Like a Fox (14 page)

Chapter 19

“Do you have a plan?” Vic asks, cutting through the silence inside his car. Earlier he had tried talking to me and I told him to shut up, rather harshly. He hasn’t spoken since (until now, that is).

I ignore him. I’m still torn up about what I’ve learned. I wish I had taken a moment to myself to sort through it all. I’ll never be able to properly think with Vic so close.

“You need a plan, Freya. You can’t just walk in there and demand he leave your
daddy
alone.”

He’s says daddy like I’m five.

“Belittling me isn’t helping your case, asshole.” I guess I’m back to name calling. I’m okay with that. It releases some of my tension.

Vic’s hand pounds down on the steering wheel while he talks, “You need a plan. You need to be prepared. You need to approach this like a business transaction. Use your head, not your heart.”

He’s right. I hate that he is, but I’m not too proud to admit it, “How do I do that?”

“When we get there, let me do the talking–”

I cut him off, “No way–”

Vic cuts back in, “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Be levelheaded, never interrupt, and wait your turn. Vault is a businessman. He will treat you like one and allow you time to state your case. Show him the same courtesy, even if all you want to do is punch his fucking lights out. But first, let me get us to his office and start the conversation.”

“Fine,” I agree. I’ll give him that, but only because he knows where we’re going. “How do I even know you’re on my side?”

His jaw twitches and he flexes his neck, making it crack, “I understand you’re upset, so I’m letting a lot of things slide.” He shifts his focus from the road to me, “But don’t ever doubt my commitment to you. Not ever.”

I’ve never been more torn in my emotions and thoughts than I have been the past few hours. I want more than anything to trust Vic, to believe him, but then I think of my father and Vic’s involvement.

“Help me to understand,” I whisper to my hands that are knotting and unknotting in my lap.

“I’m very good at what I do.” He shifts in his seat, adjusting for comfort, “I take pride in that fact. A very powerful man came to me with a case. This man had taken over the family business and came across something that his now deceased father had buried. He wanted answers. This has been going on for years and is finally coming close to an end. One of the ways for that to happen is for him to find a certain man who has a high possibility of giving him the answers he seeks. He called upon me to help find this man. My relentless research found me seven possible choices. On instinct I started with the least obvious. My instincts, as usual, were correct. As for the next part, what specifically would you like more information on to help you better understand?”

I can tell he’s sincere and a little part of me loses my anger towards him, “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

Vic gives a curt nod, “Proceed.”

“My father said he was presumed dead. Why would he come up as someone to find?”

“He was, but these men can never be too cautious. The car was inspected and the bodies could not be found. People searched, but more important things came up and he was forgotten over time.”

I think back to the last few weeks and at the same time I remember an incident. I unintentionally speak under my breath, almost laughing at how my father’s “paranoia” has some merit, “He was right. Someone had been on his computer.”

“Yes, but at that point I already knew it was him. I did that on purpose.”

“Why?”

“I needed him to worry and figure out his next plan. When he didn’t, he gave me no choice but to let my presence be known.”

“Is that the only reason why you agreed to the family dinner?” I try to not let the hurt convey in my voice.

“No,” Vic reassures me, reaching his hand out to my leg. I stiffen, not sure if I’m ready for that. His hand goes back to the wheel and I regret my reaction. I could use the contact right now to soothe my vulnerability. “I wanted to see you around those you love. You light up around your family. It also happened to be the perfect situation for us to meet. It is…what have you said before? A win-win?”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You could have done it when you told me what you do for a living.”

“Who I find is a private matter between who hired me and myself. I would not be as respected and trusted as I am if I went around disclosing information. Besides, the two had nothing to do with each other. It’s unfortunate the man I was looking for also happened to be the father of the woman I became infatuated with, but life is rarely agreeable.”

“Mm,” is my only response, needing time to absorb what I’ve learned.

