Mister Impossible: Bachelor International, Book 3 Page 3

  I gnashed my teeth, dreading making the call. When I was younger and messed up, they would react with a slap to my face, but it had been years since anyone had hit me. I really didn’t want to find out what they’d do now. Again I thought about not telling anyone, but I wasn’t naive enough to think they didn’t have someone watching me.

  “Are you okay?” Piers asked. “You have said nothing for the past few blocks.”

  Damn it. The last thing I needed was to tip Piers off that something was wrong. I plastered on my best smile, hoping it’d been long enough that he wouldn’t see it for the farce it was.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m still not sure this isn’t a dream. I can’t believe it’s really you and we’re actually talking after all this time.”

  His laugh was unexpected. “I find it hard to believe it as well,” he said, using a teasing tone of voice I remembered at once. “But you don’t see me acting like it’s a death sentence.”

  I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I stayed silent. A move he immediately mistook.

  “Listen, Bri,” he said, more seriously. “No pressure. If you don’t want to chat or have dinner, just let me know. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

  I almost laughed at that. Me? Feel obligated to him? Was he high? “No.” I schooled my face, forced myself not to give anything away. “That’s not it at all. I just can’t get over how long it’s been. How are you? Truly?”

  We’d made it back to an area of downtown I recognized, though we were on a street that didn’t look familar. He nodded toward a cozy-looking coffee shop.

  “Let’s find a seat and catch up,” he said. “Prepare yourself. This is going to be the best coffee you’ve ever tasted.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

  He opened the door and waved for me to enter first.

  “Aren’t you going to argue with me?” I asked, walking past him and stepping inside.

  “Why bother?” He grinned. “I’ll let you taste and judge for yourself.”

  His easygoing, borderline joyful demeanor confused me. It wasn’t at all the way I’d imagined him to react to my appearance. Whenever I’d planned this day out in my head, Piers acted hesitant and guarded.

  I mulled his behavior over as he ordered, telling him to just get me whatever. He stood at the counter chatting with a young man, and I went off in search of a table. The place was shockingly crowded for the time of day it was.

  When Piers joined me with two steaming mugs, I’d grabbed a spot in the corner right as the previous patrons left. Piers placed one mug on the table in front of me.

  “I didn’t put anything in it because I remembered you used to like it black, but I can grab you some cream and sugar if you’d like.”

  “How do you remember that after all this time?” I didn’t tell him the reality was I always drank it black because I couldn’t afford cream or sugar. “This is fine.”

  He didn’t make a move toward his own mug, seemingly intent on watching me taste the best coffee ever.

  As if.

  Not wanting to disappoint and looking forward to telling him I’d tasted way better coffee, lots of times in fact, I lifted my mug for a sip.

  “Oh my God,” I said, putting the mug down. “Holy shit, that’s excellent coffee.”

  I hated I couldn’t at least even try to give him a hard time. What could I say? The man was right about the coffee. I took another sip. Across the table, Piers grinned.

  “Okay,” I admitted after my fourth or fifth sip. “You’re right. It is the best coffee I’ve ever had. What kind of bean does he use?”

  Piers shook his head. “He won’t tell me. Says it’s a secret.”

  “It’s so good, but so hard to explain.” I took another sip, trying to determine what made the coffee so different, but so good.

  Piers nodded. “It has to be the beans. The owner roasts them himself.”

  I looked over his shoulder at the young man he’d been talking with earlier. Whoever it was now chatted with a young couple who’d just walked in pushing a stroller. “The guy who took our order?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked again over his shoulder to find the owner had stepped out from behind the counter and had bent down in front of the stroller to talk to the baby. As I watched, all three adults laughed at something. “Is he a friend of yours?” I asked as the man in question stood up and went back to work.

  “Something like that,” Piers said. “But it’s a long story, and not one I feel like diving into today. I’ll tell you later, but right now you’re the only one I want to think and talk about.”

  He spoke in a very by-your-leave-type manner, but something flashed in his eyes when he mentioned the long story. I didn’t dwell on it but made a mental note to ask him about it later. Instead we talked about where the past few years had taken us. I ensured everything I told him matched what I’d told Tenor and Mia. Not that I thought they’d all three get together to compare notes or anything, but it didn’t hurt to play it safe.

  Piers was nothing at all the way I’d imagined he’d be. Based on our history, I’d expected him to be guarded and, more than likely, hesitant to speak about anything. But he was the exact opposite. The entire time we were in the café, he was jovial, funny, and easy to talk with. It didn’t match up at all with how I’d been told he was. The only reason I could come up with to explain the disconnect was that Piers was unaware of how much I knew about him.

  We were just finishing up our second cup of coffee when the phone Piers had placed on the table rang. He picked it up and looked at the display with a frown.

  “I have to take this,” he said, and I nodded.

  I expected him to stand and walk somewhere private, but he didn’t.

  “This is Piers,” he answered.

