by Peak, Renna
There were no guards here—none of the almost constant Secret Service protection that surrounded the senator everywhere he went. Marian probably felt comfortable here. This was her home and she didn’t need any more security than Cade or another bodyguard could provide for her.
The gun at my back guided me through a darkened hallway into a room that had to be a library—bookcases lined the walls. The room itself was dark; there were a few lamps, but no floor-level windows that would have let in any of the ambient light from the main pathway. The few windows in the room were above the bookcases—at least twenty feet in the air. It almost could have been a safe room—there was only one way in and it looked secure.
Cade closed the door behind us after dropping the gun from where it had almost certainly left a barrel shaped mark against my back, it had been held there for so long. He nodded at me, motioning with his head toward the desk at the back of the room. Someone was there, but their back was turned so I couldn’t see who it was at first.
I approached the desk, my heart beginning to hammer again. The person at the desk turned and I recognized her immediately. Marian Hennessey. She was what people probably would have described as a handsome woman. I had never seen the resemblance between her and Jen, and when the news had broken that she wasn’t biologically related to Jen, it had made sense. It wasn’t her looks that put people off, though. It was her. She had this air about her—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but whatever it was scared the living shit out of me. I would have had a gun at my back or temple any day rather than face this woman.
Her eyes narrowed as I approached the desk. “Sit.”
She had made no motion with her arms, but I did as she commanded. I took a seat in one of the antique chairs in front of the desk, trying to let my chin quiver like a blubbering baby.
“Brandon Richardson.” She sat down in the chair behind the desk and began drumming her fingernails on the mahogany. She glared at me for what seemed like an eternity, not saying a word.
I had no idea what it was that she wanted me to say. What in the hell are you supposed to say when you’re brought in front of a woman that you’re sure would have no problem snapping your neck without provocation?
She let out an angry sigh, pursing her lips as she glared at me, waiting for my response.
I had never been a pussy. I had been through more—seen more in my short life than most people would have seen in a hundred lifetimes. But this woman—something about her was off. I wasn’t sure if I had ever known how to describe evil, but at that moment, I would have said hers was the face of it.
The only sound breaking the long silence was the constant clicking of her fingernails on the desk. If I hadn’t been so sure she would have broken my wrist, I would have reached out to make her stop.
She let out another angry sigh. “If you’re not going to say anything, I will. You have fucked everything up. Do you understand that? Fucked. Everything. Up.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t really known I was holding. I had fucked everything up? I couldn’t explain why, but my fear melted away in an instant and turned into something darker. Something I had been holding onto for too long. “From where I’m sitting, you fucked everything up.”
Her eyes widened for a moment, almost as though she was shocked that I’d had the balls to speak at all, not just to challenge her. “How so?”
“Well, Mrs. Hennessey-Davis. That is what you prefer to be called, right? Isn’t that what you said to me the last time we met?”
Her eyes narrowed in response, her lips curling into a sneer. But she said nothing.
“I had a plan, too. One that included Jen and I never seeing you again. I assume you’re on the same page with me there, right? That you’d also prefer not to see her again?”
She folded her hands tightly on the table, the drumming of her nails coming to a sudden stop. “You have no idea what I would prefer.”
I glanced over my shoulder toward the door. Cade was pretending to look at a shelf of books, but I knew he was listening to every word. I turned back to face her. “Maybe I don’t. But I know what I want. And what I wanted was to get your daughter…” I cleared my throat—I had no idea what she called Jen now that they were officially not mother and daughter. “I wanted to get Jen away from this circus. Forever. Never to see you or her father again. Because from where I’m sitting…” I turned and glanced at Cade again before lowering my voice so that only she could hear me. “That’s the best thing for everyone here.”
“We aren’t as far apart on your wishes as you realize. Your desire for the future, that is.” Her eyes narrowed, but it didn’t look like it was anger behind them this time. It was something else—regret, maybe. Her own voice lowered. “I have only one wish, Mr. Ri—“
She cut herself off, her voice almost breaking at the sound of my last name. My brow furrowed—I had no idea what it was that she was feeling when she heard that name, but there was something. I had a vague idea that it probably had to do with my father, but I didn’t challenge her with it.
She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, I have everything I could ever need or want in my life. I have only one wish—one thing that has eluded me for all these years.”
“Having to call Jenna your daughter sucked for you. I get it. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t ask for that—you have no reason…” I leaned forward to make my point—I knew I would never have this kind of opportunity with her again. “No right to do the things you’ve done to her. Bringing her here—forcing her to live some bullshit life hidden in plain sight—“
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes narrowed to almost slits. “I forced Jenna to do nothing.”
Her words were like a punch in the throat and I lost my ability to speak for a moment. Jen had said she had done everything willingly—I just hadn’t believed it. I wanted to believe she hadn’t had a choice—that someone had forced her to stay away from me.
