No Simple Sacrifice (Secrets of Stone Book 5) (10 page)

I could do this.

I’d be cordial and professional about informing them of my decision when—
if
—they came back to San Diego, but right now I wasn’t holding my breath. There’d been no talk of a return trip when they left.

My heart hurt as I curled onto my side and hugged my pillow closer. Hot tears slid down my cheeks as I contemplated the new truth of my world.

One of the best parts of my life was about to come to an end.

Drake

“I
t’s still going
straight to voice mail?”

My answer was the legendary pair of blue eyes belonging to my closest friend, my brother, Fletcher Ford—now rolling back into his thick skull as he slammed it against the head rest of the passenger seat of my Range Rover.

“Shit.” I shook my head in mock disgust when all I could see were the whites of his eyes. “Get it together, pussy.”

Fletch grunted. “Sure thing. I’ll do that after we pick up your new phone this afternoon, asshole.”

“I’m not the first person to ever crack a screen.”

“Because you were so pissed she wasn’t answering your calls?”

I shook my head while hitting the left turn blinker, then merging the car into Michigan Avenue traffic. “Thank fuck I backed up all of our texts to the cloud last night.”

Fletch coughed. “Now who’s the pussy?”

I let him get away with it—mostly because it was true. We were a
pair
of goddamn pussies. Smitten, stupid, lovesick idiots. It sucked.
This
sucked. I illustrated it by white-knuckling the steering wheel and letting out a long growl. “What the
hell
is going on with her?”

“And why?” Fletcher rejoined. “Why the
hell
is she doing this to us? That sex was fucking amazing.” He trailed off, but then added, “If I must say so.”

“And as usual, you must.”

“You know it was, dick, so shut up.” He thudded a fist against the elbow rest, as twitchy as I was. It had been our constant state for the last three days. “Something about that woman makes me even fuck better.”
Thud thud thud.
“Dammit. She makes me want to do everything better.”

“For her.”

“Exactly.”

“
With
her.”

“
There’s
the obvious.”

“What’s
not
obvious is the repeated blow-offs.” My own vexation dropped the words into my lower registers. It was either that or throw my fist through the windshield. “Fuck me. I thought we’d moved past this shit. I’ll be glad to tie that girl back down to prove the point again.”

We sat in silence, waiting for the light at Erie to change. As it did, Fletch ventured, “Maybe she’s actually busy.”

“To even answer a phone call or text?” I debated.

He answered with a guttural sound I attributed to frustration or indigestion. Either one wasn’t going to get us to the bottom of why Talia had taken “kiss-off” to a brand-new level since we’d left San Diego. Tying her down really might actually be the magic weapon here—a task I’d be gleefully up for, in more ways than one.

I swung the car into SGC’s parking garage. The tires chirped against the cement before I braked into one of the spaces marked
Board Members Only.
A quick glance at my watch assured we’d walk into the board meeting right on time, if the express elevator was good to us.

Five steps into the dash, I wheeled up short. Cocked a puzzled stare back over my shoulder. “Fletch.” I snapped it at the dumb shit who hadn’t moved out of the truck. “What the hell are you doing? We’re going to be late if—”

“When was the last time one of these things started on time? Especially since the CEO went into paranoid daddy-to-be mode?”

Couldn’t argue his validity, so I didn’t. Instead I reiterated, “What are you up to?”

He didn’t break rhythm on scrolling through his phone. “Looking at her calendar.”

“You have
her
calendar on
your
phone? When did she give you that?”

“Who said she gave it to me?” He mumbled his question-answer, another trademarked Fletcher Ford-ism, without looking up. “She’s wide open for the next hour and a half. There’s no reason I should be going to her voice mail.”

The revelation wasn’t surprising—but hearing him vocalize it was a jolt I hadn’t anticipated. Maybe I’d wanted to believe she was just too busy, as well. The deliberate radio silence was answered by chaos through my gut.

I pushed back against the car, shooting a hard scowl across the garage. “Maybe we need to head back west once the meeting’s done.”

“Let’s see how the day goes.” Fletcher’s shoulders slumped while he speared a hand through the hair that still needed cutting. “I want to be back in San Diego as badly as you, but I’ve had a ton of shit thrown my way at the office. Joel is an amazing director, and the rest of the team is solid, but no one likes it when the boss is away.”

