Chapter 34
34
C ALLAN
The same day.
An hour earlier.
I put the electric razor down and run my fingers over my face.
These past few days were a nice break.
I ended up accepting Hudson’s invitation and have stayed a little longer.
I thought that spending time over there would work in my favor. And let’s be clear about it, it gave me an alibi.
I couldn’t make the call I wanted to make for practical reasons.The people Beverly had talked about left the city for a few days andreturned last night.
So I made the call this morning as soon as my plane landed. I still had the benefit of an alibi.
Although not an ironclad one.
I put some aftershave on and check my tie in the mirror.A few drops glimmer against my new tan.
The place had been cleaned after Mackenzie left, so I found no trace of her in my bedroom or the house.
The sheets were smooth, and the pillows perfectly lay against the headboard. There were no glasses, no food, and for sure, there was no naked woman in my bed.
I thought about her a lot while I was gone.
In the beginning, I was afraid I might forget about her.
Hudson’s place, the area in general, and the beach were captivating enough that I feared I might lose the memory of her between the luscious patches of vegetation, plants, and forest beaming with life.
She hasn’t left me, really. And getting updates from the people who have quietly run surveillance hasn’t helped either.
Her place was clean when they checked for electronic devices, and I wish there were a way to leave a camera in her room. To watch her sleeping or drinking coffee.
Getting dressed to step outside.
Since the bad people were out of town, I didn’t fear something could happen to her.
Now I’m back and checking my phone for updates for the tenth time before sliding my suit jacket on and running my fingers through my hair.
I won’t step out before getting a definitive answer.
The call arrives at around eight o’clock.
“It’s over,” my man says.
“Any losses?”
“None.”
“On the other side?”
“None.”
“Excuse me?”
“They fled before we got in.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know.”
A few moments pull away.
It’s not like I wanted a dozen dead bodies. But I expected more than this.
“Do you know who it was?”
“No. But I got the missing piece.”
“No way,” I say, things not making much sense. “Where are you? I’ll pick it up.”
“No need to. I’m on my way. A couple of blocks away.”
“Okay. I’ll see you downstairs.”
I drape my coat over my shoulders and tuck my phone into my pocket, thoughts spinning in my head.
Who leaked the information?
I didn’t know I’d make the call this morning.
Nobody knew.
I didn’t even tell Hudson.
He checks his house for bugs every day. And I have mine swept for bugs daily.
I just got in.
I hadn’t talked to anyone.
My feet take me to the elevator, and soon after, I walk out of the building, and my car and driver enter my line of sight.
He opens the door for me, and I instruct him to wait as I see my man pacing to my ride.
He slides into the bulletproof car, and I shut the door. The driver and my bodyguard wait outside.
“It took a while, didn’t it?” he says, smiling and reaching inside his coat.
He extracts a beautiful necklace with a huge pink diamond.
“You checked it,” I say, taking it from him.
“That’s where I was. It’s the original.”
I take it and drop it inside my suit jacket.
“So tell me. What happened?”
He gives me the address.
A place in Queens.
“A house I’m not familiar with,” he says. “It’s been on the market for a while and has never had any showings. The owner is a man who lives in Florida. He probably has no idea his house has a for sale sign on the front lawn.”
“Was Beverly with you?” I murmur, and he searches my eyes.
“No. But I thought about her as well,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You know I’ve been in this business for a long time and can vouch for this woman. She gave us a tip and wanted this to work out as much as you wanted it to work out.”
I wanted that guy dead. And I’m still not sure whether I’m dealing with the father, the son, or the nephew.
“Go on.”
“That’s it. The place was clean.”
“And you just found this on the table?”
“It was on the counter in a box. A jewelry box.”
I sag back, my arms crossed over my chest.
“I’m surprised they didn’t leave a handwritten note,” I say, filled with sarcasm. “So they knew we’d show up. Fuck them. This is a crazily expensive piece,” I add, realizing how ridiculous this is.
This guy or guys have fucked with me all this time.
They’ve harassed me. Wanted to kill Mackenzie. And then they dropped everything in a hurry and went poof.
I don’t know whether to throw a party and celebrate or hire some of the best investigators to find them before finishing them.
It’s bad.
It’s also over for now.
So they must’ve known I went to Costa Rica.
