How to Kill Your Boss (27 page)

His musk lingered, adding an unexpected warmth to the room. I sat up nice and slow, grabbed the pillow next to mine, and held it to my nose. It reeked of sweet alcohol. I looked to the bathroom, my heart flittering much faster than it should’ve been. It was empty. I slunk out of bed and pulled a pair of sweats over my naked legs. Lizzie was still asleep in the guest bedroom.

The rest of the condo was empty.

I hated the way grief made my whole body ache.

By the time I’d brewed an extra strong pot of coffee, Lizzie stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “Morning, sunshine.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and a slap on the ass. “Nice T-shirt.”

I brushed my hand down the front of it. “Thanks. Hey, did you hear anybody come in last night?” I handed her a cup of black heaven.

“No. I slept like a baby pumped full of Benadryl. God, it’s so quiet here at night.” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Why? Who would come in? Who else has a key?” She dumped half my sugar jar into her coffee and didn’t bother to stir.

“Franklin.” Holy cow, I couldn’t even say his name without blushing. It belonged on my tongue. It was mine to speak. And fuck my wounded heart, I’d die before letting another woman own it.

“He didn’t wake you?” she asked, eyes wide and smiling.

“No.”

“Hey, didn’t you say he put cameras in here?”

Cameras. How did I forget about those? “You’re brilliant. Yes. I’ve never used them, though. But I think I can access them through my computer. Or my phone. Maybe both.”

We ran like giddy schoolgirls to my computer and turned it on. Franklin left handwritten instructions right next to it when he’d installed my new security system. In a matter of minutes, Lizzie and I examined the video feed from the night before, fast forwarding to the good parts.

We’d called it a night around eleven-thirty. I cried and sang in my room for about an hour and a half. At two thirty-six, Franklin came in. Clearly inebriated by the sway in his step. He came straight to my room and stood in the doorway for a good twenty minutes before removing his jacket and slipping my headphones out of my ears. He put them on and listened. For ten minutes he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. Then he turned off the iPod, rolled to his side, and stroked my hair. He didn’t sleep. He watched me, occasionally brushing his fingers over my arm or my hip until five-thirty. He rose, got me a glass of water, and sat on the floor next to my bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. At six-fifteen, he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and left.

“Oh Tate, look at him. He’s so, so…” She scratched her head. “Not the Franklin I know.”

“Lizzie. What am I going to do?” How could I crave him so desperately when he’d left me with festering wounds?

Lizzie snapped her fingers in my face. “Snap the fuck out of this funk you’re in and go get that man. He loves you. Can’t you see that?”

I could see he was miserable. But was it just guilt? “It’s not that easy. You don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand, exactly? The hottest man in Seattle, possibly the entire western hemisphere, is sneaking into your room at night to be with you. He could be in any bed, naked, with any woman he wanted. He’s here, with you. Do you need to watch the playback again? He is so in love with you, and distraught, and sad. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it’s tearing him apart. He’s been drinking for days, Tate. I’ve known him for three years. He’s never done that before.”

“Lizzie, who knew?” I hugged her. “Under your tough exterior, you are a big softie. I bet you have romance novels stuffed under your bed, don’t you?”

“Eww. No, thank you. I’m more of a horror fan.” She rose and grabbed my empty mug. “More coffee?”

I nodded.

“When are you going back to work?”

Yeah. There was that little matter. I didn’t want the company. I didn’t want the headache, and I definitely didn’t want to inherit the bad rep. Wallace had done a number. I had to wipe my hands clean of the place. There was nothing left of my dad there. And quite frankly, I was kinda pissed at Dad. Or maybe, I couldn’t bear the weight of walking into that building every day knowing Franklin wouldn’t be sharing my space.

“I meet with the lawyers today. After that, I’ll check in at work.” I didn’t want to face my coworkers. I wanted to let the company crumble. But they had families. Bills to pay. I couldn’t do that to them.

“Good. Let’s get going then, shall we? I need to get back to the bar. Make sure they haven’t burned the place down in my absence.”

I pulled my new best friend in for a big bear hug. “Thanks for staying with me. It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it.”

Lizzie snorted. “I had fun, baby. Besides, it’s not like Franklin would take no for an answer.”