“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, you ruined my plans. You.”
“If I had known about your plans, I might not have had to—“
Her hands balled into fists and I could see she was trying to shake with the anger that was building inside her. “You say you want Jenna, correct?” She spoke through her clenched jaw.
“Yes.”
“I have an offer for you, Mr. Ri—Brandon.” Her shoulders dropped slightly and I could see her jaw relax. “There is a way we can both have what we want.”
“I’m listening.”
“My only problem is with your employer, Brandon.” Not saying my last name made her fists relax, and she folded her hands together. Something of a smile formed on her lips. “I’m not sure I can trust you, but I’m going to give you an opportunity.”
“As I’ve said on many occasions, Mrs. Hennessey-Davis, I’m a freelancer. I don’t have an employer.”
She chuckled, pulling her hands into her lap. Her eyes crinkled with the first genuine smile I think I had ever seen on her face. “We both know that is a crock of shit, for lack of a more sophisticated term.”
I laughed out loud despite myself. “What is it you’re asking of me, exactly?”
The smile fell away from her lips. “I understand that Jenna told you tonight that I have been working with both Cade and Krystal for the past several months. When the opportunity to get Jenna involved presented itself, it was too good to pass up. I hope you understand it was nothing personal. For you, that is.” She took in a long breath. “It was intended quite personally for your employer.”
“I see.” I met her gaze across the desk for a long moment. “And you’re afraid that whatever we discuss is going to be relayed to him.”
“Precisely.” She smiled again, though it was more of the phony smile I had come to expect from the Davis women in these kinds of situations. “And that is why I’m going to give you the opportunity to prove yourself to me, Brandon. And if you should choose to do so, I can give you ev
erything you want.”
I shook my head. The only thing I wanted was Jen. And there was no way she could deliver her to me. My best bet was still working with her father—I knew there was no other way.
“You doubt me, and I fully understand that.” She opened one of the drawers in the desk and pulled out several folders. She slid them across the mahogany toward me. “I’ve been planning for this day for a long time, Brandon. I didn’t quite envision it with you sitting in the same room with me, but we have to take whatever life hands us, don’t we?”
I lifted a brow and opened the top folder. There were photos of a house on the top of the stack of papers with property deeds underneath.
She lifted an envelope from the desk drawer and slid that one across as well. “This one has the travel documents for Jenna. You’ll have to provide your own.”
I shook my head, glancing through the next folder then the next. They were all similar—photos of homes and the deeds to the property. “I don’t understand.”
“I would suggest the Costa Rica property. It’s on the beach—I’m sure you’re aware of Jenna’s feelings about being near water. The Venezuela property is the nicest, but quite a distance from the ocean. But I’ll leave the decision up to you.”
I pushed the folders back across the desk. “I really don’t understand what you’re asking.”
She let out a flustered sigh, pushing the folders toward me again. “I’m not asking you anything. I’m offering you one of these properties. Jenna has been asking for a normal life—whatever that means to her—for as long as I can recall. She more than proved she can live that life, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Yes, she more than proved it by living in that hell hole you made her live in—“
The roll of her eyes interrupted me. I could almost see Jen in that eye roll. “I made her do nothing, Brandon. She chose that life. She could have just as easily chosen to stay here until the election. Living in Waterville was her decision. It was what she wanted.”
I opened the top folder again. The home was nice—small, but I was positive it was a house Jen would want to live in. Understated and normal. I stared at the beach house in the photo. “What is it you’re asking of me?”
“I need you to kill me.”
2
Four Days Later
No latch.
I had seen these windows at least a thousand times since I had lived here. I had just never had the need to climb up the bookcase in the library to check them. And now that I was twenty feet in the air and dangling precariously on my tiptoes to reach the damn window—there was no latch. The stupid thing didn’t open at all. I looked over at its twin a few feet away and saw it also didn’t open to the outside. Probably because whoever made the house didn’t think this room was going to be used for the purposes it had been used for the past several days.
“My fucking luck.” I muttered my words under my breath, making the mistake of glancing down at the floor. I sucked in a breath and looked up again—twenty feet was a hell of a lot farther up than it had seemed when I had decided to climb up this high. And I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get down without killing myself.
My heart began to race and a cold chill ran down my spine when I heard an unfamiliar male clear his throat across the room. I held onto the edge of the top of the bookcase and turned slowly, trying to be careful to keep my balance on the narrow ledge.
The man lifted a brow. “Miss Davis? Do you need help?” He seemed like he was trying to stifle a laugh.
I turned back to my predicament. I was sure I looked ridiculous, but I was equally as sure I didn’t need help. Not his help, anyway. None of the people who were supposedly “protecting” me these past days were my friends. Not one of them would tell me what in the hell was going on or when I was going to be let out of this library-turned-cage.
