I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)(7)

He doesn’t know me—not even close. And he’s just done me a favor. Now we’re both where we need to be: in control of ourselves, not each other. We’re done.





Three

Mark . . .

I’m cold inside and out as I exit Riptide, for reasons that have nothing to do with the snow that’s now blowing in fierce gusts. As I slide into the Escalade, Jacob eyes me in the rearview mirror. “Everything okay?”

“Fucking beautiful.”

“Does that mean go to the hotel, or a bar?”

“Sex is my drug, not booze.” Especially not scotch, considering the last time I’d drunk-dialed Ms. Smith and flown her to San Francisco. “Go to the Omni on Madison Avenue.”

“Got it,” he assures me, tapping his GPS.

He pulls away from the curb, and during the three-minute drive I replay my encounter with Ms. Smith. By the time the hotel doormen open our car doors, I tell myself there was no other way than making her hate me. This woman sees beneath my skin, and the sense of freedom in being unable to hide from her is dangerous. Instead of containing what I feel in some moment, when she’s nearby, I get lost in it and in her. She makes me weak enough to forget my control. And I think it’s pretty clear I’m not one of her better choices, either.

Jacob and I enter the white-tiled lobby, a sparkling chandelier above our heads. Due to the late hour and the weather, only a few patrons are sprinkled across the room. “The front desk,” I say when I don’t see any manager I recognize. At the counter, the clerk quickly looks up the alias I’ve registered under, as I did during my mother’s blood infection, and sees the flag on my file. As I follow the woman leading us to a private office, Ms. Smith’s “I’m a gateway” plays in my head, causing a twist of guilt in my gut. She’d have ended up hating me anyway, no doubt rightfully so.

The manager who helps us is no one I know, a pretty blonde whom I barely register outside of her remote resemblance to Ms. Smith, who seems to want to play around in my head. She does whatever check-in computer work that is needed while Jacob engages her in conversation to ensure our privacy.

The woman is efficient and quick, as is Jacob’s glance at our room numbers and the knowing look of disapproval when he sees we’re on different floors. Leveling a stare at him, I dare him to challenge me and he gets the message. We cross the quiet lobby to the elevators, the silence between us lurking, not comfortable.

I hired his team for a specific list of reasons. That list does not include ensuring that I don’t carry out my vow of vengeance, spoken in a moment of torment in front of his boss. But the news that Rebecca was most likely dead and in the Bay, knowing that she’d struggled for years with nightmares of drowning in the Bay, had been torture.

We enter the elevator, riding to his floor in silence. “My room at eight in the morning,” I say when the elevator halts. “That should give us plenty of time to get to my parents’ apartment and then the hospital for my mother’s treatment at ten.”

Jacob punches the button to hold open the door. “I’ve been thinking about tomorrow. You mentioned the press had tracked you to your parents’ apartment during your last stay, even though the apartment had a private garage that should have prevented you from being detected. I can’t help but think someone on the building staff is being paid to tip them off.”

“What are you saying?”

“Your mother wasn’t aware of her surroundings the last time you were here, but she is now. Since you haven’t warned her yet about what’s being said in the news, and you were pleased with the hospital’s protocols for high-profile visitors, I think you need to surprise your mother there.”

My lips thin. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. Change the meet-up time to nine.”

“Check. My gut feeling, and they’re never wrong, is to talk to your mother sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t like how that sounds.”

“My gut feelings saved my life many times in the service.”

I inhale and let it out, wishing like hell I had time to let my mother recover from her treatments before she has to deal with any of this. “I’ll expedite the talk, but I need to pick the right moment. In the meantime, I need you to get me past the leak in my parents’ building.”

“Already on it. I have backup coming to the hospital tomorrow, to cover you while I meet with the apartment security head.” The elevator buzzes in protest of Jacob holding the button. “My time is up.” His lips curve on one side.

As the steel doors close a cluster of thoughts rushes at me almost instantly, and I force it away, leaving my mind blank. It’s all about control.

The ding signaling the twenty-first floor sounds and I go to my regular suite, turning on the living room/office fireplace before three rapid knocks sound on the door—my regular bellman. Before placing my bags in the closets, he offers me a large yellow special-delivery envelope with my name typed on the front.

Adrenaline rushes through me. It’s the information that I’ve been waiting for for a full week. Feeling like I finally have ammunition for the vengeance I fully intend to enact, I double his tip and send him on his way.

Once I’m alone again I slip out of my jacket, loosen my tie, and settle onto the living room couch. Opening the envelope, I find a stack of papers and, conforming to my request of complete invisibility, a disposable phone with a number taped to the back. From this point forward, there are no names. He is “Doc,” a nickname he uses for his precision at delivering whatever his clients need. As far as he’s concerned I’m nobody, which suits me well.