A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2) (13 page)

“
D
rew
, you’re nuts.” It’s nighttime, right before 8 p.m., and Paulson’s at the perimeter of The Grove, arguing with me at the shore. Because I know every nook and cranny of the estate’s grounds, it’s easy to bypass four men at various stations.

Not so easy to get past Mark.

“Don’t put me in this position, Foster. Lindsay didn’t ask for you. In fact, she’s been badmouthing you to everyone she sees.” His eyes are hard, but they also plead with me.

Back down
, they say.

My eyes transmit a two-word message to him, too.

They’re not the same words. Mine start with F and Y.

“That’s part of some scheme of hers. C’mon, Mark. It’s obvious. She’s creating fake distance between us.” Not a shred of worry inside me. I know her ruse.

“I don’t know what’s obvious anymore, Drew.” He sighs, the sound loud and frustrated. “I had no desire to be head of security for a presidential candidate’s daughter when I said yes to you last month. This is madness. I should be home kicking back beers and being with Carrie.”

“You can always quit.”

He makes a sound of disgust. It happens to be the sound of loyalty, too.

“Like that’s going to happen. You fished my girlfriend out of an underground bunker using old sewer pipes before she could have her limbs removed by a crazed drug lord with an amputee fetish. That’s the definition of owing you.”

“When you put it that way...yeah. You absolutely owe me.”

His mouth goes tight.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down.

“If I let you in, not only will Harry fire me, he’ll remove the company from covering Lindsay. Your time’s limited anyhow. Secret Service is stepping in more and more. They’re harder to evade.”

“Right.” I know I have a narrow window of time. “I just need to see her tonight. That’s it. I’ll be done after this.”

His sharp look doesn’t faze me. “That’s it?”

I feign innocence.

“That’s it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want. I don’t care. I do care whether you trust me.”

“I trust you to do something stupid.”

“That’s a start.”

His voice goes cold with anger, teeth clenched, arms flexing as our friendship gets overridden by his sense of duty.

“I’m not fucking around, Drew. Your presence compromises her. Those guys are after
you
as much as they are after her. You’re literally luring them to her. What are you thinking?” You would think his anger would upset me, but just the opposite happens. I’m pleased. When he’s this protective of Lindsay, I know he’s vigilant. I know that anyone who tries to hurt her will have to go through Paulson, too.

“They texted me today.”

He closes his eyes, then runs a hand over the back of his neck, tension bleeding off him. “Of course they did. What’d they say?”

“‘
Don’t play if you can’t win
’,” I recite, the words like burrs on my tongue.

“Assholes. That’s just a taunt.”

“And a promise.”

“A promise of what?”

“That they’ll follow through. I have to talk to Lindsay. I think I know what’s about to happen next and I need to warn her.”

“Care to share with her head of security? Not that you’re exactly forthcoming with important information.” He is pissed. The double meaning is clear.

He
knows
. He knows about that video.

I don’t care, actually.

Part of the truth is all he needs.

I ignore the barb. Can’t deal with it. “They’re going to invent some charitable cause for her. She’ll be sent to work with the homeless in Haiti, or with a literacy program in Appalachia, or to restore hurricane damage in Guatemala. Whatever the story, it’ll be designed to get her out of the limelight and for all the attention to die down.” I say this with impatience, and Mark crosses his arms over his chest like he has all the time in the world.

He knows I’m in a rush.

“You’re the focus of attention on the news so far, Drew. Not her. And her attackers are tormenting you now, too. Exposing you.”

Ignore ignore ignore.

“But it taints Harry by default.” I barrel on. “The media’s being nice to her today, but give it two or three more days and the worm will turn. And getting her out of sight means she’ll have less security. Any company other than mine that handles her security can be compromised. Probably already has.”

“You think Blaine, John and Stellan have that much power?”

“Not them, no. But the puppetmaster behind them? Yes. We need to figure out who’s controlling them. That should be the number one mission, aside from protecting Lindsay. Harry’s too wrapped up in his campaign and getting bad advice to realize it.”

Mark looks at the house, the moonlight bouncing off the gentle waves, illuminating the windows facing the ocean. He’s a man with two opposing duties. Loyalty to me. A promise to Harry.

Which one does he break?

Mark’s phone goes off. He looks at a text.

“Lindsay’s insisting on being driven to her friend Jane’s house in two hours.” His fingers fly on the glass screen, then he taps with finality and catches my eye. “Don’t even think about following her.”

Two hours. I have two hours, then.

“You’re not my commanding officer, Paulson.”

“And I’m not your employee anymore, Foster.”