“I hear you man,” I muttered. “Getting the same side-eye bullshit in my backyard.”

He swung out of the truck, shouldering his briefcase. I readjusted mine before we crossed the garage and bounded up the stairs to Stone Global Corporation’s massive glass lobby. We’d served on SGC’s board of directors for the past five years, since becoming close friends with Killian Stone in a water polo league at our club up the street. Since then, he’d brought us on as industry peers, made us endure the months he was ousted by his shithead brother then returned to the helm, only to move himself to California, opening the west coast arm of the company and living happily ever after with his soulmate.

Fletch and I had razzed Kil without mercy for upending his life over a woman—only to receive our mighty payback in the miles
we
now logged back and forth across the country for the very same reason. What was it about the women in Southern California? I had yet to put my finger on it but sure as hell understood that foggy look Kil got every time he was in Chi-town, and had left Claire back in SoCal. This ache for Talia was the exact same kind of haze, clinging worse than summer humidity, though it felt like the sun didn’t quite make it through the clouds when we were apart.

I didn’t want to continue living this way.

With every day that passed, I was more and more sure of it.

Something had to change. Fletcher and I would either have to follow Kil’s lead and make the same lifestyle leap, or somehow convince Talia to come to the windy city. Fat fucking chance. Practically everyone in that platoon she called relatives was in San Diego. She was as close to them, if not closer, than I was to my family. But for that woman, I would do anything.

Anything
.

The thought brought on a heavier daze as we rushed into the express lift for the penthouse. Fletcher pressed the sole button inside, and the elevator sped us up to the boardroom.

“Hope Old Man McGraw isn’t here today,” Fletcher groused during the ride. “Man’s a damn wind bag.”

“He’s wise.” I tried to be diplomatic.

“He’s a fucking know-it-all who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“Now
that’s
eloquent.”

“More like honest.”

“Or a bout of PMS.”

Instead of a comeback, he snickered. “
There
he is.”

“He who?”

“He
you
.” A quick glance revealed his twisted lips. He added a quick shrug. “There’ve been a few more boulders to your stony silence since we got out of the truck.”

“Probably.” I didn’t push at his own weighted silence, conveying so many things we didn’t need to say out loud. “Dammit, Talia,” I finally uttered. Nothing but a hard sigh from Fletch—again saying all that needed to be said. He was as wrapped up in her as I was. We were in a weird spot and I was getting fucking restless. As the lift slowed, I spat, “Something has to give here, brother. I’m serious.”

“I know.” Fletcher stopped in the middle of the hall, faking cordial smiles at a couple of assistants who walked past, then giggled. They were leggy and graceful in their nearly matching suits, the kind of bait we once would’ve chomped hard on. Now, it was an effort just to be polite with them. “But she’s holding all the cards,” he stated as soon as they were gone.

“Hmmph.” Now
I
sounded like Old Man McGraw—and didn’t care. “We’ll see for how long.”

Fletch jammed his hands into his pockets. Stabbed a foot at the carpet. “I’m so out of my element, man.”

“Yeah.” I emulated his pose. “Me too. I,”—there was no other way to say it—“well, I haven’t been in love in a long time. Considering how
this
shit feels, possibly never.”

“Hearing
that
.” He lifted one hand, again messing his hair, demonstrating how much he didn’t want it to be true.

“But I can’t keep getting yanked around, you know? She’s going to have to play her hand, or get out of the game.”

His fidgeting froze. His stare narrowed, turning just as icy. “An ultimatum, dude? Already?” But once the words were out, panic gripped every inch of his face.

I flung back as good as I got—at least in the fury department. “How long do you want to keep doing this? I barely slept last night—again. I never want to eat. Screw working out. I can’t stay focused on my fucking business. So…yeah. Already.”

He fell back against the wall, stabbing the other hand through his hair—though now with telling silence. There was nothing more to argue and he knew it. And fuck, how I wished I didn’t. We were both used to running the show when it came to women—and right now, we weren’t. We were in a goddamn dinghy with one oar. Nothing but circles.

