Surrender (15 page)

“No, thanks.”

“Then you’d better behave.” He gave my bottom a sharp smack. The sound was amplified in the tiled room, making me jump. The stinging that followed made my skin warm. And that made me warm everywhere else.

He took a long up-and-down look at me and shook his head. “You’re insatiable.” Then, much to my disappointment, he left, shouting through the door after he closed it, “If you touch yourself, I swear, you’ll be sorry.”

I turned the water to steamy hot, grabbed the soap, and smiled.

Sorry? We would just see about that.

15

A
n hour later I was on my way to work . . . with a big, goofy smile on my face. While I was still extremely worried about my brother’s future, the night I’d spent with Kam had put me in a very different frame of mind. I trusted Kam when he said Joss’s safety wasn’t currently an issue. All I needed to focus on was doing what I could to find the real guilty party.

Determined to do just that, I went into my office with a solid plan. The assumption was whoever had done it knew my brother fairly well. This person also had no qualms about allowing an innocent man to be fingered for the crime. That kind of planning and underhanded deviousness had to have shown itself in other areas of the person’s life. In other words, I believed he or she would have a criminal record. Thus, I would start there.

With one conversation with Kam, I had access to someone who could help me find out which of my brother’s friends had shady pasts and which did not. This someone turned out to be an old friend of Kam’s from school named Dave. Having no criteria by which to eliminate anyone, I gave Dave a fairly lengthy list of names and then went on the Internet to see what I could dig up on my own. Better to do something than to sit around and wait for the phone to ring.

By a little after ten, however, I was in need of some caffeine. My mood was good, but my energy level, not so great. I cracked open my door, catching Kam saying my name in a conversation with someone on the phone. Hoping it was Dave, with information about Joss’s friends, I peered through the crack, noted that he didn’t see me, and stepped to one side to eavesdrop.

Once, I’d been told it wasn’t ever a good idea to eavesdrop on someone else’s conversation. Rarely do you hear something you’d like to hear.

Truer words had never been spoken.

But, despite that fact, I’d also learned a long time ago that even though I might not like what I was hearing, there was still a good likelihood that what I heard would be useful in one way or another. In fact, as a kid, eavesdropping had kept me alive.

Considering the situation with my brother, I wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity either.

“No, she’s never mentioned her parents. Why?” he said.

A prickly chill shimmied up my back. Were they talking about someone who knew Joss, or me? If it was me . . .
Oh no.
I leaned closer and held my breath. I couldn’t miss a word. Not one.

“I don’t know about that. Are you sure?” Kam asked whomever he was talking to. His voice was laced with doubt. Little did he know what he was probably hearing was true, if they were talking about me. I had a lot more skeletons in my closet than most anyone would guess.

“Okay. I think you’re wasting your time. But you’re being paid to do a job. I get it.” He paused to listen to the voice on the other end. Then he said, “Call me when you get something,” and hung up.

I took several slow, deep breaths before opening the door.

His gaze jerked my way. His eyes widened for a split second, then returned to normal.

I forced a smile. “Hey, have you heard back from Dave yet? I’m expecting a call.”

“No.” Turning his attention back to the computer on his desk, he started poking keys. I didn’t like the way he was acting—distant, cold.

“Okay. I hope he gets back to us soon. I thought I’d head down to grab some coffee. Would you like some?”

“Sure. Black. Thanks.” He snatched up his phone again but didn’t dial.

I felt his gaze on my back as I walked across his office to the door.

Wow.

Crap.

Ugh.

Just last night I’d fallen asleep in that man’s arms. I’d felt not only accepted but cherished. And safe. So safe. Now . . . the way he’d watched me made me feel as if last night had never happened.

What had he been told? What did he know?

The instinct to run was almost unbearable. I’d followed that instinct before, when someone had gotten a little too close to the truth. Would I be forced to run again?

Dammit, Joss. If only you’d been able to stay out of trouble.

This time it isn’t his fault,
I reminded myself.

My mind raced as I rode the elevator to the lower level. The door rumbled open, and I stepped out, hurried into the café, and poured two cups. As I was about to pay, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but something told me to answer.

“Hello?”

“Sis.”

Leaving the coffees sitting on the tray, I scurried into a corner, cupped my hand around the phone. “Joss? Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I’m fine. Got myself a nice hotel room. I wanted to call you to tell you not to worry about me. I’m okay. I talked to Sue. She told me you called her.”

