Insidious (34 page)

Could I ever have a normal life?
Just Brody and I, away from Miami, away from the warehouse and Stewart’s deals. Away from Marilyn and Carlisle? I’d never allowed myself to entertain such an idea, but now I did. Could that be my new goal?

The question that arose was what would I be willing to do to achieve it?

As sleep threatened, I knew my answer: anything.

MY NIGHTMARE FROM the night before gave me new resolve. I wasn’t going back to the warehouse. There was no way in hell I could do it. Somehow knowing that if I returned it would be without Stewart made the whole situation seem somehow viler.

Early that next morning, I texted Brody:

“
DO YOU KNOW OF ANYONE NAMED CARLISLE
?”

The next thing I did was call Craven and Knowles. With each ring, I contemplated my options. Until I knew exactly what I was up against, I couldn’t truly form my plan. The answering of my call refocused my attention.

“Craven and Knowles, this is Trish. May I help you?”

“Trish, this is Mrs. Harrington. I need to speak with Parker as soon as possible. Tell him to call me.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll inform Maggie—”

“No, Trish, I’m not interested in his assistant. If I were I’d ask for her. On second thought, tell Parker that if Craven and Knowles plan to be part of the Harrington future, he’ll be at my apartment at ten this morning. I’ll be waiting.”

“Mrs. Harrington, I’m sure he has appointments.”

“Then he can cancel them. Good day.” I hung up.

Settling into Stewart’s chair I opened Parker’s folder, the pages burning my fingers. I hated every word as I scanned Parker’s contract. No longer was I a naïve eighteen-year-old. Now, I understood the meaning of the words. The innuendos were no longer mysterious but daunting. A knock on the door pulled me away from the torturous words on the page and back to the glass office overlooking the rough seas. I glanced at the clock: only a little before nine.

I didn’t think it would be Parker without an announcement from Lisa or Kristina. “Come in,” I responded cautiously.

The door opened and the familiar, dark gaze looked my way. “Mrs. Harrington, are you feeling better?”

I sat taller. “Yes, Travis. It was wrong of Val to bother you in the middle of the night.”

He came forward and eyed one of the chairs. I nodded as he sat. “No, it wasn’t wrong. It’s my job to make sure you’re all right.”

“Fine, it’s your job. You can protect me from real things, not nightmares.”

His brow rose as his dark brown eyes widened. “But you called out for me?”

“According to Valerie,” I clarified.

“So now we’re accusing the good doctor of lying?”

I stood and walked to the window. The skies were an uncustomary gray, with thick clouds that billowed toward the horizon as white caps graced the tips of the waves in the raging ocean. It was late autumn, near the end of hurricane season. Only large commercial ocean liners could be seen on the rough waters. The smaller crafts no doubt had heeded the warning about the impending weather.

Was that what I needed to do? Heed the warnings… but which ones? Who could I believe? Without turning, I began, “It was so real. I was there, at the warehouse. I was even reasoning with myself. I knew it couldn’t be real. I knew Stewart was dead. I remembered you saying that you’d always been there.” I closed my eyes and fought the revolt in the pit of my stomach from Robert’s rancid breath. “I tried to fight.”

A muffled laugh came from behind me. “As I recall, you’re a pretty damn good fighter.”

Hugging my midsection I spun and took in Travis’ expression. I didn’t see pity or condemnation as I’d expected; instead, I saw respect. I continued, “But this time was different. I couldn’t fight. My hands and feet were bound.”

“It wasn’t real,” Travis said matter-of-factly.

“It sure as hell felt real. It smelled real. I even saw him. He took off my blindfold. It was as if he wanted me to know it was him.”

Travis’ neck straightened. “Who? Who did you see?”

Biting my lip, I admitted, “I don’t know if I should say.”

“Why? You know I know who’s been there.”

“But what will it mean if I know? I’m not supposed to know.”

Travis stood and moved closer. “Who said you’re not supposed to know?”

“S-Stewart.”

His dark eyes questioned mine. “Mr. Harrington is dead. Right now, no one owns that contract. Right now, the choice is yours to know or not know.”

I moved back to the chair, suddenly alarmed at my desire to find solace in his proximity and common understanding. “Why would I possibly want to give anyone, you or Parker, the right to make those kinds of decisions for me again?”

“Because if you don’t, there are those who want to suck you into a world that will make your nightmare seem like a walk on the beach.”

“Those?”

“Who did you see in your nightmare?”

I closed my eyes and inhaled. Sighing, I admitted, “Senator Keene.”

Travis’ dark eyes opened wide as a shrill whistle came from his lips. “Damn, how long have you known?”

I shrugged. “Not long. You said politicians. He was at the viewing and I smelled him.”

“You smelled him?”

“You know—senses. I was never able to see the men or hear them. Most of the time I wasn’t allowed to touch them—not with my hands. That left the sense of smell and taste. Over the years I’ve identified a few
friends
by their unique odor: particular colognes, aftershaves, their breath. Senator Keene’s breath reeks.”

Travis nodded. “He’s one of the friends who’s not happy about the end of his visits. He’s supported or rather effectively turned a blind eye to some of the activities that happened within the underworld of Harrington Spas and Suites. He’s even been instrumental in expanding the business outside of the US. He believes that he’s entitled.”

“So how will that change if you or Parker is in control?”

