Deliberate Deceptions: Hauberk Protection, Book 3 (8 page)

“That’s not our style.”

“Bullshit.” His gaze hardened. “You’ve been infiltrated, haven’t you? Harris is one of your guys, isn’t he?”

She turned her back on Troy and started running again. If he wanted to continue the conversation, he’d have to follow her. Which the bastard did, damn it.

“What? Didn’t like being questioned? Fine, you’ll have to answer Chad’s questions later.”

“I know.” God help her then.

“Here’s another question for you: why did you do this? Arrange to be placed in the same facility as him? Weir’s story could have served its purpose—we could have guarded you separate from him. But you guys manipulated us just so you two would be put together. Why is that?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, lady, it is. Miller is my friend and I don’t like people who playing fucking mind games with my friends.”

“Guess what, you don’t know everything about me. Or Chad. Or our marriage.”

“I know more than you think.”

“You know nothing but what you overheard when I was talking with Thalia.” Half the building had heard that argument.

“I know you ran away after accusing him publicly of having been responsible for the death of your daughter.”

She stumbled and had to grab onto a sapling to steady herself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t there but I know what you left behind. Chad’s a man with more dignity and honor than most men have these days. A man who was only trying to protect his family the best way he knew how, and you walked away from him when he needed you.”

“I was there for him while the press camped on our front lawn, taking pictures through the cracks in the blinds that got plastered over the internet for anyone and their brother to see. I lived with the headlines speculating if we were into sex games like those from Thalia’s club. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be the butt of night show monologue jokes when a video of you and your husband having sex goes viral?” She still hadn’t figured out how they’d filmed that footage. “I lived with the neighbors who gave us sideways glances every time we left our front door, with those who didn’t bother with glances but with outright suggestions of what they wanted me to do for them. You weren’t there when I discovered my co-workers were passing around Photoshopped pictures of me or hear the snickers and suggestions when I walked past them.”

She whirled away from him and stared at the trees swaying overhead. Her body quivered, torn between wanting to race along the path, to put as much space between her and Troy as she could, and decking the smug bastard. “You weren’t there when the press followed us to the cemetery to visit Emily’s grave on her first birthday.” What should have been her first birthday.

“Do you know how it felt to have to watch the news showing your daughter’s gravesite being trampled by press who didn’t give a damn about respect? To find graffiti and damage done to her gravestone the next day?” She forced herself to face him again. “I had to deal with the catcalls and hate mail accusing us of being single-handedly
 
responsible for 9/11. I was there for the death threats. And the bomb threats. Me. Not you. So don’t you dare judge me.”

“No, I wasn’t there.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but the intensity in his gaze, his white-knuckled fists, told her he was barely hanging on to his own temper. “But Chad was. And you let him think it was all his fault when it wasn’t.”

“I didn’t.” She closed her eyes and swayed. She had. Which was one of the reasons she was here, wasn’t it?

“I know what you told him, Lauren. I also know what really happened.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t have a fucking clue.” Only her therapist knew what really happened. And Cooper. And Harris if he’d gotten into her psych files. So much for doctor/patient confidentiality.

Troy clamped his hands on her shoulders, ensuring her attention. “All Hauberk employees have to have regular psychiatric evaluations. Even the managers. Chad thinks you hold him responsible for not being able to save your daughter. Apart from his decision to protect his sister, he thinks that’s why you ran from him.”

She resisted the urge to press her fingers to her mouth in horror. Did Chad truly believe she thought him responsible? “He did everything he could. I don’t blame him.”

Troy stepped closer, staring down at her like a judge and jury ready to pronounce sentence. “I’ve read your reports too.”

“No. You couldn’t have. Those are sealed and kept in…” Dear God, had it been Troy who had broken into the Dr. Brewer’s files? Not Harris?

“You think you’re the reason Emily’s dead.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “That if you’d just said something about what you’d been worrying about, if you’d talked to your doctor or her pediatrician you could have saved her. You think you knew there was something wrong with her, didn’t you?”

“No!” Except Troy echoed what she’d wondered all this time so her denial lacked conviction. Why else had she been so obsessive about checking on Em all those months?