“I’m trying to find out who is really behind the theft.”

“You still believe me, then? You believe I didn’t do it?”

“I believe you.”

I could hear his sigh of relief. “Do you think it’s someone I know?”

Hoping I wasn’t being eavesdropped on, I peered over my shoulder, checking to see if anyone was close enough to overhear my conversation. I didn’t see anyone within earshot. Stephanie was stuffing coins into a vending machine. And a few other employees I didn’t know were sitting, scattered, at tables, eating, drinking, talking. “I don’t know what to think, to be honest. I’m not Brenda Leigh Johnson, and this isn’t an episode of
The Closer
. But I have to figure it out soon. Kam said the company has hired an investigator. I think he’s digging into our past a little too deep for my comfort.”

“But you’ve got nothing to hide.”

He had no idea.

“I know. It’s just that . . . the more they look at you, the guiltier you appear. We’ve got to clear your name.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s better if you just let it rest and go on with your life.”

A cold chill zoomed up my spine. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s about time you start living your own life.”

What was he doing? What was he trying to say? “I am living my own life.”

“No. Everything you do, you do either because of me or for me.”

“That’s what older sisters do.” My heart started thumping hard against my breastbone. Was my brother going to do something crazy? Would he turn himself in? Or would he disappear? Cut himself off from me? Oh God, I couldn’t imagine living my life not knowing where he was, wondering if he was dead or alive.

“No, that isn’t what older sisters do,” Joss said. “That’s what you do. Only you. You go way beyond what you should.”

“That’s because I love you.”

“And I love you too. And that’s why I’m telling you to drop it, go on with your life. I’m safe. I’m not going to starve to death or anything. I’ll be fine.”

I felt my fingers tightening on the phone. My stomach was coiling up into a tight knot. It hurt so bad I could barely breathe. “Joss, don’t do anything crazy.”

“I’m doing this for you. I’m letting you go.”

“No.”

“Just for now. For a while.”

My heart stopped. “No.”

“I love you, sis.”

The air left my lungs. “Tell me where you are.”

“Take care of yourself for once. If you love me, that’s what you’ll do. You’ll take care of yourself.”

I was frozen in place. Dizzy. I leaned to the side, letting the wall prop me up. “Joss.”

“I’ll be okay. I don’t need you anymore.”

“Joss!”

“Joss!”

I hit redial.

There was a beep. Then the call went straight to voice mail. I left a message and hung up.

A sob tore through my chest. I stumbled, knocking into a chair. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. A woman I didn’t recognize asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Trying to pull it together, I grabbed the coffee cups, paid, and staggered out to the elevator. I caught a few people staring at me. They must’ve witnessed my breakdown.

Humiliated, and succumbing to the urge to hide, I went for the staircase instead. Climbing two flights gave me some time to pull myself together. I rode the elevator up the rest of the way.

As usual, Stephanie gave me a little wave as I hurried past her. She had beat me upstairs, probably having taken the elevator. Kam was still at his desk. He didn’t acknowledge me until I set the cup down. Then, it was a polite nod. No smile.

Something was definitely wrong.

I went into my office and tried to pretend I wasn’t petrified and upset. Having things go from happy to this stressful within such a short time was going to kill me. My insides were twisting and turning.

I heard Kam call my name, and my nerves pulled tight. My heart started thumping hard and fast again. I hadn’t felt this nervous around him since that very first day when I’d come to beg him not to go to the police.

Smoothing my sweaty palms down my thighs to dry them, I stood and took slow, deliberate steps out of my office and into his.

Kam watched me. His gaze never left my face. Not for an instant. “Please sit.” Looking over the rim of his cup, he drank some of the coffee I’d brought up.

“Yes, sir?” My voice vibrated a little. Dammit, I was shaking.

“Why are you looking like a frightened little rabbit, Abigail?” His gaze fixed to mine, he stood, circled the desk, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you nervous?”

“Um, no. Not nervous. I just noticed—”

“Noticed what?” He stepped between the chair I was sitting in and the front of his desk. Leaning forward, he set his hands on the arms of the chair, crowding me. “What did you notice?”

Unable to speak, I stared into his eyes. Just last night those eyes had been full of wanting and need and raw male hunger. Now they were cold and hard. A big lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but I couldn’t.

“Are you trying to come up with a good lie?” His words sliced through me like razors.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t know what I mean? How many secrets do you have, Abigail Barnes?”

