Icing on the Cake (10 page)

“Brice,” Aerial said.

“She used my love, my trust, and turned it against me. Her betrayal was the worse part—the lies, the pretend feelings, the mockery she made of me…I used to wish I had died on that operating table.”

“But you didn’t.”

Brice shook his head. He’d wanted to that very night.

“No, I didn’t,” Brice croaked through a throat burning with unshed tears. He rubbed at the scar again, trying to soothe the sensation of a thousand ants crawling over it.

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police? Why did you keep working with her for seven years?” Aerial rubbed her eyes.

“I was in and out of consciousness for a week. Here’s what I learned later. The neighbor had called 9-1-1 during the midst of our verbal argument. The cops on the scene found Brooke bruised with cuts on her hands, and injuries that were consistent with a fight, an attack. She confessed that the attacker tried to kill us because I tried to save her. To that end, she confessed to having picked up the knife after my heroic efforts—even as I bled to death—to protect herself. I think she expected me to die. By the time I tried to tell the cops my version, they dismissed it as unsubstantiated by physical evidence. They said all the physical CSI stuff pointed to an attacker.”

“You could’ve quit.”

“I-I could’ve but I wanted her to see me every day, knowing what she did. It was foolish pride. I refused to let her chase me off. Part of me wanted to see her hauled off in handcuffs by the police…”

Brice rubbed his face. He didn’t know why he had stayed, except he liked his job, rarely saw Brooke due to his busy travel schedule, and he refused to let her take yet another thing from him.

Perhaps seeing the exhaustion on his face or the exasperation on his face, Aerial got up and walked around to him. She cupped his cheek and bent down, kissing his mouth. “Leave her in the past. Don’t let her continue to haunt you.”

If only he could. “Brooke broke into C.A.K.E. today. I caught her.”

“What?” She put her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, so as you can imagine, it looks very suspicious.”

“I can see how people who don’t know you could think that. Clearly, they don’t know you.”

Brice sighed, falling into her shining eyes. How was Aerial able to remove his burden with only a curve of her lips and a suggestion?  She kissed him again.

“Come to bed. You need to rest.”

“Yes, I do.”

Chapter
Twelve

Tuesday

Close to nine o’clock Tuesday morning, Brice’s blood roared through him as he took the stairs up to the second floor.  When he reached the top, he wavered a bit. Last night, he’d slept wonderfully in Aerial’s embrace and found peace engulfed in her soft snoring. A cold sweat broke out over him. He walked by Kevin O’Bryan’s desk and nodded at him. The red-haired assistant held up his hand.

“Morning, Middleton. The pow-wow is in conference room A.”

“Thanks.”

Brice power-walked around the corner and down the hall to the first conference room on the right. As he entered, he found Kaiden seated beside Stephen Silver. Tawana sat to his left, and the Human Resources director, Carol King, sat next to her. For a tiny bit, Brice felt like he’d been summoned to a disciplinary action meeting. 

“Sit down, Brice,” Mr. Silver ordered. Like always, the president of C.A.K.E. was cool, calm, and calculating.

Brice sat across from them. He hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did they all look like he had? Perhaps Mr. Silver didn’t tell the others he’d caught Brooke.

“Thank you for your quick response yesterday,” Mr. Silver said. “Your fast thinking and early work ethic stopped Brooke from getting whatever it was she wanted.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Brice answered. His knuckles ached from gripping the armrest. Forcing himself to relax, he swallowed down the swirl of emotions in his throat. Aerial’s kiss still lingered on his lips. Taking courage from her love, he sat taller in the seat. Whatever they wanted, he knew that when he left, Aerial would be waiting for him.

“Brooke Haven is a dangerous woman. She was seven years ago, and I missed it,” Mr. Silver said.

Stephen Silver stood up and walked to the front of the conference room. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he nodded at Brice.

“I’ve never been one to forbid employees from dating. Carol and I discussed it and when an issue arose, we dealt with it. I always treated us as a family. Foolishly, I believe close working arrangements breeds love, nurtures it, but…”

“Not everyone is Brooke Haven,” Brice said, clearing his throat.

“What do you mean?” Tawana asked Brice.

