Captured Lies (21 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

“What happened to you, Geoffrey? You’re late for our Board
meeting. You’re never late. You look like you’ve been dragged around by your
coat tails. Couldn’t you have changed before you showed up? Who is she this
time?”

Geoffrey pulled himself to his
full six-foot two inch height, loving how he towered almost a foot over his
sister. He ignored the twinges of pain that radiated from several bruises and
aches. He’d never suspected that the girl would know how to take care of
herself. Not a mistake he’d make again, once he found her. That shouldn’t be hard.
He knew who she was hanging out with.

“For the record, Dorothy.” He
liked that not calling her by her formal name made her stiffen. “I helped out
with an accident on my way here. That’s why I’m late. Why I’m a bit dirty. So
excuse me for stopping to help my fellow man.”

Her eyes opened wide with remorse
for her quick words. Her look of dismay was enough to put him on Mount Olympus.

“I’m sorry, Geoffrey. There’s
just a few things happening here that need straightening out.

There’s some questions about that
California winery that you’ve been negotiating with. And  our Treasurer, says
some things with the European winery you negotiated the purchase of last year
has run into some major problems.” She reached out and put her hand on his
forearm. He barely restrained himself from jerking away. He needed to play it
cool and move up his plans for a permanent vacation. There were many problems
but they were all virtual. Hard to have problems with places that didn’t exist.

“Fine, I’ll be right there.” He
pulled away.

“I’ll hold the meeting for
fifteen minutes for you. Come when you’re ready.”

He knew that meant clean up and
change into the spare suit he always kept in his office. Giving her that one
small concession, he walked away a smirk curving his lips.

Yes, many things are
happening. Most of which you know nothing about.

He entered his plush, dark
mahogany office that was bigger than most houses. Walking past the leather sofa
he opened the cabinet at the end of the room and pulled out a bottle of
Ladybank Single Malt Whiskey, poured two fingers and downed it. He set down his
glass on the table before he turned and stepped into his fully equipped
bathroom. He stripped down, glaring at the dust that marred his suit and the
rip that scarred the right pant leg.

It’s all her fault.

All his clothes went into the
garbage before he climbed in the shower and allowed himself a full twenty
minutes, to revel in the heat. His plans had changed. He should have known not
to call John. He’d bungled the kidnapping thirty years before. What had made
him think the man would clear it up now? That was his second and last mistake.

Anger infused his body
immediately. His hands clenched. His face distorted, full of hate and violence.
Rarely did he lash out unless it was to do severe damage to someone. Wasting
his energy on punching something had not been his style. If he was going to
feel any pain it was going to be accompanied by elation at what he had done. It
was such a high to feel another’s soft tissue compress until he hit something
hard. The cracking of bone had a distinguishable sound - like the snapping of a
twig in a still forest – it echoed for a long time, with the screaming of the
victim. He allowed himself to remember the last man he’d beaten - some homeless
bum he’d found on skid row. The feel of the man’s body fracturing, breaking
under the power that he’d inflicted, sent shivers of excitement coursing
through Geoffrey’s body. He groaned in ecstasy, as that distinct crunch-break
sound, that he never knew how to describe played out in his mind, sounding like
music to his ears. Lust grabbed hold of him, making him hard. He reached for
himself, then stopped.

No I’ll save this for Lula.

Thinking about one of the latest
whores he frequented and the wild and raunchy things she always did to him,
with him, almost made him come. For a brief moment, he immersed himself in that
physical pain and discomfort, the thoughts of what she could and would do to
him and for him. It would help keep him centered and focused, allowing him to
control his anger throughout the meeting that he was late for. The one where
there’d be questions as to what was going on. Rumors were flying about new
business deals, new partners, old business deals maybe not being on the up and
up and why no one had been apprised of them - the Board, especially his dear
sister, Dorothea. He was ready though. He had the carefully crafted, detailed
set of books that showed that the winery was doing exceptionally well, all set
up in a fancy presentation for those who thought they were in charge. The real
books were nicely tucked away in his suitcase and the real money already in an
offshore account. He’d show them the possibilities of taking on some partners,
give them the grounds of why that would be a great idea and not share that he’d
already taken them on, taken their money.

