Uncovering You 7: Resurrection (14 page)

“So you’d rather take the word of a man you’ve known for what, a few months, over that of your own daughter?” I can hardly hide my disdain.

“No!” she screams. “No, don’t you dare go there, Lilly Ryder. Less than forty-eight hours ago I
had
no daughter to speak of. Those were the words that came from her own lips, when she left me. You think I don’t remember? I remember all too well.
‘You’re better off just pretending I’d never been born
,’ she said to me. Those were her parting words.
Your
parting words! So no, you have no right to play that card. No right at all! Conner is the only thing real and solid in my life. God! Why do you always have to butt heads with my boyfriends? So I know they’re not good enough for you. No one is, apparently, unless he’s a mega billionaire corporate mogul. Am I right? Well, I’ve got news for you, honey. Not everyone can just dazzle a man like that off his feet. Not everyone is twenty years old anymore!”

And then it hits me. Mom’s afraid. Afraid of aging. Afraid of growing old alone.

That’s why she’s blind to what’s staring her straight in the face. Not because she’s not intelligent enough to see it. But because she chooses not to.

It’s almost enough to make me forget my growing anger with her—almost…almost…

But then I snap back right into my previous mindset.

“Mom, he
robbed
me,” I emphasize. “Don’t you get it? The man you’re dating
robbed
your daughter. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Renee starts pacing the room. “Maybe if she was careless enough to get robbed,” she spits, “she deserved it.”

I take a sharp intake of breath. “What did you just say?”

“Exactly what your damn ears told you!” Mom yells. “You can’t reappear in my life and act like things are just perfect. You can’t expect me to throw everything I have away because of you. Am I glad to see you? God, yes! Have I dreamed for some sign that you’re still alive, that you still remember me? Every damn night. But you
can’t
come strolling in and assume you can tell me what to do. This is
my
life, Lilly.
Mine
! I’m not responsible for you anymore. So thank you for your judgment. But no thanks. I’ll stick to what I have. To what I know. To what’s safe.”

“So that’s it, then?” I ask softly. My emotions are winding down. All I feel is a vague emptiness growing inside. “You’ll take Conner’s word over mine? You’ll choose him over me?”

Renee turns back from the window. “He’s still out there,” she says softly. “He’s out there, waiting for me. Conner’s a good man, Lilly. I only wish you’d give him a chance.”

“HE ROBBED ME!” I explode.

Renee shakes her head. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. I’ll never know.”

She sounds sad.

“Mom, look,” I say gently, walking up to her and taking her hand. I can feel all the progress we’ve made the previous night slipping away. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose her over something as relatively miniscule—as petty—as this.

“I know you don’t want to believe it. But why would I lie? You saw how I looked when I turned up at your diner. You think I walked ten hours in the rain, in the snow, in the sleet, in the dark, just for fun?”

I shake my head. “I did it because I was determined to see you. That was the only purpose of my trip. I should be in California right now, working for Stonehart Industries. I’ll be going back tomorrow. Please, please. Don’t make this a choice for yourself between him and me. I know I’m not in your shoes. I know I have no idea what your life with Conner has been like. Maybe it’s been great. If it has, I’m happy for you. But, mom…” I take her by the shoulders and look her straight in the eyes, “You have to be honest with yourself. Keep Conner if you will. I’m not telling you to dump him. You can make your own choices. All I’m saying—all I’m begging you to do—is believe me when I say that
he
was the one who robbed me.”

Mom looks at me for a long, heartfelt moment. She puts one of her hands over mine. “Oh, honey,” she says softly. “You must really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

I shake my head. “What?”

“I know you met your father,” she says. “Why else would you come and see me? He’s the only one in the whole world—other than me—to know you’re his daughter.” She pauses as if waiting for me to agree.

“I know you avoided mentioning it. I didn’t ask. How you found out, how you found him. I didn’t ask because those things don’t matter to me. And yet… yet, you seem to want them to.”

I open my mouth to protest…and close it again.

“I’m not blind, no, not like you think. I know what you came here to do. I know you want me and Paul to get back together. I know you want the family that you think you lost.”

