20. Salinger
20
SALINGER
D read strikes, like I’m a little kid again and my father is after my mother. This time, I’m not a scrawny teenager stuck in the middle of nowhere. This time, I can handle it. “I’m coming to get you. Tell me where you are. ”
“I don’t…” The words sounded slightly muffled. “I don’t know. By Fifth and Redwood, I think?”
“Stay on the phone with me.”
“I can’t—he’ll hear me!”
The line goes dead.
I’m going to fucking kill him , whoever he is.
It’s late. Traffic is light. Fuck speeding tickets, and fuck red lights. I floor it and make it to the cross street in five minutes. I park my car and jump out, scanning the empty street for her.
I resolve to stick a tracker on her. Shit, I’m never letting her out of my sight .
I almost call her but she said she was worried about him—whoever that shit-stain was—finding her.
Is she hiding somewhere? It had sounded like she was.
I turn down a dark alleyway, on high alert. I walk slowly, my feet crunching on broken glass.
Nearby, a dog barks.
That has to be Mandy. It sounds like Pepper’s bark.
Increasing my pace, I quickly make my way down the alley, still on the lookout for anyone ready to jump out at me, in case this is a trap.
Crawford might like to think he’s the only person who can fight, but I grew up in the same compound, and we’d gotten in plenty of drop-down, drag-out fights. I am fully confident I can hold my own against whoever is after Mandy.
No one touches what is mine.
I check behind a stack of pallets. Nothing.
Across the alley is a dark loading-dock area. There is another, muffled bark.
I stand at the threshold. In a dark corner, I hear whimpering, someone shushing.
“Mandy?”
Her dirt-stained face appears from behind a dumpster.
Before I can register it, I’m by her side. With a cry, she throws herself in my arms, sobbing. I pet her hair as she shakes and sobs against me. “Mandy.” I pull her to my chest.
She burrows against me, clutching at my suit.
“Mandy—”
“I’m sorry I bothered you.” Her voice is muffled.
A warm furry weight presses against my ankle as Pepper jams herself between my feet.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she murmurs. “I don’t know why this is happening. ”
“What is happening?” My tone is harsh.
Her eyes widen in panic and fear. “Please don’t say anything mean to me.” Mandy is pleading.
I cup her face, brush away the tears streaming down.
“You can say something mean to me on Monday but not now,” she says. “I just can’t handle it right now.”
I want to kiss away her pain and her tears. “I’m not going to say anything mean to you.”
She lifts a shaking hand to her face. She must be freezing. I take off my long overcoat and drape it around her.
“It will get dirty,” she protests.
“I’ll buy a new one.” I lead her out into the rain, my arm around her. I want to carry her but need my hands free just in case.
As soon as I know she is safe, I’ll make her tell me who is doing this, who is hunting her, but not right now. “Did he hurt you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“My car’s just here. You’re all right—you’re safe now.”
She’s still shivering, her whole body shuddering as I unlock the car door and help her in, setting Pepper on her lap. The dog curls up protectively on her legs, ears back, teeth bared.
I start the car and adjust the heat so it’s blowing on her.
The car warms, but Mandy is still sobbing and whimpering in the passenger’s seat next to me.
I rest my hand briefly on her arm. Uncharacteristically kind of me, I know, but she’s just so pathetic and helpless and hurt and scared, and it’s literally driving me insane. I need her to be safe, need it like I need money and power.
“It will be all right, Mandy.”
“Thank you,” she chokes out around the sobs .
I fish a Kleenex out of the console and hand it to her.
“My car’s just a couple of blocks over.” She blows her nose with still-shaking hands.
I put the car in gear. “I’m not taking you to your car. I’m taking you home.” I work my jaw. “Why were you walking out here alone?”
More heart-tugging whimpers from her. “Uber was so expensive.”
My teeth grind. “I could have had the driver take you.”
“You were going to fire me.”
“I’m not going to fire you, Mandy.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, sweetheart, because firing you would mean I have to let you out of my sight, and that is never, ever going to happen again.”
“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t sound like she believes me.
Too bad for her, I’m already making plans.
Mandy takes a shuddering breath. “I live on 83 rd Street. No, it’s the other direction,” she adds as I turn on Canal Street, which takes us down to the waterfront.
“I’m not taking you back to whatever shithole you live in. I’m taking you home. With me.” The promise comes out before I can stop it.
“To the penthouse?”
