Hiding Places Page 2

  “Let me see your office. Let me see where you’ll be when I’m in here.”

  “It’s on the other side of that wall.”

  “No door?” Jane’s pout isn’t serious, but if I could, I’d punch through the wall and make a door right now. “I guess it’s better for focus.”

  “It’s why we have separate rooms. If I could see you, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

  I can’t keep my hands off her now. We go over to my office. Jane gets quieter as we approach my desk. “This room is just like you. It’s serious. A little… dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? The desk?”

  “The man.” She leans against the desk, her hands curling around the edge. Jane did this on purpose. We’re down here because of the thrill. And because we’ve done things in my office before. Things that are too filthy for a sweetheart like Jane. “It makes me want you.”

  Everything makes me want her. She can’t take a breath without me wanting her. She can’t put on a shirt in the morning or wiggle her hips into sleep shorts at night without me wanting to fuck her. I should have more control over my urges at this point in life. Jane Mendoza has demolished that idea. I’m at the mercy of her.

  “You didn’t like the bedroom?”

  “I love the bedroom.” She watches me get closer. Tips her face up as I cage her against the desk. “I like your office, too.”

  “With the door wide open like this?” We’re alone in the house, but she likes the suggestion of an illicit game. “Anyone could see you. Or hear you. There’s nothing to block the sound.”

  “You’re the only one I care about.”

  * * *

  Jane Mendoza

  Beau’s arms are like a cage. They hold me in place. There’s a touch of fear, but that only drives the desire hotter.

  “Do you remember?” he asks. “Do you remember when you came in my office?” There’s dark knowledge in his eyes and I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  It feels like my cheeks are on fire. Without breaking eye contact, I shake my head no. “I don’t remember.” It’s a lie and it’s also a challenge. I want him to remind me.

  The corner of his mouth lifts. He reaches back to hold my hair, his fist tightens until it tugs my scalp, until tears sting my eyes. He leans close and licks at my lips. Bites at them.

  It’s not a sweet kiss, it’s aggressive.

  And my body reacts, readying itself for him.

  I’m already halfway to orgasm and he’s barely even touched me. He definitely hasn’t touched me between my legs. He won’t, if this is anything like last time.

  “Let me remind you,” he says, the words low against my lips.

  And then his hand directs me down, down, down until my knees touch the ground.

  They’re straddling his shoes, the same brown dress shoes that probably cost some ungodly amount of money, probably imported from Italy.

  “Go ahead,” he says, his eyes glittering with sexual menace. “Make yourself feel good.”

  I’m too embarrassed. It was one thing to do it in his dark office at Coach House. This one is full of light. No one’s watching, but anyone could see me.

  His expression says he knows. He knows, but there isn’t going to be any mercy. He taps two fingers against my cheek in command. “Bear down, sweetheart. You know how to begin. You did it so well before. You did it so sweetly, humping your pretty cunt on my shoe, holding my leg, riding me for all you’re worth. You remember now, don’t you?”

  I let out a jagged breath. “Yes,” I say unsteadily.

  He waits with endless patience. I can see the bulge in his slacks. I can see his arousal, but it doesn’t change anything. This is for me, which makes it somehow more humiliating that I should derive my pleasure in this way.

  I rock my hips experimentally. The pressure feels wrong.

  His fingers, his mouth, his cock. I’ve been spoiled by a man who knows how to please me.

  But this? This is awkward. And ironically that’s what makes it hotter.

  I rock again and close my eyes.

  “No,” he says. “Watch me.”

  I look into his eyes, into their fathomless depth, as I press my sex to the top of his shoe, again and again, until climax overtakes me in a sudden, bright, almost painful burst.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Emily Rochester

  I don’t like the courthouse.

  I’ve never liked it, from the time I went to school here. The building’s the same style as most of the city buildings, but something about the courthouse just feels foreboding and vaguely threatening. It’s one of those places where your life can be made or ruined.

