Resisting the Boss: Office Suspense Romance (Dirty Hot Resistance Series Book 4) Page 12

  “I’m not chicken,” I growl. When she doesn’t cease, I grumble, “Stop it!”

  “Sounds like you’re scared. Just one song?” She starts wheedling.

  Knowing there is no chance she will shut up without having her way, I reluctantly give in.

  It’s a nineties song that she’s singing along to and I recall the lyrics as my mother used to have it playing on her cassette player in our house. But I awkwardly stumble through it, my voice not at all suited to the timbre bass required for the song, and after a few lines, I fade into silence, preferring to listen to Halley’s voice, which is surprisingly in tune.

  “Why’d you stop?” she asks, disappointed.

  My lips curve, slightly. “I like to hear you sing.”

  “Really?” She snickers. “Although, considering you haven’t said ‘shut up, Halley’ in the last hour, maybe you really do.”

  “I don’t say that a lot—”

  “You do!” She laughs. “It’s like your mantra. The other day I wasn’t even saying anything and the room was silent then all of a sudden, you blurted out, ‘shut up, Halley’.” She’s laughing, loudly.

  I feel my ears burning. “My bad.”

  “It’s okay,” she tries to reassure me between her chuckles. “I think it’s funny because I keep on talking and you just give up.”

  I snort, amused.

  We reach the city just before lunch and Halley’s growling stomach has me take a detour to the first restaurant I see.

  We’re both a bit hungry, and after lunch, we find ourselves being greeted by Dominic Hale, who is a balding man with a face resembling a bull dog. He’s a courteous individual, and as we sit down, he shoots me a curious look but doesn’t comment on my presence.

  The key he provides Halley is in an envelope. “I know you wanted your uncle to handle this but I think it’s a good decision for you to come here yourself. Your mother entrusted me with a few things that were only to be given to you, not your legal guardian. I would have felt uncomfortable handing them to Raymond even if we are old friends.”

  Halley opens the envelope and studies the rusty-looking key, a strange look in her eyes. “My mom gave this to you?”

  Mr. Hale nods.

  “When?”

  “Four months before she disappeared.”

  Halley’s fingers tighten on the small key.

  I can tell what she’s thinking, the look of devastation on her face. Her mother had been planning it for a while.

  “I don’t get it,” she mutters as we walk to the bank. “Mom didn’t have any family. It was just her and me. Who was she running from?”

  The bank manager is helpful and he seemingly recognizes Halley, greeting her warmly.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised that she knows most of the people we’ve run into.

  The bank manager guides us to the secure room and leaves us be.

  I can sense Halley’s nerves but I don’t say anything once again, knowing she needs to do this by herself.

  The box is a small unassuming thing, and when she takes it out, Halley stares at it for a few minutes before shooting me a look as if to reassure herself that I’m still here. I meet her gaze steadily, and then she opens it.

  With shaking hands, she takes out a letter and reads through it. It looks very short and she hands it to me after she’s done, her eyes confused.

  ‘Hal-bear,

  I hope that you don’t have to receive this. I really do.

  But if you have, then that means I’m not there by your side.

  I must have tried to take you and run. And I’ve probably failed.

  If you’ve led a normal life so far, then stop asking questions or looking for me.

  That will keep you alive.

  Sell the house as quietly as you can and move someone far away from Chesapeake City. I’ve left you a significant amount of money in the house. The same place where you used to hide as a child. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and just run. Don’t trust anyone.

  You. Are. Not. Safe.

  Love and kisses and hugs,

  Mama’

  Halley stares at the table, blankly.

  I fold the letter, neatly, trying to process the words. They don’t sound like they’re coming from a deranged woman. Halley’s mother was clearly in trouble and she believed Halley to be in danger as well. But a danger that still existed all this time?

  It doesn’t make sense.

  “I want to show this letter to Detective Egerton. He was the one in charge of Mom’s case. Maybe this will help find her.”

  “Halley,” I begin, wary of her calm tone.

  How do I tell her not to have too much hope?

  Her usually smiling face is blank. “I have to try.”

  So, I take a deep breath and grasp her hand, making her look up, and I give her a wry smile. “All right then. Let’s go see your detective.”

  As we put the box back, a nagging feeling in the back of my mind makes me uncomfortable, and Felix’s question from the day of the interview lingers in my mind.

  ‘Have you ever met your father?’

  10

  Halley

  Detective Egerton hasn’t changed all that much, unless you count his beer belly and slightly greying hair. He still has a serious countenance and that clumsy nature of his. He greets me, warmly, and offers me a chocolate glazed donut, which I refuse.

  “I wasn’t expecting to receive your phone call,” he tells me once he offers me and Jace a seat at his desk. “I’ve looked into the case files, Halley, but I’ll be honest with you. The trail on your mother went cold a month later. The cell tower that last picked up her signal was somewhere in Seattle and that was two months after you were found. We had no reason to believe this was a kidnapping, so our chief told us to consider the case closed.”

  I lean forward in my seat. “But what about the car? Nobody ever found it and suddenly—?”

  The detective’s eyes are kind. “Halley, it could have been nothing more than a coincidence.”

