I Belong to You (7 page)

“I have a reliable lead that Ava is alive and well,” I say when he answers. “What have you heard?”

“From whom?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“I’m not willing to disclose that information.”

There’s a short pause. “You’re going after her on your own,” he says. It’s not a question. “You still want vengeance.”

“I’m keeping my ear to the ground to protect my family.”

“Then give me your contact’s info, and let me protect them for you.”

“I pay you to protect my family—and so does San Francisco law enforcement, since they’ve now contracted you as well. And I trust your people, Blake. But if your family could be in danger, would you wait for someone else to protect them?”

Considering he’d confessed to me his own vigilante quest to kill a man who’d murdered someone he loved, we both know the answer. A beat passes. Then two. “Just promise me you’ll give me a chance to act on anything you find out before you do.”

“I promise to be as transparent as you,” I say, making it clear that I’m aware he’s dodged my question about what he knows about Ava. “And you make sure your staff is vigilant about watching for unusual threats.”

“We were in airport security right after 9/11. We know how to look for the unusual. But I need an assurance that you won’t act—”

“Just do your job, Blake, and make sure Jacob pays special attention to Crystal Smith.”

“I’ll call him when we hang up.”

“Good. Do that.” There’s a knock on the door. “I need to go.”

I end the call as my father pokes his head in the door enough for me to see his blue and red team jersey. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” I say, stashing the phone in my pocket and walking in his direction, wondering if Ms. Smith said something to make him think otherwise. “Just a quick business call.”

“Your mother’s asking for you,” he says, and I sense nothing beneath the comment. “The Chinese food was dropped off downstairs. Jacob is bringing it up.” The doorbell rings. “That’ll be it. We’re eating in our bedroom. Your mother doesn’t want to try to go to the table. She’s afraid it will wear her out.”

He disappears, and I face what is inevitable. A cozy dinner with me, my parents, and Ms. Smith, whom I just told I want to fuck. I’m treating her like a damn yo-yo, which is wrong and I have to fix it. Based on how upset she was when
she left, perhaps I already have. Calculated anger was one thing, but that was pain—the very thing she’s tried to help me get past.

“Mark!” my father calls, and I scrub the roughness of new stubble, joining him and Jacob in the hallway. “Get the rest, will you, son?” my father asks, his arms loaded down with bags.

“Got it,” I say as he heads toward the bedroom. “You heard that Ms. Smith changed her mind about using us for security?” I ask Jacob softly.

“I did. Royce Walker was going to talk to her tomorrow if she didn’t change her mind. We dodged a bullet on that one. He never asks. He tells you as he rolls over you. And Ms. Smith doesn’t do well with force.”

“No, she doesn’t,” I say, “which is why her sudden change of heart seems a bit too easy. What reason did she give you for agreeing?”

“She said it was to protect you.”

“How so?”

“She says if you keep intentionally baiting her into arguments, you’ll need protection from her, so it’s only fair you should pay for it.”

I laugh. “She knew you’d repeat that. So tell me: Who’s baiting who?”

Jacob lifts his hands. “I plead the Fifth, considering I have to protect you both. I’ll leave it to you two to wrestle out your differences.”

“Hmm. That’s a visual I can’t quite get my mind around.”

“Creative visuals, a lethal weapon when I want to be one, and I grill a great steak. My specialties, at your service. Can I get you anything right now?”

“I’ll settle for Chinese right now.”

“Have it your way,” he says, turning to leave.

I back up and kick the door shut, and the security system automatically locks it. I walk the short distance to one of the two master bedrooms and find my parents on the massive oak bed while Crystal stands at the small conference table my mother uses in place of a desk. As she removes food from a bag, Crystal’s gaze lifts and finds mine and the detachment in her stare speaks volumes. I’m right. I hurt her, and I did it in some deep, cutting way I don’t fully understand.

Quick to look away, she finishes emptying the bag as I cross the room to join her. “I hope you’re going to eat tonight, Mother.”

“It sure smells good,” she says. “The first thing that has in a long time.”

“Excellent,” I say. “I believe I have the drinks.” I halt directly across from Ms. Smith and set my bag on one of the two chairs.

She places a container in front of me. “Cashew chicken.”

“How do you know it’s mine?” I ask, trying to get her to look at me again.

Her lashes lift. “You just seem like a cashew chicken kind of guy.”

“I told her,” my mother informs me. “She gets the same thing.”

“So you’re a cashew chicken kind of girl?” I ask.

