Coming Clean (11 page)

That morning when I left our home to face the drudging day ahead, I did it with a little extra pep in my step. Even if I was anxious as hell about the mysterious appointment with our
sex therapist
.

Today had been one of the better days I'd had over the last couple of years. Thanks in large part to Shaw's tiniest bit of submission this morning. Abe and I spent the day together, doing everything he wanted to do and eating whatever junk food his little heart desired. I might have been overcompensating a bit because of my guilt over sending him off again to spend the night somewhere other than his own bed.

Though I felt like the crappiest mother of all time, my Abey Baby was thrilled to go see his uncle Chaz and aunt Demi. In fact, he'd jumped up and down clapping when Demi had asked him if he wanted to play “Wrestlemania” again. Apparently, Demi and Abe team up against Chaz, who lets Abe win until Uncle Chaz deploys the tickle-claw maneuver, and then Abe tags Demi in. Abe laughed and said it was “big fun” to see Aunt Demi beat up Uncle Chaz. Since Demi was a self-defense instructor, I knew her winning had nothing to do with Chaz letting her. I almost felt sorry for Chaz, to be honest. More so when he groaned and cupped his balls.

Shaw was even on time for dinner at Monkey's. Sasha and Landon had joined us and I'd actually felt like an adult for once. We'd laughed and done the catching-up thing until Shaw looked down at his watch and cleared his throat to get my attention, tapping on the face of the thing to tell me we needed to get going or we'd be late. Neither of us wanted that since this whole ordeal felt like we were agents going undercover to expose some deeply concealed secret society of sexaholics plotting to take over the world or whatever.

But when we got to the address Dr. Minkov had given to Shaw, it quickly became clear that my amusing wonderings might not have been far off the mark.

“Are you sure this is the right address?” I leaned forward in my seat as if the windshield would behave as a pair of glasses and allow me to see things more clearly.

I saw things clearly enough, all right. We were in an empty lot, the painted lines of the parking spaces on the cracked asphalt faded, obviously not having been maintained for quite some time. Thanks to the illumination of Shaw's headlights, I could see there was one building, giant and looming and dark—an abandoned industrial warehouse, complete with broken windows, rain-rusted stains down the corrugated aluminum siding, and graffiti spray painted on every surface.

Shaw checked and double-checked the address against his GPS. “This is what I wrote down. She said it so fast, I must have gotten it wrong.”

If I hadn't known beyond a shadow of a doubt that Shaw had been genuine when he'd said he was all in on this therapy thing, I would've thought he'd gotten the address wrong on purpose. Further proving my belief that “it had been an accident” was his explanation for the intentional error. He raked his fingers through his hair, his jaw ticking and leg bouncing. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

I knew he really was. Putting a hand on his arm, I took a deep breath. “It's okay.” I shrugged and forced a smile. “Guess it wasn't meant to be. Let's just go get Abe and head home.”

With another curse at himself, Shaw put the car in reverse and started to back out, only to have to stomp on the brake. I jerked forward, caught by the seatbelt and pushed back into an upright position.

“What the hell?” Shaw shouted, looking into the rearview mirror. I turned the top half of my body to see what the holdup was and saw a pair of headlights from another car getting closer and closer until the thing was practically on top of our rear bumper. Shoving the gear into park, Shaw cut the engine and ripped off his seatbelt as he flung open the door.

“Shaw, don't!” I tugged on his arm, trying to make him stay put, but he yanked away. Dark parking lot, plus abandoned building, plus strange vehicle with high-beam lights equaled all kinds of
Dateline
murder mystery.

“I'm just going to see what this asshole's problem is. I'll be okay,” he told me. Not at all convincingly, I might add.

My heart was racing with fear. This was the industrial district of San Diego, California, for Christ's sake. Abandoned warehouses were ideal for drug deals and murders. I gasped, suddenly thinking about Abe being orphaned after both of his parents were killed in cold blood,
if
our bodies were ever found. “Shaw, get back in the car! They could have a gun!”

