“You as well.” I watch her vanish down the hallway.
Right as I hear the elevator doors shut, the oven beeps, and I take out the meatloaf and potatoes, leaving the dishes on the stovetop to cool. The warm aroma of a home-cooked meal fills the kitchen as I shrug off my jacket, placing it on the back of the stool at the kitchen island. I remove my tie, leaving it on the countertop, and the phone rings. I grab the receiver off the light gray wall and place it to my ear. “Yes?”
The security guard says, “Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Holt, and Mr. O’Keefe are here to see you, sir.”
“Send them up.” I hang up the phone and move toward the elevator, rolling up my sleeves.
By the time I’m there, the double doors open and all three DC men stride into my condo. I see the tension on every face in front of me, and I understand their concern. It’s rare we meet at one another’s houses.
“We need to make this quick,” says Micah. “I’ve got movie plans with Allie and Taylor tonight.”
“Of course. Please come in.” I turn, leading them into the open-concept living room, which overlooks the twinkling lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. I couldn’t be more relieved that Taylor’s got plans with Micah and Allie tonight. She needs a little normal with all that’s going on.
I move to the cappuccino-colored bar in the corner of the room and pour four glasses of my best scotch while they take their seats in the black leather chairs. I hand out the glasses, then I sit down on the white leather couch. Before I begin, I take a sip of the scotch, tasting the peaty flavor. “I know how the information is being fed to the tabloids,” I tell the group before focusing on Gabe. “It’s happening at your pub.”
He nearly spits out his drink and coughs. “Come again?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.” I see the anger tightening the expressions around me.
Ryder places his glass on the coffee table, eyes tight. “What proof do you have?”
“Earlier today, Gotcha! didn’t print the obvious choice of me with Alex,” I explain. “They printed another article about Taylor, giving her full name. They must have known her first name, but had to do some digging to find out her last name, which is why it took some time to get her name out there.”
“Okay,” Gabe drawls, staring intently at me. “But how is this about my pub?”
“When I read the article, it said that Taylor had been abused and that’s why she came home.”
“Which is true,” Micah interjects. “So, again, what does this have to do with Gabe’s pub?”
“They said something else that immediately caught my attention.” I hesitate, recalling the error I made the afternoon at Gabe’s pub. “When we met”—I glance at Micah—“and you decided to leave the DC, I had said that Taylor had bruises on the left side of her face, and that’s what the tabloid printed today.”
Ryder looks from Micah to Gabe and then to me and frowns. “I’m sorry, you’ve still lost me.”
“That day when I told you all that, I got it wrong. The bruises are on the right side of her face. But Taylor is wearing good makeup that hides the bruises. So…”
“So that little detail,” Ryder catches on, “is something only you know because you’ve seen her face without the makeup.”
I nod.
Silence.
And I understand why. This runs so much deeper than any of us ever expected. It means it’s not just some dipshit reporter reading between the lines and tying things together. Someone is out to get us.
I focus on Gabe. “Which tells me, along with what else has been printed about me in the tabloids lately, they are all things I’ve said in your pub.”
Micah’s posture stiffens. “Fucking hell.”
Even Gabe is shaking his head now, and he focuses solely on Micah. “Allie…”
“Yes, you’re right,” says Micah, eyes bright as he leans forward, obviously ready to act if he needs to. “I had called Allie a forbidden treasure at the pub that one night, and that’s the exact phrase they used in the article.” He shakes his head in clear disbelief. “I hadn’t put that together. But yes…yes, this fits.”
Gabe’s jaw clenches once, eyes ablaze. “And you also told me that night that you were betraying someone.”
Micah thrusts a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I did.” He rises, clearly unable to sit any longer, and turns to me. “Once they found out Allie was your sister, they must’ve just assumed I was talking about you.”
I nod. “That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
Ryder leans back in his seat, the only calm one in the room. “So, what are our theories here? That someone is spying on our conversations?”
“It must be,” I confirm. “But their motive is beyond me.” I ponder, then offer all I can come up with. “At first, I thought it was someone at my office, because they knew that Taylor was an ex-girlfriend of mine, but Ryder looked into the only people who worked for me when I dated Taylor.”
“And we ruled them out,” Ryder states. “No one has any motive for doing this. No financial trouble. No enemies. Not even any trouble in their lives that we could find. They were all squeaky clean.”
“So,” I continue, crossing an ankle over my knee. “Now I’m thinking this has to be some random person selling this information to the tabloids.”
Ryder asks, “But who in the hell would do this? I mean, it’s not as if they’re printing the stories we would expect them to print.”
Micah nods. “But maybe that is only because we have yet to slip up and discuss such things. I can only imagine they’re just waiting for us to give them the juiciest story possible.”
“Though,” I say my thoughts aloud, “it’s hard to believe that someone is coming to the pub at the right moments to catch these conversations.”
“Perhaps it’s not so random,” Ryder interjects. “It is possible someone is getting paid a great deal of money for this information to expose us to the media. It might not be one person acting alone.”
The thought sickens me because it makes me wonder what’s to come.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gabe growls. He takes a big gulp of his scotch, his jaw muscles flexing from the aftertaste, and clearly still processing all this, he says to Micah, “You even told me about Allie moving in with you at the pub.”
