Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (25 page)

just…odd.

Back at the table, I Google my father and start listing every name

ever associated with him I can find. I’m surprised at how few links I find on

him, considering he was responsible for carving out more than a few pieces

of history. My heart squeezes when I think of being with him when one of

his great discoveries had been made. I shove aside the bittersweet memory

and refocus on research. What would make someone want to kill him, and

everyone he loved? What would make them hunt me down?

Maybe it’s not about his archeological finds. He sat on government

committees and became involved in international relations, and not long

before he died there was talk of his retirement from field work and a

political appointment in Washington. I shake my head. I don’t know where

this is taking me. I was young, and uninvolved in that part of his life. I know

nothing about it. If I’m still a target, and I am, then someone thinks I know

something I shouldn’t. It’s only logical. They can’t hurt my father by killing

me. He’s already dead.

I decide to make a list of everyone I ever knew or knew my family to

know, here and overseas, when my brother and I would go on digs with my

father. Next, I cross-reference it with the Google searches. I stare at the list.

It’s sixty names long and I don’t even know what I’m looking for. My first

instinct is to mark everyone off that has nothing to do with my father, but I

change my mind. I’ve hyper-focused on this being about him and his work.

It’s not about the money. It was never about the money.
My mother’s

voice flashes through my mind. My mind was trying to tell me something,

but what? Who was she talking to?

Who was there that day?

***

Remarkably, I do not have a flashback while doing my research, and I

wonder if that has something to do with feeling like I’m taking control and

finding answers. At 5:00 I force myself to pack up and head to my meeting

with Meg. Finding Earl’s Restaurant and Bar is easier than I expect, and I

arrive at 5:15. A waitress points me to the left and I enter a bar area with

huge booths that sit on pedestals above rows of tables, and directly

opposite the huge wooden bar. I choose the booth at the very back where I

can see Meg when she enters, and I have plenty of room to put my

computer to use while I wait.

I’ve barely settled into my seat when a waitress appears to take my

order of a house red wine. I open my computer and look directly in front of

me and go still. Jared is sitting at the next booth over, facing me, his

computer open and a beer by his side.

I swallow the dryness in my throat and he motions to my table,

asking to join me. I nod, unsure why this makes me guilty. He’s a neighbor,

not my new lover, but I know Liam wouldn’t approve—and honestly, if I

found him having drinks with some hot woman, I wouldn’t either.

He slides into the half-moon-shaped booth, and to my relief, remains

directly across from me. “Past due we get some quality time together,” he

says, as the waitress sets my wine down beside me.

“I wasn’t aware we were trying to get quality time together.”

“Well, now you are,” he says with a smile, and there is this casual

sexy thing about him that screams completely relaxed and comfortable in

his own skin. And I’m sure many women would be comfortable in it too. But

not me. I prefer the edgy, dark thing Liam wears like a second skin.

“You really are a smartass, aren’t you?” I ask, but it’s really not a

question. He is.

“Most of the time.”

“Why?”

“Comes natural, like being arrogant does for your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? Is that what Liam is to me? And somehow it seems too

small a word for him.

“I’d defend him, but I don’t think it would do me any good.”

“Good call.” Amusement fills his dark eyes and he is absolutely Mr.

Bad Boy Sexy in this moment. “What are you working on?”

“Just playing around while I wait for a friend to join me.” There.

Avoidance. I’m still good at it with everyone but Liam. “What about you?”

“I’m doing high-tech work on contract.”

“High-tech work? You don’t seem like a computer geek.”

“What do I seem like?”

“The long hair and ripped jeans and…well, something more…rowdy.”

He laughs. “Rowdy. I’m not sure how to take that, but basically I’m a

professional hacker. I’m hired to try to hack a site, and if I can, they then

pay me to make sure no one else can. I do a lot of defense contractor

work.”

Bad-boy hacker. That fits him. “Thus the Boeing shirt?”

