Cunning (Infidelity #2) (28 page)

Read Cunning (Infidelity #2) Online

Authors: Aleatha Romig

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense

BOOK: Cunning (Infidelity #2)
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Shivers tingled up my spine as I considered his other threat. “Yes.”

“That’s too bad,” he replied, releasing his hold.

“I’m sorry…”

His finger stopped my apology. “It’s done. Don’t mention it again… ever.”

I pressed my lips together, rolling them between my teeth. There was something in his demeanor that didn’t invite a reply.

Nox turned his attention to Deloris.

“Commercial or private?” she asked after a moment of unspoken dialogue.

“Private. Take care of it. First, take Alex to her apartment and the hospital. Isaac is waiting.”

I stared back and forth as Deloris simply nodded. “Wait. Now I can go? What about you?”

“Have her back before too late.” He wasn’t speaking to me.

“Nox, what the hell?”

He walked toward the bedroom, leaving us in silence.

I turned toward Deloris with questions hanging in the air.

“Come, Alex. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”

I turned on my heels and followed Nox into the bedroom.

“Alex…” Deloris’s warning trailed behind me as I opened the door he’d closed and stepped inside. He turned, our eyes locked on one another, my gold questioning and searching, while his blue cooled a few more degrees, accusing.

“Silent treatment?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Really? I never took you for the silent type.”

“Don’t,” he spoke though his jaw barely moved.

“I said I’m sorry.”

Two strides or was it three? I wasn’t sure, but from where I was near the door and where he was near the bed, he was now before me, pushing me back until my shoulders crashed against the door. I gasped, trying to steady myself, confident Deloris could hear every sound.

“I. Said. Don’t.”

“Tell me what to do,” I begged. “I don’t like having you mad.”

Securing my hands behind my back, he leaned closer, pinning me against the door. His warm breath bathed my cheeks as his nostrils flared. “Tell you what to do? I just told you to
fucking don’t
and you didn’t listen.”

Though his grip of my wrists tightened, I kept my chin high, never releasing his eyes from my gaze. The ice melted as swirls of navy displayed his whirlwind of emotion.

“I should spank your ass for pushing this.”

I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the pain in my wrists. “Do it.”

I’d take the physical pain to get him to open up, to break this wall he was building around himself.

Nox released his grip and took a step back. “What the hell did you just say?”

I daringly stepped toward him. “I said
do it
.”

He ran his hand through his hair and turned away. “Fuck, Charli. Don’t push me.”

I quickly moved in front of him, poking the proverbial stick in the beehive. “Just look at me, please.”

Is this stupid? Am I pushing someone who’d hurt his wife?

Once again our eyes met. “I’ll go to my apartment and the hospital, but first, will you at least tell me that I didn’t ruin everything? Tell me that what was happening between us, in Del Mar and beginning again on the plane… tell me it isn’t broken beyond repair.” With each phrase I stepped backward as he moved closer.

“I can’t,” he said, stopping his forward motion.

My chest ached. I would have rather had the spanking—physical pain wouldn’t hurt as much as his words. “Y-You can’t?” I repeated, hoping I’d heard him wrong.

“Trust. It’s my hard limit. I told you that I’d be honest with you on my own terms. You broke that trust by searching on your own.”

“And I’m sorry! How many ways can I say that? I’m sorry. All I know is her—”

My back collided with the wall. My gasp filled the air and the whoosh of blood coursing through my veins filled my ears. Nox’s chest expanded and contracted, and the muscles in his neck tightened.

“I told you to not mention her.” Spit escaped as his words hissed through closed teeth. “Simple instructions seem to be your downfall.”

Tears stung my eyes, not from the new pain in my shoulders but from the pain in his eyes. I should have left with Deloris. What the hell was I thinking? I was only making it worse. I lowered my chin, unable to bear his gaze, as a tear escaped my now-closed eyes.

“You…” I searched for the right words. “Do you want to break the agreement?”

