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Authors: Elizabeth Finn

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Chapter Seven

S
he answered the call after the first ring. “Hunter Custom Fur—”

“Hold for a call from Sam Caval.” Fiona didn’t recognize the male voice that spoke to her, and he didn’t bother identifying himself.

“Okay.” The phone clicked a couple times, and then a voice she recognized came through.

“How’s my girl? You hanging in there? Getting along okay with Eli?”

“You know him?” It didn’t escape her that Eli’s attention was glued to her, and she trembled at the searing dark stare that watched her.

“Sure. Know his father more, but don’t you worry. You’re in good hands.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Where are you?”

“Well, I’m in Florida right now. Weather’s gorgeous.”

“What? Why are you there?”

“You know me, I follow the mark.”

“And he’s in Florida?” She was stumped. She shouldn’t be surprised by much of anything at this point, but she always was.

“Pretty sure he is. Listen, I’ve got some bad news.”

She took a deep breath.

“You’re wanted on drug possession with intent to sell charges out of Salt Lake City.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Eli’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s—”

“I know exactly what it is. They’re just hoping a warrant will get you to surface. You just stay hidden and let me do my job.”

“This could destroy me.” She was whispering, and she angled in her chair, trying to hide their conversation from Eli, but she caught his glare.

“They’ve already destroyed your life. Now, you just sit back and let me help you un-destroy it. It’s the least I owe you.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you soon. Stay away from Salt Lake City, and whatever you do, don’t get yourself arrested for anything. Last thing we need are your fingerprints going through IAFIS right now.”

“Got it.” She disconnected then and stared at the desktop. Tears were pricking her eyes as much in anger as in fear. To this point she wasn’t a criminal; she was simply missing. Now, there was a bogus warrant out for her arrest. She sniffed, keeping her head down.

“How do you know my father?”

She looked up quickly, and his brow flinched. She could only guess he saw how close to crying she was.

She shook the emotion away. “I don’t. He was just putting a call through.”

His arms were crossed on his chest, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry at her or just plain angry. She stood to head out the back door of the office to the restroom, but he quickly blocked her way.

“Who are you?” His voice was quiet as he looked down at her.

“I’m your kickass new secretary.” She tried to smile, but as she did, a tear fell.

He reached for her cheek and brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb. He was making it hard not to fall apart. She wanted to fall apart. She needed too. Instead, she escaped to the restroom, and she flushed her face with cool water until the need to cry passed and the heat sitting at the back of her eyes had cooled. When she returned to her desk, he was gone from his, and she settled in to work on the bids.

Her job wasn’t difficult work, though it was interesting, and she learned an enormous amount of information about how his business operated just by deciphering his cost structure. She also learned he had atrocious handwriting. He didn’t return until the end of the day. He walked in with a leather apron slung around his waist. The top portion that covered his chest had been dropped to hang as a second layer across his thighs, and for whatever reason, the sight of the worn and scratched leather, his dark hair, gray T-shirt, tanned arms, and perfectly aged jeans left her body coursing with need. Since when did she have needs?

He set the bag of bagels in front of her. “These will be too stale to eat come tomorrow morning—in case you get hungry tonight.”

“Thanks.”

He sat in the chair in front of the desk.

“What’s with the leather skirt? Not that I don’t love leather on a man.” She smirked, and he smiled. His was an amused smile, but it was a real one. Not some aloof unreadable expression. He was relaxing, and she was too.

“Piece of wood flying off a table saw can kill a man quickly if there’s nothing there to stop it from going through his gut. Where are you staying?”

She suddenly struggled to swallow. She was going to have to lie again, and she didn’t want to. She decided to go with a half lie and hope he wouldn’t catch the deception. “Country Inn out on twenty-two.”

“Nice place.” No, it wasn’t, and given the raised eyebrows and tongue in cheek expression, he damn well knew it.

