Quiet Angel (35 page)

Piles and piles
were all over his desk: FAA reports to review, stacks of financials to approve, business correspondence to answer, employee 401(k) plans to consider, and thousands of other things. It looked like he’d been gone a year. But all of it was going to have to wait. The only thing that mattered was a brown envelope marked “confidential”—and the documents inside he was pouring over.

There were media reports on Layla and Gage, the publication date of each highlighted in yellow. There were bank statements showing various deposits, each dated a day or two before a report. There were stacks of checks and wire transfers from assorted media outlets, the amounts corresponding to the deposits on the bank statements. It was all confirmation of what his godfather suspected. He ran a hand along the cross she made for him.
I have to tell her.

Gage looked up from his desk, catching Layla spying on him from the doorway. He held out his hand for her to come to him. “You got to catch up with Poppy and Emerson?”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe you hired Poppy.”

Mary walked in and handed Layla a folder. “I added you to Mr. Montgomery’s accounts. There are credit cards and checks in here with your new name and address. And I arranged for your passport to be changed and for a new driver’s license, too.”

“Don’t I have to go to the DMV or something?”

“I handled it, honey.”

“Thank you,” Layla said.

Mary turned to leave. “Please shut the door behind you,” Gage said.

“Is something wrong?” Layla asked.

Gage came around his desk, and they sat down together on the sofa. “All the stories in the press were leaked. It wasn’t just the press digging around.”

“Really? Why would someone do that?”

“Money,” he said and took her hand. “I found out for sure yesterday who was doing it. I don’t have to tell you if you don’t want to know. The press is gone. No one cares anymore. There won’t be any more stories. The person no longer has a customer to sell to since I’m not running.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“Yes, and I’m going to see that they pay.”

“Tell me who it is.”

“You sure?”

“Tell me.”

“Your mother.”

A sharp pain shot through her heart, and she began to cry. It didn’t seem possible her mother could hurt her again—and Gage, too. “Are you sure?”

Gage handed her the envelope. “It’s all in here—phone records, bank deposits. She was probably pissed about your father’s will, your happiness. And this was payback.”

Layla looked in the envelope—all the papers inside—then her eyes shot up. “My half-brother?”

“He’s not involved,” Gage said and wrapped his arms around her. “We ruled him out months ago. There’s no recent activity on him. I’d never let him get close to you.”

“What do we do now?”

Her tears hit his hand. “I’m going to fly over there. Your mother is going to hurt for this, for your childhood, for not protecting you, for everything.”

Layla considered his words. It was tempting to think about her mother in pain. Layla fantasized many times about just that. But she learned a long time ago that holding onto anger only hurt her. It didn’t hurt the ones she was angry with. They didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let that poison destroy her new life, everything she worked so hard for.
It’s always better to forgive
. “No, Gage, let it go.”

“The hell I will! She screwed up your life for weeks! More than that, really!”

“Everything she did only made me stronger. Everything that happened led me to where I am today—led me to you.”

Gage about threw up.
Is this more hybrid Catholic-hippie shit?
“I’ll think about it, but I can’t make any promises right now.”

“No, I want you to. . . .”

The door flew open. Emerson waltzed in with a tall, muscular man with deep brown eyes. Gage and Layla hopped up from the sofa, and Emerson flashed her a little wink. “Layla, this is Mateo.”

The man stepped forward and extended a hand to Layla, his angular features softening, his lips curving up in the slightest hint of a smile. Gage greeted the man instead. “Hi, Mateo. I’m Gage Montgomery. Could you wait outside a minute?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gage shut the door. “Really, Emerson? Is this some kind of joke?”

“I just thought if Layla has to have a guard, then he should be nice to look at.”

“Get rid of him.”

“He’s the best. He comes,” Emerson said, pausing for effect, “highly recommended.”

“He’s got a hard-on for my wife.”

“Wait!” Layla cried. “Why do I need a guard?”

“You didn’t tell her, Gage?” Emerson asked.

“You barged in before I could,” Gage said and sat back down with Layla. “Angel, we’ve got no idea what your mother is capable of. I can’t imagine a mother doing what yours has done to you.”

“But all the stories stopped,” Layla said. “Don’t you think she’s given up?”

“I’d like to go to Houston and make sure of that,” he said.

“You’ll only make it worse,” Emerson said.

Layla squeezed his hand. “Gage, I’d rather you stay here with me.” If it kept him out of harm’s way, she wasn’t above playing the damsel in distress card. She saw his blue eyes soften a little and knew she was winning.

“You’ll keep the guard?” Gage asked his wife.

“I think you should, Layla,” Emerson said. “He’s great eye candy.”

Layla giggled. “You think it’s necessary?”

“I think it’s best for a little while,” Gage said. “Just a week or so. Just to be on the safe side.”

“OK,” Layla said. “Just have him be discreet. I don’t want to feel like he’s there. And I don’t want him giving any reports to you, Gage. I need to feel like I have some power.”

“I told you she’d be sensible,” Emerson said. “Don’t know what you were so worried about, baby brother.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” Layla asked, and Emerson looked at her brother. “Gage, how long have you known my mother was behind all this?”

“I just got the envelope this morning,” he said. “It was here when I got back in the office.”

