Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little Secrets #1) (20 page)

“Now,” he says, his voice full of amusement. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
 

He walks over to the corner, and picks up a baseball bat. He slaps his hand against it a few times, making a sickening thud. I struggle against the restraints, but it’s no use. Privya walks up to me, and yanks on my hair, pulling my head back violently.
 

“Where should I start first? Leg?” He taps the bat against my shin. “Rib?” The body of it rolls across my side.
 

“Fuck you,” I say, because at this point, why not?
 

He rears back, ready to strike what I’m sure is going to be an incredibly painful blow. I close my eyes, because I don’t want to see it coming.
 

A gunshot surprises me, and I wince, expecting to feel the sharp pain of the shot at any moment, but it never comes.
 

When I open my eyes, Privya falls at my feet, eyes wide open.
 

Dead.
 

* * * * *

“Sam?” I ask, relieved. It’s always nice to see a familiar face when a hitman was getting ready to slam you in the body with a baseball bat. Especially if that familiar face belongs to a bodyguard. I’ll never fight Caleb about that again. Oh god, Caleb.

“Hi Mia,” he says, with a tight, stressed smile.

“Are you hurt? Where’s Caleb? Is he okay?”
 

“I’m not hurt,” he assures me, walking behind me so that he can undo my bindings. “Caleb’s taking care of Jack Kemp.”
 

“What do you mean he’s taking care of Jack Kemp!”
 

“Mia,” Sam says calmly. “It’s going to be okay. Let me get you untied.”
 

“How did you know where I was?”
 

“Mister Simmons called me and told me to be on the lookout, because he was worried you were going to do exactly what you did.”
 

“Of course he did,” I say with a sigh. “Are you the one who shot at Privya?”
 

He nods. “I was standing too far away. Mister Simmons wanted me to stay at street-level instead of posting a guard at your door. I was in the process of assembling a team so that we could have more coverage, but I wasn’t fast enough, apparently.”
 

“It’s not your fault, Sam. I’m the idiot here.”
 

“When the person I’m supposed to be protecting gets drugged and shoved into the back of a van, that’s my fault.”
 

“But you found me.”
 

“Mister Simmons is the one who found out where you were, Mia. I just happened to be close enough to you to get here first. Thankfully, since I’m not entirely sure Mister Simmons knows how to shoot a gun.”

Yes, that’s right. Sam just shot Privya. And
killed
him. Not that I’m going to mourn his death or anything, but I am sorry that Sam had to take a life to save mine.

“I’m sorry you had to do that, Sam.”
 

“I’m not.”
 

He finally gets my arms undone, and I could scream from the pain once they’re released. Sam runs his hands up and down my aching muscles, but it doesn’t help, not really.
 

“Yeah, that’s going to hurt for a while. Nothing I can do about that. I’m sorry.”
 

“It’s okay,” I manage. “How long have I been down here, anyway?”
 

“The better part of a day,” he replies. “How much do you remember?”
 

When he gets my legs undone, they don’t ache anywhere near as badly as my arms do, thankfully.
 

I shrug. “Nothing, really. I had just woken up when you came in. Whatever he drugged me with must’ve been really strong.”
 

“And I can see he got you in the cheek,” Sam says, reaching out toward my face. He doesn’t touch me, and I’m glad for it. I don’t think I could take any more pressure on my cheek. The throbbing is out of control at this point. “Piece of shit.” Sam kicks Privya’s dead body, and I turn my head.
 

He lifts his wrist to his mouth, and mumbles something into what looks like a watch.
 

“What’s going to happen here?” I ask.
 

“We’re going to take care of it.” Sam turns his head, and waves in two gentlemen wearing dark suits.
 

Sam helps me up, wrapping his arm around me to keep me steady, as he gives instructions to two guys who must be members of his security team.
 

“Come on,” he says, leading me toward the door. “Mister Simmons is anxious to see you.”
 

Sam leads me outside into the blazingly bright sun. I’ve been in that dark room for so long that it actually hurts to open my eyes. I hold my hand up against my forehead, trying to block out the never-ending brightness, and squint. I look around, and…god, Privya took me way out of the city. We’re standing in front of what looks like an abandoned strip mall. It’s so old that all the store windows have been busted out, and there’s broken plaster everywhere.
 

I want to take ten showers to wash this entire experience off of me.
 

At the far edge of the parking lot, an SUV takes the corner without slowing down, wheels screeching against the hot asphalt. It’s kicking up dust and dirt in its wake, and it makes its way along the side walk, the back door opening before it even comes to a stop.
 

Caleb covers the space between us in two long strides, and gathers me up in his arms, crushing me against his chest.
 

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asks loudly, breathlessly. He sounds like he’s on the verge of completely losing it, like he’s hanging on by the thinnest string.
 

The adrenaline I was feeling earlier is gone, and exhaustion along with the full weight of what just happened to me hits all at the same time. All I can do is cling to Caleb, and finally let all the tears and the fear that I had been holding in just…come out. I’m crying almost hysterically, my breath hitching in my chest, and the more I try to calm down, the worse it gets.
 

When I finally get to the point where I can manage to speak, I say, “I didn’t want him to hurt you, that’s all I was thinking. I didn’t want you to get involved, and I didn’t want to lose you.”
 

“And how do you think I would’ve dealt with losing you like that? What do you think that would’ve done to me?”

“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I’m so sorry.”
 

He tilts my head up, and kisses me. There’s a desperate, needy edge to it that surprises me, because we’re not alone. Usually, in front of other people, Caleb keeps it chaste.
 

Not today. Not after everything that’s happened.
 

When he finally pulls away, he runs his hands up and down my arms. He takes a step back and gives me a once-over, maintaining contact all the while. It’s like he’s scared to let go, like if he lets go, he thinks I’ll disappear again.
 