  I heard someone talking on the other end but not well enough to catch what they said. Based on the expression Piers wore as whoever it was continued, the news wasn’t good. He listened, and when the caller finished speaking, Piers only said, “Give me fifteen.”

  He disconnected with a sigh and looked at me. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to reschedule dinner. One of my clients is in trouble, and I’m needed at the police station.”

  My ears perked up. This could be some juicy information. And if it was juicy enough, my earlier snafu of making contact too soon might be overlooked. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to figure out how to discretely learn the details. “I’m sure the answer is no, but is there anything I can help you do?”

  A smile broke across his face. “How sweet of you to ask, but no. I’m afraid not.”

  I nodded in understanding. “Sticky business issues are sticky. I could tell by the way your face looked when the client called it wouldn’t be good news.”

  Piers stood and started to clean off the table, but stopped when the owner yelled at him to knock it off. Piers waved and held the door open for me. “It wasn’t the client I was talking with on the phone. Let me get you a cab.”

  “No need to hail a cab, I can take the T.”

  “If we had gone out for dinner, I can promise you I wouldn’t have let you ride the subway. Humor me and let me ensure you get home safely.”

  I couldn’t find any way to argue with that, so I allowed him to hail a cab and prepaid my way home. We’d exchanged phone numbers at the café so it wouldn’t be a problem for us to touch base again, but before I left him tonight, I had one more question. Fingers crossed, he’d answer and give me something to pass along and not just look at me as if I’d lost every bit of sense I had.

  “If it wasn’t your client who called,” I asked Piers as he held the back door of the cab open for me, “who was it who told you they were at the police station?”

  “It was his foster mom,” Piers answered and closed the door. “I’ll call you.”

  Chapter 5

  Bri

  Two words echoed in my head the entire ride to my apartment.

  Foster mom.<
br />
  What the hell did that mean?

  Of course I knew what a foster mom was. I just couldn’t match it up with anything having to do with Piers. Why would his client have given his foster mom his corporation’s attorney’s contact information?

  I actually questioned for a moment if Piers was really a business attorney. Stupid, I thought almost as quickly. Of course he was a business attorney. The real question was, what else was he? How many pies did he have fingers in?

  I knew as soon as I walked into what now appeared my bleak and lonely-looking apartment I couldn’t hold off on it any longer. I had to make a phone call.

  “Tell me what I want to hear,” he said, forgoing any common greeting.

  I wished more than anything I could tell him what he wanted. But life doesn’t work like that. Taking a deep breath, I gave the truth of my interaction with Piers.

  “He knew I was following him,” I said, hurriedly adding, “He knew almost immediately someone was tailing him. I don’t know how, but you remember I told you before how good he is?”

  “It appears we may have underestimated Piers.”

  I held my breath. May have underestimated?

  “Are you certain you have what it takes to continue with this assignment?” His voice was calm with no audible ire, but I knew all too well how much of an expert he was at hiding his true feelings.

  “Yes, sir.” I closed my eyes. “Please let me stay on this job.”

  Only silence greeted me as my request, and future, was pondered. Should I bring up the call that usurped our dinner plans? Something told me to hold on to that nugget of information for the time being.

  “Lucky for you,” he finally said. “We’re down a member, and out of those remaining, you are still the one most suited for your current assignment. We can overlook your slip-up this one time, but mess up again and it’ll be doubly bad for you.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Understood, sir.”

  “I’ll let the others know about this wrinkle, and we’ll decide how you are to proceed.”

  I nodded until I realized he wasn’t able to see the gesture. “Thank you, sir.”

  He didn’t respond but rather ended the call.

  I took a deep breath, thankful everything had gone as well as it had. That alone should have lightened my mood, but it didn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Piers and how similar he was to the boy I first met, as opposed to the one who had left me, and who I’d had a part in tracking all these years.

  And I still felt it strange that he acted like nothing had changed between us since the day he left. Even if he wasn’t aware that I knew the truth about how and why he left, I still would have thought he’d act a bit uncomfortable.

  I walked into my living room and sat on the couch. I should put something together for dinner, but between the coffee with Piers and the stress of dreading the phone call, I wasn’t hungry.

  Instead I let myself drift back to the day Piers left me.

  The two of us had been living in a group home. Though there were always upward of twelve kids with us at any given time, Piers and I kept mostly to ourselves. I’d had to stay after school that day for tutoring. I hated math and refused to let Piers help me. He excelled in everything, of course, and I didn’t want him to think less of me because I struggled with something that came so easily to him. He’d never do such a thing, but I’d still rather stay after for tutoring.

  I’d had to walk home after tutoring, and as I made my way down the street where the group home was, my stomach began to ache. Not the type of ache that followed a meal not settling right, but the kind warning you something wasn’t right.

  The ache intensified when I walked inside. Normally, Piers would be in the big room downstairs waiting for me, just as I’d be in the same spot waiting for him if the roles were reversed. I looked around, which was kind of stupid because at thirteen, he already towered over almost everyone. It wasn’t as if he could hide very well.