Micah nods, obvious tension crossing his expression. “Which explains why the paps were at Allie’s condo and captured that first photo of you and Taylor.”
I nod.
Gabe shoots to his feet, moving to the wall of windows behind us, staring out into the night. “I cannot fucking believe this is happening in my pub.”
“It’s the best place for it to happen,” I tell him, understanding the weight of responsibility he likely feels. “We’re very casual there, and I can only imagine that whoever is doing this knows that it’s the one place we have our guard down.” Because that is our place, where there is no business and no one putting us under the microscope. The one spot where we can kick back with a cold beer and great food.
Micah returns to his seat, and his brows pinch as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, swirling the scotch in his glass. “Where does this leave us, then?”
We all look at Ryder because he’s the expert.
His lips purse before he says, “Leave this with me. I’ll need to look into this before I come up with a plan on how to deal with it.” To Gabe, he asks, “Are the video cameras at the pub still working?”
Gabe glances over his shoulder with a tight expression and nods. “Yes, but we’ll need to contact our security company for access, since they store the video feed on their servers.”
“That’s fine.” Ryder downs the remainder of his scotch in one big gulp. “Once you get me access, I’ll get my team on this.” He places his glass on the coffee table, looking from face to face, dead serious. “I cannot stress enough that you need to be careful until we find out who’s behind this. Right now, you cannot trust anyone.”
&
nbsp; I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face, thinking only of Taylor. “And that’s different than any other day?”
Blank stares greet me, only reminding me how fucked up our lives truly are. The weight of guilt is pushing on my shoulders, and all that pressure feels aimed directly at Taylor. At one time in my life, I felt like my secrets would ruin me. That all I had worked so hard for would be stripped from me because people I didn’t know would judge me, and that judgment would make my investors walk away. But now I know that’s no longer true.
My secrets can do something worse than hurt me.
They can hurt Taylor.
Chapter 12
Taylor
With my workday well behind me, I park my car in the condo’s underground parking garage, exhausted to my bones from the four interviews I did today that got me no closer to hiring a new secretary.
On top of that, there’s so much to deal with after the magazine article that I can’t even begin to figure it all out yet. I decide I need something stronger than the wine I have in the fridge before I call Allie to cancel our movie plans. I want to hide and think. Then I can figure out the rest, which includes returning my mother’s phone call and explaining all this to her, as well as why I never told her in the first place.
I’m sorry for disappointing you. It feels so childish to still care about that, but it’s nonetheless true. I want them to be proud of me. This isn’t the woman I ever wanted to be. Hell, it’s not even the woman I feel like I am.
My heels click against the cement floor, and I’m cursing the blister on my ankle when I step out of the garage to stop by the market to grab a bottle of vodka.
One second, I’m enjoying the warm evening air.
The next, a flurry of lights is blinding me.
I raise my hands, trying to hide from all the photographers circling around me. So many voices are shouting at me that I can’t process the words being hurled in my direction until suddenly, the loud roar becomes something intelligible.
“Can you tell us about your past, Taylor?”
“Who hit you?”
“Are you dating Darius?”
“Taylor?”
“Over here. Taylor?”
“Taylor…Taylor…Taylor…”
I’m spinning in a circle, hiding from the lights. I can’t move, continuing to bump into bodies. The sounds of shutters clicking and the screaming of my name are deafening. I feel the world closing in on me, my heart racing with the need to flee, sweat forming along my spine, when suddenly a firm hand grips my arm, yanking me to the side. The world around me is spinning when I feel two softer hands on my arm now, and I hear a door behind me slamming shut.
“Are you okay?”
I gasp, blinking rapidly, trying to see past all the black spots in my vision. Then everything clears and I find Allie staring at me, concerned. “Yes, I’m okay,” I breathe. Again and again, I inhale and exhale, attempting to slow my heart rate and ground myself, refusing to allow panic to steal my control.
Micah moves away from the door. “Let’s get upstairs before anyone finds their way in here.”
My head is still spinning and my body is tingling with pins and needles, when Allie links her arm with mine and we hurry to the elevator. The entire way up, and even while we quickly head down the hallway toward Allie’s condo, I can’t stop shaking.
“Shh, it’s okay now,” she says softly, clearly feeling my trembling as we follow Micah inside the condo.
I break away from her hold, kicking off my shoes, and move to the living room, dropping down onto the chair in the corner. I wrap my arms around my legs, shut my eyes, and breathe deep and slow until I feel the slowing of my heart rate and my muscles going lax. I’ve never been prone to panic attacks, but I felt violated and fearful even though I wasn’t in danger.
When I open my eyes again, I find Micah and Allie sitting on the couch, watching me. “Sorry, I’m okay. That was just really unexpected and kinda scary.”
“No one was expecting that,” says Micah, grabbing the blanket off the couch and wrapping it around my shoulders.
I grab the ends, pulling the blanket tight against me. “How did you find me out there?”
Micah’s intent stare tells me my face must be a little pale, but it’s Allie who answers me. “We saw you going out the door when we drove in. Then we heard all the yelling.”
