Caress Part Three (Arcadia Book 3) (5 page)

If she already knew--

I got off the phone with Feeney a short time later. In the
silence of my office, I thought of the woman I had held in my arms, with whom
I’d shared the pleasures of raw sex, tender love making, roller coaster rides,
bagel breakfasts, and so much more.

What did I know about her for certain?

Emma loved her father. At least, she had and she didn’t
strike me as the sort of person who could stop loving easily.

Whittaker was still alive.

He could be in New York.

She was hiding something. From me.

The possibility that she could be in league with her father
felt like a serrated knife twisting through me. A dark part of my soul was
ready to believe it but the rest knew better.

Emma wasn’t the risk here. On the contrary, she was the
person likely to be in the greatest danger. Whatever his motives, I was dead certain
that Whittaker wouldn’t hesitate to make use of his daughter no matter what that
resulted in for her.

A desperate sense of urgency clawed at me. Abruptly, I stood
with such force that my desk chair rolled back and hit the wall hard. I ignored
it and headed for the door.

“You’re alive.”

The words were wrenched from me. Staring at my father, I
could scarcely breathe. My chest felt as though it was in a vise. One that was
squeezing my heart to pulp.

He stood in front of me, solid and real, a little thinner
than I remembered but otherwise not looking much worse for the wear despite
having been on the run for three years.

Face to face with him, I had to wonder how I’d ever believed
that a man so clever and resilient was dead. Oh, right, the video of him
blowing his brains out. The nightmares that seeing it had induced. The three
years of silence and grief. And shame. Being the target for the blame that
rightly should have been directed at him.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

There was a time when I would have given almost anything for
this moment. I’d fantasized about seeing my father again, dreamed of it, hoped
and prayed for it. I’d long since lost count of how many times I’d seen someone
in a crowd and thought for a moment that it was him, my spirits suddenly
leaping only to crash back down again.

Eventually, I came to accept that he was gone and, just as
critically, what he had done. Unable to afford any sort of therapy, I read
books about post traumatic shock and recognized some of the emotional and
physical symptoms in myself. Understanding that had helped, although I’d been
numb to a very great extent until Lucas came into my life.

Thanks to him, I was no longer merely surviving. I was
actually living.

Or I had been. Without warning, the dark past reared up like
a massive, terrifying wave that threatened to pull me under again.

“I know this is a surprise,” my father said. He sounded remarkably
calm given the circumstances. “But we have to talk.”

“A
surprise
?” Bile rose in my throat. I could barely
speak for choking on it. “I thought you were dead! You let
me believe
that. For three years! And now you suddenly reappear--?”

“For god’s sake,” he hissed, “keep your voice down! We can’t
talk here, let’s--”

He reached for my arm but I pulled back before he could
touch me.

“I’m not going anywhere with you! How can this be happening?
Why
is it?”

I didn’t even try to keep the suspicion out of my voice.
Better he should know how the mere sight of him affected me.

His face hardened but an instant later, his expression
changed again. He looked deeply concerned and utterly sincere.

Had he always had that chameleon-like quality and I just
hadn’t noticed before? If he had, that would certainly explain how he’d been
able to trick so many people into trusting him. Including me.

Softly, he said, “I’m taking an enormous chance being here,
Emma. I’m doing it for your sake. Please, hear me out.”

In that moment, I wanted nothing so much as to walk away. But
he would still be there, he would still exist. And until I knew what he wanted,
I would never be able to rest.

“Five minutes,” I said, all but spitting the words out.
“That’s it.”

He grimaced and for a moment I thought he was going to
reprimand me as he had when I was a child, only perhaps without the restraint
he had shown then. But he only nodded.

“All right, come with me.”

The alley we were standing in cut straight through to the
next block. At the far end, a large black SUV was waiting. Two men stood beside
it. A third was behind the wheel. Nearby, another pair of guards kept watch
along the street. A second vehicle was parked near them.

All the men were young and very fit. From the bulges under
their jackets, I guessed that they were armed but their faces gave away
nothing. I looked at my father, who shrugged, as though the explanation of all
the security should be obvious.

 “I’m a wanted man, Emma. I have to take precautions.”

Of course, he did. But he’d left me without any way of doing
the same. Alone, exposed, and vulnerable.