“We’re at a standoff, then. And you know how standoffs work. Motivation always wins.”

“Motivation often kills, too.”

“I need to talk to her, Mark. She’s at risk. ” Appealing to reason generally works with him.

He’s on his phone again, his face screwed up into an intense grimace. “You can’t get caught. Lindsay isn’t just a senator’s daughter now. She’s about to be under Secret Service protection as a presidential candidate’s family member. You know the difference.”

“Which is why I have to talk to her
now
.”

Urgency and patience don’t go together well, but somehow I manage to harness both in this conversation.

“You know where Jane lives?”

“Apartment downtown, on the water. Yeah.”

“No,” he corrects me. “That’s her mom’s place. Jane’s in some middle-rent apartment complex by the I-5.” He gives me an address. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“You also didn’t give me two hours.”

“Didn’t do that, either.” He looks pointedly near a cluster of bushes at the edge of shore. I see a suspicious blonde ponytail poke up among the greenery.

“This conversation never happened.” I mouth the words
Thank you
.

“
You
never happened.”

And with that, one of my best friends walks away, leaving me by the ocean. I have a new mission.

I don’t exist.

“Drew?”

Maybe I do.

Her voice is tentative, so hesitant it’s like she’s peeling my skin off, one strip at a time.

“Drew. I saw the video. Oh, God, Drew.”

E
ver walk on stilts
? That’s how it feels as I make my way across the sand toward the cluster of shoreline brush that dots the beach. The carefully landscaped grounds of The Grove have to give way to untamed nature at some point.

That line is here.

Right between our bodies.

There’s no moon tonight, just a cloudy grey sky that doesn’t leave witnesses. No one can see us unless they’re trying. I get the feeling Mark’s given the rest of the team explicit orders to give us space. I also know my time is limited.

Whatever’s about to happen needs to be swift.

Bold.

Complete.

I don’t say anything as I stop a few feet from her, waiting. None of this is within my authority. Lindsay calls all the shots.

“I saw.” The wind picks up her words and carries them out over the ocean, the words licked by salt water, diffused into the enormity, made part of the water and sent to parts unknown, where dragons live.

“You did.” I don’t ask.

“I saw enough. I didn’t need to watch the whole thing – oh, Drew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

And there it is. Four years of anticipating that question.

And it’s happening now.

I open my mouth to answer and nothing comes out. I widen my eyes to see her better and my vision pinpricks. I flex my hands to reach for her and I freeze.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t because four years ago, I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch.

And for the last four years all I’ve done is acted.

But I’ve acted alone.

“Don’t answer that,” she says quickly, berating herself. Not me.

“I – you – you deserve an answer, Lindsay.”

“I deserve more than an answer.”

My heart stops, waiting in my chest for orders.

“Drew, we deserve so much more. Who knew? I didn’t. You really couldn’t stop them. Worse – they made you watch. And then they hurt you, too.” She laughs. It’s the sound of chimes on the wind, the sweet release of relief, the mellifluous tone of someone who has given herself permission to feel whatever she wants.

It’s the sound of fresh rain and old love.

It’s the sound of hope.

I brace myself for the inevitable. Salma warned me that Lindsay might ask too much of me. Might try to extract more than I could give. I always said I could handle whatever she threw at me.

Salma’s wise.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my mouth numb.

“Don’t ever say that again. Now that I know the truth.”

Now that I know the truth.

“Don’t you see?” She’s smiling.
Smiling.
Why the fuck is she laughing and smiling? Anger and seething I expect.

Not this.

Not
ever
this.

“See what?”

“You, Drew.
You
make sense to me.” Her palm flattens over her heart, fingers tickling the base of her throat. “That was the hardest part about what happened to me. The fact that I couldn’t reconcile the man I knew with the man who acted the way you did. You weren’t the same person. But now I understand.” Shallow breaths turn deep as her chest rises and falls, the sound of her inhales and exhales mimicking the ocean behind her.

Her eyes are my moon and stars. “I am so, so sorry for what they did to you.” Even without moonlight, I can see the shine of tears pooling in her eyes. “But knowing the whole truth makes me so relieved.”

Relieved?

“And pissed.”

That’s more like it.

“We’re – you’re – I -- ” A ragged breath turns Lindsay raw and real as a breeze blows her hair across her face, the stray strands not tied up in her pony tail catching in her mouth, shading her eyes for a moment. “For four years I felt like this damaged little thing. The fucked up little girl who no one trusted. Because I – because you didn’t care.”

“Lindsay.” Her name is a vow coming out of my heart, into my throat. “That’s not true.”

