Surrender (22 page)

“Oh. Okay.” His gaze wandered from me to the counter, settling on his phone.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted me to buy?” I asked, trying to distract him.

“No. Not that I can think of,” he responded. He slowly moved toward the counter. “I think I’ll go take a shower.” He leaned against the counter and, kind of hiding his movement, grabbed his phone and pocketed it. “Are you heading into work today?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” He waved over his shoulder as he retreated.

“Call me if you think of anything you want me to buy,” I shouted to his back.

“Will do.”

His door shut.

Oh God, he was going to figure out I’d been messing with his phone.

Abandoning my search for a writing implement, now that I’d totally forgotten T’s phone number, I went back to my room, grabbed my purse and car keys, and headed for the front door. In the distance I could hear water running. The sound was coming from my brother’s bathroom.

Had he checked his phone already? Was he suspicious?

I locked the front door on the way out and hurried to my car. Within minutes I was zooming down Ford Street, heading to work. I had no idea what to expect when I got there. Would I be welcomed back? Would I be scrutinized? Now that Kam was in jail, did I even have a position?

Really nervous, I drove to work, parked in the huge lot, and tried to hide my anxiety as I strolled inside. I took the elevator up to the tenth floor and exited.

Stephanie was sitting at her desk. She saw me and smiled. “Abigail! You’re back!”

“I’m back.”

“I’m sorry about your loss. Was it . . . your grandmother?” She winked.

“I heard you were out of work because of a death in the family,” she said, giving me a strange go-with-me look.

Why was she trying to get me to lie?

She jerked her head toward Kam’s office. Someone was in there. Someone who didn’t know I had been there the day Kam was arrested.

“Oh.” I schooled my expression to what I hoped would reflect grief. It wasn’t difficult. I was an emotional wreck. “Yes. My grandmother. I hadn’t seen her in a long time. She lives—lived—in . . . Omaha. I used to visit her every summer when I was a kid.”

Stephanie’s expression of commiseration was completely believable. “I’m so sorry. You missed a lot of crazy stuff going on.”

“Oh, really?” My gaze flicked to the closed door.

“Yes. Have you been out of the state the whole time? Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Mr. Maldonado’s in jail. For embezzlement,” she said, doing one hell of a good job at pretending to be telling me for the first time.

My stomach churned. Hearing it . . . hearing it spoken aloud made me feel sick. “What? No way. Really?”

“Yes. Could you imagine? The guy was stealing from his own company.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me either. But what do I know about how rich people think? I’m not rich. Maybe he was trying to hide income from someone? Maybe he owes somebody money?”

“Maybe.”

Kam’s doorknob rattled.

“Anyway,” Stephanie continued, her gaze hopping to the door before returning to me, “I was told you need to report to HR when you came in.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll do that then.” I eyed the shut door, wondering who was in Kam’s office. “Do you think they are going to assign me to a new position? I’d like to get some things out of my office.”

“Um . . . hang on.” She picked up her phone, dialed. In hushed tones, she asked whoever was in Kam’s office if I could go in and clear my desk. A few seconds later, she nodded. “You can go in and grab your personal belongings.”

“Thanks.” I opened Kam’s office door and slipped inside. His office looked pretty much as it always had. With the exception of the laptop computer that was usually sitting on the desk. I guessed the police had confiscated it as evidence. And the man I didn’t recognize sitting in his chair, using his phone.

He didn’t acknowledge me, so I scurried to my office and closed myself in. Within seconds a strange sensation overcame me as memories of the times Kam and I had shared in that tiny space shot through my mind. Like when I’d been tied to that chair and brought to the verge of ecstasy. How long ago had that been? Not long at all. And yet, so much had happened. So much had changed.

Now he was in jail, awaiting trial for a crime he hadn’t committed. And I had just learned that my brother, who I’d protected and cared for all my life, was somehow tied to the theft that had started this whole investigation.

Not since the day our father had died had my life been so turbulent and confusing.

I had hoped and prayed it would never be as crazy as it had been then. Until now I’d been able to keep things relatively calm, relatively normal.

I checked my desk. I couldn’t remember where I’d put everything, exactly, so I couldn’t say for sure whether anyone had searched through my things. My computer was gone.

I emptied a paper box, stacking the reams on a shelf, and loaded the few personal items I had brought to work in it. Then I headed out, box in hand.

Stephanie gave me a little wave as I headed for the elevator. “I hope you like your new position.”