  Neither of those things happened to me today, unless your life is ruined if you have to testify against your brother, which I did.

  It’s over now, and I want to leave. Paige is with Beau and Jane, and I want to get back to her. I want to get back to anywhere that’s not this trial, and this courthouse. Anywhere I can be with my daughter and out from under the dark cloud of my brother’s actions.

  Getting out won’t be easy.

  I mean to exit the courthouse at full speed. It’s not an option. Reporters crowd around the door. They stand in front of it and block me from opening it all the way, and when they let me out, they’re like snapping dogs.

  Not the kind of crowd you’d probably see in a big city, but enough of one that my stomach turns over. I don’t want to have to push my way through them. Step close enough and they converge on you. They’re not afraid to jostle.

  I hold my purse tighter and try to keep my head down. It’s pointless. I’m the woman who came back from the dead. I testified against my brother. Shutters click, again and again and again until I want to scream.

  One voice cuts through the others. A voice I hate. This photographer is always pushy. Always in my face.

  “How did it feel to go against your own family today, Emily?” he shouts. He’s so loud. “What message do you think this sends to your daughter?”

  “No comment.” I want to say more. I want to tell him to shut the hell up about Paige and never mention her name again, but then that’s the story.

  “Where is your daughter today, Emily? Is it true your custodial rights have been reinstated?”

  He does this on purpose. It’s the man’s one skill, and he’s relentless at it. The rapid-fire questions are meant to be frustrating, and they are. I hate his questions. That’s how he gets people to answer.

  “Leave me alone.” They’re making it hard to get through, like they always do, but today it’s hard to breathe. Maybe it’s a bigger crowd than I thought. They press closer.

  “Did you testify to cover up for Beau Rochester?”

  The photographer steps fully into my path. It would be laughable if we were on the open sidewalk. That he has to resort to this to make a living. But we’re not. I’m hemmed in on both sides. My heart thuds with panic, the same way it did when Rhys would hit me. All I could think about was keeping him calm and doing whatever he wanted and making it safe for Paige.

  It’s going to be like this forever, I think, helplessness squeezing at my heart and my lungs. It’s just going to last and last until I can’t take it anymore.

  A shadow blocks the sun. Someone even closer. At first it startles me, but then I see who it is.

  Not a reporter. Mateo.

  He stands close, his arm making a barrier around me. “Leave her alone. You’ve had enough. Back up. Back up now.”

  They listen to him. He’s obviously used to dealing with photographers and paparazzi, but his voice has an edge of quiet fury. It almost seems like he’s pissed off on my behalf, which can’t be possible. Right now I don’t care. I just want to get out of here, even if Mateo Garza has to be the one to help me.

  And he does. He shepherds me through the crowd and to his car, which is waiting at the curb. It’s parked illegally. He opens the door for me, throwing a death glare over his shoulder at the reporters. I get in.

  We’re flying through town by the time I catch my breath.

  “Why didn’t you have someone escort you out? You had to know they’d be out there.” Mateo’s tone isn’t cruel, but it’s not kind, either.

  “I thought it would be fine.” I mean to snap at him, but it comes out shaken instead. I don’t want to make a scene in the courtroom, ever, so I’ve been holding myself in check for hours. Testifying was a nightmare. Joe sat right there and he heard every word. And then that asshole outside. I knew it wouldn’t be fine. Nothing is going to be fine until all of this is finished. I hoped it would be fine. Sometimes it’s all I can do.

  “You know, you can plan ahead for this. You don’t have to put yourself in that situation.”

  “Oh, yeah? I can just call down to the police station and ask them to help me?”

  Mateo cuts a glance my way. “It doesn’t have to be the police. You know how to do this.”

  “I shouldn’t have to.” It’s true. I shouldn’t have to hire private security because my brother’s a criminal.

  I shouldn’t have to do any of this. One tear spills out onto my cheek. I wasn’t going to cry. I was going to handle everything today like the competent, capable woman I am. Prove to the world, or at least the people in the courtroom, that I’m not a liar. That I’m not a woman gone crazy.