 “Brooke and Brice were dating, and the victims of an attack,” Mr. Silver explained. “Brice knows more about Brooke than anyone here. Tell us about that night you were attacked.”

“Just start at the beginning,” Carol added. She fiddled with her tablet, probably recording the entire meeting. Somehow, this made him feel
better
.

“I don’t know why I need to discuss my personal relationship.” Brice frowned. Why now? No one gave a damn seven years ago, but suddenly they wanted to know.

Carol smiled pleasantly.  “Mr. Middleton, seven years ago, Brooke Haven—a battered and beaten—Brooke came to my office and begged for your job. She told us that a home intruder attacked you both. Now, the same woman breaks into C.A.K.E. and we believe she had inside help. You’re the only person here with a bond to her.”

Brice rubbed the scar because it seemed to burn. “I don’t have a bond to her.”

Carol’s quirked an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. I don’t know why Brooke begged for my job, but for years I tried to get the police to acknowledge that there wasn’t an intruder who attacked me.”

“No intruder? Humor me, Mr. Middleton. What did happen?” Carol asked, the sarcasm slicing in his already churning stomach.

“Brooke stabbed me.”

Tawana gasped and Kaiden looked like he’d swallowed something unpleasant. Brice could empathize. The truth could be bitter going down. Brice had more than enough experience with bitter pills and hard truths.

“Brice told me this, but I believed, foolishly, what the cops told me. That Brice was suffering from post-traumatic stress and due to the trauma he suffered, did not remember clearly the events of that night.” Mr. Silver sank into another chair and sat with his elbows on the table, hands tented in front of his face.

Brice nodded, forcing the burning sting of tears back down into his belly. He wouldn’t cry for the audience in front of him. None of them deserved his tears and Brooke damn well didn’t.

 “Well, he did suffer a traumatic event. How accurate is your memory, Mr. Middleton?” Carol interjected.

“Let him tell it, Carol.” It came out like a bark more than a request.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Silver.”

Brice sighed. He didn’t know what Mr. Silver had planned or why he wanted Brice to tell this story again, but he did as he was told.

“It’s really simple. Brooke cheated on me. Hurt, I went to her apartment, to confront her with the evidence I had. She attacked me. I woke up a week later in the hospital.”

“Evidence?” Carol asked.

“Of her being unfaithful. Phone logs, dates she said she was working but was elsewhere, pictures—” Brice broke off. He didn’t need to tell them that Brooke had cheated on him with a fellow salesman named Patrick Pedmore. The guy had been fired by Silver shortly after Brice came back to work.

“None of it matters. What does matter is why she broke in today? How did she get in and what does she want?” Kaiden said.

Brice opened his eyes and found Mr. Silver staring at him.

“No, Kaiden, it does matter. I misjudged Brooke Haven before. I felt sorry for her attack in her apartment. I believed her, Kaiden. We all did. And she lied. Moreover, she tried to kill Brice. For years, she worked under the same damn roof, knowing her victim was here too. Think of the level of depravity, of absolute vacancy in empathy. Brooke’s evil must be understood if we can, as you put it, figure out what she wants. I need to understand her, and Brice is the only person who can give us that insight.”

He saw Mr. Silver’s burning anger in those blue eyes. It had nothing to do with the building, or Brice, but Brice understood that the one thing Silver valued more than anything—Cree Caruthers—also worked here. A threat to the woman he loved and the employees he cared about all because he failed to acknowledge Brice’s statement—that Brooke stabbed him. Mr. Silver had relied on the cops and they had failed.

If Brooke would attempt to kill Brice, why not, say the person she held responsible for her firing—Silver’s fiancée, Cree.

Brice saw it all in the unwavering scowl on Mr. Silver’s face.

And he understood.

If any good could come out of him telling them about that horrible night, then he would. But not his pain, his anguish, or the details. Silence hung heavy in the room like a dark curtain despite the bright fluorescent lights.

“The rest, you know,” Brice concluded.

Mr. Silver stood up. “When I arrived at the hospital, Brooke told me the attacker story. I believed her.”

“We all did,” Carol added. “The cops did too.”

