Chapter 12
“YOU’RE PROBABLY looking for this.” Robert Mayfield tossed my handbag my way, and it landed at my feet. I snagged it, thankful he hadn’t opened it to check its contents. While I didn’t know for sure what he wanted from me, or why he was alive, I had a pretty good idea. For a moment, I was tempted to retrieve my cell, but I couldn’t risk him discovering the black book and disk. I needed those in case I had to haggle for my life.
“I know you have a cell phone in there. Don’t even think about trying to call anyone,” he continued, reading my thoughts. “In fact, hand it over.”
“I wasn’t going to call anyone,” I muttered. I opened the zipper just enough to squeeze my hand through and rummage for the phone. When I found it, I passed it on to him, making sure he didn’t glimpse the side compartment where I had hidden the book and disk.
He motioned for me to sit down opposite from him. “Can I offer you a drink, Brooke?” Without waiting for my answer, he poured whisky into two glasses and handed me one. I sat down in the leather seat and took the glass from his outstretched hand but didn’t drink. “I have to apologize for the way my two guards treated you. It’s not standard procedure with our employees.”
“I thought you were—” I began.
“Dead?” he finished for me. “That’s what everybody’s thinking. It’s what I want them to believe.”
He pointed at my drink invitingly. I watched the golden liquid like it was poison because I didn’t trust him. People who want a friendly chat don’t abduct you. They usually invite you over for coffee instead of making you think you might be about to be smuggled to Mexico.
Alarm bells began to ring in the back of my head, and my throat felt parched.
“I don’t understand. Why would you want your sons to believe you were dead?” I whispered. “Why would anyone put their children through so much pain?”
“Drink. It’s safe.”
I didn’t follow his command. My fingers clutched at the glass as I watched him for a few seconds, waiting for his explanation. It never came.
Robert Mayfield raised his eyebrows and gestured at the glass again. He wanted me to drink up. I figured it was some sordid power game, and if I wanted to survive and escape, I had to play along. Judging from the expression on his face, he knew it just as well as I did. Maybe if he thought I was being cooperative, he might consider letting me go. I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip, then let the whiskey burn its way down my throat.
Pleased with my action, he took a sip and leaned back with a smile, swirling the golden liquid in his glass.
“To answer your question, it’s complicated,” he said at last. “I’m doing them a favor.”
I hoped he’d elaborate. When he didn’t reply, I realized that was all I’d get out of him. As much as I wanted to probe, a more important question lingered in my mind.
“What do you want from me?”
“So many questions, Brooke.” He shook his head slowly, as if he had to educate an ignorant child. “Jett didn’t exaggerate when he said we should hire you because you were feisty.” He refilled his glass and leaned back again, his green eyes assessing me. Even though they were the same shade as Jett’s, I didn’t see any warmth in them.
“Are you going to hurt me? Is that what you want?” I asked quietly.
His smile disappeared. I couldn’t suppress a light tremble as a cold shudder ran down my spine. Whatever he had to say, I was sure I wouldn’t like it.
“Quite the opposite. I have a proposition for you. Let’s call it a chance to start over. A new life, Brooke.”
His fingers moved inside his pocket to pull out a check he slid over toward me. Seeing all the zeroes, I almost toppled off my seat.
Holy hell!
Two million!
“Move to Portland, Oregon, and the money shall be yours.”
“Why?” I narrowed my eyes. No one gifted so much money unless they received something in return. Robert Mayfield wanted something. Guys like him always did.
“I want the book. You still have it, don’t you?”
Deep inside of me, I’d seen it coming.
Of course he wanted the book. The fact that it had laid buried in a basement showed its true value. I pressed the bag to my chest.
“It depends,” I answered. “What else do you want?”
“I want you to stay out of my son’s life.” His voice was cold, just like his icy stare that never shifted from me as he spoke.
I blinked several times, unable to grasp the meaning of his words.
“You—” My voice failed me.
“You understood right, Brooke,” Robert Mayfield said calmly. “Tomorrow you’ll leave New York and Jett. You’ll disappear—just like me. You won’t get in touch with my son, nor with your family or friends. Everybody you ever knew will believe you disappeared without a trace.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Don’t even think about running or not accepting my offer. I’ll make sure no one will ever find you. My people will watch you to see if you follow the rules.”
“No. I don’t want the money.” I shook my head vehemently. “And I’m not going anywhere. You can’t stop me from seeing Jett or my family. People mean more to me than financial gain.” The thought of losing Jett, my family, my old life, scared and angered me. “You can have the book, but I’m not leaving my old life behind. I’m declining your offer.” My legs were shaking so badly I feared they might buckle beneath me, but my voice was surprisingly composed.