She wasn’t lying. The hotel was absolutely where she’d spent the night. It was a hole in the wall, and after sitting in the shitty little diner that was attached to it, drinking coffee and nibbling on a bagel she’d stolen from the break room, she’d wandered the halls of the desolate building. She happened across the unlatched door of a janitorial closet. The key had been left in the handle, and she took it, ensuring she could return the next night. The closet was stocked full of shampoo, soap, and even some cracker packets. A faucet sat about three feet off the floor in one corner, and it emptied into a small tiled floor drain with a six inch wall surrounding it much like a strange floor sink. Given the mop bucket sitting nearby, it was used to fill them, and not meant for hygienic purposes. She’d used it as a shower. She’d bathed for the first time in days, letting the warm water run over her head as she held her hair under the faucet. Her shower was nowhere near the real thing, but she managed to get clean.

Now, Eli watched her curiously for a moment. He was likely deciding whether he believed what she said, and her heart started pounding. He may not realize it, but she was no happier about having to lie than he was about being lied to.

“You don’t have a car. How do you get there?”

“I walk.”

“It’s a ways.”

“A few miles. I don’t mind.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“No, thank you.”

He stood, and when he reached his office door, he turned back. “Tomorrow you’ll need to be here by three thirty or four. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She spent the evening curled up on some towels in the back of the closet at the Country Inn, munching half-stale bagels. This was no life, but it was still more of one than the one she’d run from. She’d had a home once. Her home had looked like any other from the outside, but it’d been hell on the inside. She didn’t miss her house one bit, and though she felt displaced and alone in this town, her warm janitorial closet was still the safest place she’d slept in years.

That was until the door opened.

Chapter Eight

B
y three o’clock the next afternoon Eli was anxious. He didn’t like that he wanted to see Fiona. He also didn’t like that Jake was eyeing the clock as much as he was. He kept thinking about her. Couldn’t seem to help it. She was his damn mystery du jour at the moment, and all he could think about was solving her. Of course, it wasn’t all he could think about. He also thought about fucking her. He didn’t want to think about that though because
that
complicated things, and
that
made him want to kick Jake’s ass for no good reason.

Jake was a nicer man than Eli was by a long shot, and were Eli at all concerned about her needs above his own, he’d likely have to admit that Jake would make a great man for her—far better than he would. Jake, at thirty-one, was closer to her age, and he was just naturally kinder and less of a dick too. But every time he thought about the way the man smiled at her, Eli’s jaw clenched tight, and his throat constricted.

Sadly, none of this went unnoticed by Mike. Mike had snowy white hair and about the sweetest disposition Eli had ever known. He was more a father figure to Eli than anything, and he had been for far longer than Eli’s life in Jackson. He’d known Mike for over twenty years, and he was as much family to Eli at this point as he was an employee—not that he didn’t have a good relationship with his family. He actually did, but Mike was something of an extension of that family.

“Boss, you keep looking at that clock like you’ve got somewhere else to be.” And at just that moment she walked through the door. “Ah…” Mike didn’t need to say more than that.

“It’s not like that,” he muttered to Mike.

He was forced to listen as Jake made small talk with her. Jake was good at small talk, and she was obviously at ease with him. Everyone was at ease with Jake. But her eyes kept glancing to Eli, and he held his gaze steadily on her. She looked tired again—too tired. Her hair didn’t look oily and dirty, but it was messy, and her skin was back to looking pale. When he managed to pull his attention from her, it was to see Mike studying him with a small smile on his lips. He laughed the moment Eli scowled at him and shook his head.

Aaron popped into the room and Eli wanted to hug the man. Jake finally shut up, and Fiona
finally
had something to do that didn’t involve being close to Jake. She followed Aaron from the room and down the corridor toward the janitorial closet. She’d be responsible for sweeping up, clearing the vacuums, clearing the sawdust traps, picking up the scraps, cleaning off the workbenches, and cleaning the break room and the restrooms too. He didn’t envy this part of her job in the least.

“You make sure she has leather on if she’s working on the floor while the guys are here.” He called after Aaron.

“Not sure we have any small enough for her.”

“Then you order one for her. She’s not to be on the floor without one when the guys are working.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, boss.” That was the last he saw of them for a while, and at five when Candace came through his door bearing the deposit bag, he tried to keep his cringe inside.

