She wrapped herself in her terry cloth robe, preferring the texture and warmth of cotton over silk. Hugging herself, she continued to suppress the tears, but they would be subdued no longer. She let them flow again. It was healthier to let emotion out than to hold it back, she supposed.
She cried until no moisture was left. Her tear ducts were tender, her eyes no doubt bloodshot. Utter exhaustion was on the cusp of swallowing her whole.
Then a knock came on her door. The detective was back with his questions, with his inquiries, maybe even with his accusations.
She peered through the peephole, more out of habit than anything. It was him. He wasn’t facing the door, but was speaking at a low volume to one of the officers, his head turned to the side.
She unlocked the dead bolt and unlatched the chain. Her fingers pinched around the little knob on the chain. For some reason she found security in touching it. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
The detective spun toward her and nodded his hello, before entering. He was holding a brown paper bag, its bottom soiled from its contents, and her purse. She took the latter from him and put her hands around her cell phone as if it somehow brought her closer to Cal.
“This is for you, too.” He extended the bag to her.
The sight and the smell of food washed over her like a tidal wave. Her stomach growled and reminded her that she hadn’t eaten for hours, and before that, she’d barely had anything for six days.
She took the bag from him. “Thank you.”
“It’s chicken wings. Honey garlic. I hope you like them.”
Comfort food. She could have kissed him. Okay, maybe not, but she most certainly could have fallen into him for a hug. To feel a safe connection with another human being, to come into contact… Her soul longed for it. But life didn’t always operate by instinct. It operated by protocol, and it wouldn’t have been appropriate.
“Would you like tea? Coffee?”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” He stood there, as if he was lost, thrown into her apartment and released.
“I was going to make tea for myself.”
“Sure, in that case, I will take some.” He pressed his lips together. His attempt at a smile?
“Is chai all right?”
“Yes. Fine.”
Was he irritated now? Was she not talking to him fast enough? If so, too bad. He’d have to wait. She wasn’t going to talk without tea, or food, in her stomach. Maybe he sensed her thought process, though, as he made himself comfortable on her couch.
Sophie smiled awkwardly at him. It was strange having another man in her apartment and being alone with him, even though it wasn’t for any impure reason. She filled up the kettle and flicked the switch, then grabbed two cups and two tea bags and set them on the counter.
She tore into the brown take-out bag and pulled out a Styrofoam container. The aroma of the wings made her salivate before she even opened the package. She emptied them onto a plate from her cupboard. Whoever had made the wings had done a great job. They were meaty and coated with sauce. She couldn’t even wait to sit down before digging in.
She tore a chunk of meat off the bone, and then she took another bite and another until she realized she had carried on as if he weren’t there. She had eaten three wings before she came up for air. Self-conscious, she ripped off a piece of paper towel and dabbed the corners of her mouth and then scrunched it up in her hand.
The kettle clicked, and she set the wings aside to pour the boiling water over the tea bags. “I usually let it sit for five minutes.”
“Sure.”
Was he impatient with her? Did he have better things to do? Or did he only want answers? For all this, she still found that she couldn’t fault him. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.
She sat across from him, her plate on her lap and her mind and her stomach on the food. She picked up another wing and took a bite, studying his appearance as she did so. She wouldn’t have pegged him for a wing man. He was lean and handsome, in a chiseled sort of way. Too thin for her preference. Not that she was thinking of him like that. These were simply observations.
“Thank you again.” She lifted the remains of a wing, essentially saluting him with the bones.
“Don’t mention it.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his legs. “I do have some questions for you, Miss Jones.”
“Yes, I know.” It had only been three minutes, but she had to move again.
She finished preparing their tea, making his with two sugars the way he had responded to her inquiry.
She handed him the cup and sat back down. The chicken wings begged her to return, but she let them sit on the coffee table in front of her. She would have plenty of time to eat. It’s the least she could do after all this man had done for her, for his kindness, for doing his job and rescuing her. “What would you like to know?”
“I want to know everything from the beginning. First, did you know your abductor?”
She shook her head.
“But you had mentioned a Veronica Vincent.”
“Yes. And you know about Ian Bridges?” She paused and retracted her question. “I mean obviously since you found me at his place, you do.” She looked away, embarrassed. She just needed some time to relax and to collect her thoughts.
She blew on her tea and then took a small sip. Instantly she was catapulted back to the coffee shop, the last time she was with Cal when he brought her a strawberry scone and a chai tea. She’d give anything to go back in time. She wouldn’t have let herself become so blinded. She would have realized there were more important things than selling a house.
“So you want to know everything?” The question was rhetorical, a rise to pique his interest, even though it wasn’t necessary based on the way he sat perched on the edge of the sofa cushion.
“Please.”
-
Chapter 88
THE BULLET WAS A THROUGH and through. The door that Cal had found was the way out and it must have opened when they’d accessed the basement of the temple. Despite the fact it had been night, they’d set out right away. Robyn’s health had been of the utmost importance.
