Chapter 7
Zane
After the last fight I’d had with Samantha, when she’d informed me that she’d not only confronted Crystal – thinking she was Kathryn – but that she’d been draining my club income away with her illegal schemes, Sam had stopped policing me so carefully. I had a feeling she was still watching, but at least I’d hightailed it out of there fast enough that she couldn’t follow me to Kathryn’s apartment.
Not that going over there had done me any good at all. I’d basically damned myself with the visit through my network of lies and a couple of careless mistakes.
But Sam no longer insisted on driving me to and from the club, and that gave me the freedom to come and go as I pleased. It didn’t matter as much now, since I didn’t have anywhere to go but the club and the bar, but I was making my own decisions. And that meant that, Tuesday afternoon, when I’d finally hired two new bartenders, gotten delivery schedules back in order, and delegated responsibilities for my manager to take care of, I managed to leave the club early and get home a couple of hours before Sam arrived.
She spent Tuesday afternoons with some sort of social group and never got home until after six, usually pretty tipsy by the time she got home. It was all for appearance, mostly for her father’s benefit so she was seen in public with noteworthy individuals, but it gave me the time I needed to get back up to her office and look around. I was more determined than ever to out Sam, since I knew that was the only way I was ever going to get Kathryn back. And that might not even be good enough.
Either way, I had to have my freedom sooner than later, or I was going to snap.
I stood in the doorway, staring into the dark room and willing it to give me some hint, some clue as to what I could use to prove Sam was a liar, cheater, and criminal. Finally, I turned on the light and stepped inside. I tried to think like Sam. If I were her, where would I hide records of illegal transactions?
I decided to search the office. This time, I was looking for a safe she might have hidden, or maybe a false bottom to one of her desk drawers. I’d even check the books on the shelves, in case one of them was hollow and held the information I needed. It was over the top, but that was Sam’s style.
I started with the shelves. I felt behind every book and moved things around in search of a hatch or a hidden lock box. Anything that suggested secrets and lies. I noticed a jewelry box on top of the highest shelf and stretched for it. This was a strange place to keep jewelry, and I was certain I’d struck gold.
But when I opened it, all I found was some Faberge jewelry that must have cost a fortune or two, and it just made me angrier. More of the money I’d been putting into our account, wasted. What made her think she could control me, and then turn around and use my money for her crazy investments? And then to lose it all, on top of practically stealing it out of my pocket?
I felt the bottom of the box, just in case I could peel up the felt and discover exactly what I needed, but I didn’t find anything. The only other place besides the office that she might have hidden anything was the bedroom, and I didn’t want to go in there if I could help it.
There were a few places left to check, and as I searched in the desk drawers, looking for a secret cubby of some kind, I was ready to give up for the day. All I managed to do was knock the bottom drawer on the right off track. It didn’t want to slide back into place easily, and I cursed at it. I had to get down on my knees to line it up and knock it back where it belonged.
I inspected it to make sure I hadn’t damaged it or left any sign I’d been in here, and my eyes fell on something on the underside of Sam’s desk. I scowled, having trouble seeing what it was. There wasn’t enough light in this room to start with, and it was dark as a dungeon under the hefty desk. I crawled a little further under, trying not to bump my head or scratch myself in the tight space.
It looked like some sort of book, and it was taped underneath. Could this be her records? Had she recorded everything in here? Or maybe it was a diary. I couldn’t imagine Sam keeping a journal. It would take up too much time, and she wasn’t one for sentimentality. But you never knew, and maybe I could at least find confessions of adultery and cheating the stock market if she had a diary.
I reached up to peel the tape, careful to make sure it remained sticky. I couldn’t risk Sam coming in here and seeing that whatever this book was had been tampered with. It took some maneuvering, especially since I had to twist my body up so I could use both hands. Finally, I managed to pull the tape back the rest of the way.
I wriggled out from under the desk, a little winded and irritated from how much effort it took just to cover my tracks and get my hands on something that was obviously private. There was no other reason to hide it in a place even I hadn’t considered the first time around.
I got to my feet and stared at the book. It appeared to be a leather-bound volume of some kind, small and lightweight. My first thought was that it was just an address book. But maybe I could at least figure out who she was working with on her investments.
I unsnapped the closing flap, and I was disappointed. It was just an appointment book, and based on the dates, it was over a year old. Anything in here was already done and far in the rearview mirror. Nonetheless, I turned to the last several pages and worked backward, hoping I’d see something that stuck out. A meeting with someone I’d never heard of, or maybe an appointment with a stockbroker.
But everything was in some sort of code. Names were abbreviated, and I assumed they were initials. Locations were listed as ‘the old hangout’ or ‘hot new place.’ None of it told me anything definitive, and I was so mad I nearly threw it across the room. But I couldn’t damage it. That was just asking for trouble.
Instead, I tossed it on the desk, running a hand through my hair in frustration. But something caught my attention, and I looked closer. There was a folded sheet of paper that must have been in the pocket of the leather liner, and it was sticking out the top of the book.
I picked it up and opened it. And grinned.
