Needing Her Page 10

  Jack’s telecommunications company doesn’t just deal with telephone lines. They also make equipment used to spy on people. His company is one of the leading producers of this type of equipment and has all the latest technology. That’s why Jack’s so useful to our group. I’m sure if the rules allowed it, the other members would try to take away his membership, but that’ll never happen. They need him in order to access his company and its technology.

  “I wouldn’t call it a date,” I say.

  He chuckles. “Yes, I know what it was. Are the associates not good enough for you? Or did you just want to try something new?”

  This is an example of what the other members would consider to be inappropriate conversation to be having over lunch, but I don’t mind. Jack is who he is and you can’t change him. I find him rather humorous.

  “She found me sitting at the bar and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  He winks. “I’m sure you could’ve fought her off if you tried.”

  I smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “It’s hard to turn down a beautiful woman, isn’t it?” He swigs his scotch.

  I panic, thinking his question implies he knows about Rachel. If he saw me with Rielle, did he also see me with Rachel? What if he’s spying on me?

  “Rielle is a very beautiful woman,” he says. “Far too young for me, but I’m sure she’s very appealing to a man your age.”

  “I’m not seeing her again. It was a one-time thing.”

  Jack wipes his mouth and chin with his white cloth napkin, then sets it on the table. “There’s a meeting this Saturday.”

  Again, I find his rapid change of topics amusing. From sex to meetings without any kind of transition.

  “Yes, I received the call. Do you know what’s on the agenda?”

  “The usual. Nothing too exciting. Things are typically slow when we’re this far out from an election. But slow is good in our line of work.” He picks up his plate and sets it on the tray next to us. Then he goes to take mine. “Are you finished?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He adds my plate to the tray.

  I watch him, noticing how his mood changed just now. It became dark and somewhat regretful. When he said things were slow, he means we aren’t as busy trying to cover things up or take care of people who see too much. Even though he’s done it for years, I can tell Jack isn’t comfortable doing the things they make him do. That’s why I like him. He seems to have maintained that part of himself that many of the members have lost. The human side. The side that feels emotion. The side that sees people as people and not just problems that have to be taken care of. Before I met Jack, I thought I would someday lose that side of myself. I could feel it slipping away. But after meeting Jack, I realized that if he can keep that side of himself alive after all these years, maybe I could too. Because I don’t want to lose it. If I do, I’ll become my father, and my worst fear is becoming him.

  “Do you have any questions for me?” Jack asks.

  “No. Sorry, I should’ve been more prepared.”

  “Nonsense. You didn’t need to prepare anything. I was just asking if you had any questions.”

  “I guess I do have one.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I try to figure out how to say this without offending him. I’m only asking because I find it odd that every time we meet we just make small talk. We never really discuss anything.

  “My father mentioned that mentors generally go over specifics on how to best complete an assignment.”

  “You’ve already had assignments and carried them out successfully.” He swishes his drink around in the glass, the ice clanging against it. “So what do you need to know?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking you. My father said something about the rules regarding assignments. I wasn’t sure what he meant.”

  “Here are the rules.” Jack drinks the last of his scotch, then sets the glass down. “You hire competent people. You tell them what to do. You confirm that it was done. Then you pay them. That’s all you need to know.” He sits back in his chair.

  He’s right. It really is that simple and yet my father makes it sound so complicated.

  Jack leans forward again. “Pearce, we may not know each other that well, but I think you’ve figured out that I take a rather unconventional approach to things.”

  I nod, trying not to laugh.

  “As your mentor, I will be teaching you things the other members don’t teach their students. I do things differently than they do. Any other member would teach you the rules and how to follow them, but that’s not what I’m going to do. I don’t like the rules. I never have. Fuck the rules.”

  I can’t believe he said that. My father lives by those rules. If he heard Jack say that just now, he’d tell the organization and make sure Jack was punished.

  “Are you going to finish that?” Jack points to my scotch, which I haven’t drank.

  “No, it’s a little early in the day to—”

  “Another rule.” He reaches over and takes my scotch. “Who was the idiot who made that rule about no drinking before five?” He swigs the scotch. All of it. Then he slams the glass down on the table and sits back. “First thing you need to know? Rules are made to be broken.”

  “If you break them, they punish you.”

  “I didn’t say to break all of them. You pick and choose which rules to follow. And when you break one, you make sure they never find out.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “We’ll get to that when the time comes.” He grins just slightly. “As Holton Kensington’s son, I’m sure you won’t be breaking any rules anytime soon. I’m sure that man has beaten you down to the point you don’t dare challenge him or the rules he’s established. Am I correct?”

  I clear my throat and glance away from his stare. “Could you continue, please?”

  “That’s your first mistake.”

  “Mistake?” I look at him and see that his smile has been replaced by a stern, serious expression. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “If you’re going to be strong, you can’t deny your weaknesses. You need to acknowledge them so you can overcome them. And your father is one of your greatest weaknesses.”

