No in Between Read online

  “Mark can’t put me in jail.”

  “They can’t, either,” he assures me. “You have an alibi.”

  “But they implied that Rebecca came back and left again. They made it sound like I killed her to keep my job.”

  “Blake would have seen another travel date. It’s all a head game. I’m confident you’re in the clear.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “And I’m hoping like hell I was in Paris the day Rebecca returned. I never checked the date. I didn’t have a reason to until now.”

  I blanch. “Do you think they’re going after you?”

  “No. I think they’re going after Mark. And they’ll use any intimidation method they can to put the knife in our hands if we let them.”

  “They do seem to think he’s involved in her disappearance, don’t they?”

  “Yes. They do.”

  “Do you?” While I know in my heart that Mark’s innocent, I find myself holding my breath.

  He will never belong to me as I do to him. I will never control him as he does me. I play by his rules and I never know how they will change, or what or who will be part of the new game each of our encounters becomes.

  Rebecca Mason

  Six

  Rather than answer my question, Chris ushers me into the 911, where he shuts us inside. He sits with his wrists on the steering wheel, staring forward, tension rippling off of him. I hold my breath, still waiting on the answer to my question.

  Finally, he turns to face me and says, “No. I don’t think Mark had anything to do with Rebecca’s disappearance.”

  “Then why did you have to think about your answer?”

  “Because he made decisions that led her to the place she ended up. I’ve tried not to blame him, but he has a responsibility and he has to own that, or he’ll repeat it with another negative outcome. I’m not sure he has that in him.”

  Like Chris has owned what happened to Amber. “I was angry with Mark, too, but for all his sins, and he had plenty with Rebecca, he didn’t make Ava kill her.”

  “No, he didn’t. And had Ava been someone else, Rebecca might have simply ended up like Amber. But he put both of them in situations that led to that kind of hate and anger. You say he loved her. I say he didn’t. Or he wasn’t in love with her like I am with you, any more than I was with Amber. You don’t drag someone you love into that kind of hell, and play the kinds of games he did with her mind and body. You climb out of hell to be with them.”

  My eyes prickle and I lean into Chris and cup his cheek. “I love you. And Amber’s going to be fine, Chris.”

  “Fine? She’s lost years of her life, and I let it happen.”

  I realize now why I was so determined to save Amber. She’s not one of his scars. She’s an open, bleeding wound. “No. You didn’t.”

  “I did. And that’s why I get Mark. I get his mistakes. I get the guilt he feels. And now, he’s living with the fear of his mother’s death. So we’ll help him get through this, but I need to be sure I know his state of mind, so I know how to navigate the situation. If he keeps denying his role in what happened, and refuses to make changes, this could be the end of the line with him.”

  He kisses my hand and turns away, starting the car. I want to say more, but Chris’s cell phone rings and the opportunity is lost for now. By the time we near our apartment, Chris has confirmed that Jacob handled what turned out to be a reporter at the gallery and set up a meeting with him to talk about security concerns and options.

  He ends the call and drives around to the back of our building to the garage. “I’m going to take my Harley to my meeting with Jacob, so you can have the car.”

  “I thought I’d go with you.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m going to try to connect with Mark after my meeting with Jacob and get a feel for where his head is, and I want to do that alone. And Jacob says Amanda is ready to quit after getting spooked today, so I assume you’ll want to go talk to her.”

  “Oh no, that’s not good. There are only two of them as it is. Yes. I’ll go talk to her.”

  Chris parks the 911 and leaves it running. When I join him on the driver’s side to take over, he says, “We’ll go pick out a car of your choice next week.”

  “I have my Ford.”

  “Give it to Amanda. You said she doesn’t have a car. We’ll get you a new one.”

  “I don’t need a new car.”