“It won’t. However, it will keep you safer. Mr. Harrington had rules. You’re right that he enjoyed watching, but he also watched to be sure his rules were maintained. Multiple times throughout the years Mr. Harrington stopped things that you never knew about.”

I didn’t want to think about that. “Let me get this straight.” I looked Travis in the eye. “It doesn’t matter if it’s you or Parker, you both plan on making me continue this… this… life?”

“I don’t know what Mr. Craven plans. I would assume he does. From what I know of him, I would also assume the rules would be significantly different under his watchful eye.”

“From what you know? He’s one of them, isn’t he?”

Travis nodded again. “I don’t think that’s a revelation, is it?”

“No,” I admitted. “I’ve known that for a while, too.” I looked at Travis earnestly, “What about you? What are your plans?”

“To bring the fuckers down. Not all of them. There are a few sick bastards who’ve joined this party because they could. They have no hidden agenda. They’ll go away as quietly as they came. They don’t want their good names associated with a possible scandal. A few seconds of carefully selected audio and I can make them go away; however, there are a handful who know exactly what they’re doing. They think that by fucking with you, they’re helping themselves with other causes. I want to see them all burn in hell. Fuck, I’ll probably be there with them, but at least that’s a show I’ll enjoy.”

“Why, Travis? Why do you care?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighed. “One that began when I was too young to understand. Let’s just say that I knew a woman, one who was caught up in something similar to what you’ve gone through, but worse.”

I shook my head. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Really? Fucking look at yourself. Look at your goddamned life. You’re Victoria Fucking Harrington. You aren’t a poor girl with a twelve-year-old kid who’s trying to stay alive by playing the kinky games these ass-wipes want to play. You have choices. Mr. Harrington made choices for you, ones that would pacify the powers that be. They won’t stay pacified for long.

“You want to know what I’d do with that contract. I’d explain a few more of your choices to you. One thing I’d say is that you have a fucking fortune. Use it. Take it. Leave the goddamn world of Harrington Spas and Suites to rot.

“Do you really want to own a company that is nothing more than a cover for the exploitation of women who don’t live the fucking high life you live? I’m not saying that you’ve had it easy. You haven’t. But at the end of each day, you were unhurt and sleeping in a fancy-ass apartment or mansion with a fucking rock on your finger that could feed one of those other women’s families for five years.”

My stomach knotted. I’d never thought about it like that.

“You were destined for that life. Mr. Harrington made it the best he could. Now is your chance to make it better.”

Travis’ voice lowered. “I can guarantee that if you choose to not sign a contract with either one of us, my fucking job will get a lot more difficult. They want you.”

“Who? Who fucking wants me?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Who fucked you the other day?”

I no longer felt that I had any secrets from Travis. In a way it was liberating. Without blinking, I replied honestly, “Brody Phillips.”

He shook his head. “Jesus, are you fucking crazy? He’s part of Craven and Knowles. They’re so deep in this shit. Your sense of smell should have told you to stay away.”

“No, you’re wrong. He does work there, but he’s not one of them. He didn’t know about the contract, the warehouse, or anything until I asked him to dig into it. All he knows is what I’ve told him.”

Travis leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So he’s the reason you knew about the will?”

“Yes. You see? He’s helped me. It’s Parker I don’t trust.”

“Follow your gut… with Mr. Craven.”

“He’s on his way over.”

Travis inhaled deeply, his chest expanding in his tight shirt. “I implore you, Mrs. Harrington, do not sign his contract. Tell him that you’ve thought it over and want to fulfill your husband’s wishes. If you trust Mr. Phillips so much, have him write up a new contract with my name. But above all, under no circumstances should you sneak off without me. You truly don’t realize what you’re up against.”

“Travis, before you go, I want you to tell me something.”

His brow rose.

“Who is Carlisle?”

The blood drained from Travis’ usually confident expression. “Mrs. Harrington, neither Senator Keene nor Parker Craven is your worst nightmare. I’m not sure how or why you’re aware of Carlisle Albini; however, I suggest you forget what you know. He’s none of your concern; neither is Niccolo, Wesley, nor any of their family.”

None of my concern.
Stewart had said that before we married.
Albini?
Wesley Albini, from Kinsley Preparatory.

“Niccolo is Carlisle’s brother. Who’s Wesley?” I asked.

“Mrs. Harrington, you have no idea what you’re asking.”

I raised my voice. “Tell me. Who is he?”

“Wesley is his son.”

“Niccolo’s son?”

“No, Carlisle’s.”

My head felt suddenly too heavy to hold. Wesley Albini was my brother.

“MRS. HARRINGTON,” KRISTINA’S voice came through the speaker of my phone. “Mr. Craven is here for his ten o’clock appointment.”

“Thank you, Kristina. Show him in.”

I stood.

“Vic-tor-ia.” He elongated my name as he entered Stewart’s office, my office.

“Parker, so nice of you to accommodate my wishes. I’m not quite ready to face the world.”

“It’s my pleasure. I understand that this is still a difficult time for you.” He sat across from my desk and leaned forward. “I suppose it will be for a while. I truly wish we didn’t need to discuss the matters at hand; however, I believe the sooner we address this, the sooner we can have it resolved.”

“Resolved?” I questioned. “I’m not sure what we need to resolve.”

“Victoria, you are in a precarious situation. If it weren’t so dire, I would gladly wait. However, there are deals that Stewart made, ones he has yet to fully repay.”

“Surely you’ve been in contact with our accountants and bankers. I’m confident that they can take care of whatever it is you need.”