Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (24 page)

Elliot rolled his eyes and came inside, letting the door shut behind him. After he hung up his parka, he glanced around the store. The store was empty. Normally, he hated that, but just then, he was just fine with it, because he was not in the mood to see anybody, except Shay. “You okay if I go take a shower, grab a bite?”

If he could eke out a few more minutes, he might even send out a few emails, check with those friends of his.
All he wanted to do was see if this Darcy chick or Shane or whoever in the fuck she was had contact with anybody besides him. It wouldn’t take long.

Of course, judging by the look in his sister’s eyes, she wasn’t going to give him time to
breathe
, much less shower and send out emails.

“She such a party animal you couldn’t eat all night?” Lorna grinned at him, a sly look in her eyes.

Under any other circumstances, it would have just made him shake his head.

But these weren’t normal circumstances. And all of a sudden, it dropped down on him. The weight he’d been trying to ignore, the rage he’d been fighting to hold back.

All of it hit him and it was now crushing him.

Closing his eyes, he said, “Lorna … don’t. Okay?”

“Hey … is everything okay?” Lorna cocked her head, studying him.

She must have seen something in his eyes, heard it in his voice. “Oh, shit, Elliot, don’t tell me you two fought already.”

“No.” He gave her a tired smile. “No, it’s not that. I think …”

Memories of the scars flashed through his mind, and abruptly, the fury he’d been holding in check exploded.
“Fuck.”
He slammed his fist down on the counter, but it didn’t do a damn thing to expel the rage he had trapped inside him.

“Whoa …” Lorna moved around the counter and rushed to the front door. She locked it and flipped the
Be Back Soon
sign over, then came to him. With the bravery only siblings can possess, she grabbed his arm and started to pull on him.

“Leave me alone now, Lorna—you want to leave me alone.”
Leave me alone so I can fall apart. Explode
. Something—

“No, I want to kick your ass the way I did when we were kids, but you had to go and grow a foot and a half taller and join the military,” she snapped. “But I can kick you in the balls and I remember most of the dirty tricks Paul taught me, so I can still hurt you.”

“Lorna …”

But he was too tired to fight her. Fighting his fury was draining. It didn’t help that every time he closed his eyes, he saw those scars. Those awful scars. How could somebody do that—

Stop it
, he told himself. Not now. He had to get a grip on this fury because if he didn’t, he was going to find himself on a flight to Phoenix, where he’d be hunting that son of a bitch down and killing him.

Slow.

And then he’d end up with his ass in jail and he wouldn’t be able to be with Shay.

Sometimes, subtlety wasn’t his strong point.

So because Shay mattered, he had to get this fury under wraps. Had to.

He let Lorna take him to the office and he threw himself down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that burned while the acid of his rage ate a hole inside him.

“What’s wrong, El?” Lorna asked softly.

“I can’t talk about it.” He shook his head. Those were Shay’s secrets, and he’d be damned if he broke that confidence.

“How much of this has to do with Shay being Shane Neil?” Lorna asked quietly.

Elliot shot her a look.

She arched a brow. “Hey, what am I, stupid? You beat it out of here like a bat out of hell, and then a couple of hours later, call me from her place. She up and buys all of the signed books, she takes the ARC, the bizarre message pops up … and you
believed
it. You wouldn’t
have bought it from just anybody, you know. It’s the only thing that made sense.”

“Shit.” He covered his face with his hands. “Don’t go mentioning it to people, Lorna. And I mean
to anybody
—not even your boyfriend. She keeps it quiet for a reason.”

“I kind of figured that out already. Otherwise, she would have told you ages ago.” She leaned against the desk, watching him. “You’re not mad at her about this, are you? I mean, she had to have her reasons.”

“I’m not mad at Shay,” he said quietly. His heart was fucking breaking for her, but he wasn’t mad.

