Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (29 page)

When I finally regained consciousness, the first face I saw was Samantha’s. I knew without having to ask that she’d barely left my bedside. She looked tired, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, but I’d never seen a more beautiful sight. I remember watching her, wondering what she was thinking about that made her look so utterly defeated and devastated. I’d reached out to touch her hand, which had been resting on my mattress. The look of shock when she realized was almost amusing until she threw herself against my uninjured side and began sobbing uncontrollably. I’ll never be able to tell her how much it meant to me that she was at my side all throughout my recovery. Even on the days when I wanted to give up and resign myself to the fact that my shoulder would never be the same, even when I lashed out at her because I was frustrated with how long it was taking to get back to normal. There were days when I was a downright dick to her and she still stayed.

It wasn’t until I returned to work that I started to wonder why she put up with me and my never-ending bullshit. She never asked to watch her husband suffer through months of painful physical therapy that left him hurting, angry, and frustrated. She never signed on to share the dangers of my life. And our son... the thought of something happening to him was overwhelming and I knew I had to give Samantha a chance to live her life without constant fear. To my own devastation, she took the option of leaving. I know it hurt her as much as it hurt me for her to walk away from our marriage, but it was her choice. I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting her leave, even after telling her I’d respect her decision. I fell into my default mode of keeping my mind occupied, doing what needed to be done. I had the divorce papers drawn up along with a letter that explained to her I would remain out of her life unless she ever needed absolutely anything, she or Tyler, or if there was ever any danger that directly affected them. She never responded to that letter and I took that to mean she accepted my terms.

Shaking myself back into reality, I glance over my shoulder as I make my way through the dark underground corridors beneath my building to confirm that I correctly disengaged the tunnel’s security system. It’s nearing 3AM and the building should be clear aside from a few of the security guards, none of whom are aware of the existence of the tunnels. Only a handful of people know about them and I’m suddenly glad I kept it that way. Technically, I could rightfully walk through the front door, but considering my current status, that’s probably not a good idea.

Instead I pull open a door to a closet that is no wider than the narrow ladder that occupies it. I close myself in and begin climbing until I reach the trapdoor. After taking a few minutes to listen for anybody in my office, I slowly push open the door and continue climbing up, listening for the soft click of my office door locking itself—another security feature I never thought I’d have to use.

Nothing’s changed since I was last here. My inbox is still overflowing. There are still glasses mostly emptied of bourbon on my desk. And the files I need are still in my desk drawer. Sitting down behind my desk, I hit the tiny button installed beside my right knee and watch the clear windows turn opaque to ensure any passersby have to actually open the door to know I’m here. I fire up my laptop and while it boots, I go through the documents I came for. It contains everything we learned about the Russians and I’m hoping to find some link between them and whoever has been leaking information from inside my circle. I’ve got phone records, photos, license plate numbers, bank account information... Once it’s all handed over to the proper authorities, I can start making sense of everything.

I quickly scan through my emails, but nothing catches my eye. I remove the flash drive I brought along with me, plug it into the computer, and download everything I might need onto it. With that business taken care of, I hesitate to leave without doing one final thing. I’ve got about half an hour before security starts checking this floor of the building and I might as well take advantage of that.

Before I can change my mind, I start a program that allows me to view the surveillance cameras in my home. It’s understandably dark and quiet, and I know I shouldn’t feel disappointed by the lack of activity, but I do. All I want is once glance of Samantha and Tyler, just so I know they’re where they belong and safe until I can be with them again. With a few clicks of the mouse, I switch between the views of the camera. The front gate. The front door. The formal living room, kitchen, and dining room. The baseme
nt. Upstairs hallways. The backdoor. The dock where my boat is tied.

The only thing that seems out of place is when I spot Leo sitting on the deck of the guest house, staring at the main house as he smokes a cigarette. I know immediately he’s reverted back to the days after he returned from overseas when he didn’t sleep; all he did for weeks was sit around in the middle of the night smoking and drinking. It took an intervention on my part to snap him out of that depression.

The motion-activated cameras in the house automatically switch views when someone walks past them and I feel myself smiling to find Samantha stumbling half-asleep towards the staircase. For a moment, I’m thrown off, since it looks as though she came out of the guest bedroom rather than mine like I expected. Rolling my eyes at myself I come to the conclusion that she can’t bear to sleep there without me. Hell, I did the same thing after she left.

