Flawlessly Broken: (Broken Series Book 2) (2 page)

More hesitation, then, “I told you that she owns a restaurant in D.C., right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there was some sort of issue there a couple days ago, something with a restaurant critic, and she hasn’t been into work since. She won’t answer her phone, not even for Ali. No one knows where she is or what exactly happened. All we know is that she texted the manager and told her to take over until further notice. She’s been totally off the grid ever since.”

From what I remembered about Talia, she wasn’t the type to shirk her responsibilities. Something serious had to have happened. But I wasn’t sure what Clay was asking of me. “Okay, I’m assuming you want my help, right? What do you need me to do? You want me to try and track her credit cards or something?” I knew my way around a computer, had a few tricks up my sleeve that could help locate her.

He sounded relieved. “You can try the cards but your best bet is her phone. Ali says she carries it with her at all times in case of an emergency at the restaurant.”

I told him to text me the number and I’d call as soon as I got home and checked it out.

Half an hour later I had him back on the line. “So, I tracked the number you gave me and got a location.” I rattled off the street address that coincided with the red dot on my computer screen.

He sighed in apparent relief. “That’s the address of her apartment.”

I’d thought it sounded familiar. I should have remembered since I’d been there a few months ago helping Ali move her things out.

I heard Ali’s voice in the background for a moment before she came on the line. “Spencer?”

“Yeah. Hey, Ali.”

Her voice was strained and afraid. “She’s at the apartment? You’re sure?”

“Yep. I’m looking at the signal right now. If she has the phone with her, she’s at the apartment.”

“I know you have all these cool tech skills... can you activate the camera on the phone or something? Anything to verify that she’s all right?”

I blinked stupidly for a second, not understanding the desperation in her voice. “I’m not quite that skilled, I’m sorry to say.” She sniffed. Shit, was she crying? “Ali, I’m sure she’s okay. If you’re that worried, can you have a neighbor go and check on her? Or maybe a friend from work?”

Another sniff. “There’s no one I trust to check on her. The only neighbors we’re close with are the elderly couple who share our floor, and they vacation in Florida from November through April. Anyone else would have to be buzzed in and I doubt she would do that if she won’t even answer her phone.” She paused for a second. “Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“I could call the front desk and have them let someone in. They all know me, and I could convince them that whoever I send is there to water the plants or something. I don’t live there anymore, but my name is still on the lease. Plus, the doormen love me because I bring them presents and snacks, especially during winter.”

Clay’s voice filtered through the line, and although I didn’t catch it all, I could have sworn he said... “Wait. Did Clay just say Stony the Sloth? What the hell is he talking about?”

She clicked her tongue and told Clay to shush. “It’s nothing. He doesn’t like one of the doormen. Swears the guy is high every time he sees him, but that’s beside the point.” The line went silent for so long I had to check my phone to see that we were still connected. When she finally spoke, it was with quiet pleading in her voice. “If I call ahead and get you cleared, will you go check on her for me? I know it’s a long drive, but you’re the only one I trust to do it. I’d do it myself but I can’t leave here. We won’t be able to grab a day away for at least a couple of weeks.”

Me?

She wanted me to go check on Talia? I barely knew the woman. I mean, sure, we spent some time together at the hospital and again when we helped with Clay’s proposal to Ali at the lake, but that didn’t mean it was okay for me to just show up on her doorstep. The doorstep. Aha! I just found my way out. “Let’s assume I go. Getting me into the building won’t get me in the door. What if she refuses to answer? I can’t very well kick the door in.”

“Damn.” She sounded deflated momentarily but suddenly sucked in a big breath. “Wait, they have a spare key to each apartment in the office. I can just tell them that I forgot to give you my key and ask that they let you have the spare.” The hope in her voice was hard to ignore. “Please, Spencer. She never ignores my calls. Ever. The longer I go without hearing from her, the more afraid I get. If you don’t go, I’m coming home to check on her myself, my contract be damned.”

Clay started protesting loudly in the background, not wanting her to lose her dream job.

Shit.

Looked like I was headed to D.C.

Somewhere between Richmond and D.C.

HOW DID I LET
myself get talked into this?

Yeah, Ali said she’d cleared the way and that Talia would be too polite to kick me out of the apartment, but I still wasn’t convinced my going there was a good idea. Although, given that Clay and Ali were stuck over four hours away, my nearly two hour drive wasn’t such a big deal. Growing up in a moderately rural area—forty-five minutes from everywhere—I’d grown accustomed to long drives to get to a decent-sized city. Besides, I make the trip to D.C. all the time. It was fairly routine to meet with prospective clients there, actually, so the distance wasn’t a problem.

The issue was that I had no clue what I would be walking in on when I got there.

Despite Ali’s assurances to the contrary, I was half-convinced that Talia was holed up at the apartment with a man, maybe enjoying having the place to herself now that Ali had moved in with Clay.

My luck, I’d walk in on something I’d have to spend the next twenty years trying to erase from my memory.

Images of whips and ropes flashed like lightning through my mind, making me cringe as my grip tightened on the steering wheel. Not that I had any reason to think she was into that, but one never knew. Just because she looked sweet and innocent…

I wasn’t sure what was more disturbing, the thought of walking in on something illicit or the idea of having to live with the image for the rest of my life.