  Another tear falls, and I turn my face to the window to hide it.

  He sees anyway.

  “Emily.”

  I don’t answer. I’m holding my breath so I don’t make any noise. Mateo’s been driving to my house—he knows the way—but he puts on his turn signal and turns. Toward the beach. It’s three minutes at most and more tears fall, one by one, hot on my skin.

  He stops the car. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to se
e his pity or his judgment. I chose to marry Rhys. I didn’t choose the rest. If it were up to me, none of this would have happened. Today wouldn’t have been so hellish. He steps out of the car and closes the driver’s side door behind him. I keep my eyes on the dashboard.

  My door opens a second later.

  He’s blurred by my tears, looking down at me. If I open my mouth, if I say one word to Mateo Garza, I’ll break. Everything will come out. I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. I can’t name these feelings. I can’t label the swirling vortex of fear inside or I’ll crumble.

  Mateo waits. It’s better here, with the waves on the shore and the salt smell in the air, but I can’t put the tears away. I can’t force them back.

  A sob escapes. I tremble around it. There are more coming.

  Mateo leans down, unbuckles my belt, and pulls me out of the car. I’m not sure he means to hug me. I’m not sure he wants to. But he’s the only person there when I break down. There’s nobody else. I expect him to mock me. Or at least remain distant. Instead he pulls me close. I’m in his arms when I shatter into a thousand pieces. I’m held together in impassible strength. His embrace both tears down my walls and gives me shelter.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jane Mendoza

  “Jail,” says Paige, a little smile on her face. Jail for me, of course. She hasn’t gone to jail once this entire game of Monopoly. Meanwhile I’ve been behind bars four times. It’s unheard of.

  “Jail again,” I agree. I’d rather be in Monopoly jail across from Paige than anywhere else.

  This is the kind of thing that wouldn’t come so easily if I move away for college. The option is still there, of course. I haven’t decided anything yet. Haven’t even heard back from most places. But the decision looms in my mind. Back in Houston, paying for college would be the tough part. The decision itself was easy. I’d have gone to the University of Texas without a second thought.

  Now what? We have a brand-new house in Eben Cape, close enough to the new Coach House that Paige can run over whenever she wants. Or when Emily needs us to watch her, like today.

  A car pulls up outside, tires crunching on gravel.

  Paige’s eyes light up. “It’s Mom.”

  She abandons the game and runs for the door. We’ve been sitting on the floor at the coffee table for long enough that my knees protest when I rise. Hazards of Monopoly, I guess.

  Along with endless trips to jail.

  Outside, Paige has her arms wrapped around Emily’s waist, hugging her like she’s been gone for years instead of a few hours. My heart warms. They belong together.

  Paige’s bright smile captures my attention at first.

  It takes me a moment to understand that something’s wrong.

  Emily’s been crying. Her eyes are red. Something must have happened. Joe’s trial has been tough for her the entire time. Then today she had to get sworn in, facing him across a courtroom. How bad could it have gone? Did he say something rude? Surely the judge wouldn’t allow that. Did the defense attorney badger the witness?

  I step into the summer breeze. “Everything okay?”

  She gives me a grim smile. “I’m still standing. That has to count for something.”

  “It counts for a lot,” I say, my voice softening so Paige doesn’t hear. She’s drawing designs into the pebbles on the drive. She’s resilient, but she doesn’t need to hear the details of how her uncle murdered her father. Or the resulting court trial. She gets that resiliency from her mother, who’s overcome an abusive relationship and a state of hiding before being free. “Do you want me to keep her for a little longer? We can always play another round.”

  “No,” she says, a little too loud. It’s still hard for her to leave Paige. I can’t even imagine what it was like for her to be away from her child for so long. Unbearable. “No, thank you. I really appreciate you watching her, but I’m fine now.”

