Nightingale (31 page)

“There you are!” Piper said, getting up and pulling me into a tight hug. “I was getting worried about you. I called your office and your cell, but you didn’t answer. I thought something might have happened.”

“I’m fine,” I said, returning her hug. “I turned the phones off so I could get some work done. I should have told you I would be late. Sorry. But something did happen—Talon showed up at my office.”

Piper wanted all the juicy details right away, but I made her order a Pizzazz pizza first. Over slices topped with ham, pineapple, and extra mozzarella, I told her about Talon appearing on my balcony—and taking me on a moonlight ride across the city.

“How romantic! I wish I had a superhero for a boyfriend.” Her eyes drifted to the Swifte clock on the wall.
 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I insisted. “He doesn’t even like me. He’s just letting me help him find the flash drive, humoring me because Bandit tried to put a bullet in my head.”

Piper gave me a knowing smirk. “Oh, he’s your boyfriend—he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Pizza forgotten, Piper started talking about how much time we’d been spending together, how he kept showing up wherever I was, and of course, the kicker—the fact that we’d slept together. Piper was so wrapped up in her speech she didn’t even notice when Rascal hopped up in a chair, snatched her half-eaten slice, and downed it in two gulps before either one of us could stop him. She sneezed, absently patted him, and prattled on some more about destiny, karma, and true love.

I let her words wash over me as I helped myself to another slice of pizza. No matter what Piper said, no matter what she proclaimed or what her Mr. Sage calendar said, I knew the truth. There was only one woman Talon was interested in, and it wasn’t me. At least, it wasn’t the real me—it was Nightingale.

I sighed. Rascal took the sound as a cue that he could have some more pizza. He put his nose on the table, nudging the white cardboard box toward the edge. I grabbed the box just before it slid over the side and took the last two pieces with it. Rascal whined, upset over the loss of his pizza.

“Sorry, boy,” I said, getting another slice. “But I need this a lot more than you do.”

#

I spent the night on Piper’s sofa, tossing, turning, and trying not to think about Talon. Rascal awakened me the next morning with a pizza-flavored tongue bath.

“Ugh. You little mutt,” I groused, rubbing his ears. “What am I going to do with you? Besides buy you some toothpaste?”

“I might have a solution,” Piper sat at the kitchen table drinking apple juice and reading the latest edition of
The Exposé
. “I’ve been talking to some people about taking him off your hands. Kyle said he’d loved to have a dog.”

“He did?”
 

“Yep.”
 

She tried to pretend like it was nothing, but I could have heard the slight catch in her voice even if I didn’t have superhearing.

“Wait a minute. Why were you talking to Kyle? What happened to
I hope the rotten bastard gets an STD and can never have sex again
? Remember? That was your latest diabolical thought.”

Piper sighed. “Kyle and I might not be together anymore, but I still care about him. I always will, despite what he did to me. Besides, I should get something out of him dumping me.”

I couldn’t argue with that. There wasn’t much you could do with a broken heart, not even when you were as optimistic as Piper.

“There’s a storage room at
Quicke’s
where Rascal could stay during the day while Kyle works,” she continued. “I think Kyle wants to make Rascal some sort of mascot. Maybe even dress him up in a little cape. Wouldn’t that be cute?”

“Oh, yeah. Cute.”

Rascal barked, as though he liked the idea. I hugged the puppy to my chest. Over the past few days, I’d gotten attached to the little guy. I wasn’t sure how I felt about giving him away. He’d grown on me, wormed his way into my heart as easily as he did everyone else’s. Maybe that was his real superpower.

But it would be better for him to be with someone else. Someone who could really be around for him, instead of shuffling him from place to place. Someone who had time to play with him and feed him and love him. Running my own business sucked up most of my time, and it wouldn’t be fair to Rascal to be locked in my office or loft all day long, to always be at the bottom of my to-do list instead of at the top. He deserved better than that. I
wanted
him to have better than that.

As much as I would miss Rascal, giving him to Kyle would be for the best. Besides, it would give me another excuse to berate the caterer, if he didn’t take good care of my puppy.

Piper left to go to work, and so did I, taking Rascal with me. By ten o’clock, I’d done everything I should have, except for one item—call Wesley and update him on his event. His was the only message I hadn’t returned.
 

I leaned back in my chair and stared at my phone. I should call him. I shouldn’t put it off any longer. Shouldn’t wait. And I definitely shouldn’t go see him in person.

My hand hovered over the phone. Rascal raised his head off his cushion. Then, he scrambled up, hurtled across the office, and circled around my feet doing the classic, doggie
I-have-to-go-outside-right-now-and-pee-pee-pee
dance.

I smiled. The puppy had just given me the perfect excuse to get out of the office and visit Wesley. Two birds with one stone, and all that. I did so love to multitask.

“Come on, Rascal,” I said, grabbing my coat. “We’re going out.”

#

I clipped Rascal on his leash—the cobalt-blue one Talon had left behind—and headed to Paradise Park. Normally, I avoided the park because of the constant noise and flashing lights. But I cut through the back side that bordered Bigtime Cemetery and let Rascal do his business on the icy grass. Once the puppy finished, I scooped him up and carried him, wanting to get to Wesley’s office building before I lost my nerve.
 

Ten minutes later, I stepped into the lobby and walked over to the security guard. “Abby Appleby. I’m here to see Mr. Weston.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the guard muttered, shooting me a hostile look. It was the same guy I’d faced down before—the one who hadn’t wanted to let me take Rascal up to Wesley’s office.

“No. But I need to see Mr. Weston and give him this.” I held up a folder that contained the final details for the party.

I could have e-mailed the files. Maybe I
should
have e-mailed them, but I wanted to see Wesley—for reasons I didn’t want to think too much about right now.