Robyn was treated in a Bolivian hospital, given a bunch of painkillers and the go-ahead to fly. They didn’t hang around to question the doctors but rather boarded the plane the first chance they’d gotten.
Ian had lost his power when Cal and Matthew had assumed strength in numbers. Surprisingly and blessedly, a stray bullet never so much as fired during that altercation, and they’d successfully disarmed him.
They had made Ian call Vincent to arrange for her plane to be ready for them. Matthew and Cal took turns holding the gun on him, while the other helped Robyn. She’d told them that she wasn’t an invalid. The recollection of her words, her attitude, hadn’t gotten old by even the next day. It still brought a smile to Matthew’s face.
They had found a way to seal the door to Paititi from the outside. Their find was safe. They buried Juan in the location where he had died. Then they had maneuvered through the jungle all night and all the next day, taking periodic rests. The canoes had been exactly where they had hidden them, and the four of them had loaded into one. The trek back had been smooth considering all they had been through, all Robyn had been through. They’d reached civilization twenty-four hours, give or take, after Robyn had been shot. She’d been treated and the next night, they boarded the plane.
Now they were on the plane heading home, and they couldn’t touch down in Canada fast enough. They were hours into the flight, and the sun was starting to rise, flooding the plane’s cabin with natural light.
Matthew was sitting at the table reading more on the Inca Empire. Cal was across from him, sleeping with his chin resting on his chest. Matthew could only imagine the neck pain he’d have when he woke up. Ian was zip-tied to a side table and wore a permanent scowl.
Robyn was asleep on the couch but then stirred, as if she had felt his eyes on her. She yawned and wiped her eyes. “I could sleep for a month.”
“Me too.”
“Me three,” Cal grumbled as he rubbed the length of his neck.
Cal had been asleep when Matthew had called Daniel with an estimated ETA. It was then that Daniel shared news of his own. But after the limited sleep they had during this quest, he let Cal rest with the intention to tell him as soon as he woke up. Matthew had also had a number of missed calls and a voice mail from his father.
“How are we getting Sophie back?” Cal asked.
Matthew smiled. “She’s safe and she’s home.” He went on to explain how her rescue had all played out.
“Thank God.” Cal steepled his hands and gazed upward.
About a minute later, Matthew went to open his mouth, but Cal spoke instead. “What is the deal between you and Vincent anyway?”
“Yeah, Matt. I think he deserves to hear about it.” Robyn rose from the couch and took a seat beside Cal at the table.
“It was a long time ago. Water under the bridge.”
“You didn’t just say that.” Cal turned to Robyn. “Did he just say that?”
Matthew took a deep breath. “We first met in South Africa. Have you heard of the missing Krugerrands?”
“Yeah,” Cal said.
“Well, they’re not exactly missing.”
Cal angled his head. “What do you mean?”
“Vincent took possession of them.”
Robyn raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re being awful cryptic here, Matt. Do you want to actually tell the story or should I?”
“Fine, fine. I found them—”
“But she seduced them out from under him. When he woke up in the morning, he was tied to the bed. The ’rands—and Vincent—were gone.” The hint of a smile dusted Robyn’s lips.
“Why do you find such amusement in this?” Matthew asked. “And shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“It just proves that men are easily distracted by a good-looking woman.”
“So you lost the treasure and the woman?” Cal asked for clarification.
Robyn answered. “He thought he had. Then the door to the hotel room opened and it was Vincent.”
“She came back?”
“Not by choice.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Why am I even here?”
Robyn snickered and continued. “Turned out two guys with guns had cornered her and forced her back to the room.”
Cal looked at Matthew. “So you were tied to a bed and two armed men came in?”
“Yep. Why don’t you continue, Robyn? You’re doing an excellent job.” He settled back into his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.
“Don’t mind if I do. So here he is, naked and tied to the bedpost, and—”
Matthew sighed. “You had to add the naked part.”
Cal let out a chuckle, and then Robyn went on.
“These men turned out to be Vincent’s buyers. See, she doesn’t hunt treasure for fame. She does it all for the money.”
“So that’s why she took Sophie?” Cal asked.
“You actually have that idiot over there to thank for that.” Robyn jacked a thumb toward Ian.
“But to answer your question,” Matthew began, “she would have had a buyer lined up for the Pandu statue. She missed the window of opportunity, though. So when I offered her the City of Gold, she likely offered that to her buyers, instead.”
“All right, back to the story.” Cal rubbed his hands together. “You’re naked and tied to a bedpost.”
Matthew shook his head.
Robyn picked up where she had left off. “Vincent tries to use her charm on the buyers, but it doesn’t work. There’s a struggle and the gun goes off.”
“I still have nightmares about that,” Matthew interjected.
“The bullet just missed him, but it got the rope. It frayed enough that while the three of them were involved in an altercation, Matthew got free.”
