Behind Your Back (29 page)

“This has nothing to do with you or with our financial relationship. I would have fallen for Saige regardless of who her parents were. She’s an amazing and wonderful girl and if you can’t see why I would love her, then you don’t see her clearly.” I definitely didn’t mean to say all that, but I feel like he’s attacking me and I need to defend myself.

He looks at me for several long seconds and then nods his head.

“She is special, and I’m glad you see that. You obviously have real feelings for her.”

“I do.” It’s so easy to tell him how much I care about her because none of it is a lie.

“Then I hope you understand that I will do anything in my power to protect her and keep her safe.”

“I do understand and I agree.” For now. For two more weeks.

“Good. I’m glad we got that straight and that we understand one another.” He gives me a smile and another handshake.

“Now that’s settled, we should probably get back to the girls. I think my wife has finally calmed down.” I doubt that, but we go back to the dinner anyway. I’m thrilled my plan worked so well and that we’re well on our way to getting this guy and ripping all the opulence out from under his feet. It’s a shame that he’s such a horrible person because he created a wonderful daughter.

I catch her watching me out of the corner of my eye and when we’re on the way back to her place I ask her about it.

“I just like looking at you. Is that a crime?”

“No. Not at all. You can look at me as much as you want.”

“What I’d really like to do is look at you without your clothes on. Do you think that can be arranged?”

I laugh.

“I definitely think that can be arranged.”

She gets a message on her phone as I help her out of the car and it makes her frown.

“What is it?” I ask as we walk up the steps to her building. She types something and then looks up at me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Nothing. Just my mom being crazy again. I wish I had taken a picture of her face when she saw my tattoo. Her face was pretty priceless.” She laughs and we head up to her place.

“Can you do something for me?” I ask.

“Sure, what?” I go to my bag and pull out the little piercing she used to have that she’d given me for safekeeping.

“Will you put this in and let me fuck you while you’re wearing it?” That makes her throw back her head.

“You are an interesting man, Quinn Brand.” It takes her a little bit of fiddling, but she gets the horseshoe-shaped bit of metal through her septum and screws the balls on either end so it won’t come out.

“Fuck me, that’s hot,” I say as she models it for me. It gives her look a whole different dimension and with the visible tattoo on her back she looks like a redheaded goddess.

How in the hell did I get so lucky to be with her?

“If I knew you were going to like it so much, I would have put it in sooner,” she says, pulling the straps of the dress over her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. She quickly shimmies out of her bra and panties and she’s gloriously naked. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on in my life. I want her so much it’s painful.

“I do like it. Very much,” I say as she comes forward and starts to strip me. I was able to pop the flash drive in my car so I don’t have to worry about her discovering it. Cash will pick it up while we’re doing this. It’s a good system we’ve got going on.

Once I’m naked she kisses me so hard that I can feel the metal of the piercing and it’s like throwing a match to a drum of gasoline.

I fuck her harder than I ever have before. It’s savage and desperate and I’m afraid it’s going to kill both of us. But she’s right there with me, biting, pulling, begging. We ravage each other and when it’s over we’re both covered in bites and scratches and I know if I had longer hair, I’d be missing a few chunks. Somehow we’ve ended up on the floor and she starts to laugh.

“What was that?” I shake my head, and even that simple movement is too much effort after all the energy I just let out.

“I have no idea,” I say. Every time we’re together feels significant. I chalk it up to the fact that our sexual encounters are limited, but I don’t know if that’s entirely it.

“Me neither,” she says, and I turn my head to meet her eyes. This time she’s the one who looks worried.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. She swallows and closes her eyes, as if she can’t bear to look at me. She looks up at the ceiling and forces a smile.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

I want to ask her more about it, but I’m also exhausted. We fall asleep on her floor, wrapped in her sheets and each other’s arms.

Twenty-Seven

“W
e’ve hit the mother lode,” Cash says with glee the next night. The guys have all congregated to go through the information on the flash drive and sort through the first few hours of surveillance. It’s helpful that there are so many of us because it makes searching through hours of boring video from several different angles go a lot faster.

“Here’s everything. Financial records, contact info. It’s like he wanted us to find it,” Cash says with a laugh. “These guys with money think they’re so untouchable that they don’t even bother to protect themselves.”