I glance over at her. She looks confused in the dark, her eyes shimmery with tears.
“No, that’s not my home,” I say. “That’s just where I sleep during the week since it’s closer to the office.”
I swore I’d never let my emotions be controlled like this, yet here I am, taking Mandy home with me.
But there is no way I am leaving her alone .
Her shivering has subsided as the warm air blasts in the car. Pepper’s ears are flicked forward, and the dog makes horrible licking noises as she grooms her muddy paws.
When I park at the marina, Mandy peers out the window in concern.
A crew member with an umbrella opens her door.
I don’t wait for him to open my door—I need to be right next to Mandy.
“Good evening, sir,” he says.
Nodding to him and accepting an offered umbrella, I tuck Mandy against my side.
She blinks in the dark. “Wait, you live on a boat?”
I huff out a laugh before I can stop it.
“No, I don’t live on a boat. The boat takes us to my home. Additionally, the captain would prefer you call it a yacht. He’s sensitive. ‘Boat’ sounds demeaning. This yacht costs more than most people will earn in a lifetime, but I use it as a glorified gondola, so I’m already on thin ice with him.” My tone is conversational, trying to keep her from descending into a panic attack.
My hand on the curve of her waist, I help her up the gangplank, greeting the rest of the crew.
On the upper deck of the yacht, there’s hot tea waiting.
“I can’t sit on that,” Mandy protests when I try to usher her onto one of the plush cream-colored seats. “I’ll get it dirty.”
“Mandy…”
“No.” By the way her pupils are dilated, she’s in shock, fixating on something unimportant to try to claw back some semblance of control.
“Fine, sit down and drink your tea. ”
She collapses down to sit cross-legged on the polished-teak floor. Pepper curls up in her lap.
Pulling up an ottoman next to her, I sit, coaxing her to drink the hot beverage.
Mandy stares blankly out at the receding Seattle skyline through the oversized glass doors that lead to the deck.
Reaching out, I carefully, slowly, run my fingers through her tangled curls.
It’s all I can do not to demand that she tell me who is after her and spend all night in the rain looking for the man. Finding somewhere to bury him.
But she needs me with her right now.
Revenge will have to wait.
While smaller, less powerful boats would have to fight against the storm, the yacht cuts through the waves to Cascade Island.
I don’t bring anyone here except my brothers—and not the whole puppy pound, either. Fitz is out of his mind if he thought that was ever going to happen. I’ve never brought any of the women I dated here, either.
It is my sanctuary, this house, with its views to the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, the ancient forest, the vast beaches. Now Mandy is here, blearily blinking over her tea as we approach the dock.
I take the cup from her and set it on the mahogany sideboard.
She barely protests as I scoop her up in my arms. “You can’t. I’m too heavy.”
“I’m honestly insulted you think I can’t carry you.” I bring her down the stairs to the gangplank and stand on the dock at the base of the cliff. Above us is perched my extremely expensive house .
Sue me. I like nice things.
“Welcome home, sir,” Linton greets me, his eyebrows practically in his short hairline as he sets eyes on Mandy in my arms.
The rest of the staff is too well-paid to even spare Mandy a passing glance. But I met Linton, ex-British Special Forces, way back when I was in the military. He was a British liaison, and he asked me for a job a few years after he retired. Said he wanted a quiet life.
“Poor thing.” Linton tsks. “I’ll lay out clothes for her and put tea on. Herbal. She’s had a shock, it looks like. Mary?” he asks one of the workers. “Put the kettle on, love, will you?”
Mary and a few of the other staff smile at Pepper, who has lost whatever gumption she must have had in the alley and is now shocked and offended that she has to walk—in the rain, of all things. Linton follows behind the grumbling corgi, hovering over her with an umbrella.
“Your dog is spoiled,” I whisper to Mandy. The rain is only a light mist now.
“She’s an only child.” Mandy’s voice is faint.
My footing is steady as I make my way up the path to the house. It’s warm inside, and I carry Mandy into one of the spare bedrooms with a view of the forest. I set her gently on her feet.
The rain has started again, the droplets pounding against the window. Mandy’s safe inside with me, though.
“Salinger…” She sounds hesitant. “Why…”
Why, indeed?
I caress her face. “Never mind that. Just take a hot shower,” I order her. “I’ll be downstairs. ”
Later, I pace in the vast living room, ignoring its multi-level view out over the cliff to the water.