I forcibly shook the train of thought from my mind, rolling my shoulders to break the tension and sinking into the plush leather seat of my methodically-restored 1971 Chevelle. It was my most prized possession these days, my favorite place to spend time. Just me and the road, the roar of the engine chasing away everything else. It had an impressive sound system—accurate retro styling with updated technology—but I rarely switched it on. The deep rumble emitted by the exhaust was better than any music I’d ever heard and I respected the hell out of it.

Once I shifted my focus from worrying about what I’d find at my destination, I was able to enjoy the ride. The Chevelle was the main reason I never balked at having to travel for meetings. That car was my sanctuary. My escape.

And, unfortunately, it usually got me from A to B much faster than I wanted.

Before I had time to revisit my earlier misgivings, I was sitting in front of Talia’s apartment building and hoping like hell that I wasn’t making a mistake by getting involved.

I stepped out of the car and pulled my jacket tighter around myself as I approached the entrance. The chill in the air was a reminder that, although spring was nearly upon us, winter still lingered.

My breath came out in thick plumes as I hurried into the lobby. The place was somewhere between middle and upper class. Expensive flooring polished to a high shine, a reception desk made out of deep cherry, and beautiful artwork tastefully placed throughout. It was impressive, in a cold way.

I stepped over to the desk, catching the eye of the young man seated behind it as he absently set aside his phone. His reddish hair was long and stringy, tucked behind his ears and in need of a good wash. His light eyes were red-rimmed.

I flashed a smile and tipped my head toward him. “Hey. How’s it going?”

His expression was tired and a bit distracted. He cast a longing glance at his phone before answering, “Not too bad. How can I help you?”

“My name is Spencer Erickson. I believe Alison Walker called ahead about me.”

It was interesting watching the guy scouring his memory for the conversation with Ali. His brow crinkled and he was midway through shaking his head “no” when the fog lifted and he snapped his fingers, seeming momentarily startled by the sound.

He wore no name tag, but I was betting this was Stony the Sloth.

“Oh, yeah. You’re the dog walker or plant waterer or something, right?”

Close enough. I smiled to hide my snicker. “Yep. That’s me. Ali said you’d have the spare key for me when I got here.”

He rummaged around on the desk, twice grazing a hand over his phone to check for messages before finally pulling the key marked 7B and handing it over. “Here you go. You can’t take it when you leave but I have it written down that you’re authorized to use it so you don’t have to get Ali to call each time you come to...” he stumbled to remember for a moment before adding, “do whatever you do. She told me it was okay.”

I accepted the key, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be needing to come back but not sharing that information with Stony. “Thanks, man. I’ll drop it off on the way out.”

He nodded, turning his attention back to his phone without further comment as I waited for the elevator.

Yep, I could see why Clay liked him so much.

I STEPPED OUT
of the elevator on the seventh floor and just stood there for a minute. It was nearing eight o’clock. The relative silence in the hallway was broken by my growling stomach loudly reminding me that I’d skipped lunch, and dinner was long overdue. It would have to wait. Hopefully, I could make quick work of this little mission and grab something on my way back home.

The door to apartment 7B sounded hollow beneath my knuckles when I knocked.

It was a disconcerting sound, one that instantly brought forth images of an injured or ill Talia lying just on the other side of the door, unable to obtain help all this time.

Shit, I was turning into Ali.

My heart was beating a little faster as I raised my hand to knock again, ears acutely attuned to any hint of sound. If there was no answer after a reasonable amount of time, I would go in uninvited.

I may have had a key, but I preferred not to use it unless I had to.

Three more sharp raps followed by silence.

I was midway through an internal debate about my next move when I heard a rustling on the other side of the door. A few seconds later, it came again. I reached out and tapped the door, calling out to her. “Talia?” No response. “Talia? It’s Spencer. Ali sent me to check on you, and I’m not supposed to leave until I see you. Open the door, okay? I just need to know that you’re all right and then I can go. I promise.”

The rustling sound came again, this time directly on the other side of the door. Talia didn’t speak, but the door clicked open a moment later. Just an inch. Then the rustling sound began moving away.

I tentatively reached out and pushed the door open, not sure what to make of her lack of response. Her retreating form moved across the living room, her back to me as she sniffed quietly.

Shit. She was crying.

From the looks of the wadded-up Kleenex covering every flat surface, she had been crying for quite a while.

The floorplan was open, expansive even, with high ceilings and large windows. The living room was directly in front of me, spacious and comfortably furnished. There was a large couch against the wall to the left and a matching loveseat facing the windows. The long coffee table was dotted with wadded Kleenex, as was the small end table next to the love seat.

The kitchen lay to my far left, with its shiny stainless appliances and overhanging countertop that served as a bar, complete with cushioned chairs. Past the kitchen was a wide archway leading to the hallway and the bedrooms and bathrooms beyond.

It was a really nice place in a town where square-footage came at a premium. As a homebuilder, I would know.

I stepped fully into the apartment and closed the door, turning back just as she sank gracelessly into the plush love seat, still facing away from me.