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“Still get them?”
“Not as much,” she said tightly. In fact she hadn’t had so much as a hiccup in years. Not until she got the first note. Then it all came flooding back.
“It’s the letters. They’re upsetting. The name... No one knew that name, Joe. It’s not possible he’s...”
“He’s dead.”
Vivian nodded. Intellectually she knew that. Three sharp blasts, then the feeling of his blood spilling out of his body and onto her legs. Warming her after she’d been so cold.
She shuddered and tried to focus on the facts. Joe knew he was dead because Joe had killed him.
“Sugarplum,” she muttered. “To this day I can’t even look at a plum in the grocery store. Pathetic I realize, but a fact.”
“Are you sure you never used the name with anyone?” he asked. “Told some reporter at some time? It would have been easy to let it slip. You were constantly being hounded for comments.”
Vivian considered it, but no, it wasn’t possible. She hadn’t been able to say the name at all. When trying to give the federal agents as much detail about the time spent as his prisoner, even thinking the name caused her to shut down completely.
It wasn’t until she’d started therapy with Nicholas that she’d finally been able to recount more of the details of her kidnapping. Something he assured her she needed to do to put it behind her.
But Nicholas wasn’t someone she necessarily wanted to remember, either. She certainly didn’t want to discuss him with Joe. For now she didn’t see the point. Carl and his agents were going to investigate the origin of the letters. Joe was simply the body man she needed to watch her back.
The less said about her time with Nicholas, the better for both of them. Only, there was the small matter of Joe not wanting to take the job.
“I know this is strange,” she began. “For both of us. I know I’m probably the last person you ever wanted to see again, and now I’m asking you for something, as well. You can say no if you hate me that much. It’s okay for you to walk away. But if any part of you remembers who we used to be before it all happened, then I’m asking as your old friend to help me.”
He lifted the remaining glass of whiskey and swallowed it in one gulp.
“Okay. You win. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“You remember how it works, Viv? Where you go I go. Which means I’ve got to check out your place.”
Right, Vivian thought. She was taking Joe back to her place.
She could handle that. At least she hoped she could.
* * *
“WHERE’S YOUR BED?”
They were back at her apartment and Joe was moving from room to room. Finally he joined her in the kitchen, and Vivian tried to think straight.
It was hard when part of her wanted to pinch herself. It was surreal to her that he was actually here with her now. Not a dream. Not a memory.
He was certainly older. Some gray was smattered throughout his dark brown hair. A beard grew tight along his jaw. Back in the day the other agents had called him Baby Face Hunt, much to his chagrin. No one could say that now.
Of course, he was still handsome. She’d never expected that to change, and she didn’t think she would ever look at Joe Hunt and think him not handsome. His eyes were still the same. Deep, dark brown and intense. Although now there were lines around the edges, like rings in a tree marking the years of his life.
And when he asked her where her bed was, she felt a pang.
Not good.
A series of thoughts ran through her head. Did he want to take her to bed? Would she let him? Were they finally going to do what she’d felt had been destined for them all those years ago? Was this the thing they could do that would finally close the door on their past and let her move on with her life?
“It’s not an invitation. Just a question,” he elaborated.
Or maybe he just wanted to know where her bed was.
Mentally, Vivian scolded herself. She knew better than to indulge those feelings.
Adolescent crush. Hero worship. Fantasy-based infatuation. These were the terms Nicholas had used to describe her feelings toward Joe. Which in many ways helped. If he hadn’t been that important to her, then it wouldn’t have hurt as much that he left her when she needed him most.
Except he had been. Important. And it had hurt.
Back then.
“I don’t have a bed.”
“From what I can tell, this is a one-bedroom apartment. That room back there is supposed to be the bedroom. All you’ve got in there is some fancy couch, a nightstand and a walk-in closet.”
“It’s a chaise lounge,” she corrected him.
“Whatever. Where do you sleep?”
