The Confession (11 page)

“Is this all right?” he asked. I turned my head to look at him, hearing the concern in his voice.

“It's very nice. Thanks.” I swallowed. “Where will you sleep?”

He turned toward a wicker chair in the corner, where some of his clothes were strewn over the arms. It was odd seeing things so messy—he'd never been that way before. His apartment before I'd lived there had been Spartan, at best. He gathered a couple of shirts and shoved them into a dresser drawer.

“On the couch. Don't worry about me.”

I always worry about you,
I wanted to say. I thought about the liquor bottles at his apartment. Combined with the mess here, it didn't look like he'd been doing that well. You'd never tell from looking at him, though. His suit was neat, his face showing just a hint of dark stubble. His chocolate brown hair was shoved back in that careless, sexy way. But there was a strain in his eyes, something he was trying to hide by avoiding my gaze.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He stopped what he was doing, and bowed, just slightly, as if I'd punched him in the gut. I took a step closer. His jaw flexed.

I put my hand on his, feeling the heat of his skin. Feeling the way he was trembling, as if he might combust at any moment.

“Jesus, Anna,” he whispered.

The tension coming off of him was blinding, as if I'd flung open the door and was staring straight at the sun. I gave a small gasp, feeling his pain, feeling his fear, feeling an anger so powerful it could destroy us both.

And just like that, he slammed that door shut. He backed up, his hand sliding away from mine. I was speechless.

“The washer's downstairs behind the kitchen,” he said. “I'll go get you some towels.”

He retreated outside, closing the door behind him. I stepped back into the living room, taking a look around at the mess. No, something was definitely not right here. I thought about what Mike had said about the trial, all the shit they were putting Alec through. The reporters on the news that I'd seen while I was at the hospital, talking about his
questionable past
.
A new fury rose up inside of me. I wished they would all leave him the hell alone.

I'd wandered to the couch, and glanced down at the papers that covered one cushion and the coffee table. There were calendar pages, marked with dates of appointments over the last few years. Documents from different aviation companies. Copies of forms with Alec's signatures from the apartment complex, and a restaurant, and another bar Maxim owned.

My eyes were drawn to a piece of scratch paper that said
CASA fund-raiser
in Alec's handwriting
.
It was circled, with the date just below it. I picked up the paper, chewing my bottom lip. Beneath it were other notes, things that took a moment to figure out.

My work schedule at Rave. Amy and my dad's phone numbers. The name and address of Barrow's, the bar on Himes where I'd been taken. Some of this was from after my abduction, but not all of it. There was a copy of my work schedule from July, almost six weeks ago.

The door opened, and Alec stepped inside, three towels under his arm. He took in the scene before him in stages. First surprise, then concern, then irritation.

“What is all this?” I asked, the papers still in my hands.

He moved closer and set the towels on the arm of the couch. One more step, and I could feel the energy crackling off of him. I felt my weight draw forward, so that I was standing on the balls of my feet.

He took the papers from my hand, and gathered them with the rest of the pile on the coffee table. I watched his throat as he swallowed. He was still wearing that damn blue tie, slung in a loose knot below his open collar.

“Why were you looking for me?” he asked quietly. “Why did you come to the apartment tonight?”

He was standing too close; even through his jacket I could feel the warmth of his body. My eyes focused on his perfect lips, and for a flash I could almost feel them soften against mine.

“I . . .”

His eyes searched mine for truth. I couldn't lie to him.

“I was going to tell you good-bye,” I said. “It's time for me to move on.”

U
nlike the rest of the apartment, the shower was clean, and I drained the hot water tank soaking for a good long while. Nothing in my life made sense. I couldn't reconcile my missing memories to those pictures. If an experience that insane had happened to me, you'd think I would remember
something
. I fantasized about ten different ways to torture Maxim Stein, and then became so frightened by the fact that he'd taken me,
used
me, without me even knowing, that I had to press myself into the corner of the shower stall and remind myself to breathe.

Alec didn't make any sense either. Why did he gather all that information on me? Was it simply because he'd been trying to figure out the details of my abduction? It seemed odd that he would need old work schedules. Or Amy's phone number. Or my father's. I remembered his phone call with my dad in the car. It was as if they'd spoken regularly; Alec had known the number the second it had popped up on his screen, and yet my dad had mentioned nothing about talking to Alec.

I couldn't get a read on his relationship with Janelle. It didn't feel right that they were together, but I'd seen it, and Amy had verified it. Hell, the news was reporting on it, not that that meant anything. I couldn't figure out what was going on with us either. He should have told me about the pictures. He'd known they were in his apartment and still had sex with me, and even though I understood the intensity of our attraction, that didn't sit well.

Making a move on him when I knew he'd been with someone, even if their relationship wasn't exclusive, wasn't my finest move either. Not that I was even capable of regretting it. It seemed I could regret nothing when it came to him.

As the water began to cool, I stepped out into the steam and dried off with a towel Alec had brought from downstairs. I wiped off the mirror and examined my naked body. It looked the same as it had a week ago. There was no sign I'd been manhandled, no sign I'd been hurt.