“That new girl still here, or did she get enough of you men?”

“That new girl has a name, Candy, and you know perfectly well what it is.” He didn’t miss the irony of his statement.

She snorted and tried to be casual, but she was jealous, and it was quite obvious.

“I don’t like her, and I don’t trust her.” Candace was overstepping some major bounds right then, but then, Candace didn’t think the bounds applied to her.

“Well, I like her just fine, and I trust her too.” It sounded odd to hear himself say it, but it was actually true. Very little of what Fiona told him was completely honest, and he knew that, but he still trusted her. He didn’t for a second think she was going to rob him blind at any rate.

“Yeah? Well, I think you want to sleep with her.” She was trying to taunt him, and she was most definitely pissing him off.

“It’s none of your business if I want to sleep with her or not.” Too bad he was so busy squaring off with Candace that he didn’t notice Fiona stepping through his office door until after the statement was made.

She stood just inside his door, her pale cheeks blushing a dark crimson color. She swam in a leather apron that was entirely too big on her, and she looked ridiculous standing by Candace who was dressed to the nines like usual. She looked so ridiculous, in fact, that he wanted to pull the apron off along with every other stitch of clothing on her body.

“Well, don’t you look cute? What’s this look called, workshop chic?” Candace eyed Fiona maliciously, and it pushed his last button.

“Get out!” He barked at Candace.

She harrumphed before pushing by Fiona. Fiona looked like she was holding her breath for a moment, and as she looked down at her apron, the blush on her cheeks reinvigorated as he watched. “I really thought she liked me the first time I met her.” Her tone was sarcastic. She was good at sarcasm when she needed to hold her own with him—something he didn’t make easy for anyone to do.

“I’m sure she did. But she didn’t think I was fucking you then.”

“Well, you’re not.” She shrugged, but she was hiding her nervousness. “Believe it or not, I’m not here to get a boyfriend.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say then, and he watched her, letting her become more and more uncomfortable. Her cheeks darkened yet again. She was exceptionally reactive, and he was enjoying himself far too much, but he put a stop to it quickly.

“What do you need, Fifi?”

“It’s not…that’s a dog’s name.”

“I’m not the one who gave myself a ridiculously stupid fake name. Fiona? Really? You couldn’t do better than that?”

She smiled then. She had a nice smile, and this was the biggest one he’d seen so far. Her teeth were straight and white, and it was really quite an impressive thing. “Well, what would you like to call me?”

“I’d like to call you your name, but seeing as I have no idea what that is…” He cocked his head to the side, and her face dropped slightly with a small smile still frozen on her lips.

“Names are overrated, and my real one’s not worth much right now.” There was a sadness behind her forced smile.

“What do you need?”

She cleared her throat. “Aaron left, and we really didn’t get much training done. I’m not really sure what I should—”

“That asshole.” He muttered it. He’d asked Aaron to stay late and offered to pay him double time to get her up to speed. He assumed when Aaron said yes, he actually meant yes. What a fucking stupid assumption to make. “Come on. I’ll help you.” He needed to finish some designs for a bid he was working on for the new city hall office building, and now he was going to end up taking it home and spending half the night on it. But he was more than happy to help her, and even if his attitude appeared annoyed, he really wasn’t.

He spent the next two hours showing her how to empty sawdust traps and the large dust collecting vacuums that funneled the vast majority of the sawdust from the equipment into several large bags. When he turned his back on her, she toppled over backward as she tried to lug a fifty-pound bag of sawdust. She ended up burying her legs in the mess as the bag fell over on her. It sent sawdust flying up into her face too, and she was sputtering and shaking her head when he turned back to her. Not laughing wasn’t an option.

He pulled her up to her feet and started brushing the sawdust off her shoulders and picking pieces of it out of her hair. She was stomping her feet, shaking it off her jeans, and when she was finally marginally clean, he sighed.

“Don’t worry about these. The guys are just going to have to keep emptying them before they leave every night—even on the nights you come to clean. I’m ordering pizza. What do you like?”

