Crazy Nights (The Barrington Billionaires Book 3) (4 page)

T
wo days
. Emmitt had been gone for two days without so much as a phone call or a text message. She’d called his room a couple times and even knocked on the door. But there was no sign of him. The woman at the front desk assured her he hadn’t checked out, but she wouldn’t provide any other information if she had it.

Evie had spent the time mostly in the hotel. Since she threw Emmitt’s cash back in his face, she was relying mostly on billing things to the room. It wasn’t technically the high road since it was still his money, but a girl had to eat. The money she had in her bank account had to be conserved since she had no real prospects for a future at all.

She rinsed the last bit of lavender conditioner out of her hair and spun the shower knobs to the off position. Grabbing a clean fluffy towel, she wrapped herself up and swept her hand across the steam of the mirror. She looked hard into her own face as though the answer to the nagging question might be there.
Why the hell did he leave?

Evie was no prude, but she wasn’t promiscuous either. Her high school boyfriend was her first, and they stayed together for a couple years after that. When he went off to college she dated a few guys and slept with a couple of them. None had ever touched her the way Emmitt had. But none of them had ever left her so abruptly either. She must have done something or said something to run him off.

She was shaken from her thoughts by a knock on the hotel door. “Yes?” she answered tentatively.

“It’s Emmitt.” His gruff voice penetrated the door and sent shivers up her spine.

“I’m just getting out of the shower; hang on, I’ll get my robe,” she said, running her fingers through her wet hair to bring some life to it.

“No,” he bit back quickly. “Just get dressed and meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” she said through the door, looking quickly through the peephole to see if he was still there.

He looked annoyed, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he clenched his mouth shut. Emmitt stood for another moment or two, looking like there was more to say, then shook his head and walked away from her door.

After dressing quickly and blow-drying her hair, Evie hustled toward the lobby. She had a million questions for him and kept faltering between being angry and being sorry, even though she wasn’t positive why she felt either.

“Where have you been?” she asked, trying to sound cool and unaffected when she strode up to him in the glamourous hotel lobby.

“Doing recon,” he answered, without looking up from his cell phone. “You still dead set on staying up here? If you are, I have a job you can do.”

“I thought you might come back or at least call me. Did I do something wrong? The way you left—”

He cut her off, finally dropping his phone down. “That’s not happening again,” he asserted. “You want to do some stuff and make some money here, fine. I can probably use you. But we’re not doing
that
again.”

“Why?” she asked, fidgeting with her hands nervously. “You’re the one who kept saying—”

“You just aren’t my type. I’m not interested.”

“Oh,” she croaked out. “Yeah, all right. That’s fine.”

“So when I knock on your door, don’t answer it with just that robe on again.”

She looked up at him curiously as she worked it over in her head. “Why would it matter what I had on if you’re not interested in me?”

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly as if the wheels in his head spun for an answer. “I need you to go to Lance’s office today and plug this into one of the computers.” The subject changed so fast and with such assertiveness she didn’t feel she could drive him harder toward answering her question.

“All right,” she said, taking a small zip drive from his hand. “Am I just supposed to walk in there and do it? Won’t I need a badge or something?”

“Those are your badge,” he said, pointing to her chest.

“Excuse me,” she asked incredulously, covering herself with her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The daytime security guard’s name is Sinclair. He’s a sucker for a damsel in distress and a nice set of boobs. You wear that pink top you have with the little roses on it, give him a few kind words, wink, and he’ll let you right up.”

“Which pink shirt?” she asked, ignoring how insulting the rest of the proposal was.

“That one with the lace trim. You wore it to Mathew and Jessica’s that night they were celebrating some shit. I can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember it was Jessica’s birthday, but you remember the shirt I was wearing?” She cocked her head to the side as she glared at him. There was something behind the shutters of his eyes but they were nailed shut.

“Go change,” he said, looking down at his watch. “I’d like to be in and out of there early.”

“Then what?”

“Then I take the data and information you download and start formulating a proposal for Asher on the security assessment.”

“But I mean, like what about lunch? Or tonight, what else are we doing up here? I’m sick of eating room service.”

