by BJ Wane
There had been no censure from his uninvited guest when he’d revealed yet another part of himself lacking in moral fiber, nor had there been a calculating gleam of interest in getting an invitation to join him in the easy lifestyle his money allowed him. Her sneaky disappearance without asking for help with whatever problem she’d been fleeing from proved her only interest in him those few days had been for the temporary escapism sex offered her.
Edgy irritation churned in Zach’s gut that had nothing to do with the crappy poker hand he’d been dealt. Tossing down the worst three cards to exchange, he told Jackson, “Assign a task to me. I’ll be there.” Not a one of them bothered to mask their surprise, which only increased his annoyance. “What?” he snapped. “I’m bringing the food, which has to be there early. Can’t I help out also?”
Jackson must have caught something of the storm brewing inside Zach reflected on his face or in his voice because he was quick to divert the conversation. “Thanks. An extra pair of hands is always welcome.” Laying down his cards, he gloated with a smirk, “Three aces, gentlemen. Read ‘em and weep.”
Sean took the next pot, the rest of them demanding a chance for payback the next time they got together. Zach’s mood had improved during the game and outing, despite the continued nagging images of Sandie’s face stealing time from his friends. He’d get over her, he kept insisting in a silent litany. Maybe she was the one who’d take a little longer or require more effort, but he was still confident the persistent thoughts of her were an anomaly and nothing more. Which didn’t explain his instant, lightning bolt reaction when they gathered to disembark together at the marina and Miles strode toward him waving Sandie’s drawing pad.
“Hey, what’s this? I found it behind a lounge.”
“Give me that.” Snatching it from his hand, Zach kept the book of sketches closed, held down against his thigh as the guys leveled yet more surprised glances his way.
“Come on, Zach. What gives?” Trevor asked.
“Nothing, it’s just not mine to share.” Sandie had kept the drawings to herself during their time together and the least he could do would be to honor her privacy. Who knows, maybe she’d return for it and he could spend another few days working her out of his system for good. One could only hope.
“And he’ll tell us about it when he’s good and ready, you guys know that. Zach, thanks for the afternoon. Later everyone.” Sean jumped off the yacht and ambled down the pier without a backward glance, expecting the others, they knew, to follow his lead. For once, Zach found himself grateful for the shrink’s mental manipulating.
Zach entered the offices of Vancuren Investments the next morning wondering what the hell he was doing there. They held board meetings on Wednesdays, and yes, he’d been at sea last week and had missed the meeting, but, so what? It hadn’t been the first one he’d passed on, and they certainly didn’t need him there to conduct business. The only thing he was really good for was signing off on any changes in their policies and going over the books once a month. Floyd Vancuren hadn’t managed to become listed among other Fortune 500 companies by being stupid. He’d safeguarded his company by putting people in charge he not only trusted, but who were among the brightest in the financial investment world. So, why had he allowed his discontent after returning from a morning run lead him in this direction?
Deciding since he was here, he’d just pop upstairs and check over the minutes from last week’s meeting, he strolled across the marbled floors, through the waiting area with its plush chairs and glass-topped end tables, toward the bank of elevators. The young receptionist sitting behind a glossy, walnut desk looked up at him with a smile that changed so fast to stunned surprise, she had him blinking in rapid succession along with her.
“Good morning, Mr. Vancuren. How was your week?” she inquired with polite interest.
“Good morning.” He kept walking, like he usually did after tossing out the standard response, then stopped and peered over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, what was your name?” Her dumbfounded expression tugged a small grin from him. Damn, had he been that inconsiderate all these years?
“Melissa, sir. Thank you for asking.”
Nodding, he rode the elevator to the eighth floor and, by the time he’d greeted secretaries and advisors with a casual wave as he passed their offices or called out a cheery good-morning on his way to his office, he didn’t know whether to be pissed or amused. But he knew who to blame for the constant, roller coaster of conflicting emotions and the changes in his life he was contemplating. Sandie had a lot to answer for if he ever saw her again.
Chapter 10
Zach huffed as he veered around the bend, slowing his morning run to start the cool down. The trees along the winding jogging paths in the park across the street from his apartment offered a little relief from the summer sun, but the sultry heat meant another hot day ahead. Thankfully, he’d be spending a good portion of it in his cool, air-conditioned office. He’d already logged in over twenty hours at the office in the last three days, triple the amount of time he’d spent in one week in over ten years. It surprised him how much he’d enjoyed immersing himself in the numbers game again, calculating the risks and weighing them against the potential benefits. Investing was much like gambling, a basic crapshoot where you rolled the dice, closed your eyes and prayed your instincts and gut didn’t let you and your clients down. It had been exhilarating to discover he hadn’t lost his touch, that he was a fucking good gambler with spot on instincts that bore fruit more often than not.
Yet, for all his newfound sense of accomplishment, he still couldn’t prevent the memories of those few days with Sandie from haunting his nights and plaguing his days. Worry he never knew he could feel for anyone except his mother and friends gripped him with a tight fist and wouldn’t let go, and he’d be damned if he knew what he could do about it. Giving in to the urge to flip through her sketch pad last night had only increased the anxiety clawing its way through his head with increasing, painful insistence. Those talented drawings hinted at weeks of shelter living and the several sketches she’d drawn of the same two men led him to think they were at the crux of her problems.