“I don’t sleep much,” Vivian answered. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want him to see the ripple effects of the kidnapping in her life. She wanted him to see how much she’d changed and grown. Not how much she was still broken.
Half answers had never been enough for him, though, and she could see he was waiting for more.
Vivian shrugged. “I have insomnia.”
“Even insomniacs sleep some of the time.”
“I sleep some, yes. On the couch here. In that leather recliner behind you. Sometimes on the chaise. Whenever my body needs it. You’re not supposed to lie in a bed and not sleep. It develops bad patterns. You begin to associate the bed with not sleeping. I didn’t want to develop any long-term issues with beds in general. Sooner or later I’m going to get over this. Then I’ll need one. For now, no bed.”
“You never used to have a problem sleeping.”
Vivian gave him a look that implied he was being thick.
He nodded. “You haven’t slept in ten years? You look remarkably well, considering.”
“I sleep. I just don’t sleep in a bed.”
“Must be hell on your boyfriends,” he commented, walking past her toward a wall she had filled with framed pictures of herself and her father. She’d once stood next to dignitaries, presidents, congressmen and a queen. She wondered if Joe remembered those times. He’d been at most of those occasions with her.
Then he looked over his shoulder at her with a shitty little grin. “Then again, I guess shrinks don’t have a problem doing it on a couch.”
Wow. A direct hit. She’d been waiting for it. It had to come up sometime. His disdain over what had happened with Nicholas. It was why she’d avoided mentioning his name back at the bar.
Still, she hadn’t been prepared for how much it would hurt. Hadn’t been prepared for him to hurt her so intentionally.
Something he would do only if he hated her.
This had been a mistake, she thought. A mistake to come to him for help. She thought he could make her feel safe. He thought she had ruined his life. Of course he would want to hurt her, punish her.
“You’re right, Joe,” Vivian said calmly. “What a funny joke.”
His expression changed. Almost as if he regretted the words, but it was too late. Now she knew the truth. He really did hate her, which meant she was never going to feel safe with him.
“Vivian...”
“This isn’t going to work.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from her. “I didn’t mean... I was just...”
“Being an ass? What? You thought reminding me about my scandal would make me laugh?”
If it was possible, Nicholas Rossi had been a bigger mistake than running away from Joe that night.
“Just like that, then? You said you needed me and now I’m expendable.”
“I can’t... I can’t...” She paused and took a deep breath, then another. She was not a weak person, she told herself firmly. She was not. “I can’t do this, Joe. I can’t fight whoever is trying to scare me and you, too. When I found you, I thought I would find...”
Safety and peace. What she’d had before with him before it all shattered. It had been a fool’s errand. A person couldn’t go back.
“Find what?” he asked.
Vivian shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong. I’m sorry for taking you away from your afternoon bender. You can bill me for your time.”
“What about your phantom stalker?”
She smirked. “Phantom? So you don’t think he’s real? Well, then I guess I’m as safe as I can be.”
“I didn’t say that. The letters are real.”
“They are, but who is to say who sent them? Maybe I sent them to myself. We both know I’m not exactly stable,” she said, a note of hysteria in her rising tone. “Heck, I used to see a shrink, right? Of course, after I seduced him, our sessions were more physical than mental. Not really much time for talking or working out your emotional issues when you’re committing adultery!”
“Calm down, Vivian.”
A typical Joe Hunt command delivered with simplicity and authority. There was never an order he barked that she didn’t obey. Sometimes she used to put up a good fight, but in the end she always capitulated. That was then.
“No, I won’t calm down!”
He moved toward her, and she knew what he would do. Grab her shoulders, make her look him in the eyes, breathe with her. And she didn’t want that again. She didn’t want to remember he could soothe her so easily.
Why had she done this? Why had she opened herself up to all of this again? She never should have gone looking for him.
“No,” she said, backing away from him. “I don’t have to do what you say anymore. Leave. Your services are no longer required.”
For a moment he said nothing, but he didn’t move. She thought he might try to convince her she needed him. He didn’t.