“You’re like an action hero,” Cal said with a laugh.
Matthew rolled his eyes. “It sounds so much better looking back. At the time it was kind of horrifying.”
“Kind of? I would have been shitting my pants. Oh, wait you weren’t wearing any.” Cal’s statement had both him and Robyn doubling over.
“Knock it off,” Matthew said without conviction.
Robyn held up her hand. “So…sorry, Matt. Ouch, it hurts to laugh.”
Matthew made a vee with his fingers and drew it from his eyes to her. Their history made the message discernable. He’d once joked that he’d put a voodoo spell on her for being a smartass.
“Then what happened?” Cal asked.
“He jumped out the window.”
Obviously, after taking a real bullet, she didn’t fear a fictional spell.
“Naked?”
Robyn was smiling. “Yep.”
“Then what?”
“He lowered himself onto my balcony and banged on the window.”
“You got more than you bargained for.”
Robyn’s cheeks flushed.
Seeming to sense the awkwardness, Cal said, “And Vincent?”
Matthew shrugged. “I didn’t really care anymore.”
“Oh, you’re cold.”
“I’m cold? She’s the one who left me tied to a bed.”
“True.” Cal seemed to ruminate on all he had been told. “So that’s why it’s so personal between you two? You heated the sheets, she stole the ’rands from you, and you left her for dead?”
“Yeah, but instead of being like any normal woman who would be pissed off at being left to die, she became more attracted to me.”
“She’s an interesting woman,” Cal responded.
“You can say that again. I still remem—”
Robyn slapped his arm. “Enough trips down memory lane for one day.”
Slicing through the tension, Cal’s cell phone rang. “Caller ID says it’s Sophie!” He answered. “Sophie? Oh, thank God.” To the rest of them, he said, “She’s all right.” Back into the phone. “Did they hurt you? God, I love you so much.”
As Matthew listened to his friend, he glanced over at Robyn. She was rubbing her bad arm, and while it could have been to ease pain, he sensed it had to do with comforting herself emotionally. He remembered what it was like to be in a loving relationship and to care about the other person as much as his own soul. He had—at one time—had the love of his life, like Cal had with Sophie. Now she sat across from him, seemingly as haunted by the memories of their time together as he was. Maybe one day things would change again. Calling her “baby” sure had seemed natural.
Cal lowered his phone. “They got the man who was in the room with Sophie.” He choked back on his words. “He was going to rape her.”
Robyn put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“The police showed up just in time.” He took a deep breath. “Bad news, though. Vincent’s in the wind.”
-
Chapter 89
SOPHIE HAD BEEN RETURNED SAFELY and while that mattered, it was far from all that mattered. William adjusted his tie in the mirror, his mind far from the image reflecting back at him. The other day, the PI had said he still hadn’t tracked Matthew down and there was no progress on connecting with Gideon Barnes, either. Both of which he sensed were lies.
William hated the lack of results more than he hated pointless updates. His time was far too valuable to spend following up with people. He paid them to take care of things. He shouldn’t have to hold their hands as they searched for answers. He shouldn’t have to check in with them to see how they were making out. They should be keeping him apprised of any current developments, no matter how small.
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He may just have to swallow his pride and make the call, though. To be visited by the detective and told they had found Sophie was a fishing expedition. William recognized them from a mile away. He had to be proactive and know when someone was searching for the latest scoop on the mayor of Toronto. Despite the peace and love that some people preached, negativity and self-advancement were what ruled society. People didn’t want to see others succeed; they wanted to be the ones who succeeded. Most didn’t care if they reached this by ethical methods or not. Anything was a go when it came to getting ahead.
With William in the media spotlight at all times, he had to stay one step ahead of people like that. He had to ensure he was professional and diplomatic at all times. While he was known to lose his temper now and again, those episodes had to be few and far between. The reputation he demanded of himself required as much.
The phone on his dresser rang. It was an internal call, meaning it was either Daniel or Lauren.
“Hello?”
“There’s a woman at the front door for you,” Lauren said on the other end of the line. “She says it’s about Matthew.”
“Let her in.” He hurried out of his room, uncertain if he even returned the receiver to its cradle in his haste.
Standing in the entry was a woman in her midthirties. Her beauty was striking. Her red hair was curly and flowed over her shoulders, but her good looks mattered less than her message.
“You know something about my son?”
“I do. Is there somewhere we could talk in private?”
It was an odd request, but whatever it took to get her to speak. “Lauren, please take her coat.”
“No, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll keep it.”
William waved Lauren away. To the woman, he said, “This way.”
He led her to the den where he had questioned Daniel a few nights ago. He gestured to a wingback chair. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you,” she said as she took him up on his offer.
William dropped onto the sofa. “What is your relationship with Matthew?”
“I’m afraid that’s a need-to-know and you don’t need to know.” The woman rose and pulled a handgun from the inside of her coat.
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