They must’ve also known I’ll figure out who they were.
They wanted me to find them.
That was their message.
I hate when people––foes and friends––leave things like this. Unfinished. I don’t trust these people.
I’ll call it a draw, then.
“Okay,” I say, visibly drained and irritated. “Thank you. You can go home.”
“Where are you headed?” he asks, his hand on the car door, pushing it open.
I crack a smile.
“Where do you think? I’m going to work.”
CALLAN
This never gets old.
Walking inside the sleek glass and concrete building, getting greeted by the doorman, having the security thrusts their chests out and nodding in silence.
I’ve kept this part of my life squeaky clean, and yet I still get those frightened stares as if I’m about to break someone’s neck with my bare hands.
And then there is the receptionist, and the secretary, and all the women who work for me.
They’re smooth and smiling, and some are young and bump into walls when I enter the top floor like now.
One of the ladies takes my coat as I stroll down the corridor without stopping.
The other one asks me how I want my coffee.
I give them brief instructions and enter my large office.
Not a cent has been spared to make this space as imposing and comfortable as it could be.
I don’t come to work every day, and when I do, I want to feel good.
The office manager enters my office with a few folders that need my attention.
The secretary walks in, carrying a platter.
She sets my coffee and a bottle of water down.
“You can go,” I say to her before shifting my focus to the office manager.
The manager smiles while I unbutton my suit jacket and slide into my seat behind my desk.
“How was your vacation?” she asks, sliding the folders onto my desk.
Her eyes move over my face.
“It was good. I never said I’d gone on vacation,” I reply, in a good disposition.
“You don’t need to.” She points to my face. “Your tan gives it away.”
“It does, you say,” I murmur, looking down. “What is this?”
“Everything that’s been approved and you need to sign off on. And some proposals.”
I grab a pen, go over them, and do my part.
“Anything else?” I ask, lifting my gaze.
“You said you wanted to meet the new hires.”
“Yeah. Sure. How many do we have?”
“Four have accepted our offers. Two more are interviewing now.”
“Let me know when they’re ready.”
“I’ll do that. Enjoy your coffee, sir.”
The woman spins around and walks out before quietly closing the door behind her.
Relaxing, I grab my coffee, pivot with my ergonomic desk chair, take a sip, and look outside, my mind going back to Mackenzie.
MACKENZIE
Moments earlier
“How was it?” Mrs. Goodman asks, entering the room where I’ve been interviewed by a woman named Rose.
She’s from the HR department––I think. That’s what the woman said when she introduced herself.
She went over a lot of information, yet nothing registered with me. I couldn’t focus since I walked into this building.
It’s not like I’ve never seen a building like this.
I worked in one. It looked similar, although it lacked the modern design and impressive offices.
The people here are nice, and despite my efforts, I think I’m gonna blow it since I’m still struggling with this annoying brain fog.
It would help if this job interview didn’t require so many steps.
Rose looks at Mrs. Goodman.
“We’re finished here,” she says.
Whatever that means.
I’ll still only be a secretary, even though it’s an executive position. I’ll still only fetch coffee for some guy and follow him around like a lost puppy.
“Good,” Mrs. Goodman says as Rose pushes out of her seat, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
Should I rise? Should I remain seated?
“Is he here?” Rose asks Mrs. Goodman under her breath, but not quietly enough so I can’t hear her.
“Yes. He just arrived. He’s in his office.”
Mrs. Goodman flashes a grin that has joy in it.
He, whoever the hell he is, must be a great boss.
Rose gives her a faint smile.
“All right… So, is everybody ready?” Rose asks, and I still don’t know what to do next and I wait for the two women to give me some directions.
“Not yet. Someone else is interviewing for this position,” Mrs. Goodman says.
This position? Does she mean my position?
Fangs of panic sink into my neck.
I probably look livid when Mrs. Goodman glances at me and notices the change on my face.
“No, no,” she says, smiling. “Whoever else they’re hiring will be working with you.”
This makes no sense. Please make it make sense.She shifts to me and speaks in secrecy.
“Our boss is a bit finicky. He likes to have several secretaries. And two of our current secretaries leave at the end of the month.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble.
She turns to Rose.
“She’s such a worrywart,” she says to Rose before moving away from the table where I sit. “Let me check with him. Maybe she can pop in, and I can introduce her to him,” Mrs. Goodman drones on, waiting for the other woman's reaction. “If this is all right with you?” she says.