“God,” I exhale deeply, relishing the slowing of my heartbeat. “I have no idea how that is not considered abuse.” All those people shouting at me, taking my picture without my consent, all for a story that is not anyone’s business.
“It should be,” Micah agrees, returning to his seat beside Allie.
I smile fondly at him, then ask Allie, “Did you see the tabloid today?”
She nods. “I did. I called, but you didn’t answer.”
I hadn’t talked to anyone. After I ended the interview with Sally, I turned off my phone and just left…maybe even sort of in a daze, I realize now. “How in the hell would they know about Shawn?” I direct the question at Micah.
He thrusts a hand through his dark hair, eyes tight with concern. “It seems that our friend Gabe has a spy in his pub.”
I blink. “A spy?”
“Unbelievable, right?” Allie comments.
“Totally,” I agree, shifting on the couch, facing them. “How did you find that out?”
Micah grabs Allie’s hand on his thigh, tangling his fingers in hers. “Because of the error of what was printed today.”
I didn’t need him to explain. I noticed the error myself. “The bruises being on the wrong side of my face, you mean?”
He nods.
That also can mean only one thing. I shift in the chair, holding the blanket around me a little tighter. “Does that mean Darius talked about…me there?”
“They’re really close, Taylor,” Allie interjects softly. “And Micah just asked how you were doing, that’s all.”
Micah nods. “Darius isn’t at fault here. I brought it up—”
I wave him off. I can’t hate that Darius has close friends. “Thanks for worrying enough to ask about me. This isn’t anyone’s fault.”
Allie gives me a soft smile of obvious relief and adds, “They’re looking into it more to see if they can find out who is spying on them there.”
Unreal. A spy? Even I couldn’t believe it. To Micah I say, “You do realize you all lead very fucked-up lives, right?”
He nods. “Sadly, yes.”
“It’s just crazy,” says Allie, glancing at Micah with nothing but fierce love in her eyes. “None of you should have to deal with this. You shouldn’t be so afraid to live your lives because someone is going to tell the world personal things about you.”
His eyes warm as he brushes a finger across her cheek.
I glance away, feeling like I’m invading a very private moment between them.
But apparently I’m the only one who thinks so, because Micah’s voice turns my head. “I’m so very sorry you are dealing with this, Taylor.”
“Thanks,” I reply, feeling a heavy weight of despair fill my chest. “Ugh. There’s just so much to think about I don’t even know where to start to fix it all.” I shut my eyes once more, blowing out a long, deep breath to shed the remaining adrenaline rushing through me. And as the seconds drag on, I realize someone is missing. If Allie and Micah knew about the tabloid story, so did Darius.
I reopen my eyes, sitting up a little. “Where’s Darius?”
Micah answers, “I stopped by his home earlier and he asked me to come see you to make sure you were okay.”
My heart sinks a little when Allie adds, “I guess he’s going out with Alex again. They’re trying to get the focus back on him.”
Of course I hope that tomorrow’s tabloids aren’t about me, but I can’t fight off the sting of his absence. I don’t want Darius with Alex. I want him with me, comforting me with his touch like Micah’s comforting Allie. “What story is he giving the tabloids now?”
/> Allie rises and goes into the kitchen to pour two glasses of wine and grab Micah a beer as he explains, “He’s setting up a scene where Alex walks up to see him kissing another one of Ryder’s investigators. Alex is going to slap him across the face and they’re going to have a screaming match on the street.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t see how changing one story of abuse with another is helping anyone.”
“No,” Allie says, returning to us, offering Micah his beer before handing me my glass of wine. “But I don’t doubt that Darius would rather the focus be on him than on you.”
That’s sweet, is what I should say. But I can’t force the words from my mouth. I can only stare at Allie as I lift the glass to my mouth and take a sip of the dry red wine, wishing it was the vodka I planned on getting. She knows exactly how I feel because we’ve had this conversation before. Darius isn’t where he should be. I want him here.
My heart clenches, but I force the thoughts away. I know what Darius can give me. He never made me any promises. And, in fact, he was very clear about this thing between us only being sex. I guess my heart just forgets that sometimes. “Will he call when it’s all taken care of?”
Micah nods. “That is the plan.”
Allie pats my knee and smiles. “We’ll stay here until we know that everything is settled. So, since the movies is clearly a no-go, how about we get takeout?”
“As long as it’s greasy and comes with fries, I’m so in,” I reply.
“Done.” Micah rises from his seat, grabbing his cellphone from his pocket, and moves to the wall of windows.
Allie slides into his spot, closer to me, and takes my hand. “It’s going to be all right,” she says. “Soon the tabloids will forget all about you and move on to someone else.”
It feels wrong to want that. But it feels even more horrible not to want that. “God, this is such a disaster. I cannot imagine this getting any worse.”
A loud knock on the door snaps my head up. Before anyone can even open it, two people are charging into the room. I heave the longest sigh of my life, staring at my very angry parents. Now probably wasn’t the best time to regret putting my parents on my approved list of visitors. “Nope, I’m wrong. This can absolutely get worse, and it just did.”
Tied to His Betrayal Page 14