She blew out a breath and shoved a hand through her red hair. “Damn it, is everything okay with you two? I mean, I keep hoping it will work with you. I see how—”

“We’re fine. I broke it off because she kept pulling back and I couldn’t keep falling harder and harder for a woman who held me at arm’s length.” Closing his eyes, he said, “She’s not doing that anymore.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Slowly, he sat up, opening his eyes to stare at her. Easier, he thought, to look at her, look at anything. When he closed his eyes, he kept seeing those scars, what had been done to Shay and how she must have suffered; and he remembered how they’d let that bastard out.
Why?
He’d served his time?

Fuck
.

Reaching for one of the worn pillows on the couch, he shook his head. “You know that saying … be careful what you wish for? I got what I wished for. She was always so closed off, wouldn’t open up to me, wouldn’t trust me. Things changed. I want her, I always have. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle everything I’ll have to handle now.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Those are her secrets, sis. Goes a
lot deeper than her Batman writing persona thing, too.” Twisting the pillow in his hands, he wished he could just tear it apart—tear
anything
apart. It might help lessen the rage. Maybe.

Feeling the weight of his sister’s gaze, he looked up.

“So it’s her burden … one she chose to share with you,” Lorna said slowly. “I think that means you’re already strong enough. She’s cautious for a reason, El. You and I both figured that out awhile ago. Don’t sell yourself short; don’t go doubting yourself already.”

She came over and bent down, pecked his cheek. “It will be okay.”

Then she left.

Elliot was alone with nothing but his rage and the memories of scars he couldn’t heal.

Her gut was in knots.

The day had come with good news and bad news. Twitter and Facebook were down. An hour after they’d gone down, she’d heard from Goodreads.
That
page was down, too.

Finally. Progress … on one front.

She’d left message after message at her agent’s office, and now it was almost four o’clock New York time. If she didn’t hear something soon, it would be tomorrow at the earliest before she heard
anything
.

Then the phone rang, and
yes
. It was the agency.

But not Anna … it was Trish, Anna’s assistant.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan, but she’s not available to return your calls at this time.”

“What do you mean, she’s not available to return my calls?” Shay asked, her voice shaking. She hated the sound of that. One of the few people she’d been counting on, and Anna wouldn’t
talk
to her?
Fuck
, what was she supposed to do now? And damn it, why wouldn’t Anna talk to her?

That ugly monster of paranoia grew another ten or twenty feet, at least.

“She’s just not available to nonclients right now. Ms. Kent is extremely busy. I’ll take your information and if she has time—”

For a moment, the words just didn’t connect in her brain—she’d
heard
them and she knew what Trish had said. The words just
didn’t make sense
. But once they made sense, panic wrapped its tight, slimy fist around Shay’s gut and the words exploded from her in a hot, uncontrolled rush.

“What do you mean,
non
client? Trish, she’s my damn agent!” Shay squeezed her eyes closed.

“No. She’s not.” There was a brief pause, and then the assistant said softly, “You ended the relationship between you and Ms. Kent nearly four months ago.”

Ended the relationship
.

All the strength drained out of her legs and she sagged against the nearest upright surface. It happened to be the bar. Convenient, that.

She reached for the nearest bottle of liquor. It happened to be rum. Even more convenient. Rum might just help her get through this.

She splashed some into a glass and hoped her legs would be steady enough to carry her into the kitchen so she could get some Diet Coke. She needed a fucking drink
now
.

“Ended the relationship …” she echoed. “No, I sure as hell did not.”

“Ms. Morgan, you did.”

As pain started to pulse once more in the back of her skull, Shay shoved off the bar and started for the kitchen. “Exactly
who
says I ended the relationship?”

“Your email to Ms. Kent, if I recall correctly. There was an attachment, a PDF with your signature on it, stating that while you’d enjoyed the arrangement you
had, it was time that you branched in a different direction. There’s a copy of both the letter and the email in your file. Would you like me to forward it to you?”

“Yes.” She just barely managed to keep from growling the word. Anger gave her the strength she needed to get into the kitchen, though. Diet Coke in hand, she splashed some into the glass and then tossed back half of the drink. “I also want to know
what
email address it came from, when it was dated, and why Anna didn’t call me to discuss this, because I damn well didn’t
send
it and if she’d called me, I could have told her that.”