I think in his own way Vic does care about me. I also believe that it’s more than he has for anybody else. However, I’m not sure he’s capable of understanding love and what it means to love a person, or for that matter, truly love someone himself. I don’t fault him for this. We grew up with very different backgrounds, with very different parents. And therein lies my problem: I need the person I’m with to love me just as deeply as I do them. I don’t want it to be one-sided.

I push these thoughts aside, as they are the least of my problems at the moment, and try to come up with different scenarios of how I will handle this Vault guy. What can I say or do to convince him to leave my father alone? Or perhaps maybe a way my father can help without his identity surfacing so we can all go back to our lives?

I come up with nothing. I’m screwed.

Chapter 20

“Are you coming?” Vic beckons at the entrance of a skyscraper.

I tilt my head back, eyes roaming towards the top. They pause on the lettering that reads: Cole Private Bank and Trust. “A bank?”

Vic doesn’t answer; he never does when the answer is obvious. Instead, he opens the door and gestures for me to enter.

“A bank,” I repeat under my breath, face scrunching as I scrutinize the building once more. I had no idea where Vic would take me, but this sure wasn’t it. I had imagined it would be placed in an area that never seemed to get sunshine, the street vents always steaming, and homeless men loitering next to it, rummaging through trash cans. A place that screamed: Warning! Enter at your own risk. I expected Gotham-fucking-City, not women passing us pushing strollers, happily drinking their coffee. It makes me even more wary than if we truly had entered Gotham.

I remember in elementary school learning about hippopotamuses and how they seem like these calm, laid back creatures, but are really quite aggressive and one of the most dangerous animals because of that. You get close to one and you can expect death. They will stop at nothing until you are no longer a threat.

Yes, I just referred to a high-rise building being like a hippo. I’ve clearly lost it. And this is the mind that is hoping to save her father? I’m royally fucked.

For the first time, I have reservations. Vic was right. I don’t have a clue what I’m getting myself into.

Vic clears his throat, snapping me out of my foreboding thoughts. He’s no longer at the door but standing inches in front of me. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You have a better idea for saving my father?”

“Yes. Let him hide again.”

I take in a deep, irritated breath, clenching my jaw, “God, you’re insensitive.” I push past him, letting
myself
through the door.

Vic lets out a long sigh of his own, his sounding like one of exhaustion.

I stand inside, once again taking everything in. This bank is gorgeous, and definitely caters to the elite. Dark mahogany columns and marble flooring that in itself looks like a piece of art, with gold lines dancing around in a design that has no clear pattern but is exquisite nonetheless. The people also contribute to its upper class feel, everyone dressed in tailored clothes and polished shoes, not a hair out of place or wrinkle in their attire or features.

Vic places a hand to my lower back. I take comfort in it for a brief second before I step to the side, letting it fall. His face hardens, “This way, and remember what I told you.”

I follow behind him to the back of the building and through a door that takes us to a row of elevators. At the far end of these elevators, and what immediately captures my attention, is a gold plated one, polished and shining to the point that it’s blinding. In the middle of this gold elevator is a vault spindle engraved in black.

Vic goes to that elevator, scanning his hand on a pad to the right of it and punching in something I can’t see. He motions for me to step forward and he takes my hand, having me do the same and entering in a code after.

It dings and the gold door opens. Two men appear with identical matching suits, ear pieces, parted hair, and hands clasped in front of them. Both of them remain straight-faced and staring ahead, not acknowledging us as Vic and I enter.

The one to my left is about to have his hand scanned from the inside, but pauses to quickly eye me. He looks to Vic, “You check her?”

Vic nods but the man is still hesitant, like he’s reluctant to let me ride. All Vic does is raise a brow at the man in a “Do you doubt me?” way and the man places it on the scanner, followed by tapping out what ever it is they have to enter after. Then the rest of us do the same, Vic entering the code for me. I wonder if I would have even gotten this far without Vic? I’d probably still be trying to figure out how to even find this Vault character.

