No Turning Back (19 page)

However, I wasn't stupid enough to not be fervently grateful for his thoughtfulness and generosity.

What had me in knots, what confused me utterly and left me unable to process what to do next, was the why of it. Two days ago, I would have assumed Blane expected me to sleep with him in return for doing something like this. Now...well, judging by last night, that obviously was not the case. His actions seemed contradictory and baffled me. He'd said he would take care of me, but he wouldn't have sex with me. It didn't make any sense. A man like Blane didn't do things just for the sake of doing them, there had to be something in it for him. I just couldn't fathom what it was.

Well, regardless of his motives, I had a call to make. Gathering myself, I got off the floor and found my phone, also new and one of those high-end brand name cordless kinds. I dialed the firm, asking for Clarice's extension.

"Blane Kirk's office," she answered.

"Hi, Clarice," I said, "it's Kathleen."

"Kathleen!" she exclaimed. "Oh my God, Kathleen, what happened? It's all over the building!"

"What's all over the building?"

"That you're having an affair with Blane and James was jealous so he had Diane fire you," she hissed into the phone, trying to be quiet, it seemed. I winced in embarrassment. Sheesh. Word travels fast.

"I am not having an affair with Blane," I said firmly, though the little voice in the back of my head reminded me that I would be if Blane hadn't stopped last night.

"You're not?" she sounded disappointed and I wanted to groan in exasperation.

"No, I'm not," I repeated, and she sighed.

"Well, damn. What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered, reminded that now I needed to look for another job. Obviously, I wouldn't be able to put down the firm as a reference and that would make it more difficult. I absently rubbed the back of my neck, stress and tension getting to me.

"I'm sorry, Kathleen," Clarice said. "The way Blane reacted when he heard...I just thought the rumors were true." My pulse sped up at that.

"What did...how did he react?" I asked, hating the fact that I was dying to know.

"Oh, he got into it big time with James, I thought they were going to come to blows and James looked ready to pee his pants, but then he left. I think he had a court appointment or something. He seemed in a big hurry."

Something flashed in my mind as I spoke with Clarice and my breath caught. TecSol. The company where Mark had worked. He'd been afraid of them. Now I remembered where I'd heard that company name before. Well, read it, actually. The night I'd helped Clarice finish her work. The brief I had typed up and delivered with Blane to the Santini brothers had concerned TecSol. But for the life of me I could not remember the details in the brief.

I froze at the knock on my door.

Chapter Eight

"Clarice," I said into the phone, "I've got to go. I'll call you later." I hung up over her protests. My palms were sweaty. I thought for sure it was Blane at my door and my feelings were divided on whether or not I wanted to see him. I didn't think I was ready to face him after last night.

The knock came again and I hurried to the door, pausing to take a deep breath and brace myself and my emotions. He'd made it perfectly clear last night that, while he had a weird protective thing going on with me, that's as far as he would take it regardless of the physical attraction between us. I wondered if I could keep my thoughts from painting themselves on my face. Embarrassment warred with gratitude and I didn't know what I was going to say to Blane.

I opened the door and was surprised to see James standing there. I felt a stab of disappointment that it wasn't Blane, but then I recalled what Clarice had told me and was immediately wary. And angry. He was responsible for me losing my job. James may not need to worry about where his next meal was coming from, but I certainly did.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice frosty. I didn't move from the doorway, blocking his entry.

James smiled and the malice in it sent a shiver down my spine. He moved closer but I stood my ground, tipping my head back to look at him.

"Heard you lost your job today," he said, and I caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

"Thanks to you," I snapped.

"It's not good for business to have sluts parading around the office," he sneered. "Tell me, did he have to work to get between your legs, or were you panting after him like a bitch in heat?"

The blood left my face in a rush. I couldn't believe what he'd just said to me. In spite of myself, tears stung my eyes at his crudeness. Then anger came to my defense. My hand came up and slapped him hard across the cheek.

"Don't talk to me like that," I spat at him, fury and dismay making my voice shake.