“You will want it.” His voice was so forceful I flinched. “You don’t understand, Brooke. If your family, friends, or Jett mean anything to you, anything at all, you’d better do what I say, or I’ll make them go away. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. His lips curled into a smile, but his eyes betrayed his real emotions. “You have no choice. If you want them alive and safe, you’ll bring me the book and leave your life behind without telling anyone.”
I interlaced my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking.
“You wouldn’t.” For some reason I felt the urge to appeal to the human part of him because, in my stupidity, I thought there had to be one.
“Leave me no choice, and I will,” he said, misinterpreting my gesture, and retrieved a jewelry box the size of his palm from a compartment, then opened it and handed it to me. I stared at the piece of jewelry in silence. Of course it could be anyone’s but I knew it was Sylvie’s missing tennis bracelet, and the thought scared the crap out of me.
“She was asleep. Didn’t even notice the two men breaking in and unclasping it from her wrist. I know everything about her. The places she visits, the people she meets. Let’s say, one Thursday evening she visits Vixen’s into the early morning hours, the way she always does, but this time she’s not making it home, and no one will ever know what happened to her.’
The threat hung heavy in the air. I swallowed hard to get rid of the bile rising in my throat. My head felt heavy and tired, and my lungs burned, as though I had been underwater for too long and couldn’t come up for air.
“If I do what you say, what guarantee do I have that you’ll keep your word and not harm them?” I raised my brows. “Or me.”
“None. My word should suffice.” His eyes were probing mine, challenging me, observing. They reminded me of a hawk—ready to catch his prey. The limousine came to a halt, but the engine continued to whirr softly. A traffic light, I assumed. People and cars all around us. And yet no one could peek inside, no one could be alerted to this most bizarre situation.
The car began to move again, rolling slowly, then picking up speed. In the silence of the car, I watched him adjust his tie. It was just a tiny movement but enough to tell me he was getting annoyed with me.
“A rented apartment’s waiting for you in Oregon,” Robert Mayfield said. “Tomorrow my driver will pick you up from the underground parking garage at eleven a.m. Don’t take anything with you except for your handbag with the book. You’ll be provided with everything you need for your new life, your flight tickets, and your new passport. The money will be in your new bank account. I’ll get in touch with you once you’re in Oregon. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from Jett. If you break one rule, your friend is the first one to go.”
His tone was serious. Something rose within in me—despair; hopelessness at the prospect of abandoning Jett, my family and Sylvie; fury that Robert Mayfield hated the idea of Jett dating me. This was my last chance to change his mind. If I didn’t try, I’d regret it.
“Why do you want me out of Jett’s life?” I asked. “What if I break up with him and give you the book? I could still stay in New York but keep away from—”
“Aren’t you listening?” He cut me off. I stared at him in shock. “Let me make it clear to you, Brooke. You have no choice.”
He wiped imaginary lint from his slacks before crossing his legs and leaning back, self-satisfied. “Why doesn’t matter. I’d hate to see you suffer more than necessary. Your sister was a pretty hard loss.” I swallowed down the knot in my throat. So he knew about my family and my past. No big news. Nothing to scare me there. What scared me was the fact I didn’t know him and consequently didn’t know what he was capable of. He pressed a button. The passenger’s door opened, but I didn’t move. Didn’t call for help. Never before was freedom so close and yet so far away.
“This meeting never happened. If any word gets out or you try to seek help, I’ll make you and all the people in your life pay. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can outwit me because you can’t.”
“I understand,” I whispered. “There won’t be any problems.”
Pleased with my reply, his smile widened. “Good. I’m happy we’ve come to an agreement. This might be hard to believe at this point, but I’m doing you and your child a favor.”
My heart stopped.
How the hell did he know about the pregnancy?
The only people I had talked with were Jett and Sylvie who probably told Kenny.
“Let’s say I have my own resources,” Robert Mayfield said, as if sensing my shock. “You’ve been watched ever since you entered Jett’s life.”
How?
And then the answer dawned on me. Emma. How could I forget her? She was always there, listening, watching. She had brought Jett’s bouquet of roses and had probably read the card tucked inside. And she had dated Robert. She told me so herself when I commenced my initial position with Mayfield Realties. She was more inconspicuous than a private investigator.
“Tomorrow. Eleven a.m. sharp.” He pointed at the door. “We’re done for today.” He nodded meaningfully, waiting for me to leave. Without a look back, I exited the limousine. With my heart pounding in my chest and my mind a blurry mess, I slammed the door shut and stood glued to the spot. The reality of what happened hit me so hard I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Long after the limousine drove away, I didn’t move. Minutes passed. People walked past, some cursing, some simply dodging me. A few cast curious glances my way, and still I remained frozen in place, locked in time and space—until someone stepped in front of me and squeezed my arm gently.