“You really need a haircut.” Time to change the subject.

“She said that too.” Yup. Circles.

“You told her you had an appointment.”

“I do. Early tomorrow morning.”

“Well let’s go get this done and then try to work out a plan.”

“Deal.” We started walking toward the boardroom again but only got a few feet before an all-too-familiar voice yanked us up short from behind.

“Well,
there
you two are.”

Too familiar. And too unwelcome.

She stepped between us, subtly swaying her hips to catch our attention. I noticed, but only in the way a dog noticed a flea. I could only remotely care. The curvy blonde with the blouse opened nearly to her navel had a name, but my brain could only generate one word for her.
Pathetic.
I stood by, hoping Fletch would see to the bail-out duties.

“Hey, Melissa.”

Saved.

I owed him. He cocked a brow, conveying he knew it too.

“Fletcher.” She nodded coyly his way. Then, dammit, mine. “Drake, my dear. Well, didn’t I grab the brass ring, hmmm? I was
so
hoping I’d see you two when I heard there was a board meeting today.”

“Really?” he countered, cold as ice. “Why so? Are you going to tell me I need a haircut too?” The bastard finished with the grin that had melted panties from coast to coast—though the clench of his jaw behind it was discernible. Not that Melissa was up for noticing anything but the goods below his face.

“Well, I just came back from my lunch break,” she explained, “and I spent it having a very—oh, how do I put this?—
informative
phone catch-up with Taylor Matthews, from the San Diego office. You know the sales girl I mean? Cute little southern thing?”

She tilted her head to the side, much like a puppy begging for a throw of the tennis ball. That was better than a flea, I guessed—though her revelation was responsible for a new stab of surprise.

“She’s Talia’s friend?” I looked past Melissa, seeking confirmation from Fletcher. He jerked a quick nod while she prattled on.

“She certainly is…confirming my timing may be quite fortunate for us all.”

“I’m not following.” Wasn’t a lie. Nor was my impatient undertone. Her tap dance made me as antsy as Fletch now. Normally, picking up women—or even letting
them
pick
us
up—was a flawless effort, a routine he and I had down cold. We’d barely had to work at it anymore—which, if I were being brutally honest, had begun to feel like a stale party game.

Nothing about Talia Perizkova was a game.

All I had to do was glance again at Fletcher to know he was completely on board with the feeling—making this woman’s cat-and-mouse just one big ball of irksome.

“I’m with Mr. Newland.” The surname wasn’t a glitch—nor was Fletch’s sudden “attack” of formality. “I’m not following, either.” He looked at his phone for the time instead of the Tag on his wrist, using the excuse to check for return calls or texts from Talia. “And I’m afraid we don’t have time for deciphering games right now, Melissa. They’re expecting us inside, so what exactly can we help you with?”

Before he was finished, I knew the authoritative tone would only fuel the woman’s rockets. “How ‘exact’ do you want me to get?” she purred, sliding a hand down his tie. “You mean like wondering how this pattern would look imprinted on my wrists tomorrow morning?”

Hell.

I checked my own phone now, glancing at him with one message only.
Better you than me, man.

Inside two seconds, he’d stepped back from her—as if just touching her to push her away was too much to ask. “Find the brake pedal now, please. We’re going to spare you the discomfort while we can. We’re in a relationship with someone now, and it’s pretty serious.”

She assessed him with saucy swagger. “Well, that’s not what I just heard.”

Screw the swagger. She was outright triumphant, a conquering princess with a secret, and damn proud of it.

Fletcher and I responded with numb stares.

What the hell
?

He recovered before me—probably a very good thing. Though more gregarious than me, his temper always ran a lighter shade than mine—and his patience for petty girl talk, much deeper. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he practically drawled. “What, exactly
did
you hear?”

She inhaled dramatically. I was shocked a Georgina-of-the-jungle chest thump didn’t follow. “
Well.
Taylor told me, that Talia told her that you guys aren’t together at all. She said it was just a fling. A One Night in Vegas, and that was it.”

“‘She said’.” I bit out the reiteration, back teeth grinding. I sucked to royal proportion at female code. “So…Taylor said that or Talia said that?”