The thought of how much they’d
have to clean up when he was gone made him instantly hard again, to the brink
of ejaculating. He couldn’t help but smile, everything was working to his
advantage.

Except the damn girl.

He instantly went soft. His anger
boiled over and he punched the shower wall. He ignored the hole he’d put
through it. It wasn’t his to worry about anymore. Taking several deep breaths,
he allowed the water to cascade down him, washing the blood from his scraped
knuckles. This wasn’t the time to lose it. He had a show to put on and no one
could guess what he was up to, not yet, not until he was gone. Not until they
found his badly broken and burnt but unrecognizable body was identified only by
his expensive garnet ring and his gold lighter with the eagle in flight. The
things people knew never left his person.

They’d have a beautiful funeral
for him. They’d go all out. He’d made sure in his will that every detail was
spelled out, how the ceremony was to honor him and his wonderful contributions.
And of course the beautiful letter he’d left his sister would ensure her guilt,
meaning she’d pay handsomely for his eternal rest.

While they mourned he’d be
somewhere hot, sipping exotic whiskey, with as many naked women as he could
find. He laughed a dark laugh that, if anyone heard, they’d have questioned his
sanity. The guilty pleasure he felt was so divine he couldn’t ignore it and
realized he didn’t have to.

Eyes closed.

Deep breathe in. Slowly breathe
out. Deep breathe in. Slowly breathe out.

Because it was such a ritual, his
mind immediately went quiet, loving the darkness and the stillness. He waited,
readying himself liked a caged tiger who knew the doors were going to open. Concentrating
on the darkness, the stillness, he held himself there.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Now!

Images flooded his mind, some
real, some not. Bodies twisting together and apart, writhing in ecstasy, moaning,
rubbing against each other, finding pleasure. Their skin humming with that
sexual tension, that sexual awareness of what was to come, like an electric
shock arcing through the air but not quite making the connection. Throwing his
arms wide, he turned his chest so the water could beat down on it, to drum
against his front.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh,” he
moaned. In his mind, the crystal clear droplets turned to a crimson red that
poured down over him, wrapping itself around him like a cloak… accepting him...
inviting him… begging him for more. The writhing bodies, still meshed together,
now screaming in terror, crying out his name, begging to be released. The
crescendo was building, was reaching higher. The feeling coursed through his
body with the force of a locomotive, firing all his nerve cells. Humming like
the perfect note plucked with precision from a harp, he lifted the knife
skyward and plunged with all his might. Screams echoed. Fresh blood washed over
him. Filled him.

“Yeesssssssssssssssssssss,”
screaming, for he knew no one could hear through his sound proof room, he allowed
himself the finale. Power surged through his body, filling it, stretching it.

He grabbed himself, pumped a few
times and saw not the white milky substance that slid from his body but a white
power so pure he vibrated with the release.

Finished, he leaned limply
against the shower wall, allowing the water to cleanse him, to rejuvenate him for
he felt reborn.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Guy looked at the caller display, took a deep breath and
answered his phone.

“Where are you?”

“Uh, what’s up Grams?” Guy looked
wide-eyed at Graham.

“I just had… I was at the Board
meeting…”

Guy stood up straight, every
nerve in his body alert. “What’s going on?”

“I, uh… I may need to hire you
for some more investigative work.”

“Oh?” He stared off into space.
He’d never heard a hesitant word out of Dorothea’s mouth. Ever. “Are you okay?”

“Well of course I’m okay. I don’t
need some young pup questioning me. I’m simply telling you that I have…”

He let her ramble on. One. Two.
Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Guy took a deep breath. “Grams,
why did you call?”

There was silence.

“You had your board meeting
right?”

“Yes.”

“So you called me because of
something Geoff did or didn’t do?”

“What makes you think it has to
do with him? I know there have been issues between you two.”

