“Stuck in a stuffy office. He’s been working lots of overtime lately. I hardly see him anymore.” Paul shrugged with an engaging grin. “Hoping to take a trip with him somewhere this summer.”
“Counting your lucky stars, young man? You could be right with him in that stuffy office.”
“Absolutely.” Paul gave a firm nod. “I didn’t know you were dating Reggie when you offered to pass it on. Maybe I could have gotten my work looked at sooner.”
“It wouldn’t have done any good. Reggie is a tight ass when it comes to his work. He doesn’t like interference from anyone. Even me.”
“Damn right,” Reggie interjected with a grin. “Only the best.
Frank finally turned to me with a twinkle in his silvery-gray eyes. I fully expected to be charmed. He seemed so well liked and was being so amiable.
“The chocolate was delightful, Taylor.” He grasped my hand, and though he was smiling and being charming, and though it was a freaking hot summer day, a chill went up my arm. I sensed menace. Danger. Death. It swamped me, and I couldn’t get my breath for a moment. He’d taken life without remorse and was going to do so again. I could feel his intentions! It took all I had not to immediately snatch my hand away and run.
Shit. Holy shit. Who was this guy?
My heart pounded in my throat, and a cold sweat broke out down my spine. My mind was momentarily blank with panic. He kept looking at me, almost knowingly, and I wondered if he could read my thoughts. No, because my fortified shield was up. I quickly slammed a wall into place mentally against his thoughts, but not before I caught a final promise. She won’t be a problem for much longer. Finally, I will fulfill my contract.
The quiet certainty of the words moving through Frank’s mind made my skin crawl. I experienced a feeling of dread like never before. It made me shiver. I hadn’t been wrong on Friday. He did mean to hurt me.
“Reggie wanted to surprise you,” I finally managed with a false, bright smile. I was referring to the chocolate.
“He did.” Frank’s smile was oily and suggestive. It added just another layer of sick to the situation.
“I hope you had a good trip,” I offered hesitantly.
“Trip?” Frank’s eyes narrowed on me analytically. “Yes, of course. I was interested in some investment property.”
“Have you talked with Dad about it?” Paul inquired.
“Soon enough,” Frank replied vaguely. He turned to Reggie. “Are you ready?”
“We’re set.”
“Shall we get this dreadful task accomplished? I can’t wait to be done and home where the air is so nicely conditioned.” Frank smiled, only this time, instead of looking charming when his gaze met mine, he looked calculating and cold. Reptilian.
“Take your time, Taylor. I won’t need you back at the office today.” Reggie threw several hundreds down on the table, more than enough to cover our meals and then some. “Just make sure to set up a time for a contracts meeting.”
“Okay.” I watched them leave, not knowing what to do with the information I’d unwittingly retrieved from Frank’s thoughts. I could just see the look on Paul’s face if I told him Frank was a killer. He’d probably think I was batty. ‘’’Course, Paul’s father was friends with Frank, so who was Paul in all this? How did he fit in with the bigger picture? Were he and his family as dangerous as Frank, and here I was being left alone with him?
Reggie and Frank got into the black luxury sedan that was parked just across the street. The valet chased around the car to open both doors, accepting a tip from the killer Good Samaritan, Frank.
“They have great chocolate-chip cookies. Can I tempt you with one? Maybe some coffee?”
“Sure.” I smiled and sat back down at our table, partly because I needed to ground myself again. I was still feeling shaky. Quivery. It isn’t every day that you find out someone is trying to kill you. Now what was I supposed to do? That is...if I believed in this whole mind-reading thing...and if I felt like I’d really read his mind...and if I’d done it accurately. He could have been thinking about his contractor or his designer, right? Mind reading. What a hoot. How silly. Ha-ha-ha.
But the humor was missing from this mental exchange I was having with myself. In truth, I was afraid.
