Beneath the Surface (17 page)

Kyran moved his hand to her ass and gave it a light squeeze before fisting the fabric of her skirt. He devoured her neck with ferocity. Dale’s body flamed, every cell tuned into Kyran’s frequency. She had so much to say to him, so many questions to ask, and yet she let him carry her away.

She allowed every touch, kiss, and lick to tumble her into the heady void of arousal. And she enjoyed every second of it.

Dale bit his earlobe, making him hiss. He gripped her ass cheeks and pulled her closer to his body. She felt his erection press against her through the thick denim of his jeans. It was a silent demand. Hearing it loud and clear, she struggled with the button fly of his jeans, and fumbled when her nerves got the best of her. It wasn’t like in the movies where they popped open. No, she struggled to get the damn buttons through the holes.

Kyran chuckled and pulled away from her neck. He frowned when he saw the look in her eyes. When she didn’t respond, he squeezed her ass.

“It’s nothing,” she said, desperate for him to continue his seduction.

“If it’s nothing, you’ll have no problem telling me. Will you?” Kyran’s voice was clipped but soft. Dale surmised that she hadn’t pissed him off totally . . . not yet, anyway.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I said I missed you. You said you missed this.” She motioned between them. “The sex.”

A smirk played across his swollen lips and his eyes glistened. “I won’t lie to make you feel better. No matter how much I missed you.”

Elated, Dale widened her eyes. “You did?”

Kyran nodded and kissed the tip of her nose. “It was rather ridiculous to be honest. I longed for you almost as much as I longed for the club.”

“You needing a fight?”

He almost groaned. “Dear Lord, yes.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I need to now, so that you can bottle it and use it to drive you in the ring.”

He quirked a solitary brow. “Should I panic?”

She took his hand and led him toward the couch. “I think I need to tell you about Taylor.”

His teeth snapped together and he placed some distance between them.

“Go ahead.”

Dale began to explain, wringing her hands in her lap.

“I’m not sure where to start.” She paused. “He’s a mess. Most days he’s only in the office for a couple of hours. Your dad has called the office looking for him. I didn’t have a clue where he was, so I lied and covered for him. There’s a stack of files on his desk that I need him to check urgently.

I’ve told him and he says he’ll do it, but I’m still waiting. They’re important, Ky. I even had to call the Dolteen lawyers yesterday. I told them we hadn’t received their contract and I needed them to send it over quickly.

They apologized, but it wasn’t really their problem because we already have the contract. It’s on the pile. It needs to be signed—like yesterday.

Losing that account could cost us thousands, not to mention the hit on our reputation.”

She couldn’t reveal everything, like the day he hadn’t turned up for an important client meeting or the fact that he couldn’t do something as simple as signing off the staff expense reports. She had some kind of loyalty toward the man who was technically her boss. Nevertheless, Dale gave Kyran enough so that he wouldn’t think she’d been hiding what had gone on.

“Was he in today?” Kyran tightened his fist in his lap.

“For about an hour. He looked horrendous. I mean it. I’ve never seen anyone look so bad. I’m worried about him.”

“You should be!” Kyran punched the side of the couch. “Because I’m going to fucking kill him when I get hold of him. I trusted him with this place for a week—just seven days—and he fucks up. I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt and let him prove to me that he wasn’t a mess, and he fucking blew it. He never learns. Every damn time he fails.” He took a breath. “And he does it in spectacular style.”

“Kyran, please. I think you need to dig a little deeper. There’s more to this than him coming into work drunk or having a hangover.”

He stood up. “You don’t know him! He does this shit all the time, and I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces time and time again so that dear Daddy doesn’t get a whiff of it. I need to stop covering for him.”

“Why do you?” Dale whispered, starting to wish she’d kept quiet.

“Misplaced loyalty? I don’t know. Taylor and I have looked after each other since our mother died. I should have put a stop to his stupidity long ago, but I thought he would wise up in his own time. Grow up, you know.

I’d hoped being made CFO would do that. Clearly, I was wrong. Very wrong.”