Grief knifed through her as sharply as it had when she’d cradled her daughter’s lifeless body in her arms. If it hadn’t been for Troy’s hold on her, she’d have dropped to her knees.

Damn it. She’d locked that guilt away deep inside, hadn’t had to face it in years. Damn him for releasing that flood gate. Needing to strike out at everything that had happened in those years—the press, Thalia’s manipulations, even Chad’s failure to come after her, to leave the States and fly to England, had her struggling to breathe. She flattened her hands on his chest and pushed—hard—making him stumble back. “Fuck you. You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Chad is still hurting. Same as you. When neither of you could have saved your daughter.”

“I know that!”

“Then for Christ’s sake, stop playing your stupid fucking games. Stop hiding from him. Tell Chad straight out and let him up his own mind about everything. About you. And about why you made those decisions. And where you went after you left him.”

Chapter Eight

“We’re positive, Chad.” Sam stared out from the video chat session on Chad’s laptop screen. “There’s absolutely no record of an Edward Weir owning any mines in South Africa. There’s no record of him coming into the country any time in the past year either. I’ve put out some feelers about this Light Brigade Investigators’ firm Weir says he hired. They’re legit as far as we can tell, and the guy I spoke to at their international office told me exactly the same story as Weir.”

Chad leaned back in his chair. If this had been a setup Sam wouldn’t have told him Weir hadn’t checked out. He’d be telling him the threat had ramped up or something to keep him there. “I’ll ask Lauren about it. She may be able to shed some light on the situation.”

“Nah, tell Troy to do that. He can be in charge until we figure the rest of this shit out.” Sam rolled an unlit cigar between his fingers and frowned. “I’m telling you, buddy, something’s hinky about this whole set-up. I look back on it now—the phone call I got about the story on you, then Weir phoning right after? I’m thinking they were deliberately timed that way but damned if I can figure out why.”

“But why? What would Weir have to gain?” Why would Lauren lie to him? No, this had to be a set-up; he just couldn’t figure out their aim.

“Hey, bud?” Sam interrupted. “I hate to ask this, but is it possible Lauren’s a spy for another protection agency? That maybe she’s workin’ for our competition and they’re lookin’ for a way to discredit us? Or at least discover our weaknesses?”

“If I were the competition, I wouldn’t use the ex-wife of an employee. That would make them more suspicious.” He’d set it up with someone they didn’t know. Someone who they wouldn’t suspect to be anything other than who he’d said they were, and he damned well would have made sure their cover story was in place.

Sam cursed softly. “Listen, buddy, I don’t like this. I feel like a goddamned puppet being manipulated and I don’t that feelin’. Why don’t you head back? I’ll have Sandy arrange a flight for you out of Burlington.”

Puppet being manipulated. If Sam hadn’t agreed to let him leave, he would have tagged Sam as the prime puppet master. So just who was pulling the strings? And why?

Chad straightened the laptop so it was aligned with the edge of the desk. “Tell Sandy I should be able to make it to Burlington by this afternoon. I still have to find Troy and tell him I’m leaving.”

Sam leaned forward, his face taking up nearly the entire tiny video chat screen. “You watch your back while you’re there, buddy, you hear? Tell Troy to watch his too.”

“Thanks. I will.” Yeah, Sam wasn’t behind this. Sam would have just locked him in a room at his private club. “You know for a while there I thought maybe you and Thalia were setting me up.”

“Shee-it, no.” The cigar disappeared, jammed back into Sam’s pocket with such force Chad was surprised the seams hadn’t ripped. “No, if I wanted to do that, I would have locked you up in a room at the club until you listened to me.”

Chad suppressed his smile. Did he know Sam or what?

“I would have staged a fuckin’ intervention or whatever the fuck they’re called,” Sam continued. “I fuckin’ well wouldn’t have locked you in with the ice queen and hope a little global warming set in.”

“You used to like her. She’s the one who…” Encouraged Sam to date Jill. Ah. Strange how time and distance sometimes made things so much clearer. “She and Jill had been good friends, Sam. She was upset when she said what she did. Losing Jill right after...”—Emily— “She was confused. Upset.”