“I can take that for you,” the guard replied, holding out his hand.

I pulled the folder back. “I would prefer to personally put it on his desk.”

I never left anything with assistants because they had an annoying habit of misplacing things. I certainly wasn’t going to leave the folder with Mr. Bad Attitude. He’d chunk it in the trash can before I got out of the building.

The guard looked at me, then at Rascal. “Mr. Weston said he didn’t want to be disturbed this morning.”

That old excuse? I’d only heard it a thousand times before. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Fine,” the guard muttered. “Go on up.”

I rode the elevator up to the penthouse. The doors
pinged!
open, but the sound didn’t bother me. I was too intent on seeing Wesley to care about the migraine gathering in the base of my skull. I stepped inside the office. The waterfall gurgled and fell as usual. I admired the rock wall before turning toward the desk.

To my surprise, Wesley wasn’t there. My eyes flicked around the office, but he wasn’t relaxing on any of the other chairs or couches. I breathed in. I didn’t even detect his minty scent in the enormous room.

“Mr. Weston?” I called out. “Wesley?”

No answer.
 

Maybe he’d gone out for a power brunch or the guard had known he wasn’t in the office and lied to me. I pushed away my disappointment and strode over the bridge to his desk. I put the folder on top of the stack of papers. Unlike Fiona’s haphazard desk, Wesley’s was the very picture of organization, with everything neatly stacked and filed.
 

Rascal pulled on his leash, wanting to explore, so I let go of the long rope. I reached into my vest and pulled out a notepad, along with a pen. I scribbled down the reason for my visit, asked that Wesley call me, and stuck the note on top of the folder. I also went ahead and e-mailed the files from my phone, so he would have electronic versions as well.
 

I put my notepad, pen, and phone back in their appropriate pockets, then looked for Rascal. The puppy was sniffing the rocks along the edge of the pool under the waterfall. I walked over and crouched down beside him, running my hands through his silky, sand-colored fur.

“All right, boy. It’s time to go back to work.”

I started to pick up Rascal, but he wasn’t through sniffing. He wiggled away from me and started barking and bouncing around like he was a jackrabbit.

“Rascal!” I snapped. “Come back here!”

The puppy paid no attention to me. He scampered along the pool, running toward the rushing water. He reached the wall, headed left. And then—he disappeared.

I froze. One moment, the puppy had been by the rocks, the next he’d vanished. Had he fallen into the water?

I blinked, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me, but my eyes never did that. Not anymore. Rascal wasn’t anywhere in sight.
 

I hurried to over to the rocks, right up to the edge of the waterfall, where it formed the left wall of the office. I dropped to my knees and peered into the swirling water, hoping to see a wet head bobbing up and down. I wouldn’t care how bad he smelled as long as he was all right.

Nothing.

“Rascal? Rascal!”
 

A tinny bark sounded above the roar of the waterfall. I cocked my ear, listening—
really
listening. He barked again, and something moved off to my left. I ducked my head down and squinted. After a moment, I realized Rascal hadn’t fallen into the pool—he’d gone around it. Some sort of tunnel ran behind the waterfall, barely visible from where I was.
 

I got to my feet and approached the wall, peering through the falling water. Rascal stood in the middle of the hidden walkway and barked again, his feet bouncing off the floor and exposing his white belly.

“Get out of there! Come here! Right now!”

Rascal gave me a silly grin, then turned and loped farther down the tunnel.

I stepped past the cascading water, and the cool mist kissed my face, but the tunnel itself was dry. The three-foot-wide sliver of space ran parallel to the wall. I wondered what it was for. Maintenance?

Rascal galloped ahead of me. Maybe he really was a superdog, as Talon claimed. He could sure move quick enough. I hurried to catch the puppy.

And then—he disappeared.
Again
.

I rushed forward to the spot where he’d been. The walkway came to a dead end ahead, and Rascal hadn’t fallen into the pool. I would have heard or seen the splash. So where had he gone?

A strip of white caught my attention, and the faint outline of a door came into focus. He must have gone in there. I pushed on the door, and it swung open. I stepped through, ready to admonish the dog. Just because Rascal was supercute didn’t mean he had the right to put himself in danger. He easily could have skidded off the walkway and fallen into the water during his enthusiastic romp. This area was not a playroom—

The thought vanished from my mind.

I found myself staring at three very familiar walls—walls covered with gadgets, maps, photographs, and computer monitors. My eyes flicked to the man sitting in the center of it all—Wesley.

Chapter Twenty-Three

This was the room Talon had taken me to when he’d rescued me from Bandit. The waterfall. Talon’s secret lair, Wesley’s secret superhero lair, lay behind the waterfall in his office. I should have known.
 

Wesley stared at me. This time, no visor hid his reaction. Shock and horror flashed in his golden eyes, but it was quickly followed by what looked like relief. Relief? Why would he be relieved I’d discovered his secret?

“Well, I see you found me after all, Abby,” Wesley said, rising to his feet.

“I—um—well, you see—”

My voice trailed off under his intense gaze. Finally, I realized that I was supposed to say something, to explain why I’d wandered in here. “I came to drop off some papers for you. Rascal got onto the walkway. I tried to grab him, but he ran away. Then, I saw the door.”

“And you just had to push it open.”

 
I winced. “Guilty as charged. I didn’t want Rascal to get hurt.”

Wesley’s gaze went to Rascal, who sprawled in the middle of the floor, panting. He stared at the puppy, then back at me. He nodded.
 

“I’m glad you found me, that you know I’m really Talon. It’ll make things easier.”

I blinked. He wasn’t mad? He wasn’t going to yell, scream, and try to gas me into oblivion? He wasn’t going to shoot me up with some drug to make me forget my discovery? What kind of superhero was he?