It was a list of what could only be a bunch of passwords. With this information, I could sign into her computer, open her email and find what I was looking for, and even get into the bank account to download records that matched up with her activities.
I sat down in the chair, and I was relieved that the computer was only asleep. I didn’t have to wait for ages to get it to boot up. I looked down the list of random codes and rolled my eyes. None of them spelled out what they gave her access to, and they were all ten characters long, a combination of letters and numbers that even I probably wouldn’t be able to memorize.
There was no rhyme or reason to them, so I positioned my fingers over the keyboard and started going down the list. I struck gold on the fourth entry, and up popped her Windows screen. That was a huge triumph and a step in the right direction. It gave me a sense of success, and I found the desktop icon for her email.
I started down the list again, working from the top and through each combination. But I wasn’t having such good luck as I had with the sign in to the computer. And I was only halfway through when I heard wheels on the driveway. Damn! Sam was home early. I wasn’t expecting her for at least another hour.
I moved as quickly as I could, carefully taping the book back exactly where I found it, with the page of passwords tucked into the same pocket. I logged out of the computer and put it to sleep, and then I hightailed it out of the office, almost forgetting to turn off the light.
I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen just as the door from the garage opened and Sam stepped through the door. I was slightly winded, and I turned on the faucet, splashing a little water on my hair and shirt. If Sam took notice of me, it would give the impression I’d been working out and explain away my labored breathing.
I cursed under my breath as she came straight to the kitchen. I’d hoped she would go up to her room and skip the antics with me. I didn’t have anything to say to her, and I didn’t want any questions or accusations.
As she stepped into the room, I had my face in the fridge. I actually was hungry, but it was more a diversion tactic, and a way to keep us separated. I peered around the door and saw that she was obviously angry, but I had no idea why. I hadn’t broken any rules. I hadn’t gone anywhere I wasn’t supposed to. And while I was in her office, she didn’t have a clue about that. Of all the places in the house that she might have bugged or videoed, she would have skipped her office. She wouldn’t want evidence of setting up any trysts or illegal practices, and I was sure she set up both in that office.
So, what was her problem this time?
“You’re home early,” I said, not exactly trying to provoke her but opening the floor to see what had gotten her all riled up this time.
“Whatever,” she muttered, practically throwing her purse on the island. It knocked the bowl of fruit to the floor, but she ignored it. She really was pissed off. “Give it up, Zane.”
Thoroughly confused, I stared at her with my brows knit together. “What are you talking about, Sam?”
She pointed a finger at me, and as she spoke, she walked toward me until she jabbed that long nail into my chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t play stupid with me!”
For once, I didn’t have to feign ignorance. I literally had no idea what she was accusing me of now. “Look, Sam, I seriously have no clue what you mean. What is it you want me to give up?”
Her eyes sparked with rage, and I knew it was time to tread carefully. Valid or not, her determination that I’d done something terrible made her volatile, and I didn’t want to set off the bomb and cause a nuclear winter.
“What did you tell her, Zane?”
Had she gone mad? I hadn’t told anyone anything, and I couldn’t understand why she would think I had, who I would have told, or why she had any reason to be angry about it. I stepped away, watching her carefully as I grabbed a glass out of the cabinet..
I thought to pour myself some orange juice, or pretend that had been my intent, but she slammed her hand on the counter, and I set the glass down, staring at her with concern. Something was desperately wrong, and I had a feeling I really needed to know what it was. My stomach churned, and I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
“What the hell did you say to your stupid little girlfriend, Zane?” She advanced on me again, and I held my breath. If Kathryn – or Crystal, I didn’t know which – was involved, I was all ears. I hadn’t been scared at first, and I wasn’t particularly scared for myself. But I didn’t know just what Sam was capable of when it came to Kathryn.
“Tell me, Zane, or I swear…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
“I didn’t tell her anything. What are you concerned she knows?” I needed all the information. Sam must have spoken to one of the two women again, which was enough to infuriate me. But on top of that, she had to think Kathryn knew about the insider trading.
When Sam perceived a threat to her happiness, she was unpredictable and easily provoked. I knew for a fact she could lose control at any moment, and since I couldn’t keep her away from Kathryn and Crystal without compromising my own plan for escape, I had to find a way to calm her down, assure her there was nothing to worry about.
“Don’t lie to me!” she screamed. “I know you said something, and I want to know how much you told the little bitch.”
“Don’t talk about her that way,” I said, my voice calm but my blood boiling. I could handle anything she said about me, but I wasn’t going to let her defile Kathryn’s name. “And I told you the truth. I didn’t say a word about anything that involves you.”
She screeched wordlessly, and I flinched. I quickly moved several feet away. I didn’t need her clawing at my face or giving me a black eye, and she looked ready to do both. Her eyes were wild as she said, “You’re a liar! Spit it out, Zane, or you’ll regret it!”
I stood there, transfixed. When I said nothing, she grabbed the glass I’d left on the counter and launched it at my head. I ducked, the flying object narrowly missing my face, and I turned in amazement to see it shatter as it hit the wall.
That was it. She’d started a war.