With every sensor she trips as she makes her way down to the kitchen, the camera feed changes. She switches on a light and gets a glass of water, then leans against the kitchen counter. Even through video, I can see what this entire situation has done to her. I’m almost sorry Saunders left the way he did. Of course I hadn’t foreseen this outcome when I sent him packing to Omaha before sending Samantha and Ty to my sister’s, but at least at this point, she’d be with someone who loves her and would take care of her. And despite my feelings towards Tom Saunders, I believe he really loved her. I’m glad for that. It shows me she’s been taken care of over the last five years when I couldn’t be there for her. Though admittedly, every time I think of them together, and everything I heard the night I kissed her in my office, I’m filled with a jealous rage. Then I remind myself she never once faked an orgasm with me and Tom must be fucking clueless if he hadn’t realized that’s what she’d done. Either that or he’s just never pleased her.

I smirk proudly at the thought. When this is over, Samantha will never have to consider faking it for the rest of her life. I’ll make sure of that...

Movement at the corner of the screen catches my eye and I see Leo enter the picture. I assume he saw the light in the kitchen and came up to see if everything was okay. Samantha nods and mouths a response—since the cameras only record video, I don’t know what she’s saying—and Leo smiles knowingly before sitting across from her at the kitchen table. One of the last things I said to him before I left to meet my plane leaving Russia was to take care of Samantha and Tyler. He’s the only person I trust with them and I know he’ll protect them with his life.

There’s a sound outside my office door and my head snaps up. Security is doing their rounds. I can see the dulled lights of their flashlights and I have no doubt they’ll notice the oddity of my windows having changed color. Quickly, I gather up the files, loose documents, and my flash drive, stuffing all of it unceremoniously into the laptop bag I stow beneath my desk. As much as I’d prefer to just shove the laptop itself into my bag, I can’t risk it. It’ll take security ages to realize the files I’ve taken are gone, but only a second to notice a missing laptop. Just as I finish, there’s a rattling at the door—someone’s testing the doorknob. I hear a muffled voice say the door is locked before the security guard turns and walks away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I think I’ve managed to avoid a real issue. That is until I look back at my computer screen to see Leo on his feet, his phone pressed to his ear as he seemingly barks orders to whomever he’s speaking, gesticulating in a way that has Sam frozen to the spot and staring at Leo with her jaw dropped. There are more voices outside my office, all of them moving closer, and I realize the security guard who tested the doorknob contacted Leo.

“Fuck,” I bite out, quickly closing out all the programs I opened and wiping the history to make it seem as though the laptop hadn’t been used in weeks. Without hesitation, I drop down below the desk, open the trapdoor again, toss the laptop bag down into the dark, and slide myself into the opening before reaching up to hit the button that will unlock the door. Hopefully they’ll think there was a malfunction with the door locks. The moment I hear the almost inaudible click of the lock retreating, I press the button to return the windows to their normal state and slide a little further down the hole, pulling the door down with me so I can still hear what’s going on in my office.

The door bursts open and I close the door completely, my ear pressed against it as several pairs of footsteps enter.

I climb down the ladder until I reach the ground and feel around for my laptop bag. There’s no doubt in my mind that Leo had been contacted, apprised of the situation, and will very shortly be arriving at Young Technologies to help with whatever investigation is about to take place. And since he is one of the very few people aware of the existence of both the tunnels and the trapdoor beneath my desk, I need to make my escape quick. I can’t yet risk anybody knowing the truth. Not even my best friend.

The last several days have been hectic to say the very least. A few nights ago, at some point approaching 3AM, when I stumbled down to the kitchen for a drink of water and Leo came to check on me, he received a phone call that immediately had him on edge. I didn’t even have a chance to ask him what was going on before he’d called three other people and was backing his car out of the driveway. When he got back in the mid-morning, I didn’t let him out of my sight before he gave me a very reluctant explanation. And I wished I hadn’t asked.

Somebody has broken into Young Technologies. Worse than that, somebody broke into Matthew’s office specifically. From what Leo learned, the intruder had no interest in visiting any other part of the building and they were still working on what it is the intruder was after. The only fingerprints to be found belong to Matthew or faded ones left by the people who he’d come into contact with the last time he was there. I’m not sure why this has hit me so hard; Leo said he was surprised it had taken someone this long to pull something like this and it seems par for the course that somebody is going to try to get their hands on everything that was once Matthew’s. I suppose it’s just the idea that a place Matthew once considered his second home has been violated along with the memories I have of the place. I can’t say how many times I joined him in his office for lunch. Or how many times those innocent lunch dates turned into something much less innocent...

Though Matthew had given me a tour of his building the first time I visited, there were still parts of it I wasn’t allowed to see. And I understood why he couldn’t share every bit of the company with me; only a handful of people had the security clearance to know of the existence of some of those departments. There were times Matthew had been stuck at work for days because he couldn’t risk leaving whatever top secret project he was working on. I tried to understand the seriousness of Matthew’s job but I don’t think I really did until the first time he came home in the middle of a day in a rush and very calmly told me to pack a bag, that we were going away for a couple days. That was the first time I really realized Leo’s role in Matthew’s life. Aside from being his best friend, Leo was head of Matthew’s security and he took that role incredibly seriously. Maybe it was me being a wide-eyed farm girl who still believed there was more good in the world than bad, but I honestly never really noticed the amount of security personnel or procedures that directed our lives. I remember mentioning this to Matthew and how he’d smiled sadly at me, telling me it had been his intention that I never be aware of the dangers that surrounded us. And he was just sorry it was making such a sudden appearance in my life.