My body was still my own.

And it was feeling things it shouldn't have been.

I'd been through something traumatic. I should have been recovering. I should have been wearing ten layers of clothes and swearing off intimacy for the rest of my life.

But Alec was behind this door, and somehow, despite everything, he felt safe.

I wrapped the towel around my body and leaned my forehead against the door. He was just beyond in the kitchen; I could hear the clatter of plates in the sink and the groan of the pipes as he turned on the water. He was mad at me, even if I couldn't see him, I could feel it. That was another thing I didn't understand—how he could possibly be angry at me for wanting to leave town after everything that had happened.

I thought of the way his eyes had narrowed when I'd told him I'd come to his apartment to say good-bye. How the papers had crinkled in his grasp. Maybe it was wrong, but I was glad he didn't want me to go.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. He turned when he saw me, standing before him with only a thin green towel around my body. I became aware of the droplets of moisture on my skin, and my long, wet hair stretching down my back. I remembered that he'd always liked my hair wet.

His mouth opened, then closed. His gaze got stuck somewhere around my belly, lighting a fire right beneath my skin. He'd taken off his coat, dress shirt, and tie, and was just wearing a white undershirt, untucked from his slacks. Through the thin fabric I could make out the shape of his chest and the hard contours of muscle.

The desire was sharp and demanding, tightening in the base of my stomach and making my breasts so sensitive, I had to wrap one arm over them. But I felt my shoulders hunch, and my brows pull together, because I shouldn't have wanted him, not now, not after this day. I could still see my body draped over Maxim Stein's, and yet it did nothing to dampen the yearning I had for the man before me.

Something was seriously wrong with me.

“You . . .” He shook his head and blinked. “I'm sure you're hungry. There's not much. I can run out if you want . . .”

“I'm not hungry.”

His jaw twitched.

“You have to eat,” he said. “You're too goddamn skinny.”

I forced my chin up. Though I knew he was worried, it still felt like an insult. The space between us seemed suddenly too tight. The energy had changed, layering the tension with something darker.

“I just want some water.”

“You need more than water.”

My shoulders rose. I stepped forward. “You're right. I could always try a wholesale-sized bottle of whiskey. That seems to work out for you.”

His eyes flashed with anger before he turned away.

“Well you're out of luck. I'm all out.”

“What a shame. I've been on such a lucky streak, too.”

His hands gripped the counter. For the first time I looked around the kitchen. The counters had all been cleared, the dishes washed. The papers on the coffee table and couch were all gone now as well.

His posture sagged, and his hands ran down his stubbled jaw. The anger dissipated, leaving only defeat.

Nothing broke me down faster than Alec's vulnerability.

“I know I can't fix what happened,” he said quietly. “And I know you don't have any reason to trust me. But I'm asking you to stay just a little while. I promise I'm going to nail Max to the fucking wall for what he did to you, and I need to know you're safe until I do.”

The dedication in his words gave me a small blossom of hope.

“My schedules, and the phone numbers. That's all part of it?”

He nodded. I pictured him poring over those papers. Trying to decide what to do about the photos. Going over my every move trying to figure out what had happened to me when I went missing.

Alec Flynn was a good man.

“I want to be there when you confront him.”

He looked at me, gaze reaching straight into my soul.

“I never stopped trusting you,” I murmured.

He watched me walk past him, out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, where I closed the door quietly behind me.

*   *   *

Exhausted from the day, I'd fallen asleep quickly, but woke around two a.m. with nightmares of my cheek pressed against the soft leather seat of a car, and a sky filled with black stars. I shoved off the crisp sheets, pulling the hem of one of Alec's T-shirts down my thighs. I'd found it in one of his drawers before going to bed, and hoped he wouldn't mind.

It smelled like him. That was what had relaxed me enough to fall asleep in the first place.

I glanced at my duffle bag, sitting on the wicker chair in the corner. When I'd gotten back to my room the pictures Alec had stuffed inside at his apartment were gone. I didn't know what he'd done with them, and I didn't care. I was just glad I didn't have to look at them again.

A shuffling sound in the other room drew my attention, and I got out of bed and walked to the door, where a dim light peeked out beneath the bottom. I thought about trying to find some pants, but mine were dirty, and the shirt was long, and anyway, it wasn't like he hadn't seen me in a lot less.

It wasn't like his cheating girlfriend/fuckbuddy/
complication
could say anything about it, either.

I cracked open the door, finding Alec in the sexiest pair of worn gray sweatpants I'd ever seen and a thin, blue T-shirt. He sat on the couch, a pen between his teeth, flipping through a spiral notebook, but his gaze shot up when I stepped out of the room.

My hair was probably a wild mess after falling asleep with it wet, and I didn't have a bit of makeup on. Why did he always look so perfect when I looked so average?

He blew out a breath. “Wow.”

“Yeah?”

A small smile pulled at his lips, mirroring my own. “Am I making too much noise?”

