False Security (29 page)

“Name it.”

“I’ll give you my company in
exchange for the permanent employ of Ms. Pettis.”

Rachel’s mouth dropped and her
mind raced. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or appalled, though she
leaned toward the latter.

Donovan’s jaw set in anger and
his eyes flashed hatred. “We tend to frown upon slave trading in these parts,
Thomas.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Can’t blame
a man for trying.”

“Get out of my home.”

Rachel left the conference room,
and escorted Jonathan to the front door. She opened the door and turned to face
him.

“Rachel—”

“Whatever it is, no. You need to
leave now.” She didn’t like being so aware of him, of his eyes, his mouth, his
hands. The unspoken emotion between them reared up again, a fire that shouldn’t
be there. If she could sense it, so could Donovan.

He smiled and gave her a wink.
“I’ll see you again soon.” He walked outside before she could argue.

Shutting the door, her impulse
was to go to Donovan. She wanted to reassure him that she loved him, wanted
reassurance from him. She decided against the idea, knowing that he needed time
to cool down from the exchange with Jonathan. She couldn’t handle another violent
outburst.

As she walked toward the
basement stairs, she questioned if it was possible to still love Donovan while
experiencing feelings for another man. The answer unnerved her and renewed her
frustration with the situation.

She flew down the steps and almost
ran over Paul as she turned the corner. “That was quick,” he said. “Who was the
meeting with?”

“Jonathan Thomas.”

“You’re kidding. Anything get
accomplished?”

She stopped and faced him.
“Hell, no. Next time they should just duke it out on the school playground like
the snotty little rich brats they are.” She stormed into her room, leaving Paul
with his mouth open.

Rachel emerged
from her room later that afternoon, refreshed from a nap and ready for a workout
so she could expel the rest of her frustration. As she walked to the gym, she
decided she would erase Jonathan’s visit from her mind. The guilt over the kiss
consumed her, and continuing to allow Jonathan to dominate her thoughts wasn’t
fair to either her or Donovan. She owed everything to Donovan and refused to
betray him a moment longer.

She smiled at her decision to
forget Jonathan, and the tension in her shoulders released its hold on her. She
entered the gym and stopped walking. Eric laid on the bench press, lowering the
barbell toward his chest. Her pleasant mood deflated. “I’ll come back later,”
she said, and turned to go.

“I don’t understand something,”
Eric said.

Knowing he was baiting her,
Rachel turned around to face him. “What’s that?”

He grunted as he lifted the
weights back up, and lowered the bar onto the rack. “How you can screw up
everything you do.”

Her eyes narrowed and she
stepped toward him. All of the anger and frustration from the day flooded back
into her muscles.

Eric pushed himself up into a
sitting position. “Dancing with Jonathan Thomas in front of King?” His
patronizing laugh filled the room. “How stupid can you get?”

Rachel moved further into the
gym. “I’ve had enough of you, Eric. I think it’s time we finish this.”

He rose from the bench and
picked up a nearby towel. “What are you rambling about?”

She gestured at the mat. “I may
not be able to take care of you out there, but in here I have every right to
spar with you.”

Eric leered. “You’re on.” He
wiped the towel across his flushed brow and stepped on the mat. Sweat glistened
off the rough stubble on his head.

Paul walked into the gym.
“Rachel, what do you think you’re doing?”

Rachel shrugged. “Just
practicing. Right, Eric?”

“Just practicing,” Eric said.

“Damn it, Rach,” Paul said.

Eric threw his fist at her. She
dodged to the side and caught his hand. She whirled around, grabbed his wrist
and arm, and flipped him over her shoulder, but he anticipated her move. He
landed on his back and swept his arm under her legs, knocking her down.

He jumped to his feet seconds
before she did. His wrist bounced off her arm as she blocked his punch. She
misjudged the next one, and his knuckles crashed into the side of her face,
landing on the existing bruise. Her neck whipped to the side, and she looked
back at Eric in time to see his fist again. This time, it clipped her jaw.

Rachel backed away from Eric to
give herself a moment to recuperate. She touched her cheek, stinging not from
Eric’s punch, but with the reminder of Donovan slamming her into the wall. She
realized that Eric could only cause superficial pain; Donovan had secured all
rights to really hurt her.

