Surrender To Me (Surrender Trilogy Book 2)

by Raven J. Spencer

  Now I need to get back to the hotel and explain to my wife that our plans have been altered once again. Damn Laydon. I make a habit out of never wishing anyone bad, but should something happen to him in prison, I admit I wouldn’t mind. He has destroyed so many lives, it could hardly happen to a worse person.

  Back in my rental, I drive the road famously featured in many movies, oblivious to the idyllic scenery. I still can’t believe this happened, to Colette of all people who had nothing to do with project Emilia. What is all that money worth if I still can’t erase this kind of evil from the world?

  I come back to the hotel room to a dubious surprise. Penelope, naked and tipsy, lounging in a hot bath. She can take a bath and drink champagne whenever she pleases, but not this time, not today when I told her to stay put and not open the door to anyone.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Oh no. She sounds like she’s been crying. “You never tell me anything!”

  “That’s because I want you to stay alive!”

  She stares at me in shock, and I feel the emotion reverberate inside myself. I’ve never yelled at her like this, never intended to. It’s not her fault, she doesn’t know—which is completely my fault, but thinking of Colette and how easily someone could have gotten in here with a tray, a bottle of champagne, and a gun, something snapped.

  “Baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—of course I meant that I want you to stay alive, but that was uncalled for. Come, let’s get you out of here and talk.”

  She’s crying again, and so I touch her carefully, drawing her close, regardless of the fact that water and bubble bath get on my dress. Some things are more important.

  Behind her back, though, I check my watch and realize we have less than an hour to get ready and to the airport. I’ll have a lot to make up for.

  * * * *

  Dressed in one of the fluffy robes, Penelope sits in the armchair as I change and lay out clothes for her as well.

  “We have to leave in half an hour. Please, hear me out,” I say, knowing this is catching her off guard again. “Something happened at home. Now, there is a connection to what we did for Emilia, but she and the kids are okay. Colette will come to stay with us for a while.”

  “Colette,” she says, surprised. “Why?”

  Buttoning my shirt, I pause for a moment, trying to find the words, trying to hide my anger, not wanting to scare her or think anything like it could happen again, to any of us. It won’t.

  “Someone broke into her apartment and took her. She was beaten, possibly tortured…some of our guys got her out, and she’ll be staying with us to recover.”

  Penelope’s eyes widen in the course of my narrative, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh my God. Is she…is she going to be okay? Can we do that, provide the care that she—”

  “I have a physician, a nurse and a therapist on standby. Marlene and Nick will have everything ready for her. It’s the safest place for her right now.”

  “Okay then.” Penelope gets up and slips out of the robe, dressing in the clothes I chose for her, comfortable pants and a shirt for the long flight. She looks lost in thought.

  “I didn’t tell you this to scare you.”

  “I know. I’m glad you told me. I can get over myself and be there for you too.”

  “I know that. Let’s go now. The jet is waiting.”

  It’s a lot to take in, I’m aware of that. There are priorities to take care of now, and Penelope is still the most important one.

  With a sense of sadness, I draw the door of the hotel room closed. I would have loved to surprise her and take her to Paris, too.

  Another time.

  We can’t take off at the scheduled time because of weather, which adds to my impatience. Approximately nine hours in the air. It will be late afternoon when we arrive, due to the time zones. The waiting is driving me crazy, and I’m grateful for Penelope by my side, still shaken, pensive, but calm.

  I’ve never needed her this much. I’m also worried. What if this is just the beginning?

  * * * *

  When we arrive, I ask Penelope to meet me for dinner later, as this might take a while. Now that she knows what this is all about, she fortunately agrees and tells me to give Colette her best.

  Colette needs all that and more. Nick and Marlene have arranged for her to leave the hospital, and Dr. Howard to examine her. I get the verdict from the physician, and she assures me that Colette will likely make a full recovery, but it will take time. Then, there’s no more reprieve. I walk into the suite, and freeze at the first look. She has her left arm and leg in a cast, the colourful bruise around her eye another reminder of her ordeal. She sits in a wheelchair by the window when I come in.

  “Carter,” she greets me. “I wish I could take advantage of your hospitality under different circumstances.”

  “Me too.” I carefully reach out to touch her shoulder, feeling her flinch. Someone will have to pay for this, and I’m not just thinking about getting them behind bars.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Colette shrugs and winces. “Not your fault, and you know it. Thanks for having me here, anyway. You’re not obliged.”

  “Oh yes, I am. I have a good staff around here. We’ll all do our part to get you through this.”

  A shadow crosses her face. “Be careful,” she says. “If Nick and Muriel hadn’t gotten me out…” Colette doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I get the picture. “Laydon was never interested in me, personally. He knew that I had no idea where you were hiding Emilia. He wants to get back at you.”

  This is not something you want to hear after a nine-hour-flight and jetlag hitting you in the face.

  “He’s coming for everyone you care about. You better keep them close.”

  “What can he do from behind bars, really?”

  “He could do this,” she says, and it’s hard to argue with a woman who barely escaped with her life.