And now he was back. I had to be out of my mind to listen to
him for even a moment. I thought once again of just walking away. But curiosity
and the small, treacherous hope that he might be able to explain his actions
got the better of me.

I slid into the backseat of the SUV, clasped my hands in my
lap, and waited for him to speak.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“You’re wasting time. Say whatever you came to say before
I’m out of here.”

My father raised a brow but he didn’t argue. “Very well. You’ve
become involved with Lucas Phelps.”

Whatever I’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. I stared at him
in surprise. “How do you know that?”

His smile was chiding. “You don’t honestly think that I
haven’t been keeping an eye on you?”

I stared at him dumbfounded. “You’ve had me watched?” I had
been so alone the past three years. Or at least, I’d thought that I was. All
that time my father was present in some sense, watching over me?

Was I supposed to be touched by that? To take it as proof of
his love?

“I understand that these years haven’t been easy,” he said.
“But it’s important for you to know how immensely proud I am of you. You’ve
shown such courage and fortitude.”

He looked and sounded utterly sincere. I couldn’t fathom
that. How could this be happening?

 “Believe me,” he went on, seemingly obliviousness to my
emotional distress. “I wanted to wait, to find the right time to come back into
your life, when it would be safest. But this business with Phelps has forced my
hand.”

Cautiously, feeling my way, I said, “It’s true that Lucas
and I are acquainted.”

A look of disappointment flitted across my father’s face. I
remembered that expression all too well. I’d seen it any time I did something
that displeased him.

That hadn’t been often. His approval had meant everything to
me and I’d done all I could to earn it. But I’d been a child then and I most
certainly was not any longer. In a sense, he had seen to that.

He responded with the measured patience that I also recalled.

“Come now, Emma. Phelps somehow convinced you to move back
into the Arcadia, into the same apartment where he’s staying. And yesterday, I
saw the photos taken of the two of you at a gala. It’s very obvious that you’re
far more than merely
acquainted
.”

For a man normally given to only the mildest and most
controlled reactions, his distaste couldn’t have been clearer.

I fought a blush. This was absurd. I was a grown woman
speaking to a parent who had betrayed and abandoned me. He had no right whatsoever
to sit in judgment of anything I did.

“It’s none of your business,” I said flatly.

“On the contrary. It’s the reason why I’ve taken the risk of
coming here. Phelps is a very dangerous man.”

His presumption angered me enough that I snapped back at
him. “To you, maybe. Not to me.”

My father’s customary control slipped a notch. “You’re a
fool if you think that,” he snapped. “He’s utterly ruthless when it comes to
getting what he wants. There’s nothing he won’t do and no one he won’t use.”

I stared at him in disbelief, astonished that he would have
the nerve to say any such thing. He was the ruthless one, capable of deceiving
thousands of people to get what he wanted with no thought for the consequences
they would suffer. For him to try to defame the man who had refused to be
another of his victims was just one more lie.

“All Lucas did was fight back when you and others tried to
take over his family’s company!”

My father paled at my defiance. Or was it that I had
revealed how much Lucas had told me and that I believed him?

 With shaking hands, he opened a compartment in the backseat
of the SUV, revealing a small bar. He poured a finger of single malt whiskey
into a cut crystal glass tumbler.

I watched in surprise as he knocked it back in a single
swallow. To the best of my knowledge, he’d always been a very light drinker,
certainly not given to imbibing during the day. If that had changed in the last
three years, surely there would have been physical signs of such dependency?

But he looked in good health generally, apart from signs of
fatigue that could be explained by worry for his personal safety. Or even by
jet lag.

I had no idea how far he’d traveled to reach New York. A few
hundred miles across the border from Canada? Or half-way around the world?

It didn’t matter. The only question I cared about was what
had really compelled him to come.

Or who?

As he set the empty tumbler down, a shudder ran through my
father. He took a deep breath. I could see that he was fighting for control.

When the mask of calm confidence was once more in place, if
a bit askew, he said, “While he was telling you that, did Phelps happen to
mention that the money he used to fend us off came from a Russian crime lord?”

Under the circumstances, I would have been smarter to
contain my disbelief but I couldn’t manage it.

Coldly, I said, “I’m aware that Lucas deals with all sorts
of people but he draws the line at anyone involved in criminal activity.”

