Like a Fox (15 page)

I retract my hand, wiping it on the fabric of my clothes.

Vault sits, unbuttoning the front of his suit and revealing the vest underneath that molds to his frame. He licks his lips, glistening them, and I blink at their sexual appeal. “Care to explain her presence?”

“I have confirmed that Lewis Brennan is Lieberman.”

Vault rubs his jaw, “Good. Very good. That still doesn’t explain her.”

“She knows you want her father. She’s here to stop that from happening.” Vic shifts to me, allowing this to be the time I take over.

I wasn’t expecting it to turn so quickly to me. I’m not ready. I even have Vault’s undivided attention. I had thought I would have to butt in, force Vic to explain me and allow me to say my piece.

The silence is embarrassingly long as I gather my thoughts.

Vault brings back his hypnotizing, dimpled smile as he encourages me to speak, “Okay, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

My heart beats faster, both from his seductive tone and from nerves. I clear my throat.

Vic reaches over to squeeze my knee, leaving his hand to rest there. It oddly gives me the confidence I need. “You will destroy my family if you go through with this.” Vic squeezes once again, harder this time. I know it’s a reminder to keep level-headed, but I can’t. I don’t know how to be any other way in this situation. Calming my emotions doesn’t come naturally to me. “He’s not the man he once was. He’s a husband and father that is adored, who runs a café that the town loves for not only the food but the welcoming family who runs it. I don’t understand why you can’t let the past stay buried. What’s so important that you have to ruin our lives for it?”

Vault runs a hand down his face, letting out a deep sigh. When he’s done he looks to Vic, not an ounce of sympathy to be found. “Why would you bring her here? I don’t have time for this. I have a business to run.”

Vic doesn’t answer, staring back at Vault with the same amount of aggravation in his eyes.

My stomach knots, knowing I blew it, that Vic had been right. I’m not equipped for these kinds of men. I change my game, interrupting Vic as he begins to speak, “I gave him no choice. My father is gone. Only I know where he went. You want to get to my father, you have to go through me.”

“Sweetheart,” Vault is condescending as though I’m playing with fire, unaware that it burns, “Don’t threaten me.”

I lean back into the couch, relaxing into it with crossed arms, trying to imitate Vikki’s self-assured posture and commanding presence, “I’m not,
cupcake
. I’m beginning the first stage of negotiations.”

Vault stands, re-buttoning the front of his suit with one hand as he assesses me for a half a second. He turns his back to me as he makes his way to a liquor cart next to the main doors that houses crystal bottles and glasses. He pours himself a tumbler of amber liquid, twirling it and taking a sip before turning back around. He stays by the cart as he lifts the glass out in my direction. “So make me an offer.”

Fuck me. What do I say next? I channel Vic as best as I can, wanting to appear distant and uncaring of the situation, “Tell me what information you need. I will get my father to give me the answers.”

Vault takes his time sipping from his tumbler before responding, “And if he won’t?”

“He will.”

“How do I ensure you’re trustworthy?”

I shrug like I could care less, “You don’t.”

Vault smiles, barely revealing his dimples as he walks back to his seat on the couch, “This little game we’re playing is cute, but I don’t have time for games.” He moves his arm so the fabric of his suit jacket pulls back to reveal a watch. Vault looks to it, “You have five minutes to convince me not to call my men to bring him to me. He couldn’t have gone far.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. If I hadn’t interfered, my father could be long gone by now. Shit. I glance over to Vic, who is intently watching me. With my eyes I plead with him to help me, to tell me what to do next. All he does is lean back into the couch and rest an arm over the top, nodding his head in the direction of Vault for me to continue.

I want to punch them both right now, right where it’ll hurt them the most and have them screaming out like little girls.

Once again I channel Vikki, not wanting to show an ounce of uncertainty, only confidence. “Let me call my father. Let him believe my life is in danger without those answers.”

Vault watches the liquid in his tumbler as he swirls it around, “And let’s say he gives you the answers? What then, sweetheart?”

“Well, cupcake,” I smile with false sincerity. “That’s your problem.”

“No
sweetheart
, it’s
yours
.” Vault dumps the rest of his drink down his throat. “You see, I need your father to confirm a person for me. He was one of seven to witness this man as a threat, and also one of the two that are still alive.”

The wheels in my head turn with everything that I have learned as I try to find a solution, “Is this man public knowledge? Does he perhaps play an important role in society?”

Vault smirks like he’s curious where I’m going with this, “He does.”

“Would there be articles on this man, perhaps from charity events or political campaigns?”

“Many.”

I try not to get snarky with my response, keeping up the façade of belonging with this room of indifferent, icy men, “Well, you see Mr. Cole, there was a phenomenon back in the nineties – it was rather ground breaking. You may have heard of it. The World Wide Web? Some may refer to it as the Internet?”

Vault is unamused by me, his face back to showing agitation, “I’m familiar.”

I continue the business transaction, “Could I not have my father look up articles I specifically mention that contain a clear picture of this man and have him confirm?”

“It’s possible.” Vault briefly looks to Vic, who remains mute, “There’s another catch.”

“Of course there is,” I grumble under my breath, slumping into my chair, the façade dying out.

“Your father and this man are the only two left that can access a security box.”

“What kind of security box?” I ask.

Vault sets down his crystal and clasps his hands together, “I run a unique bank here Miss Brennan, one that has earned me my nickname for a reason. I keep people’s most precious possessions safe, be it money, jewels, artifacts, documents, anything one feels they need to keep locked away. At the time this particular item was deposited, my father was still running the company. He was looser in his guidelines than I am. He let the contents be kept between the box and whoever had access to it. I, on the other hand, know of everything that comes and goes from my building. Unfortunately, due to contracts set forth by my father, I do not have written consent to go into this particular box, and above all, I’m a man who has to be trusted. If word gets out that I have not upheld this trust, I’m a dead man. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Or at least the best that I can.

