Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (12 page)

Don’t text. I need to know you are okay. If I don’t hear from you in the

next fifteen minutes I’m
leaving my meeting and heading to your

apartment.

A thunderstorm of emotions rushes through me, and I let the phone

drop to my lap. Liam is worried about me? He’s going to leave a meeting to

check on me? He barely knows me. Why would he do that?
We both know

you’re in some kind of trouble.
I squeeze my eyes shut, conflicted clear to

my soul. No one worries about me. No one should know enough to know to

worry about me. But Liam does. He does and I want him to. I want
him.
The

phone starts to ring again and I can barely catch my breath. I have to talk to

him, and I tell myself it’s not because some deep part of me craves the

sound of his voice. I have to turn him away and be convincing.

For him. For his safety. Money can buy things, and even people, but

it can’t keep him alive. Not from a threat I don’t understand enough to

explain.

I draw a breath and answer the call. “Hello.”

“Amy,” Liam says, and somehow my name is both a command and a

caress.

“Liam,” I reply and I like how my name sounds on his lips. I also like

how his name feels on my tongue. Even more so. I like how his tongue feels

against mine, how he feels when I am with him.

“You didn’t text me like I told you to.”

Normally I would bristle at the command, but it takes effort to

muster objection. “I’m not good at taking orders, Liam.”

“Is that why you didn’t text me?” His voice is softer now, his tone too

intimate and yet still not intimate enough to satisfy the craving his voice

creates in me. I will myself to say more, to say goodbye, but I can’t get the

words out. I settle on, “I’m going to drop the phone by your hotel. I can’t

accept it.”

“It’s a gift.”

“I pay my own way.”

“The money is nothing to me and everything to you.”

This time I do bristle. Money is nothing to me beyond basic survival.

“Your money is nothing to me, Liam.”

“And while that makes me immensely happy in some way, Amy, it

does not now, when we are talking about the phone. Money is just money.

You are right. But your safety is another story. You need the phone.”

I think of the phone my handler gave me, and it bothers me he can

track me. He can perhaps see my phone records. But won’t Liam be able to

do the same? “I’ll get my own phone.”

“Use this one until you do.”

I open my mouth to object and he seems to read my thoughts.

“Compromise, Amy.”

Compromise. And while I feel that is all I have done my entire life, it

is strangely appealing with Liam, maybe because it implies there is a

relationship between us that there isn’t.

Is there? “I can’t keep the phone.”

“At least keep it and use it until we can talk about it tonight.”

Tonight? “No. No there isn’t a tonight. I can’t see you anymore.”

Silence. One beat. Two. “There is that word again,” he observes, and

then repeats, “We’ll talk tonight, Amy.”

“No, Liam. No.”

“You think you’re alone but you aren’t.”

“Because I have you now?”

“Yes. I know you don’t believe that, but you will. Soon, baby, you

will.”

The idea of having him is bittersweet in so many ways I can’t tick

them off in a year.

“You don’t know what I think or what is important to me.”

“I know enough. The rest I want to find out.”

“No.” But it sounds like yes. “I won’t be here tonight. I have plans.”

Like locking myself in that cage of an apartment and going nowhere.

“I’m not going away, Amy. You do know that, don’t you?”

His voice is possessive, a rasp of sandpaper over my nerve endings

followed by pure silk, and it does funny things to my stomach. “I don’t need

a protector, Liam.”

“I see things differently.”

My spine locks into a steel bar. “I am not your—”

“Not yet. But I want you to be.”

I blink. What? He wants me to be what?

“I’ll call you when I finally get out of this meeting. It will probably be

about six. One of the investors isn’t flying in until later today.”

I fight the urge to ask about the meeting and the investor. “Why are

you doing this?” I whisper.

“You won’t like my answer.”

“How do you know what I like or don’t like?”

“I’ll see you tonight.” The line goes dead and I do not know why, but I

need my answer. I call back. He answers immediately. “At least I have you

using the phone.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you are you, Amy. And I have to go, but text me if you need

me.” He hangs up again.

I clutch the phone. He was right. I do not like his answer. My very

existence is a lie and that means anything he sees in me, anything between

us, is also a lie.

Chapter Nine

After buying the clothes I had on in the dressing room and wearing

them out of the store, I have to stop by the realtor’s office before I go to

the grocery store. The six-block walk takes me past rows of cute stores and

eateries, and I find Evernight Legal Services nestled in between a coffee

shop and a furniture store. I frown. I thought this was a real estate office,

but it’s logical enough that a law office might handle all business affairs for

someone.

I head inside the office, and I am pretty much pushed through the

door by a gust of wind that jangles the bells attached to the entrance. In

New York, I was pushed and shoved by people.

Here it’s Mother Nature, and according to the store clerk I’d asked,

this is normal here.

Swiping at the hair in my face, I find myself standing in a small,

homey-looking, compact office, and in front of a rich mahogany desk with a

narrow hallway that looks like it leads to a few offices at most. “Welcome.”

My gaze shifts to a gorgeous, twenty-twoish blonde bombshell wearing a

hot pink dress and lipstick to match who appears in the doorway behind

the desk. “Can I help you?”

“Amy Bensen.” The name rolls off my tongue far easier than it had

with Jared. I settle my leather bag, now packed with my shopping haul, on

the waiting room chair. “I’m here to drop off my signed lease.”

“Oh yes. Amy.” She smiles and offers me her hand. “Luke told me you

were coming by.”

“Luke?”

“My boss. He’s not in right now. I think he said there was a package

for you.”