“Everyone has secrets. Even you,” I countered.

“Sure, but my secrets aren’t . . .” He blinked. Wobbled. Shook his head. His brows drew together and his face paled. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

He straightened up but teetered backward. His ass hit the desk and he slumped to one side, catching himself with his arm. “Shit.” He blinked. One hand flattened on his forehead. He stared down for a moment, then looked at me again. “Tell me now. What the fuck did you do to me?”

My blood turned to ice. “What’s wrong?”

He tried to stand but fell back down.

“Are you sick?” I reached for him, to help him, but he smacked my hands away.

“Get the hell out of here. Get out now.” Looking like he might fall over, he reached for the phone, grasped it in his hands. But before he had said a word, he collapsed onto the floor.

I screamed.

 

A couple of hours later Kam was on his way to the hospital, and I was on my way home. After he’d collapsed, Stephanie had come barreling through the door, reacting to my shriek. She’d called 9-1-1 while I tried to explain what had happened. Before I knew it, the place was swarming with police and rescue personnel. Kam was lifted onto a stretcher while I answered a flurry of questions blasted at me from all sides. Once things had settled down, I left.

No word yet on what was wrong. I hoped it was nothing serious.

As I drove home his words kept echoing in my head.

What had he meant by that? What made him think I would do anything bad to him?

Nothing. Unless . . .

He couldn’t have found out the truth. Nobody knew.

Once I was home, I couldn’t stop pacing. My phone wasn’t ringing. I didn’t know whether Kam was seriously ill. I couldn’t be sure, after what he’d said, whether my brother was still safe. All I wanted was for someone I cared about to tell me everything was okay.

Joss.

Kam.

Both.

Either.

God help me, they were all I had in this world. And now, it seemed, I’d lost them both.

Trembling so hard I could barely stand, I sank onto my couch and let the tears go. What did I do to deserve this? Hadn’t I only acted out of selflessness? Hadn’t I always put other people before myself?

It didn’t take long for me to grow weary of my pity party. I dried my face, took a shower, and went to bed.

Tomorrow would be a better day.

There was no way it could be worse.

16

M
y alarm clock woke me the next morning at six-thirty. Hoping I’d hear something about Kam when I got to work, I got dressed, grabbed a protein bar, and ran out to my car. Making one quick stop for some much-needed caffeine (I hadn’t slept much last night), I broke more than a couple of traffic laws to get to work before eight. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I was flying high on a caffeine rush and anxious to see whether Kam had come to work.

I dashed inside, making a beeline for the elevators. While I was waiting, a man wearing a suit approached.

He didn’t look very friendly. “Miss Barnes?”

“Y-yes, that’s me.”

“Would you please follow me?”

Strange.

Was he the investigator? Had to be.

I didn’t ask. I merely followed him. We went down the hall to a small conference room.

He shut the door. “I’ve been asked to escort you out of the building.”

“What?” I snapped, unable to comprehend what he’d just said.

“I’ve been asked to escort you out of the building,” he repeated, enunciating a little slower.

It didn’t help.

Once again, I blurted, “What?” Yes, I’d heard him, but I didn’t understand.

“You’ve been placed on leave.”

“Leave?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Evidently feeling our conversation was over, he grabbed the doorknob.

“Why was I placed on ‘leave’?”

“I couldn’t say.” He opened the door and stepped to the side to allow me to pass.

“When should I return?”

“I was told to tell you to wait to be contacted before returning to work.”

Wait to be contacted.

If that happened.

Stunned and confused, I shuffled past the man. “Can you tell me if Mr. Maldonado is okay? He was ill yesterday.”

“No, I cannot say.”

Even more bewildered, I walked outside, the man who’d informed me I was on leave tailing me to make sure I left. He stood at the door and watched me get into my car. And he didn’t go back inside until I’d pulled out of my parking spot.

Ohmygod.

Ohmygod!

I’d just been told to leave work. I’d been escorted out by some security guard before I’d even made it up to my office. What the hell was going on?

I tried to remember what Kam had said on the phone yesterday. It seemed that everything had changed after I’d overheard that conversation. What had he said?

He had to have been talking about me, not one of Joss’s friends.

There’d been a mention of someone’s parents. I clearly remembered that. Otherwise, nothing else had been said that sounded like it warranted my being put on “leave,” escorted out the door, and told not to return.

Was it possible someone had found out . . . ? No.