  “Yes.” He pulls me to him. “You do. One you feel is yours and meets my standards, which are high where you’re concerned.” He doesn’t give me time to argue. “Tell Amanda we’ll have security in place at the gallery by tomorrow. That should make her feel better. I’ll tell Mark when I see him.” He strokes my hair from my face and tilts my face to his. “Try not to worry too much. We’re okay.” He kisses me soundly and then crosses the parking garage to his Harley.

  We’re okay, I repeat in my head, thinking about what he’d said about Amber and Rebecca. Why do I think he said that more for himself than me this time?

  • • •

  When I arrive at the gallery’s back parking lot, I’m surprised to see Ryan Kilmer’s silver BMW parked near the door, not far from Jacob’s black sedan. Locking the 911, I head toward the building and call Jacob to let me inside.

  “What’s Ryan Kilmer doing here?” I ask when he opens the door.

  “From what I can tell, comforting Amanda,” he says as I step inside. “He arrived about ten minutes after I did.”

  The mama bear in me flares to life, determined to protect Amanda. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “I take it you don’t approve of him?”

  “Not a bit. She’s too young for him, and he’s—” I stop myself from saying “a Master,” unsure of what Jacob knows about that side of Chris’s life, “too old for her.”

  Jacob’s eyes flicker a moment with what I am almost certain is understanding, but he says only, “I tend to agree. Will you be okay if I leave while he’s still here?”

  A memory of Ryan and Mark cornering me at the open house for Ryan’s property is uncomfortable, but not frightening. “I’m fine,” I assure him. “It’s Amanda I’m worried about.”

  “Understood.” He hesitates a moment, before adding, “Just a general warning about the investigation, speaking from experience. Anyone involved could decide to protect themselves by throwing someone else under the bus.”

  “I know,” I assure him, thinking of my father and Michael. “I’ll keep my guard up. And thank you for everything, Jacob. I know it’s your job to be here for me, but you do it well, and it’s appreciated.”

  His stoic features actually soften. “It’s my absolute pleasure, Ms. McMillan.” He pushes open the door to depart, pausing to add, “Walker Security is arranging for a man to be here by morning, but in the meantime it’s better to be cautious. If you leave after dark and Mr. Merit isn’t here, either have someone walk you out, or call me and I’ll come over.”

  “Absolutely. Thank you.”

  He exits and the automatic locks click into place behind him. I start to turn and hesitate a moment as a thought hits me. If there are cameras inside and outside the building, then any visit from Rebecca would have been recorded. If Rebecca came here, there would have been footage. And why wouldn’t she just come here or go to Mark’s house? How did she end up with Ava, whom she didn’t even like? There’s only one answer that makes sense. She came here, found out Mark was out of town, and went to the coffee shop. Mark said he never knew she had returned to the city. Maybe she went next door to muster her courage to come here, not knowing Mark was out of town? Somehow, she ended up with Ava.

  I’m still considering the possibilities when I enter the business office to a ringing phone and an unmanned desk. Crossing to Ralph’s office, I find him packing his briefcase. Glancing at my watch, I note it’s barely six o’clock, early for the gallery to close. “Everything okay?” I ask, worried that Amanda isn’t the only one who might be ready to quit.

  His eyes lift to m
ine. “As okay as we get around here, these days. I didn’t expect you back tonight.”

  “Chris had a meeting, so I thought I’d stop in and check on things after your problem with the reporter. Where’s Amanda?”

  “In the break room flirting with Ryan.” He leans on his desk, his crooked bow tie at half-mast. “He showed up about the time she was ready to walk out over that reporter stalking us all afternoon. Fortunately, she’s drawn to rich and good-looking men, and he convinced her to stay.” He lowers his voice. “And while I’m grateful he worked his mojo, she’s so over her head with him, it’s scary.”

  He’s so right. “I know. I’ve tried to warn her away from him in the past. Obviously it didn’t work.”

  “Try harder.”

  He’s right again. “I will.”

  “Good. Because she won’t listen to me.” He straightens. “Did you hear Bossman’s back in town?”

  “I saw him at the police station. Did he call or come by here?”

