Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality (27 page)

I shake my head. “No, Liam.”

“I’m not getting on this plane thinking you might need something I

can’t give you. Take it. The pin is 1117. We will both have piece of mind in

knowing you have it if you need it.”

Reluctantly, I nod and accept it. “Hurry back.”

He pushes to his feet, stares down at me for several seconds and

then grabs his bag and starts walking. Fighting the urge to chase after him, I

dig my fingers into the blanket and wait for the sound I dread. The door

opening and shutting with him on the outside.

I am alone again.

Chapter Nineteen

I wake up the next morning in an empty bed, with my cell phone on

the pillow where I wish Liam’s head were resting. He didn’t call. He’d sent

me a text message when he landed in New York that was nothing more

than
Are you okay?
followed by
walking into the hospital
when I’d

confirmed I was fine. I’d called him several times but he had not answered.

Sitting up, I scan the room that has oddly begun to feel like home,

but today it is an empty shell and I have nothing to fill it with. It scares me

how wrong I feel without Liam. How quickly I have become used to waking

up to him. My phone beeps with a text and I quickly click on it.

This is why I didn’t want you here.
There is a link and I click on it. The

headline reads,
Billionaire’s father arrested on DUI
. The subtitle though is

the worst part.
Mother of two almost
bleeds to death while young daughter

watches
. I read the details of what has been reported and my gut knots at

the horrific article that all but calls it Liam’s fault for not controlling his

father. I dial his number. He doesn’t answer. I text him.
Please call me.

Walking into courthouse
is the reply I receive.

He doesn’t want to talk to me. I feel it. He needed me last night and

he feels like I wasn’t there for him.
Maybe I have a little too much of my

pops in me for both our good.
My confident, talented man isn’t as confident

as I thought. Somehow the vulnerability in him makes him more human,

more special. But he doesn’t think so. He thinks of himself as damaged

goods.

My hand settles on my belly and I hate the certainty that if I am

pregnant I’ll have to leave Liam. He is too high profile, too newsworthy, and

my child and I would therefore be in the spotlight, where we would become

bigger targets than I already am. I see why Alex hated the press. Liam is

media fodder whether he wants to be or not. I don’t want to leave him. I

don’t want to run anymore. That means I cannot sit back and hope I am not

found. I can’t go on trying to find answers in a scared and non-committed

way.

Decision made to act and quickly, I throw off the blanket, rush

through a shower, and then dress in jeans, a tank top, and Keds. I leave the

hotel on a mission for answers, and make my now daily stop by the bank,

where I disappointedly find nothing has changed. There is not more money

in my account. The discovery serves as reinforcement for what I have to do

next. If Liam were to suddenly be out of my life, I have to be able to survive

and not end up dead.

I swing by the cell phone store, where I buy several disposable

phones. A few blocks later, I stop at Evernight to find another “out to

lunch” sign. I call Meg and she actually answers.

“Please tell me you’re okay. I tried to call you this morning. I was

worried after that man of yours acted like an oaf.”

“I didn’t see the call.” In fact, I’m quite certain there wasn’t one, so

this lie bothers me.

“I’m fine. Liam had a family emergency and he overreacted to Jared

because of it.”

“Oh no. I hope everything is okay?”

I think better of telling her he’s out of town. “It’s under control. I’ve

been trying to connect with you on the properties I was given to inspect. I

really don’t think I have the right list.

If I email you the list, can you confirm if I do or don’t?”

“Sure. Of course.” She gives me her direct email address. “You want

to try happy hour again?”

No. “I’m tied up for the next few days. Maybe mid-week. I’ll email

you the list today.”

“Yes. Okay.” She sounds awkward, but who wouldn’t after what she

witnessed last night?

“You might want to call Jared. He was worried about you.”

“I don’t even have his number.”

“I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks.” No thanks is more like it.

We end the call and she indeed sends me Jared’s number by text,

which I delete. I have no intention of letting Jared know my cell number,

and hopefully Meg won’t give it to him. As it is, the mystery

blocked-number call has me uneasy.

I grab a few groceries that will allow me to keep my slim budget in

check and hole up in the hotel room for a few days, intending to do nothing

but research. I set up a workstation on the dining room table and then dial

Liam. He doesn’t answer. I text him. No reply. I try not to think the worst,

like he’s shutting me out intentionally, or that I’m still here in his rented

room, out of some obligation he feels to protect me. It’s not hard to believe

that could be true, with the news piece blaming him for his father’s sins.

Guilt, no matter how unwarranted, has to be his enemy right now.

Settling into a chair at the dining room table, I prepare a notepad and

have my computer on and ready. My first priority is to send Meg the

property listings, then I break out the disposable phones. I begin making

calls, pretending to be a reporter from a New York paper who is doing a

story on my father’s life and death. No one can find records of the fire. This

is illogical. There
was a
fire. I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine that life-changing

event.

Hours pass and I make call after call to museums, media outlets,

records departments, and old connections I know are linked to my father. It

seems I blink and the room is dim, the sunlight gone. I flip on lights and

check my inbox and find nothing from Meg on the property listing I sent

her. I call her and she replies by text.
Working late. Will call you tomorrow.

A knock sounds on the door and I stand up, staring in the direction of

the entryway. No one knows I’m here. Liam has stopped evening

housekeeping visits. I’m not being paranoid. I’m being realistic. This could

be a problem. More knocking sounds. I decide I’m going to pretend I’m not

here. My cell phone starts ringing and I glance down to find the caller ID

reads “Derek”.

I am relieved. Someone will be on the phone with me if this door

knocking turns into a problem.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Amy, this is Derek. Do you know who I am?”