“Whatever you say. You’re the boss. See you around, Viv.”
He went out the front door and closed it slowly behind him.
He’d really left.
Immediately, the atmosphere in her apartment changed from one of comfort and safety to one of emptiness. She was alone again, and she didn’t know if she could bear it.
You were alone before. You’ve been handling this on your own for weeks.
Yes, but it had been horrible. Sleep, which was such a valuable commodity to her anyway, had completely eluded her. She was jumpy and agitated and...
She made bad decisions.
Decisions like finding Joe. Thinking there could be some resolution to their past.
Thinking that...
Go get him. Tell him you need him.
Another bad idea. Only it was getting harder and harder to tell which ideas were good and which were bad.
If she went after him, she would be humiliated.
But she would have him and he would protect her. This she knew for certain.
Except part of the reason she wanted to see him again was to prove to him she had grown up. She was supposed to be an independent, self-confident and mature woman. The fact that on most days she still felt like a scared little girl didn’t matter.
Only the illusion counted. If she went running after him and begged him to come back, he would know she hadn’t changed much in the last ten years. He would see her now as everyone had seen her back then. Needy. Clinging.
If that happened, he would never fall in love with her.
Suddenly Vivian wanted to scream. She wanted to smash everything in her apartment just to hear the sound of it splintering apart. She wanted to see physical evidence of what she felt inside.
Why him?
After the scandal with Nicholas had erupted, Vivian had left DC in shame and humiliation. She found a job and a life in Seattle. Then she found a new therapist, Susan, who had actually helped her work through her issues.
She’d begun to understand her dependence on Joe. Vivian had lost her mother at twelve. The woman who had been the center of her universe. Her father had been governor of Virginia at the time. A busy man with a busy schedule, he’d given Vivian every minute he could, but it hadn’t been close to what she’d had with her mother. Not enough of what she’d needed.
Her father would be heartsick to know what it had done to her every time he left her for work. Every trip he’d needed to take. Every event he’d needed to attend, leaving her alone at night.
The horrible, overwhelming fear that when he left, he might never come back. Like her mother.
Vivian used to think that aside from her panic attacks, she’d conquered her fear fairly well.
It wasn’t until she’d met Joe that she understood she’d only been controlling it. Because it wasn’t until she had met him, the fear finally went away.
Her appointed bodyguard. Her very own security net. It had seemed crazy to her. Until the first time she’d tried to ditch him and couldn’t. They were at some pizza place not far from the White House. She wasn’t sure what had made her do it, but she’d tried to leave through the back door. Maybe to test him. Maybe to tease him. She hadn’t gotten ten feet before he was behind her on the sidewalk.
He didn’t scold her. He didn’t lecture her on the importance of her security. He simply took her back to the restaurant.
That was when she knew. He was never going to let her get into trouble. He would never leave her side.
All reasons why a girl who had lived in fear until that moment would find herself falling in love.
Adolescent crush. Hero worship. Fantasy-based infatuation.
Nicholas had made it seem that what she’d felt for Joe wasn’t real. Then, of course, he’d begun to explain to her what was real.
Vivian dropped her face into her hands, the shame and humiliation of how easily she’d been manipulated washing over her like a wave that never stopped coming. She could move past it, she could not let it affect her life, but she could never forget how gullible she’d been.
Susan had helped her deal with that, as well. She’d called out Nicholas for being an abusive monster, preying on a victim when she was at her weakest. That was true, but Vivian had to be honest with herself. She’d let Nicholas seduce her, she’d let him screw her. She’d done it to hurt Joe.
Because Joe had left her.
Eventually, she forgave herself. For everything. Susan had helped her to understand emotions more clearly. If you loved, you loved. If you hated, you hated. If you were afraid, you were afraid, and if you were sad, you were sad. Pretending to feel something else when the other feelings were in charge was a quick way to an ulcer.
So Vivian let herself be sad. She let herself cry because Joe was gone, even though she had told him to leave. Finally she picked herself up, dried her tears and thought about what came next.