“What?” I sputter, taken aback. “No, mom, it’s nothing like that…”

She shakes her head. “You can’t lie to me, Lilly. I’m the same woman who changed your diapers, remember. I can see into your eyes. I know when you’re telling me the truth. I know the real reasons—your ultimate motives—for trying to show me that Conner is a bad guy.”

“There is no ulterior motive!” I spin away, disgusted by her, by me–by where this whole situation has ended up. I stalk across the room, in utter disbelief of what my mom is trying to feed me. I spin back and face her.

“Fine,” I announce. “Fine, if that’s what you really think.”

She nods her head sadly. “I do.”

“Then I won’t burden you with my presence anymore. I’ll leave, and you can go back to your fairy tale in la-la land where the men you date aren’t capable of robbing your daughter and she makes up lies just to deceive you.”

I look for my coat, find it, and grab it from the hanger.

“Nice reconnecting with you, mom,” I say, bustling past her. I open the door, letting the frigid air blow into the room. I stop and turn back. “Oh, and there’s something I didn’t tell you about, either. Something I was waiting for the right moment to do. But since I’m going, I don’t think I’ll get another chance.

“Dad? Paul? Yeah, he’s in a mental hospital. He’s insane. Just thought you should know.”

And with that, I close the door on my mother, ending a chapter that had barely begun.

Chapter Eighteen

“A c-c-collect call to Jeremy Stonehart,” I stammer, huddling into myself at the phone booth.

It’s freezing cold. The white, puffy snow is deceptive. It might look like a winter wonderland from inside. Outside it’s a killer.

It took me half an hour of wandering around to find this phone. Maybe more. I have no way of judging time, aside from how close my nose feels to freezing off.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the operator informs me, “That name’s not in the phone book. Do you have a number?”

I rattle off the digits to Jeremy’s cellphone from memory, tell the woman my name for the recording, and wait.

The seconds that pass before the phone starts ringing are the longest of my life. Calling Jeremy is admitting defeat. Admitting that he was right. But it’s my only option at this point.

The line barely has a chance to ring before I hear a click, and
his
voice.

“Lilly,” he growls. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I need help. I’m cold, lost, and alone,” I stammer.

“Good,” he barks. The venom in his voice makes me flinch. “You deserve that. It’s what you get for trying to test your limits. That’s what you were doing when you switched cars, isn’t it?”

I don’t want to fight. “Yes,” I admit in a small voice.

“And how did that work out for you?” he demands.

“Not… well,” I say. “Jeremy, please. I need your help. I’m alone by the side of a highway. It can’t be more than fifteen degrees. I’ve been robbed. I don’t have my credit card, my cell phone, my purse, anything! Please. Please, don’t be cruel. Not when I need you. Not now.”

“You admit that you made a mistake?” He sounds cold. Detached. Passionless.

“Yes!” I almost scream into the phone. “Yes, Jeremy, I do!”

“And you’re coming to me to mend things. Am I right?”

“Yes!” I say again. “Please, Jeremy, just get me out of here. Wire me some money. There’s a Western Union in a gas station nearby. I passed it earlier. I can get a cab to a hotel, room there for the night—”

“No,” he says.

My heart stops cold. “No?” I whisper.

“No, Lilly, that is not how I fix things. A black Bentley will arrive to pick you up three minutes from now. You will get in. You’ll be driven to the airfield, where my jet will be waiting for you. We will
talk
when you come home. And, Lilly?” he adds, conveying none of the satisfaction I’m sure he feels, “No detours this time. All right?”

***

As I touch down in California, I still don’t know whether to be furious, annoyed, thankful, or relieved… at Jeremy, or myself.

I should have known better than to think he’d just let me go. The speed with which the black Bentley arrived—less than five minutes—means that it’d been following me the entire time.

I checked and rechecked every seam in my jacket for a tracking device, and found none. It was the only thing to do on the six-hour flight, so I know I’d been thorough.

No, Jeremy didn’t slip another one of his little gadgets onto my person when I wasn’t looking. He’d just paid someone to keep tabs on me.