“Is it enough for blackmail?” I ask and Cash nods eagerly. He seems to have completely recovered from his alcohol-induced breakdown and bounced back to his cheerful self. I’m glad because I don’t really know how to handle a morose Cash.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. We don’t even need the video. This is more than enough.” Perfect.

“I got something,” Row says, taking his headphones off and snapping his fingers to get our attention. He, Hardy, Track and Baz are all set up with laptops and headphones, going through the surveillance.

The rest of us stop what we’re doing and pay attention as Row pulls out the headphones and turns the volume full up.

It’s a phone call between Beaumont and someone else and if we didn’t already have the financial records, that would be enough for us to have him right where we want him.

We all listen as Beaumont lays out his plan to shift a bunch of his money to offshore accounts to avoid taxes, his plans to skirt EPA regulations and pay off politicians. All in one phone call.

“You know who he’s talking to?” I ask Row.

“It’s one of his business partners, Clint Hardwicke.” The two of them were thick as thieves, which they actually were. Dirty, dirty, dirty.

“Go ahead and copy the most important parts and we’ll start amassing a file.” We never confronted our marks in person. Too risky. But once we had enough in a file, we sent it to them and laid out our demands: Let us keep the money we’ve already taken and we won’t release the file. Works like a charm.

In another hour or so, we have a good file started. It’s in our best interest to amass as much data as possible, so we’re going to wait a few more days and get some more video and hopefully more documents and records from his computer. We need to show that his dirty deeds have been ongoing and widespread.

Two weeks. Less than that, actually. I leave the meeting and head back to Saige’s. I told her about Leo on Sunday and she insisted that I bring him with me now, so I pick him up on my way. As soon as I walk into her place, she’s all over him and he’s all over her. It’s hard to tell who loves the other more. I’ve never heard him purr so much.

“I think he’s giving me a run for my money,” I say as we sit on the couch and watch a stupid movie as Leo sleeps in Saige’s lap.

“Well, he’s a little bit easier to cuddle than you are, but I’d always end up as the big spoon, so.” I know she’s joking, so I just shake my head at her.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Whatever,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me. I want to bite it. She’s taken to wearing her nose ring when we’re alone and I have to say I love it. I’ve taken a few pictures of her on my phone when she wasn’t looking and I’m going to transfer them when I get a new one in California. We’re not supposed to leave anything or take anything with us, but I’m going to take a few bits of Saige with me. I can’t just erase her from my life. I just can’t.

Leo ends up sleeping between us that night.

“He’s so sweet, I don’t want to move him,” Saige whispers, stroking his ears. He stretches out and I can tell he’s relishing all the attention.

“Cockblocker,” I say, glaring at him. He just yawns and moves closer to Saige.

She chuckles and keeps petting him.

I wake in the middle of the night and I feel like I can’t breathe. I sit up and look around. Saige is beside me, Leo between sitting up us and looking at me with big eyes as if I’ve disturbed his sleep.

Saige is sound asleep, so I get out of bed as quietly as I can and go to the bathroom to get a glass of water. My skin feels uncomfortable and I can’t seem to get a deep breath. I have no idea why. I wasn’t having a particularly bad dream. I have those sometimes, especially when I think about my mother before I go to bed.

I come back to bed and see Leo has taken my spot. I shove him over and grab hold of Saige. I need something to hold onto because I feel like I’m falling apart.

“A
re you okay?” Saige asks me the next morning. I know I look like shit because I didn’t get any sleep last night even after I grabbed hold of Saige and held onto her like she was a life preserver.

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well. I feel off,” I say, which is an understatement. I can’t really describe it, other than that.

Saige reaches her hand up and puts it on my forehead like my mother used to do.

“You feel a little warm. Maybe you’re coming down with something.” I shake my head because it’s not my body that’s sick. It’s my mind.

“Maybe you should stay home. I only have a two classes today and I can come back and take care of you.” As appealing as the idea is, I need to go to work.

“Will you wear a sexy nursing outfit anyway?” I ask. She smacks my shoulder and then goes to fill Leo’s water dish. He’s wrapping himself around her legs and meowing like he’s being horribly neglected.