The reason we had taken that impromptu vacation was because Matthew had had the audacity to sell a piece of technology to the United States government as opposed to a group outside the country. He never gave me details. I don’t know who was involved. I don’t even know what the threat specifically entailed. All he would tell me was that I was safe with him and he would make sure that never changed.

That was when I realized the risks I was taking being involved with Matthew. There were constant threats, most of them empty, that he never told me about. He didn’t have to; I’d gotten to know him well enough to notice the changes in his mood when he was worried about something. Instead of the playful, funny, flirty man I’d fallen in love with, I was faced with a quiet, broody, short-tempered man completely on edge. I learned quickly to leave him alone for a few hours to let him work out his stress in the home gym or with his personal trainer or working in his office, and he’d be
my
Matthew again.

Aside from the threats, our life was seemingly perfect. He took me to places I’d only ever dreamed about—England, France, Italy, Australia, and anywhere else I mentioned in passing having an interest in seeing. To my annoyance, he showered me with gifts whenever he had the chance. At first I resented the gifts, feeling as though he was giving me something I couldn’t return. Over and over he told me I’d given him exactly what he wanted from me and no amount of jewelry or clothing or whatever else he gave me could ever match up to that. Whenever I asked him what it was I’d given him, he’d only smile and kiss me, then change the subject.

Eventually I learned just to go along with whatever he had planned. And it was great. I never saw us breaking up, only getting closer as the years went by. And right now, I’d give anything to have those moments back.

A few days after the break-in at Young Technologies, I found my own distraction in the form of starting my new job. I hadn’t known what to expect working as an office manager for a travel agency. I couldn’t imagine many of the Santa Clara residents in need of such services and envisioned myself sitting around the office for most of the day twiddling my thumbs. Luckily, I was wrong. While there wasn’t a lot of local business yet—Frank assured me business would pick up in October—apparently this little travel agency garnered business from surrounding cities. The phones rang for most of the day. Clients came and went. And I had my work cut out for me.

I like my job. It keeps me occupied and focused, it gives me purpose. I even like my boss, Frank. Admittedly when I first met him, he made me a little uneasy and I had concerns about whether he would start trying to hit on me. So far, that’s not the case. He’s friendly, funny, and I can see us becoming friends. That’s fine by me. I’m not looking for anything more and judging by what little I’ve learned about him, neither is he.

The only odd thing about my workplace life is the level of security. Aside from the camera I noticed the day I met Frank, there are others throughout the office and a few doors that remain locked at all times. Leo told me Frank used to work with Matthew and though he had separated himself from Matthew, he still felt the need to keep his eyes open at all times. It left me feeling uneasy at times, knowing my every move was documented, but knowing what Matthew used to deal with on a daily basis, these security measures were tame. I soothed my paranoia by reminding myself it was none of my business and as long as I stayed out of it, I had nothing to worry about.

At the end of my first week, I have plans to spend the weekend with my son. Claire has even threatened a visit. It all feels very normal at a time that I don’t really remember when I last
felt
normal. I pick Tyler up from school and on the drive home I grin as he tells me about his day, what he did, what he learned, and about the friends he made. Knowing my son is happy does wonders for my own mood. It’s not until we pull into the driveway that my good mood turns sour.

Leo is standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the front door, his arms crossed. Parked directly in front of the garage is a car I faintly recognize and I feel my stomach sink at the implication.

“Ty, stay here a moment,” I tell my son, unbuckling and getting out of the car to approach Leo. “What’s going on?”

Leo sighs, running a hand through his blond hair. “Matt’s dad is here,” he tells me quietly. “I tried to tell him you were at work and I didn’t know when you’d be back, but he insisted on waiting.”

I blink rapidly in surprise. “He wants to see me?” I ask in disbelief.

Nodding, Leo’s mouth turns into a thin line. “Apparently. I thought maybe he was coming in to get something of Matt’s, but no... if you want, I can get him out somehow.”

I shake my head, resolving myself to a confrontation that should have happened years ago. “No, it’s fine,” I tell him. “I can handle it.”

Leo looks skeptical. “Do you want me to hang around?”

Again, I shake my head. “Thanks, but no. Though if you can get Tyler out of the car and take him out back to play or something, I’d really appreciate it.”