I became lost in my thoughts as I drove home. Before I realized it, I was parked and staring at the front of my apartment building.

Was it time to pack up my stuff and move again?

My head dropped forward, my forehead resting against the steering wheel. When my brother and I had moved into this place, I’d told myself I was done running from the past. We would stick it out here, no matter what.

No. Matter. What.

But now . . . now that I’d lost my brother and I was alone, this didn’t feel like home anymore. It felt empty and cold.

Even so, I didn’t want to move again, dammit. I dreaded starting over, finding a new job, a new home.

More than that, I dreaded not seeing Kam again.

I ran inside, pulled out my suitcase, and started tossing all my most treasured belongings in it. My clothes, the pictures of my brother and me, all our important documents—birth certificates and school records.

I hauled the suitcase out to the car, heaved it into the trunk and ran back inside for one final sweep of the place. But when I got into the car and looked up at the building, I couldn’t drive away. I just couldn’t. Not yet. Not until I’d spoken with Kam. I needed to find out exactly what was going on. And if the need be, I would tell him the truth. The whole truth.

The truth that even Joss didn’t know.

Then, if he rejected me, I would leave, knowing there was no chance he could accept me.

Leaving my suitcase in the car, I dug my phone out of my purse as I wearily walked inside. This was going to be hell. No doubt about it. But I could see no other choice.

With my heart thumping in my ears, I dialed his number and waited, breathlessly, for him to answer.

He didn’t.

Either he was still in the hospital, and thus couldn’t have his cell phone turned on, or he wasn’t taking my calls.

I tried again.

It went straight to voice mail. Again.

Dammit. Now I was going to have to try to track him down and meet with him face-to-face. I had no idea, considering I’d been escorted off MalTech’s property, whether I’d be allowed to visit him if he was in the hospital. I decided to call and see if he was a registered patient.

Good thing I did. He’d been released already.

I didn’t know where he lived. I’d been to his house, but I didn’t have a clue how to find it.

I was screwed.

I flopped on the couch, tossed my phone on the coffee table, and dropped my face into my hands.

I felt completely and utterly defeated. And alone. And sick. And scared.

My eyes blurred. My nose burned.

Shit.

I grabbed my purse, my phone, stormed toward the door, yanked it open, and ran smack-dab into a broad chest. Hands grabbed my arms, and I was forced back. The door was slammed.

I jerked my head up.

Kam.

“Pack a bag,” he growled.

“I . . . what?”

“Pack a bag,” he repeated.

“I have one.”

“Where?”

“Car.”

“Let’s go.” Releasing only one arm, he half dragged me out of my apartment, down the walk, and out to my car. Next to it was a big, black SUV I’d never seen before. “Get your stuff.”

I popped the trunk of my car, dragged my bag out. He snatched it from me, opened the back end of the SUV, and tossed it in.

“Get in,” he ordered.

“Where are we—”

“Just get in.”

Hands trembling, I strapped myself in the passenger seat. What the hell was going on?

He said nothing as he belted himself in and started the vehicle. He stomped on the gas, and the SUV zoomed back, out of the parking spot. Then he stomped on the brake, shifted into drive, and within seconds my apartment building was out of sight.

I alternated between watching the scenery whiz by my window and studying his tense face. When it appeared that his jaw wasn’t quite so tight, his eyes quite so narrow, I asked, “Kam, where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Safe?”

“Yes.” He glanced in his rearview mirror.

He’d been checking the mirror a lot, more than normal. I peered over my shoulder.

“Is someone following us?” I asked.

“I hope not.”

The vehicle’s speed increased a bit.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded.

“We’re heading to a friend’s property for a while. We have a lot to talk about.”

We had a lot to talk about. That didn’t sound good. “Can’t we talk now?”

“No. We’ll wait.”

“How far away is this friend’s house?”

“A few hours.”

A few hours? “Okay,” I muttered on a sigh. Leaning against the door, I watched trees and buildings and cars zoom by until I was too bored and sleepy to bother. I closed my eyes and tried to doze. I couldn’t.

I checked Kam, to see if he looked more relaxed and willing to talk.

He didn’t.

This was going to be a long few hours.

 

“Now?” I asked, almost four hours later, after Kam had pulled the SUV into the garage and shut the door. We were safe. We were alone. We’d driven over two hundred miles and were out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere outside of Muskegon. Tall, spindly trees lined the roads for miles. Those same trees walled in the house we were presently letting ourselves into. It was a vacation house, nicely furnished.