“Thus the Boeing shirt. Normally I’m holed up in a hotel for a month

or so on a job, but a friend was laid off and had to relocate for a job, which

stuck him with the apartment. At six grand a month in rent, he was eager to

have someone supplement the cost.”

“Six grand? How big is your place? I only pay two.”

He laughs. “You must have a fan somewhere. There isn’t an

apartment in the building under six grand. We’re in prime real estate and in

the center of a high-profile restaurant and shopping area.”

“Oh, well, I think my boss owns the building.”

“Who’s your boss?”

I hesitate, not sure why. “Dermit Williams.”

“Never heard of him. I thought a big holding company owned the

building.”

“Hello!” Meg appears by the table, looking every bit the blonde

bombshell I can never be in a snug black dress and I’m rattled to realize I

hadn’t even noticed her approach. She hugs me and then glances at Jared.

“Good grief, woman, you hang out with beautiful people. I’m sitting with

him.” She scoots Jared over, and next to me. I’m ready to crawl under the

table.

“Please,” Jared says approvingly. “Come on in.” He glances down at

me. “Hope you don’t mind getting up close and personal.”

Somehow I am captured in his warm brown stare, and I feel the

connection in the pit of my stomach, more in the form of guilt than

attraction. Not that I am beyond seeing how hot this man is. He is, and if I

were any other woman, I suspect I’d be glad to be here, but I’m not. I’m a

woman who is crazy about another man, and the fact that Jared makes me

think of Liam speaks of just how intensely drawn to Liam I am. My cell

phone beeps with a text and Meg and Jared chat with the waitress while I

pull out my phone.

Where are you?

Earl’s. I met Meg for a drink.

I wait for a reply but don’t get one. Odd. I shut my computer and

stick it back in my briefcase, preparing for a fast departure if I get any more

uncomfortable.

“I will be soooo happy when Luke gets back,” Meg announces, and I

grab the opening she gives me.

“Did you ask him for that number I needed from him?”

The waitress delivers her wine and she thanks her before saying,

“Yes. And sorry. He won’t give it out.” She turns to Jared. “I haven’t been

introduced.”

“Jared,” he says. “And you are?”

“Meg.” She offers her hand and he turns to her and accepts it. She

bats her lashes in a flirtatious way I’ve spent too much time staying off the

radar to ever even attempt. I can’t see Jared’s expression the way he’s

positioned, but I can’t imagine there is a man on the planet who wouldn’t

pant over Meg’s ample beauty. They both settle into their seats again and

Meg asks,

“And what do you do for a living, Jared? Where are you from? Are

you single?”

I just about choke on a swallow of wine. Jared laughs. “Tech guy.

Texas. And yes”—he glances at me—“I’m single.”

I officially have cotton in my throat. I grab my wine and take a big

swig. Jared laughs, clearly amused at my reaction, proof my decision to stay

away from men while living off the radar had been a good idea. They send

my composure into the dumpster. Or, at least, men like Jared and Liam,

who are exceptionally…male.

“And how do you know Amy?” Meg queries Jared.

“I’m renting the apartment across from her.”

I tilt my head and frown, thinking of my extreme rent difference to

what Jared has stated.

“He’s staying in a friend’s apartment. That’s probably why you don’t

know him.”

“Why would she know me?” Jared asks.

“She works in the management office,” I supply.

“New, though.” She seems almost uneasy, but then being new is

never fun and she adds,

“I’m just learning the ropes and learning who is where and what is

what.” She sips her wine.

“This isn’t what I ordered. I’m going to the bar. Be right back.”

Great.
Alone with Jared again. And why hasn’t Liam texted me back?

“Where are you from, Amy?” Jared asks.

On a conflicting note, I’ve been craving a chance to talk to him about

my hometown and avoided it at the same time. Apparently, I’m going to

talk to him about Texas. “New York. You’re from Texas, you said?”

“Yes. Ever been there?”

