GONE - Part Two (The GONE Series Book 2)
Read GONE - Part Two (The GONE Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Deborah Bladon
GONE
Part Two
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
Deborah Bladon
First Original Edition, December 2014
Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Bladon
ISBN: 9781926440125
Cover Design by
Wolf & Eagle Media
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
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FUSE
"I told someone." I don't elaborate as I stare past his shoulder towards a group of women who have settled into the chairs at a table next to us.
The toe of his shoe pushes against mine when he slides it across the tiled floor. "Someone you work with or a friend?"
I wouldn't define Clive Parker as my friend. I feel a small smile fleetingly drift over my lips at the notion that we would ever be friends. I worked for him. We had sex. I don't know how to explain that so I won't. "He owns the company I worked at."
"Worked at?" He leans forward until his elbows catch the edge of the small, circular table. "What does that mean?"
Avoiding eye contact with him isn't going to change the scope of this conversation. I came to the hospital to talk to him. He's the only person I can confide in and if I want to leave this cafeteria feeling less emotionally spent than I do, I have to be honest with him. "I quit my new job, Ben."
"Lil." He straightens in his chair. "When we were texting last week you told me you landed a job at Corteck."
It's a statement. It's not a question but the implied expectation of a response is there. "I'm talking about Corteck. That's the job I quit."
"All you've talked about for the past few years is working there." He raises one dark brow as his brown eyes scan my face. "You're telling me you finally got a job there and then quit after telling the owner about…"
The words drift off the same way they usually do when the conversation veers towards the topic of my family. It's been this way since I met Ben Foster in the grief support group I sought solace in after I was shot. He's a doctor, but more than that, he's become an older brother to me. I see the same pain I feel within me when I look in his eyes. His mother died when he was a teenager so he understands my loss in ways most people can't.
"Why did you tell him?" He taps his index finger over the top of my hand. "More importantly, why did you quit after telling him?"
I pull my hand away to run it over the length of my hair, smoothing it as I do. "He accused me of something and I told him about my past to prove that he was wrong."
I see the hesitation in his expression before he speaks. "What did he accuse you of?"
I knew that there was a strong possibility when I came to see Ben that he'd ask me that question. I haven't shared the painful details of what happened in Clive's office before I quit my job with anyone. After bolting out of Corteck's headquarters, I went straight to the apartment I shared with Rebecca. I'd thrown everything I owned back into the two suitcases I brought with me to New York and I raced out of the building even though it was the middle of the day and she was still at work. She'd tried to call and text me several times since I moved out two days ago, but I have nothing to say to her. She's Clive's friend and she had to have known that he wanted me to live with her so he could hunt through my computer when I wasn't home.
"Do you remember that app that I talked about?" I know I can move the conversation in a different direction but I came here to lean on his strong, broad shoulders and I have to open up if that's going to happen.
"The one I helped you with?" His face brightens instantly. "I've been thinking more about it. I think there's a way we can improve it."
I smile at his reference to the medical travel app that he helped me develop. When I had initially brought up the idea with him, he'd jumped at the chance to participate. Given his expertise as an emergency room physician, it only made sense that I took his input and ran with it. "I want to hear about that. I have a check for your percentage of sales from last month."
"I told you that I don't want any of that." He smiles. "You did all the work to get it out there. All I did was offered some advice."
He's being modest. It's a character trait of Ben's that I've long admired. He does good work in the world and rarely takes any credit for it. His latest focus has been a new charitable endeavor that helps individuals who don't have the financial means to get the medical care they need. He's partnered with his fiancée, Kayla, to launch the Foster Foundation. It's a non-profit in memory of his mother that he's working on alongside his twin brother, Noah. Each and every time he tells me about it I feel an unwelcome bite of envy. He has a family and they are working together to make a difference in people's lives. It's what I'm trying to do with the organ donor app.
"I'd like to donate your percentage to the Foundation if you won't take it," I say it while trying to hold in my emotion. I know how much Ben wants to help others and if I can contribute to that, as a silent way to thank him for always being there for me, it's something I feel compelled to do.
"I'd like that." He nods slowly. "Let's get back to Corteck. Tell me what happened, Lil."
"I had to sign some contracts before I started working there." I scrub my hand across my face. "One of them gave my boss access to any computer I own."
"What?" His brow furrows. "How can they do that? It seems like an invasion of privacy to me."
Defending Clive Parker's employment requirements isn't on my to-do list today but I'm the one who signed the form without thoroughly reading it. "I think it's a standard thing when you work for a tech firm. They're all protective of their future developments."
"So someone went through your work computer?" He tilts his chin towards me. "What did they find? You were surfing on gossip sites when you should have been working?"
