Carter Reed(45)

He came over and pulled the comforter from underneath me. As he tucked me into the bedding, he kissed my naked shoulder. His lips brushed against my skin. “Sleep, Emma. I will be back.”

“Wait.” Suddenly panicked, I caught his hand before he slipped away. “Where are you going?”

“I have to take care of some things. I will be back.” He glanced out the door. “If you need anything, the men are here.” He brushed some of my hair back from my forehead. “Sleep, Emma. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

“Carter.” I wanted him with me. I didn’t want him to leave, but he was gone the next instant. As he turned off the light and shut the door behind him, I was left with my heart constricting in fear. I didn’t want him to go, that was the bottom line for me. I wanted him with me. I wanted to sleep a night with him, especially after the night we just had. But, as I lay there for another hour, I knew he had things to do.

I wasn’t going to get any sleep that night.

He didn’t return for the rest of the weekend. Saturday passed, then Sunday. I spent both days wandering around the building. I sent a few text messages to Amanda, asking how Mallory was, but they went unanswered. I wasn’t surprised. Theresa called me Sunday afternoon and asked if I wanted to come for dinner, but I declined. She saw Carter with me. She knew that I knew him and had kept quiet when she discussed him earlier. An explanation, albeit short and mostly fabricated, was needed to smooth out our co-working relationship; along with any friendship I felt was burgeoning. However, as I rose Monday morning and dressed for work, I didn’t have the energy needed to dredge up a lie that made sense.

Mike had the morning off so a new guard was beside me. Two more were inside the home, while another two were outside the elevator. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Carter had an entire perimeter around me. He extended messages through his men to me: that he was alright, that he wished me goodnight, and that he would return as soon as possible. I didn’t know if they were actually from Carter or something he told his men to say if they sensed my growing restlessness. I had no idea, but I tried to keep myself from becoming angry. I knew he was a busy man. After an attack like we had, I knew he would have more pressing matters to attend to, but I missed him.

And I worried about him.

I’d been in my office for ten minutes before Mr. Hudson barreled through. He didn’t knock. Again. “What’d you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’d you do?” He tossed a paper on my desk. “We were taken off the Bourbon account. What’d you do? Miss Webber requested it and since she’s higher than you and her boss is higher than me, we got pinched. What’d you do, Emma?”

I picked up the paper and saw it was an email from the Director of Sales sent to Mr. Hudson. There it was, it said in three short sentences that the group had been reassigned. The team had two new names and we weren’t on it. I checked the bottom of the page. It was sent from Noah Tomlinson himself.

I gulped.

Theresa really did have a problem with Carter, and she knew I was connected to him. Shit. We were off the account because of me.

“So?”

I lied, I had no other choice. “I have no idea, Mr. Hudson. Theresa and I were getting along fine. She even invited me over for drinks Friday night. I went to Octave with her.”

He started a huff, but froze midway. “You went to Octave? You got into Octave?” He was taken aback. “Well now. My girls say that’s the place to get into and you got in?” His head bobbed in some form of a nod, but then he frowned. “Well something happened between then until now. We’re out. I want you to fix it. I want to be on that team, Emma. Make it happen.”

I picked up my phone, ready to call…who? I had no one to call. Mallory was the one I usually called. If she didn’t answer, I went to Amanda. But since the bathroom a full week ago, I hadn’t heard from her, and Mallory had never been one to reach out. Who was my other friend? Theresa, for one week, and Carter but I couldn’t even call him. He was off doing what Mike had termed, ‘the clean-up’ from Friday night’s attack. I didn’t want to know what that meant and judging by the grim set of his shoulders, I saw that he didn’t want me to ask. But it made sense since there’d been no coverage of our attack. I checked the news over the weekend. Nothing.

I put my phone back down and sent Theresa an email instead. An automatic response came back stating she’d be out of the office all week. A few days passed with no results. It wasn’t until Thursday, the day that I was supposed to be leaving for New York that I even glimpsed Theresa.

I pushed the button for the elevator, and it opened. My eyes popped out when I saw Theresa inside, with a pencil in her mouth and two large suitcases beside her. She was holding onto a large poster, but it started to slip out of her hands. “OH!” She scrambled to catch it, losing her other grip on the briefcase. It fell to the floor and opened, scattering papers, pens, folders, and flashdrives all over the floor. “Oh no.” She bent and started to grab for her stuff.

I got in, hit my button, and knelt to help her.

“Oh gosh. You don’t have to do that. Really, Emma.” She gave me an awkward smile around the pencil still in her mouth.

I settled back on my feet. That wasn’t the reaction I had been expecting. “Oh, no. It’s no problem.” I glanced down at some of the papers in my hands and saw the logo for the new Richmond Bourbon. The two suitcases seemed ominous next to her. “So you’re going to the airport from here?”