The gold door closes and we ascend.

“Is that real?” I point to the door.

Vic peers over at me, “Yes.”

“Disgusting,” I mutter under my breath. What kind of douchebag wastes money on a gold elevator? Pompous, righteous assholes, that’s who.

I’ve never experienced true loathing before; however, I’m fairly certain that’s the feeling manifesting in the pit of my stomach right now for Vic’s boss.

After what feels like forever, we arrive. The doors open to a short hallway with a guard in front of the doorway at the end, a carbon copy of the two men behind me. Only Vic and I exit, getting our hands scanned before we do. This guard doesn’t acknowledge us either as we arrive at the door, but he does open it for us to enter.

The room we enter is a reception area that welcomes you in warm, rich colors of brown, red, and orange. It’s calm and quiet, the two receptionists on either side barely making any noise as they type away on their computers. Once again I think of the quiet, inconspicuous looking hippo.

Vic goes to the reception on the right while I linger by the door.

“Is he free?”

The gorgeous blonde barely glances up, “He’s finishing up with his men.”

Vic nods just as the two doors swing open and a large group of men begin exiting, some dressed like the other men I’ve seen, others dressed more casual in slacks and button up shirts with the sleeves rolled up. The men nod at Vic as they pass. Some head through the door next to the beautiful blonde’s desk, the remaining out the front door where I’m still located. I step aside to make room, going against a wall.

The last to exit is an extremely tall, muscle-packed man, with three scars going vertically down his right eye like claw marks. He takes a stance in the doorway at the sight of Vic and I watch as he turns red, clenching his jaw and fists, veins bulging from the tightness and muscles expanding from the tension. His chest falls heavily, his breathing close to that of a rabid animal.

I back further against the wall. If this is Vault I’ve made a huge mistake; this man could crush me.

“Link,” Vic addresses him as if this man isn’t turning redder and redder at the sight of him.

Link rushes forward and has Vic pinned up against a wall with his forearm, locking him in place at the neck.

I automatically step forward, knowing I can’t do anything to save Vic but my instincts want to.

“You led them to her,” the bulging lunatic snarls through his grinding jaw as he pulls out a gun and aims it at Vic’s temple, who appears bored by it all.

Vic’s demeanor acts as though they are having a casual conversation in a coffee house. “I did what I was hired to do.”

“She almost had her!” Link shouts into Vic’s face, digging the gun further into his temple.

“Hey!” I call out, coming closer.

Both heads whip in my direction.

Link aims the gun at me, “She with you?”

Vic’s features darken like a shadow cast over them. It’s the same one from earlier in his hotel room, the one that had my skin prickling in fear.

Vic’s lack of response seems to be the only confirmation Link needs, and an evil sneer curves the side of his mouth, “How about I make us even? A bullet to the head should do it.”

Link cocks the gun and I step back; he obviously wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins like I have never felt before in my life, to such a degree I fear my heart won’t be able to handle it as it beats faster than it ever has. It’s pounding out everywhere, my skin the only thing keeping it trapped inside.

Vic has his attention on Link, his features back to being calm; however, his volatile tone tells another story, “You harm her, and there won’t be a place your woman can hide, no place she can run from me. I will find her and do far worse than you could ever imagine.”

Link strays his focus from me back to Vic as he answers, the gun returning to Vic’s temple, Link’s hatred for Vic making the air heavy around us, “How about I just kill
you
then?”

Vic has leveled his tone to match his placid, impassive features, “I work for Vault now. I don’t think he’d be too happy.”

Link curses, easing off his forearm that is still pinning Vic’s neck but not fully releasing him. He gets his face right up to Vic’s, “Anything
ever
happens to her, you’ll be the first to suffer for it. Got it?” Link drops his arm and storms out, stopping briefly to point the gun once more at me and peer over his shoulder at Vic, “But not before I force you to watch me mutilate her.” Then he’s gone with a slam of the door behind him, rattling the walls.