I'm not a gossip hound but I find it amusing that Ben's pegged me as one. I wish the issue were something as simple and innocent as that. "It was my personal laptop. All of my files about the organ donor app I've been working on are on there."
He leans back in the plastic chair he's sitting in as he studies my face. "Shit, Lil. That must have pissed you off. I know how protective you are about that."
He knows that because each time I've brought up the app with him, I've asked him to keep it between us. As much as I feel it will benefit anyone involved in an organ donation, it's also an emotionally wrenching subject for me. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I'm not even sure I'll ever have the fortitude to bring the app to market. If I do, I want it to be available free of charge. Making a profit off of anyone involved in such a difficult situation isn't appealing to me at all.
"That's why you quit, isn't it?" He pushes the question out between clenched teeth and before I have a chance to respond, he continues, "I can go down there and give them a piece of my mind if you want."
I grin across the table at him. This is the part of him that I need and cherish. Ben is the closest thing I have to a family now since my grandmother died just over a year ago. "You don't need to be a superhero," I joke. "I can take care of myself."
He playfully raises his arm, flexing his right bicep beneath the fabric of his white lab coat. "I know you can but while we're on that topic, what are you doing for work now?"
Even though the notion of going back to Boston to work at the café has crossed my mind more than a dozen times, I won't do it. I'm in New York City and since my dream job is now over and done with, I'm moving on to bigger, and hopefully, better things. "I've started applying at some other tech firms."
He scratches his neck while he studies my face. "I have a solution in the interim."
"What?" I ask with a wide smile on my face. Ben's solutions to life's problems almost always involve him opening his wallet. He's generous to a fault and I'm prepared to hear him offer me some money disguised as a loan he won't expect me to pay back.
"Kayla's been looking for someone to help her with some computer stuff with the Foundation." He takes a small sip of the coffee that's been sitting in the paper cup in front of him for the past twenty minutes. "Would you have time to go down to the office this week and give her a hand?"
Even if my schedule didn't consist of more than dropping off resumes and watching the television in my hotel room, I'd jump at the chance to help Ben. "I'll do it."
"Kayla can put you on contract for the time being." He pushes his hand against the table's edge, readying himself to stand. "I don't want your roommate tossing you out because you can't make rent."
This is where I tell him that I'm living in an extended stay hotel near LaGuardia airport. It's also the point where I ask him to help me with the one task I've been putting off for the past six years. "Ben, I wanted to talk about something else."
He stands just as the words leave my lips. "Can we talk later, Lil? I'm late to get back to the ER."
I nod with a faint smile as I feel his lips brush over my forehead before he turns and walks away.
"Lilly."
I flinch when I hear his voice in the space behind me. It's not as though I can jump up from the chair I'm in and sprint across the crowded library towards the exit. I need to turn around and face him. That or I need to ignore him completely with the hope that he'll take the hint and leave me alone. I'm not one for subtle trickery though. I need to get this over with and the library, with its expected rules of protocol in place, seems like as good a spot as any.
"Mr. Parker." I twist around to look up at him. He's dressed in a tailored black suit and matching shirt. It's a stark and stunning look for mid-morning on a Friday.
"I'd like to speak to you." His eyes dart around the large room as if he's searching for a secluded corner that he can pull me into.
I motion with my hand to a chair next to where I'm sitting at a long, rectangular table. "We can talk here."
He hesitates before lowering himself into the wooden chair. The weight of his body pulls an audible creak from the weathered timber. "I'd prefer if we do this in private."
I don't look at him as I slowly close my laptop. My first instinct when I heard his voice was to slam it shut but I hadn't. He has already seen all the secrets I keep harbored on the hard drive so the need to shield it from his eyes seems illogical. It's much like a lover hiding behind the veil of a bed sheet after making love with the lights on.
"I prefer if we do it here." I slip my computer into the leather laptop bag I bought when I first started classes at MIT. It's worn and battered, but the familiarity it offers me is comforting in an abstract way.
"I've been looking for you since you walked out of my office."
I'm tempted to toss back a retort about wondering why he didn't just resort to the GPS tracking software that he installed on my computer when he helped himself to its contents a few days ago. I refrain though because it if I spit the words out he may see the sliver of truth that's woven into them. I had run several spyware programs on my laptop after I'd checked into the hotel but I found nothing at all. I don't trust him and I doubt that I need to announce that to him. "How did you know I'd be here?"
His gaze flies over the two people sitting near the end of the table. "I've been here six times the past three days. I hoped eventually you'd show up."