“I’ll pay you for the work you do today, then you can go eat wherever you want.”

“Can you just tell me what I’m doing wrong?” she asked in a huff. “I’m a nice person.”

“Exactly,” he replied as he spun on his heel and headed for the door. “Change and meet me out front. We’ll go over the rest of the plan on the way.”

When Evie went back downstairs she wasn’t exactly proud of the time she took to perk up her boobs into her most flattering bra and wearing the shirt Emmitt had suggested. But if she was tired of falling short on everything, maybe this would be the first thing in a while she could do right.

Emmitt had the door to the cab held open already as she stepped onto the street. When his eyes hit her body she felt the force of his stare.

“This shirt?” she asked, already knowing the answer by the look on his face. He offered back some noise, a grunt of some kind from low in his throat.

“Last chance to back out,” Emmitt said as he slid into the seat next to her, his thigh banging into hers then retreating back to his side. “I’ve met toddlers with better poker faces than you.”

“If you don’t think I can . . .” she stammered, a nervous prickle overtaking her body.

“I’ve made it impossible to screw up,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

“What happens if I get caught?”

“Did you pack your toothbrush and spare underwear for prison?” Emmitt asked, not sparing her a glance as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“I can’t go to jail,” she chirped nervously. “Are you being serious?” A cold sweat broke over her body at the idea of being put in handcuffs and hauled away.

“Just do what I say,” he repeated. “You’ll be fine.”

A
fter surviving
dozens of operations through hostile territory, sending Evie into Lance’s office had Emmitt feeling queasy. She wasn’t going to go to jail, even if she was caught. But to keep her out of trouble he’d likely have to out Asher Barrington for pulling the strings behind the scenes. That would almost certainly close the door on any chance of West Oil working with Asher.
Failure.

That would mean not only had he not one-upped his brother, he’d fucked things up too. And as much as Evie talked about her own string of failures, they were nothing compared to Emmitt’s. Everyone considered him an emotional tsunami, leaving devastation in his wake. And he continued to fulfill that prophecy. He always figured consistency should count for something.

But as Evie disappeared through the doors of Lance’s office building he worried this time was different. Not because he might fuck up, but because for some inexplicable reason, he really didn’t want to. And the idea that he cared about the outcome unsettled him to the core.

“Can you hear me all right?” he asked in a low voice, making sure no one passing by the bench he was on could hear him. “No need to go talking to yourself in full sentences. The microphone piece I put on the inside of your shirt is very sensitive. I can hear the smallest acknowledgement.” He fought off the image of the top of her breasts, heaving with nervous breaths as he pinned the small microphone piece to her.

“Mhm,” she murmured quietly.

“So once you get past Sinclair at the front desk you’ll be heading up.”

“Mhm,” she repeated, then he heard her break into a breathy laugh. “Oh my word,” she said and giggled. “I swear if my head wasn’t screwed on I’d leave it at home. That’s what my ex-boyfriend used to always say.”

“What can I help you with?” Emmitt heard Sinclair ask, and he could tell from the tone Evie would get exactly what she wanted. The man was no gatekeeper.

“I left my badge back home,” she explained, and he could hear her slap a hand to her forehead. “Such a blonde move, I know. I’m with the IT consulting company, and I’m already fifteen minutes late. What do I do?” The desperate little plea in her voice was so authentic Emmitt could tell her nerves were rattled.

“Don’t’ worry,” Sinclair whispered. “I know how it is. It happens more than you think. I’m not even sure why we have these silly badges in the first place. I let everyone up anyway.”

“You sweetheart,” she chirped. “Why aren’t there more men in the world like you? I swear I can’t remember the last time I crossed paths with a gentleman like yourself. Your wife is a lucky woman.”

“Oh I’m not married,” Sinclair corrected. “Divorced and single, ready to mingle.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Emmitt groaned. “Wrap it up already.”

“How in the world are you single? Stop it,” Evie continued. “I’m sure the right woman is around the corner for you. Just keep being you, Sinclair.”

“Shucks,” Sinclair chuckled, and Emmitt could practically see his pox marked face blushing.