“We’ll see. But take it easy. I’ve been worried about you.” She won’t need to worry for much longer. I put a smile on my face and put both hands on her ass to haul her to me for a kiss.

“I’m fine. Just busy with work. I’ll see you tonight.” I grab my briefcase and she waves goodbye to me as Leo begs for attention. For a second I allow myself to imagine that I could do this every day. That this would be my routine, giving Saige a kiss and going off to work.

In another life.

S
aige’s instincts are right on the money and I start feeling achy and awful around noon. By the end of the day I can barely hold my head up and I’ve run to the bathroom to hurl twice. Other than migraines, I’m almost never under the weather and it makes me surly.

I tell Grace that I might not be in tomorrow and she gives me a look of pity, but I see the jumbo bottle of hand sanitizer she’s got on her desk. She’ll probably coat the office with it after I leave.

I can barely stand by the time I make it to Saige’s and she takes immediate pity on me. I’m put to bed, given medicine and tea and cool cloths are pressed to my forehead and then she’s lying next to me and humming. In my sickness haze, it takes me a while to realize it’s “Fire and Rain” by James Taylor. My mother’s favorite song.

I don’t want to think about her right now.

“Stop,” I say, but it comes out as a whisper. My throat is raw from vomiting.

“I thought you loved that song. You told me it was your favorite,” she says. I crack my eyes open and look up at her. She’s just so beautiful.

“It reminds me of my mother,” I say.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” she says, removing the cloth and stroking my forehead with cool fingers.

“It’s okay,” I say. My defenses are down and I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m leaving anyway, so what does it matter?

Her hands pause for a moment as she absorbs that information and then they start moving again. “You said she was murdered. Who killed her?”

“Someone that my father owed money to.” I hear a sharp intake of breath and watch her face as she thinks about that bit of information.

“And what happened to him?” I inhale for a long time before I tell her.

“He was killed in prison. I’m glad he’s dead. He deserved it.” Her fingers freeze again. I don’t care if I sound callous. You can’t judge until you know the situation.

“I’m so sorry for you. So very sorry.” I know she means it, but I don’t want to talk anymore.

“Stop it,” I say and she takes her hand away.

“I’m sorry,” she says, getting up to leave me alone.

“Don’t go. Just don’t talk about her,” I get out. She seems to understand and comes back to sit next to me.

“Just rest. Don’t worry about anything else.”

I finally drift off to sleep and she’s right there beside me.

T
he next time my eyes open I still feel bad, but not as bad. Must have been a 24 hour thing. Saige is curled up beside me, sleeping soundly and Leo is at her feet. I get up carefully so I don’t wake her and go to use the bathroom and brush my teeth because my mouth tastes disgusting.

I check the burner phone and find a message from Cash that they’ve got more for the file and I reply back that I’m pleased and then stumble back to bed. Saige’s eyes flutter open when I pull the covers back to get in. I’m really cold for some reason.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. It’s about one in the morning and she has to be exhausted from caring for me. I never planned for her to see me that way, but she’s an excellent nurse.

“Better, but still shitty,” I say, lowering myself into bed. My stomach rolls and I get ready to bolt again, but it settles and I lay back down.

“I’ll go get you some ginger ale,” she says, but I reach out my hand to stop her.

“It’s okay. It can wait.” But she shakes her head and does it anyway and I’m not in a position to stop her.

A few minutes later she comes back with a glass of fizzing ginger ale and a small plate of crackers.

“See if you can keep this down,” she says, handing me a cracker. Obediently, I take it from her and nibble at one corner. The stuff is dry and salty, but I hope it won’t come back up.

Saige watches me eat and sip and I can tell she wants to say something.

“You were talking in your sleep. It woke me up,” she says. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“I don’t talk in my sleep,” I say, finishing a cracker and starting a second.

“Well, then you only do when you’re sick. You said a lot of stuff that didn’t make sense.” I look at her and hope my eyes and expression are steady. Every now and then when I was a child I’d talk in my sleep. My mother thought it was funny and used to write down some of the things I’d say, but I haven’t done it in a long, long time. Or at least no one’s been aware of it.