  “No. Ryan told us he’s here, and we’re hoping it means we can get back to some form of order.”

  I’m irritated that Mark would communicate with Ryan but he won’t return my calls. Has this investigation become Chris and me against Mark and Ryan? Is it worse than that—against Mark, Ryan, and Ava?

  No, that’s silly. Mark isn’t aligned with Ava. I pray Ryan isn’t, either.

  Ralph slides his briefcase strap onto his shoulder. “Crystal has us closing at six since we aren’t operating the showroom. Are you coming in tomorrow?”

  I won’t know until Chris has talked with Mark. “No decisions yet, but I’m just a phone call away, no matter what. And there will be security here starting tomorrow. No more reporters stalking you.”

  “That’s welcome news. Shall we go herd Ryan and Amanda out of here, so we can all leave?”

  “I think I’ll stay and try to talk to her, while I have a chance.”

  “You sure? I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. I think our talk will go better if it’s just her and me.”

  He nods, giving me a hug on his way out. Pausing at the reception desk on my way to the break room, I’m stunned by the pages and pages of messages by the phone, though I suspect many are repeats. I have to help out here. There’s no way Crystal can handle Riptide’s massive operation and juggle Allure, too.

  Since Amanda still hasn’t returned, I drop my coat and purse on her desk and head toward the break room. The soft murmur of voices has me peering cautiously around the doorway. Ryan and Amanda stand on the other side of the small kitchen table, facing each other.

  He’s leaning close to Amanda, his head dipped low, and he murmurs something that I can’t make out.

  Amanda leans away from him, giving me a partial glimpse of her face. “I’m not ready,” she whispers. “I can’t.”

  Pretty sure I know what they’re discussing, I curl my hands into fists and it’s all I can do not to shout out my agreement. Of course she’s not ready. She’s a kid, an intern. He’s in his thirties, a Master with a depth of sexual experience.

  “You are ready,” he insists, and I’ve had enough.

  With a deep breath, I step into the room, and dare the deep muddy waters of butting into someone else’s life. “Ready for what?”

  Ryan turns to face me, his light brown eyes skimming my body a bit too intimately. My stomach drops and I’m back in the moment when he and Mark tried to seduce me; when they trapped me, touched me. “Sara,” Ryan says softly, his voice almost as intimate as his inspection had been. “Good to see you. The last time we saw each other was in less than favorable circumstances.”

  Is that what he calls Ava trying to kill me?

  “I’ve been worried,” he adds. “How are you?”

  “As good as any of us can be, under the still unfavorable circumstances.”

  His mouth slips into a grim line. “Indeed. It’s not our best year, is it?”

  His nonchalance over Rebecca’s death, and almost mine, makes me so angry, I decide no reply is better than what would come out of my mouth.

  I focus on Amanda instead. “You’re not ready for what?”

  She twists her fingers together in front of her. “Oh, I . . .”

  “She wants a promotion,” Ryan offers, “and she’s afraid to ask Mark.”

  His explanation is so fast and smooth, his stare so steady and unwavering, that I almost believe him. But I know Amanda almost walked out today and when I look at her, she cuts her gaze away, unintentionally telling me he’s lying. “I can talk to Mark for you,” I offer, pushing for the truth.

  Her gaze jerks to mine. “No. Please no. I’m not . . . ready. Not yet. Please. Promise, Sara. Don’t say anything.”

  “I’ll wait until you’re ready,” I say. “Just let me know.”

  Her shoulders slump with relief. “Thank you. Yes, I will.” She casts Ryan a tentative look. “I’m going to go gather my things.”

  She seems to wait for his approval, and he gives it with a nod. Then, and only then, does she rush from the room. Everything about the exchange screams Master and submissive.

  I advance on Ryan. “Are you crazy?” I hiss softly. “Rebecca’s dead, and a million eyes are on the gallery and on Mark. This is not the time to be playing Master and submissive with one of the staff members.”

