Page 5 of Unleash You

He skimmed through it and then tossed it in the trash. Later that day, I fished the paper out of the wastebasket and decided to offer some survival tips. In the past three years since then, the pages hadn’t lost their original creases, though the smudges of ink had faded some. For whatever stupid reason, I’d kept the letter and all the others that came after.

I met her gaze. I had every intention of telling her the truth—that I wrote to her more than once pretending to be her brother. At the time, I told myself it was because I felt sorry for her. Fuck. She was going to hate me. But one problem at a time.

“I’d like to speak to someone at the corps. I think if they hear from a family member, they’ll be more amiable to making a real effort to find Charlie.”

“Anabelle.” I swallowed. I hadn’t meant for her name to sound like a plea. “They’re doing everything they can. You have to trust me.”

“I want to see for myself. There’s always one more thing that can be done.”

The fire in her eyes hypnotized me. I blinked fast to focus on her words rather than her lips.

“When did he disappear? Why did no one tell me? Was that your call as my executor?”

I put up my hand to get her to stop the string of questions. I didn’t want to lie to her. “Five months ago. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I made that decision as your friend.” And as Charlie’s only emergency contact.

“You’re kidding. What my friend? It’s been eight damn years.” She pinned me with a stare. “You know what? Don’t answer that. You’re just like everyone else. Thinking I’m too dumb or too fragile to do much. On a normal day, I wouldn’t care, but we’re talking about my brother’s life here. The only family I have left.”

I winced. “I don’t think you’re any of those things.”

“You should’ve called me the minute you realized Charlie was gone.” She glanced around my office, her cheeks bright red.

This side of Anabelle I remembered well. It came out every time she didn’t get her way. Charlie rarely said no to her, except for the day that really mattered to her when he made the decision to send her away to an all-girls school. Even Mom had agreed that had been the best decision for both of them. They needed the separation. Anabelle more than Charlie.

“I’m sorry. I can see that was a mistake on my part. I promise as soon as I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“You do that.” She shook her head, then turned to leave.

“You’re not going to let this one go, are you?”

“Of course I’m not. Like I said, there’s always something else that can be done. I’m getting my brother back.”

Shit. Keeping Anabelle safe was going to be more complicated than I thought. I’d promised Charlie I’d take care of his family fortune. Even if he hadn’t mentioned Anabelle, I considered her part of my mandate. She couldn’t go anywhere near Charlie’s current situation in Venezuela. It wasn’t safe.

“Please. Give me a few more weeks.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three.” I leaned forward on my desk. “I’m still in charge here, Anabelle.”

“Correction.” She put up her finger. “You’re in charge of my money. You’re not in charge of me or anything that happens in my life. If I want to get on a plane and fly to Maracaibo, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Plane tickets cost money.”

She rubbed the nape of her neck, blowing out air. A strand of blond hair fell down to cover half her face just as she closed her eyes. My mind raced back to the gutter. Before I could stop it, the question flashed in my head. Was this how she reacted to pleasure too?

“Cute. You’re gonna cut me off to get me to stay put. You’re not the only one with money. I’m sure Lilly would be more than happy to fund my expedition.”

Yeah, Mom would be. Anabelle was like the daughter Mom never had. Another reason why I couldn’t let my mind wander anymore, why I couldn’t look at Anabelle the way I wanted to.

“Two weeks. That’s all I ask. Please don’t get Mom involved.” I would have to explain to her why Charlie didn’t come home. And why our lives were now in danger because of it.

“It’s a long time to wait. A lot can happen in fourteen days.”

She was right, but I couldn’t tell her that the worst had probably already happened. “I know. But that’s all we have.”

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