“So, what happens now?” Tawana asked. “She’s clearly dangerous and violent. How did she get in here and what did she want?”

Brice knew she worried about Aerial.

Mr. Silver went over to the dry erase board. “That is what we’re going to find out. Starting now. The detectives suspect that Brooke broke in to steal sales information. Maybe to start her own advertising firm. The Greensboro police department wanted to know how she got in. Cameras marked her entrance as a little less than an hour prior to Brice’s arrival. The keycard she used to get in belonged to an ex-employee. Too many questions still, but the case is open. Let’s see what we can put together now.”

He turned to Brice and with a smile said, “When we catch her, it will be because of you. You were strong enough to share your pain and knowledge of her with us. I won’t forget your bravery.”

Brice nodded again, too stunned for words. He’d never dream that anything good could come of his pain. 

Chapter
Thirteen

Saturday, Three Months Later

Office of Stevens & Eaton Detective Agency

Stephen Silver didn’t like Olivia Eaton’s big, chunky, oak desk. Sure, it was finely crafted, but he felt it too much furniture for such a small space. The partial owner of Stevens & Eaton Detective Agency, Olivia Eaton sat behind said atrociousness in a cheap rolling chair. He cast his eyes at Carte.

Not a single brown hair out of place, Carte, dressed as usual as if it was a formal event, stood beside him. Only Olivia sat. Everyone else remained standing. Beside him was Tonica Faye, who was the sole reason Stephen was here on a Saturday and not nestled beneath Cree’s sensual warmth.

Just thinking about his lovely wife-to-be, made him sigh.

“Whatever it is, it must be pretty damn important to get both of you in my office, on a Saturday at that.” Olivia said and pointed at Carte. “You owe me. But you…”

“I don’t owe anyone,” Stephen said.

Olivia’s high arching brows raised at his tone.

“You’re fifteen minutes late, you’ve talked on the phone and you’ve wasted my time. This is not how you conduct a business,” Stephen said, his patience exhausted. The incredibly small office seemed to close in on him.

“Wait, Stephen, please.” Carte touched his arm. “Granted, Olivia’s late, but she has good reason. No one is the better at what they do in the Triad, hell possibly in the state. It’s worth some inconvenience for results. Right?”

Stephen saw Carte’s point. He didn’t like anything about the situation with Brooke. Nothing. But, here it was—a blight on his business. A loose end threatening to trip up everyone involved. If Brooke hurt Cree, or any of his employees like she’d done to Brice, he’d be ruined—emotionally and financially.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry, Silver,” Tonica said. “One of our cases got tied up with the cops. Took a while to break free.”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded at Olivia. “You do know who he is.”

“I do.”

The tension welled in the short distance between him and Olivia.

She wore big, gold hoop earrings and her jet black hair was pulled high into a ponytail. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, she didn’t look like a detective of any kind, but neither did Tonica.

“Why
are
you here?” Olivia asked, clearly not liking what he’d said. Her dark brown eyes narrowed on the word
here
as if she wished he’d go anywhere but
there.

“Obviously, I have a job for you.” Stephen nodded and Carte put the manila folder on the desk.

Olivia took it and passed it to Tonica without looking at it.

“What kind of job?” Olivia asked. Her eyes locked with his. Strong-willed, just like Cree. He liked that in a woman, and for that, she earned his respect.

“Information, location, and tangible proof of intent.”

“Intent to do what?”

“Harm me, steal from me, and hurt my employees, my fiancée or my business. I want to know
everything…
” He caught himself. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

“Do you accept the case?” he asked her.

“Depends on what I hear. Details please.”

 “Three months ago my business was broken into by a former employee. She used a keycard that was supposed to be deactivated, and was, but a few months ago we learned it had been reactivated. The police are nowhere close to resolving the break-in. But I want it resolved.”

“Okay. What information do you need? Pictures, video, what?” Olivia asked, turning to a sleek, flat laptop. She typed as she spoke.

“Name of the individual.”

“Brooke Haven.”

“Address.”

“It’s in the file.”

Olivia sighed. “Look, I know you’re super famous and powerful, but in here, you’re a client. I’m not your secretary. So when I ask for details…”