“I know it’s not. I
know
,” she whispers intensely, stepping toward me, closing the gap. “I know. And this sounds so awful – so wretched – but I have to say it. And if you hate me for it for the rest of my life, then I’m sorry, Drew.”

“Say it.” I brace myself.

“I -- ” She hesitates, swallowing hard, the night air stifling, smashing me into myself, turning me inward.

I reach out and rest my fingertips on her elbows. “Say it,” I whisper, destroyed by touching her, feeling unworthy.

“Now we’re equals,” she says, chin up, eyes blazing.

“Equals?” I choke out. Not what I expected to hear.

“I’m not the only one they hurt. We have a bond that is deeper than I ever imagined. We’re linked in ways that are unfathomable,” she explains, tilting her head as she studies my reaction.

A loud puff of air pours out of me. I’ve been holding my breath.

“This isn’t how I want to be bonded to you. Not from shared pain.”

“It’s not my choice, either. But it happened. It’s there. It will always be there, and those assholes are blind to what they
really
did to us.”

“Blind to what?”

“To the fact that they thought they were taking our power away.” A look of marvel washes over her face. “Don’t you see, Drew? If I could go back four years ago, I’d stop what happened.”

“So would I! In a fucking heartbeat.” As if on cue, my heart smacks up against my ribs like it’s trying to escape and go backwards in time to fight.

“But we can’t.”

I grab her arms, hard, as if I’m pulling the kernel of what she’s saying out of her. I don’t understand her words. This is the most honest conversation I’ve ever had with a person, and I can’t believe it. “Why are you saying all this, Lindsay? I failed you.
I failed you
.”

“No.
They
failed me. They failed humanity. You’re human, Drew. You
couldn’t
stop them. I spent all those years thinking you wouldn’t stop them, but you
couldn’t
.”

“I can now. I
will
now.”

“Yes. We can now.
We
. Us. Together. We’re stronger together than we ever were apart. That’s the secret, Drew. This is who we are now.” Her hand reaches for my heart, pressing. “They thought they were isolating us, taking away our power. But we’re more than that. And I’m not alone.”

I grab her hand and hold it like it’s the key to every mystery in the world. “You were never alone. Not in here.” I push her hand against my chest.

“I wanted to believe that. Even when every piece of evidence showed the opposite, I couldn’t let go of loving you.”

“Thank you.” My stomach unclenches. She slides her hands to my waist and pulls in for an embrace.

“You’re shaking,” she mutters into my shirt.

I ignore the comment. She’s not wrong. “When did you become so wise?” I ask.

“Not wise.”

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to hide what they did to me? Especially from you?” I expect her to look at me, but she stays in my arms.

Thank God.

“You never had to. You never have to hide who you are from me, Drew.”

“What they did to us isn’t who we are, Lindsay.”

She nods, the movement warm and sweet.

“Suddenly, revenge feels more immediate,” she mutters into my chest. “More possible. But for different reasons and with different goals.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, pretty sure I know the answer. My body is still on edge from this entire, surreal conversation. Lindsay knows the whole truth now. All of it.

And she’s relieved? She feels
closer
to me? I’m
not
rejected?

I don’t know what to feel. So much of the last four years has been about preparing myself for the chance at redemption. Too much energy has been focused on hiding what happened to me. My biggest fears haven’t come true.

Aside from being set up by Stellan, Blaine and John in the media, getting fired by Harry, and having them use hackers to make it look like I’m a deranged stalker, the day’s going damn well.

“I trust you completely. Wholly. And that means we can work together,” she says. Her grip on me tightens. Her heart skitters against my ribs, and one hand slides down my back, resting at the base of my spine. She’s warm and soft, and the way she sinks into me is comforting.

The body cannot lie.

“You said you had a plan for revenge,” I venture, rubbing her back, breathing slowly against her. All the adrenaline that coursed through me minutes ago like rain in a drought starts to recede, replaced by a protective streak that’s bigger than before, if that’s possible.

She loves me.

In spite of what she knows, she
trusts
me.

No. Scratch that.

Because
she knows the truth, she trusts me even more.

“I do.” She chuckles. “It involves video.”

I tense. “More video...of me?”

“No. Me.”

I frown and pull back, holding her at arm’s length. “Explain. I don’t want
more
video of you anywhere, Lindsay.”

“What if I told you my darknet hacker friend got their hands on a video of that night, where they – where Stellan and – where...” She clears her throat and squares her shoulders. “Where they aren’t wearing masks?”

“That video exists?” I’m skeptical. “You’ve seen it?”