Dale battled to think of a way to calm him down.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. I tried his cell before you e-mailed me, but it went straight to voice mail.”

“You should have told me earlier.” He pointed his finger at her. “I depended on you. Trusted you.”

“Whoa!” Dale stood up and glared at him.
“You
trusted
me
? When exactly did you do that? And why is it my fault that your brother is a mess?”

“You were here. We could have lost the contract, and after such a loss, our reputation would have been shit. All you had to do was call me, call Dad, whatever—just one call.”

“I’m not his babysitter.” Her head started to throb from the stress. Dale had been looking forward to his return but now her excitement had crumbled, nothing but ashes on the floor.

“Has my father been in?” He began pacing the floor, his sneakers leaving grooves in the carpet.

Dale shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Fuck!” he shouted and slammed his fist into the far wall. Dale flinched and wrapped her arms around her middle. She remained silent while he continued his verbal tirade. At one point he tried calling his brother, but when he received no response, he tossed the phone onto the couch beside her.

Dale tried to interrupt him to get him to see reason, but her protests fell on deaf ears. Kyran was far too annoyed. She hated the way he’d flipped— from happy and sexy to aggressive and unreachable. She wasn’t scared.

Dale had seen him many times in such a state, only his violence had been directed at his opponent. He was angry, not abusive.

“I need to find him. I have to fix this. Did he say where he was going?

At all?”

Dale shook her head again, stood up, and walked over to the door. She didn’t bother making an excuse as to where she was going. She didn’t raise her voice so he could hear her either. “I’ll go and see if I can track him down. Maybe he has a meeting or something.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, reaching for his cell instead. Dale knew a rejection when she saw one; she felt it, too, as her heart sank to her stomach. It took every ounce of strength she had not to cry. She walked back to her desk, and after unlocking her desktop, she scrolled through her e-mails in the vain hope that she’d missed something and Taylor was out to lunch with colleagues. All she found was an empty schedule and no reason for Taylor to be out of the office.

Dale found nothing that alluded to Taylor’s whereabouts. She tried his cell again, his apartment, and started to go through his list of contacts. She had no idea where he would go to drink or where he’d go to hide from life in general.

The staff began to filter in from their lunch breaks, and inquired about Dale’s tear -stained cheeks. She wiped them away, not realizing she was |

crying until it was too late. She hated that one man could bring her down so hard and so fast, hated that it mattered so much to her.

“Dale?”

She looked up to see Grace, Taylor’s receptionist, in front of her desk.

Bracing herself for the older woman’s concern, Dale hummed in response.

“Did I see Mr. Reese arrive earlier?”

“Um, yes, but not in a work capacity. Do you need him?”

Grace smoothed her skirt before she began to fiddle with the buttons on her jacket. “There’s a problem with the bathroom—the larger one in reception. The door seems to be jammed. I wondered if Mr. Reese could perhaps open it.” She smiled. “He’s big enough.”

Dale frowned in confusion. Why wouldn’t Grace call maintenance?

“Grace?”

“I’m not here to tell tales, Dale. I think Mr. Reese should be the one to deal with the bathroom issue, that’s all.”

Pushing her chair back, Dale stiffened. Something was wrong.

“There’s more to it. What’s going on?”

She started to walk before Grace answered, the woman’s kitten heels clicking on the wood floor as she followed her. Dale’s stomach had begun to knot. The sense of foreboding seized in her chest when she faced the bathroom door, and before she tried to open it, she turned back to the older woman. “Tell me, please,” she said.

Grace’s cheeks flamed, and her chin wobbled as she opened her mouth and fought for the right words. “I s-saw the other Mr. R-Reese, Taylor, go in there—”

“When?” The hairs on Dale’s arms stood on end.

“A few hours ago. Dale? I don’t remember him coming out.”

“Kyran’s in his office.” She took a deep breath. “Go and get him.

Now.”

Dale was in a panic, and a lump was forming in her throat. No matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t dislodge it. She mustered her courage and pushed the handle of the door down, shoving the door with her shoulder at the same time. It budged a little, giving her hope that she could open it without Kyran’s help. She tried again and felt the door hit something. Dale gave one more forceful shove, and the door opened enough for her to squeeze through.