Eric held his fists in front of
him with an arrogant grin, ready to strike again. She raised her fists and bent
her knees in response to his challenge. He moved toward her, and she expected
him to throw his fist again. His hand jerked, enough for her to raise her arm
up to block, leaving her abdomen exposed.

His foot landed in her stomach,
but she folded with it as Paul taught her years earlier. Though the pain was
minimal, she covered her stomach with her arm and remained bent at the waist.
Paul took a step toward them, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Is that all you have for me,
Rach?” Eric asked, laughing. “You can do better than that.”

Seconds passed like minutes
while Rachel stared at Eric. She kept her breathing uneven to maintain the
pretense of an injury. His shoulders dropped and his facial muscles relaxed.

She whirled around and kicked
the side of his face, stunning him. She drove her fist into his mouth, once,
twice, three times. Blood flowed from his mouth in response to the sharp blows.
Her foot connected once more with the side of his face and he hit the ground.

Rachel crouched beside him and
thrust her knuckles into the hollow of his neck. She pushed against his
windpipe to cut off his air supply. “Don’t ever mess with me again,” she said.

Paul picked her up from the mat.
Eric rolled to his side and grasped at his neck, coughing and wheezing. Rachel
stalled to watch Eric’s temporary suffering, and Paul dragged her out of the
gym. He pulled her into her bedroom, his anger apparent in his tone. “What is
going on with you today? And don’t pull that ‘time-of-the-month’ crap on me.”

“Nothing’s going on,” she said.
She rubbed her tender knuckles. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re agitated as hell. I want
to know why.”

She didn’t answer.

“Listen, I have to go with
Donovan to check out this job we’re doing in a couple weeks. We’ll be back in
an hour or so. I want you to go take a bath or stay in here and read, whatever
it’s going to take to keep you out of trouble. When we come back, you and I are
going to talk and you’re going to tell me everything. Promise me you’ll stay
away from everyone until we return, okay?”

“Alright,” she said.

“One hour.” He kissed her
forehead. “By the way, you did great in there. Serves him right.”

Jonathan paced
the floor of his office, as he had off and on all afternoon. He had stirred up
trouble that morning at King’s estate, and he didn’t know if he should be
worried about upsetting King or excited about the developments with Rachel.

Seeing Rachel brought back every
feeling he had while dancing with her. He had no control over his emotions or
actions when he was with her, so it had been no surprise he kissed her, even if
he didn’t know he would do it until it happened. Kissing her had been
everything he expected, and he never wanted to stop.

When he did let her go, he saw
the bruise on her cheek. The bruise was not the result of an accident, of
falling down, or of being clumsy. The purposeful and angry discoloration was
also recent.

As he snuck back to the house to
wait for his meeting with King, he came to terms with the idea that he might
have been the cause of the bruise. That dancing with her at the dinner pushed
King over the edge and he had hurt her. Yet he also knew that with a bruise
like that, it was not the first time she had suffered at King’s hands.

Seeing Rachel in the same room
as King worried Jonathan, as he remembered her saying she lived in the house
with him. The longer she lived with King, the more chances he would have to
hurt her. The offer of giving up his company to get Rachel out of harm’s way
came out of Jonathan’s mouth without thought.

After he said it, he knew he
meant it. This woman had infiltrated his heart to the point that he would give
up everything he had to be with her and whisk her out of the hell she lived in.
No man had the right to treat her like that, to put his hands on her in a
hurtful way. Somehow, Jonathan had to get her out of there.

A knock on his office door told
him that Walt had arrived with the information about Rachel. “Come in,” he
called.

Normally, Rita would conference
him to tell him his guest was waiting for him, but Jonathan gave her the day
off, much to her dismay. Rita had not taken a day off in a decade of working
for Jonathan, and she had not accepted his offer to take one off now without a
fight. He ended up giving her double time on her salary to get her away for the
day. The expense was worth it. Having her around would raise questions as to
why he had gone to King’s estate that morning, and what Walt was digging up for
him.

Walter Sykes strolled through
the office door, clutching a briefcase at his side. As they shook hands,
Jonathan noted Walt had lost more hair from his already frail comb-over.