“I believe she did call. You never returned her calls.”

Shay took another gulp. Ever since Elliot had left, a malicious, nasty headache had been brewing in the back of her head; now it struggled to break free of its chain. She knew if it got the better of her, it would be taking gleeful, happy bites out of her brain matter and she’d be lucky if she didn’t end up puking her guts out.

A migraine—just wonderful. On top of everything else.

“I never received any calls,” she said quietly. “Not one.”

“I don’t see how, Ms. Morgan. I called you three times myself.”

Setting the glass down, she pressed her fist to her brow. Then she took a deep breath. She needed to get Anna on the phone. Somehow. Anna knew her. Knew she wasn’t a ditz, knew she wasn’t crazy—or too crazy, anyway. But she wasn’t going to get Anna on the phone if she was mean to the assistant on the phone now.

“Can I ask you a favor, Trish? What number did you call?”

She heard a faint sigh across the line. “Ms. Morgan—”

“Shay. And please. Humor me. Something seriously fu—ah, really weird is going on. Just help me out a minute
more. Did you call me at this number? Or a different one?”

“Hmm. No. Actually, I was surprised that you’d called from this number … we received an email last summer that you’d changed your home number.” She recited a number that wasn’t familiar to Shay.

She jotted it down and she’d damn well be calling it, but it wasn’t
her
number. “That’s not my number, Trish. I don’t know
who
that number belongs to, but it isn’t me.”

This time, there was just silence on the phone. After ten seconds of it, Shay said, “When you couldn’t get hold of me on that line, did anybody call my cell? Anna had the number.”

“We were given a new cell phone number as well. I believe it was the same area code as the other number, but I’d have to check my records to be sure.”

A humorless laugh escaped Shay. “A new cell. How come I’m
not
surprised …” She stared at the number she’d written down. “Can you get me that number?”

“Ah, perhaps I should speak to Ms. Kent …”

“Yeah. You do that, and when you do, tell her I’d like to speak with
my agent
. At
this
number. No matter what you get via email, don’t change the number you have on file for me unless I call you from
this
number and ask you to change it.” She gave her the right number and then asked, “Any idea when I can expect to hear from her?”

“Well, it could be a couple of weeks.” Trish’s voice had more warmth to it, maybe even a hint of an apology. “She’s in Europe for one of the big conferences she attends every year.”

“Great.”

“She calls a couple of times a week. I just spoke with her yesterday so I’m not expecting to hear from her for a few days, but I do have a number to contact her for
emergencies. I’ll contact her, let her know there was some sort of misunderstanding.”

“This isn’t a misunderstanding, Trish. That email you have is a fake and the agency accepted it, without even talking to me.” She shouldn’t have said that—things were bad enough without putting anybody on the defensive. But damn it,
she
was on the defensive now. “Please, if you can get Anna to call me, I’d appreciate it.”

She forced herself to smile, although she doubted it would show in her voice. “She’s the only agent I’ve ever worked with. I can’t imagine working with anyone else.”

“I’ll pass it on.” Trish hesitated for a moment and then added, “I know she was really upset when she got the letter. If you didn’t send it … well, do you know who did?”

“Possibly, although I can’t be absolutely certain. I can say that it’s probably part of the problem I need to discuss with Anna, though. I also need to see that letter.”

“I’ll do what I can. I have that cell phone number.” Trish gave her the number and Shay jotted it down as well.

“I’ll have Anna get in touch with you as quickly as I can,” Trish promised.

“Thank you.” Shay wrapped up the conversation, and although Trish didn’t outright say it, she had a feeling she’d be getting a copy of that email shortly. Good. Bits and pieces of information—it was more than she’d had earlier in the day. Staring at the phone number she held, she took a deep breath.

Then she dialed the number—a home phone, she thought. Anchorage area, she thought.

Her breath gusted out of her when she received the disconnect message.

“Son of a
bitch
!” She slammed the phone on the counter, fury tightening her muscles until she was shaking.
Adrenaline crashed through her body, and with it came much-needed strength.