“Thanks.”

My heart thumped hard in my chest as I rode the elevator down to the third floor. The fast, hard thudding didn’t ease when the car stopped. In fact, as the door rolled open, it amped up a notch.

Especially when I read the placard next to the HR manager’s door.

Terry Stimpson.

Terry
Stimpson. Yes, she
could
be the mysterious T. Hoping I would recognize T’s voice when I heard it, I gripped the box with my sweaty hands and pushed open the door.

Terry was sitting at her desk—the one Kam had been sitting at not so long ago, as we’d searched employee records for clues. Her brown hair was scraped back in a low ponytail, and she was wearing a dark gray suit and white blouse, pearl earrings. It was hard to imagine I might be staring into the eyes of a thief, that this uptight, conservative-looking woman might be capable of committing such a crime.

“Hello. I’m glad to see you’re back,” she said, not sounding particularly glad about anything.

Hmmm. Did that sound like Joss’s little sex partner? I couldn’t be sure.

Maybe yes.

Maybe no.

She was speaking in a very clipped, professional tone now. Nothing like how the woman had been talking to Joss.

I tried to look happy. “It’s good to be back.”

She motioned to the chair facing her desk. “Won’t you sit?”

“Thanks.” I set the box on the floor.

I couldn’t say one way or the other if Terry was T. I needed to listen closely, really concentrate.

She rested her elbows on her desk and leveled a serious look at me. “As you may have heard, we’ve made some sudden changes in the structure of the company. Your position as personal assistant to Mr. Maldonado no longer exists.”

Oh God. Was I going to be fired?

24

M
y heart had fallen down, down, down. It was somewhere in my ankles. As if things hadn’t been horrible already, they were about to get worse. How would I figure out what was going on if I was fired and couldn’t get into this building? How would I help Kam get out of jail?

I needed time. I needed access to the company’s computer system. I needed a fricking miracle. And I needed to find out who my brother was working with. I still couldn’t say whether the woman sitting on the other side of the desk was the woman who had been in my apartment.

I muttered, “Please—”

“I’m not through yet,” Terry interrupted, slanting her eyes at me. She cleared her throat. “I’ve found another position for you in the company.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Her stern expression softened somewhat. Slightly. Very slightly. “It isn’t at the same level, so you won’t be receiving the same salary.” She flipped open the folder sitting in front of her—my file, the one that had been missing—and extracted a piece of paper. “I hope you find this satisfactory.” She pushed the piece of paper toward me.

I glanced down.

Position: Maintenance Department Administrator.

Pay scale: $32,000 salary per year, paid weekly.

Wow, it was lower, less than I’d earned even before being bumped up to executive assistant. My heart slid to my toes. After payroll taxes and health insurance premiums, I was going to have to try to live on less than four hundred dollars a week.

A big, hard lump formed in my throat. I had always lived paycheck to paycheck. Things were rough before. They were about to get much worse. Even after the raise, I had tried to keep my expenses down. I didn’t spend money frivolously.

Thank God I’d been smart enough to sock away a fair amount of money in the bank when I was collecting those big paychecks. But that cash, coupled with the money Kam had given me while we were on the run, would only last so long. Then what? What would I give up? Utilities? Food? Rent? Insurance?

Hoping the downgrade would be temporary, and I would be going back to executive assistant when Kam was released from jail, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

“Very well. You can head down now and start your training. The person who has been in that position is being promoted. She starts her new position next week. If you have any problems, please feel free to come to me.”

“Thanks.” I stood, turned toward the door.

“Don’t forget your box.”

“Oh. Yes.” I squatted slightly and scooped it up. “Thanks.” Arms full, I headed for the door again.

“Incidentally, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but if you wish to continue your employ with MalTech, you must abstain from any contact with Kameron Maldonado.”

I pivoted around to face her. “O-okay.”

“It’s for your benefit as well as the company’s. Because of certain rumors, your reputation has been tarnished. If word were to get out that you were still communicating with the individual who stole from us, you might find yourself out of a job.”

Shit.
“I understand.”

“Good.” She flipped the folder shut. “Have a good day.”

Feeling a little like I had been thrashed, and still unsure whether I had found the mysterious T, I rode the elevator to the lower level and followed the narrow corridor to the door at the end. A small sign was affixed to the wall next to the doorway.

Maintenance.

I had gone from being on top to the very bottom.

Hopefully there was nowhere to go but up again.