Slowing to a walk, he tried going through numbers in his head based on the morning futures when the peal of his phone distracted him. The symphony of birds chirping, the gurgle of the hidden stream to his left and the aromatic scent of blossoms from a multitude of gardens all fell to the wayside with the voice on the other end.
“Mr. Vancuren, this is Agnes at Shady Brook Manor. I’m sorry to inform you…”
He blanked out the rest of her words, not needing to hear them to know what she was saying. A cold chill spread throughout his body, drying the perspiration as goosebumps rose along his arms. “Thank you. I’ll make arrangements.” Ending the call, he gazed with unseeing eyes toward the exit of the park, thinking his building seemed a long way off when he knew it was just across the street. Closing his eyes, he let the despair wash over him as he fought to get his breath back. His mother’s peaceful death in her sleep shouldn’t come as a shock, and he knew he should be grateful she was finally at rest. Her life the past few years hadn’t been worth living, at least not for her. But he’d needed her to stick around as long as she could to give him as much time to be there for her as possible.
Now what would he do? His purpose in life for the past twenty years had been to make amends for the stress he’d heaped upon his mother in his teens and to atone for his neglectful father by ensuring she wanted for nothing before and after her diagnosis. He resumed walking with leaden steps, thinking of everything that needed to be done. Numb with grief, he set aside dealing with tomorrow. Getting through today would be difficult enough.
Zach knew his mother well, and as he strode up the wide steps to the church she had frequented for as long as he could remember, he hoped she’d be pleased with the arrangements he’d made. She’d never been one for a lot of fanfare, and he thought she’d appreciate a small service followed by crematio
n with only a handful of her closest friends receiving personal calls from him. Soft organ music greeted him as he entered through the wide, double doors and a few people offered condolences. Nodding his head, he veered left, trying to escape their good intentions by entering the quiet sanctum of the chapel, but stopped abruptly when he saw his friends standing aside, waiting for him in silent support.
He hadn’t called them, figuring he could handle this on his own without dragging them down. But as the five men greeted him with simple handshakes or a tight squeeze on his shoulder, then followed to sit with him in a silent show of support, he knew he hadn’t lost the most important person in his life, only one of them.
Thirty minutes later, they stepped outside and watched the hearse return Carol Allen’s body to the funeral home for the final stage in her burial. Zach couldn’t decide whether to keep her urn or bury it, but figured he didn’t need to make that decision anytime soon. Not yet ready to be alone, he used the refrigerator full of casseroles back at his place that people from the office had surprised him with as an excuse to invite them over.
“I can feed you guys for several meals, if you want to stop by my place.”
“Hell, you don’t have to ask me twice.” Miles didn’t hesitate to take him up on the offer.
“Which means we better get there before him if we want any,” Trevor said. “Meet you there, bro.” Clapping Zach on the back, he and Troy set out toward the parking lot.
“I’m not that bad,” Miles groused, following them.
“I know you have obligations…”
Jackson cut off Zach’s excuse for him with a short chop of his hand. “Taken care of for the day. Come on, we’ll follow you.”
“Did you really think we wouldn’t be here?” Sean asked as he waited and walked with him to their cars.
“Honestly, I didn’t have time to wonder, but thanks. It means more than you know.”
“We’ve all been there, Zach. Maybe the circumstances were different, but we can all commiserate with your loss.”
He shouldn’t have forgotten that, Zach thought as he got into his car and waved he was ready before pulling out. Grief had consumed him for the past two days, but just having his friends unwavering support had already lightened the load enough for him to think of someone else. While bemoaning over not being able to help his mother, he realized there was one person he might be of considerable assistance to. Thoughts and underlying concern for his little stowaway still popped up and plagued him, even with everything he’d had to cope with recently. He couldn’t save his mother, but maybe he could assuage some of his misplaced guilt by coming to the aid of someone else. Focusing on finding Sandie, if for no other reason than to make sure she was all right, would help him get through this initial, consuming phase of loss, and with any luck, would put an end to the ridiculous notion he missed having her around.
How could he have forgotten how well they knew each other? Zach asked himself an hour later as he looked at everyone seated around his dining table. The minute they’d stepped through his door, they’d acted the same as always, making themselves at home, helping themselves to food as they joked and kidded around. It was exactly what he didn’t know he needed and as Miles reached for a third helping of the popular lasagna casserole, he couldn’t think of a better time to dangle an enticing tidbit like rescuing a damsel in distress in front of them. He was banking on tapping into the protective streak each one possessed toward those in trouble, especially women and children.
Turning to Sean on his right, he said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Remember the woman I mentioned I spent a few days with last week?” That got their attention as all eyes swiveled his way and all talk ceased.
“The one who snuck away without a word? Is that still nagging at your conscience?”