I was afraid to look up. I was afraid I’d see his pain replaced with relief.

 

 

 

“DELORIS.”

I didn’t shout. I knew she was outside the bedroom door, ready to intervene, yet willing to allow me to make my own mistakes—again.

“N-Nox?” Charli’s one-word question hung in the air.

I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t stare into her golden eyes and see the hurt and disappointment. I was too busy feeling my own.

How much did she know about Jocelyn? Did she know what happened? She couldn’t. It wasn’t public knowledge. Even Jo’s family didn’t know. I didn’t owe them that, not after the way they treated her and me. Even Oren didn’t know the whole truth. Only Deloris.

“Alex,” Deloris said as she opened the door.

Taking one step back from Charli, I stood still, not making eye contact with either one of them. Instead, I turned away, my chest heaving with the too many emotions Charli elicited in me, the ones I’d refused to acknowledge in years. Thank God for Deloris. Her calm settled me. I prided myself on self-control. I rarely lost my shit, but when I did…

Once they were out of the bedroom, I walked to the bathroom. The sound of my shoes upon the tile dominated my thoughts. I closed the door and sunk to the side of the garden tub, elbows on my knees and head in my hands.

Shit! Fuck!

I thought I had my shit together. I wouldn’t have come back to the suite if I didn’t. After I dropped Charli off at the hotel, I told Isaac to take me to her apartment. I wanted to see it for myself. The entire drive my fingers were sweeping the screen of my phone, searching the Internet, typing my own name, trying to find what she’d read.

Since the night I lost Jo, I refused to do what I did earlier today. I refused to read the stories and speculations. They were out there in news articles as well as social media. Though they’d lost their steam over the years, they resurfaced from time to time. The Internet was a damn cesspool of ignorant cowards, people who only had balls when sitting behind a keyboard. Just once I’d like someone to have the guts to say to my face what they feel entitled to say via the World Wide Web.

For years I’d ignored the accusations and moved on. I concentrated on Demetri Enterprises. It was easy to disregard strangers, but her family was different. The fuckers didn’t come to her funeral; instead, they sent the police. The warrant they wanted was never issued. The Matthewses probably think I did something to stop it. The truth wasn’t that convoluted. It was simple. There wasn’t any evidence, only their pathetic lies.

If it weren’t for the ambulance-chasing attorney the Matthewses hired, it would be over, but it wasn’t. Their damn civil case was buried in so much red tape it would be at least a decade before it was ever seen by a judge.

By the time we made it to Charli and Chelsea’s apartment, I was barely seeing straight. The memories were worse than the stories: Jo’s long brown hair, the way her brown eyes sparkled when she was excited, and her continued promises that everything would be all right, that she would be safe.

Each article I read opened the damn floodgate until I was drowning.

As we stepped into the small two-bedroom apartment, my nerves were already a wreck. Seeing the little bit of furniture out of place switched my gears from Jo to Charli. Unconsciously, my hands balled into fists.

What if Charli was the one in the apartment instead of Chelsea? Was the attack because of me?

Senator Carroll wanted me to bring distribution centers to California. That wasn’t all he wanted. Since the legalization of recreational marijuana in multiple states and the medical use in many others, including California, states were seeing the benefits—monetary benefits—in the way of tax revenue. Legalized marijuana was an even bigger cash cow than alcohol and tobacco. The market was ready for this untapped resource.

While fighting the wording on House bill 770, Senator Carroll was paving the way for increased revenue. The Napa Valley had the perfect growing climate. The distribution centers he wanted would begin with wine—California wine—and be ready for the impending marijuana industry.

The opponents of legalization and distribution weren’t as transparent as the alcohol and tobacco giants who opposed the bill’s wording, though they too were invested in the fight. No, the most dangerous opponents of legalization were the people the law would affect directly, the illegal drug cartels. The loss of income would start at the top and trickle down to the everyday dealer on the street. Most were well diversified into other forms of illegal drugs, but marijuana was still a viable income producer. The war was waging in multiple states, its armies not bound by maritime rules.

