“Thanks for stopping by.” I held the door open and gestured for an assistant to accompany him to the lobby.
“One more thing, Jett.” He turned to face me, his face an ugly mask of pretense. “Please stop by. You’ll enjoy it.”
I closed the door before I smashed his face in. For the hundredth time a surge of anger pulsed through me as to why my father had brought this mess upon us. I shouldn’t have refused to talk to him before he died. If I had listened to what he had to say, maybe I’d know what was going on and figure a way out.
Taking a deep breath, I sat in my chair and retrieved the spreadsheet files. I had too much on my plate, and I couldn’t afford another distraction. The company and my relationship with Brooke came first. I’d deal with the club later.
Brooke was late and a workaholic. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had forgotten about our date. My phone cradled between my shoulder and my ear, I waited for her to pick up her cell phone. The line went straight to voicemail—like it had for the last few hours. I should’ve checked on her after her conference, but shareholder calls kept trickling in and I had no time. Besides, I figured she’d be busy and we’d talk over dinner anyway.
“Fuck.” I slammed my phone on my desk and turned to look out the window. Clearly she was pissed, and I had no idea why. I’d probably gone too far by telling her she couldn’t break up with me. Brooke didn’t like to be told what she could or couldn’t do. But damn it! The woman had issues.
“Can I get you anything before I head home?” Emma asked from the doorway. I turned, realizing I hadn’t even heard her walk in. She was dressed in a fitted trench coat and was holding a briefcase in one hand. A handbag dangled from the other arm. I wondered how much they had cost her. My father hadn’t been known for his generosity with his mistresses. Maybe he had been more smitten with this one than the rest, even though they all sure looked the same, albeit they were getting younger with each new conquest.
“No. You can go,” I said. “On second thought, have you seen Brooke?”
“She left during her meeting. I haven’t seen her since.”
I frowned. “Which meeting?”
“The one that started at eleven a.m. She didn’t return for the afternoon acquisitions talks. Your brother jumped in.” She smiled. “Want me to call him? He might still be around.”
“I’ll do it,” I said to get her to leave. Even if I called Nate, he probably wouldn’t know more than I did.
Emma’s gaze lingered on me as if she wanted to say something else, and then she settled on, “Have a good weekend.”
I mumbled a “yeah, have a good one, too” and turned my attention back to my cell phone. After she closed the door behind her, I sank in my chair, my fingers tapping on the huge desk in annoyance as I recalled my conversation with Brooke. I was sure I’d heard her correctly when she agreed to talk over dinner. Why would she do that and then leave without telling me? I always thought of her as responsible, which made me assume whatever issues she had wouldn’t encourage her to run from me. It wasn’t like her. Or maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did.
At 7:30 p.m. and countless calls later, I realized she wasn’t going to pick up, and I dialed Sylvie’s number. The line rang a few times before she replied.
“Where’s Brooke?” I asked by means of introduction. The television was blasting in the background. A brief pause ensued, during which she lowered the volume.
“Jett?” She sounded surprised, probably not expecting to hear from me. “I saw her yesterday.” She hesitated. “Is everything okay between you guys?”
Sylvie probably knew we weren’t okay, but I wasn’t ready to go into that.
“We’re good. She told me you met,” I said. “Apparently she left work early, and I thought she might be with you. We were supposed to meet for an early dinner. I got us a table at Le Bernardin.”
“Wow. That place is booked months in advance. Wish I could come along.” Sylvie let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad things worked out. I was worried she might be too scared to tell you.”
Tell me what? I frowned, realizing I was missing a part of the picture. Brooke hadn’t been particularly talkative the night before. In fact, I had never seen her so quiet. The following morning she had been even more cryptic.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
“About what?” I asked cautiously.
“About how I found the book with the disk tucked inside my handbag,” she said. I froze. “I swear it was an accident, but I’m taking the blame even though Brooke’s adamant she put them inside my bag. Don’t listen to her, though.” She laughed.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I rubbed my temples as I tried to make sense of her drivel. “What book?”
The line remained silent for a moment.
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Sylvie whispered eventually. “Oh, shit.” The line went dead. Without a second thought, I redialed her number because no one hung up on me. This time Sylvie picked up on the first ring.
“Sorry, Jett. I got disconnected. Bad signal.” She laughed. What was it with people and laughing when they were lying? “So, Brooke’s not there?”
Ignoring her question, I decided not to beat around the bush. “Are we talking about the same book and disk that were stolen in Bellagio?”
