Page 71 of Reckless Seduction
“Apparently mine,” I say. “When I called my boss to check in and apologize for being MIA, he said I had submitted my resignation last week, but I never did.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I assure him. “I was in Oregon last week, working on a cold case that had links back to one of the Capitol Hill murders. Plus, he said it was emailed, and I haven’t had access to my company email for over two weeks due to a security error.”
“Why would someone submit a resignation on your behalf?” he wonders. “Could it be your father?”
I shrug. “Maybe, but why wouldn’t he just tell me? I’d argue, but in the end, I would have no other recourse than to obey him. Otherwise…” He already knows what will happen. I have told him what my father does when I refuse to obey.
“I’m wondering if whoever tampered with your spark plugs is the same person who submitted your resignation.”
What?
“My spark plugs?”
Liam groans. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”
“Tell me what?”
“Shit.” Another groan. “The reason your car broke down in that parking lot is because one of your spark plugs was faulty.”
“That’s impossible,” I tell him, anxiety welling inside me like a hot-air balloon. “I just had my car serviced before I drove to Oregon.”
“I’m not sure what to tell you, Bailey,” he says. “But someone out there is trying to move you around like a piece on a chessboard. If I were you, I would watch your back.”
There is an eerie truth to Liam’s words. I am being manipulated, and I doubt that these two incidents are isolated. Whoever is doing this wants something from me, but what? What does anyone have to gain from putting in a resignation letter on my behalf? They must have known that sooner or later, I would find out about it.
Unless whoever did it didn’t plan on me being able to refute the letter.
I think back to what Liam says about my spark plugs. The mechanic at my local dealer changed them before I left for Oregon. The man is an old friend of mine, which likely means that it isn’t him. Carlos is too good a guy for that.
So somewhere on my journey to Oregon and back, someone switched one out. But when? And why?
If I were you, I’d watch your back.
Liam is right.
No one can be trusted.
Certainly not him.
Not even the twins.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The house fellsilent not long after I retired to my room. Most of the staff live off the property except for Carson, the butler, and the head of the house, Maria. Father has very few guards posted inside the house, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any at all. There are also the cameras to worry about. None of them are in the same hallway as his office. I realize now that it is no doubt because he doesn’t want anyone to see who is coming or going.
Or the damage he is inflicting.
My sweaty hand reaches out and grips the door handle, turning it slowly, quietly. The corridor is silent, eerily so in this big house. My feet are bare. The old wood floor often creaks, and I want to remain as stealthy as possible.
The pulse of my heartbeat patters an unrelenting drumbeat against my rib cage, threatening to burst through my chest. My breaths come in shallow, quiet rasps. Cold sweat washes down the back of my neck and clings to the collar of my pajama shirt.
I am a wreck. What the hell am I doing pretending to be some kind of spy? I have no idea in hell what I am doing, but still, I press on. Not because of the promise I have made to the twins, but because I need to know what kind of man myfather truly is. Doubt has wiggled itself underneath my skin, causing a persistent itch. My father isn’t who he says he is. He has never been very caring toward me, but I have always taken his punishments without complaint, believing I deserved them somehow.
What your father did is never okay, whether you did something wrong or not.
Those words still ring in my head. I’ve never thought of what my father did as wrong. Simply harsh, but I’ve been told my entire life that I was deserving of it. That it was necessary. But the more I think back on the times my father ordered my discipline, he never once told me what I’d done wrong.