“Yes.” The evil grin that spreads across her face makes my insides ripple. It’s not a smile.

It’s a vow.

“I don’t want another video of them attacking you to become public. Not even if it means taking them down.”

“You will when you see this one.”

“Damn it, Lindsay, I don’t want to see it, and I don’t want anyone else to, either!” I shout, ready to explode.

“It’s proof, Drew.” As her voice drops, she sounds exactly like her mother. Cunning, sharp, and in for the kill. “
Proof
. We’ll destroy them. It’s what I’ve wanted.”

“What
we’ve
wanted,” I say reluctantly. Although it’s true, I hate the idea that she has to face media scrutiny again.

Has to be exposed like that.

“There’s something else,” she says, watching me. Her eyes narrow. “What is it? What are you worried about?”

“If you spread that video, they’ll spread mine.” The truth makes my stomach roil.

“Who says they haven’t already?”

I close my eyes, the truth of her question turning my mind into a blank wall, a white canvas, a black hole.

A rustling sound, louder than the wind on leaves, catches my attention. Instinct draws my hand to my weapon, which I’m not wearing. Lindsay halts. I press one finger to my lips and urge her with my hands, carefully guiding us both into a crouch, shoulders hunched. Who’s out there? Gentian? One of Harry’s Secret Service guys?

“Harry, I don’t understand why we need to be on the beach. This godforsaken wind does so much damage to my skin. You know that!”

Monica.

“Is that my mom?” Lindsay whispers, horrified. “What is she doing outside? She hates walking on sand.”

Given that the Bosworths have lived in this oceanfront estate for all of Lindsay’s life, the contradiction makes no sense.

Then again, when you understand Monica’s all about appearances, it fits.

“We need privacy, Monica.” Harry’s hand slips around her waist, the gesture intimate. Lindsay stops moving, staring at the sight with a gentle interest that breaks my heart. Harry and Monica have always struck me as a political couple, their marriage a business arrangement.

The idea that there’s any love between them – other than the love of power – is surprising.

Monica rests her head on Harry’s shoulder and laughs. “Oh, you. Mr. President.”

“Not yet.” Harry’s low voice carries on the wind. Lindsay’s watching him with rapt attention, her eyes bouncing from her mother to her father. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

I have to close my eyes and fight the memory of my own parents, so different. Mom and Dad loved each other with a public reverence I found annoying as a teen.

When I look at Lindsay, I feel the same intensity my parents had for each other.

“Can’t be any longer than the road we’ve already traveled, Harry. We have to spin this Drew mess,” Monica says.

Lindsay cuts away to me, mouthing
Drew mess?

I shrug. I stroke her arm as she leans into me, her warmth calming. Soothing. I’m still ten thousand live wires on the inside, though the current’s turned down. Too much input. I need time to process everything, and hour by hour my situation worsens.

Lindsay smiles at me.

Or not.

“I’ve taken care of it,” Harry replies.

“Nolan Corning is three steps ahead of you, Harry. He’ll use Drew against us.”

Nolan Corning. There’s that damn name again.

“Let him try. Drew’s being targeted. It’s all a witch hunt. I had to fire him, but I won’t throw him under a bus.”

“Why not?” Monica asks. Lindsay’s amusement drains out of her face, lips tight.

“Oh, please, Monica. You’re not a stupid woman. It’s plain he’s in love with Lindsay and she loves him back.”

“What does Lindsay know about love, Harry? When did you become so soft?” Her tone is chiding, feminine and alluring. “I’m worried she’ll get hurt again.” Monica’s voice carries a self-righteous note. “He hurt her so much, Harry. I can’t bear to watch that again.”

Lindsay looks like she’s ready to unleash claws on her mother. Or hug her. Could go either way. Shock ripples through her face as Monica’s words of concern for Lindsay sink in.

“I made a terrible mistake last week, Monica. I have to unendorse Blaine.”

“What? Why? You can’t be viewed as a waffler. That’s political suicide.”

“Not waffling. Just...remember that briefing on the incident? About who the men in the masks were?”

Monica goes quiet.

“Yes,” she finally says, her voice filled with skepticism.

“I have confirmation it’s true.”

A sharp intake of breath ends with a breathy squeal of outrage. “That little shit! Blaine really was in on it? Nolan never said a word.”

Nolan? What the hell is going on here? Why does Harry’s party rival continue to come up?

Lindsay makes a snorting sound. Monica and Harry turn.

“We can’t let them see us,” I hiss, pulling her closer. Lindsay loses her footing and crashes sideways into a big batch of ground brush, squealing slightly as her leg disappears in the greenery.