Will heard the soft beep that indicated Elizabeth had disconnected the call. He stared at the screen for a minute, then allowed himself to slide down the wall to the floor. He held the phone to his chest and then hung his head. His legs were rubbery, so he didn’t try to rise. He just sat there on the floor of his office and let the relief take hold.
“Will?” Richard’s voice came through the door, followed quickly by the rest of him. He’d gone out to get them takeout as well as milk and juice so they’d had something in the house other than whiskey to drink. Will glanced up wearily. Their eyes met.
“Did you hear something?” Richard asked immediately, leaning forward. He set the bags on the bookshelf nearest him and crouched down. “What happened?”
Will shuddered. “She called, Richard.”
“Who?” Richard asked, hope in his eyes, but fear, too.
“Elizabeth. She’s all right. Elizabeth called.”
Elizabeth ended the call and silently held her arms up over her head as though she’d just scored a game-winning goal. She’d been on the phone with Will for nearly an hour, promising him to check in again that evening with a video call. He still loves me.
Humming to herself, she texted Jane, not knowing when her sister would be off work, and left a message for Uncle Ed. I’m back, safe, she told them, but it’ll be a few more days before I’m home. She promised to call after getting some sleep, but suddenly, she wasn’t tired.
She made the business calls she knew she’d have to make. It was hard, but she made them, and she felt better when she had.
The final call was to Arch’s sister, a woman named Enrica. She’d been contacted by her brother and was pleased someone was coming to pick up the bike.
Thirty minutes later, she arrived at a downtown apartment building. She called to tell Enrica she was outside, and a tall, broad woman exited a few minutes later carrying a helmet.
“Thank you,” she said emphatically as she approached. “I am so sick of worrying about this bike.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Let me take it off your hands, then.” They walked to the second floor of the parking garage where the Harley was parked. Enrica removed the cover, and Elizabeth shoved her bag into the storage compartment and began working the strap on Arch’s helmet—it was too big, but she’d wear it the few miles to the closest store.
Enrica shook her head. “I’ll never ride that monster again,” she said seriously. “In fact, I’ll never ride a motorcycle, period. Please, take mine.” She held out the helmut.
Elizabeth was pleased to have it. She held out her hand with some cash, but Enrica shook her head resolutely. “Look,” Elizabeth said, “your brother wasn’t able to give you your Christmas gift because he let me use it for my sisters. I can’t accept this, too.” Why doesn’t anyone ever want to take my money?
Enrica smiled and nodded once. “He told me.” She opened Elizabeth’s palm as if to take the cash and dropped a fob into it instead. Then she simply crossed her arms over her chest. “You did me a favor. He has his own playlist in my account but insists on adding his songs to mine. I hate heavy metal.” She made a face. “Have fun!” she called as she walked away.
It didn’t take long to travel to a local bike shop and purchase some old used leathers—new ones would attract too much attention. As she prepared to leave the shop, she glanced at herself in the mirror and grinned at her reflection. From silk to leather. It’s been a confusing month.
Will had completed nearly a week’s worth of work in the ten hours he spent in the office, alternately getting things set up for yet another absence and staring at his cell phone. Wanda had been a huge help, creating schedules, proofing the new job descriptions, setting up teleconferences for the meetings he couldn’t hold by phone or put off, and in general helping him prepare the staff for the new reporting protocols. She’d also informed him that if he were one of his own employees, he’d still have four weeks of vacation left on the books.
Hiring the new patent attorney wasn’t a pressing issue and would keep until he got back. He and Richard had announced the new organization yesterday and explained that when the new year began, so would the new system. There had been process questions, and a good deal of excitement about being able to use more than one skill set, but no one on the staff had seemed much phased by the notion of two CEOs. He figured that Richard had been in the role, unofficially, since early in the morning the day after he had arrived home. The staff might have figured it out before they had.
He rolled his head first to one side and then the other, trying to work out the stress when the phone rang. He grabbed it. “Elizabeth?”