“Hey love doctor, he never told you his name. Good thing he’s busy staring at your tits, or you’d be blowing this whole thing up right now.”

“I better get going.” She sighed. “The guys I work for are real,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “jerks. They tell me what to do all day and treat me like an idiot. Not to mention there’s this one really bad one who started helping me on this project. I thought things were going great, I was really excited and then boom, he just bails on me. He just left me standing there like he couldn’t even see me. It was very embarrassing.”

Emmitt felt his dick react before he could figure out what to say. He knew exactly what “project” Evie was alluding to. Walking away from her smooth skin, her arching back, and her moaning lips had taken all of his willpower. Just the thought of it now was enough to zap his logic. All he could picture was her until some chattering women passed by, laughing, and finally centered him again.

“You remember where you’re going from here?” he asked, clearing his throat and shifting his body so the firm bulge in his pants couldn’t be seen by every passerby.

“Mhm, I’m great,” she said with, in his opinion, far too much confidence. Nothing jeopardized a mission more than arrogance. “If you’re really concerned with not adding this to your list of recent mistakes you might want to do exactly what I tell you.”

“I know what I have to do,” she whispered. “And you’re freaking me out. I’ve got this.” He heard the familiar static rustling of the earpiece being handled, and he could tell instantly it was switched off as was the microphone.

“Evie,” he growled, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear him. Emmitt stood, took five steps toward the street, ready to cross, then stopped. Looking down at his watch, remembering the plan, he knew Evie would already be upstairs. She’d be looking for the utility room that, with any luck, would be unlocked. Considering the lack of security for the building, the odds were in their favor. If she was paying attention in the car, she’d know exactly where to plug in the zip drive, and she’d remember to wait for it to turn green before removing it.

He backed himself up to the bench and sat down again. There would be nothing for him to do out here but wait. Wait and plan exactly what he’d say to her when she came out. Once he saw her strut across that street, once he knew she was all right, he was going to have to find a way to punish her.

E
vie could only imagine
how pissed Emmitt was right now. His instructions had been explicit and unwavering. He’d gone over every step ten times, but the look of unease in his eyes was freaking her out. His voice in her ear, like an intimate whisper, only made her legs shake even more. Pulling the earpiece out and turning off the little microphone taped to her shirt wasn’t about making some power move. It was self-preservation. She needed his low rumbling voice out of her head so she could stop imagining his tongue crawling up her neck. She needed to focus.

But none of it was nearly as hard as she imagined. It was actually pretty anticlimactic, which was becoming a theme in her life. Her sexual encounter with Emmitt had ended with the same feeling.
A whole lot of nothing.

Evie spent most of her life worrying what other people were thinking of her, but now the farther from home she got the more she realized people hardly looked up. Everyone was busy on their phones, in their own little worlds. She had no trouble moving through Lance Barrington’s office and opening the unlocked utility room. The people she did pass flashed a smile or gave a quick nod of the head and returned promptly to their distractions.

When she was done and stepped onto the elevator, she decided to click the earpiece back on. “Emmitt,” she said through a smile, “I did it. I’m in the elevator on my way down.”

“Sophie Barrington is on her way into the lobby,” Emmitt barked, not even acknowledging her update. “Don’t cross paths with her. We’re trying to stay off the radar. There’s a bathroom to your left when you get off the elevator. Duck in there.”

“All right,” she droned, knowing but not caring that she sounded disappointed. She’d hoped for his praise, some kind of shocked happiness at her accomplishment. She had so few lately, it was nice to finally do something right. But it only counted if other people cared.

As she pushed open the door to the bathroom she clicked off the microphone and earpiece. If he was pissed again that was on him. This was the bathroom for goodness sake. Stepping into a stall she grumbled to herself, “A thank you would have been nice. I’m the one sticking my neck out.”

She put her cell phone down on the small shelf in the stall. Trying to adjust the uncomfortable earpiece it suddenly slipped from her ear and bounced across the floor. “Shoot,” she blurted out, bending quickly to try to retrieve it. The last thing she needed was to break even on this job, having to replace some delicate and expensive listening device.

