by Autumn Reed
Although she initially asked me where I was, and commented on my new look, she had dropped the subject for the most part, until now. “Nice try, but you know I’m not going to tell you. And, I’m friends with Noah.”
“Your flirty coworker doesn’t count if you only see him when you’re getting paid to. Come on. I still haven’t heard a peep from the guys, and I swear I would never tell them where you are.” I tried not to feel disappointed by their lack of contact with Jess, but I knew it was for the best.
“I don’t want to put you in that position. Plus, in case you forgot, they can be pretty persuasive.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten . . . and clearly neither have you.” She smirked and I felt my face fall before she spoke again in a more serious tone. “Oh, Haley, I’m sorry.”
I waved a hand through the air and smiled brightly. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” She stared at me intently. “I know you’re hurting.”
I bit my lip and held back the tears stinging my eyes as I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know,” she said in a gentle voice. “And I haven’t pushed the issue, but I think maybe it’s time.”
I sighed, knowing she was right but still reluctant to share. Talking about it would only bring everything to the surface once more.
“Do I need to kick their asses? Because I swear, I will.”
I laughed at the suggestion. “No, if anything you should kick mine. This is all my fault.”
“Okay. How so?”
I told her about Douglas’s threats—in vague terms, of course—and filled her in on Ethan’s confession and departure from the team. I then updated her on the continued lack of contact from my dad and Douglas’s silence.
“I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but honestly, I think telling the guys would’ve been a safer idea than running off to god-knows-where with no one looking out for you.”
“Yeah, I debated telling them. But it’s not like I could stay anyway.”
“Because of the Ethan-Liam-Chase situation . . .” she trailed off.
I nodded.
“I don’t think Ethan leaving was your fault, but I understand the timing was suspect. Hypothetically speaking, if the jackass and his threats were eliminated, would you return to wherever it was you were living?”
“I don’t know.” I groaned. “I liked my job and loved the city I was living in.”
“Haley,” Jess chided, “we both know we’re not talking about the job or city. You miss the sexy six pack, and I’m sure they feel the same way.”
“They were probably pissed at first that I left, but over time, they’ll realize it’s for the best.”
“You sure about that?” she asked skeptically.
I shrugged, figuring if they hadn’t contacted me by now, they didn’t care to. Despite my efforts to disappear, I knew they had the skills and resources to find me.
Jess and I talked a little while longer before signing off. Although nothing had changed, it felt better to talk to someone about my problems. She was probably right—I should at least attempt to make friends. I liked my co-workers well enough, and a few had even invited me out, but I didn’t feel up to socializing. Facing the prospect of yet another self-imposed evening alone, I decided to pop some popcorn and settle in for an episode of Gossip Girl, one of Jess’s favorite shows growing up.
I flipped open my computer and logged onto Netflix (using a Netflix gift card I picked up at the grocery store), ignoring the suggested programs. Every time I saw a mention of Arrow, my heart clenched at the reminder of Knox. I wondered if he was angry with me for leaving, but thinking back to his conversation with Jax shortly before I left, I realized that maybe a part of him was relieved to see me go.
Sighing, I pressed play, attempting to escape into the world of over-privileged teenagers, high-end fashion, and scandalous love affairs. But there was no escaping my life and the fact that I felt trapped, helpless, out of control. DuBois may have forced us into hiding, but my dad was the one to rigidly maintain our lifestyle for all those years. Then, when Douglas’s actions flushed us out, the guys sucked me right into their world. And, just as I was adjusting to my new life, Douglas forced me to run again by threatening me and the guys. When will it end?
As much as I despised Douglas for his role in all of this, retaliating against him didn’t seem like the solution. I hated having his threats held over me, but as far as I could tell, I remained in the clear from him as long as I stayed away from Santa Cruz. And it wasn’t like I planned to return there anytime soon; after all that had happened, I didn’t imagine the guys would welcome me with open arms. Even if they would, I couldn’t allow myself to come between them or jeopardize the group further.
Besides, eliminating the Douglas threat wouldn’t bring Dad out of hiding. No, to do that, I needed to go after the big fish—DuBois. DuBois was the key to this mess; taking him out of the equation would eliminate the Douglas problem and finally allow my dad to stop hiding. It was time for me to quit wallowing and do something. Deep down, I’d suspected for a while that Dad wasn’t merely staying off of DuBois’s radar—he was collecting evidence. Now I needed to find a way to help him.
Chapter 18: Jackson
Saturday, June 20th
I gripped the edges of my surfboard, lazily floating in the cold water as I waited for a wave to swell that was worthy of chasing. For the first few weeks after Haley and Ethan left, I denied myself the pleasure of surfing, punishing myself for letting things get so out of control. But, when Knox called me out in Portland, I took a hard look at my overbearing behavior. Ethan’s primary reason for quitting the team was my inflexibility, and although I still believed his decision to leave had been an overreaction, I was unwilling to risk pushing any more of the guys away.