“Liam’s friend.”

“Liam’s friend who is standing at your door with a delivery from

him.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was—”

“Being smart like any woman alone should be, but let me in, will ya?”

“Yes. On my way.” I end the call and rush toward the door.

Opening it up, I find a tall, good-looking blond man about Liam’s age,

in a well-tailored navy suit, holding plastic grocery bags. He lifts them

slightly. “I bring food.”

What? “Am I on Candid Camera?”

He chuckles. “If you are, we both are, and I think I might be the one

getting laughed at.”

He enters the hall and keeps walking, leading me to the mini-fridge in

the main room of the suite.

He deposits the bags on the counter. “Liam didn’t trust you to spend

your money, or his, on groceries. He didn’t want you to go hungry.” He

starts putting away the groceries.

“I can’t believe he asked you to do this. I can’t believe you really did

it.”

“He’s worried about you.”

“He can’t keep spending money on me.”

He glances over his shoulder. “You do know he’s a billionaire, right?”

“Sometimes I wish he wasn’t.”

He shuts the fridge and leans on the counter, crossing his arms over

his chest. “I have to hear this. Do explain.”

Liam’s words about his father, about many people, I suspect, come

back to me.
Sharks
swimming at my feet.
“How will he ever know I want

him and not his money?”

His expression softens. “He knows, Amy. Believe me, he knows, or

you wouldn’t be here and neither would I.”

“He won’t even take my calls.”

“He’s messed up right now.”

“Over his father.”

“Yes. Over his father. Give him a little time.”

I don’t like how that sounds. “How long do you think he’ll be gone?”

“A few days. We have to finalize him as the architect on this project

by next week or he’s out. He seems to want in.”

“If he gets to use his design.”

“You seem to know him pretty well for someone who just came into

his life. That’s good.

He’s been alone a long time.”

Liam has been alone a long time. I’m still thinking about that a few

minutes later when I shut the door behind Derek, promising to lock up and

call him if I need anything. I like Derek and decide I will call him if I need to.

I just hope I don’t need to. I dial Liam. He doesn’t answer.

No surprise there. I shower and pull on one of his shirts and call

again. Still he doesn’t answer.

***

Two days pass, and Liam has only texted me a few times. I’m going

crazy and it’s

Sunday, so I’m limited on distractions. I can’t make much progress on

the phone and the library in walking distance is closed. Monday comes with

a text from Liam checking on me that leaves me feeling more alone than

ever. I dress and arrive at the library when it opens, and my hunt through

their microfilm collection takes up most of the day.

Tuesday arrives with another text and drives me into more research.

While I am no closer to answers about my past, I actually connect with

someone who can change my identity completely. The catch: it will cost me

ten thousand dollars I don’t have. The alternative is a flea-market fake that

will at least allow me to travel inside the States. At fifty dollars, it wins me

over and I decide getting one is on my Wednesday agenda as a safety

precaution.

It’s nearly nine o’clock when Derek stops by again. I greet him at the

door, feeling rather hostile at his presence. “Why are you here to check up

on me for him but he can’t call me?”

“Amy—”

“Answer the question.”

He scrubs his jaw. “He’s dealing with his father’s trash talk and it

messes with his head more than you can possibly know.”

“Exactly, because he’s shut me out.”

“He’ll come around. Let me take you to dinner.”

“No. I’m staying here. Thank you, though.” I don’t invite him in.

“Liam says you need a job.”

“I have one.”

He studies me a moment. “Then why does he think you don’t?”

“I’ll ask him if he calls me.”

He sighs heavily. “Call me if you need me.”

Guilt over my shortness is instant. “I’m sorry. Thank you. I will.”

He leaves, and while I’m no longer hostile, I’m determined. The

silence has to end. I call Liam and he doesn’t answer. That’s it. I’m taking

action. I text him.
Call me or I’m getting on a
plane and finding you. And if

you think I won’t do it, you don’t know me well.

My cell rings instantly. I answer to hear, “Amy.” His voice is

sandpaper rough, almost brittle.

“I guess your quick call means you really want to stop me from

showing up there.”

“I don’t want you in this part of my life.”

He thinks he’s bad for me. I think I’m bad for him. “You aren’t your

father.”

“You won’t convince him of that.” Bitterness and pain ripple through

his words.

“Let me come there and be with you.”

“No. You will end up in the newspapers.”

“And you don’t want me there.”

“I don’t.”

I flinch. “Okay. I get it. I’m going to go back to my apartment—”

“No. Shit. Don’t. Please. I’m handling this all wrong, just like I did the

other night in Earl’s. Look. Amy. I’m not the person I want you to know right

now. That’s why I haven’t called.

I don’t know what will come out of my mouth, but thinking about

being back there with you is all that keeps me sane.”

My eyes pinch. “Just come back,” I whisper. “When can you come

back?”

“Soon.”

“Promise. I know how you feel about promises.”

“I promise.” He hesitates. “Amy—”

“Yes?” I hold my breath and wait, not sure what to expect.

He lets out a breath. “Tell me you won’t leave.”

“I won’t leave.”

“Promise.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. If I make this promise I have to tell him

everything when he gets back. He can’t protect himself from a danger he

doesn’t know exists. And I’m pretty certain he’d come after me if I left

anyway. “I promise.”

***

Wednesday morning I am at the bank when it opens to discover my

account is as empty as my inbox remains. I’m frustrated with Meg’s “out

with a client” and “haven’t had time to check the listings” text messages.

Surely her boss has to have returned to town, and I head in that direction.