I let out a slow breath, trying to calm myself. “I’m fine.” I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I knew if I lost it the way I had a few hours ago, I would fall. A fleeting thought passed through my head that maybe—just maybe—if I fell and broke a leg or two, they would have to let me out of here. They would have to take me to a hospital, and maybe then someone would tell me what in the hell was going on instead of keeping me prisoner here.
“Yes, ma’am.” He paused, probably waiting for me to turn back around to look at him.
I shook the thought of purposely trying to harm myself from my head. The last thing I needed was people thinking I was trying to commit some kind of self-harm again—that kind of stuff always got into the tabloids somehow. “Is there something you needed? I’m a little busy.”
I could hear the stifled laughter when he cleared his throat again. “Yes, ma’am. You have a visitor.”
“Fine.” My heart was racing again at the thought, though I tried not to let my excitement show in my voice. “Show them in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I heard someone enter the room behind me, stopping just inside the door. I knew it would have only been one of three people—and I hadn’t seen two of them since I had been locked away in this stupid room however many days ago it had been.
“I hope you weren’t waiting to be rescued.” His voice was low—almost a growl, but I could hear the edge of sarcasm in it. “My fear of heights is almost as bad as my fear of water.”
I pressed my lips together to hide the grin I could feel forming. There was nothing funny about this situation. It was ridiculous, but there was nothing amusing about it. “I was just checking to see if the housekeepers have been dusting up here.” I reached down with my foot to find the edge of the next shelf below me, securing my footing before bringing my other foot down to join it. “They’re doing a fine job, in case you were wondering.”
“I’ve always wondered how they managed to dust up there. I guess I suspected it was with the ladder-thing that’s over there…”
I glanced over at the other wall of bookshelves, seeing for the first time the ladder-thing that Brandon was talking about. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. It was almost like I wanted to put my life in danger on some subconscious level. I shook my head and took another tenuous step down, finding my footing before doing it again and again once more. I jumped to the ground and turned to face him.
He met my gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as a tiny smile formed on his lips.
The sight of him still took my breath away, making my knees turn to jelly. I couldn’t deny what I still felt for him—what I had felt for him for so long now. But there was something new there, too. A little twist of guilt in my stomach that hadn’t been there before. I knew this situation was one of my own making. Everything—every horrible thing that had happened had been my own fault, as difficult as it was to admit. And he … he didn’t deserve this. I knew what I needed to do. I’d had so much time to think about it over the past several days that I was sure it was the right thing, even though I knew it was going to hurt more than anything had hurt before.
I had to let him go.
Just the thought of it made my eyes burn with tears. The thought of never seeing him again made my chest ache with a pain I was sure I would never learn to live with. But it was the right thing to do. It was only fair to him.
I took in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if I could get the words out without falling apart. “Brandon, I—“
He interrupted. “The bathroom windows open. I saw two guards standing outside when I pulled up, but if you waited until dark, you could probably get around them. If I was determined to escape, that’s what I would do.” He smiled. “But you need to have a plan for after you get out of the house. It’s at least a mile to the gate, and the razor wire around the rest of the compound might make it difficult. Painful, at least.”
I smiled. “The beach. I was going to wait until low tide and try to get around the southern rock wall.” I let out another long breath. “We should talk. You don’t deserve this.” I made a motion with my arm—something like a game sh
ow model displaying what a contestant could win. “Any of this.”
His gaze narrowed again, but his smile didn’t fall away. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult, Jen.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, shaking my head. I opened my eyes and met his gaze again. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant—“
“That you feel guilty.” He nodded, looking around the room before his blue eyes met mine. “You don’t have anything to feel bad about. You had nothing to do with any of it.”
I shook my head. “I had plenty to do with it. I wouldn’t be in my grandfather’s library—the only safe room in this compound, apparently—if I hadn’t been involved in her plot. And if I could have just stayed here … if I could have just hidden here until fall, none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t had to live some sort of ‘real life’ everything would have been fine. If I wouldn’t have insisted that I be allowed to leave this place, I wouldn’t be a prisoner here, waiting for someone to figure out who killed her.” I blinked back my tears, refusing to let myself cry again about the mess I had made. “No one would have killed her if I would have just sat quietly and waited for the right time, just like she asked.”
He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the floor, his voice lowering with it. “Jen, the medical examiner ruled it a suicide. They aren’t out looking for a murderer.”
“What?” My voice had turned into something of a screeching howl. My eyes widened—what he said was impossible, and I knew I must have heard him wrong. “What?”
He nodded. “They ruled it a suicide.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s impossible. Marian Hennessey would never … would have never…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, but I knew there was no way that the woman who had raised me would have ever taken her own life. And there was no way that if she somehow had, she would have done it like that. “The blood, Brandon.” I shook my head again. “She couldn’t have.”
“I know.” He took a step toward me. “Jen, you should probably sit down.”