Like a slow motion scene from a nightmare, she watched the zip drive she’d just filled with all the pertinent information, fall from her pocket and splash into the toilet. “Nooo,” she cried loudly and her words bounced off the walls, echoing loudly. Panic set in quickly as she watched the floating piece of plastic taunt her.

Yanking off one of her pumps, she winced as she dipped it into the toilet and fished the drive out. The tears came fast and furious as sobs bubbled up from her. The shoes were one of her only decent pairs and the ruined zip drive her only recent victory.

“Are you all right in there?” she heard a small voice ask through the stall door.

“No,” she sniffled. She was not all right. Nothing in her life was all right.

“Are you sick?” the kind soothing voice asked again. “I have some aspirin out here, and I can get you a bottle of water. How can I help?”

Grabbing some toilet paper Evie fished the drive out of her shoe and shoved it in her pocket. Her dripping red pump still clutched in her hand as she stumbled out of the stall, tears still staining her cheeks.

“Oh sweetheart,” the sharply dressed woman with perfectly styled hair said in a singsong voice as she looked Evie over appraisingly, “is your shoe wet?”

“Toilet water,” Evie croaked out with a defeated shrug as though it was just her luck. Another day in the life of Evie Pike.

“Oh,” the woman said, furrowing her brows up and looking mildly aghast. “Why don’t you just toss that right there in the trash, and you can have these.” She fished a pair of sandals from her large designer purse. “I keep them with me just in case my heel breaks. Things like that always seem to happen at the most inconvenient time. So I like to be prepared.”

Evie did as she was instructed and deposited the shoe into the trash. Washing her hands, she avoided glancing at herself in the mirror. She knew she was all running mascara and frazzled hair right now.

“I can’t take those,” she said with a shake of her head as she toweled off her hands. “Those look like a very nice pair, and I couldn’t afford to pay you back for them.”

“What’s your name dear?” the woman asked, tilting her head to the side and smiling with a hint of pity. Evie was reminded of her own mother sitting across from her after a particularly hard day at junior high with a plate of cookies and as many solutions as she could muster.

“Evie,” she sighed, deciding the one heel she had left on didn’t make much sense. She pulled it off and tossed it in the trash as well.

“My name is Sophie,” the woman said as she put a hand on Evie’s shoulder and led her out of the bathroom. Finding a bench in the large lobby of the office building, Sophie gestured for her to sit.

“I should go,” Evie said. “I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere because all I do is screw things up. Over and over again.”

“First of all, this is my son’s building so you’re welcome to stay on this bench as long as you like. Second of all, I’m sure whatever you think you’ve screwed up can be remedied. Now put on these sandals.” She pushed the strappy gold shoes back at her and Evie accepted. Mostly because she couldn’t think of anything besides the fact that the one woman Emmitt had asked to avoid was now sitting by her on a bench handing her a tissue.

“Trust me,” she argued, realizing now she didn’t have an exit strategy so she might as well just steer into the pain. This woman seemed nice and Evie could use a little empathy, believing Emmitt was an empty well in that department. “I have a laundry list of things I’ve gotten wrong lately. I’m just trying to find my path. I really thought I was well on my way to fixing all the broken parts in my life. I had a plan, and now I have absolutely nothing at all figured out. I can’t go home. Not until I can get a handle on things. But at the same time I miss home so much. But I can’t go back.”

“Why not?” Sophie asked, leaning in and touching Evie’s shoulder gently. She looked pained by Evie’s aching heart, a true testament to a woman who knew what it meant to listen. To really listen. “Maybe that’s what you need? Going home can be very healing.”

“My mother,” Evie said with the shake of her head. “I just can’t face it right now. I can’t go back. But what do I have if I stay here? I’m not even qualified to get a coffee order correct. There has to be something wrong with me,” she rambled through more tears. “He doesn’t even see me when he looks at me. I’m right there in front of him, and he just walks away. It’s like he can tell I’m worthless. He can see it.”

“Slow down,” Sophie insisted gently with a tiny knowing laugh. “First off, any man who can’t see your worth shouldn’t take up even a minute of your time. Second, and please know this is from personal experience, you can always go back home. My daughter and I have had our troubles, but we’re making it work. Some days it really works. But you won’t get anywhere if you don’t face it.”