“Thanks for getting this to me
so soon, Walt,” Jonathan said. He led Walt to the conference room on the other
side of his office.

Walt took a seat opposite of
Jonathan and set his briefcase on the table. “I’m not sure what you’ve gotten
yourself into, but this has to be one of the strangest cases I’ve ever seen.
And I’ve seen some strange ones,” he said.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes,
curious why Walt would say that about a simple background check. “What do you
mean? What about it is strange?”

Walt opened the briefcase and
took out a thin manila file folder. He flipped open the cover of the folder. He
picked up a single piece of paper from inside the folder and waved it in the
air. “This is what I have on your girl.”

“That’s it?” Jonathan asked.
“One page?”

“Not even half a page. Your girl
is what you’d call ‘off the grid.’ In fact, she’s so far off the grid, that she
was quite difficult to find in the first place.”

“What did you find on her?”

“She was born in San Diego and
lived there until she was ten. Then her parents were killed in a drunk driving
accident. They weren’t drinking, someone else was. Her dad, Luke, had one
brother named Paul. There was no other living family, so Paul retained custody
of Rachel. That’s where the trail ends.” Walt leaned over the table in dramatic
fashion. “There is no record of Rachel Pettis after age ten.”

At first, Jonathan thought he
might have misunderstood. “Age ten? How is that possible?”

Walt tossed the paper on top of
the folder. “You got me. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“Did you find out anything about
this uncle that took custody of her?”

“Paul Pettis was actually a
pretty prestigious doctor in Los Angeles at Cedars-Sinai until eighteen years
ago. That’s when his wife was raped and murdered.”

“Let me guess. He fell off the
grid soon after he lost his wife.”

Walt cocked a finger at him.
“You got it.”

Jonathan rubbed his forehead and
tried to put the pieces together. “So the uncle falls off the grid, then a few
years later Rachel does the same after he takes custody of her. How does she
get from San Diego to working for Donovan King, but remain invisible?”

“She must be working under the
table. I would bet good money that the uncle works there also, and that’s how
she met King. If she’s working in that capacity for King, she’s not involved in
anything good.” Walt closed his briefcase and slid the report over to Jonathan.
“You have a check for me?”

“No check. You get an envelope
this time.”

“Cash, huh? I like it, though it
makes me feel a little shady. I take it you don’t want Rita to know about this
one.”

“I don’t want anyone to ever
know about this case, but it’s not like it matters. You gave me more questions
than answers.”

“I don’t make up information to
give you your money’s worth,” Walt said, as he rose from the table. “You get
what you get and do with it what you want.”

Jonathan smiled and walked toward
his office desk to get the envelope for Walt. “You gave me a mystery, and I
don’t have the slightest clue what to do with it, but it was still worth the
price.”

Walt stopped walking and caught
Jonathan’s eyes. “This girl must be important for you to go through all this
trouble.” He did not wait for a response. “You’ll take the mystery and you’ll
solve it. Figure out what you have to do to get the results you want. That’s
what you’re best at.”

“You’re right,” Jonathan said.
He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out the envelope for Walt. “She
is very important to me and she is worth the mystery.”

Walt accepted the envelope. “Be
careful,” he said. “Something stinks about this, and if you keep poking around,
you need to tread lighter than you ever have before. If you need anything else,
give me a call.”

Jonathan thanked him, and Walt
walked out of the office. He scanned the report on Rachel. Everything Walt told
him was in writing, so he put the page through the cross-cut shredder next to
his desk. He couldn’t risk Rita finding the document and questioning him on who
Rachel was and why he paid Walt to run a background check on her.

Walt’s report only added a layer
of mystery to Rachel Pettis. A young woman, living off the grid at Donovan
King’s estate. She was not only working for him, she was with him. In return,
she had sustained at least one bruise at his hands.

Jonathan was sure of two things.
One, he fell in love with her the moment they met. Two, he couldn’t allow her
to stay with that monster for one more minute. He had already made quite the
mess at King’s residence that morning. Treading lightly wasn’t exactly an
option at this point.

He picked up the phone to call
his brother, Cory. He would need a bit more time off if he was going to figure
out how to get Rachel away from King.