Page 49 of Crude Heir

I set my arm on the wall by her head, effectively caging her in. “I’m waiting.”

“I wasn’t born Nicole Fuentes.” The tip of her tongue comes out to wet her lips. “But it’s the only name I’ve ever known.”

There could be a dozen reasons that could be true, but it doesn’t make sense. I need details. I need to know how one thing links to another.

“How is that possible?” I study her face, checking to see if there’s anything in her eyes that might give her away.

“Three years ago, my family—the people I knew as my parents—were killed in a car accident. After the funeral services, my grandmother sat me down and told me I wasn’t their child.”

That’s a hell of a time to get the news. It’s one loss on top of another, right when she would have been the most vulnerable.

“They came across the border illegally. And somewhere along the way, they found me.”

My mind reaches for a possible explanation. Was she abandoned? How could a young child end up alone? “Found you?”

She blows out a breath. “From everything I’ve read since I found out, I assume that’s another way to say they kidnapped me.”

Kidnapped. Hell. Is it possible? My temples are throbbing. I lean away, only now realizing I’d leaned in to begin with.

“There’s nothing else I can tell you.” She shakes her head, her expression pleading. “Not who I am, not where I’m from, not how old I am. Everything I know…belongs to Nicole.”

I’m speechless. Out of all the things she could possibly say, I never expected this. “So, how did you become Nicole?” How does someone go about creating a persona? “Did she tell you that?”

She nods. “That was actually the easiest part.” She takes a deep breath. “They bought a package with a birth certificate and social security number. It helped create their background. It’s all they needed to establish residency in the United States. I just happened to be a kid who matched the documents they were offered.”

Who the hell thinks it’s better to drag a random kid along to make things easier for them? Out of anything I could have imagined, this would never have come up.

There’s one more thing I can’t go without knowing.

“And Keith Kelly? What’s your relationship with him?” There has to be a reason she’s digging through everything, even to the point of risking her job.

She shakes her head. “He’s a nice man. I was just trying to find out what’s happening with his company.”

Which doesn’t give me the answer I want. “Whatis your relationship with him?” There are too many things about herthat could draw a man’s attention. “He didn’t just pick you at random.”

Her cheeks turn red, making my stomach drop. Do I even want to know what happened between them? As much as I may not be ready to hear this, I have to know.

“I met him the day I went to an interview for a temp job. I got turned around and I asked him if I was at the right building.”

In the back of my mind, I have a memory of him smiling down at me when I was a kid. A kinder expression than what he shared with others. Not something I would have caught at the time, but now, with hindsight, I realize he—

“We ended up in the same elevator,” she says, snapping me out of the memory. “And he tried to set me at ease when he saw I was nervous.”

“So you’re telling me it was a chance meeting?”

She nods. “I didn’t know who he was until a couple of weeks later.” She exhales. “We kept bumping into each other, leaving late.”

Yes, whatever else can be said about the man, he’s a hard worker. First in, last out mentality.

“When my assignment was over, he had…your mother interview me.”

The churning in my stomach settles. It makes sense that she’d feel indebted to a man that helped her. So it makes sense that someone would go out of their way to return the favor. I still don’t like it, but it fits.

“I was offered a permanent position, but I turned it down…for obvious reasons.” She swallows uncomfortably. “I ended up assigned to the AP department and helping out as an admin.”

The only bad part about that is that she caught Simon’s attention. Thinking about him is enough to sour my mood even more.

Annoyed, I glance around, inspecting the small, tidy apartment. It has the right items, but nothing that speaks to the woman herself. The place has about as much personality as the corporate apartment where I’m staying.

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