recalling that little volatile relationship with ease, now that her name has been mentioned.
“But she is the reason you got in all that trouble, Paxton. Her. And him. They are the reason. And while I could really care less about Miss Arias—she has her own keeper who will take care of business on that end—I very much need Mr. Conrad to understand that I have not forgotten what he did to me.”
“And you want me to teach him that lesson?”
“Just get him out of the country. That’s all I ask. I have a team of people ready to take over once that happens. You won’t even have to dirty your hands.”
“Other than setting him up?”
“Correct.”
“Why me?” But I know the answer before he says it.
“Because Conrad trusts you. Regardless of whether or not you are besties, as you put it. You’re part of his inner circle.”
“And he set me up. That makes zero sense.”
“Oh, but it does. You just need more information. Information I will provide once he’s out of the country.”
I pick up my pen and tap the desk, thinking it over.
“I told you that first time I called. Your Mister friends are becoming a problem. That whole debacle with Allen and Perfect could’ve been a PR nightmare.”
Mac.
“And now your Romantic friend is directing a lot of attention back to the five of you.”
Nolan.
“Corporate needs to pay his dues. He owes me. And once I tell you the truth about him, you’ll want your revenge as well.”
West.
It’s like a checklist, isn’t it? One by one, we are all being drawn back in. “I’ll think about it.”
“You have one night, Mr. Vance. One night before I take things into my own hands and deal with the situation another way.” He stands, buttons his coat jacket. Says, “You won’t like that way, I assure you. So I’ll expect a text this evening saying you’ll accept my offer and an outline of how you will do as I ask. Use the same number I used that first time I called.”
He walks out, closing my office door behind him.
I sit for a moment, then remember that Cindy came back and ducked under the desk, just as I pushed the intercom instead of the “do not disturb” button on the phone.
She stands up and looks at me through the glass doors of my office. I open the door and ask, “Did you catch all that?”
She nods. “What’s going on?”
“I have no clue. But that shit that went down with Nolan last week was not cool, man. I might not like that asshole all that much, but he had nothing to do with anything that happened to us back in school. I know it for a fact. I saw his dirt and that’s all it is. It’s dirty as fuck, for sure. But it’s got nothing to do with the rape charge.”
“So it really was Weston Conrad who set you up?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”
“What are you gonna do?” She hesitates. “You’re really going to work with that guy? Pax? He’s unstable, clearly. He’s fucking creepy.”
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna pretend to think about it for a few hours, then send him a text saying no.”
She smiles. “Good.
Good. I know this is the right answer. You need to stay away from him.”
“Let’s take the day off, huh? Go back home. Grill some steaks, make some stupid girly drinks, and just forget about Liam Henry.”
Cindy smiles. “That’s definitely the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
I try not to be silent and introspective as we start the drive back up to Malibu, but I don’t have to try too hard because Cindy is chatty enough. It kind of sucks that she’s part of this. That I dragged her into something that’s got nothing to do with her. Especially since Liam already saw her, so even if I wanted to keep her out of this whole mess, it wouldn’t be easy to pull off now.
Girlfriends are dangerous.
Match knows this better than anyone. It’s why he fucks them and leaves them as fast as he can.
Girlfriends are nothing but collateral damage waiting to happen.
Chapter Nineteen - Cindy
“So what do you think?”
“Hmmm?” Pax says as he changes lanes. The traffic on the 405 is horrendous. And we are still a long way from Malibu.
“My detective story?”
“Oh,” he says, braking hard as he tries to maneuver into the next lane.
“Where are you going?”
“We’re taking PCH. I can’t handle this shit anymore. I really need to think about moving.”
“Moving where?”
“Huh?”
“God, are you even listening to me?”
Pax smiles and shoots me a wink. “Sorry. I’m just preoccupied with road rage at the moment.” He swerves over, then again, and takes the off ramp at El Segundo. “I love your story. I can totally see you in one of those sexy pencil skirts with the thick-heeled pumps and your hair up in a forties do. You’d rock that shit, Sugar.”
“Thanks,” I say, blushing. “You’d rock a trench coat and fedora too. So I got the idea when I was seven and my parents took this murder mystery train up in the mountains.”
“Mountains? I thought you lived on a farm? Your dad’s place comes up as Severance, Colorado.”
Shit. Why am I so stupid?
“Well, yeah,” I say, recovering quickly. “But you know, the mountains aren’t too far away. We’d go there sometimes.”
“Don’t they have one of those murder mystery trains in Canon City? I think I remember Match telling me about it once. That’s pretty far from Severance, right?”
Damn, he’s really up on his Colorado geography. “That’s the one,” I say, nervously swallowing. Does he know more than I think he does? Is he testing me to see if I’ll lie? And did I ever tell him I was from Severance? Nope. I’m pretty sure I didn’t.
He was checking up on you again this afternoon, Cindy. Duh! You’re doing good pretending this Liam shit didn’t rattle your world. Keep going…
“Asshole,” Pax says, flipping the finger to some guy who cuts him off. “I’m definitely getting out of California first chance I get. Sorry,” he says, looking at me. “Go on. The murder mystery train?”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping my suspicions. I think he’s just distracted with driving. I’m being paranoid. “So they were all in costume, you know?”
“Yeah, I can totally picture it. How old were you? Did you have blonde pigtails?”
I smile, remembering that day. It was my parents’ anniversary. But if Oliver was talking about it once, he might’ve mentioned that. So I don’t bring it up. “I was young, I don’t remember how old. But I was obsessed with Humphrey Bogart movies after that.”