“I just wish I knew where I was supposed to be. I wish I was doing exactly what I was meant to do.” Evie banged her fist into her other palm, angry with her failures. “Something that can actually help the people in my life.”

“Life’s not a ladder you climb, Evie,” Sophie said eloquently. “You don’t arrive at the top, at the last rung, and realize you’ve made it. Life’s a big bright painting full of textures and colors. Every inch should be explored and touched and examined. Some days you’re a work of art and other days you’re just a work in progress. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself to get somewhere.” Sophie’s eyes were flooding with compassion as she maternally brushed back a lock of Evie’s hair. “You’ve already arrived, Evie. You’re sitting right in the middle of the beautiful painting you’ve made.”

“I should go clean up,” Evie said, rising finally as she began to feel a little better. “I’m so sorry to just fall apart like this. A complete stranger just crying over all her troubles. It’s mortifying.” She turned her back slightly and patted her eyes with the tissue.

“There you are? Why are you crying? Are you all right?” Emmitt’s hands came to her shoulders more gently than she imagined him capable. “Did something happen?”

“I’m all right,” she coughed out, not wanting Emmitt to say something compromising about why they were here in front of Sophie in case he hadn’t spotted her yet. “I was having a hard time, and I ran into Sophie here. She’s been so nice to me.”

“Oh,” Emmitt said, biting at his lip and nodding his head. Sophie sprang to her feet and extended her hand.

“Sophia Barrington,” she sang. “I really didn’t help that much. Evie’s quite a lovely young lady. And you are?”

“Emmitt Kalling,” he said through a forced smile. “I believe you know my brother, Mathew.”

“Oh yes, Mathew Kalling. What a wonderful charity he and his girlfriend are starting up. I hope things are going well for them. I’m excited to get involved.”

“Things are moving along,” Emmitt said, and Evie could practically feel seething anger shooting out of him. He kept a pretty straight poker face but his little tells were making his true feelings apparent to her. “We should get going, Evie. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Barrington.”

“Oh please call me Sophie. And Evie, don’t forget what I said.” She leaned in and hushed her voice. “You can always go home.”

“Thank you, Sophie,” Evie said through her last sniffle. “I really appreciate the shoes.”

“I have these tickets to the symphony tonight, and my husband and I aren’t able to go. I just hate the idea of thinking of empty seats. Would you be willing to go in our place, Evie?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.” Evie said, waving the idea off. “I don’t know my way around Boston. It’s my first time in the city.”

“I happen to have the phone numbers of plenty of eligible bachelors in here who would be delighted to show you the city and accompany you tonight. That’s if you didn’t come up with a date on your own.”

“Well,” Evie said, unable to keep her eyes from Emmitt. She darted them away quickly and dropped her head down. He’d be more likely to take her to the closest airport than a night at the symphony. Actually she’d be lucky if he even let her in the cab after this.

“I’m free tonight,” Emmitt said in a cool deep voice. “I love the symphony in Boston. I haven’t been in years.”

“Didn’t that work out nicely,” Sophie said, handing the ticket over to Evie.

“I’ll go get us a cab,” Emmitt said as he nodded goodbye. “Thank you so much for the tickets.”

“So that’s the guy?” Sophie asked with a knowing smile and a wink.

“Yes,” Evie admitted bashfully.

“He sees you,” Sophie replied through a laugh. “While you were patting those tears away you didn’t see him crossing the lobby looking like his heart was being torn out. You didn’t see that look in his eyes when he thought something was wrong. Men always seem to show their truest emotions when they think no one can see them. But I was watching.”

“Really?” Evie asked, trying to tamp down the flutter of hope that pumped in her heart.

“Enjoy the symphony.” Sophie grinned as she spun and strolled away with a hint of victory in her step.

Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe Emmitt did care for her and the symphony would be the perfect place to find out. Just like one of those romantic movies she never had a chance to star in. The only problem was, she still had to break it to him that the zip drive fell in the toilet and was ruined. But if Sophie was right, if he cared about her, he’d be able to look past it.