Page 49 of Wretched Soul
Connor glances around to check Felix Sanderson hasn’t suddenly appeared. We’re in our client’s home office, but the cabin on the outskirts of town is mostly open-concept, and there’s no telling how sound travels. Connor arrived yesterday to fix his own screw up, but when a notice arrived that the IRS wanted to inspect Felix’s records next week, I was drafted in to help.
Connor leans over the table we’re sharing. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying our little break from the office, Lily,” he whispers. “Look on the bright side. If we don’t finish rebuilding the accounts today, we could be spending the weekend together.”
“The hell we will,” I mutter. It’s bad enough that I’m giving up my Friday night. I’m not losing a Saturday too. I’m contemplating a return to Heatrush.
“Seriously, stop playing hard to get. I saw the overnight bag in your car.” He’s smirking again. “I can see you’re blushing just thinking about what we could get up to.”
I could almost laugh at how wrong he is. The overnight bag is nothing more than a last resort. I’ll work into the night if necessary, and if I can’t make it home, I’ll drive to a motel outside of town. There’s no way I’m booking into the local guesthouse where Connor’s staying.
If I’m flushed, it’s because I can’t help thinking what Shade would make of me disappearing on a business trip with my ex. Or more to the point, what he’d do to Connor if he heard the way he’s talking to me.
I haven’t seen Shade since last week’s nighttime visit, and his only contact was via the note he included with the pamper package he sent for me and Kaitlyn. Oh, and the message he included in the contractor’s work order when she installed the new locks on my front door. And yes, he did send a woman. I’d laughed when I’d checked the paperwork to find it had been arranged by someone called Mr. Nicetry. He knew I’d look. That man is just as protective of his identity as he is of me.
I tighten my ponytail and put on my game face. I rarely tie my hair back, but it matches the no-nonsense look I’m going for with my black turtleneck sweater and a dark grey trouser suit. Unfortunately, my subliminal messaging is completely lost on Connor.
Ignoring his lingering looks, I continue to manipulate spreadsheets and punch in numbers. I’m ready to send through some of the information the IRS has requested, but when I go to upload the files, I get the circle of doom.
“Have you had any problems connecting to the internet?”
“It has been slow,” he replies. His eyes light up in a way I don’t particularly like. “Hey, we should head into town. There’s free Wi-Fi at the diner, and we could get something to eat. My treat.”
I pick up my phone, searching for another solution, but the signal on my cell is weak. I have to accept that going to the diner will get the job done faster. “Fine. We can take our files and work through until it’s done,” I say. “I’m sure Felix will be glad to get us out of his hair.”
Connor gets up from the table and before I can stand, he’s behind me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and starts to massage my neck. “You’re holding yourself so tense, Lily. Fortunately, I know a way to work out some knots.”
“Get your hands the fuck off me,” I hiss. When he doesn’t, I slam my laptop shut and shove my chair backwards. “Now!”
“See what I mean about you being so tense?” he says, as if I’m the problem.
But he does back away, and I just have to hope that I don’t have to fight him off again later. It’s a small mercy that we’d arrived at Felix’s in our own cars, and I don’t have to worry about his wandering hands on the drive into town.
I’m the first to arrive at the diner, and as I settle into a booth, I watch Connor park next to my Audi. I quickly set out my laptop and folders to create a clear demarcation of my personal space. This is not a dinner date, or any kind of date.
I log into the diner’s Wi-Fi before I glance up again. Connor got out of his car, but there’s no sign of him now. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s making a call he doesn’t want me to overhear.He’s probably talking to Walter, spinning the narrative to cover his own ass as usual.
When a waitress comes by, I order coffee. Connor can look after himself. His absence has stretched beyond any reasonable excuse, and my annoyance is upgraded to barely contained fury. Minutes tick by and daylight fades. Is he going to leave me to do all the work? I swear I’m going to need all my self-control not to hit that man when he does show up.
I work my way through my files, trying not to be distracted by my colleague’s continued absence, when flickering lights catch my attention. Blue lights.
An ambulance pulls into the parking lot and two paramedics climb out. The diner sits next to a gas station in an otherwise empty lot, but the first responders aren’t heading for either. They disappear around the side of the diner.
As I stand up for a better look, I make an uncomfortable connection between Connor’s disappearance and the arrival of the emergency services.
“Do you know what’s happened?” I ask the waitress who joins me at the window.
“One of our cooks found some guy out back. He’s saying he had a fall, but apparently he looks pretty beat up,” she says. “It happens.”
I snap my laptop shut and put away the papers I’d been working on. “Could you watch my things?” I ask the waitress. “I need to check something.”
Hurrying out without waiting for a reply, I turn the corner to find Connor being lifted onto a gurney. “Oh my god! Connor!” I cry out, immediately feeling bad for practically wishing bad karma on my nemesis. “What happened?”
Connor appears too traumatized to respond, so I turn to one of the paramedics.
“Will he be OK?”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes. We’re colleagues.”
