The Assistant's Secret

by Emerald O'Brien

  “Like what?”

  “You protecting me. I want to be there for you too, however you need.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  We walk out of the bedroom, down the hall, and stop in the living room, watching Andy play.

  “I’ll tell him after you leave,” Maggie whispers.

  “Can we tell him as a family?”

  She smiles and nods, and we sit on either side of him on the couch.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say, “we’ve got some exciting news.”

  A smile pops up on his face, and he rests the controller in his lap, turning to me. I look at Maggie with a smile, and she smiles too.

  “We’re taking a trip,” Maggie says.

  “No way! Where?” He turns to her, and she beams down at him.

  “A place we used to go when we were about your age. Maybe a little younger.”

  Right before our parents died.

  “Cooool,” he says. “When?”

  “Tonight!” Maggie laughs and tickles his armpits. “We have to pack.”

  “Okay!” he shouts and stands, turning to me. “Are you coming, too?”

  It breaks my heart that making the decision to go back to Tackman’s means I can’t promise him I’ll be back.

  I want to so bad, but he’s had to deal with the pain of too many broken promises, and a lump forms in my throat so I can’t even speak.

  “She’s going to try,” Maggie says. “We’re going to have so much fun. A fresh start.”

  “Can I bring my lizard?” he asks.

  “You can.” Maggie smiles and leans back on the couch. “If you’re good, and you promise to take care of it, a real lizard could even be in your future.”

  “No way!” he shouts and runs to his room, bringing back his lizard that transforms into a car. “Can I bring my glow in the dark shoes?”

  “Sure,” she says and turns to me as I stand.

  “I’ve gotta go out for a bit, so be good for your mom.” I open my arms, and he stares up at me holding the lizard. “Can I have a hug?”

  He smiles and rushes to me, his weight slamming against me as his scrawny arms squeeze me tight. Tears pool in my eyes, and I have to choke down the emotion rising from my chest.

  What if something goes wrong tonight? What if they catch me looking for the gun? What if I can’t get the nerve to help the hostage get out, and I leave, knowing I left someone there to die? What if they catch me helping him?

  The worries swarm, bees in my brain, until Andy releases me from his grip, and I squeeze him tighter, pulling my focus back to the present moment, to the little guy whose life matters more than mine. Whom I’ll protect at any cost.

  I have to settle my business so we can get a fresh start without looking over our shoulder.

  “Bye, Joey.” He sprints to the couch again and leans back against the cushion with his mom, handing her a controller.

  I grab my purse and the small package I picked up on the way home from work after shopping for my own clothes for the first time in years. Cathrine came through with the client bonus she owed me, and I sent her the information on retrieving her proof.

  I don’t love the idea of using money from Locke Industries, but it’s a decision I don’t have the luxury of making based on my morals, and I don’t want to, either. I deserve this payday.

  I walk through the door and wave to them, holding it open. “Love you guys.” Choking back tears, I smile, and they smile back.

  “Love you,” they call before I close the door behind me.

  If I can get through this, I’ll never get caught up in anything like this again.

  I promise.

  As I leave the apartment and walk down the hall in my brand-new black boots and faux leather jacket, thunder booms above me, shaking the nerves within me until I’m a human rattle.

  Just focus on the plan.

  Go to Tackman.

  Give him his gift.

  Get the gun.

  Get out.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Gift

  The pattering against my windshield slows to a gentle stop, and a heavy fog settles in. As I exit the highway into Copperfield County, I squint as I approach the first traffic sign and see it shining green at three car lengths behind the crosswalk line. I can’t do more than forty miles per hour as I travel down the familiar roads, past the wheat fields I can no longer see as trees appear in my headlights on the side of the road, passing just as quickly.

  Turning down the dirt road I almost missed the first time I came, I lick my lips and squeeze the wheel tight, passing the tree line. Tackman’s house glows through the fog, most of the lights on, shining through the glass windows, guiding my way up the drive.

  Clouds roll across the waning moon behind Tackman’s home, rising from the back forests, and I park beside the red Camaro and a black truck. His home, his whole property, is enshrouded in the same thick fog.

  I grab the box and my purse, step out of the car, and hesitate before shutting the door. The front door opens, and Tackman steps out in jeans and a black button-down dress shirt.

  I remember him standing there on the day we met. How he said at the end of our first meeting that he didn’t think I could handle the job, not after I ran from the white room. That I was too green, and he was right, in a way.

  Signing that contract, I didn’t know who he really was—still don’t—but I knew I was putting aside my morals and taking a risk to get ahead. Never again.

  I walk up the driveway, purse over my neck, across my chest, and he lifts his chin as I stare up at his solid frame, backlit by the foyer light.

  “Hey, Josie,” he says in a warm whisper, and I’m almost under his spell again.

  That’s how I know this should work.

  “Thanks for seeing me.” I hold the box in front of me with both hands. “May I come in?”

  He presses his lips together, hiding a small grin, and leads me into the house, shutting the door behind us.

  “Is that for me?” he asks, pointing to the box.