I pushed open the door. The reception area was tiny and cramped. The furniture was old and slightly battered. A young woman who looked like she might be old enough to drive—maybe—gave me a big grin as I entered and jumped up from behind the crappy desk.

She was wearing jeans and a V-neck T-shirt that said REDNECK PRINCESS.

“You must be my replacement. I’m Baylee.” She extended a hand, and I accepted it.

“Abigail Barnes.”

She eyed my clothes. “Did you just interview? You’re awfully dressed up.”

“Um . . . yes.”

“Ah, okay. For the future, jeans are just fine. Nobody sees you down here but the guys, and they don’t care what you’re wearing. Though they are nicer if you wear something a little low-cut.” She tugged down the front of her shirt, exposing more cleavage. “You get my drift?”

A little bit of vomit surged up my throat.

Oh God, what depths I’d sunk to.

“Anyway.” Baylee plopped in her chair and spun toward the desk. “It’s really quiet down here most days. There isn’t much to do. You have to handle requisitions. You know, for toilet paper and paper towels for the bathrooms. And lightbulbs. This place goes through truckloads of that stuff every month. Occasionally you have to get quotes on jobs from outside contractors for repairs. And, of course, you have to answer the phone.” She jerked her head toward the one beat-up filing cabinet in the room. “We keep files on all expenses and vendors in there. They’re alphabetized by vendor name. I organized that mess.” Her chest puffed up with pride. “When I got here, all the receipts and invoices were being stuffed into cardboard boxes, one for each year. It was a huge mess.”

“I bet.”

She glanced at her watch. “Well, that took about ten minutes. Um . . .” Her gaze swept the room. “I suppose you’d like to sit down.”

“It might be nice.”

“Let me see if I can find a chair for you.” She hopped up again and scampered off somewhere.

I dropped my box in a corner, took her seat, and wiggled her mouse to wake up her computer. I needed to check the company’s employee directory, to see how many women had a name that started with a T.

Lots of men.

Only five women.

Five.

And of course one of them was Terry, my
friendly
HR representative.

I could do this. Five was doable. I could figure out which one it was, assuming it was someone from the company.

If it wasn’t Terry it had to be one of the others, right?

“Okay, here you are.” Baylee came flouncing in the door, carting an old metal and wood chair that had probably been in someone’s barn during the Civil War. She plunked it down in front of her desk, and, giving me a get-out-of-my-seat look, circled around to her chair.

I stood.

Her gaze jerked to the computer’s screen. “I see you know your way around the company’s computer system.”

“Yes. I’ve been working here for . . . a couple of years.”

“Oh, really?” She looked extremely surprised. I didn’t blame her.

“Yes. My former position was eliminated.”

“Oh. That sucks.” She flopped into her chair and stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated faux pout.

“Yes, it does suck.”

“But I’m sure you’ll work your way into something better in no time. It only took me three years, and now look at me. I’m going to be the Sales Department administrator, starting Monday.”

She’d hit the big time.

Okay, not really. But a little niggling bite of jealousy stung me. Here I was, a former executive assistant, and before that an employee with a good performance record, and because of someone else’s greed, I was now working in the castoff job of someone who had maybe an eighth-grade education.

The compulsion to cry nearly overtook me.

I must have made a strange face, because her proud look-at-me grin faded.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s not so bad. Really.” Leaning over the desk she added, softly, “They’ll keep their hands to themselves if you tell them you’re married.” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “See?” she said, showing off a gaudy ring with a cloudy faux diamond. “It’s a total fake. I bought it from QVC.”

If it wasn’t for Kam, and the fact that I had to find a way to get him out of jail for both our sakes, I would have walked out then and there.

 

Seven hours had never dragged so slowly.

When the minute hand hit the twelve, I rocketed out of there as fast as my legs could carry me. With Baylee there, hogging the computer all day—playing stupid online games—I hadn’t been able to get any further information about my suspects. Tomorrow I was planning on telling her she could take an extra-long lunch break and I would cover for her, just so I could spend some quality time on that computer.

I needed phone numbers, addresses, drivers’ license numbers. After spending seven hours in that closet of an office, and dealing with three perverts with leering eyes, sailor tongues, and wandering hands, I knew I wouldn’t last long in that job. I would either hurt someone or walk out. It was only a matter of time.

As I was driving home, my cell phone rang.

Wayne County Jail.

I couldn’t click that button fast enough.