In a flash, he struck me with his fist, landing a blow to the side of my face that slammed my head against the door and left me reeling in pain. Grabbing my hair, he yanked me towards him and I cried out in pain.

"Blane will be through with you within the month and will toss you aside like the used garbage you are," he hissed at me. "Then you'll be sorry you chose him over me. And I'll make sure you're very, very sorry." Tears of pain stung my eyes as I struggled to remove his hand from my hair.

"Let her go." The voice startled both of us and James whipped around. CJ stood in front of her door, a gun in her hand. I nearly sagged with relief.

"Let her go," she repeated and I was glad to see her hand was steady as she pointed the gun at James.

James' lips curved in a frightening smile that seemed half crazy. He shoved me aside and I fell hard against the door frame, wincing as my shoulder took the brunt of it. I just managed to keep to my feet.

"No problem," he said, "I was through with her anyway." We both watched him as he walked down the stairs and didn't move until we heard his car pull out of the lot.

"Thanks," I managed to get out, and CJ hurried over to me.

"Let's get some ice on that," she said matter-of-factly, helping me into my apartment. I was too stunned and in too much pain to resist as she pulled me inside. She sat me on the couch and went to my kitchen for the ice. When she came back, she handed me the bundle of ice wrapped in a washcloth and sat down beside me. Gingerly, I held it to my throbbing cheek.

"Who the hell was that guy?" she asked. I grimaced.

"He used to be my boss," I answered. I was still reeling from the bizarre confrontation; I had trouble wrapping my mind around James' reaction. He'd acted like he'd caught me cheating on him. While I had been upset that he'd gotten me fired, I hadn't in a million years thought he'd hit me.

"What an asshole," she said with a disgusted snort. She looked around the apartment now with undisguised curiosity. "Looks like they did a pretty good job cleaning this place up."

"Yeah," I said noncommittally. I didn't want to think of Blane right now. Getting up from the couch, I went to the kitchen, tossing my makeshift icepack into the sink. My head was pounding so I swallowed two pain capsules.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I called to CJ.

"Sure." Digging through the unknown contents of my refrigerator, I unearthed some kind of bottled tea beverage and poured her a glass. Instant tea from a bottle was kind of ick, in my opinion, but I guess a lot of people liked it.

"Thanks again for helping me out," I said, returning to the living room and handing her the glass. "I'm surprised you were up," I continued, sinking back down onto the couch. "Didn't you say you sleep during the day and work at night?"

CJ took a swig of the tea before answering. "Yeah, usually I wouldn't have heard, but I had trouble falling asleep."

"So what do you do for a living that you work at night?" I asked, curious. "And why do you have a gun?"

"I'm a computer programmer," she said, surprising me. "I work for a company in Japan so I have to keep their hours. And I have a gun for protection, of course." She said this last part like I was an idiot for even asking. And after the scene with James, I couldn't disagree.

"That's impressive," I said. And it really was. She seemed very young. "Why don't you move to Japan if you already have a job there?"

CJ shook her head. "No way. Have you seen some of the crazy shit they eat over there? No thanks. I'm staying right here in the good ol' U. S. of A." Reaching in the pocket of her black jacket, she pulled out a cigar.

"You mind?" she asked, and I grimaced. I hated cigarette and cigar smoke, though strangely, pipes didn't bother me. She caught my look and put the cigar away with a slight sigh.

"Aren't you a bit young to smoke cigars?" I asked. She looked younger than me. She just cocked an eyebrow at me.

"I've been programming computers since I was ten and on my own since I was sixteen. I figure if I want to smoke a cigar, I'm going to smoke a cigar." Well, I couldn't argue with that and I had to admire her independent attitude.

"What do you do?" she asked, and I hesitated. In view of her obvious talents, my life seemed downright pathetic.

"Well, this morning I just got fired," I said reluctantly.

"That sucks," she said, sounding sympathetic.