  I nod, but keep it held against my stomach. I look him in the eye. “I want to apologize,” I say, and he raises his brow slightly as his chest heaves, but he keeps eye contact. “I was caught off guard by everything the last time I saw you. I was afraid for my family, and I’m still—I don’t like what’s going on with Carver and my sister. I’m protective of her.”

  “But no one’s protecting you.” He crosses his arms. “That’s what you said the other night.” He presses his lips together and glances away. “I don’t know if you remember…”

  “I remember. Thank you for what you did for me. Paying off the debt.” I frown, unable to hide my discomfort, and maybe I don’t have to. “I don’t accept help easily.”

  He laughs a little and runs his hand over his beard. “But you didn’t have a choice this time.”

  “And that’s part of why I got so upset. I don’t like handouts. I don’t like owing people things.”

  “Who does? I never said you owed me anything. In fact, I’m sorry if I led you to believe I expected something from you. That wasn’t a business transaction. That was personal.”

  The hum of tension between us lingers until I hold out the box.

  He takes it, and his hands drop a little. “Heavy.”

  I smile, ready to deliver my next line.

  He opens it and lifts a bottle of tequila out, the same kind I dropped and shattered. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Just like you didn’t have to help me.” I say with a genuine smile. “Funny now that you’re in my position, only imagine that bottle was almost twenty-thousand dollars.”

  His chest heaves again as he studies the bottle and then me.

  “Do you think we could,” I take a step closer to him, “pick up where we left off the other night?”

  The only way to get near the keycard and grab it.

  He cracks a smile as his eyes light up. “I think we could manage that.”

&nb
sp; He leads me from the foyer, past the study—the gun could be in there—past the door to the white room—the hostage—down the hallway to the kitchen.

  He grabs two lowball glasses, and I walk ahead, opening the sliding door for him. A breeze sweeps my hair across my face, and I pull it away as he sets the glasses on the patio table and pops open the tequila bottle. Fog lingers around the trees in the backyard, and the pool light glows eerily before us. No squiggly little distinct lines of light—just a soft haze of jade green.

  He pours two shots worth into both of our glasses and grabs them, holding one out to me. I take it, and we raise them a little higher before taking sips to hide our grins.

  I can’t deny the way he makes me feel any more than I can keep letting it happen.

  Stay in control. You can only control your own actions.

  “Have a seat.”

  I take the white block closest to the bushes and pull the hair out of my face as he sits next to me.

  “I’m not used to seeing you like this.” He looks me over, taking his time, smiling.

  “Not dressed up?”

  He smiles. “More Josie than Josephine. It suits you.”

  I laugh a little, my cheeks flushing, and take a small sip of my drink, eager to tamp out the tension between us or slow it down somehow. Work. Something about work.

  “So,” I say, a little too loudly, “why did you uninstall the camera above the pool?”

  He swirls the tequila around in his glass while looking straight at me with a smirk. “I like to swim naked, and while there’s some people I wouldn’t mind watching me, it’s not an open invitation.”

  “Ah.” I take another sip without meaning to, desperate for something to hide my smile.

  Focus on the plan. On the keycard and the gun.

  “Have you eaten yet?” I ask.

  “No, are you hungry?”

  I smile and nod, and he leans forward.

  “I have some chips and salsa.”

  “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

  He gets up, taking his drink with him, and steps into the house. With the glass wall, it’s easy for him to see me when his back isn’t facing me. He’ll have to go in the fridge to get the salsa if it’s not a new jar. That’ll be my chance. Hopefully the fog can conceal some of my action.

  He turns his back and opens the fridge. I lean back, spotting the white amongst the greenery and grab the card, tucking it into my purse.

  “Phone’s for you.” The new voice makes me jump.

  Danes.

  He sees me through the glass and nods hello to me, holding his phone up for Tackman.

  “I’ll call them back.” Tackman shoots me a quick smoldering glance.

  “It’s Cami. She says it’s important.”

  Tackman continues pouring salsa into a bowl.

  “Boss?” Danes asks.

  “I’ll call her back,” Tackman says, enunciating each word.

  Danes sighs and walks back down the hallway to wherever he was before.

  Danes is here too, and once I go inside, I risk running into him. There’s so much at stake here, staying for a gun, for a man I don’t know.

  Tackman steps back out with two bowls and sets them on the table. I better eat them, since I asked for it. I dip a chip into the salsa and cover my mouth as I take a bite and a little juice runs over my lip. I lick it off and crunch on the salty, tangy snack, the aroma of lime filling my nose. “It’s the perfect snack with tequila.”

  I look back at him, and he’s watching me. I swallow and wave him off. “You can stop staring at me now.”

  His smile fades as he stares into my eyes. “Can I?”

  My chest flutters as I lean back, away from the chips, away from him.

  I can’t let this go on any longer. I can’t keep forgetting who he is and what he’s done.

  What a threat he is to me and my family.

  He takes a sip of his drink and leans forward. “I haven’t always made the right decisions when it comes to you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you… afraid of me. Or angry.”

  I’m afraid of myself with you, for so many reasons.