“Ha,” Pax says. “Oliver likes those too. Must be a Colorado thing.”
I don’t move. He knows. He has to know.
“Are we talking about it?” I ask.
“What? Why? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you?”
“No,” he says. “No. We’re forgetting, remember?”
OK, yeah. I’m paranoid. “So anyway, I was obsessed with the old movies and I started dressing up and stuff. My mom’s not into that kind of thing. Vintage class, and all that. She’s more of a…” And my stupid ass is just about to say “bombshell,” when I stop short. He will definitely know my mother as a bombshell. Oliver can’t have left that out. My father calls her Bomb all the time. And I know Pax has been to our house at least twice. Both times while I was in college. So he never saw me there. But still. Once you see my mother, you form an opinion and you never forget it. “More Doris Day.”
“Awww, you take after her, right? Sweet and shit?”
“Yup.” I laugh, picturing anyone calling my mother sweet. Hell, anyone calling me sweet is just as funny. We are so alike. “Anyway, I got into it. We did Death of a Salesman in high school and I played the part of the Woman.”
“The sexy tramp?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I get it now, of course. But back then I just wanted to wear the clothes.”
“Did you nail it?”
“Broke a leg. But really, it just fanned the flames of my obsession.”
Pax gets quiet all of a sudden. Shit, what did I say?
“Me?” he asks, looking over for a second before returning his eyes to the highway. “Was I your Bogart?”
I glance past him, to the ocean, which is flying by as we travel north. “Maybe a little.”
“We shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Right.”
“We should just enjoy it.”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“But I love your story. The real one and the fairy tale too.”
I lean back into my seat, relaxing. OK, maybe he knows something? But he can’t know I’m Oliver’s sister. I just don’t think he’d be so calm about that.
“We can play dress-up if you want,” Pax says.
My smile is huge at that offer. “You’d dress up?” I laugh just picturing it. “In a trench coat and hat?”
“Sugar, if you put on some stockings and red lipstick—and maybe nothing else— I’ll do anything you ask. You want a fantasy night, I’m there.”
I lean over and place my hand on his dick.
He grins, changes lanes, and pulls off the highway.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s a signal I don’t ignore, Cinderella. You want sexy times? You get sexy times.”
“It’s not even dark out.”
“Who cares? I got a boat at Marina Del Rey. Wanna see my boat?” He cups his hand over mine, making me squeeze his already thick cock.
I lean over and start kissing his neck. “Yeah, let’s see the boat.”
“Play with yourself while I drive,” he says, not looking at me. “I want you wet and ready the minute we get there.” And then he tips his sunglasses up and looks me in the eyes. “Do not squirt in my car.”
I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” We laugh.
“But seriously,” he says, staring over at me—laugh gone, smile gone. “Play with yourself while I drive. And start by taking those panties off, one leg at a time.”
God, he is hot.
I kick off my sandals, place both feet on the dashboard, and then lift my hips up just enough to wiggle my panties down to my thighs.
He’s watching from the corner of his eye.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Vance. I’m just feeling a little warm and need some relief. But this is none of your concern.”
That smile is worth every bit of the cheesiness I feel right now.
“A nice woman,” he says, giving me one more look as the panties make their way past my knees, slide down my calves, and stop at my ankles, “wouldn’t need the kind of relief taking your panties off would provide.”
“I’m not a nice woman, Detective. I’m a slut. I told you, I need help. And you blew me off back in your office because I have no money. Well, just because I can’t pay you in money, Detective, doesn’t mean I can’t pay you at all.”
His smile is so big. But he keeps his eyes on the road as he gets his laugh under control.
“Consider the show you’
re about to give me a down payment. Now turn your body so I can see you, and then open your slutty legs wide.”
I do what he wants. I take off my seatbelt, angle myself with my back against the door, and then open my legs.
“Your skirt’s in the way, Miss Sugar.”
“That’s Miss Sugar Cookie to you, Detective.”
He’s almost giggling and it makes me happy that I have the power to make him happy, even after that fucked-up visit from Liam Henry this afternoon.
“Pull your skirt up and play with yourself,” he says in a low voice, then glances at me with heavy eyes. “This is the game I want to play right now.”
“Don’t worry,” I whisper in a soothing tone. “I’m just getting started.” I pull my skirt up and give him a good look. We stop at a light. I can see the marina a few blocks ahead off to the left. “Do you want me to do it like this?” I say. “Pushing my fingers inside myself.”
“You little Disney whore.” But he licks his lips. And I picture his mouth where my fingers are, licking and lapping against my pussy, and I have to close my eyes.
“I’m not a whore,” I say in my best sultry dame-in-distress voice, then open my eyes again. “I forgot to tell you, I’m a virgin.”
This time he does laugh. Loudly. “Are you?”
“Yes,” I say. “So I might not want to do anything too fun today, Detective. I’m saving myself for Prince Charming.”
The light turns green but Paxton watches me as my fingertips caress the wet folds between my legs until the car behind us honks.
He starts forward and then turns left, towards the marina. “Are you going to tease me, Miss Cookie?”
“Oh,” I say, moaning a little. “I love teasing men. It’s how I got into this situation in the first place.”
“You pretended to be a whore? But when they found out you were a virgin, they—”
“Threatened my life,” I pretend-sob. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Tell me what kind of help you need, Miss Cookie.”
“I just can’t stop”—I pretend-sob again—“teasing. Help me stop. Please.”
He chuckles in a sexy you-have-no-idea-how-much-I-love-this-game kind of way. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
“Jesus fuck, are we there yet, Pax? I really do need you to lick my pussy.”