“She was a self-centered bitch.” A feminine gasp from off-screen told him Rosie was listening.

He lined up the pen with the mouse pad. “She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. Not really. You were…collateral damage.”

“She wasn’t there when you needed her either, damn it. You need to get your head out of your ass and see she’s not good for you. Sure, she was a good fuck, but there are lots of women who would do you in a heartbeat.”

“Sam!” Rosie appeared on the screen. She hooked an arm around Sam’s neck and settled in his lap. The sappy look on Sam’s face should have been amusing, instead, he was jealous. “Chad, do you still love her?”

Behind her, Sam snorted and shook his head in disgust. “You see him dating anyone else lately, Rosebud? Nearly ten fuckin’ years he’s gone on a handful of dates with women I’ve set him up with. I doubt he’s gone through a box of condoms that whole fuckin’ time.”

Rosie placed a finger over Sam’s lips and ssshed him before facing the webcam again. “Chad? You need to get things straight with her. Talk to her. Listen to her.” She flattened her fingers over her heart. “Listen to what your heart is telling you. Because it sounds like you still care for her.”

Behind her, Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fuck her and get her out of your system. Then dump her on her ass out the front gates.”

That pearl of wisdom earned Sam a slap on his hand. Damn, Sam was lucky to have convinced Rosie to come back to D.C., to agree to date him again. Just how much groveling Sam had done in New York, neither of them would say.

That’s how things should have happened with him and Lauren, yet it hadn’t. Which was his own damned fault. Lauren had probably expected him to fly after her and beg her to come back, the way Sam had flown after Rosie. Instead he’d let Lauren go.

“Thanks Sam. I’ll phone you when I get back into D.C.” Chad clicked the mouse on the “end chat” button and the chat session disappeared from the screen.

The conversation replayed in his mind as he closed up his computer.
Fuck her and get her out of your system.
Didn’t Sam realize Lauren was his drug of choice? That if he fucked her again, the way he’d came too damned close to doing last night, he’d never get her out of his system?

Talk to her, Rosie had said.
Listen to her
. Right. Well, Lauren sure had some talking to do. About who Weir was and who she worked for. He just had to decide whether she’d be talking to him or to Troy for that conversation.

A quick check of her room showed Lauren hadn’t returned. The closed circuit cameras revealed her location—she’d gone jogging and was a third the way out to the far end of the property. He could wait until she passed by the house and catch her then.

Ah, hell, he needed to jog this morning anyway. He lost seven minutes dashing back up to his room and changing into his sweats. By the time he met Troy halfway out, he’d warmed up nicely. Both his muscles and his irritation.

Troy slowed as he approached Chad. “If you’re looking for Lauren, she’s up the hill.”

Once again he debated turning around and waiting for her to return to the house but decided against it. If it ended up with her screaming at him again, he’d rather do it where no one could hear. He found her pounding hell bent for leather down the path.

“Lauren.”

She glanced over her shoulder but kept running. “Leave me alone right now, Chad. I’m not very good company.”

His step hesitated as he almost did turn around. No, if someone was trying to discredit Hauberk through her, he owed it to Sam—and Troy—to find out just what the hell was going on.

“Lauren, slow down, damn it.”

She didn’t.

He sprinted, thinking he was fresher and could take advantage of her exhaustion. Considering she’d probably run close to five kilometers already, it still took a concerted effort to catch up. “You’re worn out and if you keep this up, you’re going to trip over a root and twist your ankle.” Not to mention he needed to talk to her face-to-face instead of to her ass, as nice a view as that was.

With a huff of exasperation, most likely more at herself than at him, Lauren slowed down and a few hundred yards up stopped entirely. Breathing hard, she braced her hands on her knees.

“Just leave me alone for a while. Please.”

“That’s not what you were begging me to do last night. Or have you forgotten how you got on your knees and sucked my dick?”
Fuck. That was a stupid
—

Before he could finish the thought, Lauren did a neat sweep with her foot he wasn’t expecting and he found himself flat on his back, the breath driven from him. He rolled to a stand and watched her disappear down the trail.