“And her birthday is next week, too,” my mother adds. “November twenty-third. One day after yours.”

“But you’re about a decade older than me,” Crystal says, giving my father his food.

“Older and wiser.”

She snatches a drink from in front of me and passes it to my father, a combative energy between us. “Younger and more versatile.”

My father roars out laughter. “I do believe our son has met his match, Dana.”

“That’s why I hired her,” Dana says as Crystal kicks off her shoes and walks to my mother’s side. “She doesn’t stand down to anyone except me.”

Crystal sets a tray over my mother’s lap and then places her food and a soda on it. “Now eat, and I want nothing left. You need to gain weight.”

I laugh and settle into my chair. “I guess you’re right. She backs down to no one.”

Crystal returns to the table and it’s all I can do not to watch every move she makes. Once she’s across from me again, opening her plasticware, I say, “Versatile, but unwilling to try new things.”

“Old and incapable of thinking outside of the same box.”

I want to drag her back into the library and fuck her right now. She glares a warning at me over the way I’m looking at her, but my father and mother are absorbed in jabbering away, and I ignore her. “We need to finish our talk.”

“We did. Or I did. I’m done, Mark Compton. The End.”

She means it this time.

Seven

Mark . . .

“What do you think, son?”

“About?” I ask, jerking my gaze to my father.

“How about coming and watching some of the pitchers throw this weekend with me? Dana says she and Crystal are having a girls’ pampering day on Sunday.”

I arch a brow at Crystal. “Oh?” The more I see her closeness to my mother, the more curious I am about
her
mother.

“We have a stylist coming in for hair and nails,” she says, her lips curving as she looks at my mother. “It’s going to be fun.”

“I can’t wait,” my mother says, dragging her hand down her hair. “I think it’ll make me feel a little more human.”

“So what do you say, Marky boy?” my father presses. “We on for some baseball?”

“You have practice on Sunday?”

“A pitching camp. I really could use your input.”

Fighting the feeling that I can’t face this part of my past right now, my lips manage a curve and I say, “Sunday it is, then.”

The light in my father’s eyes is my reward. “We can go by that burger joint by the practice field we used to hang out at. Good memories.”

He’s right. They were, and I don’t want to let one bad piece of my history destroy some of the special moments I’ve shared with my father.

“I was thinking,” my mother says, and her solemn tone draws all of our gazes as she sighs and starts again. “I was thinking about Rebecca, and how young she was and how young you were when life got all twisted. Things change so quickly. Life is here and gone, and—”

The jab to my gut plunges deep, and I lower my eyes, fighting the emotions by beginning to count, leaving room for nothing else.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
When my gaze lifts it collides with Crystal’s, and I see the question in her eyes. She wants to know what my mother is talking about . . . and part of me wants that one person whom I can actually tell.

“Everything happens for a reason,” my father tells my mother. “We just don’t know what it is until later. But I’m betting that you’ll inspire a lot of people to fight when this is over.”

Everything happens for a reason.
He’d said that to me way back then, too. I was certain that my future had been ripped away from me as a lesson. It made me become stronger for everyone else around me, to ensure no one else got hurt. But what reason is there in Rebecca dying? How can there ever be a reason for that?

I push to my feet. “I’m going to get ice. Anyone else?” All eyes have shifted to me, and they all call bullshit, “you don’t want ice, you want space.” “No?” I ask. “Okay then.” I leave the room wondering how “Okay then” even got into my damn vocabulary.

Walking down the hall and past a large living area, I pause in the center of the massive kitchen, leaning on the black rectangular island counter. My head drops toward my chest and I start counting to keep myself out of my own head, so I can walk back into that bedroom.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Mark.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as Crystal’s voice stirs an odd sensation in my chest that somehow eases the ache in my gut. Desire rockets through me, and I tell myself it’s about fucking and control. I need it, and she’s my safe zone outside of the club.

“Are you okay?” she asks when I do not speak.

When our gazes meet the jolt is as unwelcome as it is intense. She feels it, too. I see it in the slight widening of her eyes, the way she curls her fingers into her palms on the counter across from me.

“You were furious with me a few minutes ago,” I say. “Why are you standing here now?”

“I’m not one-dimensional. I can be furious and worried at the same time.”

Unable to squash my intrigue over the unknowns of her past, I agree. “No, you aren’t one-dimensional. Nor are you simply a rich girl who wants to prove something to daddy.”

“Thank you.” She crinkles her brow. “I think.”