  When I open my mouth to protest, he adds, “I did reach out to a Detective Felix who is working on the hit-and-run and he said he’d send over what he has in exchange for me providing information on your mother’s cold case.”

  That’s something at least.

  Jace grasps my right hand and I’m grateful for the support.

  “By the way.” Detective Egerton studies me with a strange look in his eyes, “Did you ever recover your memory?”

  I clench my jaw. “No.”

  He sighs. “I’m not surprised.”

  “What do you mean?” Jace’s voice is sharp, making the detective shake his head. “Never mind.”

  “Do you think I could see the case files?” I ask him, hopefully.

  Maybe I’ll see something, which helps.

  I receive a rueful smile. “Afraid not, kid. Not allowed.”

  Jace bristles next to me and the way he is always so quick to leap to my defense is something that endears me to him, but I tighten my grip on his hand in warning and nod to the detective. “I understand.”

  Seeing the disappointment on my face, Detective Egerton looks apologetic. “Rules are rules, Halley. Believe me, if it were up to me, I’d reopen the case just to try and provide you with an answer. If it helps, I spent months afterwards, working on this case in my free time. I knew your mother and I know how much she loved you. Even if everyone believes she ran away, I still believe it wasn’t as simple as that.”

  My heart warms towards the older man and my tone is soft as I say, “Thank you for that.” I glance at Jace, before saying, “I think we’ll be going now. I have to show Jace around town before we leave tomorrow.”

  Jace shoots me a confused look.

  I pretend not to see it.

  As we walk out, he says, “I thought we were leaving in the afternoon.”

  I smile. “Change of plans.” I don’t tell him why I’ve decided to extend our visit. I have a feeling that Jace might not be
very keen on hacking into police records. He doesn’t seem the type to be on board with committing a federal offense.

  So, I keep my mouth sealed and glance at his car. “Let’s swing by my house. There was something in my mom’s letter I want to check.”

  To my relief, he doesn’t ask many questions and simply opens the car door for me.

  Unused to such gestures, I stare at the door and then him.

  He smirks at me. “You’re supposed to get in.”

  I throw myself into the seat, embarrassed, and frown as I watch him cross and come to his side. He’s become awfully arrogant.

  Well, he was always arrogant but now, it’s like he’s grown more self-assured.

  I don’t deny that I always thought he was attractive but slowly and steadily, he’s crept under my skin and now he refuses to leave. If it wasn’t bad enough that I keep thinking about him all the time, now he’s decided to charm my socks off and he’s annoyingly good at it.

  When he kisses me, my toes curl and my body heats up like it’s on fire. Then I want nothing more than to rip off my clothes and put his hands on my body to cool the flames. Of course, I know all about sex and the mechanics of it; I’ve read romance novels, even a few eroticas. But nothing prepared me for the way my body tingles when he touches me and my nipples harden, painfully so.

  I always thought Jace found me annoying and loud, so I delighted in tormenting him as payback. But who knew he would go and decide to pursue me instead? It’s flattering in a way and also frightening. It’s like I’m wading into unknown territory and I don’t know how to swim there.

  I never thought that I would end up in a relationship with my supervisor and yet, here I am. The thought gnaws at me till I look up.

  Jace is staring at me, a brow raised. “Well? I don’t know the direction to your house.”

  “Oh…” It surprises me that I don’t know it as well. Although, it’s not completely a shocker. I haven’t been to the small house where I lived with my mother since she disappeared.

  Putting the address in the car navigation system, I stare outside the window, silently. There’s a certain gloominess surrounding me, a feeling of dread. I can’t help but think of the letter Mom had left for me.

  Hal-bear.

  When I read that, it had felt like her voice was whispering in my ear. I thought I’d forgotten what she sounded like and yet, that sweet, tinkling voice—it was as if she had never left my side.

  In that moment, I truly wished from the bottom of my heart that she were alive somewhere, even as Detective Egerton’s words slowly started to crush the fragile hope in me.

  Mom had loved me. She wouldn’t have left me.

  “You used to live in a pretty secluded area,” Jace murmurs.

  I drag myself back to the present and look around.

  We’re on a narrow strip of road, dense trees on both sides. With the heavy clouds rolling in, the road looks dark and forbidding, and so awfully familiar.

  “Mom didn’t have much money, and when she was pregnant with me, she found the house at a dirt-cheap price. The man living there claimed it was haunted and Mom loved anything ghost related, so she didn’t mind.” I sigh. “It is pretty isolated, though. With only one road, leading in and out.”

  The deeper we go in, the more uncomfortable I feel almost as if my instincts are warning me to turn back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head, slowly. “Nothing. I guess I just never realized how scary this road used to be.”

  Jace shoots me a look before taking my limp hand in his and squeezing it. “You brought muscle. What are you panicking about?”

  “I’m not panicking,” I grumble but my frame relaxes slightly. His presence makes me feel safe, which has been the case ever since I met him.

  The house is down a side lane at the end of the road and one look at it both surprises me and makes me want to turn back. I was expecting a crumbling house, fallen in disarray due to neglect. But the house is in pristine condition, the small garden outside, well maintained.