  It’s true but I hate admitting it.

  “Pearce. Would you agree?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “My goal as your mentor is to make you strong. To teach you things that will empower you. As a group, Dunamis is all about gaining power and strength so we can continue our dominance over others and control outcomes of important events. But when you think about it, as individual members, we lack the very things we strive so hard to achieve as a group. As individuals we have no power. No control. No strength. Those things are beaten out of us in order to keep us in line. It’s ironic, really.”

  His explanation is true, yet I’d never thought of it that way.

  “We’re soldiers,” he says. “We do as we’re told. We follow orders. We’re not allowed to ask questions. We’re expected to speak only when spoken to. And it will always be that way.”

  “What do you mean when you say you’re going to empower me?”

  “I’m going to teach you to be a fighter. Because if you’re not, you’ll never survive.”

  “Who am I fighting?”

  “Your fellow members. Any one of them could be your enemy at any given time. Even your father could be your enemy. Or me. But your greatest enemy isn’t a person. It’s the organization as a whole. Being part of this group and carrying out your assignments can steal your humanity. But only if you allow it to happen.”

  “What about other enemies? Ones outside Dunamis?”

  He nods. “Yes. You will also learn how to fight outside enemies, but fighting criminals is much easier than fighting the people who claim to be your allies, and a thousand times easier than fighting the enemy that is yourself. Everyone has two sides, Pearce, the good and the bad. Being in this business
, the bad tends to win out unless you fight it. Some of us have, and we’ve survived with both sides still intact. Others have lost the battle or never even tried fighting it. You seem like a fighter, Pearce. Am I correct?”

  I’m so mesmerized by his words, trying to take them all in, it takes me a moment to respond. “Yes. I want to fight.”

  “Excellent.” He stands up from the table. “I hope you enjoyed your lunch. I need to get back to work. I’ll see you on Saturday. Please see yourself out.”

  And then he leaves. I’m still sitting in the chair trying to his process what he said. As I do, I feel this sense of hope I haven’t felt since finding out about Dunamis. I’ll always be part of this group but I don’t have to become them. I can fight. I can keep alive that part of me I thought was dying.

  Just knowing that, having that tiny glimmer of hope, is like a bright beacon of light in my very dark world.

  CHAPTER TEN

  10

  RACHEL

  My tour with Pearce is at four and it’s now 3:45. I feel nervous. Excited nervous. The kind of nervous that makes your stomach fluttery.

  This is not typical for me. I don’t usually react this way over a guy. But Pearce is not the average guy. I’ve never met someone like him. I’ve never been this attracted to a guy. I’ve never had anyone consume my thoughts this much.

  I’m working the front desk until he gets here. Nobody else is in the museum. Friday afternoons are really slow so I always bring my books and study. We close at 4:30 so after I give Pearce the tour, I’ll just need to lock up and then we can go find something to do before dinner.

  Today isn’t as hot as it was earlier in the week, but it’s still warm outside so I wore another sleeveless dress. This one is fitted, not flared out at the waist. It’s a casual knit dress I got on clearance last year for $10. Total steal. I think nobody wanted it because it’s orange and people have a fear of wearing orange. But with my dark hair and the tan I still have from the summer, the orange looks good on me. I brought a lightweight white sweater to put over my arms in case I get cold later tonight.

  Pearce comes through the door at 3:55. Instead of his usual suit, he has on black dress pants, a white shirt, and a blue silk tie. His ties are gorgeous. I bet they cost a fortune.

  My eyes move up to his face. He shaved this time, probably right before he left to come here. His face is smooth, and as he approaches me, I smell a hint of aftershave or maybe cologne. Whatever it is, it smells really good.

  He looks so hot I’d like to just take a few moments to stare at him, but that would be weird.

  I pop up from my chair and go around the desk. “Welcome to the museum.”

  He smiles. “Thank you. You weren’t kidding. It’s very small.”

  “It’s good to see you again.” I hug him but he just stands there, rigid, his arms at his side. Oh, God, this is awkward. Why did I hug him? Shelby’s right. I need to get control of the hugging thing.

  I release him and step back, my cheeks heating up. “Sorry. I kind of have a hugging problem.”

  He’s still smiling. “It’s not a problem. It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. I’m not used to people hugging me.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I honestly can’t remember the last time someone hugged me. Childhood, maybe?”

  “Are you serious?” He doesn’t answer so I say, “Well, that’s just wrong. Of course, this is coming from someone who hugs everyone. Even the mailman. Even people I don’t know. Anyway, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” He motions me toward him. “Come here. Let’s do it right this time.”

  I step forward and hug him again. This time, he hugs me back. For someone who doesn’t hug much, he’s pretty good.

  When he lets go, I say, “Next time, maybe do it a little tighter.”

