Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (24 page)

gravitate to the matching gray silk tie and I feel my body heat.

He closes the distance between us and pulls me to my feet. “You

want me to tie you up again.”

It’s not a question. Embarrassed, I look down. His finger slides under

my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “Don’t be shy. It’s just you and me, baby.

Nothing we do goes beyond us. Nothing you tell me goes beyond me.”

I wish that were true, but the more I know him, the more I know he

will go after whoever is after me. And they will go after him. “Yesterday you

were…different when we, ah…”

“Yesterday you didn’t need me to force you to let go. You were

already relaxed. Today, you’re on edge. Why?”

I shut my eyes a moment. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m good at being alone, Liam.”

“I don’t want you to be good at being alone. You aren’t alone

anymore.”

“It’s too early for you to make promises like that.”

“No. It’s not. This thing between us isn’t going away, but I’ve had

more time in life to figure that out and you’re afraid to count on me and us.

We’ll get by those things.”

“You’re so confident.”

“About what I feel for you, yes.”

“About everything.”

“Not everything,” he assures me. “You have this deer-in-headlights

look sometimes that I’m sure means you’re going to run. Run to me, Amy,

not from me.”

I wish I could promise him I would. Instead, I glower. “You are going

to be late.”

He doesn’t budge, and the look on his face tells me he notices how

I’ve avoided a promise I might not be able to keep. “Come with me to my

meetings. There’s a restaurant and shopping strip nearby you can hang out

at, or I’ll get you an office to work in.”

My heart squeezes at his protectiveness. “I have a doctor’s

appointment you insisted on, and yes, I have work I’ve neglected that I’ll

end up not doing. Stop worrying about me. Your new design has you talking

about this project all the time. You’re passionate about it now. Go make it

happen. Then you can stay here with me for a while.”

“I keep telling you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. To your meeting so I can make my doctor’s

appointment.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s two blocks. I’ll walk. Go to your meetings, Liam.”

“I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He runs his hand down the lavender

silk blouse that matches my new lavender shorts, and I feel his touch in

every part of me. I do not want him to go.

“Just seal the deal.” I kiss him.

His hand goes to the back of my head and he slants his mouth over

mine, deepening the kiss and leaving me breathless. “I plan to, baby,” he

assures me and sets me free, grabbing his briefcase and heading to the

door. And I know he’s not talking about the building. He’s talking about me

and him, and that sets me in action. I need a plan. A way out of this mess

once and for all. No more waiting on someone else to make it go away.

That hasn’t worked.

Today I have a mission. Answers.

Chapter Seventeen

I’ve barely stepped out of the doctor’s office when Liam sends me a

text.
How did the
doctor go?

As well as any appointment that requires you stick your legs in

stirrups.

And?
he replies.

And yes, I got a sample package of pills. It is 7 days before I’m

protected.

I can have a lot of fantasies in 7 days. What are you doing now?

Headed to walk by those properties and then do some research at the

library.

What research?

Don’t you have a meeting?

Yes dear,
he jokes.
I have a meeting. I’m actually being called back in

now. I’ll be tied up
for a few hours but call me if you need me. I’ll answer.

He’ll answer,
I type.

I stick my phone back in my purse and head for the bank. My stop is

disappointing. There has been no further deposit and I worry now, though

it hadn’t crossed my mind while Liam and I were together, that I might have

missed a message at the apartment. I find the door free of any plain white

envelopes and consider knocking on Jared’s door, but decide the mailbox is

a better option. A private note would not be left in a public place. Not one

that I wouldn’t find before anyone else. I don’t think I was given a key to

the mailbox. I’ll have to stop by to get one from Meg.

I’m about to turn back to the elevator when my door opens and a

big, burly man exits. I scream and I am pretty sure my heart ceases to beat

for a good sixty seconds. The door behind me opens and I whirl around and

run straight at Jared, who grabs my arms.

“Whoa. Sweetheart. Easy. What’s wrong?”

I blink up at Jared and my hands are all over his t-shirt that covers his

rock-hard chest when they should not be, but he is the closest thing to safe

I have right now. I turn in his arms and glare at the man in the front of my

door, who has on some sort of overalls and sports a beer belly and some

tools, and isn’t quite as scary as he was a moment ago. “Why are you in my

apartment?”

“Ms. Bensen?” he asks.

“Yes. Who are you?”

He chuckles. “You know people don’t normally get excited to see me,

but I don’t usually send them running into another man’s arms either. But

hey, maybe that explains why I’m not dating. I’m scarier than I thought.” He

holds up a key. “I changed the locks like you ordered.”

I let out a breath, and silently vow to make Liam pay for not warning

me. “Yes. Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming today.” And how did Liam

do this without a key but I quickly forget the question when I become

aware of Jared’s hand on my hip, his leg aligned with the back of mine. I

step forward, out of his reach, and accept the key from the locksmith, who

goes on to share some sort of mumbo-jumbo I do not hear.

Finally, he hands me the keys. “A maintenance guy came by and said

they had to have a copy of the key as the management company. I didn’t

give it to him. Didn’t know him from Adam. He wasn’t pleased.” He hands

me papers and I sign.

“Thank you,” I say and I mean it. “I’ll get keys to them.” Hopefully

never, I mentally add. I don’t care if I ever go back inside that apartment,

but if Liam leaves, I’ll have to.

Finally, the locksmith is gone and I turn to Jared, who looks way too

amused. “Stop laughing at me,” I order. “A single woman does not take a

strange man coming out of her apartment lightly. That is foolish.”