  It almost seems as if—

  “Is somebody living here?” Jace echoes my thoughts.

  Now, I feel unsure. “They shouldn’t be. As far as I know, Uncle Raymond said that he won’t sell the house till I wanted to.” I hold up the rusty metal in my hands. “And I have the keys.”

  Jace tucks his hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face. “Maybe it’s the ghost.”

  “Ha- ha,” I say, dryly, walking over to the front door and putting in the key.

  The door has been oiled as is evident when it doesn’t so much as let out a squeak when I open it. However, for the moment, I let that go, my eyes drinking in the covered furniture that hasn’t been moved from its place.

  The large dining room set we got from a flea market that Mom called a steal is still here. The vase I made for her with macaroni and glitter is still on top of the television, which is uncovered. Each and every piece of furniture in this house has a history and it involved both me and Mom.

  My knees shake as I step inside and my eyes fill with tears I haven’t shed since so long.

  Mom. Where are you? Come back!

  I feel the trails of wetness slide down my cheeks, my heart constricting painfully in my chest as memories rear their head, reminding me of the love I’d experienced in this house, the kind of love I will never be privy to again. A choked sob escapes me and I feel a pair of strong arms encircle me from behind and Jace’s lips press against my forehead. He doesn’t say anything, just holds me, and I absorb his quiet strength even as the tears spill out.

  It takes me a few minutes to regain control of myself and I feel the dull ache in my heart. Closing my eyes, the feel of Jace’s hard body pressed against my back, I whisper in my heart to the memories of my mother that still linger in this house, ‘I’m home.’

  It takes courage to explore the kitchen, where I can still remember the scent of blueberry pancakes that filled the house on Sunday mornings.

  The room I’m looking for is upstairs, and I pause on the steps before looking down at Jace, who studies me with clear eyes, waiting for me to say something.

  A rush of something warm fills me at how he’s been holding me up through everything, never asking for anything in return. In that moment, I know there is a good chance that I might be falling in love with this man.

  What’s more surprising is how the idea doesn’t scare me as it might have.

  “Can you wait here?”

  He nods.

  Relieved, I make my way up the steps.

  There are three rooms upstairs: my mother’s bedroom, my bedroom, and the small room she had converted into a study.

  The study is the closest to the stairs while my room is at the very end of the small hallway.

  I open the pink door that I know Mom painted at my request, and as soon as the door opens, I sneeze at the amount of dust in there.

  Covering my nose, I study everything, dismay inside me at the moth-eaten blankets and stuffed animals. Why is this the only room in the house that is untouched? Everything else has been so carefully protected.

  I close the door and lean against it, bewildered.

  There’s not so much as a layer of dust downstairs. It’s almost as if someone comes every week to clean the place. So, why would they leave my room like this?

  Confusion permeating me, I unsteadily make my way to my mother’s room and let out a sigh of relief when I see her room is fine. However, what’s surprising is that it gives the illusion of still being used.

  The bed is made. The bed lamps work. Nothing is covered.

  I touch the bedsheets and blink.

  Why do they feel like they’ve been recently changed?

  Even the bathroom plumbing seems fine.

  I close the door behind me and lean against it, in thought.

  Something is very strange about this house. One room looks like it’s been lived in. One room looks like nobody has tended to it. The rest of the hous
e is regularly cleaned. The gardens are in full bloom.

  I make my way to the study and my hand hesitates on the doorknob, not knowing what to expect.

  It’s good that I gave myself a minute to mentally prepare myself because when I open the door, the sight makes me let out a startled cry that has Jace calling out my name. I try to say something in response but the words are stuck in my throat.

  I hear his footsteps bouncing upstairs till he comes to stand behind me.

  Jace takes a sharp intake of breath, hissing, “What happened here?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble in shock.

  The whole room has been torn apart. It’s almost as if someone went on a rampage in here.

  Papers are strewn everywhere. The desk is lying on its side, the chair in a corner has one of the legs broken. It’s clearly been tossed against the glass cupboard because there is shattered glass surrounding it. Drawers are on the ground, pulled out with their contents scattered along the floor.

  “Someone was looking for something,” Jace says, quietly as he reaches down to pick up a few papers. And then he stills. “Your mother was an information broker?”

  “What?” I lean over to look at what he’s studying. “She was a wild nature photographer.”

  However, the paper he’s holding begs to differ. It’s a list of companies with names next to them and scribbling. “What is this?”

  Jace looks troubled. “Highly classified information. These are some of the top firms or at least they used to be a few years ago. The names highlighted are people who were involved in heavy scandals within the firms.”

  I bite my lower lip. “Maybe she was just following their careers as a hobby.”

  Jace purses his lips. “This paper is years old and the scandals that broke out were after this. Look.” He points towards the scribbling besides each name and the date stamp on the papers. “The date is more than a decade old and the scandals that broke out happened a few years later.”

  I feel uncomfortable. “So, what does that mean?”

  Jace puts the paper back on the floor. “It means that your mother was a very dangerous person. She might have had some information people wanted that made her go on the run, initially.”