Mandy, my assistant, is in my fucking house. I brought her here.
But what could I realistically do? Leave her out there? Take her back to the shithole I was sure she lived in and spend the entire weekend worrying about her? I certainly would not to stay there with her. Her place probably has bugs and druggie neighbors. I had enough of that in my twenties.
No, she has to be here with me.
And tomorrow, when she loses that scared-rabbit look, I am going to sit her down—very calmly, mind you—and make her tell me everything she knows about who was chasing her in that alley.
“The tea for your lady friend.” Linton appears in the dark living room.
“She’s not a friend,” I reply automatically.
“Did you fish her out of the bay, then?” His British-accented voice is mildly acerbic. “Does she have a name, or was there a fish tail but now she’s lost her voice?”
I blow out a breath. “It’s my assistant. Mandy.”
“Ah.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Quite, sir.”
“Stop calling me that. You technically outrank me.”
He gives me a mock salute. “I’ll take the tea to your non-friend.”
“I’ll take it to her.”
“Don’t drop it. That’s my favorite teapot.”
“I’m sure she’ll be honored. ”
I take the ceramic tray and walk down the dimly lit hallway to Mandy’s room, my footsteps muffled on the carpet runner. “Mandy?” I try the door handle.
Locked.
“Open up,” I call again, sliding the tray on a nearby end table. “Mandy!” My fist bangs on the door. “Open up, Mandy!” Panic creeps up my spine. I kill it and fuel my fury.
“Open the goddamn door!” I bellow again, shoving my weight against the handle.
Inside, I hear her scream.
He’s here. He has to be in the room. He’s attacking her. He’s going to hurt her.
I don’t know how her attacker got onto my island—and heads will roll when I find out—but right now, I have to get to her. I have to save her.
I barely feel it as I crash my shoulder into the door again and again.
Mandy screams over the sound of splintering wood as the door gives way and I barrel into the room.
“Where is he?” I roar.
My assistant is standing in the middle of the room, clutching the towel wrapped around her and screaming her head off while Pepper, sopping wet, howls at her feet.
I grab her arm. “Are you hurt? Where did he go?”
“My towel!” she shrieks, slapping at my upper arm.
I barely feel it. I’m looking for him , wherever the little fucker is.
“You can’t just storm in here. I don’t have any clothes on.” Mandy tries to shake me loose.
“You were screaming!” I shout at her.
“Because some lunatic was trying to break down the door!” she shouts back .
My hand still on her upper arm, I crush her to my chest then survey the room—the dresser and nightstand toppled over by the door, the nest of blankets on the bed.
“Did you barricade yourself in here?”
She adjusts her towel, not looking at me.
“Don’t do that.” I make a knife hand in front of her face. “I need to be able to get to you if something goes wrong.”
“Don’t lecture me.” She bats my hand away.
Adrenaline still pounds in my veins. There’s no outlet for it. I just want to tear something apart with my bare hands.
Breathing hard, I stare in her eyes, forcing myself to calm down so she doesn’t go from angry to scared.
“Sweetheart.” I rest my forehead against hers. “Please do me a huge favor and do not scream unless someone is actually in here attacking you.”
“How was I supposed to know you weren’t dangerous?”
“I am dangerous. Don’t forget that.” I breathe the words against her damp hair.
She lets me hold her for a moment then breaks the silence. “I need to change and take Pepper out.”
“I’ll do it,” I offer.
“Dress me?”
I peer at her. “Take your useless dog out.”
“She’s not useless.”
“She’s a corgi, not a guard dog. You need a German shepherd. And a gun.”
Pepper races away from me and tries to hide under the carpet.
“Let him take you out, Pepper—you can handle it. These floors are very expensive.”
Pepper really doesn’t think she can. But I carry her away from my pristine lawn to the edge of the tree line. Then it takes me and several staff members awhile to clean her paws and dry her off.
The dog is an angry ball of fluff tucked under my arm when I return her to Mandy.
My assistant is curled up in the bed, her hair half hiding her face, wearing one of my old shirts that Linton must have had brought to the room. Pepper immediately rushes over to flop next to her.
I can’t resist. I brush back the brown curls on Mandy’s cheek.
All I want to do is crawl in next to her, wrap my arms around her, and tuck her smaller body against mine.
Except that isn’t who I am.
Instead, I stand in front of the sliding-glass doors, looking out over the dark and the rain, keeping watch, keeping her safe.