“I’m not complaining. It gave me a chance to get to know you better.

Of course, you almost ran me over in the process. Didn’t you know he was

coming?”

“No. Yes. I did, but it slipped my mind. I’ve been busy.”

“With the big, arrogant guy from the other day. Is he gone now?”

I grimace. “He’s not arrogant. And no, he’s not gone.”

“But he’s not here now.”

“No. He’s not here now.”

He motions to his briefcase. “I’m headed to a place around the

corner to drink a beer and get some work done. Want to join me?”

“Oh, ah, no. Thanks. I have some work of my own to do. I just came

by to grab a file.”

He stares at me, his brown eyes probing a bit too deeply, and I think

maybe Liam is right.

Maybe Jared is interested. I am so not equipped to handle two men

of their caliber in the same day. “You want me to walk you down?”

“Down?”

“To the street.”

“Yes. Sorry. The key guy rattled me. No. Go on without me. Thanks

for, well, keeping me from doing who knows what.”

His eyes dance with mischief, and a definite glint of warm brown

heat. “At your service anytime.”

He turns and saunters toward the elevator, all loose-legged

confidence in jeans, that bad-boy sexiness oozing off of him. I’m not sure

why I think the “bad boy” label fits him. It’s a feeling, like the familiar one I

normally have with him but I don’t today, and that bothers me almost as

much as when I do. I’m also not sure why I’m still staring after him when he

stops at elevator and turns to catch me watching him. He grins at me and

disappears inside the car.

***

I walk to the properties on my list I’m to visually inspect and report

on, and they all seem occupied and well maintained. Everything seems as it

should be, but my gut says it is not. At the final house on the list I find an

elderly lady sitting in a rocking chair on her porch, and I approach her.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m the property owner’s assistant and he just wanted

me to make sure everything is fine with the property.”

“Howard!” the woman calls.

An elderly man appears at the door. “What, Bella?” He smiles at me.

“Well hello, young lady.”

“Did you hire a management company or something?” Bella asks.

He frowns. “No. Why would I do that? Been owning this place for ten

years and done just fine by myself.”

My heart sinks. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong address. I’ll correct

my records.”

It’s official in my book. Everything is
not
as it should be. I walk away

and make a beeline to the realtor’s office, or rather, the law office, and

even that is weird. It really is past due I find answers. My steps quicken and

it hits me that there is a positive note to today. I don’t have that “being

followed” sensation. Answers, however do not seem to be in my immediate

future. When I arrive at the Evernight office location, I find a sign that says

“out to lunch.” I glance at the time on my phone. How has it gotten to be

3:00? And how is 3:00 lunchtime?

I dial Meg again and leave a message and exchange another text with

Liam before I decide I’m heading to the library. In the time I worked at the

Central Branch in New York, I’d never used its resources beyond looking

through some books. I’d been paranoid about bringing attention to myself.

But then I took the job at the museum. I think I’m an extremist. I sure have

been with my willingness to let Liam in my life and no one else.

I start walking toward a library I spotted a few blocks away when

Meg calls back. “Sorry I missed you. Luke being out of town is killing me. I

have to keep running out to deal with tenants.”

I prepare to turn around and go back to Evernight. “Are you heading

back to the office?”

“I have another customer to deal with. You want to do happy hour?

There’s a restaurant/bar joint called Earl’s right around the corner from

your apartment. One of our customers took me there once. Looks like a

great happy-hour spot.”

I’ll do whatever I have to in order to find the answers I need. “I’ll find

it. What time?”

“5:30?”

“I’ll see you then.”

We end the call and I continue on to the library, still remarkably

without the sensation of being followed. I’m not sure if that means I’m

without prying eyes or if I’m calmer now, and not conjuring demons where

they might not be. Am I calmer now?

Once I’m at the library, I sit down at a long wooden table and

consider where to dig into research, and as always when I’m thinking about

the past, my mind radiates toward the tattoo on my handler’s wrist. If I find

a link to him, I find a link to whatever, or whomever, I’m running from. I

consider what I’ve already considered in the past. I’ve always been certain

the triangle shape relates to the pyramids, since my father had done much

of his work in Egypt, but I have nothing that makes the exact image of the

tattoo connect to anything that confirms this.

I shut my eyes and picture Liam’s tattoo. The numbers beneath it

form a triangle. I don’t like where my mind is going, and I pull my computer

out of the small leather briefcase Liam bought me while shopping, and

Google the “pi” sign. Nowhere is there a similar image with numbers

forming an inverted triangle. And the symbol on my handler’s arm was a

triangle with words inside, words that I’d thought to be another language,

but had since decided was some sort of coded message. It isn’t like Liam’s

tattoo at all. Not even close. My stomach knots. Except for the triangle. I

draw in a heavy breath. Liam’s interest in pyramids is a coincidence that’s

hard to ignore. But lots of people are intrigued by pyramids, I remind

myself he’s an architect, looking for an answer as to how they were

created. Perhaps solving the mystery is a personal challenge.

It’s a logical interest, especially for someone who mastered his craft

at such a young age.

I key “mathematical symbols” into my search bar and scan image

after image in search of the symbol I’m looking for. I find triangles but

nothing that is a real match. Same story I always end up with. Finally, I force

myself to stop putting off what I really came here for. Today I will do what I

haven’t had the courage to do ever. I walk to one of the tables with

archived material and search for old newspaper clippings of the night my

life changed forever. Or I try. There is not one single reference to a fire in

my hometown the year or month when it occurred. Nothing. That is