“It’s me, Will.” The video opened up and he could see her in her dark blue pajamas. He drank her image in—she’d lost a bit of weight, and she looked tired. She was magnificent. Will smiled. “Where are you?”
“I’m in a Best Western, in a place called Buttonwillow, and I’m bushed. I’m turning in as soon as you tell me you’re heading home. It’s late there.”
“How did you know I’m still at work?” he asked, abashed.
“I don’t know, Will,” she teased. “Guessed. But I think the gray wall behind you was a clue.”
He relaxed into his chair. “What’d you do today?”
“Rode to Buttonwillow,” she replied, but said nothing more.
He felt his frustration growing but bit it back. “And tomorrow?”
She hesitated, and then said, “San Francisco. Oh, I need the address of that lawyer you hired the last time I was in California.”
Will glanced up at Richard, waved him to a chair, and gave it to her. “The primary lawyer is Laura Annesley. Why do you need to see her?”
“I’ve got some paperwork she’ll want to have handy when the FBI or anyone else comes calling,” Elizabeth replied. “Proving I was working for the good guys while I was gone.”
He grunted approvingly and pulled up a map on his computer. “So that’s . . . five hours?”
“Mmm,” she agreed, pulling her hair back from her face.
Talk about pulling teeth. “What do you have to do in San Francisco besides seeing Annesley?”
A snicker, and then, “I’ve got to see a man about a horse.”
“Elizabeth,” he said wearily. Movie quotes? Now? “Don’t Betty Grable me.”
She laughed heartily. “See, Will Darcy? That’s why I love you. Nobody else would know that line.”
She’s deflecting. What is she up to? “If you love me so much, let me meet you in San Francisco. We can walk the Presidio, get sourdough bread and clam chowder, stay in Union Square . . .”
“Well,” she began, “no . . . I don’t want to be a tourist there. But I do want to see you.” She was quiet for a minute. “Let me call you when I get there and we’ll see.”
Will checked his watch. Too late to call Wanda to book a flight for me. The last time he’d called his assistant this late with no warning, she’d booked him through to Anchorage on the last row in coach on a sold-out flight. His legs cramped just thinking about it, but his fingers itched to begin a search for airline tickets. He stopped himself. I should wait for her to call.
“Will?” she asked, yawning. “I’m going to bed so I can get up early tomorrow.”
“All right, love,” he said warmly. “Don’t forget to call me as soon as you get there.”
“I will. Night,” she said sleepily.
He tried not to think about going to bed with her. “Good night, Elizabeth.” He watched her until the video blurred and cut off.
Less than thirty seconds after Will got off the phone with Elizabeth, Richard appeared, hair rumpled, pulling on his coat, watching him warily from the hall.
“You seem to be fond of skulking in doorways, Richard,” Will said, shaking his head. “Let’s have it.”
“Paps,” Richard said bluntly, and Will held out his hand for the phone.
“Variety?” he asked Richard, who shrugged. Variety was a paper for people in entertainment. W
hy . . . The screen was too small, so Will passed it back, logging back into his laptop and pulling up the story.
There were two photographs of Elizabeth, one in her black silk evening dress and green silk shawl and the other of her standing near a motorcycle, staring straight at the camera, her penetrating green eyes in sharp relief against black riding leathers. A glossy black helmet dangled from her fingers by its strap.
Will studied the photo, moving his eyes up to the headline, which read, “From Red Carpet Sweetheart to American Rock Star.”
Elizabeth Bennet’s appearance on West Olympia Street in the City of Angels today was no surprise to those in the know. Bennet, a national hero long before she became New York City’s darling, has not been seen in public for more than three weeks, when she was photographed engaged in a steamy kiss with William Darcy, CEO of FORGE and owner of Darcy Acquisitions. Darcy has most recently been photographed in the company of socialite Caroline Bingley. Bennet has now resurfaced across the country near the offices of Taylor, Phillips, and Liu, a firm known to negotiate film rights. Is she planning to tell her story on the big screen? Look out, Will Darcy, a woman scorned will spill.