He
pfft
'd me. Actually drew his head back and looked at me like I was being overly dramatic with a “
Pfft!
They don't have a gun. It's probably a couple of teenagers coming here to make out. Stop worrying. I'm just going to scare them a little and then I'll be back.”

Really, it wasn't necessary to even do that much. But I stayed in the car, watching him through the back window the whole time. Not that I could see much with the headlights glaring like that. A minute or two passed, though it seemed like way more, before Shaw came back, opening the door and bending down to poke his head inside.

“Come on, let's go.”

“Go? Go where?” My voice was ten octaves higher than normal. Or at least it seemed that way to me.

“That's our ride,” he told me, nodding back toward the bright lights.

I shook my head vehemently. “Uh-uh. Get back in the car and let's get out of here.”

“Cassidy, I called Dr. Minkov myself to confirm what the driver told me. Apparently, she's taking extra precautions to make sure her location remains a secret. I'm not sure what the big deal is, but you really wanted to do this, so let's do it.”

“Let me get this straight,” I began, still astounded that he was being so nonchalant about the scary weirdness of our current situation. “We're given an address to an empty parking lot where a strange vehicle closes us in, and then we're instructed to leave the safety of our car to get into said strange vehicle to be taken to an unknown secret location to meet up with some sex doctor, and none of our family or friends know our whereabouts…and you don't see a problem with that?”

“Oh, this has
probable homicide
written all over it,” he admitted. “In fact, I think you just described the plot of like a thousand horror flicks, but…”

“But what?”

“Where's your sense of adventure?” He chuckled at my disapproving scowl. “Cass, you trust Dr. Sparling, right?”

I nodded. At least I thought I trusted him. It was entirely possible he could be a member of a cult, in charge of sending unsuspecting innocents into a trap so they could be strapped to a sacrificial altar to pay homage to some gruesome deity with a thirst for blood.

“He's the one who gave us the referral, and he did say Dr. Minkov's methods were unusual.”

“Unusual? That's an understatement.” I worried my bottom lip as my brain went haywire, recalling all the reviews I'd found for Dr. Sparling online. Not only that, but his credentials had checked out. I'd done the research myself, and I trusted my own findings far better than anything Google could throw out there. On the other hand, I hadn't found anything on Dr. Minkov at all.

“Cass, you know I'd never let anything happen to you.”

Men and their machismo. Almost every one of them I knew thought they were bulletproof.

“Are we going or not?” Shaw prodded. “I have a feeling Dr. Minkov doesn't like to be kept waiting, so it's sort of a now-or-never kind of deal.”

Feeling the urgency of the moment, I made a quick decision that I hoped I wouldn't live to regret,
if
I came out of this alive at all. “Okay, fine. But if we die, I'm so going to kill you,” I said, grabbing my purse and getting out of the car.

I heard the distinctive two-tone beeps of Shaw locking the car and setting the alarm, and then he joined me at the rear. Placing a hand at the small of my back, he escorted me toward the back door of the black sedan. I tried to get a look at the driver in case I'd need details for a sketch artist later, but the front windshield was completely blacked out. As were the rest of the windows.

The driver stepped around the car and met us at the back passenger door, opening it for us. I hadn't even seen him get out. What, was he made of shadows? At least I was able to get a good look at him. He was much taller than Shaw with broad shoulders and thick arms that he kept at his sides as he waited for us to get inside. I couldn't see the color of his eyes or hair since he wore sunglasses—at night—and his hair was cropped short beneath a driver's hat, but I did get a good look at the tattoo on his right hand. It was the side profile of a lion's head with long, sharp canines and a serpent's tongue. It could have been something artistic, but it seemed more like something found in a crest of some sort. Maybe even for that fictional secret society that was becoming more real by the minute.

Leery as I was about the whole situation, I got into the back, sliding along the smooth, soft black leather. Shaw got in behind me, relaxing into the cushiony seat as if he hadn't a care in the world. The driver did nothing but nod when Shaw thanked him and then the door was closed.

