The Confession (27 page)

J
essica Rowe, once secretary to one of the most famous men in the country, looked like hell. The jeans she wore didn't match her normally flawless business attire, and her peach sleeveless button-up hung loosely on her shoulders. Even her hair, usually shaped into a perfect bob, was stuffed back in a ragged ponytail.

She was sitting in a booth in the corner, the only spot in the restaurant that had a full view of the entire seating area. Despite this position, she didn't look up as I crossed the floor to her. Her eyes were downcast, staring at the fork she turned over and over in her fingers.

“Mind if I sit here?” I didn't wait for her to respond. I plopped down on one side of the booth, keeping close enough to the edge that I could stand if she tried to scoot out the other side.

Her eyes shot up to mine, and her face went even paler. Without makeup she looked a little older than I remembered. Maybe in her midforties.

“Long time, no see,” I said.

“What are you doing here?” She glanced around the restaurant, as if expecting a full battalion to come marching through the doors. It was a good thing I'd left the guys outside.

“I'm looking for you.” There was no point lying. She'd know the truth soon enough.

She started to move to the other side of the booth, snatching the small leather satchel sitting beside her.

“Please stay,” I said. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I'm sure.” She reached a hand into her bag, and I caught a glimpse of the telltale yellow and black handle. It belonged to a weapon my father had trained me on when I was fourteen.

“Seriously?” I asked. “You're going to Tase me in the middle of a Denny's?”

Her shoulder jerked. “If I have to.”

“You don't have to be afraid,” I said. “I'm here with Alec Flynn. The FBI doesn't know, neither do the police.”

She slowly withdrew her hand from her purse and leaned forward over the table. “What do you want?”

I thought of the first time I'd met Jacob, how I'd had to coax him with tacos to trust me, and even then it was hard earned.

“I want to help you.”

“No offense, Ms. Rossi, but you live off tips. I don't exactly think you're in position to help me.”

“We need to put Maxim Stein away for good.”

She scoffed.

“I know you're afraid,” I said quickly, realizing I was going to lose her if I didn't move fast. “That's why you're running. I'm scared, too. He came after me—he had his nephew Bobby kidnap me. He wanted me gone, just like he wanted Charlotte MacAfee gone.”

She leaned back, brows flat.

“You knew about that,” I realized, trying to harness my sudden fury. No wonder she was running. She knew a lot of things she shouldn't have.

“He had Alec stabbed in prison,” I said.

Panic brightened her hard eyes.

“Quiet,” she said. “Stop talking. You need to leave.”

A waitress approached the table with a smile as big as a watermelon.

“Eggs over medium,” she said. “Rye toast. What can I get you, honey?”

I lifted my hand. Smiled. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

Jessica didn't touch her food. The waitress walked away, hips swishing from side to side.

“When Alec agreed to testify, the FBI protected him,” I said. “They can protect you, too. That's why they're looking for you.”

She laughed now. She laughed so loudly the people at the next table turned around and stared at us. It was a cold, cynical sound that chilled me right to the bone.

“Are you
that
dense?” she asked. “The FBI can't protect me. If Max wants me, not even God himself can help me.”

I clasped my hands in my lap, losing the resolve I'd had when I walked through the door.

“If you put him away, he can't hurt you,” I said. It hadn't been that long ago I'd told this very same thing to Alec. Maxim had seriously screwed these people up.

“Oh, he can,” she said, almost to herself. She looked up at me. “He'll find a way. He has money. Money buys men who will do all kinds of unspeakable things. Money
makes
good men do unspeakable things.” She trailed off, staring at the fork still in her hands.

“Men like Jeremiah Barlow?” I focused on the tremble in her lip, trying to block the black star tattoo from invading my vision.

“You know him, don't you?” I pressed. Again, a bolt of rage slashed through me. Maybe she was just another victim, manipulated by Maxim Stein, but the fact that she'd known Barlow, possibly before he'd come after both Alec and me, made me want to throw down with her right in the middle of this Denny's.

Her face grew pale.

“I know his name,” she said, and immediately looked away.

“What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Just that he's asked Mr. Stein for money over the years. For what, I don't know, but I always get the cash for him.”

Stein had done a lot of deals in cash, from the sounds of it. Alec had said he'd paid Jessica cash bonuses on top of her salary.

“Where do you send it?” I asked.

“I don't. Mr. Stein delivers it personally.”

Why would Stein be paying off Jeremiah Barlow? Was he another hit man, like Jack Reznik? Someone to do Stein's dirty work when Alec wouldn't? I wanted to press her for more, but I could feel her disengaging again. Her eyes kept darting toward the door.

“You know more than that,” I said, my voice growing hard. This man had drugged me. Disrespected my body. Used me like a rag doll.

“I . . .”

“Tell me,” I said. “Or I swear to God, I'll call the police right now and tell them you knew Bobby was going to try to kill me and did nothing.”

It might have been Florida, but the air inside that restaurant turned bitterly cold.

“He's Max's son,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Max doesn't have a son.” That's why he'd named his nephew, Robert Calloway, to take over his company. Alec had told me this before. It was possible, of course, that there were children—Maxim certainly had been promiscuous. But it seemed unlikely that Alec wouldn't have known about it.

“He was married at the time. His wife didn't know.”

I pictured the man with the black star on his neck next to Maxim Stein. It was like holding a rock next to a diamond. But the more I thought about it, the more I could see the similarities. Their faces were alike—prominent chins, thick brows, a challenging stare. They were both short, and from the brief bits I remembered of Jeremiah, overconfident.

“Are they still in contact?” If we could find Jeremiah, maybe we could nail Maxim for my abduction.

“I don't know,” she said. “If you recall, it's been months since I've been in Mr. Stein's employ.”

I watched her squirm, and wondered what Alec would make of this new information. I was anxious to get back outside and tell him.

