Behind Your Back (22 page)

In the pictures my mother is radiant. Happy. I didn’t save any that had him in them. He was the reason they killed her. He’d gotten involved with things he shouldn’t have gotten involved with and they killed her for it. They kept him alive though, and sent him to prison. I don’t even know where he is. I don’t care. I got custody of Lizzy and we left. I changed our names as soon as I could and then I met Cash. It was so easy, how things fell together for us. Easy then. Not so easy now.

I put the pictures back and turn my attention to Leo. We play fetch and then a text comes through from Saige.

You wouldn’t be interested in going to dinner at my parents’ this weekend, would you?

It’s like she’s doing my work for me. That will be perfect and will let me set the groundwork. Once I have the layout of the house and they feel comfortable having me there, everything will be ready to go.

I guess. Does it win me extra points?

I wish I could see her face when she reads the message. Hear her voice responding.

Oh I think I can find a few ways to reward you.

I can’t help but smile at how perfectly this is going.

I hope they’re naked ways.

I swear I can almost hear her laugh.

Maybe…

I chuckle a little as Leo paws my arm to get my attention. I toss the ball and he runs after it like a maniac.

Everything is lining up perfectly.

S
aige is swamped for the rest of the week with tests and papers and so forth, so I don’t hear much from her. I get the apartment ready anyway. Just in case.

I also don’t hear anything further from my stalker. I’m half-tempted to send a message back, but don’t. With any luck, this job will be finished soon and we’ll be out of here. I’ll have a new identity and new phones and it will be done.

The guys found the angle where the picture was taken. The stalker had picked the perfect place to hide in an alley that opened up to the other side of the street so he had a clean getaway. There was no evidence to be found other than trash and dirt and empty cans. It isn’t like we had a forensics team on staff, so it’s another dead end. The only thing to do is keep our eyes and ears open and wait for whoever it was to make their next move. Because soon only sending texts and taking pictures won’t be enough.

The boys are fighting about where to go next. I’m thinking the West Coast, since we haven’t been there for a while. It would be good to get as far away from here as we can. It will mean moving Lizzy, but she’s pretty adaptable. She’s moved before and been fine. It’s tricky for me keeping that from the others, but I can manage.

I’m wondering if the dinner is still on with Saige’s parents when she shows up at my office on Thursday. I gave orders to Grace that if I’m not with a client, Saige is allowed to come in whenever she wants.

I’m just hanging up my phone when the door opens and there she is, wearing a black dress, a black scarf with skulls on it and a pair of killer boots. Black is never simple when she’s wearing it.

“Brought you lunch,” she says, holding up two large brown paper bags from a local sandwich shop.

“Perfect timing,” I say, moving the files on my desk to one side and locking my computer.

“How’s school?” I ask as she sets everything out. A BLT for me and a turkey wrap for her, fruit salad and Cokes for both of us.

“Kill me now,” she says. “You have no idea how much under-eye concealer I have on right now just to look normal. I’m also considering a caffeine drip.” She always makes me laugh.

“Well, you look rested to me. And I’m pretty sure the caffeine drip would be frowned upon by medical professionals.” She pouts her red lips and digs into her wrap.

“Well, people go to other countries for cheap plastic surgery all the time. Maybe I could do that.” I shake my head at her absurdity.

“I have another reason for bringing you lunch, other than to see you.” I figured. I cut my sandwich in half with the plastic knife and pick up a piece.

“I’m guessing this has to do with your parents and a certain dinner I agreed to go to,” I say before taking a bite.

“Yeah. Listen, you really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can tell them you have the mumps or something.” I nearly snort into my sandwich.

“No, it’s fine,” I say after I’ve swallowed and taken a sip of Coke.

“I just didn’t want you to feel pressured if you really don’t want to go. I know family stuff is touchy for you.” Shit. I really don’t like her knowing my weaknesses. Especially that.

“Really, Saige. It’s fine. Just tell me where and when and what to wear and I’ll be at your place to pick you up.” She gives me a sly smile.

“Or maybe we could hang out at your place and I can get ready there and then we can come back to your place and I can show you how much it means to me that you’re willing to sit through a potentially awkward dinner with my parents.” I am completely on board with this plan.

“I think that can be arranged,” I say, rubbing my chin as if I’m thinking about it. I’ve started shaving again, but I know she misses the stubble.

“You’re the best,” she says, grinning at me.

The dominoes are set and it’s time to make them start falling.

Twenty-One

S
aturday afternoon, I pick Saige up at her place. I can’t visit Lizzy this week, but I called her and let her know. She sounded sad, but she said it was fine. That she loved me anyway. Thank God someone did.