With that in mind, I had been making a concerted effort to rein in my dictatorial tendencies. And, surfing almost daily helped me stay relaxed. There was nothing like the high of catching a wave, and I craved the release when I went without it for too long.
Glimpsing movement on the beach, I realized that Knox and Chase had already gotten out of the water and were climbing the steps that led to my backyard. Looking above their heads, I could see Liam messing with the grill and Theo standing nearby, animatedly talking with his hands. Knowing I shouldn’t keep them all waiting, I caught the next decently-sized wave and rode it to shore.
I couldn’t remember the last time the five of us had gotten together just to hang out, which was a problem. We’d wrapped up a fairly intense mission the day before, and I insisted on dinner tonight to unwind. Now that we were no longer in immediate crisis mode with Haley, we needed to spend more time together as a team, working through our issues. We had all been annoyingly edgy for too long—except for Knox, of course. He was cool as a cucumber, at least on the outside. If I hadn’t detected his worry about our girl in the tightness of his massive shoulders, I might have doubted he was human.
The conversation over dinner was lighthearted, reminding me of the days before things became so complicated. I would never admit it out loud, but there were moments I wished that we could all walk away from Zenith and never look back. Live normal lives and spend carefree Saturdays hanging out at the beach, free from the pressures and responsibilities of our jobs.
In the middle of reminiscing about the time we went paintballing and Knox ended up with a black eye, Chase said Ethan’s name before immediately snapping his mouth shut like he’d said a dirty word. Hating how awkward the mention of his name still made the group, I changed the subject, but it was obvious that the mood of the evening had shifted. It made me grateful, once again, that Ethan accepted a long-term transfer to Miami. I couldn’t imagine running into him at the office on a daily basis.
We were several beers in, even Chase, when Theo said sadly, “I can’t believe it’s only been two months.” He didn’t have to expound on his statement; all of us were exceedingly aware that Haley disappeared eight
weeks ago today. And while, in the whole scheme of things, it hadn’t taken that long to track her down, her absence visibly weighed on each of us.
“At least we know she’s okay,” Chase said tentatively. “She seems to get along well with her co-workers.”
“As long as she doesn’t start getting along too well with that stupid Noah guy,” Theo grumbled. “Just what we need—more competition for her affections.”
“That skinny, hipster-looking guy?” Liam asked with a laugh. “I wouldn’t consider him competition.”
“You never know,” Theo responded. “She’s got to be lonely, and he makes her laugh. I’ve seen it.”
“We should probably be more concerned with what to do about her when we convince her to come home. And, we will convince her to come home,” I said forcefully. I hadn’t intended to bring up the subject tonight, but it was past time for us to discuss a plan. “There are still five of us and one of her.”
“What choices do we have?” Knox asked. “Leave her there and let her be?” Groans and head shakes around the table accompanied his words. “Coax her back here and then ban ourselves from dating her again? We tried that once, and it didn’t work out so well.”
“We could decide which one of us gets to date her,” I offered, hating how idiotic the idea sounded.
“Like draw straws?” Chase asked.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
The table fell silent, and I took a long swig of my beer, feeling defeated. I kept pushing this problem to the back of my mind, but obviously there was no good resolution. Unless four of us suddenly bowed out—which was never going to happen—we needed a plan.
“Shouldn’t Haley be the one to choose?” Liam said. “We bring her home, all date her, then let her decide.”
“All date her at the same time?” Chase asked, his face suddenly pale.
“Why not?” Liam responded, clearly not bothered by the idea.
“Because people might think badly of her. And us,” he added.
“It’s not like we would post it on Facebook,” Liam said with a sarcastic lilt to his voice.
“We don’t even know if she’s interested in all of us,” Knox interrupted. “And what if she wants Ethan? He’s popular with the ladies for a reason.”
“Don’t even go there, and I doubt that she would turn any of us down,” Liam retorted. “But, no one is going to force her. We could just ask her who she wants to date.”
“Easy for you to say,” Theo said with a scowl. “You’ve made out with her, so of course she won’t turn you down.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “You lived with her for over seven months. She adores you; she’s not going to reject you, of all people.” Theo looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything more.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Knox said. “I can’t imagine putting her in a position where she has to choose after dating all, or even most, of us. It would be too hard for her. You know Haley; she would hate hurting any of us like that.”
“Knox is right,” Chase said with a frown. “It would crush her.”
Although I didn’t disagree, I found myself asking, “Do we have any better ideas?”
When no one responded, Liam grinned. “Looks like we’re going with mine, then. Let the best man win.”
“We still have time—for now, let’s keep an open mind,” I said before the conversation could spiral into an argument.
I had a sudden vision of the five of us in medieval costumes, jousting for the favors of our fair maiden. When I started laughing, every eye turned to me, watching me like I was crazy. Maybe I was slightly crazy for considering the idea. I was supposed to be devoted to keeping the team together at all costs, and officially fighting for Haley’s affections could easily be the thing that would rip us apart at the seams. But, how could I expect any of them to give up Haley when I wasn’t willing to do so?
