Identity Crisis(106)

What was really terrifying was that, for the first time in her life, she understood. She understood exactly how her mother could feel so deeply for a man, so deeply that she would abdicate all control to him, that she would be willing to suffer all humiliation, willing to do whatever it took just to keep him by her side, just to have his affection from time to time. Jesus, she understood! And nothing, nothing in her whole life had ever been more terrifying. She didn’t want to understand, damn it! She didn’t want to empathize, and she hated Garrett Thorne for opening her to such self-loathing, to such weakness.

She wanted to get home, have a hot shower, then take the Mustang out for a good hard drive. It had been too long, and the Mustang always made her feel better. The Mustang always reminded her of who she was, of how tough she was, of how she could handle anything if she had to. She could handle anything, even Garrett Thorne. The thought made her eyes well. Goddamn him! Why couldn’t he have just let her walk out the door in the beginning? And why had she been so hell-bent on connecting with Tess Delaney? Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone?

As soon as she could breathe again, as soon as she was a little more calm, she’d give Dee a call and see if she could have one of Ellis’s drivers come and get the Audi. She practically stole it when Dee had gone for a shower and Ellis had been distracted in his study by a phone call. She tried to cheer herself with thoughts of an outing to The Boiling Point next weekend, but all she could think of was being there with Garrett. Well, there were certainly other clubs she could go to. The Boiling Point wasn’t the only place to shake her booty. It wasn’t even the best place to shake her booty. So why did she still feel so fucking miserable? Dee and Ellis didn’t have to go clubbing to find each other. Dee and Ellis didn’t try to control each other. And Garrett was Ellis’s brother.

She tried to shake thoughts of him out of her head. He was Tess Delaney; he was Garrett Thorne, so different from his brother, so different. But she didn’t care who the hell he was. He was not her problem anymore.

She pulled Dee’s Audi into the underground parking garage in the space right next to the Mustang. Her lovely Mustang. She gave the well-polished candy-apple red flank a stroke, as she locked up the Audi and headed for the elevator. A hot shower, that would be a good start. And then maybe she’d just drive on over to the coast, maybe to Lincoln City, and spend a couple of days driving the Mustang on the coastal highway. Surely that would take her mind off – things. She stepped into the elevator and let the doors shut behind her before she punched in her floor.





Chapter Twenty-Six

‘Where are you?’ Wade Crittenden’s voice huffed out of Carla’s iPhone into her ear. There was no greeting.

She nearly cried with relief. She had been terrified the man would just write her off. ‘I’m nearly at the parking garage of the Pneuma Building,’ she managed, making no attempt to sound any less scared than she was. She wasn’t sure she could have if she wanted to.

‘Park in the reserved section on the ground floor,’ he said. ‘Take the elevator to the basement. I’ll meet you there. And hurry up.’ Then he hung up.

She’d heard Wade seldom bothered with pleasantries. He wasn’t rude. He was just busy. And, frankly, this was no time for pleasantries anyway. Her father liked him, and that was good enough for her. She exited the street into the parking garage, miscalculating the turning ratio of the motorhome and driving the back wheels up across the curb with a loud kathunk. She didn’t have to worry about finding the reserved spaces. Wade Crittenden himself was waiting in front of them, pacing back and forth with his arms folded across a dark blue hoodie that looked like a Wal-Mart special. She had also heard he wasn’t exactly the king of dressing for success.

With him directing her, she managed to take up only three parking spaces, before he practically yanked the door open and looked up at her with wide eyes. ‘Give me your iPhone,’ he said.

She didn’t argue, but handed it over. ‘You know, then.’

‘I know,’ he said, nodding her in the direction of the open elevator. ‘Garrett got an email. Well, Kendra did, actually, but they got their BlackBerries mixed up.’

‘Who’s Kendra?’ she asked.

He ignored her question. ‘Clearly this is not from Gleason, and Kendra doesn’t know what’s going on. She has her device turned off. Fortunately, she has Garrett’s BlackBerry, so I can still track her with the satellite, but that still doesn’t tell us where this guy is or if she’s safe.’