“I’m glad you aren’t one of those waifs where never a carb, a sugar or a fat will pass your lips. Though I was worried when I saw you’d ordered a salad.” Paul’s eyes twinkled as he gave me a crooked smile.
“Truthfully, I didn’t know if I was paying or if Reggie was paying,” I said with a smile. “They don’t pay assistants all that much, you know. The price of this meal is what my monthly grocery bill costs.”
“Ouch,” was his reply, but it was said good-naturedly. The waiter approached and Paul ordered two coffees and two chocolate-chip cookies. I was trying to think of a way to broach the subject of Frank without seeming like I was trying to pry, when Paul offered the perfect opening.
“He’s a character, isn’t he?”
“Reggie?” I asked.
“Frank. Hell, Frank and Reggie together.”
“What do you mean? Does it bother you?”
“Them being gay? Not at all. I just mean you never know with Frank. He’s a cool customer. Keeps his cards close, and then all of a sudden, he does something like help me with my script. Really, though, he’s doing it as a favor to my father. They’ve been friends for years.”
“I still don’t know how Frank and Reggie met.”
“Reggie’s sister had some kind of event, maybe a charity event, at her house...”
“I didn’t realize Reggie had a sister.” My lips quirked as I tried to envision a feminine version of Reggie.
“Well, according to Frank, she’s some kind of money manager...what do you call that...a financial planner, and he’s one of her newer clients, so he went to the event. She introduced them and that was that.”
Wasn’t that interesting. Why would he go to a charity event? Why would a...possible killer go to a charity event? What was he really doing? No way would I believe that Frank was doing anything charitable, which opened the door to many more questions, none of which likely had good answers. Ultimate creepiness. Poor Reggie! How could I let him know his partner was dangerous? He wouldn’t believe me if I did try to tell him. He’d likely fire me...
“He’s changed Reggie. For the better, I mean. Reggie seems happier. He has the ability to relax more, which he was not able to do before, and we all suffered for it.” I covered my silence with a weak smile, only to realize Paul had taken my words the wrong way.
“So the work environment is better for you if he’s getting laid regularly?”
“That’s one way to put it.” I flushed, realizing that we were starting to cross a line here. Paul wasn’t my pal. He was a client. And he wasn’t a full client yet. He hadn’t signed a contract or anything. “I apologize. I don’t mean to imply that Reggie needs anything. He’s got a solid reputation because he works so hard.”
“Don’t worry, Taylor.” Paul took my hand in a loose clasp on the table, his expression light, flirtatious. “I know what you meant.”
His touch didn’t move me in the least. He had large, warm hands, but somehow they were too soft. They didn’t feel quite right holding mine. I could still remember Ryder’s big, roughly calloused hands touching me, which was wrong. Totally wrong. Ryder was a great big user and manipulator. I would convince myself of this. Soon.
“So what did you mean about Frank and Reggie? I don’t know Frank at all. This was my first time meeting him.”
“I’ve known him for about ten years now. He’s changed teams a few times, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t share that with Reggie, though.”
“You mean he’s had girlfriends?”
“Yeah. His last partner, at least, was female. Intere
sting woman. Frank brought her to dinner at my father’s house a few times. Not sure what happened to her. She seems to have gone underground. Linda something. She owned an investment firm. Somehow inherited after her husband died. Something like that.”
Paul took a sip of water from his glass on the table. “Maybe her company became a casualty of the financial meltdown, because it did go bankrupt, as I remember. Anyway, just before that happened, Frank stopped seeing her.” He shook his head with a cynical smirk. “She broke his heart. Started seeing another guy with more money. Something like that. Anyway, I’m glad to see him happy. He’s a good guy.”
The waiter returned and Paul dropped my hand to fix his coffee. Resisting the urge to wipe my palm on my dress—his hand had felt a little clammy to me—I put some cream and sugar in mine and took a sip, meeting his gaze over the rim of my cup.
“So Reggie isn’t Frank’s first guy?”