“Please tell me you’re getting out,” I said, assuming it was Kam.

“Um. Hello to you too.” Kam. Oh God, it was great hearing his voice!

I steered off the road, parking in front of a gas station. My fingers tightened on the phone, as if by holding it firmer I might keep him there with me longer. “How are you?”

“Shitty. This place is worse than I ever imagined. You?”

“I feel like I’m in prison with you. They reassigned me. I’m the Maintenance Department’s admin.”

“Bad?”

“Horrid.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I’d rather not talk about it now. There’s nothing either of us can do about it, and I need to keep a job at MalTech so I can keep digging into who stole the plans.”

“Speaking of that, my attorney said I should confess and take a plea.”

Confess? My insides twisted. The air left my lungs. “No, don’t do that.”

“If I plea, I could get as little as three years. Take in good behavior, and I might be out in just over twelve months.”

“No! I can’t let you do that,” I snapped, my eyes watering. “I can’t let you lose even a month of your life because of what he did.”

“Who, he?”

“My . . . brother.” My heart started pounding hard against my ribs. I’d just done it, told someone about my suspicion.

“Your brother? Do you know something?”

“Not really.” I squeezed the steering wheel and sucked in a deep breath. God, it was hard to say this, hard to admit what my brother had done. “Last night, in our apartment, I overheard Joss talking to someone, a woman. They were discussing a bank account that hasn’t been found yet. He doesn’t realize I heard them.”

“Who was the woman? Did you know her?”

“I didn’t see her. I only heard her. And her voice wasn’t particularly unique. But I did get a hold of my brother’s cell phone—a phone he’s had for months but never used to call me—and looked at his contacts. He calls the woman T.”

“T. As in . . . Terry?”

“As in . . . maybe Terry. I got the impression my brother’s accomplice works for MalTech. But I don’t know whether it was her. I was able to search the company’s directory. There are only four other female employees whose names start with a T.”

“Wow, you’ve done great! I’m going to—dammit, give me five more minutes.”

“Of course you can have more than five minutes,” I said. A twinge of unease flashed through me. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“No, I wasn’t talking to you.” I could hear his sigh. My gut twisted at the sound. “My time’s up.”

“Okay. I’m glad you called. I . . .”
Click.
“Love you,” I said to the dial tone.

If only he’d had three more seconds.

Just three more.

 

Feeling slightly less nervous than I would have if I were about to face a firing squad, I headed inside my apartment. My brother’s car was parked in the lot. I knew he was home. Having probably been caught snooping on his phone (I couldn’t say for sure whether he had realized I had snooped), I wasn’t certain what to expect. I hadn’t ever probed into his personal life before. And, making matters worse, he had a lot to hide at the moment.

There was a huge lump stuck in the middle of my throat. I couldn’t swallow it down.

Struggling to clear my clogged throat, I let myself into our apartment. Right away I knew something wasn’t normal.

I smelled food.

Joss didn’t cook.

Could the mysterious Miss T be in our home? Was I about to find out who his co-conspirator was?

“Hello?” I called out as I shut the door behind my back. I set my purse on the entry table, like I always did.

“Back here!” Joss shouted. “In the kitchen.”

I followed the sound and the delicious aroma to the kitchen. My brother was alone. He was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. “I cooked dinner.”

“
You
cooked dinner?” I echoed, surprise and confusion overcoming my fear.

“Yeah. I learned to make a few simple meals for myself when I was in hiding. It got real old eating frozen dinners all the time.”

“I imagine it would.” I peered into the pot. It was some kind of red sauce. “It smells incredible.”

“Sit down. It’s almost ready.”

“Okay.” I checked the table. It was set for two. There was an open bottle of wine sitting in the table’s center. Wine sounded nice. Relaxing. As long as I didn’t drink too much. Relieved, since it seemed he hadn’t realized I had been checking his phone, I nodded toward the hall. “I think I’ll go change my clothes before I eat.”

“Sounds good. Everything will be on the table by the time you’re done.”

And it was. Spaghetti with meat sauce and salad and baked breadsticks—still warm.

Wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, I sat down and inhaled deeply, drawing in the scents of the bread and tangy sauce. My mouth filled with saliva. “This smells incredible,” I said as I filled my bowl with salad.

“Thanks.” My brother’s chest puffed up with pride. “I kind of like cooking. And I’m pretty good at it. I was thinking I might like to go to cooking school.”