Charge, page 7
At Everleigh’s questioning glance, I shrugged. “Archer promised to show her how to swim fast and hold her breath under water.”
“He talked to her?” Everleigh’s voice was disbelieving. I didn’t blame her since Archer had been avoiding her.
Sofie pulled on Everleigh’s hand to make sure she was paying attention. “He told me he jumps out of airplanes. And he swims with sharks. But he isn’t scared.”
Handing over Sofie’s bag, I hugged my friend. “Maybe things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”
Sofie dragged Everleigh outside, her mind already on where they could stop on the drive home.
After waving them off, I went back to my room, collapsing onto my bed. Kids were exhausting. I didn’t know how Everleigh was glowing all the damn time.
My last conscious thought was of how I could talk to Archer about my friend without pissing him off. Something which might be impossible.
7
ARCHER
“There’s talk of another attack,” Devon said as soon as I answered my phone. “And Gunner is locking everyone down. That includes you.”
Walking outside, not wanting anyone to overhear me, I paced on the patio. “How certain is this? I’m not going to keep everyone confined to the house just because someone’s panicking.”
Devon scoffed. “You clearly don’t know Gunner if you think he scares easily. This is solid intel. Carter finally found a trail. And I have a feeling we won’t like what we’ll find if we keep digging.”
Yet we couldn’t stop until we knew who’d killed Sam, a member of our team. It had all happened before I started with Locked Security, but someone was still disrupting operations, hitting strategic locations, and attacking teams out in the field.
Resigned to spending more time close to Thea but unable to touch her, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How long?”
“Twenty-four hours. Carter is working nonstop. He’s the best, but he can only go for so long before even he needs to take a break.”
“Keep me updated.”
I knew I sounded desperate, but I didn’t care. Thea had been doing nothing but lying out by the pool in a tiny bikini. I only had so much self-control when the object of my obsession was right in front of me, barely covered.
It was getting harder to put distance between us. But she was married and a client. Acting on my attraction was out of the question.
At least this appointment wouldn’t be forever. William was finally making headway, getting out of his entanglements with the Russians. My hunch that he’d been withholding information had been correct, and he had still been fulfilling contracts when we came on board. But he was now finally doing the right thing and ceasing all business dealings with them.
It would take a lot of money and negotiations to get him out with all his fingers attached, but maybe a little scare wouldn’t be the worst thing. He could live without his pinkie if it meant he’d never put Thea in danger again.
Staying outside, I checked in with all the guys, telling them we were on lockdown until further notice. The place was locked down tight already, so we didn’t have to put additional security in place.
Thea didn’t leave much anyway. And besides speaking to Everleigh every day, she didn’t keep in touch with anyone.
Thea had tried a few times to get me to talk to my sister. I hadn’t reacted rationally and walked off without a word.
She’d been treating me with more caution ever since. I felt like a bastard, but the thought of talking to my sister made me want to throw up. I wasn’t ready. Eventually, I’d have to tell her what had happened to me. But not yet.
I walked back into the kitchen, where Thea was laughing with Jacques, William nowhere to be found as usual. Giving her a moment before I’d have to kill her good mood, I stayed near the glass doors, drinking in her clear voice, her full lips, and the tiny scar through her eyebrow.
She’d gotten it when she had been goofing around on my skateboard and crashed into the edge of the stairs she’d been trying to jump over.
The memory made me long for the past. For a life that had seemed so black-and-white. Where I had no doubts about my path. Because I’d been sure it would always lead me back to Thea.
Stepping forward, I cleared my throat. “You got a minute?”
Thea nodded and moved in my direction. I walked out to the hallway, stopping when we were out of earshot. My men would tell the staff what was going on, but it was on me to tell Thea and William.
“There’s been an issue, and we’re all on lockdown for twenty-four hours.”
No point in easing her into it. She knew something was up, and I’d always been one to rip off the Band-Aid instead of dragging it out unnecessarily.
She stilled, studying my face. “What does that mean? Are we in danger?”
“It’s a precaution. But it means you should stay on the grounds until we get the all clear.”
“Does this have anything to do with what happened on the boat?”
I tensed at the mention of her almost-kidnapping. “This is something Locked Security is dealing with and has nothing do to with your husband’s problems.”
Her face blanched. “Are you in danger?”
She looked almost sick at the thought of me being in danger.
“Gunner is the best at what he does. And he only hires the best. This is only a temporary hiccup.”
With her hands on her hips, she studied me. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“My job isn’t exactly safe, so I don’t think I can ever say that I am.”
Her face visibly shut down, and she turned away from me. “I’ll call William to let him know.”
It would be a long twenty-four hours if she was already mad at me.
A perky receptionist greeted me with a wide smile as soon as I stepped inside the cozy waiting area. The carpet was a deep burgundy, the pictures on the walls showing mostly serene landscapes.
The faint lavender smell and low classical music made me want to turn on my heels and walk out.