“I knew he put you up to this,” I huffed.

She grabbed my shoulders. “Hey, I would’ve come anyway. Like I said, the guy’s head over heels. Borderline obsessive, if you ask me.”

I laughed. “You have no idea.”

* * * *

I straightened my skirt, lifted my chin and pushed through the door. Nan stood at my desk, looking frazzled and shocked to see me. “Tatum. Hi.”

Her forlorn expression cut through the wall of defense I’d constructed in anticipation of our reunion. My heart melted for her. She’d lost a loved one. A secret loved one. Leaving her with no one to share her grief.

I hugged her tight. “How are you holding up?” I asked.

She sniffled. “Plugging along. I’m surprised to see you here.” Her embrace lacked any effort or emotion.

“Yeah, well. I guess I have a company to run,” I said, releasing her.

“So I hear.” Dark shadows clouded her eyes, but her face paled.

“Nan. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to take the lead while I figure out what the hell I’m doing. Everybody knows you run this place anyway.”

She looked at the floor and shifted her feet. “Tatum. I don’t know what to say. I assumed the worst of you and I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t. It was no secret I detested the man.” I paused and sucked in an encouraging breath. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Her eyes snapped to mine. Wide. Disbelieving. Relieved. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Years, Tatum. Years.”

“I’m sorry.” I was. How she could love a man like him, I’d never understand. But loss was loss. Grieving sucked.

“Thank you.”

“Is anyone else here?” I asked, plopping my tired rear into my chair.

“Yes. They came back for you, dear. Everyone except for John. I’m sure you’ve heard. Oh, and Franklin.” She hadn’t heard about Franklin. Nobody had. They couldn’t. I’d have to tell everyone he quit.

I still couldn’t believe John had been in on it. “Nan, I have to ask you something.” She stopped in the doorway and turned back toward me. “Did you know about the actors Wallace hired?”

“No. I didn’t. And I won’t believe it until I see proof.” Her voice cracked. God, she had been smitten. And delusional.

“Okay,” I conceded. How could she have loved the weasel and known the comings and goings of everyone in the company for the last four years and not have a clue about Wallace’s shenanigans? It wasn’t the day to push. “I’m not ready to dive in yet, but maybe you can help me get his office in order later this week.”

“I’ve already started. Hope you don’t mind. I figured you’d want to move in as soon as possible. You can’t run a company from this sad excuse for an office.” She offered a pathetic grin.

“I was hoping you’d take it. I’d rather work out of the janitor’s closet.”

Her face lit up.

“Let’s talk about this later. Today, it’s business as usual. I’ll man the phones, you do what you do. Sound good?” I asked.

“Sounds lovely.”

Relief washed some of the sadness from her eyes. She shot me a thankful glance and headed to her office. I got busy with my routine. Or tried, anyway.

My Franklin-sized hole was back. The place was a prison. The sun shone bright, but my office closed in around me, dark and dismal. Or maybe that was my spirit caving in.

I dug my cell from my purse and ran my finger over the screen. I could call him. Maybe the sound of his voice would soothe the ache. My finger itched to push the dial button. What would I even say?

The man had stalked me my whole life. He’d manipulated me from the shadows. Kept me from experiencing relationships or nurturing friendships. I had been an unknowing puppet. He’d been the master. How many boys had he threatened? Assaulted? Did Dad put him up to it or did he develop that skill on his own?

Was he watching me now? I studied the small room. There were few places a camera could hide. I wasn’t going to search. Instead, I flipped my middle finger to every corner of the room, scooped up my handbag and keys and headed down the hall.

My phone buzzed, announcing a text. A bomb exploded behind my left breast.

That wasn't nice.

Gah! Bastard was watching me. Fire brewed in my belly and spread to my aching brain. I strode to Nan’s office. She sat, staring blankly.

“You got things covered here?” I asked.

“What’s wrong? Your face is beet red.”

So was hers, but I didn’t want to say anything. “I have to go. Something’s come up. I hate asking you this, but can you handle things?”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Tatum. I’ve handled things for years. Go. Do what you have to do. You’re the boss now, remember? Oh, by the way, I put an ad out to hire a new receptionist.”