“Are you moving in with me?” I joke as Saige skips down the stairs with a garment bag over her arm and a huge bag full of who knows what.

“Hey, it takes a lot to get me ready to see my folks. My mother notices everything and if my makeup isn’t up to her standards, I’m going to get a lecture. My goal is to get out of there with only one, which is pushing it.”

She throws the stuff in the backseat and gets in the front, giving me a quick kiss.

“Your parents don’t approve of you?” I ask. I’m interested to hear her side of that story.

She snorts a little as I pull out onto the street.

“You could say that. I’m not exactly what they had in mind when they decided to have children. And then they only had me, so it’s not like they got one to be their golden child and another to screw things up.” I knew that as well.

“Why didn’t they have more?” Why am I asking this? It doesn’t matter. But I want to know more about her anyway. It’s like a compulsion I can’t stop.

“They tried. It didn’t work out.” She turns and looks out the window and I can tell there’s more to that story, but if she can respect my boundaries and not talk about my family, I can respect hers.

“Hmm,” I say, to let her know I’m listening. She turns on the radio and we pretend to fight over which station to choose. We’re still undecided when I pull up in front of the apartment and park.

“Wow. Swanky,” she says, looking out the window and up at the glossy building. It’s everything new and modern and chrome and steel and glass. Cold and unemotional. I got to pick this one and Cash absolutely hates it. He wanted a brownstone in a different part of the city, but we all vetoed that choice.

“Thanks. It works for what I need it for.” I get out and help her with her stuff. The bag she’s brought is much heavier than I thought it would be.

“Do you have bricks in here?” I joke as we walk up the steps and I swipe a card to get into the building. In addition to this place being cold and unemotional, it’s also high tech, which is another reason we picked it. You need a key card to get in and you need a key card to unlock your door and if you don’t have that, then a fingerprint.

“Brrr,” she says as the cold air blasts us. It’s always cold in here, which just adds to the whole persona of the building.

We head for the elevator and I take her up to the fourteenth floor.

“This isn’t what I expected,” she says, looking around as we step out of the elevator.

“What did you expect?” I say.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. Something warmer. More homey. Maybe with a ratty couch you had from college or something. More of a bachelor pad than… this.” She motions down the black marbled hallway.

“Come on,” I say and we go to “my” door. I swipe my card and the door unlocks. I came here yesterday to make sure it was clean up to my standards and to put some food in the fridge and the pantry.

“Wow,” Saige says, coming in after me. “Yeah, this is definitely not what I thought of.” The best word to describe the place is sparse. Barely any furniture and what there is, is black and grey. No personal pictures and only a few photographs on the wall. I made sure to put up some Ansel Adams so there is a little bit of Sylas. The kitchen is all stainless steel and granite and the bedroom is also done in silver and black.

Saige walks across the living room to look out the enormous window that looks out over the city.

“Great view, though,” she says, speaking to me over her shoulder.

“That’s what sold me on the place. The view.” I’m not exactly talking about what’s outside the windows. She’s casual again, with just a pair of jeans, a loose top and her hair twisted into a knot on the very top of her head. Her face is free of makeup for now and her eyes are so unbelievably green they don’t look real.

“So is there anything I should know about?”

“Huh?” She’s been busy staring at the view and I’ve been busy staring at her.

“About going to your parents’ house. Is there anything I should know? I don’t want to commit a faux pas if I can help it, and I definitely don’t want to get lectured.”

She laughs and comes back over to me.

“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself. I’ve never seen you ruffled under any circumstances. My mother is usually so focused on telling me how much I’m disappointing her that she probably won’t even notice you. They were on their very best public behavior at the benefit.” I had the feeling. People are so much different when they are in their own homes and there isn’t an audience.

“Well, just let me know if I’m doing something wrong.”

“Will do,” she says, picking up her bags. “Bathroom?”

I point in the right direction and she marches off. I go to the bedroom and pull out my suit for the evening, along with my shirt, tie and undergarments. There’s a knock at the door as I’m pulling my shirt over my head. I’d shaved and showered before picking Saige up, so all I need to do is get dressed basically.

“Yeah?” Saige pokes her head in.

“What are you wearing?” I motion to the bed. She comes in and inspects the outfit.

“Okay. I just didn’t want to clash with you. I brought three dresses.”

“No wonder your bag is so heavy,” I say, shaking my head at her.

“Hey, it’s much more work being a girl. You have no idea.” My mother used to take such care with her makeup. It was mesmerizing to watch her slowly slick on her lipstick, making sure it was absolutely perfect.

“Can I see the choices? Since you’re allowed to see my outfit,” I say and she goes to get the candidates. She moves my suit over and sets each dress out beside it, like they’re a couple without people inside them.