But after spending twenty-four hours locked in the house, I was grateful for a break. Even if it meant someone would poke around in my head.
“Mr. Bennet. Please walk right through to Callie’s office. Hers is the second door on the left.”
Saluting her and getting a giggle in return, I marched down to the door she indicated.
Best to get this over with.
Knocking, I entered when a voice answered.
The office was fitted out the same way as the reception area, minus the annoying music. Instead of the middle-aged woman with glasses I’d somehow made out in my mind, the psychologist sitting behind the desk was an attractive brunette around my age.
Her blouse was tight across her chest, one of the buttons barely holding on. Her pouty lips looked more fitting for a porn star than a therapist, her meticulously made-up face regarding me with open curiosity.
Not what I was expecting.
She stood up, holding out her hand for me to shake. “Mr. Bennet. It’s lovely to meet you.” She pointed to a chair in front of her desk, then sat back down. “Please, take a seat.”
Dropping onto the soft cushion, I smirked. “So, you’re the one who’s going to fix me?”
She flicked a pen between her fingers. “That would be me. And I should let you know I’m also sending regular reports to your employer, as this is part of your employment contract. There’ll be no specifics in there, but I will let them know if you’re progressing or not.”
Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms. I knew she’d send reports. And I also knew I had to get through this. Didn’t mean I had to enjoy it.
“Okay then, let’s get this over with.”
She laughed, opening a notebook. “Good to know you’re here out of your own free will.”
“As you said, this is part of my terms of employment.”
Already scribbling something down, she nodded. “Let’s get started, then.”
The next hour was as unexpected as my therapist. She was easy to talk to and didn’t push when she noticed me avoiding a topic. I didn’t have to lie on a couch or draw pictures. She also didn’t make me talk about Guyana. I definitely wasn’t ready to go there yet.
The hour passed so quickly that it surprised me when she put down her notepad. “You survived your first session. How do you feel?”
“Still screwed up.”
She laughed, shaking her head at me. “I want to see you twice a week. I know you’re on a job right now, so we can meet late, same as today.”
Getting up, I nodded. “Not like I have a choice.”
Raising a brow at my honesty, she leaned forward. “And here I thought we were getting along.”
“I stayed for the full hour, didn’t I? I’d call that getting along.”
Waving me out, she turned back to her scribbled notes. “Talk to Ines before you leave so she can get you on the schedule.”
Grunting in affirmation, I stopped at the receptionist desk on my way out. “You Ines?”
Giggling once more, the girl put a hand to her chest. “Sure am. How can I help?”
Her voice took on a throaty purr at the end, and she fluttered her lashes as if it were an Olympic sport. I’d usually have asked for her number by now, but I somehow couldn’t muster up enough interest today, Thea’s face flashing through my head.
And wasn’t that the kick in the balls I needed? Because I was lusting after a married woman. A woman for whom I was now passing up the opportunity of a sure thing.
“I need to make regular appointments. Twice a week, after six.”
“Callie said she can schedule you in at seven on Tuesday and Friday. You must be special for her to stay behind. She usually finishes at five, no exceptions.”
I shuffled on my feet, needing to get out of the suddenly stifling office. “See you Friday.”
She gave me a finger wave and a wink. And all it did was irritate me.
What has Thea done to me? Now I can’t even flirt with someone without it feeling wrong.
I stopped for a drink on the way home, refusing to head straight back. If I stayed out long enough, I could avoid seeing Thea.
I already knew it would be another long night with little sleep.
8
THEA
I once again spent the night wandering the empty house. Archer had been disappearing on Tuesday and Friday nights for three weeks. And it was killing me not knowing where he was going or who he was seeing.
Does he have a girlfriend? Random hookups?
And now William had gone to France to be with Ciel. I should have been used to getting left behind by now, but when the days were long and the nights longer, I had entirely too much time to think.
Archer had been avoiding me as much as possible, only allowing me short peeks of his disappearing form as he walked to wherever I wasn’t. It’d become clear he was avoiding me. The thought hurt, my already bruised heart groaning under the extra strain.
Everleigh was away with Lucius and Sofie to visit his aunt in Oregon, and they wouldn’t be back for another four days.
I almost wished we were back in lockdown. At least then there’d be people around. But when I was at home, the guys on-site stayed outside and didn’t talk to me even if they were in the same room.
Clutching the caramel popcorn and Dr. Pepper I’d found in the pantry, I padded back to my room on silent feet. I was wearing a paint-stained T-shirt and worn leggings, forgoing socks and shoes. Every inch of floor space in the house was heated.
It was a luxury I’d quickly become addicted to. Hopefully I’d have enough money to move to a house with heated floors once my time here was up. For now, I’d enjoy never getting cold feet and having access to unlimited snacks.
A chocolate bar stuck out of the waistband of my leggings since I didn’t have any other way to get it back to my room. Maybe I should see the positives in being by myself. No need to dress up or act like I was sophisticated when I definitely wasn’t.