  Ms. Schmidt, the housekeeper, walked by as I stood there. She saw me, and I noticed she had the weirdest expression covering her face. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she either looked mad or irritated, and I’m pretty sure my mouth nearly hit the floor before I could stop it.

  Before either of us could say anything, a door to the side of the big room opened, and Mr. Carlton Newsome, the group home director, walked in. I didn’t like him and tried my best to stay as far away from him as possible. It was strange for him to be seen out and about so early. Usually it was well after six before he’d grace us with his presence.

  “There you are,” he said when he saw me. “I just got off the phone with the school. They said you were walking back.”

  He’d called the school because I was late getting home today? I couldn’t think of why he’d care. He never had before.

  “Come into my office. We need to talk,” he said at my silence.

  I couldn’t for the life of me come up with one reason that would be the case, but I followed him anyway. To get to his office, we had to pass the kitchen. As normal, several of the house’s residents were sitting at the large table the room boasted, doing homework. They all stopped what they were doing to watch as I went by with Mr. Newsome. On a normal day, I’d have stuck my tongue out at them, but with every step I took closer to the office, the thought that something was really, really wrong only increased, as did the ache in my stomach.

  I didn’t see Piers anywhere.

  For a split second, I thought about running off. I didn’t know where I’d run to, but at the moment, any place was better than my current location.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Mr. Newsome’s hand came down to rest on my nape. I schooled myself not to flinch, but I must have made some sort of noise because the fingers at my neck tightened.

  Damn. That was going to leave a bruise.

  He all but tossed me into his office, pointing at a ratty chair. “Sit down and don’t move.”

  I sat.

  Mr. Newsome kept his eyes on me but said nothing until he took his own place behind the large wooden desk. “I’ll get right to the point. Piers Worthington is no longer a resident here.”

  “What?”

  “He left a little over an hour ago. Said he’d been offered a scholarship or something at some fancy school.”

  I knew about the offer. He’d told me as soon as the letter arrived, but he’d also told me he wouldn’t accept unless he could work out some way for me to go as well. I’d filled out an application at the same school for my own scholarship. The last time we’d talked about it, he said all the details were almost all in place, and decisions would be out soon.

  I tilted my head, knowing I couldn’t have heard correctly. “What about me?”

  Mr. Newsome raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”

  “Piers said nothing about me going?” I felt like a little kid asking, but I had to. Even as the question left my mouth, dread and fear joined the ache in my stomach.

  “Go with him?” Mr. Newsome laughed. “You? You who has to stay late at the school you’re at because you’re so stupid you can’t do simple math? No, your name wasn’t brought up once in the conversation. He actually said he was ready to go somewhere new and start over. Said it’d be nice to lose the baggage of his past.”

  The baggage of his past.

  He could only mean me. My stomach revolted, not wanting to believe what Mr. Newsome said. Or maybe deep inside part of me knew it had happened exactly that way.

  I turned and ran to the closest bathroom. When my stomach was empty, I sat on the cold stone floor, unable to find the energy to stand.

  Piers didn’t want me. He’d left without me, and he’d left me here alone. How could I live without him?

  I shook my head at the weak girl I had been. I might have thought I didn’t know how to live without Piers, but I soon learned. Never forgotten, though, was how it felt to know the world as I knew it had been leveled.

  Remembering the past along with that h
opeless feeling reminded me of what my purpose here was. To ensure Piers felt the same things and to know that I’d been the one to level him.

  Chapter 6

  Piers

  Bri sounded somewhat off when I called her later that night after I finally made it home from the police station. I didn’t think she’d be the type of woman to get angry or pout because I had to break a date in order to help someone in need, but you never could tell. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t had time to explain why a foster mom would call me in the first place.

  But no matter. She agreed to meet me for dinner the next night, and frankly, that was all I cared about at the moment. She asked if we should plan to meet up in the lobby of her building. It made sense why she would ask. It was the building she worked in, and she probably assumed I did as well since she had spotted me coming out of the elevator.

  Even though I had no plans to visit either Mia or Tenor anytime soon, and though the office I worked out of most of the time was located across town, I agreed. After all, what was dealing with congested traffic when compared to sitting down and having dinner with the woman who left me years ago when we were both kids?

  I’d acted like we’d parted on happy terms or at least that I hadn’t been bothered by how easy it had been for her to leave me behind like yesterday’s garbage. Number one, because I’d never experienced anything good coming from rehashing the past. And number two, because I didn’t want her to know how much it still bothered me.

  The fact was it did bother me, and it was a bit upsetting that she seemed completely unaffected by the entire thing.

  As I drove to meet her the next day, while stuck in traffic, of course, I recalled the day I was told she’d left me without as much as a by-your-leave.

  Bri had told me during lunch that she had to stay after school for a meeting. I simply nodded and said I’d see her when she made it home. I had a pretty good suspicion that her meeting was with a math tutor. For the life of me, I wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t ask me for help. It wasn’t like it would be a surprise for me to know how much she struggled with math. She had to know I’d do anything for her.