She would start looking for another investigator in the morning. Perhaps a woman would be a better option. At least it was a plan.
Changing into some flannel pajamas, Vivian set her cell on the nightstand so it was close at hand. Then she reclined on the chaise lounge as the strain of the day caught up with her.
She hadn’t slept at all last night, and she was exhausted. Concentrating on taking deep, slow, even breaths, Vivian felt herself drift off. The sound of her home phone ringing from the other room penetrated, but she had no intention of risking what might be actual sleep to answer it.
Whoever it was could leave a message.
CHAPTER FOUR
“HAIL TO THE CHIEF.”
The song broke through her sleep. Vivian lifted her head and reached for her cell phone on the nightstand. It was just after one in the morning. Only her father would think to call her at this time of night, and the ringtone proved it.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Oh, baby, were you actually sleeping and I woke you up? You’re never asleep at this hour.”
It was true. If she did manage to get a couple of hours in, it was usually between four and seven. Somehow, knowing dawn was approaching made it easier to sleep.
“I know, but don’t be upset.” Vivian looked at the time again and considered how long she’d been out. “I had four solid hours. That’s a lot for me. What’s up? How are the China negotiations?”
“They would be going a lot better if everyone in the room simply listened to me.”
Vivian smiled as she sat up. “There’s a surprise. Alan Bennett thinks he knows what’s best for everyone.”
“I can’t help it if it’s true. But I didn’t call for that. I want an update on the letter situation. I’m not happy they assigned Mather to review your case. He is incompetent. I’ve been thinking we should approach this from a different angle. Have someone privately look into the matter.”
Vivian almost chuckled. Great minds did think alike. Although she doubted her father would have approved her choice for bodyguard/investigator. All Vivian had to do was mention Joe’s name and her father would immediately look like he needed to hit something.
Another reason why letting Joe go was probably a smart idea. She couldn’t imagine her father would ever accept him as part of her life. Any part.
“I’ve considered that, too, Daddy. I’ll start researching investigators tomorrow. See if I can find someone I’m comfortable with.”
Because that had been the plan, right? Certainly not to go groveling back to Joe. She had her pride, and he’d insulted her. That was way more important than her peace of mind. And her father didn’t like him, and...
And when he’d asked where her bed was, she’d imagined something happening between them, and that was more dangerous to her peace of mind than her stalker.
“Okay. I want a list of names next time I call. I’ll have them properly vetted. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to the director of the service and see if I can’t get him to assign someone more qualified than Mather to investigate.”
Mather was how her father referred to Carl after the kidnapping. Carl hadn’t shouldered anywhere close to the blame Joe had, but her father’s opinion of the man had lowered significantly. Despite trying to explain to her father for years that Carl had nothing to do with her kidnapping, she’d never been able to convince him.
Vivian sometimes wondered who had it worse. Joe for losing his job, or Carl for keeping his but forever being known in the agency to his superiors as That Carl. At least Joe had gone on to have something for himself, with no one to answer to.
She wondered if her father would even mention that Carl had seen Joe today. Had questioned him in a formal capacity as a person of interest. Doubtful, since he probably knew it would upset her and he wouldn’t want to have that fight. Not over Joe. Not again, when they hadn’t had it in so many years.
“I’ll get some names and figure out what to do from here,” she said. “You worry about saving the world and making it a better place for mankind.”
“I can multitask. I’ll be back in a few days for Christmas. Speaking of which, there is an event at the end of this week I would like you to attend with me. A fund-raiser for underprivileged children in DC. The president will be in attendance and he’s asked me to come.”
Vivian was about to agree.
“Jefferson will be there, as well,” her father added before she could reply.
Right. Jefferson Caldwell, junior congressman from northern Virginia’s district ten. He was handsome, he was charming, but most important he was single and looking for a politically suitable wife.
