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I know you have a cell phone in there. Don t even think about trying to call anyone, he
continued, reading my thoughts. In fact, hand it over.
I wasn t going to call anyone, I muttered. I opened the zipper just enough to squeeze
my hand through and rummage for the phone. When I found it, I passed it on to him, making
sure he didn t glimpse the side compartment where I had hidden the book and disk.
He motioned for me to sit down opposite from him. Can I offer you a drink, Brooke?
Without waiting for my answer, he poured whisky into two glasses and handed me one. I sat
down in the leather seat and took the glass from his outstretched hand but didn t drink. I
have to apologize for the way my two guards treated you. It s not standard procedure with our
employees.
I thought you were I began.
Dead? he finished for me. That s what everybody s thinking. It s what I want them to
believe.
He pointed at my drink invitingly. I watched the golden liquid like it was poison because
I didn t trust him. People who want a friendly chat don t abduct you. They usually invite you
over for coffee instead of making you think you might be about to be smuggled to Mexico.
Alarm bells began to ring in the back of my head, and my throat felt parched.
I don t understand. Why would you want your sons to believe you were dead? I
whispered. Why would anyone put their children through so much pain?
Drink. It s safe.
I didn t follow his command. My fingers clutched at the glass as I watched him for a few
seconds, waiting for his explanation. It never came.
Robert Mayfield raised his eyebrows and gestured at the glass again. He wanted me to
drink up. I figured it was some sordid power game, and if I wanted to survive and escape, I had
to play along. Judging from the expression on his face, he knew it just as well as I did. Maybe if
he thought I was being cooperative, he might consider letting me go. I lifted the glass to my
lips and took a sip, then let the whiskey burn its way down my throat.
Pleased with my action, he took a sip and leaned back with a smile, swirling the golden
liquid in his glass.
To answer your question, it s complicated, he said at last. I m doing them a favor.
I hoped he d elaborate. When he didn t reply, I realized that was all I d get out of him. As
much as I wanted to probe, a more important question lingered in my mind.
What do you want from me?
So many questions, Brooke. He shook his head slowly, as if he had to educate an
ignorant child. Jett didn t exaggerate when he said we should hire you because you were
feisty. He refilled his glass and leaned back again, his green eyes assessing me. Even though
they were the same shade as Jett s, I didn t see any warmth in them.
Are you going to hurt me? Is that what you want? I asked quietly.
His smile disappeared. I couldn t suppress a light tremble as a cold shudder ran down
my spine. Whatever he had to say, I was sure I wouldn t like it.
Quite the opposite. I have a proposition for you. Let s call it a chance to start over. A
new life, Brooke.
His fingers moved inside his pocket to pull out a check he slid over toward me. Seeing all
the zeroes, I almost toppled off my seat.
Holy hell!
Two million!
Move to Portland, Oregon, and the money shall be yours.
Why? I narrowed my eyes. No one gifted so much money unless they received
something in return. Robert Mayfield wanted something. Guys like him always did.
I want the book. You still have it, don t you?
Deep inside of me, I d seen it coming.
Of course he wanted the book. The fact that it had laid buried in a basement showed its
true value. I pressed the bag to my chest.
It depends, I answered. What else do you want?
I want you to stay out of my son s life. His voice was cold, just like his icy stare that
never shifted from me as he spoke.
I blinked several times, unable to grasp the meaning of his words.
You My voice failed me.
You understood right, Brooke, Robert Mayfield said calmly. Tomorrow you ll leave
New York and Jett. You ll disappear just like me. You won t get in touch with my son, nor with
your family or friends. Everybody you ever knew will believe you disappeared without a
trace. His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned so close I could smell the alcohol on his
breath. Don t even think about running or not accepting my offer. I ll make sure no one will
ever find you. My people will watch you to see if you follow the rules.
No. I don t want the money. I shook my head vehemently. And I m not going anywhere.
You can t stop me from seeing Jett or my family. People mean more to me than financial gain.
The thought of losing Jett, my family, my old life, scared and angered me. You can have the
book, but I m not leaving my old life behind. I m declining your offer. My legs were shaking so
badly I feared they might buckle beneath me, but my voice was surprisingly composed.
You will want it. His voice was so forceful I flinched. You don t understand, Brooke. If
your family, friends, or Jett mean anything to you, anything at all, you d better do what I say, or
I ll make them go away. Just like that. He snapped his fingers. His lips curled into a smile, but
his eyes betrayed his real emotions. You have no choice. If you want them alive and safe,
you ll bring me the book and leave your life behind without telling anyone.
I interlaced my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking.
You wouldn t. For some reason I felt the urge to appeal to the human part of him
because, in my stupidity, I thought there had to be one.
Leave me no choice, and I will, he said, misinterpreting my gesture, and retrieved a
jewelry box the size of his palm from a compartment, then opened it and handed it to me. I
stared at the piece of jewelry in silence. Of course it could be anyone s but I knew it was
Sylvie s missing tennis bracelet, and the thought scared the crap out of me.
She was asleep. Didn t even notice the two men breaking in and unclasping it from her
wrist. I know everything about her. The places she visits, the people she meets. Let s say, one
Thursday evening she visits Vixen s into the early morning hours, the way she always does,
but this time she s not making it home, and no one will ever know what happened to her.
The threat hung heavy in the air. I swallowed hard to get rid of the bile rising in my
throat. My head felt heavy and tired, and my lungs burned, as though I had been underwater
for too long and couldn t come up for air.
If I do what you say, what guarantee do I have that you ll keep your word and not harm
them? I raised my brows. Or me.
None. My word should suffice. His eyes were probing mine, challenging me, observing.
They reminded me of a hawk ready to catch his prey. The limousine came to a halt, but the
engine continued to whirr softly. A traffic light, I assumed. People and cars all around us. And
yet no one could peek inside, no one could be alerted to this most bizarre situation.
The car began to move again, rolling slowly, then picking up speed. In the silence of the
car, I watched him adjust his tie. It was just a tiny movement but enough to tell me he was
getting annoyed with me.
A rented apartment s waiting for you in Oregon, Robert Mayfield said. Tomorrow my
driver will pick you up from the underground parking garage at eleven a.m. Don t take
anything with you except for your handbag with the book. You ll be provided with everything
you need for your new life, your flight tickets, and your new passport. The money will be in
your new bank account. I ll get in touch with you once you re in Oregon. I ll do whatever it
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