"But I still have my night job, so I guess that's not too bad." Speaking of which, I'd better see if my outfit was still in the car. I'd need the tips I'd hopefully get from showing some skin tonight.

"What do you do at night?"

"I'm a bartender at The Drop." I wondered if that was all I was destined to be, if my aspirations for an actual career had disintegrated.

"That's cool," she said, and it was a testament to her age that she seemed to actually think it was. "Well, I'm going to get some shut eye," she said, getting to her feet and setting the now empty glass down on a nearby table. "Nice talking to you."

I smiled at her and walked her to the door. "Same here. And thanks again."

"Don't mention it." With a cocky grin that made her seem far friendlier than she had appeared the first time I'd seen her, she retreated to her apartment. Heading downstairs, I retrieved my paper bag and Mark's backpack from the trunk of my car.

It felt like I was invading Mark's privacy by opening his backpack. The thought briefly crossed my mind that, since he was dead, he probably wouldn't mind. Embarrassed at my tactless thoughts, I pushed them aside and pulled out the contents.

There wasn't much in there. A few papers, a keychain with two keys on it and a DVD. The papers had no writing on them. I turned the DVD over in my hands, studying it. I didn't have a computer to put it in and no DVD player either.

Wait. I didn't used to have a DVD player. Glancing over at the new television, I hurried over to inspect it. Sure enough, there was a slot for what could only be a DVD down below the screen. Turning it on, I slid the DVD in and stood back so I could see the picture fully.

My breath caught as Mark came on the screen. He was obviously filming himself because he was fiddling with the camera. After a moment, he seemed satisfied and moved back so the camera could capture his image. Then he began speaking.

"If you're watching this, Kathleen," he said, and my eyes widened, "then I must be dead." His face was grim but he continued. "I can't say I'm happy about that, but I'm not surprised. There are some pretty big stakes involved in what I've discovered. I just wish I could have found a way out." He rubbed a tired hand over his eyes, then looked back at the camera.

"I'm sorry to involve you, Kathleen, but I didn't know where else to turn or who to trust. I can't tell you everything on here, in case this falls into the wrong hands, but please, Kathleen. Please help me."

I swallowed heavily, my vision blurring slightly with tears. It was horrible. I'd known all along he hadn't killed Sheila and committed suicide, but hearing the helplessness and fear in his voice made it so much worse to know what had happened to him. Someone had murdered both of them for something Mark had known. My attention was dragged back to the screen as he kept speaking.

"I left what you'll need at my house," he said and gave an address. I hurriedly grabbed some paper and jotted it down. "It's hidden," he warned, "and I can only give you a clue as to where to find it."

He had to be joking. A clue? Seriously? My heart sank. I had never been particularly good at puzzles. Mark stared intently at the camera, as if measuring his next words.

"Think like a smuggler, Kathleen."

That was it. The video was over and the picture turned dark. I stared at the dark screen. How was that clue supposed to help me? A smuggler hid things and Mark had hidden the information in his house, the clue was like circular logic; it made no sense and wasn't a clue at all. I drove a hand through my hair in frustration.

Well, it didn't matter if I couldn't understand. I had to go to his house and see if I could find it. I could no more turn my back on Mark's request to try to help him and Sheila than I could have turned my back on my dying mother. It just wasn't in me.

Grabbing the keys he'd left in the backpack, on the assumption I'd need them to get into his house, I tore the page with his address from my notepad, grabbed my purse and left, making sure to lock the door behind me. I supposed one good thing had come from my getting fired, I thought as I drove, I now had time to try to figure this out. The suspicion that I might end up like Mark and Sheila made my hands grip the steering wheel tight enough to turn my knuckles white.

Mark lived across town in a nice, middle-income neighborhood. The yards were all neatly tended and a few had Halloween decorations up. It was mid-afternoon and the neighbors were all at work. It was quiet save for a dog barking in the back yard of a house a few doors down. I thought it would be wiser not to park directly in front of Mark's house, so I parked on the street behind it, walking through the yards until I came to his back door.