Chapter 19: Haley
Monday, June 22th
I jogged up to the guest house, pacing on the driveway to cool down from my morning run. Since coming to Portland, I kept pushing myself to run faster, longer, and I felt stronger. I had a sudden flashback to running with Knox and almost laughed aloud at the memory of the morning I challenged him to a race.
We were nearly neck-and-neck when a dog unexpectedly popped into his path; instead of dodging it, he leapt over it like a hurdle. I was so shocked by his quick reflexes that he easily passed me and won. Grinning broadly, Knox scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder, refusing to put me down as I laughed the entire three-block walk to the loft.
Despite my determination to block out everyone I left behind in California, I often found myself wondering about them, Tyler and Kara included. I had really enjoyed Kara’s, albeit brief, friendship and was sad to give up yet one more of my precious few friends. Has she asked the guys where I am? And how would they explain my absence?
After a shower, I sat down to breakfast with my laptop and opened Dad’s file for the two years preceding his disappearance. Over time, I had read the fifty or so cases it contained, mainly out of curiosity, but I always focused on the information relating to the organization DuBois was active in. Parsing through the information over the past few weeks had yet to reveal anything that seemed particularly useful, but I was trying not to get discouraged.
I sighed and opened the folder with scanned copies of handwritten notes Dad made while undercover. Unfortunately, since they had never been incorporated into a formal report, they were somewhat disorganized. At least I’m not scheduled to work until late afternoon, I thought, trying not to feel daunted by the task before me.
Piecing Dad’s notes together chronologically, I started building a timeline. Prior to his disappearance, Dad pursued several avenues of information, vigilantly collecting the evidence necessary to take down DuBois and his organization. One of his regular activities involved following a known associate of DuBois and logging the details of his movements. Many of the locations seemed benign, but over time, Dad focused on occasions when the associate visited The Punching Bag.
The Punching Bag, I thought. Why does that sound familiar? I closed my eyes, scanning my memory. I could have sworn that I had seen the name before, in Dad’s file, in fact. Ignoring it for the moment, I continued skimming the notes, and it became clear that Dad suspected the gym was being used as a cover for drug distribution.
With a few pages left, I couldn’t stop thinking about the gym name. Besides, the rest of the notes seemed like more of the same. I noted my place and then clicked through a few of the other case files, skimming one or two before landing on a murder that occurred less than a year before Dad’s disappearance. Although the case was later assigned to another detective, it remained unsolved and there hadn’t been any updates in nearly a decade.
Everything about the victim, Danny Franco, from his appearance to his known associates, was catalogued in great detail. Franco worked as a mechanic and was a member of The Punching Bag, which he visited regularly, especially in the months leading up to his death. Ding ding, I thought, feeling satisfied.
The victim’s girlfriend was interviewed on several occasions after his death, and the only thing of note in her statements was the mention of a man who visited their apartment several times late at night to discuss business. Unfortunately, she supposedly didn’t know any particulars of their meetings, and her description of him was so vague it was laughable—“medium build, dark hair.” Did the mystery man have something to do with Franco’s death?
While nothing in the Franco file mentioned DuBois, the reference to The Punching Bag made me suspicious that the two were somehow linked. I glanced through the inventory and then the additional notes. 7643892. 7643892. Tapping my fingers on my knee, I repeated it to myself several times, knowing I had seen it recently.
I hastily reopened the file on DuBois. Scanning the documents for 7643892, I felt elated when I finally discovered a match—764-3892. Yet, in Franco’s file it was listed as a single string of numbers,
7643892.
I was trying not to get too excited over something seemingly minute, but between the gym name and now this identical seven-digit number, it left little doubt in my mind that Franco and DuBois were connected somehow. Was it a bank account? Considering Franco’s accounts were all listed on a separate inventory, it seemed unlikely. Seven digits was closer to a phone number, especially since at the time, area codes weren’t necessarily in common use. But perhaps it was something else entirely. Unfortunately, it had been such a minor point in the investigation that there was no further information.
I need to talk to Dad, I thought, concern and anger swirling through me at his lack of contact. I hadn’t heard from him since the Vegas trip in March, and every day that went by without a new text message only increased my anxiety. I was so fed up with the situation. No longer watched by the guys or within geographic proximity of DuBois or Douglas, I made up my mind—the next time Dad contacted me on the Batphone, I was going to demand that we meet. I had no idea where he was, or how long it would take to set up, but I refused to take no for an answer.
After lunch and trimming my bangs, I biked over to the coffee shop for my shift. I had already touched up my dark color once since coming to Portland, but it was going to need another coat of “Jet Blue Black” soon. The color had grown on me some, and while I still preferred my natural hue, glancing at my reflection felt less like looking at a stranger.
“You seem different today,” Noah said as I wiped down the counter at the coffee shop. There were a few lingering customers, but the shop was fairly deserted this time of day.
I shrugged but didn’t otherwise respond. I still missed the guys terribly, but my discovery this morning left me feeling more invigorated than I had in weeks. Now I just needed to talk to Dad.