“Gram.”

“All right.” She huffed out a
breath of air. “Something’s not right with the South Shore Winery we acquired.
I’ve been staying out of it but…”

“But something isn’t sitting
right, which means Geoff is up to something.”

“I think he’s being framed.”

“Geoff?”

“He was late for the meeting. He
looked like he’d been attacked. He said he’d stopped to help at an accident. He
was acting weird. Not himself. He was dreadfully late. I had to apologize to
everyone. I–.”

“I think you mean smearing his
name? Setting him up?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

He snorted with laughter. His
uncle was a jerk and it wouldn’t surprise him if he was a crooked jerk, as
well. He doubted very much that anyone would have the nerve to smear his
uncle’s name, at least not if they wanted to live.

“Don’t laugh at him. He had
enough of that in his lifetime. I think someone is blackballing him.”

Guy managed to hold back the
chuckle that was trying so hard to burst free. He never understood why his
grandmother protected the man. He was pure evil. There wasn’t an honest bone in
his body. There was no way he’d allow anyone to smear his name. If there was
something going on, he was behind it.

“I’ll look into it, Grams. I’ve
got to go.” He ended the call.

“Geoff screwing the old lady over
again?” Graham swiveled in his chair.

“I think there is much, much more
going on. I need you to expand your search into his background. Look into that
South Shore Winery we started acquiring several months back. Anything that has
Geoff’s name on it, I would like you to look into it.”

“We? I thought there was no way
in hell you were going into the family business as long as Geoffrey, my dear
boy, was involved?”

He gave him a baleful look.

“All right, oh masterful one. And
what will you be doing?”

His face felt on fire, from the red
heat that was crawling up. He looked at Graham who was giving him a very
quizzical look. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean…”

Graham waved him off.

“I think Geoff is behind
something bad. Something big. I don’t know what. But I know. I know you didn’t
find much yet, which just reinforces that he’s into something bad. Really bad.
Who else hides their existence? A few more days and we’ll figure out what he’s
up to.”

Graham grinned as he spun back to
face his computer. “I love your optimism. Wasn’t it you who said this
situation, finding Bailey, telling her who she really is, would be over before
it started?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Bailey drained the tub and refilled it for the third time.
If Guy hadn’t knocked on the door every half hour to check on her she wouldn’t
have been aware of time passing. Lifting her foot out of the suds, she used it
to turn the hot water knob off. The pruny look of her foot also let her know
she’d been in there long enough. She’d been selfish long enough. Guilt for
making Guy wait to clean up was starting to weigh on her.

It was with that thought that she
pushed herself up and out. Draining the tub, she refilled it, feeling guilty
that there was only lukewarm water for Guy. A quick flash of his naked, lean
body lowering into the bubbles not only sent her mind into overdrive at the
possibilities that could bring but a thrill of excitement zipped through her
body leaving goose bumps in their wake.

She dried off and then wrapped a
towel around herself, realizing she hadn’t brought the new clothes they’d
stopped and bought on the way to Graham’s. Slipping out the door, she walked
towards the bedroom/Graham’s computer room she’d been given to sleep in. She
stepped into the room, only to stop as two heads swiveled to stare at her. Her
eyes opened wide as both sets started at her shoulders and ended at her long
legs that were barely covered.

“Eek.” Spinning, she ran back the
way she’d come. She almost made it to the bathroom when a warm hand landed on
her shoulder.

She spun around. “I just want my
clothes.”

Guy lifted the four bags to her.
“I know.” His gaze held hers. Embers blazed deep in their depths. An insane
thought of jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, flashed
through with the clarity of a movie. Eyes wide, she grabbed the packages and
stepped back with the intention of closing the door. Only he didn’t let go. He
moved closer. Their bodies brushed against each other.

She inhaled sharply.

This is wrong. This is wrong.