“No. Too many pickup trucks and football fans.” Lie. That is a part of

Texas that makes it Texas, and I miss it.

“And beer.” He lifts his bottle and takes a drink. “Us Texans like our

beer.”

Not this one. “You can keep it. I don’t like it.”

“Ever tried this one?” He shows me the bottle with some sort of

special import label.

“Never.”

“Try it.” He offers me his bottle. “It’s a different taste altogether.”

He wants me to drink from his bottle? “No. No thank you.”

Meg returns. “Ohhh, I’d love to try it.”

He hands her the bottle and she takes a sip. “German?”

“Yes. German.”

“Try it, Amy,” Meg encourages. “German beers are completely

different from the American version.”

Jared hands me the bottle, a challenge in his eyes. Somehow, I feel as

if me drinking from his bottle is some sort of ploy to tear down a wall he

thinks will let him get closer to me, but I feel like a deer in headlights, with

both him and Meg watching me.

I grab the bottle and take a drink, the bitter taste filling my mouth,

and I grimace a moment before awareness prickles down my spine. I glance

up to find Liam striding toward us, and he is not only the picture of male

perfection in his gray suit, his dark hair neatly groomed, his goatee finely

trimmed, his jaw is set solid, his eyes hard. He’s pissed. He saw me drinking

from Jared’s bottle.

He stops beside me and takes my hand. “Let’s go, Amy.”

I’m appalled. Did he really just order me to leave? “Liam—”

He lowers his head and presses his mouth to my ear. “Let’s go now.”

My emotions are a rollercoaster ride of anger, embarrassment, and

more anger. I slip my briefcase and purse on over my shoulder and scoot

out of my seat, and I don’t look directly at Jared or Meg. “I forgot we had a

dinner meeting tonight.”

“Amy—” Jared starts.

“Don’t,” Liam says sharply.

I pull away from him and start walking for the door. He’s behind me. I

don’t have to look to know. I feel the predator in him. Well, he’s going to

find out that this deer in headlights just grew fangs.

Chapter Eighteen

I exit the restaurant and I don’t stop walking. I’m going to the

apartment I swore I wouldn’t go back to anytime soon, not his hotel. I’ve

spent too much time feeling like I don’t own me, and now he wants to own

me. No. No, this is not going to happen. I’ve been “insane” over this man.

Clearly insane.

I’m crossing the street when Liam shackles my wrist, claiming control

and all but dragging me with him, the big bully. “Let go, Liam.”

“Not a chance. Not until we’re in the room.”

“I’m not going to the room with you.”

He doesn’t even look at me. “Like hell you’re not.”

“I’ll make a scene.”

He stops at the curb on the other side of the road, and turns to me,

his eyes hard, his voice crackling with barely contained anger. “No. You

won’t.” It’s a command he expects me to follow, solidified by the way he

starts walking again, tugging me along with him.

“Liam—”

“Don’t talk, Amy. You’ll only piss me off more.”

He’s
pissed off? I’m the one who has been embarrassed and treated

like crap. I’m the one who is angry. He won’t intimidate me. He won’t

control me like this. He wants to go at it with me, I’m in. Bring it on.

We reach the hotel in record speed. The doorman says hello to us

and Liam doesn’t even look at him, and I’m pretty sure we’re a walking

billboard for a couple about to go to war. Oh, yes. We are getting good at

making scenes and getting noticed. I’m failing miserably at staying off the

radar, and I have Liam to thank for that. No, I amend again. I have me to

thank for that. I let this happen. I let
him
happen, and I have to do

something about it.

We enter the elevator and he slides his card through the panel and

then pulls me hard against him, forcing my hands to his chest, with

nowhere else to go. My legs settle against his, and damn it, I am affected,

wet and aching for him, and this only serves to spike my anger a notch

higher. He’s controlling me and I don’t like it. I can feel him willing me to

look at him and I refuse.

As if punishing me for my insubordination, his hand slides down my