Will’s lips curled in disgust as he scanned the third photo. It was a few years old, from the first time Charles had brought his ridiculous sister to an event. What had it been? A ball, he thought, searching his memory. He’d been laughing at some remark a young Georgiana had made, before disentangling himself from Caroline’s clutches and taking his fifteen—no, maybe sixteen-year-old sister out on the dance floor. He remembered the photo because the paper had sent it to him after the party, wanting his comments before using it in the society pages. He’d asked them not to run it and had instead offered them some other photo, he couldn’t recall. Why was it being published so much later? He supposed the paper had just sold it.
As for the warning about a woman scorned, he rolled his eyes, thinking about the phone calls they’d shared today. Not worried. Then, with a thin grin, he thought, Three weeks without seeing us together must have those bottom-feeders eating their young. They’re dredging up old photos to run and claiming they’re new. I think that may be actionable. “She’s on her way to San Francisco,” he told Richard, who typed something into his phone.
Will briefly considered how he might have reacted to such a story had it been anyone other than Elizabeth and knew he would not be so sanguine. Even in those terrible days before Christmas, however, he had never doubted Elizabeth’s loyalty. She would never sell him out. It wasn’t only that she didn’t particularly care to be the subject of press attention herself, though she didn’t. Elizabeth simply wasn’t capable of that kind of betrayal. It wasn’t in her nature.
Richard was staring at his phone with a frown. “You know, there’s not much I can do to keep this photo out of the locker room.”
Will was startled by the comment. He’d only noticed what he’d seen the night before—that she appeared thinner, and that the laughter always lurking somewhere in her expression was missing. Her eyes were still brilliant, penetrating, but they weren’t . . . malachite, Georgiana had said the other day, trying to pin down the color, and now they looked as hard as the rock she’d compared them to. But then, these were things he noticed because he knew her so well. When Will looked again, he caught Richard’s meaning.
In the recruiting posters, she’d been fit and attractive, wholesome. In this photo, with her hair free, red highlights glowing in the sun, athletic, lithe body encased in tight black leather, knee-length boots hugging long legs, staring boldly at the camera with those extremely fine eyes, she was hot, incredibly sexy, every bit as model-gorgeous as Jane, though nobody would describe Elizabeth as angelic. There was an edge to her, something dangerous, exciting. Only it was easy to see that this wasn’t his Elizabeth. Not by a long shot. And that was the Elizabeth he wanted back.
I pushed her away, he thought. Locked her out. It was his fault she’d felt compelled to return to the one thing she’d never wanted to do again. If he’d not been so insistent that she stay clear when he obviously needed her help, there would have been no need to make a deal, no need to go away. Stupid arrogance, thinking he could protect her when he was the one who had needed her protection. Even Richard had told him he was being an ass, but he hadn’t listened. She hadn’t been able to stand to the side any more than he could’ve in her position. Stupid. And now she was out there alone being stalked by the press. On a motorcycle. Oh shit, and the picture of him and Caroline. She wouldn’t think . . . would she? Wait. Taylor, Phillips and Liu. Liu. The book. She’s going to confront Tom Bennet. He scowled. Not alone, she’s not.
Richard was still standing just in front of his desk, texting someone. He nodded at the phone and met Will’s gaze. “You’re so easy to read, Will,” he said, shaking his head. “Oscar says that Pop has a meeting with Homeland in San Francisco later in the week. He can just move it up. They’ll be waiting at JFK by seven.” The phone buzzed again, and Richard grinned and read aloud: “Dad has a meeting in the city tonight and we both need to pick some things up from home anyway.” He shook his head. “So apparently it’s not a misappropriation of taxpayer funds to make the stop in New York first.”
