Concealed Affliction (17 page)

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I hastily pull my shirt into place trying to think of what to say.

“Two things I’m going to say to you Becker. One is that Ryder Callaghan is nothing but my neighbor. Two, what he chooses to do or not do, finish or not finish, is not my business, or yours for that matter because he’s a grown man. You have a problem with that? Then you’re barking in the wrong direction.”

Sensing this man is not an immediate threat, I take my eyes off of him to grab my bag off the floor. I pull it over my shoulder, resting my hand on the lower part of the strap so it’s closer to my gun.

“Miss Davidson, I’ve known that man for a few years now. Not once has he ever turned down a job offer. That is until you came along.”

I shake my head in exasperation. 

“Once again, not my problem. You want him, he’s yours. I’m not holding him back, any more than you can force him to work for you.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a few steps closer. Not in a menacing way, but enough to tell me he means what he says and won’t stop speaking until he gets his point across. 

“Let me be clear
Elle
, his presence is essential to me at the moment. That cannot happen with you in the picture, as he has already proved.”

I huff out a breath.

“Like I said, I don’t control him. What is that you do anyway,
William?
”

I throw his first name back at him, as he did with mine. Since he has more pressing issues to deal with, he shrugs the jab off and continues.

“I can gather from your barbaric beating with that punching bag that you do not spend much time in front of a television or reading newspapers. You probably don’t spend much time in circles of higher stature either, judging by the ramshackle home you live in, and your measly life as a bartender.”

I’d love to throw my education, as well as my money in his face right now. But I don’t. I’m the bigger person here, and ultimately this man’s opinion of me doesn’t matter.

“Politics is a high stakes profession, image is everything. I’ve been a prominent figure in Chicago for many years now, but as with any line of work our aim is always higher. I need Ryder to help me achieve that.”

Chicago?

The hairs on the back of my neck come to attention once again as I try to piece together what little bit of information I have regarding the subject. But I realize I have virtually nothing. I just want to get away from him now and the quicker I finish this up, the sooner I can leave.

“Well William, there are plenty of G.I Joe’s running around this town. Head about two blocks west of here and I’m sure you’ll find someone to take a bullet for you.”

Becker shakes his head in a condescending way, studying me as if I’m no more than shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You misunderstand me, Miss Davidson. However, I suppose education was not your top priority, therefore I’ll make this easy for you to comprehend.
I
do not personally need Mr. Callaghan, however my lovely daughter does. You see, when I enter the public eye with my family, it isn’t easy for people to see past my daughter’s indiscretions. She is your age, and single, only much more intelligent if I do say so myself.”

Of course you would you self-righteous prick.

“The media in Chicago has taken a liking to the man that guards my back, and even more so when he was spotted out with my daughter. This pleases me Miss Davidson, and works very well in my favor. I would get the type of security his company provides, and he would keep Claudia from any more public indiscretions, since she is quite taken with Mr. Callaghan.”

I’m quick to snap back at him, not thinking it may give away the feelings I have but fail to acknowledge for Ryder.

“Perhaps Ryder doesn’t want your job, Becker? It’s also possible he’s not interested in your daughter. Ever think of that?”

If he could look anymore smug, he does.

“I always have eyes on my daughter, and judging by the amount of times I’m informed of her presence in his hotel room, I would suggest that’s not the case.”

I feel the proverbial kick in the gut as he delivers those words, but I don’t dare let them show on my face. I straighten my back, looking him directly in the eye and thanking the cold heart that takes residence in my chest.

“For the last time, I don’t control Ryder Callaghan, anymore than you control me. You want him? Go talk to him yourself. I won’t tell him to leave and work for you, and I won’t ask him to stay either. Good luck.”

I turn my back to him and head toward the door. I don’t quite get there before I hear commotion in the hallway. It swings open and I come face to face with a very pissed off Denny, and an even angrier looking man about half the size of him, and much older.

“You alright, Elle?”

Denny looks over my head and into the room, scowling toward Becker, apparently they know each other.

“Ah, Mr. Black. Pleasure to see you again,” the smug fucker behind me says.

I look up at Denny, taking in his stoic expression. If these two have met before, that means he would’ve known what type of work Ryder was up to when he went to Chicago. It also means he probably knows about Claudia Becker. That would explain his body language when I mentioned Ryder was in Chicago, while Denny and the rest of the crew were here in Jacksonville.

His loyalty lies with Ryder, not me.

I lift my head high once again, refusing to feel like the dumb bitch who doesn’t know what’s going on around her.

“Lock the door when you leave,” I say walking through the little bit of space there is, seeing as he takes up most of the doorway.