Unfortunately, due to previous dealings, ones that helped to get Oren up and running over thirty years ago, the Demetris were on the radar of the largest cartels. We’d paid our dues, but with them the ledger was never closed.

Getting involved in the legalization and distribution would upset people we didn’t need to upset. My interaction with Carroll over the years made it look like I was in favor of his stance. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the attack on Chelsea was a warning. Only I doubted Chelsea was the intended victim.

With each step around their apartment, my determination to keep Charli safe battled with my need to learn who broke in, who violated the place she called home. The only furniture out of place was where the paramedic’s gurney came through to wheel Chelsea out. The tracks were still visible on the large rug in the center of the living room, as well as on the tile.

It didn’t appear as though anything else was disturbed. The boxes that I assumed contained Charli’s things lined the far wall, box after box with words labeling the contents: kitchen, bath, books. Hell, Charli had at least six boxes labeled
books
. How many books did she need?

I ran my hand over the cardboard trying to devise another reason for the break-in. In the bedroom, which I assumed to be Chelsea’s since it still looked lived in, there was a laptop on a desk and jewelry on the dresser. In the living room was a flat-screen television with a sound system and video components. If robbery was the motive, the perpetrator failed miserably.

“Tell Deloris to have this all sent to my apartment,” I told Isaac, motioning to the boxes.

“Yes, sir.”

Once Charli decided what she needed with her, we’d have the rest sent to her apartment—correction, Chelsea’s apartment.

If Chelsea agreed to the job proposal Deloris offered her this morning, she wouldn’t be spending much time in the apartment near Columbia. Getting her to New York was the first step. The second would be passing the entrance interview. If the people from Infidelity met her mother, they’d reject her, but the woman with Charli in Del Mar would pass with flying colors. The trick was not letting anyone from Infidelity know that she was a plant. Once she was accepted, Deloris would work her magic and pair her with Severus Davis.

By the time we left the apartment, my nerves were shot. Thoughts of Jo combined with worry over Charli had me all over the place. I couldn’t go back to Charli, not yet. Isaac knew what I needed—my release.

Before driving away, he removed a duffel bag from the trunk and placed it in the backseat. I didn’t need to look. Just seeing the bag made my pulse slow a beat. Since Charli came back into my life, I’d skipped my morning workouts. More accurately, I’d exchanged one workout for another. I needed the old-fashioned kind.

That was exactly what Isaac found me. It wasn’t a big gym with a million people in color-coordinated workout clothes. The place was out of Palo Alto, down side streets and out of the way, nothing more than a storefront on a deserted strip mall; however, as soon as he parked the car, I knew it was what I needed. I didn’t want to be recognized or singled out. I needed to beat the shit out of a bag until my fists ached and my body stopped moving.

Moving from the sunlit street to the dingy sweat-permeated interior, I didn’t say a word. Just inside the door was a small hallway with a tiny office to the side. I waited as Isaac spoke to the gray-haired man at the desk. The man’s leathery skin was dented with wrinkles and creases and his hair was long, tied back at the nape of his neck. Though the years appeared to have been tough on him, he still had the build of a fighter. I’d place money on the fact the man knew his way around a ring or maybe it was the street. Either way, when his dark eyes scanned me from head to toe, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

I didn’t need to say a word to refute the impression he had of me in my silk suit and Italian loafers. I was ready to let my fists do the talking. I don’t know what Isaac said to him. I didn’t give a shit. All I wanted to do was pass through the door and work off the multitude of emotions coursing through my veins.

The old man hit a button that filled the hallway with a shrill buzz as the door at the end opened. Stepping through the doorway I inhaled the scent of hard work and testosterone. This was the kind of gym that had been my home away from home when I was young. While Oren was busy building a name for himself and doing anything to get rich, I was left to my own devices. It didn’t matter how much money I had or what deals my father was brokering if I couldn’t stand up for myself.

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