“I don’t think so. I was younger at the time and less savvy, but he may have brought a guy over he was into. But—” he gave me his charming smile, his eyes creasing at the corners as he looked over my face softly, “—I don’t feel like talking about Frank right now.”
“I know it’s none of my business. I just find people so interesting.” I gave Paul a small shrug, as if to show I couldn’t help being curious, hoping it didn’t seem strange that I was asking so many questions.
“I want to talk about you going out with me for dinner or drinks.” He was trying to hold my gaze, but I looked down at my cookie and broke a piece off as I thought about the best way to refuse.
“Paul...”
“Don’t say no.” His voice came out gently. Again, I immediately recognized that his voice wasn’t as deep or gravelly as Ryder’s and wanted to kick myself, or Ryder.
“We’re going to have a working relationship, not a romantic one.”
“That’s not a good reason. I’ll go with another company and ask you out again.”
“I am not part of the deal,” I said firmly. “You need to decide what you’re going to do, and regardless, I’m not going out with you.”
“Is there a guy in your life?” His expression turned shrewd.
“Sort of. I mean not really. Maybe.” Just my fumbling made me want to bury my head in my arms on the table and probably delivered a more truthful message to Paul than my actual words. Instead, I put the piece of cookie back down with a sigh and wiped the crumbs off my fingers. “I met someone a few days ago, but I don’t know what’s happening with him just yet.”
“All right. I can accept that.” Paul nodded. Then he became all business. “So let’s talk about when the meeting should take place.”
“Oh. Okay.” It was an abrupt change in subject, and I wasn’t sure if he was the type to pout and be passive-aggressive (because I’ve experienced this before when a guy doesn’t have his feelings returned) or if he was just trying to get back to business.
I pulled my smartphone out and hit the app for Calendar. I keep track of all of Reggie’s appointments along with corresponding phone numbers for “just in case” moments when something goes haywire. I like being prepared.
“What’s good for you?” I asked. I could feel his eyes on me, analyzing me.
“Anything. I’m not on the clock anymore.”
“What about Thursday at 2:00 p.m.? We can meet in the boardroom.”
“Works for me. You have a pen I can borrow?”
I dug one out of my purse and handed it to him. He wrote the information down on a napkin, which he then folded and stuck in his wallet. I began quickly thumb-typing the information, the time and the date. When I asked him for his number, he gave me a slow grin while reciting it, which probably usually had a killer effect on female hearts and maybe would have on mine even a week ago.
I emailed the information to myself, so I would remember to put it on Reggie’s calendar.
“I’ll give you a reminder call, if you’d like.” I looked over at him. He was still watching me admiringly. To cover my discomfort, I took a sip of coffee, not knowing what to do now that I’d told him I wasn’t interested.
“I’d appreciate that. I wouldn’t want to miss the meeting.”
“All right then. We’re set.” I put my phone away.
“Are you going to leave me now?”
“I think it’s best, Paul.”
“I know, I know. I hope we can become friends?”
“Absolutely.” Business, phone-only friends.
After making sure the money on the table was enough, we walked out to the sidewalk, where Paul leaned in, his lips near my ear. “Keep my number handy. Call anytime. You never know, right?”
“Okay.” I pulled away. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”
“Where are you parked?”
“Not far.” I was deliberately vague, because I didn’t want him offering to walk me back, which had the potential for more awkwardness.
I started to walk away and knew that he watched me until I rounded the corner and was out of sight. It felt like a really long block, particularly since I had to step carefully with my heels, but then I was on Alden Drive and could almost see my car on the next block.
I could even take my time, now that I had the afternoon off.
Being that this was a business district on a Monday afternoon, there were a few people milling about, weaving into and out of shops and restaurants. I decided to open my mind and see how much noise I could pick up from people around me. I wanted to know the range, as if I was experimenting with mental sonar. At first, I was getting nothing. It seemed that my mind couldn’t latch on to people blowing by me in cars. An elderly couple walked by me and smiled. I sensed their general feelings of contentment. Underlying this, I could feel the man was worried about his wife’s diabetes and how she needed to stop with the damned pastries.