The air quickly comes back to my lungs and I stumble back from the sudden surge of oxygen, having held my breath since the start of the encounter.

Vic moves to catch me, holding me steady. “You’re okay,” he reassures me, holding me tightly to him. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What the fuck was that?!” I cry into his arms, trying to absorb all the craziness that just happened.

Vic dismisses it like it wasn’t the most frightening thing I have ever witnessed, “Link’s always been hot tempered.”

I scoff at his response, “That was a little more than hot tempered. What did you do?”

“I found his weakness,” Vic states, as if it’s that simple and nothing that warranted such a commotion. His lack of caring or emotion about everything has me unsure if he truly feels so little, or if perhaps he’s had far too much practice. I don’t know which one makes me sadder.

“That was quite the show,” a man’s voice says from the double doors, capturing our attention. We glance over and my mouth drops open at the sight of him.

Standing there between the double doors to the office room is the most heart-stoppingly gorgeous man I have ever seen. I completely forget how to function, my brain unable to make coherent thoughts; all I can do is stare. He has piercing, clear blue eyes, a sharp jaw, and full lips that are the perfect shade of kissable pink. His darker blond hair looks to be shoulder length, but I can’t be sure as he has it pulled back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a gray, three-piece fitted suit that the tailor should be given an award for how perfectly he sculpted it to his body. This man is flawless, the kind of masculine beauty you don’t think actually exits in anything other than books.

“Benedict,” Vic acknowledges with a nod, unlatching his arm from me and stepping forward, his body now my own personal shield.

“Vicsuyan,” Benedict greets with a smile that knocks the breath out of me, his dimples practically winking at us. He comes forward, features and tone changing from friendly to formal, “I assume you’re here with answers?”

Vic meets him with the same aloofness he awards to everyone, “Yes. Shall we take this into your office?”

“Naturally.” The breathtaking male moves to allow room for Vic to enter first.

Vic steps back so we are side by side and places a hand on my lower back. This time I allow it there, drawing strength from it as he leads us through the office doors.

The doors shut behind us with a loud click that echoes through the spacious room. I quickly take in my surroundings, hoping it will give me a sense of what I’m up against. It’s an extra-large office with a window taking up the entire back wall, a massive desk in front of it. The walls are wooden, but not like the ones you would find in the seventies; they have a rich warmth to them, adding a sense of hominess to the room. On one side is a large painting that takes up most of the wall, and the other is covered in screens showing the bank and what looks like everyone closing down for the day.

Vic continues to lead me to the set of leather couches and chairs that encircle a coffee table that’s smack-dab in the middle of the office. A plush burgundy rug with gold threaded designs squares it off. The place is simple, yet welcoming.

As I take a seat in one of the leather couches with Vic by my side, the leather squeaks and suctions to my bare knees as I adjust. It’s rather unfortunate that I’ve just now taken notice of the fact that I’m still wearing my work clothes, complete with name tag.
Way to have the upper hand
. I sit straighter, determined to appear confident even if I don’t feel it.

Benedict searches me from head to toe from the other side of the coffee table, hands resting in his front pockets. “And who might you be?”

I extend a hand, trying to be as calm and collected as I can, “Freya.”

“
Freya
?” He questions in what sounds like astonishment. For a split second he looks to Vic, smile vanishing from his lips. He takes my hand, not shaking it but keeping it firmly in place, his clear blue eyes penetrating mine with curiosity, “Freya Brennan?”

I open my mouth to speak, instantly closing it when I see Vic about to do the same, and I remember his request to let him talk first.

“Yes,” Vic confirms to Benedict. Then he looks to me, “Freya, this is Benedict Cole. My employer.”

My source of gravity shifts and I lose my grounding. How could such an evil man be so gorgeous? I’m not stupid, I know history has proven that looks don’t factor into who a person is on the inside, but it seems wrong. It’s deceitful.