  He arches a brow. “Mark? Not Mr. Compton?” He laughs. “He was crazy to think you’d ever call him Master.”

  Unease ripples through me at the implication that they’d talked about turning me into their submissive, as they had Rebecca. “No,” I say, my tone crisp. “I wouldn’t, and neither is Amanda. She’s too young and too innocent, and frankly too immature, to take either of you on.”

  “No woman in my life has to take me on, Sara. I’m not Mark. I know you read Rebecca’s journals. I can’t believe anything she wrote about me would have said that I was.”

  More unease slides through me. He’s just admitted that he’s the other person in the journals. Then Jacob’s warning flickers in my mind, and I wonder if Ryan’s baiting me for information, trying to find out if he’s in the journals. I’m not sure why he’d care, though. Ava killed Rebecca. Didn’t she?

  “My point,” I say, “is that now is not the time to bring your lifestyle into the gallery.”

  “My lifestyle? Look in the mirror, Sara. It’s yours, too, and if you must know, I called Riptide looking for Mark, who hasn’t exactly been returning anyone’s calls. They told me he was headed here. I called the back-up line, and Amanda started rambling about some strange guy by the door. I was a few blocks away, so I came over to help. Now I’m going to give her a ride home. No games; just me being a gentleman. If Mark shows up, tell him I came by.”

  He disappears into the hallway. No matter how he frames the story, I don’t believe his intentions are honorable toward Amanda. I’ve always thought he was less aggressive than Mark, but I’m not so sure anymore. Perhaps he’s the biggest game player of all.

  Seven

  He shoved me against the wall and then tore my panties off. His lips pressed close to my ear, his breath was hot on my neck, as he said, you know the rules, you know I have to punish you.

  Rebecca Mason

  Being alone is a unique opportunity to look around—perhaps for the security feed from the camera outside. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but it feels like there’s a missing piece to this puzzle that no one knows. I double-check the security system, then go to my old office. Settling behind the desk, I’m oddly drawn to the haunting painting of the roses again, as if my mind is trying to tell me something. A shiver races down my spine, and I dial Jacob to give him a heads-up that I’m alone.

  “I’m going to stay awhile, but I’ll definitely want an escort when I leave.”

  “Is the security system in place?” he asks.

  “Yes, I checked.”

  “Good. Call me in an hour to check in, or I’m going to come check on you.”

  I
let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks again, Jacob.”

  “Thank me by not forgetting to call in an hour.”

  We hang up, and the fact that Jacob feels I’m safe enough with the security system eases some of my nerves. But then, he also thinks Rebecca’s killer is in jail.

  I frown at that random thought. She is in jail. Of course she is.

  I’m just about to start nosing around the gallery when Chris calls. “Hey, baby.”

  His deep voice radiates through me and I feel the tension from my encounter with Ryan melt away. I sink deeper into the soft leather of my chair. “Hey.”

  “Are you still at the gallery?”

  “Yes. Can you meet me here?”

  “No. Mark finally called me, and I’m meeting him in about twenty minutes.”

  “Did you hear from David after he left the police station?”

  “We texted. I’m supposed to meet him after I talk to Mark for a full update. Did Jacob leave?”

  “Yes, but he’s coming back to get me when I’m ready to go. Is there any word on Rebecca’s travel dates?”

  “Blake confirmed Rebecca returned before you started at the gallery, and I confirmed I was in Paris that entire week, but he’s backtracking to make sure there isn’t another date he missed.”

  “Does he think that’s possible?”

  “He checked all the public transportation logs and saw nothing, but he’s double-checking anyway. He’s looking into private flights as well, but he won’t have any way of finding travel by car.”

  My heart sinks. “That’s true. And it gives the police a tool to manipulate and scare us.”

  “They can only do those things if we let them. We won’t, and neither will David.”

  “Did Mark say anything helpful when you talked to him?”

  “No, we only spoke for a minute—speaking of which, I need to leave for my meeting with him. Call me if you need anything, and don’t leave there without Jacob.”