Will’s mind was racing in several different directions. First, Elizabeth had said she would call him, to wait. Next, that this was the easiest and quickest way to get to her. Finally, that no matter what she said, he couldn’t let her face her father without his support, whatever form she might allow that to take. She’d said she wanted to see him. He’d take the chance she meant it.
Chapter Six
The Tule fog was thick, significantly decreasing visibility as Elizabeth rode north. Thankfully, traffic was light. She intended to be in San Francisco before lunch, then get a meal and a room somewhere. The euphoria of her conversations with Will was finally fading, leaving her cheerful but fatigued.
She’d been riding for a few hours when there was a small rise in the road. As she reached the top, an overpowering odor of ammonia and rotten eggs smashed into her as though she’d ridden through a wall. She took in a reluctant breath and sputtered, afterwards breathing only through her mouth. The signs as she moved past read Harris Ranch, and she could see the gigantic herd of cattle pressing up against the freeway in a large, open field. Well, I’m awake now.
The fog dissipated a short way past the central valley, and she made good time after that, arriving at the California Street law firm in San Francisco by late morning. She entered the marble foyer, her boots squeaking on the stone floor, and located an electronic board listing the company’s different specialties. Laura Annesley’s name was listed under National Security. Elizabeth strode to the desk to make her request. She rapped her helmet lightly against her leg as she waited. She was told that Ms. Annesley would be right down.
“Elizabeth?” Laura Annesley called a few minutes later as she stepped from the elevator behind the security desk. Elizabeth smiled in greeting, and the woman blinked. “Elizabeth Bennet?” The woman’s expression morphed into that of a professional attorney so smoothly that Elizabeth nearly didn’t catch the transformation.
“Mr. Darcy hasn’t been in touch,” Annesley said. “We’re still on retainer, but I hope I haven’t forgotten an appointment?”
Elizabeth answered in the negative.
As they walked back to the elevator together, Annesley stared straight ahead, lips twitching. “Nice togs,” she deadpanned, and punched a button. “Marine-issue?” The elevator began its smooth ascent, and Elizabeth grinned. Annesley was her kind of lawyer. Good choice, Will.
“Have your laugh,” Elizabeth replied, glancing at the bug debris on the helmet’s visor, “but I’ll have you know that I earned at least twelve trucker appreciation awards in this getup.”
Annesley laughed. “What’re those, horn blasts?”
Elizabeth played it straight. “And some creative hand gestures,” she replied with a tip of her head. Annesley snorted softly. The elevator doors opened, and th
ey stepped out into a busy office. Elizabeth was led past a bustling village of occupied cubicles to Annesley’s private office. They stepped inside, and the white noise of phones, keyboards, and modulated conversation cut off as the attorney closed the door behind them. Elizabeth felt thick carpet beneath her boots, saw several plush chairs, a large walnut working desk, and a nice view out over the financial district a few blocks away. Hmm, she thought. Big shot. She wasn’t surprised.
“You’re about to start earning your money,” Elizabeth said quietly. “So I brought you a few things.” She opened the messenger bag she had slung across her chest. “This,” she said, handing over the envelope Abby had given her, “should help you with my case.”
Annesley took it and frowned. “Do you have a case?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Probably. I don’t think the FBI is going to be happy I left during the FORGE attack.”
“Ah,” the attorney said. “I read about that.” She held up the envelope. “It’s still sealed.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I know what’s in it.”
The older woman gave her a curious look and opened the letter. Carefully, she withdrew a thick, embossed piece of paper. She held it out in front of her, sniffing once as she read it and glancing askance at Elizabeth. “Help your case, huh?” She shook her head. “I presume you want to keep the original.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Sure.”
Annesley placed the letter on her desk and smiled smugly. “If you’re right about the FBI, you just saved Mr. Darcy a lot of money and me at least two months of procedural paperwork.” She punched a button on her intercom and asked her assistant to schedule a meeting with the director of the agency. “You’d have never seen the inside of a courtroom,” she told Elizabeth confidently, “but this is so much better. The best kind of get-out-of-jail-free card.”
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