“Wait! There’s a woman you can’t forget? Give, and I do mean now,” Trevor demanded with a glint of humor in his dark eyes.
“Yes, and I’m about as happy over that annoying fact as I was when I found her sleeping like an innocent lamb in my bed after I was too far from port to want to turn right around and take her back.” Zach mentioned Sandie’s honesty about not being able to explain why she’d been hiding on the yacht, the glimpses of fear and desperation he caught on her face and how little he knew about her after spending over four days alone together.
“You must’ve gotten over your irritation with her presence, because bro, reading between the lines, I can tell you two tried out some of the equipment you had installed,” Jackson said. “Was the sex that good or are you worried about her welfare?”
Zach sighed, not in annoyance at Jackson’s correct assumption, but because he should’ve seen the inevitability of it. “I am worried, and want to find her, just to make sure she’s okay. That sketchpad you found, Miles, belongs to her and her drawings paint an unhappy, worrisome picture. Given all that, any of you interested in helping me track her down?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Trevor agreed right before Troy added, “I can run through missing person photos if you give me her description, see if anything pops.”
“With only a first name and description, it’ll be difficult.”
His gaze whipping to Miles, Zach clenched his jaw, angry at the reminder. “If you don’t want to help, say so.”
Miles’s black eyes turned to chips of ice. “Never said that. Since when does a difficult situation deter us?”
“Shit.” Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he gave his friend the apology he deserved. “Sorry, Miles. It’s been a rough few days, but no excuse.”
“I’m the shrink, and I say it’s an acceptable excuse.” Sean’s smile eased the tension. “And count me in, too.”
“Was there anything in her drawings we could use?” Jackson asked as a way of tossing his hat in.
Zach retrieved it from his room while drinks were refilled and suggestions bandied about on ideas going forward. Resuming his seat, he passed it to Jackson on his left as he fought to quell the sense he was betraying Sandie by sharing her private drawings with people who were strangers to her. If those sketches led to her whereabouts, she’d just have to suck it up if, correction, when he found her.
“These two must mean something to her, there are several of them.” Jackson held up the first sketch of the two men, their faces only.
“She’s got talent,” Troy remarked, taking the pad and glancing at the other sketches of the men. “Rough looking characters. Mind if I take one of these with me, Zach? I could also search for them. It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack without a way to narrow the search or at least limit it to a state, but it’s a place to start.”
“No, take what you need. I could drive up and spend time with computer mug shots.”
Troy passed it to Miles. “That’d help. I’ll arrange it on…”
“I know this place,” Miles interrupted, holding up a drawing of an older building with the sign, Hope’s Crossing, above the door. “It’s a shelter a few blocks from the gym.”
“I think I’ve heard of it. It’s a women’s shelter, if it’s the one I’m thinking of.” Sean inspected the drawing with narrowed eyes. “It’s a good place to start.”
Urgency pulled at Zach, along with a thread of relief they had somewhere he could start right away. “I’m going now…” Before he could finish, the others rose to their feet, tossed their paper plates and offered to go along.
“If the six of us barge into a women’s shelter like a group of Neanderthals, we’ll scare the crap out of anyone there. Can I suggest just Troy and Miles going with Zach and they can let us know if they find out anything useful,” Sean said in a calm voice of reason.
“You’re welcome to hang here until we return. It shouldn’t take us long,” Zach offered as he snatched his keys off a small table by the door and Miles and Troy followed him out.
The two-story shelter sat nestled between a small family owned grocery and a used clothing store in a converted, 1940s building
. Troy flashed his badge to the receptionist when they entered and she glanced at them out of wary eyes.
“I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge, if I may?” He was so polite, Zach wanted to roll his eyes or demand entry, but knew that would only delay them.
“Hope’s in the kitchen. Let me page her.” Picking up the phone, the young girl spoke in hushed tones before hanging up, saying, “She’ll be right out.”
Zach turned and gazed at the pictures lining the wall, photos looking like they dated back decades. He’d never seen such a collage of downtrodden faces and his heart twisted as he imagined Sandie lying on one of those narrow cots in a room filled with strangers and lacking any privacy. What had happened that had driven her to hide on his yacht, and maybe here? He knew she was educated and had mentioned family with longing, a sign she missed them. Why the hell hadn’t he forced more answers from her while he had the chance? If nothing else, he could’ve seduced information out of her, tormented her responsive, delectable body, withholding her orgasm until she came through. Instead, he’d done what he always did, refused to get involved. God, he hoped he wasn’t too late.
“I’m Hope Wallace, how can I help you, gentlemen?”
A blossoming, black eye and swollen, sprained wrist snagged Zach’s attention first about the striking blonde, followed by her wary speculation as she assessed them out of bright blue eyes. Troy stiffened next to him, but Miles’ growled curse snared his attention off the proprietor of the shelter. “Miles.” His low-voiced, one-word warning didn’t halt his friend from taking a protective step forward, but Troy maneuvered in front of him and prevented Miles from advancing further. When facing an abused woman or child, Miles tended to act first, question later, and his action often came in the form of physical violence toward anyone he thought responsible.