“You got it,” Leo tells me, squeezing my shoulder as he passes me on his way to retrieve my son.

Sighing heavily, I head up the stairs, trying to figure out what Paul Young could possibly want with me. I have no doubt this is far from a social how-are-you-settling-in visit. As I search the house for my unwanted guest, I prepare myself for whatever he might throw at me. He’s never hidden his dislike of me. The fact that he told his oldest two daughters that the reason I left Matthew was that he’d bought me off shows just how much he wanted me out of his family’s life. It didn’t escape my notice that, until very recently, Claire wasn’t aware of the lie. If she had been, she would have gone straight to Matthew with it, who would have gone straight to his father and confronted him, then he would have chased me down with the belief that the real reason I left was because his father made me feel unworthy of him. Which he had. But I’m not about to let Paul know that.

I stop just outside Matthew’s home office, a place I haven’t entered since the last time I was here with Matthew and Tom. Paul is standing in front of the aquarium, and I realize with a pang I haven’t even been in here to feed the fish. Clearly they’re all still alive, so I think Leo has been taking care of them for me. His back is to me and every so often I see him lift a glass tumbler half-filled with amber liquid to his lips.

“I’d offer you a drink,” I say bravely, “but it seems you’ve helped yourself.”

Paul whirls around to face me, his thoughtful expression changing immediately into a scowl I’m pretty certain he reserves specifically for me. “If a man can’t make himself comfortable in his
son’s
home...” he responds quietly. I don’t miss the subtle hint that he doesn’t believe I belong here and that this will never be my home if he has his way.

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Young? I need to made dinner for
my
son,” I shoot back. As much as I want to irritate him by using his first name during our conversation, I figure the only way to get rid of him without causing a scene will be to remain pleasant with him.

“What are you doing here, Samantha?” he asks me bluntly. “I thought we settled all this five years ago?”

And there it is. “What exactly did we settle?” I ask quietly, entering the room more fully. “Because my memory is that you blindsided me while my husband was hanging onto life by a thread by telling me I didn’t deserve him and how it was my fault he was there in the first place because he was too distracted by me and
his son
that he wasn’t paying attention to the security of his building.
Then
you tried to convince me I needed to leave Matthew and give him full custody of
our
son, because what kind of life could I provide him when I grew up surrounded by cow shit? And when that didn’t get you your way, you offered me half a million dollars to leave and never look back. I don’t know what you think you were trying to achieve with that other than never having to deal with me again. You don’t have to like me. I came to terms with that years ago. But when I was with Matthew, it was because I loved him as much as he loved me. I never wanted him for any other reason. And it says a lot more about you than it does me that you would go to such lengths to break apart your son’s marriage and destroy his happiness because you don’t believe he made the right romantic choice. You’d rather he stay with someone who cheated on him and broke his heart completely, because she was a better fit image-wise.”

“How dare you!” he snarls, setting down his glass so forcefully against Matthew’s desk that I expect it to shatter. “You think I didn’t want to see my son happy? I spent my entire life trying to make that boy happy. He was successful beyond anyone’s imagination. He could have had any woman in the world. The only one he wanted was Lucy. They would have worked out their problems if you hadn’t come along.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I didn’t even come into his life until
six years
after he broke up with Lucy! Are you really telling me Matt was happy after I left? That having me out of his life somehow made it better?” I paused for a few moments until Paul’s eyes darted away very briefly, then nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought. Where you were convinced he’d be happier without me, he was more miserable. I may not have taken your money, but you put enough doubt in my head about whether or not you were right that I thought it myself. You can say what you want about me and believe what you want, but don’t you ever think Matthew wasn’t everything to me.”

“You kept his son from him.”

I feel my hands start to shake, my vision becoming limited and I know I’m moments away from losing my temper completely. I want to argue, but I know anything I say will be wrong. There is no justifying keeping Matthew and his son apart for so long. If I’d known how things would end for Matthew, I would have rectified the situation. It’s the one regret I have in my life, even overshadowing leaving Matthew at all.

“You can act all high and mighty as much as you want to, Samantha,” Paul tells me in a deathly quiet voice, “but when it comes down to it, as much as you claim to love Matthew, you’re the one who broke his heart by taking away his son.”

“Fuck you,” I hear myself say. “I don’t have to defend my actions to you or anybody else. You have no room to judge me for anything I’ve done, least of all for leaving Matthew. It’s what you wanted; you should have been happy.”

“I didn’t come here to argue with you over the past,” he says harshly. “You don’t belong here. You never did. I don’t give a damn what Matthew’s final wishes were; I will have you out of this house. I just thought I’d give you a bit of warning not to get too comfortable.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him quietly. “I’m here because it’s what Matt wanted and I won’t stomp on his grave by going against his wishes. If you don’t like it, get out and don’t come back.”