We fall into silence, a hum of electricity charging between us. “I still go back to you saying ‘The End’ to me a few minutes ago. You meant it this time, too. That doesn’t translate to you standing here.”

“Neither does much of what you do, where I’m concerned.”

“You’re absolutely right. It doesn’t. What does, though, is sticking to ‘The End.’ What doesn’t is how badly I want to drag you into another room and fuck you right now.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not me you want. It’s someone who’ll sign a contract and be your outlet and bridge to control. You left that bedroom thinking about the impossibility of a reason for Rebecca’s death, beyond your self-blame and guilt. You need that bridge.”

There is banked pain lacing her words, and a hint of the earlier anger I’d seen in her eyes. I could make those things go away by telling her what she’s said isn’t true. I could tell her she’s gotten under my skin. But I don’t even know who the man beneath the surface is right now. I’ve destroyed two women. Crystal doesn’t deserve to be number three.

“Is everything okay?” my father asks from the doorway, repeating Crystal’s earlier words.

“Yes,” I say, my gaze lingering on Crystal before I push off the counter, hands going to my hips. “We’re ready to talk to Mom about what’s been going on.”

“We are?” Crystal asks, sounding surprised. “Tonight?”

“We can’t risk her finding out from somewhere else,” I explain.

“She’d feel betrayed,” my father adds.

Crystal gives a choppy nod. “Yes. I can see that. But I am not looking forward to telling her.”

“None of us are,” my father says. “Right now, though, she wants us all to eat together. And since it’s the best chance we have of getting some food down her, I say we wait until after we’ve finished. I don’t want to jeopardize her appetite.”

“I’m all for getting food down her,” I say. “She’s skin and bones.”

“I’ve been force-feeding her what she does eat,” Crystal adds. “The nurse suggested some high-calorie protein shakes. I tried that, but she hates them.”

My father starts to turn, then pauses. “By the way, Crystal, Larry Prescot called me just before you got here. You won him over. Thanks for calming him down before he got to Dana.”

“My pleasure.”

He disappears into the hallway and I grab Crystal’s arm. “How okay is Prescot?”

“Very.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I threw out my father’s name—something that I normally would never do.”

“But?”

“I was on the phone with my father when the receptionist buzzed to tell me that Prescot had arrived for our meeting. My father overheard and insisted that I drop his name. I reminded him that I’m adamant about succeeding on my own merits. But I’m also not one to foolishly ignore resources when backed into a corner, and I was. Prescot was being a total jerk. I knew we were about to lose the business.”

“So you broke your rule.”

“I did. And it was an amazing turnaround. Prescot suddenly remembered the many ways people have tried to paint him as a monster in the media, and became sympathetic rather than judgmental. I called my father afterward, and it turns out that Prescot enjoys the benefits of his secretary beyond her exceptional organizational skills, and his wife of twenty years doesn’t know.”

“But your father does.”

“Yes. And now, so do we.”

My lips curve. “Sounds like I owe you and your father a thank-you.”

“All you’d get in return from my father is a demand that I quit my job. He hates me working for anyone but him, especially now with all this bad press.”

“Is he afraid it will overflow to him?”

“No. He’s afraid I’ll get hurt.”

Me too,
I think.
Me too.
“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him I’m his daughter, not his possession. He doesn’t own me any more than you do, and neither of you gets to claim responsibility for my happiness. That’s all mine.”

As she leaves the room, I stare after her in silent agreement. I’m not responsible for her happiness. But I’m not going to be responsible for her misery, either.

*  *  *

Twenty minutes later, my mother has told us all about her treatment and recited several dirty jokes one of the techs told her to calm her down, one of which doesn’t please me. “I’m going to have to defend your honor and punch this guy tomorrow.”

“Oh please,” my mother says, waving me off. “It’s funny.”

My father snorts. “I gave up defending your mother’s honor after the car mechanic incident when I was out of town.”

“What’s the car mechanic incident?” Crystal asks.

“You’ll never look at my mother the same way if we tell you,” I say.

“The guy was trying to rip me off,” Dana says. “So I told him I was going to stop by the sex shop and pick up a dildo so he could screw me extra hard.”

Crystal bubbles over with laughter until tears flow down her cheeks. “That’s priceless,” she says, her voice now a sexy rasp, which has me looking at her lips and thinking about all the places I’d like them to be tonight. “There’s never a dull moment with you, Dana,” she says. “And I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

We all laugh, my mother included, and the sound is music to my ears. “I can’t believe I’ve been up so long,” my mother says afterward.