  He laughs. “Did you just critique my hug?”

  “No, I’m just making a suggestion. It’s strictly personal preference. I tend to like a tight hug.”

  “The few hugs I’ve had have been very distant hugs, limited to the upper body only. So to me, that was a tight hug.”

  “Okay, well, ready to start the tour?” I walk over to the first display.

  “Get back over here.”

  I look at him, confused. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like not being good at things. I need to do the hug again.”

  I’m trying not to laugh because this is really funny. He’s taking this so seriously. But it’s fine with me. I’ll take another hug. I like being in his arms.

  I hug him again and this time he hugs me tighter. It’s almost perfect, but then he lets go.

  “How was that?” he asks.

  “It was good.” I take his hand and lead him over to the display case. “But next time, don’t let go so soon. Let me, or whatever girl you’re hugging, let go first, and then you can let go.”

  “I wasn’t aware there were so many rules to hugging.” He leans down and talks in my ear. “And just so we’re clear, the only woman I will be hugging is you.”

  I freeze, my fluttery stomach now doing flip flops. He slowly backs away, the scent of his cologne lingering around me. I don’t know if I can do this tour. I’m far too distracted by him.

  I take a moment to collect myself, then motion to the display case. “So this is a Civil War era gun that was used by…” I continue on for the next half hour. Pearce stays engaged the entire time. He asks lots of questions and he even laughs at my ridiculously corny jokes. Those are a big hit with the senior citizens, but I included them on Pearce’s tour to see if he’d laugh. He’s so serious all the time that I like seeing him laugh.

  We’re back at the front desk again. “That concludes the tour. Did you like it?”

  “Yes. It was excellent.” He reaches over and takes a comment card from the box on the desk.

  “You’re filling out a comment card?”

  “I’m going to tell your boss what a stellar job you did.” He sticks the card in his pocket.

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll only be working here a few more months.”

  “Your boss should still be told. Maybe you’ll get a raise.”

  “I doubt it. They can barely afford to pay minimum wage.”

  He gets that serious look again. “They only pay you minimum wage?”

  “I know it’s not much, but I wanted the experience of working at a museum, giving tours. I’m going to apply for a job at the grocery store to get some extra income.” I grab my purse from behind the desk. “I just need to close up and then we can leave.”

  We go outside and I lock the door. “So what should we do? It’s too early for dinner. There’s a park nearby. We could take a walk.”

  He’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Does he not take walks? Or maybe he doesn’t want to walk in his nice clothes.

  “I suppose we could do that,” he says. “Do you mean the park right over there?” He points to it.

  “Yes. We can just leave our cars here.”

  We walk over to the park, which is just a paved walking path surrounded by shade trees and lined with benches. The weather is a lot cooler than it was earlier and there’s a light breeze. It’s finally starting to feel like fall.

  As we stroll through the park, I tell Pearce about a tour I gave this morning to a group of first graders.

  ”When the tour was over, one of the little boys came up to me and told me I was pretty and gave me a lollipop from his pocket. It wasn’t wrapped so it was covered with lint and who knows what else, but I took it because he really wanted me to have it. And then he asked if I’d go to the movies with him.”

  “Did you tell him you already had a date for tonight?”

  “No, but I did refocus his attention on one of the girls from the class who had her eye on him the entire tour. The little girl reminded me of my sister. She was always looking at boys.”

  “Where does your sister live? Is she still in
Indiana?”

  “No. She died when she was six. She had leukemia.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “We were twins. We did everything together. When she was gone, I felt like she took half of me with her.” I wipe the corners of my eyes. Even today, I still tear up when I talk about her. I don’t want to bring the mood down so I force out a smile and say, “Sorry. Being with all those kids today just reminded me of her.”

  We’re still walking, but we’ve slowed our pace. I feel Pearce’s hand brush against mine and I glance over at him. He’s looking at me with the sweetest, most caring expression. Like he senses the pain that still lingers inside me from the loss of my sister and wishes he could make it go away. He notices me watching him, and looks away, but his hand wraps gently around mine as we continue walking down the tree-lined path.

  In the short time I’ve spent with him, I’ve learned Pearce is very reserved with his feelings. I think he’s more comfortable expressing himself without words, which he did just now by holding my hand. It’s such a small gesture, but I felt like it meant something. Like he was telling me he cares. And to me it was better than words.

  We’re quiet after that, and I like the silence. I like just walking beside him, hand-in-hand, listening to the leaves rustle around our feet. It doesn’t feel awkward or strange that we’re not talking. It’s like when you know someone so well that you can be together without words having to be spoken. But given that we just met, it’s surprising that we’re already this comfortable with each other.

  When we reach the end of the park, we walk back. This time we talk, but not about anything serious. Just random things. And then he suddenly stops and leads me off to the side. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he leans down and kisses me.