Chapter Four
ALFIE
The timing’s too perfect for this to be a coincidence. One day we’re on the verge of fucking, and the very next Piper Beckett walks into my office?
I call bullshit. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since she left my office. If I was a wise man, I’d get rid of her. Cut the cancer and move on, before I get in too deep. She’s up to something, and she’s a damned fine actress, given how well she played our meeting off.
But it wouldn’t be wise to make a hasty decision without further investigation. My competitors have been hot on my heels for years, and getting a spy into my organization is a sure-fire way to get a step ahead of me.
Or is that just what I’m telling myself? My infatuation with Piper hits hard. For the first time in my life, I’ve found a woman that challenges a core belief of who I am. I’m intrigued and enthralled by her.
I’ve spent the better part of my day explaining to myself that a workplace relationship is all we’ve got. Piper isn’t going to be a distraction and I won’t allow her to affect my bottom line. But it hasn’t stopped me from casting glances in her direction and drinking in her stunning beauty.
A bright smile lights up her freckled face every time our eyes met. Her entire outward appearance shifted from stiff and rigid, to joyous and gleeful.
More reason to believe she’s a plant? Perhaps.
There’s only one way to know for sure. I need to follow her. I have to see how she lives and get an understanding of the woman I’ve nearly gotten into bed with – to my detriment – both literally and figuratively.
At five o’clock when the workday ends, I pack up my things and begin my hunt. It’s the first time I’ve left the office this early in over a month.
I walk to my car, and then I sit, scanning the sea of employees for Piper.
I feel foolish sitting here as if I am waiting for her.
Well, I am waiting for her. Am I really so insecure that I suspect she’s a plant?
No. Insecurity has nothing to do with this.
The longevity and success of Callahan Tech are far more important than worries about trusting my instincts.
A few minutes go by and then Piper steps out of the building. I’d been waiting so long I almost thought she’d already left, though it wouldn’t be prudent considering it’s her first day on the job. She’s talking into her phone, as she walks the driveway to her car.
It’s an old beaten-up rust bucket. A Ford, I think, but there aren’t any outward signs to confirm or deny my assumption. She takes a seat, starts the engine and drives off. I follow a few car lengths behind.
Tailing Piper leads me far away from my head office in Pasadena, into the abandoned wilderness of the mountains.
We drive for what feels like an eternity, through mountains and caverns until we arrive in a seemingly inconspicuous location.
By the time she comes to a stop, the sun has disappeared over the horizon and the sky is a grim grey.
An hour and a half commute, maybe more – I didn’t bother checking the time when we set out on this escapade.
We’ve stopped in a residential area in the Californian desert, which consists of dry, arid farms rather than houses.
Her home is surrounded by a white fence, and a large barn – dilapidated by weather and time – rises up behind her house.
The house itself, a rectangular, brown mess, is squarely in the middle.
Rusting corrugated steel structures stand in various corners of the yard.
Out front, three men are hovering by a collection of motorcycles.
Piper greets them as she passes them to go into the house.
An interesting development so far, though the more I linger outside her home, the more the notion that she’s a spy fades.
Had she been under the employ of my competitors, they’d have offered her more money than she’d care to spend.
She wouldn’t live on this dingy farm, with what I can only assume is family.
No, she’d be living in a luxurious apartment, with the best furnishings and trinkets to keep her company.
To avoid suspicion, I drive onward a few miles along the road and make a stop at a bar. My Tesla’s going to stand out in this squalor, and I don’t want to be spotted before I get what I’m here for. I fully intend to return before the night is through, but it’d be better under the cloak of darkness.
I pass the time with two beers and the company of strangers.
Not interacting with them, but listening to their stories.
From a young age onwards, I was taught to listen and observe.
The world moves on outside your bubble, and every now and then, you should stop to take it in, and let it wash over you for a while.
I don’t get more than a few chuckles from the drunks telling stories.
But at least it shaved an hour off my wait.
Once the last hint of daylight has been replaced by a pitch-black, moonless night, I return to Piper’s place. Now, I’m being driven more by the curiosity of understanding my latest hire, rather than finding dirt on her – though if I can do both at once, why not take the chance?
The coast is clear, with the three bikes turned into one and no one in the driveway. There’s a single spotlight behind the house.
I park my car on the dirt road opposite. I cross it and scale the five-foot fence, before approaching the house. From the view of the front of the house, I can see that there’s only a single light on inside. On further inspection, through a crack in the curtains, I see it’s the living room.
Three people are inside. Piper, her mother, and father – at least that’s my assumption of who the last two are.
The mother is a collection of bones connected solely by her thin layer of leathery skin.
The father is a burly man, with a potbelly and a thick, lengthy beard.
The woman is standing with a tray of food in her hands, while he sits on a lounger.
They’re sharing a family dinner, and watching some show on a TV that looks more valuable than the entire farm itself.
“Jesus, Martha, what is this shit?” His muffled words come through the window. “Fucking raw, again.” He’s loud and abrasive, and I can practically feel the fury emanating from him.
The woman doesn’t respond.
“You on it, again?” the man hisses. He stands up from his seat, with a white-knuckled fist dangling at his side.
The mother mumbles something incoherent.
Piper jumps out of her chair and gets between her parents. “I’ll fry up some steaks,” she says, clawing the tray away from her mother. “Sit, enjoy—”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before the man swings his fist into the tray, and undercooked chicken and vegetables fly across the living room. The hand that struck the tray swung incredibly close to Piper, and a forceful gust made her hair dance.
My blood instantly burns hot. If he touched her…
What would I have done? I can’t very well burst through the door and announce my presence.
I made jokes about Piper following me around, and here I am doing it to her. But can I sit by and idly watch this tyrant conquer their household?
Get out of here, Alfie. You’re in over your head on this one.
I’ve told myself enough bullshit about why I came here in the first place. If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose touch with my senses. Whatever this is, she’s working to get away from it.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know more. If she’s in danger, I have to protect her. I can’t stand idly by, knowing she might be in danger. She’s clearly something special if she’s got me breaking the very rules I live by to stay ahead.
For the time being, I’ll just keep an eye on her. See where things go, and nurture whatever fantasy this is. But, tomorrow is another day to question and query. Nothing good will come of me standing outside her home.
I walk away, but somehow it feels as if I am abandoning her, and I can’t help but wonder why that makes me feel so goddamn weak.