Predictability isn't a good bedfellow when you're trying to avoid someone you shouldn't have slept with in the first place. I came back to the library because I feel safe and understood here. Maybe it's the rows of books or perhaps it's just the expectation that you don't have to make small talk with anyone while you're here. I'm drawn to it because it reminds me of a time when I was a child and the world didn't feel as bitter and unfair as it does to me now.
"I haven't been answering your calls." I lean back to cross my legs, smoothing my hands over the fabric of my navy blue dress. "You should have taken the hint. Hunting me down was a waste of your time."
He mirrors my stance. His shoe taps against the leg of my chair as he crosses his own legs. "If I was hunting you down, Lilly, I would have found you immediately."
I don't doubt that. Even if he hadn't placed anything on my computer to track my whereabouts, he had the resources to find me in an instant. I had used the name Lilly Randall to check into the hotel. It's my legal name now although it still feels foreign whenever I introduce myself. It had been my mother's maiden name and each time I say or write it, I'm reminded of her gentle guidance. "What do you want?"
He studies my face before he answers, "I want to apologize."
I exhale softly. I should ask him what the apology is for. I want him to feel some sense of guilt over the fact that he was tender and loving in bed and then with calculated determination he made a conscious decision to pull me away from my home so he could gain access to my private files. I want him to feel badly about it but the growing knot in the pit of my stomach is telling me that he's not feeling anything but a sense of accomplishment.
"I didn't handle things very well." He pauses, "I had no idea about your family."
Talking about what happened won't change the facts of that day. All of the therapy sessions I've gone to and the grief support group meetings I've attended have taught me that. I've learned how to cope. Getting through each day now is less of a struggle than it was five years ago, but it will never be a subject I openly embrace. "I regret bringing it up."
"I pushed you into a corner," he says evenly. "I'm very protective of my sister's memory. When I saw those files on your computer I just assumed that you…"
"You just assumed that I was going to use her name to try and make a profit," I interrupt. "I get it."
He glances at me. "There's no way I could have known about your past, Lilly. If I had, I wouldn't have jumped on you the way I did."
"Mr. Parker." I uncross my legs, taking a moment to adjust the hem of my dress. "You made assumptions about me. I made assumptions about you. We were both wrong. I don't think we need to discuss this any further."
"What assumptions did you make about me?" His hand reaches to touch my thigh.
As tempted as I am to swat it away in a dramatic gesture of forbiddance, I don't. Drawing any attention to the two of us isn't my goal. I want to end this conversation so I have time to pull my emotions together before I go to the interview I have scheduled in a little over an hour. "I assumed that the man you were in bed was the same man you were in the office."
I watch his face, seeing the internal debate raging within. "I am the same man, Lilly."
"You once said I was too young." I reach to pull my laptop bag onto my legs. "I wanted to argue that point with you but I think you're right."
The only response he offers is a cock of his brow as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"I'm smart enough to know that I'm not mature enough to separate my feelings from sex." I hold his gaze as I continue, "I thought you trusted me after we made love. I guess I thought it meant something to you because it meant something to me."
"It did mean something to me." He exhales in a rush. "That's why it tore me up inside when I saw the files for the app on your computer. I thought you'd gone behind my back to develop something very personal to me."
I push myself to my feet, needing to gain distance from not only him, but also all of the emotions I've been keeping at bay for the past few days. "I understand why you'd think that. I know all about protecting the memory of the people we love. What I can't understand is that you felt the need to look at my computer at all. I guess I just thought that what happened between us…what happened at your place meant more than it did."
"It meant a lot to me." He stands. "I was only trying to protect myself. My business is the only thing I have left."
I bite my lip to fight off the urge to laugh in his face. "Your business is safe from me, Clive. I don't want anything to do with it or you."
"Don't say that, Lilly." He sighs. "This is all a big misunderstanding. I want to talk about you coming back to work. I want to talk about your family."
"No." I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. "You must have dug up every detail you could about my family after I quit. I doubt there are any blanks I need to fill in for you."
The slight blush that rushes over his cheeks is all the confirmation I need. "I was concerned, Lilly. You didn't expect me to ignore it, did you?"
Of course I didn't. Anyone in his position would have scrambled to find out as much as they could about that night six years ago. You can call it morbid fascination or genuine concern. Regardless, the results are the same. He researched what happened and he knows all the unforgiving facts about the one night that completely altered my life. I feel more exposed right now than I did three days ago when he accused me of being heartless all in pursuit of a dollar.
"I have to be somewhere." I glance over his shoulder to where a large, ornate clock is hanging on the wall. "We don't have anything left to discuss."
He shifts slightly on his feet as if he's clearing a path so I can move past him. "We're not done. I'll be in touch."
I don't acknowledge the comment. We are done. We were done the moment he opened my laptop, pressed the power button and broke my trust.