Despite her scandal, Vivian fit the bill of a suitable political wife with the appropriate political pedigree. She’d met Jefferson on a handful of occasions, all arranged by her father. He’d seemed nice and considerate, but she hadn’t felt any spark. Nothing like what she’d felt upon seeing Joe again. The instant attraction. The need to touch any part of him so she was connected to him. The desire to hear him speak, the comfort of having him listen.
There had been a few other men in her life in the last ten years. Nice men. Kind men, other than Nicholas.
One she had liked very much, but as soon as he’d started to hint at marriage she’d called it off, knowing instinctively that wasn’t what she wanted from him. Companionship, yes. Commitment, no.
Adolescent crush. Hero worship. Fantasy-based infatuation.
Or love.
It didn’t matter what anyone called it, Vivian could only speak to how it felt. Maybe now that she’d seen him again, had said what she’d wanted to say to him, it would start to fade.
Their relationship ten years ago had ended with an abrupt separation. Because of that, she’d never been able to move beyond those feelings. There had been no resolution to them. Now there was. She’d said she was sorry. He’d said she ruined his life.
Then he’d hurt her. Intentionally. Spitefully.
Now they were over for good. Which meant she had to consider what she wanted her future to be. She wanted love, a husband, children.
None of that was going to happen with Joe Hunt.
“It will be lovely to see him again,” Vivian said after a beat. Maybe it would be. For the first time she might be able to look at a man and not compare him with Joe. Accept him at face value for who he was.
“Excellent. Then it’s a plan. I love you, sweetie.”
“Love you, too, Daddy.”
“Try to get some more sleep—that’s an order.”
Vivian smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Although even as she disconnected the call she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Her brain was fully awake and she actually felt refreshed. As if her sleep had been deep and steady where usually she tossed and turned and slept in short bursts.
Leaving her bedroom, she headed into the kitchen to scrounge for some food. A plan of hot chocolate and a late-night movie was already starting to form. Vivian stopped, though, when she saw the blinking light on her home phone.
Few people called her on her home phone, as her friends and employees all had her cell.
The automated voice told her she had two new messages. Wow, she thought. She’d been so out of it she hadn’t even heard it ring the second time. Actual sound sleep.
“Vivian, this is Jefferson. I had hoped to catch you at home.”
See, she told herself, he sounds perfectly normal. A deep voice with a hint of a Southern accent. There was no reason not to find this man attractive. Except when he’d asked for her phone number, she had purposely given him only her house number, not the cell she always had with her. There was always a sense of distance. Susan used to call these behaviors her barriers. Vivian had always been inclined to build them around herself. The kidnapping had only made that worse.
“I would like to extend you an invitation to a Christmas fund-raising event. I’m sure your father will be there, too, but...well, I would like you to come as my date. The three of us, of course, can sit together.”
“Of course we can sit together. Otherwise you lose the chance at a photo-op,” she muttered, then immediately winced. She was supposed to be keeping an open mind. It was just that she couldn’t help but feel as if Jefferson’s interest in her had more to do with her name than her.
It had been the way he’d casually brought up the scandal when they had first met. How she had been a victim. Vulnerable after having survived such a horrific event. Nicholas Rossi had been the villain and should have been treated by the country as such.
The American people must realize that now in hindsight. That was what Jefferson had said.
As if the American people cared at all about a ten-year-old affair, no matter whom she was.
The former president’s grown daughter was of no interest to the American people. However, as the wife of an up-and-coming congressman, that could change. Suddenly the name Bennett would be back in the political spotlight.
Spin.
His words had felt like spin to her, as if he were already spinning how he would handle any questions related to her very public affair with Nicholas.
Vivian had left DC to stop the spinning.
“Please call me...”
She hit the number to end and save the message, cutting Jefferson off in midsentence. She didn’t have the strength to deal with him yet, so the best thing she could do was put him off. Tomorrow she would play the message again and see if the sound of his voice didn’t make her cringe, make her think of reporters, cameras and fake smiles. Everything politics was and everything she was not. For now she had to admit she was a little oversensitive.