  “You have everything you need for now? I had Marlene talk with the doctor, so if there’s anything…”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to get back on your feet. Hey, I need you in this.”

  She gives a bitter laugh, so unlike Colette who never bends, never backs down. “Not in a hurry.”

  “Take all the time you need. You’re safe here.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  After giving her what I hope is an encouraging smile, I leave the room and on the other side, lean against the door for a moment. I’ll deal with this. I always do. Ruthless, cocky men like Laydon have tried to stop me before.

  Just for a brief moment, the burden of responsibility seems overwhelming, giving me the urge to retreat to a quiet room and have a meltdown in private. Then I straighten and go see my wife.

  * * * *

  I feel a little better when I sit down to eat with Penelope who can barely keep her eyes open. I’ve been in touch with my mother, my siblings and several members of my security staff. I’m unsure how much of Colette’s theory stems from her recent trauma, but I won’t take any chances.

  Here at home, Nick and I are in charge, and I know, Penelope is safe. We can breathe for a moment. Still, I’m uneasy, tired, hungry and distracted. How could this happen? Security is always tight. I didn’t have someone watch Colette all the time, but her colleagues, her supervisors had to be aware if Laydon still presented a danger to the investigators. Why didn’t anybody realize that? My head is spinning.

  “How is she doing?” Penelope asks, her quiet tone startling me nonetheless. She’s been incredibly patient, waiting for me, not asking any questions. I finally turn my attention back to her, to our future.

  “Colette will be okay. We’ll have to talk about a couple of things. You’re still off from university for a few days, right?”

  She nods.

  “Okay, until we know exactly what we’re dealing with here, this is what we’ll do. Muriel will go to work with you, and she’ll enroll in your classes as well. I donated so much to that u
niversity, they should be able to do me a little favor.”

  I can tell from her surprised expression that she wasn’t aware. Convincing a dean and university president that one of their students needs a break, but can’t loose her place, doesn’t happen just like that.

  “Like a bodyguard?”

  “It won’t be forever, I swear, but I need you to come back home the moment you’re off, no detours. It’s important, Penelope.”

  “You’re still mad I ordered the champagne?”

  “I’m not mad, but I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I wish I could say anything to this, but I just don’t know,” she admits. “I’m exhausted.”

  “So am I. Let’s call it a night, and tomorrow we’ll talk about this more, okay?”

  Penelope agrees. I hope for a few hours of rest for all of us before we can tackle this issue—and hopefully kick it in the balls. I’m not talking metaphorically.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick and I meet at the Café Vienna where I first laid eyes on Penelope and not only had plans to get her out of danger, but also fell for her. Nick, on the other hand, fell hard for the famous Sacher tart. After all the hard work he’s done in the past few days, coordinating everyone’s safety and investigating into some bad guys, he’s earned a break.

  I stick with black coffee, like the last time.

  “This is what we know,” he says. “Laydon had no outside contact to anyone except his lawyer who looks clean.”

  In light of all this, he still keeps a healthy appetite. I’m feeling slightly sick.

  “So this was an inside job? Someone in law enforcement helped with the communication?”

  “I don’t know yet, but we will find out,” Nick promises. “Meanwhile, I have our folks reporting in every hour, no change, nothing out of order.”

  “I sent Muriel with Penelope.” He just nods, knowing that she’s the best woman for the job. Muriel is one of our success stories, and, of course, her own. She turned her life around after the trauma, learned to fight, be at home in her body, push back, against her own fears and the evil in this world. I gladly paid for those lessons, in therapy and her training to eventually become one of my best. She’s done great work for me in Europe, but I’m glad she’s here now, looking after Penelope.

  She’s dangerous. That’s good.

  He lays a couple of photos on the table. One is a mug shot, the other a more casual photograph of a man in a bar, sitting next to Laydon.

  “Cole Baxter,” I say, dumbfounded. “That’s not possible. I thought they had him.”

  “Apparently they had to let him go, and he had to prove to the boss that he didn’t talk. He’s back in his good graces as it seems.”

  “The FBI is looking hard for him, I hope.”

  “Sure, they want to know. Grady’s lover has been making some inquiries as well.”

  “He should be careful. He’s personally involved.”

  I swear, Nick is a tad amused at that, but the emotion doesn’t last long, the subject matter too serious.

  “I want him, and the people who put him up to this. Can we do that so I can go on my honeymoon for real this time?”

  Nick waits, patiently, knowing that I still have the barriers up, and I need to, in order to keep all the emotions in. One almost good night’s sleep is not enough. I know I’m doing everything possible to help Colette through this, but what I really wish for is that it never happened. Muriel, Emilia, what almost became Penelope’s fate, now her…and the many stories of the women passing through the news cycle, if at all, dismissed, forgotten, because that’s how the world works. It makes me so angry, even at Nick who is a good guy and has dedicated his life and career to the work we do, cleaning up messes in places where politics and law enforcement can’t reach. He’s angry too, but I’m not sure if it can ever be the same, the gut punch you feel every time you hear about the horror that happens to a person because she is female.