Huh. Wise move, considering I’d been promoted to head honcho. “You’re the best. You know that?”

She waved me off.

I stormed to the elevator, searching the corners and ceiling for cameras. I wouldn’t see them. Wasn’t sure why I bothered to look. I flipped my middle finger again. My phone buzzed.

You
’
re hurting my feelings.

God. Did he think this was funny? This needed to stop. Today. I couldn’t live my life constantly looking over my shoulder, guarding my every move.

I slid into my car and paused for some deep breathing exercises. My hands trembled with rage. My vision blurred with angry tears. I couldn’t drive until I calmed down. Resting my head against the seat, I studied the ceiling of my car. Nothing looked unusual. I flipped my middle finger and waited.

Nothing. When I’d calmed, I started the car and headed toward a confrontation that would either make or break me. Or, gauging by the thunderous roar of blood pounding through my ears, end with Franklin bloody at my feet.

Woman scorned and all.

* * * *

I drudged up the stairwell leading to his apartment, bursting with nervous energy. A rush of dread swept through me when I spied the bullet holes in the door. Bullets meant for me, that by some miracle had missed their mark. Except it wasn’t a miracle. It was Franklin Reed.

My first attempt at knocking was more of a tap. Sheesh, why was I so nervous to face him? I hit the door again with my palm and made it loud.

No answer.

I headed downstairs to the bar. Like a super magnet controlled me, my eyes were drawn to him seated in our special corner, hunched over the table, eyes glued to his cell. He didn’t look up.

Lizzie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “No trouble, okay?”

Did my fury show? “No trouble, I promise. Is he drunk?”

“No. He just came down. I haven’t served him yet. Don’t want to. I hate seeing him that way.”

Why did it warm my heart knowing she was watching out for him? “God, I love you, Lizzie.” I kissed her cheek.

I walked slowly to where he sat, biding time to let my courage build. He glanced up, eyes clouded with remorse. My knees buckled. When he caught my gaze, ten years melted off his face. He immediately stood, grabbed my elbow and led me out the back door.

I was out of breath by the time he pulled me into the apartment, not from exertion, but anticipation. Strong fingers sent pulses of electricity through me, striking my girlie parts. The man commanded my full compliance with the force of his being. I was doomed.

He closed the door and pushed me against it, pinning me with his hips. Oh, God. There wasn’t time to state my reason for coming. He tilted his head, searching my eyes, stealing my ability to speak, then took my mouth with fierce, desperate abandon.

He melted me from the inside out. The way that man kissed. Holy hell. It was lust, passion, need. But more than that, desperation. Like goodbye. Like this was the last time we’d share a lover’s embrace and he wanted to communicate everything he couldn’t put into words. He poured his heartache, remorse, and loneliness into it, expressing his internal struggle. I realized, in the midst of his brutally honest kiss, I didn’t want to be the cause of his torment. I wanted to be the cure.

I kissed him back, forcing my anger and hurt at him. My own desperate need. His strong hands slid up my back, then he cupped my head just below the stitches, protecting me from the hard door. Always shielding me.

His lips left mine and made their way down my neck, then over my thin blouse to my breast. Oh no, I was going to come. If he so much as breathed on my nipple, I would explode.

“Franklin, I—”

“Shhh.” He silenced me. “No words, not now, please, baby.” He worked the buttons of my blouse. “Just feel. Feel what you do to me.”

“No,” I moaned, unimpressed by my own conviction. I’d come here to put an end to this mad affair, hadn’t I?

“Not no. Not today. ‘No’ doesn’t exist.” He reached down, hiked up my skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waist of my panties. “Say ‘yes,’ love. Please. I’m suffocating. Can’t breathe without you.”

Oh crap. Why did he have to talk like that? “Yes,” I moaned. Wait. Shit, what was I doing? “No.” I shook my head and slapped my palm to his chest. “No.” I pushed, but he didn’t budge.

His hands fisted against my hips, and he dropped his forehead to mine.

“No.” Each time I said it, I reclaimed a few of my wits.

I’d never been overcome by such a mish-mash of emotion. I didn’t know how to sort or where to catalog. This was wrong, right? Franklin murdered people—he spied, lied, and God only knew what else. He said it was for the good guys. Did that make it right?