  Which of course confirms that she was not fine earlier today. “What happened?”

  Emily’s blue eyes are fixed on Paige. “The usual, I expect.”

  For a murder trial, she means. And she’s pretending to be fine. I know she’s lying. She’s clearly fragile, and I want to wrap her in a hug—but we aren’t close enough for that. “Let me know if I can do anything.”

  “I will,” Emily says, though that’s also a lie. I suppose living that long in the shadow of violent men has made her protective of the truth. She looks past me, out toward where the ocean is a glittering blue. Summer in Eben Cape is basically the real-life version of a tourism brochure for Maine. It’s all green grass and ocean waves and the breeze rustling in the trees. Summer is what makes the winters here worth it. I almost wish this trial wasn’t happening at the most beautiful time of year. “I was holding it together. At least I thought I was. Until the reporter.”

  “A reporter?” I hadn’t even thought about that. We live in Eben Cape, not a busy city. We have a local paper. And a radio station that’s in the next town over.

  “I can’t even remember what outlet he was with.” She rubs her eyes, looking remarkably like Paige when she’s exhausted. Overwhelmed. “He got in my face.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. We should have gone with you. Beau should have gone.”

  “It’s okay.” She hesitates. “Mateo was there.”

  “Which Mateo?”

  Surely not Mateo Garza, A-list movie star and Beau’s best friend. Surely not the man who has always been suspicious of Emily. He and Emily don’t get along. They bristle in one another’s presence. There’s an energy between them that seems like it might turn to angry sparks at any moment. Or maybe it’s some kind of sexual chemistry.

  “Mateo Garza,” Emily says.

  “He was there? Did you two… did you two have a discussion?” I mean an argument. If Mateo showed up at the wrong time, if he gave her a hard time on her hardest day, I’m going to give him hell. Was he just standing there outside the courthouse?

  “He helped me block the reporter. He kept him away from me so I could get to my car.” She blushes, the pink strong beneath her pale skin. “Actually, I’m in his debt.”

  It sounds like there’s more she’s not saying. Mateo, the hero of the moment.

  I guess I’ll have to thank him for helping Emily.

  Then again, he might not have done her any favors. After all, he’s a former hometown boy who became a famous movie star. It will be a bigger story that he was at the courthouse. There’s bound to be an article somewhere in the Eben Cape Herald, beneath a feature piece on the blueberry pie competition. Well, let’s hope no one actually reads it.

  “But you’re okay now,” I say to reassure her, but it comes out more like a question.

  “I’m great.” Emily puts her hand on Paige’s blonde locks, so much like her own. Love shines in her eyes when she looks at her daughter. “It’s time we headed home.”

  Paige gives me a cheerful wave from her mother’s side. “Don’t move the pieces.”

  “I won’t.” That’s our tradition, now that we live apart. Even though my house is on the same cliff, it’s not the same as living together. So we leave our Monopoly games open until the next time we see each other. Unfortunately, I’ll be starting tomorrow in jail.

  Watching them go hand-in-hand squeezes my heart.

  Paige is a miniature version of Emily. Both of them are like those expensive dolls that I could never afford as a little girl—with porcelain skin and blue eyes and blonde curls. In a way they seem delicate. Breakable. But I know better. They’re both strong.

  And brave.

  I’m sad to see them go, but I know that I’m luckier than I ever could have imagined. It’s a breezy summer in Eben Cape. I have a brand-new house. The only man I could ever want.

  Paige laughs as she climbs into the back seat. “She went to jail four times!” I hear her telling Emily. “Can you believe it? The last one she rolled snake eyes.”

  “I can believe it,” answers Emily. She reaches across Paige’s body and buckles her seat belt for her. At seven, Paige can do it herself, but she lets Emily do it anyway.

  There’s comfort in small gestures. Emily missed doing all those things for Paige while they were apart. She won’t waste a single chance to do them now.

  When Emily pulls away from the house, she rolls down the car windows.