“Yep. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on the way you see it. They were not stolen, just—” she paused “—misplaced.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I sorted through my thoughts.
“Where are they now, Sylvie?”
“With Brooke, of course,” she said, and then she started to chat away. Her words flew so fast it felt like a sledgehammer was pounding inside my head. “Honestly, I thought she had told you already. She wanted to do it last night because she knew you’d be angry and she wanted to get it off her chest.”
“Whoa, slow down.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “First, why did Brooke assume I’d be angry? That’s crazy.”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you could blame her for your father’s death?” She made the question sound like a statement.
“Bullshit.” I was so angry I felt like I could hit a wall. “I’d never blame her for anything.”
“Brooke told me how guilty you feel about your father’s death. She thinks that since the book was never stolen, she might have caused his death.”
“What the fuck?” For someone so clever, Brooke’s reasoning sucked. “That’s the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever heard. She knows Robert and I never had a close relationship. I stopped grieving about my father a week ago.” Right after I found out about the missing fifty million dollars.
“Right. The way you say it makes it all sound really stupid. Brooke was convinced you blamed yourself.”
“I do.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “But for different reasons than you think.” I stood and began pacing the room up and down, my anger coursing through me. “Look, I’m worried about the company. I’ve kept us from drowning for years, but my father’s legacy is a huge financial hole that could swallow half New York City. The books don’t make sense, and I can’t tell anyone about it without risking the shares taking a dive. I know you have a business degree, so you can imagine what that would mean.” My glance fell on the clock on the wall. “It doesn’t matter now. I need to talk to Brooke. Do you have an idea where she might be? Coffee shops she frequents? I’m not comfortable with her being alone. Not when she has that damn book and she’s in a conflicted state of mind thinking I’m the enemy.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Yeah.” I cringed inwardly, not stating the obvious. “It’s switched off. I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t.”
“Switched off as in ‘you can’t reach her because she’s blocking your calls’ or switched off as in ‘switched off’?” she asked.
“Seriously?”
“Sorry.” Sylvie continued in her annoying “sorry for even asking” voice. “I just can’t believe she would switch off her cell. She never does. Maybe the battery’s dead or she left it somewhere. Did you guys have a fight?”
“Sort of.” I breathed out. “But, like I said, the only thing that matters is finding her.”
“I know a couple of places she could be. Are you at work?”
Finally.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said. “By the way, Jett, I’m really sorry about your father. Not just because he’s dead, but also…you know…” She trailed off.
“Thanks.”
I hung up and looked out the window at the last rays of the setting sun coloring the sky in dark copper. I didn’t like the fact that Brooke hadn’t told me about the book. I could deal with the fact that she had tried to break up with me because I could see her possible motivations. Maybe she thought she was protecting me; maybe even protecting herself from whatever she thought I’d say to her. I could deal with that, but I couldn’t deal with the fact that she kept secrets from me that might risk her life.
I peered at my cell phone for the hundredth time. The whole story sounded too far-fetched. My gut feeling told me I was missing something. Even though Brooke didn’t trust me, she had promised she’d stay, so what made her change her mind?
Speed-dialing the one person I knew would never fail me, I pressed the cell to my ear and whispered, “Kenny, I need you to track down Brooke’s phone right now. I need to know where she is and who’s with her.”
“Stalking her much?” Kenny laughed. “You got it.”
Chapter 16
Brooke
SOMEONE SLAPPING ME was the first sensation I had upon waking up. The second was the overpowering smell of decay and excrement. Bile rose in my throat and my stomach turned, urging me to vomit. I bit my tongue hard to fight it and tried to pry my eyes open, but everything around me remained dark. At some point a chill must have crept into my limbs because my legs and arms felt numb, and I couldn’t stop shivering. I was so cold, it felt as if I had been shivering for a long time in the darkness where I had resided.
Another slap—this time it was so hard I knew it was across my face. A pang of anger flickered to life inside me, giving me enough strength to stir from my uncomfortable position. The left side of my face tingled and burned, as if someone had used a whip on me. I pried my eyes open groggily, and a strangled gasp escaped my throat. The cold sensation I had assumed was inside me actually came from the cement floor underneath me, penetrating my business suit. Through the hazy curtain before my eyes, the picture before me didn’t make much sense. The whole room seemed cloudy and filled with light mist that was spinning so fast it took my eyes several seconds to adjust, but I could smell the putrid, sickeningly sweet air.