Traffic, while light, was constant, which was why I didn’t think anything when a dark van pulled to the curb into an empty space ten yards ahead of where I was walking. I was in the midst of taking a deep breath and realizing, with no small amount of pleasure, that this was two workdays for me that were cut short, which was unheard of in this industry. Yet here I was, with no idea what to do.
Young Asian girl tied up in a remote village in the tropics. Clothing ripped. Face beaten.
The image, clear and crisp, slammed into my mind. It startled me, and I looked around. Holy crap, what was that?
Just like that. I’ll do her just like that.
The evil voice snaked into my head, and I looked around a moment, slowing my steps to see who the sick perv was who was thinking about this. No one looked creepy enough. A couple of young teens who looked like they were ditching school; a couple of guys in business suits, looking slick and harried, deep in conversation; and a grandmotherly type walking a little Paris Hilton dog were in the immediate vicinity. The older lady walked through the shoe-store doors. The image died but left behind the bloody taste of death, violence and helplessness.
I guess you never get too old to appreciate shoes, I thought without humor, mostly just trying to calm my nerves. Unable to figure out where the image had come from, I continued walking, but with less enthusiasm. I had a sense that that girl had met a horrible end. It sort of took the wind from my sails.
I was nearing the van on my way back to my car when the sliding door opened. Two burly, middle-aged guys jumped out with muscles and no-nonsense expressions. One man had a shaved head and wore a beat-up, holey T-shirt and threadbare jeans, while the other had a buzz cut, old army fatigues and a white muscle shirt.
There she is.
The menacing voice stretched decrepit fingers into my mind. A tingle went up my spine. The men weren’t looking around, like they were getting ready to shop or eat. No, they had an immediate bead on me, and me alone.
The run away d
anger vibe hit me dead on. I stopped cold. I may have even taken a few stuttering steps back, but before I knew it, they rushed me!
I didn’t have time to scream. I gasped and turned to run, but a meaty hand clapped against my mouth, smelling of foul must and old onions. A tatted-up forearm encircled my rib cage. Another set of arms came around my legs. I was suddenly weightless, lifted off the ground.
Horror, fear, paralysis.
Fight!
This was a waking nightmare. The roaring sound of my blood pumping furiously deafened me. With my whole body, I bucked and scratched at the arms holding me as the men tried to rush me to the van.
Ryder! I shrieked mentally, wishing for the mental connection, opening my mind wide to him, but there was no response. A single second dragged by. The world was in slow motion.
I scratched at the face behind me. I kicked out to slow them. Where was everybody? Anybody! But the line of cars blocked most of the physical scuffle. I couldn’t make enough noise to draw attention to myself, and they managed to make half the distance back to the van!
I bit down hard on the hand holding my mouth. I tasted blood.
“Fuck!” A voice snarled. The man snatched his hand from my mouth, which gave me enough time to scream. Loud. Shrill. Adrenaline added strength to my struggles, making it hard for them to keep a tight hold of me. I got a leg free! I kicked the crew-cut guy, using the heavy wooden platform of my shoe, but not with enough force to do any damage, which added to my crushing fear.
The little old lady with the tiny dog came out of the store several yards away. We made eye contact. Her dismay was clear, but she was so far and fragile. What could she do? A young woman was several feet behind her with her cell phone in hand, but there was no time.
“Hold her tighter,” the bald guy growled, covering my mouth with more force, leaving me no room to sink my teeth into his skin again.
I kept fighting, but they were stronger, and that’s when I knew. I couldn’t get away. I would never see the light of day again. Just like the Vietnamese girl Crew Cut had killed during a tour of Vietnam. I could see that he wanted to hurt me. Badly.
Quicksilver Dreams (Dreamwalkers) Page 13