The choices are a nude dress, a black one and a grey one with black panels on the sides.

“I usually wear black because it pisses my mom off. If she had it her way, I’d be dressed in any color but that.”

“Well, how about a compromise? The grey has black in it.” She nods.

“That’s what I was thinking. Okay, thank you. Oh, another question. Hair up or down?” I like it either way, but I’m sure he mother would want it up in a respectable bun.

“Down. Definitely down,” I say and she presses up on her toes to give me a kiss.

“Did you ever take dance?” I blurt out.

“I did ballet for a few years. On pointe and everything.” She pops herself up on just her toes like it’s absolutely nothing to defy gravity that way. Her arms go up and she poses. She has a dancer’s body.

“Why do you ask?” she says, coming down and pointing one foot out in front of her.

“Just wondering.” I shrug it off and she picks up the black and grey dress.

“I’ll be back.” She skips off and I go back to getting dressed.

S
aige doesn’t take as long as I thought she would to get ready. When she finally walks out of the bathroom she’s transformed. Her eye makeup is a little more reserved than normal, but her lips are, and always will be, red.

“You like?” she says, twirling on her toes with her arms above her head.

“You look quite respectable to me.”

“And that will still not be enough for my mother. But you look really nice,” she says, tugging on my red silk tie.

“I thought I’d be a little daring tonight,” I say. She pulls me down and I think she’s going to kiss me, but she pulls back at the last second.

“Lipstick,” she says, pointing to her lips. “After the dinner, we can mess it up. But not before.” I agree, but I really don’t want to. I want to march her back to the bedroom and say fuck her parents and stay here. But I’ll get her later, so I have that at least to look forward to.

I just have to get through the next few hours.

I
t’s amazing what you can find online if you look hard enough. When I’d first taken on Mr. Beaumont, Cash had found pictures of the interior and exterior of their house. They’d bought it six years ago and the pictures from the real estate listing were still lurking around in the back room of the internet.

The place is impressive, as it should be. It was built with dirty, bloody money.

Saige makes a face as I pull into the circular driveway.

“I hate coming here.”

“Why?”

“Because this house is just so… Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I mean, I know it’s technically my family’s house, but it just seems like a bit much, don’t you think?” I agree with her more than she can possibly know.

“Well, your father has worked hard for his money and I guess he decides how he spends it.” She frowns a little as I turn the car off. I stopped on the way to get some flowers for her mother, white lilies at Saige’s suggestion, and I grab them out of the backseat before going around to help Saige.

“You ready?” she says, straightening my tie.

“Absolutely.” I smile at her and we walk toward the front door.

I ring the doorbell and a maid answers it. She’s not in a full uniform, but it’s easy to tell what her job is.

“Hello, Martha,” Saige says, giving the woman a warm smile.

“Good evening, Miss Saige, Mr. Brand. Please come in.” She steps back and even though I’ve seen pictures of the foyer, it’s still a visual punch.

Opulence. Excess. Money dripping from every surface.

“It’s a bit much,” Saige says in my ear as Martha leads the way to what I assume is going to be a sitting room.

Saige’s parents are clearly very into gold and warm colors because they’re splashed everywhere. It’s like they’re trying to say “We’re rich, just look at our house!” It’s… definitely too much. And it makes me sick.

Martha leads us past an enormous set of stairs and into a large sitting room filled with what look like extremely uncomfortable chairs and couches. There’s a fireplace at each end and the windows reach all the way to the ceiling.

“We’re here,” Saige calls and her parents turn around. They’re at the other end of the room. Her mother hands her father a drink from a little cart as he sits in front of the fireplace on one of the gold-upholstered chairs. He stands when he hears Saige’s voice.

“It’s nice to see you again so soon, Quinn,” he says, setting his drink down and holding his hand out. I shake it and then present the flowers to her mother.

She offers her appreciation, but the ice in her smile doesn’t melt. This woman is cold, cold, cold. Saige is nothing like either of her parents.

“Can I get either of you a drink?” she says, sweeping her hand toward the cart.

“Jack on the rocks if you have it,” I say. It might not be the fanciest drink, but I need it right now.

“Saige?” Bridgette says, turning to her daughter as she uses a set of gold tongs to drop ice cubes in a glass for me.

“The same,” she says with a little smile. Her mother shoots her a glare and she sighs.

“Fine. Glass of pinot.” Her mother nods, as if that was the response she wanted all along.

“So, Quinn,” Beaumont says to me as Bridgette hands me my drink and I take a bracing sip. “You seem to be very interested in my daughter.” The reminder of his threat is unspoken, but I get the message loud and clear.