A package? I’m not sure what to make of that. “For me? Are you

sure?”

“Well, I’m new so I could be wrong, but let me go look in the mail

room. I’m almost certain we had something, though.” She heads down the

hallway without me truly seeing her.

The package has to be from my handler. It would make sense. Maybe

it contains a real explanation to what is happening and why I had to leave

New York, I think hopefully, and my heart begins to thunder in my chest,

adrenaline pouring through me. Answers. That’s all I want.

It’s the unknown that makes me jumpy, afraid of my own shadow.

The woman returns with a box wrapped in brown paper, reading a

sticky attached. “Yep. I was right. The note says it’s from Mr. Williams.”

“Have you met him?” Could he be my handler?

Her brow furrows. “Dermit Williams?” I nod and she shakes her head.

“No. He’s out of the country. He’s been Luke’s client for years, I believe.”

I pull the lease from my bag. “Here’s the signed paperwork I was told

to bring by here.

I’m assuming Mr. Williams owns my building? The lease is with

Evernight.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, but that sounds logical. I really just started

a few days ago.”

She offers me her hand. “I’m Meagan, by the way. You can call me

Meg.”

“Nice to meet you, Meg.” I shake her hand. “Are you new to town or

just new here?”

“New to town, just like you. I got my paralegal degree in New Mexico

just this month and had a job lined up with a big firm that fell through.” She

holds out her hands. “So here I am.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry. Why don’t you go home?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” She crinkles her nose. “You know. Personal drama,

new life. Yada yada.

Life is as perfect as a hot man in a pink hat, if you know what I

mean.”

I try to picture Liam in a pink hat and she is right. It’s just wrong. I

grin. “A pink hat on a hot man. I’m not going to forget that one anytime

soon.”

She grins. “I aim to make a lasting impression.”

I think of Jared and my t-shirt that was so very obviously wrong with

my skirt and heels.

I liked him. I like Meg. As for Liam, I downright crave that man. None

of this is good. None of this is staying off the radar.

“We should do coffee,” Meg suggests, her voice snapping my gaze

back to hers. “We’re both new and all. Or drinks. There are some cool spots

around here for happy hour.”

“Sounds fun.” And it does, but I won’t be going any more than I will

be calling to check on Chloe. I won’t be diving into the deep, dark waters of

some wild river and taking others to drown with me. I’m not that selfish

and I won’t let a window of weakness change that.

“You want to exchange numbers?”

“I have a new cell phone but it isn’t working right. I’ll call you and

give you my number when I’m sure it’s staying as is.” I crinkle my nose.

“And when I remember the number.”

“I did that last week.” She grabs a pen. “Let me give you my cell so

you don’t have to call me here.” She scribbles it down and hands it over. “I

already memorized mine.”

Accepting the paper, I ignore the pinch in my chest at the certainty I

will never be calling her. “Thanks. It’s nice to start to know people here.”

She lifts the box. “It’s kind of heavy.”

I take it from her and frown. It won’t fit into my bag with my other

things. It’s going to be a long walk back to the apartment.

***

It’s all I can do not to stop on the street corner and open the box, but

the instant I step back out into the wind, I have this sensation of being

watched. Two blocks later I still feel it and it’s driving me nuts. I tell myself

it’s understandable paranoia considering everything, but I don’t remind

myself again how I got past this in New York. I didn’t get past anything. I put

it out of sight, and out of sight was out of mind. Not this time. This time I

want answers that I hope this box holds.

Finally, I reach the apartment and with aching arms from lugging all

my stuff, I walk into the hallway, drop my bag, and lock the door. Holding

the box to my chest, I lean against the door and stare into the apartment,

listening for anything or anyone that might be present. Eerie silence greets

me, and while it should comfort me, it does not. I hate silence. I hate it with

a passion. I rush forward and set the box on the table, and with my heart in

my throat, I search the apartment.

I lie all the time. Why should I trust the silence?

Once I’m certain I’m alone, I sit down at the dining room table, and in

the absence of a kitchen knife, I struggle with the tape and use my

apartment key to cut it down the center. Note to self. I need a key ring for

the single key I’m bound to lose, and silverware. I need to make a kitchen

list. I start one in my mind. A couple of cheap pans. Cheap paper plates.

Plasticware with a few real knives. I rip the box open and set my key aside.

Lifting the lid, I stare down at the MacBook Air with a folder on top.

Well, this is certainly a surprise. I reach for the folder and flip it open. A

typed note is included.

Ms. Bensen. Welcome aboard. Enclosed is a list of the properties

Evernight leases on my
behalf. As we discussed in our phone interview, you

will need to do a weekly visual inspection to
ensure they are properly

maintained and email me a report.

Phone interview? I did a phone interview? I’m confused. This is a

cover story. I was told not to look for a job. I keep reading.

An external check is all I need, and all properties are within a few

blocks of one another
in Cherry Creek. In addition, Evernight will provide you

with a report on all newly listed
properties in the Denver area. You will

cross-reference them with public listings and send me
anything that fits the

criteria I’m including. Please email me when you get this so I know you are

properly settled. I will have various other projects for you to undertake once

I get to my location
and get settled. I have limited phone connectivity, so if

you have any issues you will need to
email. If there is an emergency, you

can reach my attorney, whose number I’m including.

Dermit Williams

Dermit Williams Holding Company

I scan and find an email from my new boss, and his signature, which

is no signature at all. It’s just his name typed. There is no script and there is

no symbol to tell me I should trust this person. I’m baffled. I’ve been told