“Shit,” he says, gently skimming the backs of his fingers along my aching cheek. It’s swollen again, I know it. I can feel my heartbeat pounding beneath the skin there. “Are you okay? We need to get you to a doctor.”
 

“Can we just…” I take my hand and place it over his. “Can we not right now?”
 

Caleb wraps me in his arms again, and rocks me a little. His lips press against the crown of my head. “Sure,” he replies. “I understand. I just want you to know that no one can hurt you, okay? Not now, not ever.”
 

I lift my head back, and look into his eyes. “What did you do?”
 

“I got involved,” he replies, and he’s almost defiant about it. “And I’m still here.”
 

There’s a commotion behind me, with Sam and some other guys. Caleb turns my head against his chest, and I wonder if Privya’s dead body is back there somewhere. Trying to preoccupy myself, I catch sight of Caleb’s busted-up knuckles and bruised hand.
 

“What happened?” I ask.
 

“Come on,” he says, leading me toward the SUV. “We can talk about it at home.”

Home.

That sounds really good right about now, and I’m beginning to realize that it means something different to me now than it used to.
 

* * * * *

In the warmth of Caleb’s apartment, he and I are cuddled up together on the couch. I’m in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, my hair still damp from the long shower that we shared not too long ago. Caleb took his time washing my hair, and washing my body, making me feel treasured, and loved, and safe. Two half-empty cups of hot chocolate are sitting on the coffee table. Caleb made a batch after I made an offhanded comment that my mother used to make it for me when I wasn’t feeling well as a child.
 

My arms are wrapped around Caleb’s middle, my ear pressed against his chest, where I can feel the steady thrumming of his heartbeat. He’s holding a bag of ice against my cheek, and I’m holding one across his swollen, busted-up knuckles.
 

“I’m so angry with you, I almost can’t see straight,” he says, pulling me closer to him, as he plants a kiss on the top of my head. “That you would take off after I explicitly asked you not to-”

“Caleb,” I say sharply. I push myself up, ready to argue with him, because haven’t we already had this conversation once? The one where I let him know that he doesn’t get to tell me what to do?
 

“It’s not about me telling you what to do, Mia. It’s about the two of us being a team, figuring things out together. I know you were scared, but-”

“I was worried that if Kemp or Privya knew how much you meant to me, that one or both of them would use you to get to me. I didn’t want you getting wrapped up in it, or doing something stupid to get me out of that mess.”
 

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you think I’m stupid,” he says, but there’s a teasing undertone to it that makes me smile.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, but as I think I’ve demonstrated fairly well today, love can make you do really stupid things. And I knew that once Kemp looked into you, that he’d go after your wealth, or your company in order to get you to make a deal to get me off the hook. He’s just that kind of sleaze bag.”
 

“Yes,” Caleb says, sighing. “He’s exactly that kind of sleaze bag.”
 

Oh no.
No
. “Caleb,” I sigh. “You can’t.”
 

I look up at him, and he’s actually giving me a cocky little grin.
 

“Lucky for you, I’m an amazing negotiator. And I don’t go into negotiations unprepared.”
 

“That’s what you did while you were out?” While I was sitting here, nervously following my tracking program, Caleb was one step ahead of me.
 

“Yes,” he says.
 

“What did you have to give him?”
 

“It’s not important.”
 

I sigh, and fight back the anger that’s rising up inside of me. “It’s important to me.”
 

“I’m being literal here,” he replies patiently. “What I had to give him isn’t important. Not in the grand scheme of things.”
 

“Oh god.” All I can think about is that he’s given up shares in his company, or something huge that’s going to come back to bite him later.
 

“Mia,” Caleb whispers, tilting my head up. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m telling you…it’s nothing that’s more important to me than you are. Besides, I told you. I’m an excellent negotiator.”
 

“It’s just…it’s a lot. For me, a person who came into your life and brought trouble right along with me.”
 

“No,” he says with a smile. “Brought happiness along with you.”
 

A wave of unexpected warmth floods my body, and I press a soft kiss against Caleb’s lips. “You make me happy, too.”
 

“What I need you to understand is that I didn’t do what I did out of some kind of overbearing need to protect you.”

I raise my brow, and he gives me a sheepish look.
 

“Okay,” he replies, smiling. “It’s not
just
about that.”

“What’s it about then?”
 

“I want you to be happy. You’d never be happy if you were running from somebody.”

That answer earns him another kiss. This one, it lingers.
 

“And you’re really not going to tell me what you agreed to?”
 

He shakes his head. “I didn’t agree to anything, really. Turns out, I know quite a few people who have done business with Jack Kemp, and he’s screwed over more than a couple of them. Not to sound like an asshole, but I’m five times the businessman he is, and ten times as rich. All the shit he pulled on those poor, unsuspecting people who couldn’t stand up to him? That doesn’t work on me. ”

He does sound like an asshole, but in a ridiculously hot kind of way. I decide not to tell him that, just to make my life easier in the future.
 

Caleb’s eyebrows scrunch together before he starts talking again, and his eyes get this distant, faraway look in them. “Getting him to tell me where you were, that was the most difficult part. I did have to…make some concessions to get that information, and I was more than willing to do that.” He looks down at me tenderly, and cups my cheek. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
 

I turn my head, and kiss the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry I scared you. I did it for what I thought was a really good reason at the time.”
 

“I know you did,” he says, nodding. He looks more like himself now. “I’m going to be mad at you about it for a really long time, though.”
 

“I know,” I admit quietly. “Does it mean anything if I tell you it won’t happen again?”

He nods. “It helps. It would mean more to me if you promised me that in the future, if you’re ever in any kind of trouble where you even consider doing something like you did with Kemp, that you’ll come to me before you do anything…”