  He reaches behind his back and pulls out a handgun.

  My chest tightens, and I freeze as he stares down at it. “I shouldn’t have had you anywhere near this.” He shakes his head and sets it on the table. “I’m sorry.”

  I look from the gun to him, back to the gun. “That’s the one with my…”

  “Not anymore. I wiped it, but in case you don’t believe me, I want you to take it.”

  “What?” I cock my head to the side and study him. Is this a test?

  “Actually, I think it’s better if you take it. You’ll have something to protect yourself with, if you ever need to, until you find someone, and you let them protect you.”

  I reach out for the gun slowly. The gun with his prints on it now.

  “The safety's on. If you’re not comfortable with it, you can get rid of it, but I want you to trust me. I want you to have the option.”

  I feel the weight of it.

  “It’s loaded, and if you ever need ammunition—just anything—you can come to me.”

  “Why?” I let my question slip out before I can filter it. “What about the police? You said you have friends. That they’d believe you. Why are you giving this back to me?”

  He takes a sip from his drink and puts the glass down, leaning closer to me. “Because I trust you. And I want you to trust me. The police will never have a reason to connect you to anything. You can trust me, Josie.”

  I ache from a place within me that wishes any part of what we feel for each other could be real, but it’s based off fear, lies, and a business transaction gone bad. This is the stuff of nightmares.

  And I have to end it. I have to get away. I have the gun. I can go now. And I have to go.

  I can’t risk my life for a stranger when my family needs me, and I need them.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, tucking the gun in my purse, the bulk of the weight in my lap and some resistance across the strap on my neck.

  He pinches his bottom lip with his fingers as he stares at me, and I look away.

  I can’t get caught up again, not in his life, and not in his eyes.

  He stands and walks past the seating area to the pool and rubs the back of his neck until he stops at the edge.

  Now. Now I should tell him I have to go.

  I stand and walk toward the pool, stopping a few feet away, just out of arm’s reach.

  “I should be going,” I say, already feeling guilty it sounds like I got the gun back and that was all I cared about.

  He doesn’t turn around, and I can’t move.

  I don’t want him to let me go so easily, but I can’t stay either. I walk up beside him, standing at the edge of the pool, and look over at him and his face glowing from the pool as he stares out into the woods. The natural smell of pine and cedar fills the air, not his cologne, but nature, overpowering even the chlorine.

  “Am I going to see you again?” he asks without looking at me.

  I study him, wondering what he means. Does he know I’m leaving?

  “Cathrine told me she’ll be my contact until further notice. That you’re leaving the company.”

  No point in lying now. “I am.”

  “And you weren’t going to tell me.” He crosses his arms over his chest, making his shirt tight over his muscles. “I get it. After everything, I do, but I don’t want it to end this way.” His dark eyes light up. “You did it. You did what was right for you.”

  “I did. I am.”

  He smiles and lets his arms drop to his sides, losing the barrier between us. “I like Josie better than Josephine,” he says in a low voice, “do you?” He reaches his hand out, his finger caressing the side of my hand, sliding down my baby finger.

  Before it falls, I wrap my finger around his. “Yes.”

  He takes a step closer until his cologne drowns out my other senses as he entwines h
is fingers with mine, holding my hand. “I want to get to know Josie.”

  “I—” I whisper, staring into his eyes as he leans in toward me and his lips crush into mine.

  The bristle of his mustache barely tickles my lip as his lips part mine, tequila-infused, and he runs his hand over my neck, his fingers through my hair.

  “Boss,” Danes calls. We both turn in his direction, and I pull my hand away as he steps through the sliding door, finally noticing us and stopping. “She’s blowing up your phone, man.”

  Tackman lets out a huff of breath. “Fine.” His shoulder presses against mine, and in a lower voice says, “I’ll be right back.” He leaves my side, striding over to Danes.

  This is my chance. My escape.

  “I should go,” I call to him.

  He stops and turns back to me. “This won’t take long. Stay. Please.”

  I fold my hands in front of me and nod, following him. “I have to use the washroom.”

  He nods, and we walk through the kitchen, Danes following him into the study, and they close the door behind them.

  I stop in the foyer by the door, press my back against the wall and touch my lips where the sensation of his kiss lingers.

  What am I doing?

  I push myself off the wall and stare down the hall at the door to the white room, where the hostage sits, the remaining one, hoping every second I’m coming back for him.

  I take a step toward the hallway and tuck my finger into my purse, feeling the smooth plastic of the keycard.

  Just me and him. No cameras. I’ll tell him to run out the back, stay close to the pool, away from the cameras, and out the woods there. To run and never come back, and I could do the same.

  I take another step toward the door and can hear Tackman’s muffled voice in the study.

  He trusts me. He wants me to trust him. I can get away without any issue and be there for my family without looking over our shoulders.

  “And I told you no,” his voice rises at the end.

  Did he and Cami have a thing, and now they’re not together?

  “And stop calling Danes! You don’t know that! You don’t know how hard it’s been for me...”

  Did he break up with her… for me?