Vic takes this moment to jump in, “Do they need to be there at the same time to access it?”

“Yes,” Vault confirms.

Vic curses under his breath.

I wonder what plan he had in his head and why he’s been quiet this whole time.

I speak up, my own idea forming, “What if both men were dead? Does this bank have anything in place for that?” I was thinking if both men were presumed dead, the bank would be allowed access to what ever they had locked away.

Vault instantly dismisses the idea, “Killing him would be impossible.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” I challenge, wanting a precise answer.

“Freya,” Vic cautions, knowing I haven’t a clue what I’m up against. “This is not a man you can just walk up to and kill.”

I ponder for a minute or two, calibrating my thoughts, “What about someone like me, someone he would never suspect?”

Vic shakes his head during my entire question, immediately speaking when I’m done, “No, you don’t have it in you.”

“For my family I do.” I would do anything for them.

“It’s not going to happen, Freya,” Vic sternly rejects the idea. “I won’t let you live with blood on your hands.”

“That isn’t your choice to make.” I turn to Vault, disregarding Vic, “Is it possible?”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” Vault predicts, with a sincerity to his tone I wasn’t expecting.

This is getting nowhere. I take a deep breath before continuing, the words coming out as agitated as I feel, “But for shits and giggles, can it be pulled off?”

Vault shrugs, “Anything is possible.”

“Then give me the chance.”

“Why should I do that?”

I bargain with the only thing I have, with no intention of letting it happen, “If I fail, you still have my father.”

Vault calls out my earlier bluff, “I thought you said he went back into hiding.”

“Well, lucky for you,” I pat Vic’s lap, “you have a man who can find him right here.”

Vault looks past me as he considers it. After a few minutes of silence he focuses back on me, “I’m giving you twenty-four hours.”

“Seventy-two,” Vic counters.

“Forty-eight,” Vault volleys back, looking Vic straight in the eyes. “And that’s only because of the respect I have for you.”

Vic nods with no emotion anywhere to be found, only his usual stoic expression and monotone speech, “Very well.”

They stare for a long time after the exchange, Vault the first to speak, “You failed to mention her.”

Vic dismisses it like only he can, “It’s irrelevant.”

“Doesn’t appear that way,” Vault motions with his head in my direction at Vic’s hand that is back on my thigh. My hand is over his. I didn’t even realize I had done that. I don’t move it. Vic gives me strength, even when I’m beyond pissed off at him. “Are you the one that told her?”

“No.”

Technically Vic’s right, my father did, but Vic’s the one who told him.

That’s how he avoids lying, by only allowing you to know a small fraction of the entire story. I guess it’s the person’s own fault for not asking the right one.

Vault studies him some more, calculating his response, obviously also knowing how Vic operates. “Is she the reason you took my job offer?”

“Yes.”

“I honestly didn’t see that coming.” Vault starts talking like they’re old friends as he leans back into his seat, his smile at ease, “I couldn’t figure out why after all these years you finally agreed to work exclusively for me. Now I don’t have to wonder.” He stands, motioning us to follow him to his desk, where he sits down on the oversized leather office chair. He goes onto the computer, and after a few clicks on the keyboard swivels the monitor in our direction. Taking up the screen are pictures of a man I don’t recognize in the New York Times. “I assume this is the internet you were referring to?” Vault asks the joke with such seriousness that I don’t at first realize he’s teasing me until he grins, a dimple popping out.

“You
are
familiar,” I tease back. “I’m surprised, most people have never heard of it.”

His smile grows and my stomach dips from his beauty.

Vault gestures all around his desk, “You can use the phone here to do whatever you need to do.” He then goes over to the liquor cart and refills his glass.

I reach for the telephone, punching in numbers and whispering to Vic with bitterness, “Thanks for the help back there.”

Vic reaches across me, clicking the phone off to explain. “If I had spoken it would have discouraged you. You had it. I knew it, or else I would have stepped in.” The admiration in his eyes and soft expression boost my pride. “The way you handled yourself, Freya,” Vic grabs my free hand, placing it over the front of his pants and the outline of his hardened dick that has carved out the material. I can’t help but squeeze it, and at the same time I clench the inner walls of my vagina. He leans in, his lips brushing the outskirts of my ear as he sensually murmurs, “I’ve never wanted to fuck you so hard and rough; and believe me, I’ve had moments where I’ve wanted you more desperately than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.”

I don’t know how to respond to that other than taking him on top of Vault’s desk, which wouldn’t be all that appropriate considering where we are and the fact that we aren’t alone in the room (although the idea of an audience has always excited me). Unfortunately this isn’t the time or place to try out any fantasies I may have. Plus, I’m still upset with Vic…hmm…angry sex could be fun though...
Jesus, pull it together
.

Instead I make a call to the café. Sammy answers and lets me know that both my sister and dad had gone home for the day, leaving Sandrine and Forrest working the café and bookstore. I know things must be bad, as they are our worst employees.

I thank Sammy, hang up, and call my parents house.

Mom answers, “Freya, where are you? We’ve been worried.”

I get right to the point; the rest could come later, “I need Dad.”

“Sure.” I can hear her walking as she talks, “We just told your sister.”

“Oh,” is my best response. Knowing my sister, she’s a nervous ball of energy. I hope Flynn is with her. He’s the only one who can keep her sane when she has panic attacks.