Rose flicks her eyes to her coworker.
“Yes, of course. We’re done here. She’s great.”
I don’t know what makes her say that.
I don’t remember doing great as much as I don’t remember not doing great.
I don’t remember anything that happened these past few minutes.I’m really worried about my state of mind.
Mrs. Goodman looks at me again, pondering something.
“You know what? Leave your things here and come with me. We’ll see him now.”
I do as I’m told and follow the woman out of the office.
She talks to me as we stroll down the long corridor.
It’s something about how many days a week my new boss usually works. How they have work for me to do when he’s away. How he is a nice man, but everybody––for some reason––is afraid of him.
“You’ll know what I mean when you meet him. Just try not to get too intimidated by him,” she continues, a pang of humor flashing through her voice, and I’m envious that she has such a great boss.
And now I’m about to meet him.
She pulls up in front of a solid wooden door and knocks on it.
A faint ‘Come in’ travels from the other side.
She opens the door and whispers to me to stay put before stepping in and pulling it closed behind her.
They exchange words––that much I know––but none of them mean something to me. It’s all muted in my head.
A few seconds pass, and the door opens.
The woman pushes it to the wall and invites me in.
“You can go in,” she says, and I do just that.
She must not have given her boss much information about me, as she turns to the man drinking his coffee with his back turned to us and his eyes on Manhattan. And then gives him the following introduction.
“This is the woman I was talking about. She’ll tell you everything you need to know,” she adds in a cutesy tone, and I have a half smile on my lips as I pull my eyes from her and look closely at the back of the man rocking an expensive suit.
The recognition sets in immediately, zipping through me like fire, yet the disbelief is stronger, making my lips pull apart and my voice get stuck in my throat.
Mrs. Goodman lingers a little longer to make sure her boss and I connect eyes.
And when he glances over his shoulder and meets my horrified eyes, his expression changes so quickly it’s like dark clouds hover over Manhattan, wreaking havoc and bringing more snow.
His eyes look like tar, his expression stern and unforgiving.
He must have had a sip of coffee in his mouth since he swallows so quickly before setting the cup down at so much speed that I’m afraid the porcelain might get shattered.
He coughs.
The hot coffee must’ve scalded his mouth.
And somehow, the woman next to me misses her boss’ reaction.
He regains his composure immediately.
“Who’re you?” Callan asks in a voice that can’t conceal his displeasure, yet again, his employee misses the nuance.
“I’ll let you two talk and get the conference room ready.”
Smiling, Mrs. Goodman walks out and closes the door.
Once she’s out, Callan closes the distance between us, goes straight to the door, locks it, and turns around, his stormy eyes almost knocking me over.
“What the hell are you doing here, Mackenzie?” he pushes through his clenched jaw, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me as if wanting to pull me out of a dream or something.
This is a nightmare. I will agree.
My eyes prick with tears.
Of all the things I’ve been through these past few days, seeing him now here, pissed, my chance of getting a job gone, and the prospect of starting all over looming over me, this is the worst.
He notices the trembling of my chin, and his features soften, his grip becoming more forgiving.
“What are you doing here, Mackenzie?”
“You heard the woman,” I toss at him in spite. “I’m here for a job,” I say, my words having the taste of sand on my lips. “And if my boss signs off on that––meaning you––I will be working for you. Or maybe that is not possible, especially since you’ve ghosted me,” I bark.
He pulls me away from the door, his other hand coming to my shoulder.
Clutching my shoulders, he pins me with his glare.
“What are you talking about?”he growls quietly.
“Oh, please.”
I press my hands into his chest and try to push him away, not moving him an inch.
“You pulled off your men, so no one was watching me, and that woman who works for you no longer lives there.”
His eyes dart back and forth before his expression changes, and a dark chuckle falls from his lips.
“And you thought I’d ghosted you?
“Didn’t you? You said you needed to travel. You have traveled, I assume. You look like a pool boy who fell asleep in a lounge chair by the pool. Your tan…” I say, wiggling my fingers and pointing to his face. “And you returned, obviously. For the job interviews, I guess. It must’ve been so damn important to you to meet your new secretaries.”
Sarcasm bleeds in my voice.