“Um…so this is odd,” I said, realizing that not only could no one see into the car, but we also couldn't see out. Except for the front windshield. Until the driver got inside and a blacked-out partition lifted into place, and then we were essentially blindfolded with nothing more than the muted illumination of a floor light.

I was reminded of a wet dream I'd had so very long ago. A dream I still believe had been an implanted suggestion when my friends had recommended I sleep with Shaw in order to knock him off his game, when we'd been competing for the partnership. I crossed my legs, the memory of it so naughty a sudden need began to blossom at my core. I'd never told Shaw about that dream. Looking at him now, I wondered whether he would have tried to reenact it if I had. We were so far away from that place now. I'd do anything to get back there, though.

Even get into a strange car with a scary driver to be taken to an unknown location.

Shaw reached over and took my hand, giving me a reassuring smile. I gaped down at where he held me, the act such a small thing, but it had been so long since he'd done even that much, I hadn't realized I'd been missing it. Until now.

We rode in awkward silence for a while, having no clue where we were or where we'd end up. After a bit, I heard the distinct sound of gravel under tires, the car's weight shifting ever so slightly, as if traversing uneven ground. We had to have been climbing because gravity pushed me back into my seat ever so slightly. And then we came to a stop.

Shaw squeezed my hand. “Well, guess we're here.”

“Wherever here is,” I mumbled.

The car door opened and our chauffeur took up the same stance as before, giving us enough room to exit. Shaw offered me his hand again, and I took it, following his line of sight once I got out.

I don't know what I'd been expecting—an office building, for sure—but instead it was a house. Splendid, but still just a house. And we were on top of a hill that looked out over the ocean in the distance from an A-frame log cabin with solid glass that made up the entire front. The giant trees that encased the house on both sides swayed back and forth in the ocean breeze, the sound of waves crashing on the shore in the distance a comforting cadence during an otherwise anxious moment.

The driver uttered his first words as he closed the car door behind us. “Dr. Minkov is waiting for you inside.” His voice was a deep baritone, almost Lurch-like in its cadence.

Again, Shaw thanked him. And again, the driver only nodded in response as he went around to get back into the car and pull away.

Shaw again put his hand at the small of my back. “Ready?”

“Not really, but I guess there's no backing out now,” I said, letting him guide me toward the porch.

By the time we'd climbed the steps, I saw movement inside the house. A well-dressed man in a suit greeted us at the front door, opening it wide before we'd had a chance to knock. “Shaw and Cassidy, I presume?”

“That would be us,” Shaw answered.

“Welcome to the home of Dr. Katya Minkov. Please, come inside. Dr. Minkov is expecting you.” He stepped to the side with a courteous smile to allow us passage before shutting us in.

“If you'll follow me, I'll take you to her office,” he said, taking up a comfortable pace forward as we fell in line behind him.

I couldn't help but look around in awe of Dr. Minkov's home. Though the floors and walls were made of a polished red cedar, the fixtures had a contrasting elegance of gold and crystal. The huge chandelier of teardrop crystals that hung above the main living space gave off prisms of rainbow light that reflected off the front floor-to-ceiling window, which provided a picturesque view of the moonlit ocean. A warm fire of driftwood crackled in the fireplace, scenting the air with a natural fragrance. Large area rugs and runners of deep red and cream to match the leather furniture covered the expanse of the flooring, giving the place a cozy sort of feel.

Down the corridor and to the left, we followed another hallway toward the back of the house, where our guide stepped inside the open door to a room.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable. Dr. Minkov will be with you shortly.” He bowed slightly, motioning for us to enter the room, and then he crossed back over the threshold to take his leave.

We were in an office, decorated much like the rest of the house, but with two chairs before a large ornate desk. There were no pictures on the desk or the walls, nothing that would hint at the personal life of this woman to whom we were expected to divulge the intimate details of our life.

Shaw walked over to the small couch in the center of the room, turning with his brow lifted in expectation for me to follow. I had no idea what we'd gotten ourselves into, but at this point, it was a little too late to back out.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, joining him. “I hope she doesn't keep us waiting long.”