Kicking the door shut behind me once I made it back into my room, I dropped my loot on the bed, debating what to eat first. Settling on the chocolate bar, I tore it open, then went back to the easel. I’d been trying my hand at charcoal. My hands and face were smudged, but the drawing was taking shape.
Carlotta had retrieved all my painting supplies when she went into the pool house to clean. There were too many paintings to move, so I left them there, safely hidden away in the closet.
Painting was my escape, the place I went to when the reality of my situation became too much. I’d been taking online courses for years, working on refining my skills.
I had a closet full of art that I didn’t know what to do with. But every piece meant too much to me to throw in the trash, so they were gathering dust instead.
Putting the music back on, I bopped my way through the familiar sounds of the Beach Boys.
My mom used to listen to “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” nearly every day. The few good memories I had of her were us dancing in our rickety old trailer, hoping it wouldn’t topple over from all the jumping.
I wondered if I’d ever hear from her again. But as long as there was money to squeeze out of someone, she would never disappear. I’d tried paying her off many times, asking her to only contact me if she wanted to spend time together, not use me as an ATM.
But each time, she came back only once the money ran out. The longest she’d left me in peace was two years. And that was only because I’d given her all the money I’d had access to at the time.
After William found out what I’d done, he’d cut off all my access to his accounts and given me a daily allowance. It was still more money than I’d ever made on my own, but the thought that he didn’t trust me stung even now, years later.
But I didn’t think clearly when it came to my mom. Something I was well aware of but unable to change.
Picking my pencil back up, I added more lines to the portrait I was working on. When I started, I hadn’t been sure what I was going to draw. But it became clear after the first few strokes whose face wouldn’t stay out of my head and demanded to get its own sketch.
At least nobody would see it. Which extended to my terrible dancing. I had an even worse singing voice, butchering every note. But my room was my safe space, the only place I could be myself. And that included shaking my booty and singing.
The music was loud enough to keep anyone in the house awake, but since the staff didn’t sleep on-site except for Archer, I wasn’t worried about disturbing anyone. The only people remaining on the property were the guys outside.
And I guessed Archer was holed up in the pool house. Which was too far away to hear the music. My eyes drifted to the dark building, and a sigh escaped despite my best efforts to tell myself it didn’t bother me that we weren’t talking.
Once I finished the drawing, I pulled out my paints. I’d been mainly drawing with charcoal and a bit of watercolor, but wanted to try my hand at encaustic paint tonight.
I’d never been brave enough since wax had to be heated. But I’d decided to take the plunge tonight, purchasing a wooden board to paint on and a small hot plate to heat the wax. William would have had a heart attack if he knew what I was doing in my room.
The process also included a heat gun, which I was excited to use. I put on my apron and made sure the protective fire-resistant cloth covered the floor and table before heating the metal pots that held the wax.
I decided to paint something I’d done a hundred times before: the beach outside my window. My room faced the water, its location on the top floor the perfect viewing point.
William had built me an art room on the other side of the house that overlooked the driveway and only had one window. Once he realized I preferred painting in the pool room, he’d helped me drag all my supplies and the table there.
It turned out using paint that hardened almost as soon as I applied it wasn’t as fun as I first thought. I wasn’t used to operating a heat gun while painting and created unintentional smudges and shaky strokes.
When I finally gave up, my apron was a mess of paint and burnt spots. My hair now had splashes of green and a few singed edges, and I’d burned my fingers a few times.
At least now I knew I preferred my watercolors and pencils. No more experiments.
Dropping the apron on the floor and turning off any appliances I’d worked with, I made my way to the pantry in the kitchen where the first aid kit was.
I didn’t bother turning any lights on since I could walk there with my eyes closed, and the outside lights shining through the windows provided enough illumination for me to find my way.
Rounding the corner, I toppled into something, bounced back and landed on my butt, knocking the breath out of me.
Someone kneeled next to me, brushing hair out of my face. I knew as soon as the familiar aftershave hit my nose who it was.
“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Archer’s face was drawn, his gaze searching my body for injuries, his hands gently touching my face.
Taking a wheezing inhale, I brushed his hands aside. They felt way too nice, and I knew I was veering into dangerous territory, letting him touch me. He did things to my body that I couldn’t explain and understood even less.
Archer had other plans, catching my hands in his. “What happened to your fingers?”
I grimaced at the red spots and blisters that marred my skin. I’d done a good job making a mess not only of my clothes but also my hands. “I burned myself getting the pots off the hot plate and using the heat gun.”
Releasing my hands, he helped me up, an arm around my waist. The heat of his body seeped into me, and I fought against the urge to lean into him. He was just being nice, yet all I could think about was how I wanted to stay this close for a bit longer.
“Are you painting again?”
I stilled, pleased he remembered but sad at the same time at the reminder that the only person besides Everleigh who knew everything about me was no longer my friend.