“And yet, none of this time…” I wag my finger at him. “Has it crossed your mind to send me a message that you were still out there? Alive and well? Even now, you’re angry with me. When, in fact, I should be angry with you. And I am. And I’d been angry before you arrived. So please wait your turn to express your anger.”
His lips press into a tight line while he straightens and crosses his arms over his chest, his stare cutting glass.
“How did you get here?”
“You mean to your building? I shared a cab with Kayla.”
“Don’t play cute with me.”
“Do I?”
I move closer.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this job? I got laid off way before we met. I was frantically looking for work and almost ran out of money when you fell onto my balcony. Thank God you needed someone to run your errands. The money that you gave me helped me buy some food. And do you think it was easy to wait for Mrs. Goodman to call me back? To deal with the uncertainty of it all, as the woman, rightfully so, said, that she could only schedule me for an interview in January? Meaning this year. And then, she called again and postponed the interview. I can only guess you weren’t back from your ‘vacation’, so I waited and waited. And that’s not all.”
I stop and suck in a long breath.
“While not knowing whether I’d have the money to pay the next month’s rent and get my first paycheck on time, I was twisted into a pretzel, torn beyond disbelief because I hadn’t heard from you. You were the proverbial man going out to buy a pack of cigarettes and never coming back. I know what we talked about,” I say bluntly as he gets ready to argue with me. “But that thing that you said to me does nothing for me now. This is not you protecting me. This is my life getting unraveled because you are––allegedly––protecting me. All this time, it hasn’t crossed your mind to tell me that I might run into you in one of these buildings in Manhattan? And all this time, I've been applying for a job position with your firm? To work for you?? And what is your real name, by the way, Callan ? You never bothered to give me your last name. Maybe that would’ve helped.”
“Callan Bard. My name is Callan Bard.”
“Well. Congratulations, Mr. Bard, and good luck finding a new secretary. I quit.”
Just like that, I spin around and grab the doorknob. I struggle with it since I can’t figure out how to unlock it, but not for long.
He uncrosses his arms and swiftly grabs my wrist.
“Not so fast, baby girl.”
“I am not your baby girl.”
His eyes go over my outfit disapprovingly.
“I think you are. And I don’t know what kind of job you thought you’d get and who you expected to work for, but I have a big problem with that.”
He flicks his finger at my cleavage.
“Oh. Bite me,” I say, seeing right through his strategy. “If you think I’m falling for this.”
I yank myself out of his grip and turn around, making another attempt at escaping.
I almost unlock the door when he shuts it and locks it again, spins me and shoves me against the wooden plane and comes to me like a mad wolf.
“Listen to me closely…” he says quietly, one arm propped against the door, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I truly regret that this happened. I had no idea you were talking with my people… for a job. I ‘ghosted’ you because there were some things I needed to work on.”
“Like your tan,” I interrupt him, and his thumb seals my lips with firm pressure.
“This is serious, Mackenzie,” he says, and he couldn’t sound more serious even if he tried. “I wasn’t supposed to be seen anywhere near you. Not after that night.”
“Exactly. But they’ve already seen you. And who calls the shots? You are the big boss.”
His lips slightly soften and tilt into a smile, which prompts me to continue.
“This is serious, Callan. You left me. And now I’m out of a job and have no money. And you can’t be seen with me. That is my life going to hell.”
His finger presses against my lips again, his smirk vanishing.
“And you think this is your biggest problem,” he says, his voice the bearer of bad news. “You have no idea what you have gotten yourself in.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
“No, you don’t. And stop thinking you have all the answers and start learning something for a change,” he says in a silent voice.
“I’ve learned a lot, Callan. I know a lot about you.”
He slowly nods.
“Exactly. And do you think your problem lies in not being able to work for me? Things are way worse than that.”
“How?”
His eyes narrow, and a smile flickers through his lashes as if his anger dissolves in some dark pleasure.
“I can’t let you walk out of this office. You’re no longer a free woman, Mackenzie.”
My heart flips.
“What?”
“You heard that right. You know too damn much. And even if you’re loyal to me, the people who are after me have their methods to extract information from people like you.”
“What are you saying?”
“I can’t let you go,” he says, stern and firm and also downcast. “It’s either that or I’ll have to kill you. And we both know that is not the better option.”