She tried to argue but finally admitted she was, in fact, a normal human being and liked pepperoni pizza. They ate as they sat across from one another at a large workbench, and when they were finished, he cleaned up the mess of sawdust she’d made while she emptied the sawdust traps and checked for buildup.

He didn’t want to keep her late, and he needed to get back to his designs, but when he told her she was free to go, she wasn’t in much hurry to. She dallied around until she couldn’t make a case to stay any longer, and he watched her curiously. When she pulled her coat on and picked up her overly large purse, she swallowed over a lump in her throat. He couldn’t figure her out in the least. She lifted her hand as she waved bye, and he watched as she left into the cold, blustery night.

He couldn’t concentrate on his work, and he finally gave up at ten, abandoning his designs on his drafting table and going home. He lived in a nearly five thousand square foot contemporary prairie style home that butted up against protected ranch lands. He loved his home, and he loved that he didn’t need to worry about neighbors encroaching on his space, too. His property was on five acres, and with the nearest land protected, he was truly alone in his quiet world.

His first stop was his wine cellar that sat off the kitchen. He pulled a rather expensive Shiraz, uncorked it, grabbed a Bordeaux wine glass, and headed for his bedroom. The moon was nearly full, and after dimming the lights to a nearly non-existent level, he spent a few minutes studying it from the telescope that sat along the wall of windows in his master bedroom. He gave it up quickly though, collapsing on a contemporary chaise that sat nearby. He stared out at the darkness from his dimly lit room and thought about Fiona in her shitty hotel room. He was drinking a hundred dollar bottle of Shiraz, and she was struggling to feed herself on a daily basis.

He didn’t like thinking of her there alone. It left a knot in his stomach. When his cell rang, he nearly knocked over his glass of wine as he reached for the phone on the ground beside him.

Caller ID said it was his parent’s home, and the almost always exuberant voice on the other end said it was his mother. “Hi, Mom.”

“Elijah, my dear. I miss you. Are we going to see you at Thanksgiving?”

“Of course.”

“Good. It’s coming up. Just a couple more weeks.”

“I know. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Your father is driving me batty as usual, and…oh…” She sighed. “He wants to talk to you. I’ll see you in a couple weeks, dear.”

“Bye, Mom.” He barely had the words out of his mouth before he heard his father clearing his throat and shutting a door. He’d obviously sneaked away to his office.

“How’s our girl, Eli?”

“She’s not my girl, Dad, she’s yours, or she’s someone else’s who shall remain nameless.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“She’s fine, near as I can tell.”

“You sure about that? Got word she was nearly arrested last night when she was caught sleeping in a hotel storage closet. Perhaps keep a closer eye on her.”

“What!” He sat upright on the chaise. “Wait, then where the hell is she staying? It’s fucking snowing out, and you’re telling me she’s homeless?”

“Gee, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re worried about her.”

“It’s twenty degrees out, Dad!”

“Listen, she’s not had a place to stay since arriving in town, and she’s obviously stayed alive so far. I thought you were going to be paying this girl.”

“I was planning on paying her on my normal pay schedule. I didn’t realize she was this broke. I thought she was poor, not destitute. Fuck!” Panic welled up inside him. Suddenly the thought of her sitting in a shitty hotel room was the good dream. Her reality was far worse than that.

He spent the next few hours staring outside, pacing as he grumbled. He didn’t have a clue what to do, and at three in the morning, he gave up thinking there was any chance of sleep and left to spend the next several hours driving around town, looking for her.

He drove slowly down one street after another, searching every alleyway he could find. He even pulled up in front of the workshop and checked the building to see if anyone was there. Of course it was empty; he’d not yet given her a key. After returning to his car, he cursed and threw his SUV back into drive.

The square was just as deserted as the rest of the streets, and after circling it twice and cussing some more, he conceded defeat. The entire night ended up being a colossal waste of his time, and when the sun finally came up, he was only just pulling into his driveway exhausted, behind on his bids, and furious. It promised to be a great day.

BOOK: The Innocent Liar
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