My father shook his head, as though my naivety dismayed him.
“Yuri Volkov is one of those who took advantage of the turmoil Russia has gone
through in recent decades to make himself obscenely rich. He can try all he
likes to transform himself into a British gentleman but he’s still nothing more
than a thug and a mobster.”

I had no idea who he was talking about. Shaking my head, I
demanded, “What does Yuri Vol-whatever have to do with any of this?”

Grimly, my father said, “Lucas Phelps borrowed money from
Volkov, then used it to outflank those of us who were trying to take over his
company. He did that in a particularly aggressive and brutal way, quietly
buying the debt that we’d incurred investing in various other development
properties. By the time we realized what he was doing, it was too late.”

His voice trailed off. He sounded tired suddenly, as though
the weight of remembered defeats was too much to endure. Yet there he was,
sitting in the SUV, surrounded by armed protectors, well dressed, well
nourished, and above all, alive.

I didn’t want to remember the cold, dismal little rooms that
I’d inhabited and all those damn Ramen noodles. Far worse had been the slurs
and cruelties, and the outright threats. Resentment rose in me. I forced it
down, determined not to sink to any such level.

Oblivious to my thoughts, he went on. “When Phelps called
that debt in, he knew that we’d be in no position to repay it. He bankrupted us
and ended up acquiring the same properties for pennies on the dollar. That’s
how he got to where he is today.”

He grimaced. “It’s perfectly possible to make millions
agenting high end real estate. But to acquire the kind of wealth that Phelps
commands takes a considerably different sort of mindset, one that stops at
nothing to succeed.”

I’d heard rumors of Lucas’ success in the business media but
that was all they were--rumors. With his company privately held, no one knew
for sure what he was worth or how he had gotten that way.

Not that it made any difference. I wasn’t inclined to
believe anything that my father said. His claims were outrageous, not to say
bizarre.

 “So you’re saying that rather than lose his company to you
and your friends, Lucas partnered with a Russian crime lord?”

“Briefly,” my father admitted grudgingly. “He made so much
that he was able to pay Volkov back in record time with interest and keep total
control of his company.”

Turning in the back seat of the SUV, he stared at me
intently.

“That’s my point, Emma. Phelps is utterly ruthless. He was
even able to do business with an international mobster and come out the winner.
He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. That includes using you to get to
me, no matter how much you get hurt in the process.”

Ignoring the sudden tightness in my throat, I asked, “Why
would he bother? What makes you of such interest to him?”

My father shrugged. “Merely winning isn’t enough for him. He
isn’t satisfied until he crushes an opponent into the ground.”

No longer attempting to conceal his bitterness, he said, “And
he’s ambitious beyond reason. Bringing me to what is so laughingly called
justice would put some of the most powerful people in this city and beyond
forever in his debt. People who were happy enough when I was making big money
for them but who turned their backs on me at the first sign of trouble.”

“I see…” The words were a placeholder intended to buy me a
few moments as I struggled to come to terms with the inescapable reality that
confronted me.

My father appeared to have no conception of the harm he had
done to others. Certainly, he had no concern about it. On the contrary, he was
focused solely on himself.

Some of those he’d defrauded were so wealthy that they were
merely inconvenienced and angered by their losses. But other people had seen
their entire way of life destroyed, some to such an extent that they weren’t
able to go on living.

Yet he could brush all that aside as though he’d done
nothing more than make an honest mistake.

Abruptly, my patience dissolved. Without waiting any longer
for him to get around to telling me, I asked. “What do you want?” Exactly.”

He looked surprised. “Isn’t that obvious? You’re my
daughter, Emma. I love you. I’ve risked everything to come back for you.”

For a moment, I thought that I must have misheard him. He
couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like?

Struggling to contain my shock, I said, “You want me to go
with you?”

“Of course, I do! I’ve wanted it every day that we’ve been
apart. But I had to be certain that I could provide the kind of life you
deserve. It’s taken time to acquire the right allies and secure my own
position. This business with Phelps convinced me that I couldn’t wait any
longer.”

He glanced out the window at the two men standing guard
beside the SUV before looking back at me. “You’ll have everything you can dream
of, Emma. Starting with a new identity and the freedom to get on with your own
life, to create your own future untouched by the past. Isn’t that exactly what
you want?”

There was a time when that would have been a dream come true
for me. The chance to start fresh. And to still have the father I had loved so
much and trusted so completely.