“Mr. Stein will hurt you for turning against him,” I said. “Like you said, he has the funds to do whatever he wants. But take away his money, and you take away his power. Without that, he's nothing.”

She bit her thumbnail. “Even if I'm safe from him, they'll still send me to jail.”

I felt her fear then, and how it had seeped over any hope for the future. There was no winning for her. Maxim Stein would make her disappear, and even if the feds kept her safe, she'd probably still serve time.

I thought of how she'd known that her boss wanted me dead. How many other lives had he ruined while she'd sat by in silence? She deserved to be punished, just not by Maxim Stein.

I wanted to grab her and shake her. This wasn't just about her. She was holding Alec's life in her hands, and mine, too.

“The FBI reduced Alec's sentence in exchange for his testimony,” I said. “I'm sure they can work something out for you.”

The seconds ticked by.

Please,
I begged her in my head.
Please see reason.

“I have nowhere else to go,” she murmured.

“Yes, you do,” I said. “You can come with me.”

*   *   *

Janelle and Matt made it to St. Augustine before sundown. They took Jessica to a different hotel, and got us a room down the hall. My dad left soon after we'd settled in. Alec may not have had a chance to discuss our relationship with him, but he had told him about Jeremiah Barlow, and my father was keen to get back to his contacts at the Tampa PD and see what had come of the search.

Alec and Jessica were kept separate, and while he reviewed some safety procedures with Matt, I went to get some ice for our room. It was just down the hall, but the creaking of a door stopped me before I got there.

Janelle stepped out into the hall. She was dressed in a business suit, hair back in a painfully neat ponytail. Looking at her, I was reminded of the first time I'd seen her in the hospital with Alec, when I'd gotten a strong dominatrix vibe.

“You shouldn't leave the room,” she said. Inside, I caught a glimpse of Jessica pacing.

It was a little difficult to look at Janelle straight on, but I did it anyway. The last time we'd seen each other I'd been half-crazy, and before then I hadn't always been on my best behavior. She knew about the pictures as well, since Alec had asked for her help. She had become that person who only saw me during my worst times.

“I'm just getting ice.” I held up the bucket. Our room was cool, but the flat of water Matt had brought was warm, and I wanted a cold glass after a crazy day.

“Go ahead,” she nodded, making it clear she had every intention of watching me take the last ten steps.

I started forward, but then stopped.

“Listen, when I saw you at that motel in Lakeland I wasn't really all together.”

She smirked. “You don't say.”

I turned and took another step.

“It was my fault,” she said, closing the door quietly behind her. “I shouldn't have met him then, like
that
.” Her cheeks darkened. “I missed my husband.”

“I get it,” I said.

She gave a small nod, and though it didn't erase anything that had happened, for the first time it felt like we understood each other.

“Thanks for getting him back in the game,” she said, nodding toward the room I was sharing with Alec.

I gave her a one-shouldered shrug.

“Thanks for trying to protect me.”

She gave a dry laugh. “As if I had a choice.”

I lowered my voice. “Do we really have a shot of winning this?”

She smiled then, and it honestly gave me chills.

“We're going to bury that bastard.”

A surge of power shook through me. Maxim was going down. It was just a matter of time before Jeremiah was caught. Our struggles were soon going to be behind us, I could feel it. I went to get the ice, and when I passed again she gave me a knowing look.

“Try to keep it down tonight, huh?”

I batted my eyelashes innocently and pushed inside.

Alec was standing beside Matt at the dark cherry desk, staring at an open laptop with a deep-set scowl. When I closed the door, Matt shut the screen, and pulled it under his arm.

“I'll let you know what I find.” He shook Alec's hand, a friendly gesture that made me realize they must have become friends over the past few months.

He smiled and squeezed my arm on the way out.

“He's looking into Jeremiah Barlow,” Alec said when the door shut. “He's going to run some credit cards and bank statements, see if he can get a feel of where he's been hiding the last few weeks. Even if he's paying with cash like Jessica told you, he'll pop up somewhere.”

“Okay.” I didn't want to talk about Jeremiah Barlow right now.

Alec leaned back against the desk, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Max's
son
.” He shook his head. “He never even mentioned a kid. I never even thought to look.”

“Alec.”

He snorted. “Son of a bitch can't be far. If he's on the payroll, Max will keep him close. Especially once he learns I'm back in court.”

“Alec.”

“He's going to do something stupid again once he sees me take the stand. I want you with someone at all times, all right?”

I kicked off my shoes.

“I'll add minutes to the cell I gave you. You've got to keep it on you. No more leaving it in the apartment.”

I popped a piece of ice in my mouth.

“We're going to get him, Anna. Both of them.”

I pulled the dress over my head. Before we'd left, I'd made sure to put on a bra and panties—a black lacy number that hugged my ribs like a cutoff tank, and a matching black thong were the first things I could grab.

He blinked. His lips parted.

“Now that I've got your attention . . .” I said, moving the melting ice into my cheek.

“Have you been wearing that”—he pointed to me—“under that”—he pointed to the dress, now in a puddle on the floor—“all day?”

“I have.”

He pushed off the desk, desire drawing his muscles tight. Heat raced through me, even as my mouth stayed cold.

He took a step toward me. I took a step away.

His mouth quirked.

Another step, and I slipped to the side.

“Think you're faster than me?” he asked.

He lunged, and I bolted around the bed. When the mattress was between us, I slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slipped them an inch down my hips. He grimaced as I moved them lower, and groaned as I pulled them back up.

“Not faster,” I said. “Just smarter.”

“That was never a question.”

I lifted my foot and set in on the bed. His gaze fell between my legs, to the narrow strip of fabric that was growing wetter by the second. I twisted the strap of my bra around one finger.

He muttered a curse.