I shook my head, and crossed my arms. Maybe it was decent enough to show off my legs from the thighs down, but the lack of bra was definitely noticeable.

He set down the notepad and stood, the smile disappearing. “Is everything all right?”

The strain from our last conversation was gone. I approached him, and sat on the opposite side of the couch, trying to stay out of the Alec Flynn brain-scrambling force field. I pulled my knees up beneath the shirt, so that only my toes stuck out.

“Can't sleep.”

He sat again. He didn't ask if I wanted to talk about it, but the way he leaned back, arm draped over the back of the couch, like he had all the time in the world, told me to go ahead.

“I've been having this dream since I was taken . . . since Maxim took me . . . where I'm lying in the back of a car.” I kept my eyes on my toes. I was in serious need of a pedicure. “It's probably nothing.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Maybe it's a memory.”

I loved him for not pushing me.

“The seat's cool and leather—my cheek is resting on it. I'm not scared when I'm lying there, not until I wake up.”

“Are you scared right now?” He didn't move any closer, but his voice was so gentle, I leaned back against the cushion and relaxed.

“No,” I said. “This time in the dream I looked up and saw black stars. Weird, right?”

He shrugged. “Any idea what it means?”

“That I've lost my ever loving mind?” I tried to smile.

“Well that's nothing new.”

I snorted, and could feel him grin at me, even though I wasn't looking.

“So you have more this time than last time. It might keep building. Give us a little more.”

“Us,” I repeated. It felt like I had just told him a deep, dark secret, and he was cradling it in the palm of his hand, taking more care of it than I ever could.

“Yeah,” he said. “Us.”

His gaze lifted to mine and held, making it hard to breathe. I wondered if he could still feel that connection between us, because his eyes lowered to my mouth, and he swallowed.

“I'm starving,” he said.

He rose, and walked to the kitchen, where he took a pan from the stove. How long had it been since I'd eaten? Yesterday I'd had lunch at the hospital. Nothing after that. Not that I had much of an appetite.

While he removed a pan from the cabinet, I glanced down at the notebook he'd been looking through. It was a directory filled with black-and-white pictures.

“What's this?” I asked.

“Some stuff for the prosecutor,” he answered, opening the refrigerator. “Max sent me to bribe one of the dealmakers in that fuel company. I never knew the name. I'm hoping her face looks familiar. It's been a while. Six years, maybe.”

I glanced over the pictures of the smiling men and women, all in suits, all sitting in the exact same position for the company directory. How many of these people had been affected by Maxim Stein's corruption?

“How did you know who to meet?” I asked.

He gave a dry chuckle. “Jessica Rowe set up the appointment. I thought I was paying off one of Max's girlfriends so she wouldn't tell his wife. I didn't realize it was something else until I got there.”

I thought of Maxim Stein's secretary, the smooth, cool woman who ran his house, while Alec started mixing something in a bowl.

“Still no word from her?”

Alec scowled. “Nothing.”

“Surely someone knows where she went.” Even if she was dead, it seemed impossible that no one had found her. “Doesn't she have family? Anyone?”

“Not that she talked about,” he said. “Max mentioned she had a kid once, years ago, but there's nothing on paper.”

How could a person have no connections? Even I had connections, and I had a pretty convoluted childhood.

“Maybe she had a getaway plan in case things went south,” I said. “A hidden shack in the woods or something.” Yeah right, I couldn't picture a woman who only wore designer brands strutting through the mud in her five-inch heels.

“More like a villa on the French Riviera,” said Alec. “She made three times my salary. Plus bonuses. Always in cash.”

My mouth dropped open. “You're kidding. What's a secretary doing making six figures?” Or maybe
who was she doing
was the better question.

“Keeping her mouth shut,” Alec surmised. “Jessica worked for him a long time. More than two decades. If she testified against Max, this whole thing would be over.”

I couldn't imagine all the things Jessica Rowe had seen in her time with Force. Information like that made you a liability, and with a man like Maxim Stein backed into a corner, there was no telling what he might do.

“Do you think she's still out there?” I asked.

“I've got a guy looking into it,” Alec said grimly. “The FBI's reined in their search to focus on the trial.”

That seemed like a pretty stupid idea, considering Jessica's testimony could probably give the prosecution a slam dunk.

“A
guy
,” I repeated. “We've got a guy, while Maxim's renting out his private jet to fund his defense. That seems more than a little unfair.”

Alec's brow rose.

“Mike told me,” I explained.

“You should write down a list of things you need,” Alec said, changing the subject. “Any food you want, or clothes. Pants, maybe.”

I glanced over at him, just in time to see him looking away from my legs, now exposed from beneath my shirt. A wave of self-consciousness had me pulling the hem down over my thighs.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I should've—”

“I don't mind.” He hesitated. “I don't mind a little too much.”

I smirked down at my bare thighs and stood. This time when he looked, his gaze stopped at my breasts. I felt the world slow, just as my heartbeat climbed.

I wanted him to look at me. When Alec stared at me like this, I felt powerful. Beautiful. Not like I'd been used as a prop in some fucked-up photo shoot.