Now it felt like a nightmare.

All but choking, I said, “I can’t just go with you.”

Surely, he didn’t expect me to do so right then? I glanced
out the passenger window at the men hired to do his bidding. How far would he
go for what he wanted?

Quickly, I added, “People will wonder if I just disappear.
They’ll ask questions. Lucas will certainly and as you said, he won’t stop.”

To my great relief, my father nodded. “I understand that all
too well, my dear. We have to act carefully. But we don’t have much time.”

He reached over and patted my hand. His own felt chilled and
a little clammy.

“I’m counting on you to be my good, clever girl. My star.
Just as you’ve always been.”

The bile was back in my throat. I swallowed it down. In a
strange sort of way, I felt that I had to protect not only myself but the child
I had been. The little girl who was still there, deep inside me, bewildered and
frightened by what was happening.

The older, wiser me felt no such confusion. As much as I
might wish otherwise, I couldn’t believe for a moment that my father had taken
the risk of returning to New York for my sake. But what else could have drawn
him?

The answer crashed through my mind.

The authorities had claimed all along that there was still
money missing, enough to make a difference in the lives of many of those who
John Whittaker had defrauded. It had been hidden so well that they never came
close to finding it but I knew full well that they hadn’t given up. I had the
impression that they never would.

If my father had come for the money, I could understand why
he wouldn’t want to leave any loose ends, including a daughter who had become
involved with a man he had every reason to hate and fear. How much smarter to
play on her sympathies while bribing her with the promise of a new life.

My heart clenched painfully. Assuming that I made it out of
the SUV, I could go to the authorities. It would be hard but I had no doubt
that it was the right thing to do.

But what would be the result? My father wouldn’t have so
many armed guards around him--those I could see and perhaps more that I
couldn’t--if he had any intention of allowing himself to be taken into custody.

Imagining the confrontation that would result if such an
attempt was made horrified me. Federal agents and local police could be injured
or worse. So could innocent bystanders. And in the end, any chance of
recovering the money would likely be gone forever.

Even more stomach churning was the certainty that if Lucas
got wind of what was happening, he would never agree to remain on the sidelines.
I’d heard enough to understand that my father wouldn’t hesitate to harm him. On
the contrary, he’d welcome the chance. He might even be trying to bring that
about.

A deep, dark chasm seemed to open suddenly at my feet. Staring
into it, I knew in an instant of overwhelming clarity what I had to do. As
difficult and painful as it was, I couldn’t allow Lucas to be harmed simply
because he had come into my life and allowed me into his.

But the only way to keep him safe was to deceive the
deceiver, the very man who had proven himself to be one of greatest liars and
dissemblers of the century. I had no confidence in my ability to do so but I
had to try all the same.

Softly, I said, “A new life is exactly what I want.”

My words rang with conviction because they were true. I did
want a new life, just not the one that my father was offering. My hopes and
dreams, my greatest yearnings all lay with the very man he wanted to take me
from. And who I was determined to protect from him no matter what the cost.

John Whittaker took a deep breath, released it slowly, and
gave me his best, most charming smile. The one that had told me that all was
right in the world and that it always would be.

“I knew that I could count on you,” he said.

A flick of his finger drew the attention of one of the
guards. The door on my side of the vehicle was opened.

My father reached into his pocket, took out a cell phone,
and handed it to me. “You’ll hear from me tomorrow,” he said as I got out. “Early.
I’ll let you know then what arrangements I’ve made.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him to tell me now but
I didn’t dare do anything to rouse his suspicions. Instead, I looked at my
father, straining to see the man I still wanted to believe that he had been.

I couldn’t find any trace of him. The man in front of me was
a stranger. Courteous and sincere on the surface, but underneath--? I wasn’t
sure what was there but I suspected that I would be better off not knowing.

 “You won’t need to bring very much with you,” he added. “Just
make sure that you don’t leave behind anything that you really care about.”

I nodded quickly, anxious to be gone. “Of course.”

As soon as I got out of the SUV, one of the guards got in, riding
shotgun next to the driver. The others got into the vehicle parked nearby.

I stood on the sidewalk, watching as they pulled into
traffic, turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

Only then did a low moan escape me. Sagging against the nearest
wall, I dragged in air as I struggled against the wave of combined anger and
grief that threatened to drive me to my knees.