I don’t bother with any greetings to Mr. Becker's associate in the hallway, probably because I don’t believe he deserves it.

As I walk down the hallway, I think about how I always hated politics, and about how I hate them even more now. That arrogant prick Becker thinks he walks on water, and his associate out here in the hallway probably helps him stay afloat no matter what lengths they need to go to.

I jog down the steps and out toward the parking lot. I don’t do the usual check of my surroundings, just a quick scan before I haul ass across the lot and get into my truck. I shove the keys in the ignition and pull out of the stall buckling my seat belt on the way. I don’t want to stay around here any longer than I have to, and I don’t want to talk to that arrogant man again. I just need to move, go, get the fuck away from here and figure out what the fuck just happened up in that room, and what the hell Ryder is hiding from me.

I’m not a stupid woman. He was hiding Claudia fucking Becker. That’s what this was all about. I didn’t ask for Ryder’s half of the story when it came to Anna because I was leaving anyway. I knew I was, I used her as the excuse pushing me out sooner.

I don’t want to use Claudia as an excuse this time. Perhaps I should talk to Ryder about it. But for what? I know he lied! It was written on Denny and Becker’s faces. He could say he has nothing to do with Claudia, but how does that explain Chicago? Especially when I know there wasn’t an election going on.

It doesn’t explain it. And for once I don’t think Ryder can explain this either. My gut is never wrong and something here is telling me he fucked up.

I pull onto the freeway with my raging thoughts and loud music. I don’t drive in the direction of home, I just keep driving west.

Chapter Fourteen

I pull into the parking lot of a grocery store about an hour from home. I don’t know if what I’m about to do is incredibly stupid, or just plain fucking dumb.

My decision may be rash, and it may be because of the anger and other emotions I don’t care to admit running through my body. I hate that I feel anything right now, but in a sense I feel like I’ve just had so much shit dropped on me all at once that it’s time for a change.

I can’t keep running.

It’s impossible to hide from Ryder, and I have exhausted my energy in wanting to do so. Sometimes the best decisions are made under stress, not that I’m stressed right now. I’m just.....done?

Yes, that’s it.

I’m done.

The finality of that statement helps me breathe a little easier.

I reach into the glove box and pull out one of the burners I bought when I was in Indy. Yet another way to send them off the trail when it comes up nowhere near there. I open the dinosaur of a flip phone and punch in the number that’s burned into memory and wait while it rings.

“Miller,” his sleepy voice says over the line.

I smile a little at the thought of him with his guard down.

“You must be on the night shift.”

I hear rustling, most likely him throwing the covers off.

“Jayne?”

Hearing my given name sparks something inside and I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes.

“Yes, it’s me.”

My voice is quiet, my mood is somber. I’m mentally exhausted, tired of running. Tired of lying, tired of hiding. Tired of being lied to by people I thought I could trust. The voice from my past pulls me out of my head.

“You gave me a little hope Jay, last time we talked. I didn’t expect it to be so long before I heard from you again.”

I take in a deep breath and dive right in.

“Don’t cut me off when I tell you this, and please don’t jump to conclusions.”

He clears his throat. “Alright, I promise.”

Detective Miller is a good guy, I know that. But when I left he didn’t have a lot of pull in the department. He was respected, but so long as Braumer put his two cents in everywhere, Miller didn’t stand a chance in defending me.

So I ask him, “Andrew Roberts was adopted, right?”

“Yes, by his Grandmother.”

I brace myself for his reaction to my next question.

“How possible is it the reason only one set of DNA was found in the basement is because he’s an identical twin?”

There’s a long pause so I push on. “You there? Or are you calling the nuthouse from your landline?”

Miller stutters through the phone. “I- Fuck! ‘
Them
’, she kept saying ‘
them
’. Fuck, it makes sense now.”

He’s not talking to me, he’s talking to himself.

“You said ‘them’ Miller. What are you talking about?”

“I interviewed her! Or tried to. She wouldn’t talk much, strung out on god knows what.”

“
Who,
Miller?”

“Andrew’s biological mother! I tracked her down about a month after you left, off duty. Braumer didn’t see the need in investigating her, seeing as she apparently had no contact with him since the day she gave him up. I found her Jay, and she said ‘
I couldn’t keep them
’ over and over again. But in my mind I guess I thought she meant ‘
couldn’t keep him
’, or if she did say them I assumed she meant she gave up more than one child over the years. She was a mess Jayne, all ninety pounds of her. She practically lived on the street. I could barely understand a word she said, and then she just took off. Spooked and higher than a kite.”