That means that when I called him, he already knew about everything that had happened. The burglary. My misguided wandering in the night. The fact that I did find my mother, and that she took me back to her home.

Damn, but thinking about that now, when I’m warm, safe, and returning to a place that I know, makes me very irritated—even though I probably have no right to be. It just feels…after the incident at the Greek restaurant, the surveillance cameras in Jeremy’s home, all the constant monitoring, anywhere I go…that I’m just bouncing around from under one microscope to another.

Maybe I should just come to grips with it. The only place I’m truly safe from monitoring now is inside Jeremy’s home. It’s ironic that that’s where things began. Now, that home–Jeremy’s mansion–is my one true sanctuary.

I climb out of the plane, half-expecting—half-hoping?—to find Jeremy waiting for me. But he’s not there. It’s Simon, Jeremy’s driver. He is leaning against the side of the limousine.

He tips his hat toward me and gives a totally inappropriate wink, then gets in. I mumble under my breath and sit in the back.

There’s a package waiting for me on the seat. I push it aside, knowing that it’s one of those double-meaning gifts from Jeremy. I’ll deal with it
after
I deal with him.

I can hear the engine running, but we’re not moving. I knock on the glass separating us. “Um, hello? Aren’t you supposed to drive me home?”

“Mr. Stonehart says you’re to open that before I do, ma’am,” Simon says, looking at me through the rear view mirror. He pauses. “I suggest that you do.”

I blink. “Excuse me? Was that a
threat
?”

“No, Miss Ryder,” Simon replies smoothly. “Nothing more than a friendly suggestion.”

I eye the closed package. It looks like I have no choice now. I’m in Jeremy’s world again, and here–contract or no–I have to abide by his rules.

“Fine,” I say. Then I add, in the most juvenile way possible, “but only because I want to.”

“Of course that’s why, Miss.”

I place the black box on my lap and tear back the wrapping. I lift the lid—and take a sharp intake of breath.

Inside the package is a cell phone.
My
cell phone, not just a replica. I can tell by the familiar scuff marks on the back. Underneath it is my wallet.

The one that had been stolen.

I pick it up and look inside. Not a single card is missing. There’s my ID, my driver’s license, the credit cards Jeremy gave me. Even the cash I kept inside!

“What the hell is this?” I mutter under my breath.

Simon chuckles. “I was told you might react that way.” He turns around in his seat, shifts gears, and starts to drive.

***

My mind races through all the possible scenarios on the way back to the mansion.

Jeremy is fucking with me. Big time. This behavior isn’t what I’d expect from him. But I could expect this from Stonehart. No problem.

I wring the hem of my jacket nervously as we get closer and closer to Stonehart’s home. I have no idea who I’ll find waiting on my arrival.

The phone… the wallet… it’s proof that the robbery wasn’t a random job. It was planned by Jeremy and executed by his thugs.

How else do I explain it? He had me watched the whole time I was away. I already know that. Maybe the burglary was his way of showing me that I could not stand on my own—that even when I’m away, my life is dictated by his desire.

I’m no more than a plaything to him. Is this what I get for not reciprocating with the “L” word when he said it to me? Or is this him re-establishing control after Fey’s revelation?

Whatever it is… wherever we stand now… it’s worse than going back to square one. No matter what freedoms were granted with the burning of the contract, I am still very much under his control. Every day.

Is this the type of thing that keeps Rose close to him? She is a free woman, of her own admission. Yet Stonehart commands enough power over her to make her obey him completely.

The limo pulls up in front of the mansion. The lights inside are on. That means Jeremy is home… waiting for me.

Simon opens my door. “A pleasure seeing you again, Ma’am,” he says.

I brush past him. In one hand, I have my cell phone. In the other, my wallet. They are the only two possessions I have left from the trip…and I didn’t even know they came back with me.

It had to have been a set-up. It
had
to have been. Much like the incident with Hugh, and the resulting video feed. At the office building, Jeremy either hired actors, or used CGI to alter the tape, or…something.

I don’t know
why
, either. That frightens me most. I’m about to enter the lair of a veritable monster—and I’m doing so willingly.