She blinked, unable to believe the sight before her. Dale began to gag from the smell; the stench of vomit stung her nostrils and burned the back of her throat. She clutched the wood of the door, on the verge of tears.

She heard footsteps behind her but didn’t turn to see who it was. All she could do was stare.

At Taylor.

His body was sprawled across the tile floor—vomit covered his hair and blood was seeping from his nose. White powder dusted his black shirt, along with the counter next to the sink.

For a fleeting second, Dale wondered if Kyran would listen to her now.

Kyran scrubbed his hand across his head for the hundredth time and shuddered. The image of his brother sprawled on the floor helpless replayed in his head and chilled his very bones. He doubted he would ever forget it, or ever lose the horror he’d felt at what had greeted him.

Dale had tried to block his view of his brother but it was in vain. The expression on her face had been his warning. At that point, he expected death, but thankfully, his brother was still breathing. Barely.

After that point, the time passed in a blur. Kyran could recall Grace calling and Dale cleaning away the vomit and blood. Dale kept checking Taylor’s pulse to make sure he was still alive. Tears rolled down her face; her makeup was a disaster. It had taken a will of steel for him not to wipe her cheeks clean.

Kyran’s head spun as he recalled all the times when they were younger—the times he had protected his brother or simple moments when they’d giggled in each other’s company. He felt sick. The thought of losing Taylor was just too much to comprehend. The whole situation hurt in a way he’d never experienced, and made a sucker punch down at Metro seem paltry in comparison.

Dale kept looking to him for answers even though he didn’t have them. She had warned him that Taylor needed help, that there was something wrong, so many times.

Kyran stared across the hospital waiting room at her. “Did you know?”

It was worded as a question but she heard the accusation in the harshness of his tone.

“I—”

“It’s a simple question, Dale. Did you know Taylor was snorting that shit?”

Dale opened her mouth, but he didn’t allow her to speak again.

“You warned me he needed me—that he needed help—so it’s a natural conclusion that you knew he was doing that.”

Dale shook her head “Not this. I thought he had a problem with alcohol, not drugs. I warned you because the signs were there but no one was taking any notice but me.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Am I really, Kyran? Look me in the eye and say that to me again.” She paused for a second. “You can’t, can you? Because I’m right. I spoke up. I told you so many times that there was something very wrong with your brother. I couldn’t make you care, so don’t shove your guilt on me.”

Kyran inhaled sharply, the urge to pound the shit out of the wall increased with every tick of the clock. He couldn’t look at her. His head told him she’d kept things from him while his fingers still itched to touch her. His body was at war with his mind.

Checking his watch, Kyran ground his teeth. He’d called his father before the paramedics had taken Taylor from the office, and he had yet to arrive. He'd been so angry earlier when Kyran had explained the details of the contract that Kyran wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t turn up at all.

“Mr. Reese?”

Kyran saw the doctor enter through the waiting room door. His stomach sank when he noted the grim set of his mouth. The room dissipated around him, and a buzzing began in his ears. He was vaguely aware of Dale linking her fingers with his. Kyran allowed the comfort and |

cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m Taylor’s brother. Our father should be here soon.”

Dale squeezed his hand.

“I’m Doctor Leighton. I’m in charge of Taylor’s care. Your brother is in a very serious condition. However, he’s stable.” Both Dale and Kyran sagged in relief. “We’ve sedated him, but we’ll need to discuss our use of narcotics on him.”

Kyran agreed, placed his arm around Dale’s shoulders, and held her close.

“We’ve checked his records—this isn’t the first time he’s been admitted due to his drug use. How long has he been addicted to narcotics?”

“I’m not sure. We thought it was alcohol and he’d stop, but never . . .

he . . . well, he found ways to conceal his habit.”

“As all addicts do.”

Kyran flinched at the words. They felt like a slap in the face. His brother was a drug addict. And he and his father had ignored every one of the signs. They'd figured it was too much partying, too much liquor. It made him sick to his stomach.