My father and I exchange a look, followed by me and Crystal. It’s time. We have to talk to her. While my father clears her tray, I stand up and go sit on the edge of the bed beside her. Crystal moves to the opposite side, beside my father.

My mother scans our faces. “If this is an intervention, I can’t give up the drugs. It’s a doctor-approved addiction.”

I take her frail hand in mine, wishing like hell this conversation weren’t necessary. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“All right, son. I’m listening.”

“I’m here, which means the press is, too. I need to warn you about what they’re saying.”

“Go on,” she says, lacing her fingers in front of her.

“Ava’s defense team are after their version of O. J. Simpson, Hollywood lights and all, uncaring of who they hurt in the process.”

“That’s not good,” she murmurs.

“But it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before,” Crystal points out, “with all the money and power that runs through the gallery.”

“And even one of my ballplayers, who took a payoff from a pro team long before he went pro,” my father says.

“Just tell me what you need to tell me,” my mother says, her attention on me.

“Before Ava’s escape,” I continue, “her defense team was desperate to counter her confession, which they claimed was made under duress, and driven by me.”

“You? Why you?”

“They changed their story a number of times. First, Ava said she confessed to protect me.”

She gasps. “Do you mean—”

“Yes. She accused me of killing Rebecca, but the police have cleared me and they now have proof of Ava’s guilt.”

“And?”

“Her legal team threw out a lot of random nonsense when trying to get the murder charge dropped. Everything from a sex scandal, to a sex club, Rebecca blackmailing me, and Ricco saying I set him and Mary up to shut him up when he had almost figured it all out.”

My mother sits up. “What? Do they actually believe you’d ruin our business to set him up?”

“Easy, Dana,” my father says. “Easy.”

“Nothing is getting ruined,” I assure her.

“In fact,” my father adds, “Larry Prescot called me today to express concern and relay how pleased he is with Crystal.”

“I’m finding in general, as we talk to people and explain things,” Crystal adds, “they become more supportive, not less.”

“Ricco’s trial is in January, so we’ll have to endure his accusations then. In the meantime, the press keeps trying to make headlines with all the nastiness Ava’s defense threw out before her escape.”

“Like a sex club and sex scandal.”

“Nothing anyone can prove. It’s just talk.”

“Nothing they can’t prove,” she repeats. “
Is
there a sex club?”

I draw a breath and let it out. “It’s a cigar club to the public.”

“So there is a club.”

“Elite. Expensive. Members only.”

“And your role is?”

“I own it.”

She turns to my father. “You knew?”

“Not before this Ava fiasco.”

At his reply, she glances at Crystal. “And you?”

“Mark warned me,” she says. “He never let me get sideswiped, so I never missed a beat when questioned.”

My mother’s gaze comes back to me. “What kind of sex club?”

“Elite—”

“You said that.”

“BDSM and fetish.”

Her hand goes to her throat. “Do you have a club here?”

“No. That was never an option and it still isn’t.”

“And Rebecca and Ava were members?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“What else do I need to know?”

“Ricco had a stalkerlike obsession with Rebecca. The police suspect he helped Ava escape because he thought she was innocent, and that I killed Rebecca. There’s now speculation that Ava is missing because he found out the truth and killed her.”

“So, we have press now. We’ll have press again when something turns up on Ava, and again during the trial.”

“That about sums it up.”

She stares forward, and it’s as if she’s shutting a door, withdrawing from me and everyone in the room. “I need to rest now.” Defeat laces her words and radiates off her.

I did this to her. I made her hell deeper and darker. “I’m not going to let this hurt Riptide,” I promise. “I
won’t
let that happen.”

She looks at me, her bottom lip trembling in a way I have never seen before. “I said I need to rest, Mark.” She looks forward again.

I suck in a breath, fighting the icy knot in my chest. She thinks I’m going to destroy everything she’s worked for. But deep down, I knew she’d think that. I knew she never truly trusted me. It’s a big part of why I left New York.

Pushing to my feet, I leave and go to the library, and walk straight to the double doors at the back of the room. Opening the door, I step onto the balcony, the bitter cold gusting around me. I do exactly what I did last night and walk to the rail, pressing my hands to the cold steel. She believes I’ll let her down. This city, this world I’m in now, is all about a past where failure nearly destroyed me before. Instead, it destroyed someone else. It’s happening again, and this time, the someone else is my mother.