“Not yet.” Carrying both our suitcases, Kam lumbered down a hallway. He left my bag in one room, then continued down the hall with his bag. He shut the door, closing himself in.

I dragged my suitcase toward the bed. I didn’t bother opening it. Instead, I headed out to the kitchen for something to drink.

The mood I was in, it needed to be something with a lot of alcohol in it.

I didn’t find any alcohol. So I settled for a can of diet cola. Sipping, I wandered a little, checking out my new, temporary home while trying to settle my rattled nerves. The house was really nice, with a set of French doors leading out to a huge deck. There was a swimming pool and a killer view of a lake beyond that.

Yes, the sight of the green trees reflected on the lake did soothe the nerves a little. Until I heard footsteps approaching from the house.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Kam looked a little less intense.

“This place is gorgeous,” I said, thinking small talk would get things rolling.

“We’re not on vacation,” he said, his voice chilly.

“I guessed that much. Ready to tell me what’s going on?”

His lips thinned a little as he came closer. Leaving a fair amount of distance between us, he stood next to me, arms resting on the railing, facing the pool and the lake. “Things are really fucked up, and I don’t know what to believe.”

“Tell me what’s happened. Are you okay? You were sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled. He didn’t smile back. “What did you mean when you asked me what I’d done?”

“I was drugged.”

“And you thought I’d drugged you.” A shiver raced up my spine as I remembered his words, the cruel, cutting tone of his voice. “Why would you think I’d do a thing like that?” I asked as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t look him in the eye now.

“I became sick after you gave me the coffee.”

“Was it the coffee?”

“The results of the test aren’t back yet.”

“Still, didn’t you think it unlikely that I would drug you then, when I’d had so many opportunities to in the past? And also, if you recall, I was drugged too. In New York.”

“I did recall that. And yes, I did wonder about the timing, too. But because I had discovered some information about you, and I sensed you were aware of what I’d learned, I felt you might have the motivation to do it.”

Yes, it was exactly what I’d feared.

“What was the information you learned?” I asked as I tried to hide my growing panic. He was much too close to the truth.

“I learned you were once considered a suspect in your father’s death.”

Oh God.
“His death was ruled a suicide,” I pointed out.

“Yes, I learned that too.”

“I was never officially charged with any crime,” I added.

“I learned that as well.”

My heart did a flip. “So, do you still think I’m capable of killing someone?” I held my breath, knowing his response would mean everything—the difference between a possible future together or not.

“I never did think it.”

My insides unknotted. I risked looking his way. He was studying me with sharp, probing eyes. “But you thought I might drug you?”

Glancing down at his foot, he kicked the railing we were leaning against. It wiggled a tiny bit. “I wasn’t thinking clearly then. I was under the influence of the drug.”

“What about now?”

Straightening up, he turned toward me. He left one arm resting on the railing. “I’m thinking it’s highly unlikely you were the culprit.”

“Highly unlikely?” I echoed. In other words, he hadn’t ruled me out. I was hurt. Truly. Genuinely. And scared. But then again hadn’t I done the same thing? Hadn’t I jumped to conclusions when I was drugged? “What drug was it? Can I ask that without appearing guilty?”

“Some kind of benzo-something. I don’t know. I think they said midazolam.”

A tiny quiver raced up my spine. I was scared, yes—still worried about what he thought of me after learning about my father’s death. But I was also feeling guilty for having blamed him for my drugging. “That was what I was drugged with too. Do you think the two incidences are related? If they aren’t, that’s a mighty strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I agree. Which is why I brought you here.”

For the first time in hours, I inhaled fully. So he didn’t really believe I might poison him. And he didn’t believe I could have killed my father. “Then it wasn’t to interrogate me.”

“Partially, yes, it was.”

“Oh.”

His gaze swept across my face. He shoved his fingers through his hair, leaving it a mess of waves. A breeze riffled through it, making it ever messier. “Shit. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be interrogated. You haven’t done anything but put up with me and my crap since the first day you stepped in my office. Do I seem overly paranoid to you?”

“No, not really.” I released a long sigh. “Both of us have been drugged recently. I don’t know if that kind of thing has happened in the past. Maybe it is a coincidence and maybe not. Perhaps you’ve made a lot of enemies I don’t know about. Maybe there are a lot of people who would like to see you knocked down a rung or two. Maybe you need to be paranoid.”