Layla shook her head. “How long have you suspected?”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”

Layla got to her feet. “How long? Don’t make me ask again.”

“Can we not do this in front of my sister?” Gage asked.

“I’ll go,” Emerson said, opening up his office door. “I’ll be right outside—with Mateo.”

When the door closed, Layla started up again. “How long have you suspected my mother?”

“A couple days before we got married,” Gage said. “But I didn’t have any real proof. I didn’t want to upset you for no reason. I didn’t want to dampen our wedding or honeymoon.”

“You must think I’m so weak.”

“You know I don’t think that.”

“You must,” Layla said. “Am I destroyed? Did this news break me? Am I falling to pieces? You don’t give me enough credit.”

“Angel,” Gage said, reaching for her.

Layla stepped back. “Let me tell you something about angels you obviously don’t know. Angels aren’t little winged fairies flying around granting wishes. They are warriors, fighters, protectors. You know who they fight? Demons and the evil in the world.” She stiffened her spine. “You like to call me ‘Angel’ because you think it’s cute and sweet. But I like it because I think it makes me a bad ass.”

“I know you’re a fighter. But it was two days before the wedding when I first suspected it was her. I had no real proof.”

Layla waited a moment as clarity sunk in. “This is why you decided not to run, huh?” Gage opened his mouth, but Layla held up her hand. “You let my mother scare you off. Don’t you realize what you did? You let her win.” She shook her head and grabbed her purse. “I need some air.” She walked out of the office, and Mateo fell in line behind her.

*

Gage stayed late
to clear his desk and got home around eight. He felt the freeze as soon as he walked in. He pushed open the bedroom door, seeing the lights out and Layla on her side facing away.
Literally, the cold shoulder. The honeymoon is over.
The covers were up to her neck, and Pippa was curled up on his pillow. She never went to bed this early. She was obviously still pissed. He sighed as he got ready for bed.

He slid under the sheets and gently pushed Pippa aside. He went to hold his wife, to touch her skin, then recoiled as if burned by an iron. She’d put on pajamas, and not just any pajamas—flannel ones—when it was still 90 degrees outside. She could be pissed all she wanted, but that was taking things too far. It crossed the line.

“You know what’s the best thing about having a wife?” Gage whispered, his warm breath on her neck, sliding a hand under her shirt.

Layla swatted him away. “I’m tired.”

“No, you’re not,” Gage said.

She rolled over. “I’m not?”

“No, you’re not. You’re mad.” Gage leaned up on his elbow and stroked her cheek, waiting.

“I’m hurt,” she whispered.

“We waited so long to be together, to get married. I didn’t want your mother to steal one ounce of joy from that.”

Layla flipped all the way over to face him, their heads resting on their pillows. “But you let her steal your dream to become governor.”

“That’s not true. And it wasn’t my dream.”

“I hate that my past, my family, robbed that from you. I hate it.”

“Layla, I can promise you I don’t want to hold public office. It doesn’t have anything to do with your past, your family. It has everything to do with our future, our family.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Remember our first date a few months ago? You asked me to tell you what I wanted the next 5 years to look like. I never mentioned being governor. The only thing I could think about was our kids, a house, you waddling around pregnant.” Layla nuzzled in closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve told you about your mother sooner, but I didn’t want you to worry. It’s my job as your husband to protect you and keep you happy and safe.”

Layla wanted to scream at him for his old-fashioned notion, to stand up for feminism and equal rights. But she just couldn’t manage it, at least not right now. His heart was in the right place. “I miss our honeymoon,” she whispered.

Gage led her to the balcony and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s not quite Italy, but the stars are the same.”

After spending a
few days unpacking, Layla tried to settle into her new life in Atlanta. She loved being married but sitting around waiting for Gage to come home, luring him home for lunch and a quick roll in the sheets, exploring slivers of grass with Pippa along busy downtown streets, wasn’t a long term plan. It wasn’t exactly what she envisioned for her life. She felt like she needed a plan.

It seemed like years since she read to a child or stocked a shelf. There were no orders to fill. There were no bills to pay. And there was no laundry to do, either. Gage sent that out. She hadn’t even found a yoga or meditation class she liked. They were all indoors, the noisy city streets of Atlanta making an outdoor class impossible. She needed to figure out what she was going to do with herself.

She didn’t go to college, start a business, just to hang out at home alone. She knew she’d figure it out—maybe a part-time job, maybe some volunteer work. The possibilities were endless. And she actually looked forward to figuring it out. But until she did, she was going to try not to go stir crazy and do her best to enjoy herself. She was going to spend time with her friends, take it easy, without a press corps following her around—even if Mateo was.

*

Poppy knocked off
work a little early. She wanted Layla to see her new apartment. Layla jumped at the chance to get out and came straight over. Poppy immediately took a liking to Mateo.

“Do you mind him following you around?” Poppy asked, sizing him up from another room, staring at the muscles in his arms.

“I’m getting used to it.”

“I’d like some security from him. I know I’d feel real secure if he was bending me over a desk, either here at home or at work.”

“Gage just better be thankful I love him so much. Did you know Mateo’s company actually sends Gage a log sheet each night? I told Gage I didn’t want that, but then I walk into the bedroom last night, and Gage slams down the laptop like I caught him looking at porn.”