  Cole Baxter wasn’t an innocent man before he broke into Colette’s apartment. He was one of the higher ups in Laydon’s organization, probably gave away some names in order to get out.

  “I need to talk to Colette again.”

  “I did. I think we know everything she knows. She didn’t make those decisions, and she had no control over them. Of course everyone thought Baxter would lay low.”

  “They never lay low,” I say grimly. “All right. Keep me posted. I need to get some work done, and I’ll talk to Colette anyway.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  “You will.”

  * * * *

  I spend the next few hours in my offices, catching up on the past few days, clearing my head. I still get a few congratulations from people blissfully unaware of all the trouble brewing—it’s like they are living in a parallel universe.

  However, it’s true, I’m married, and happy. The thought puts an unexpected smile on my face, a moment of room to breathe. We still have to learn to navigate the waters, clash, argue. I know Penelope is not too happy about having a shadow, and the role-play maybe wasn’t my best idea.

  Still, I don’t regret anything, not that we are together or the odd circumstances that led us there.

  I remember that I was nominated for a business award, and the event is tomorrow night, as my assistant reminds me. I pushed all of this out of my mind earlier, to just be with Penelope for a while, get married, have some time away from it all. See how that worked out…The Women Executives Alliance had second thoughts after the FBI investigation, but remembered where a lot of my money goes, globally. I wasn’t uninvited or un-nominated, which is a good thing, I guess, even though I could do other things with my time. Stop being so jaded, I tell myself. It’s important. It matters to show the old and the new boys’ network that women can do anything.

  Penelope’s influence shows. On purpose or not, she has always challenged me to be better. She’ll probably enjoy this type of event, because for her, it’s important to counter all that wealth with doing good, sometimes a bit frantically. I know where she’s coming from.

  Then it’s time to shift my focus again, no more reprieves—I have to see Colette. The updates I get from the doctor and the shrink are helpful, but I need to hear from her, the brutal truth.

  There hasn’t been much of a change when I step in her room half an hour later. She’s sitting at the window, staring outside, not showing any interest in doing much else.

  “Are you in pain?”

  She shrugs. “I got good meds. It’s all bearable.”

  “Good.” I join her by the window, leaning against it, effectively blocking her view. “So what are your plans?”

  “Plans?” She laughs bitterly. “I guess you’re aware. There’s a long time of PT ahead. If I go back to the Bureau, and that’s a big ‘if’ at this point, it’s probably going to be desk duty. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I don’t want a pity solution.”

  “It’s not pity. They can’t kick you out when none of this was your fault.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You’ll be better, I promise. The doctor said your prognosis is good, and of course you can stay here as long as you need.”

  “Thanks. I’ll remember that the next time you get into hot water with the FBI.” She smiles wryly. “So, about Penny Elliot.”

  Under normal circumstances I would make it clear to her that everything she wants to say from here is probably none of her business, but these circumstances are far from normal. “What about her?”

  “You married your kidnap victim,” she says in a tone so matter-of-fact it makes me cringe.

  “You make me sound really bad. Besides, you took her home, and she came to see me afterwards.”

  “Yeah, you make it hard for people to let go.” I’m a bit taken aback, not sure if she means our longstanding agreement, or something that happened many years ago. Either way, I’m not sure if what she’s implied is at all flattering.

  “I’ve always wondered ab
out some things,” Colette says, “little details that never really came to light, because we all stuck to your version in the end, and Penny backed you up of course. Since I put my ass on the line for many of your ‘operations,’ and I can’t go anywhere and am bored to death, I was wondering if we could finally have that conversation. I know Laydon was involved, the fake agent and a contact whose brother made a pass at her in a bar. That’s bad news, but…there wasn’t any other way to ensure her safety? I know we briefly talked about this, and you’re probably not going to tell me more. That closet, however…”

  “What, you’re jealous? I can send you shopping once you’re up to it.”

  Somehow I know that this time, she won’t be satisfied with the joke or superficial explanations—and she’s right, she has risked a lot for me and my side business.

  “Look, we knew that Laydon’s people were about to strike. Baxter had been spotted in the area as well, and you know what he does.”

  She shudders, but holds my gaze.

  “Not only did we want to protect Penelope, but this also seemed like a chance to get to all of them. Okay, yes, I bought her some clothes and toiletry.”

  Colette snorts.

  “Part of it was meant to be a distraction, so she wouldn’t ask too many questions. That didn’t work very well.” I suppress the smile, remembering those early interactions Penelope and I had. “We went to see her at the café, make sure her schedule hadn’t changed. Nick had already checked. There was an unopened bottle of wine in her fridge. On Friday, she poured herself a glass, then went to the bathroom to take a shower first. In the meantime, Nick came in and put the sedative in her glass. He waited until it took effect, collected her papers and got her out of the apartment, to the hangar where the jet was waiting. We took it from there. Anything else you wanted to know?”

  “That’s quite the story already. Humor me, though. What made her different from the other women you’ve helped? What made the difference in that one interaction you had?”