His lips came down on hers. The
bags hung heavy in her hands as he let go and placed his fingers on her naked
shoulders, his index finger tracing the line of her collar bone. A hard shudder
wracked her body. Nothing had ever affected her so quickly or so fiercely. The
parcels slid from her fingertips as she wrapped her arms around him. Her hands
immediately slid under his t-shirt. Allowing herself free rein to massage,
knead and feel the muscles that rippled under her fingers. Heat coursed through
her blood, thrumming with intense excitement.

His fingers slipped down over the
front of her towel, gently rubbing the already erect nipples. Her first thought
was to rip off her covering but she sensed he was enjoying the torture as much
as she was. His mouth continued to ravish hers in a way that had never happened
to her before.

This is right. Oh God, is this
right?

Guy’s cell phone rang.

They continued to explore each
other’s bodies, pushing so far but not taking that next step that they both
knew would mean they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, turn back.

The phone rang again.

The sound broke them apart. They
stared at each other in confusion.

As if to make sure they heard it,
the cell chirped again.

“Shit!” Guy reached in his pocket
and pulled it out. Seeing who it was, he swore again. Giving Bailey a guilty
look he backed out, closing the barrier between them as he answered his phone.

Sinking weakly down onto the
toilet, she bowed her head, not for prayer but because she had no strength to
hold it up anymore.

Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bailey.
She kept reminding herself that she couldn’t get mixed up with this guy. She
didn’t even know who she was. He had no idea who she was. He thought he might
but he didn’t. Of that she was sure. And she really didn’t know him. Maybe he
was one of those guys who was thrilled to save a damsel in distress. Only, she
was no damn damsel.

Never liking that role nor ever
wanting to be seen like that was the catalyst she needed to get moving. She
stood up and pulled out what she was going to wear. He’d bought her two pair of
jeans, two t-shirts, two blouses, a pair of dress pants and underwear. He’d
been insistent about the dress clothes which she couldn’t understand. Grabbing
a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she quickly pulled them on. Once dressed, she
walked down the hallway to the bedroom, slash computer room.

Graham was still clacking away at
the keyboard. He looked up when she entered. She couldn’t help but smile
because she wasn’t sure which of them was more embarrassed.

“I’m sorry…”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You first.”

“No, you.”

They smiled at each other and
realized they could let it go. Carefully weaving her way through the stack of
papers, boxes and stuff she wasn’t sure she wanted to identify, she climbed
onto the bed behind him.

“What are you doing?” Bailey
asked, as she looked over his shoulder.

“Uuhh.” He quickly shrunk
whatever he’d had on the screen.

She sat down, pressed her back
against the wall and stretched her legs out. “Am I bugging you?”

Graham spun around in his chair. He
looked at her as though stumped. “You’re not. But you are. How does that grab
you, my dear,” he said in a very bad, stodgy English accent.

She replied in kind, “jolly good,
my man. Jolly good.”

He laughed with her. “You can
laugh. I like that.” He spun back to the computer and started working away
again. Bailey frowned but didn’t interrupt him nor ask any more questions. She
tried really hard to keep her eyes off the screen. She didn’t want him to think
she was snooping. Five minutes later she could barely sit still, she crossed
her legs, uncrossed them, put her feet up on the mattress, then put them down
on the floor, leaned forward, sat back. She didn’t want to be rude and go snoop
through his house but she’d had enough. Graham was working and Guy hadn’t
returned from his call. She was about to get off the bed when Graham chose that
moment to spin around. She jumped backwards, whacking her head against the
wall. She gently rubbed the tender spot.

Graham looked at her with a silly
grin. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. But I think I’ve found something.
Something brilliant.”

“Oh what is it?”

He got a guilty deer in the
headlights look. His eyes flew to the door.

“Uh, where’s Guy?”

“On the phone. Why?”

“Just, he’s taking a while.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Damn. I
left him a tub full of water that has to be cold now. Sorry. I’ll go drain it.”
Racing to the bathroom, she pulled the plug and headed back. Since the bathroom
was only two doors away from the computer room, she could hear their voices
clearly. Tiptoeing a little closer, she stood outside the door.

“You won’t believe what I found.”