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I juggle the folder, notepad and tablet I have in my hands and walk purposefully to the conference room. The door is slightly ajar so I push it open the rest of the way and enter, taking a seat. The table is large, with ten chairs on both sides, as well as a chair at the head of the table. That chair is occupied, but I can’t see who it is because they’re facing away from the door. The pretentious high-backed chair prevents me from peering around it, but I think it’s the CEO. Must be a big deal if he’s down here to meet someone.
Cautiously, I say, “Umm … there’s supposed to be a meeting?” My voice cracks on the last word. I’m not used to talking to people other than my small team.
A deep voice says, “Close the door and move down here.” He twists slightly and taps the table beside him. He doesn’t turn for me to see his face, keeping the chair facing away.
I scurry to the door to do what he says, then gather my things to move where he told me to. I look around and wonder where everyone else is and why this meeting was even called. Checking my phone, I see that the meeting should have started already. “Sir, umm …” I don’t know what to say, so I let the sentence hang in the air.
“Stay calm,” he says and I’m about to ask why I need to stay calm when the chair turns and I’m staring into the gray eyes of Michael.
With my heart in my throat, I scoot my chair back and move as quickly as I can away from him. “Don’t,” I beg, trying to move around the chair. “Please don’t kill me.”
He grabs my arm and I try to pull away from him. I open my mouth to scream, but a large hand clamps over it before I can release the sound. Not like it would have made a difference since conference room ten is basically a dead zone.
“Just listen!” he says hastily. “Relax, Damon, please!”
I look at him with tears brimming in my eyes, afraid that this is it. This is the end. I haven’t done anything. I haven’t loved, I haven’t been loved, I haven’t traveled, I haven’t done … anything. And now this man, this man with the beautiful eyes and soft looking lips and long beautiful hair will be my end.
“Nod so I know you understand,” he says in a quiet voice. I know I have no option if I have any hope of living. I nod. “Good. I’m going to let you go and move my hand. Please don’t scream. You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
I search his eyes, hoping to see something trustworthy in them. Hoping to seesomething. His eyes just look like … eyes. Unreadable. But again, what choice do I have?
With no other option, I sag in his arms and stop fighting against him, nodding again. As promised, he moves his hand from my mouth and sets me in the chair I vacated. He puts me in it like I’m a child and slides it closer to the table, then takes the seat he was sitting in before.
Michael doesn’t start talking right away—he simply stares at me for a moment. I fidget in my chair, wanting to get away from his scrutiny but afraid if I do, he’ll kill me. Finally, he exhales and reaches into his coat. I shrink back into my chair and throw my hands up, waiting for the bullet that I’m sure isn’t far behind. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to see it coming.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” his soft voice cuts through my fear. “I’m just grabbing my phone. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“That’s not something you can promise,” I whisper against my better judgement.
His hand on my arm makes me jump, but he doesn’t let go. His hold isn’t rough, but it is firm. “Look at this, please.” His voice takes on a soothing quality and it’s almost like I have to obey. I open my eyes to see a phone shoved in my face. Moving back, I blink to bring it into focus and see a photo of Abel and Savage. I blink quickly and try to push the phone away, but Michael is strong—his arm doesn’t even budge. “Look, Damon. Look closely.”
Shooting a glare his way while wiping at the tears that I’ve kept pent up for three years, I snatch his phone—surprising myself—and look at the picture. I reach out and drag my fingers over Abel’s handsome, yet beautiful face and want to collapse into tears. Then I blink. And blink again. There’s something different here. Savage looks different. He looks good. He … doesn’t have scars. But … when I saw him for the first and only time, scars marred the right side of his face.
I look up at Michael, eyes wide and he nods back to the phone. Glancing back down, I see a chubby dog at their feet. The dog looks exactly like I remember Pogo looking, but bigger. Much bigger. Like he aged.
My hand flies to my mouth and I hungrily look at the photo. Could this be? Is Abel still alive? How?
Shaking my head, I drop the phone to the table and cover my face, hot tears leaking from my eyes. What is going on? I’m so confused. How is Abel still alive and I’m just finding out about it? What happened?
I feel an arm slip around me and I shake it off. Michael looks hurt, but he rallies and fixes his face into a mask. I don’t know why that sends a pang through my heart, but I ignore it. “What is this? Did you doctor this photo? Some … age progression thing?” I ask.
Michael’s lips tip up into a quick smile. “I don’t think age progression can be used on animals, Damon.”
He’s right. Of course, he is. But what is the explanation? I chuckle softly to myself. Who do I think I am that I deserve an explanation? Abel and I were—are?—best friends. I don’t have to be privy to everything that goes on.
My head drops and another tear falls. Abel didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on. He didn’t think I could keep his secret. He left me.
Probably reading the hurt on my face, Michael rushes to reassure. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. He didn’t have a choice. Abel had to make a clean break to protect us and himself. Abel wanted nothing more than to tell you he was still alive.”
“Yeah?” I ask, angrier than I’ve been in my entire life. “How hard would it have been for him to tell me he was leaving? That he was faking his death to move … god knows where? How fucking hard would it have been for mybest friendto tell me what was going on?!” I’m shouting by the time I’m finished telling Michael how angry and betrayed I feel, but he doesn’t shrink away. He holds firm and meets my eyes steadily.
My breath is coming out in pants. I want to say more, to yell more, but I’m out of steam. I don’t yell and I rarely curse. All this is too much, so I stand and start to gather my things.
“He was kidnapped,” Michael says when I have my things straight in my arms. “He couldn’t have told you because he didn’t know before it happened. He was kidnapped and tortured and almost killed. Abel would have told you, but he didn’t know.”
Dropping into the seat behind me, I stare at Michael, mouth agape. “Kidnapped?” I whisper. “What do you mean?”
Running a hand through his blond waves, Michael meets my eyes again. “Listen, it’s too much to tell you right now.” He looks at his watch and curses. “I have a five-minute window to get out of here before Quin turns the cameras back on.” I raise my eyebrows, but he keeps talking, more quickly now than he was before. “I want to tell you everything, Abel wants you to know everything, but I can’t talk here. If you give me your number, I can give you a call tonight so we can meet. I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Just—” he stops talking and pushes his discarded phone closer to me. “Please.”
