Deception (Infidelity #3)

As I rode upward, my mind drifted to Jocelyn. Since Charli, I found myself thinking of my first wife with more appreciation and less sadness. With each day, the guilt over her death lessened as the gratitude for the time we shared strengthened. Jocelyn and I had both been so young. Fresh out of grad school, we thought we had all the answers when in reality we had much to learn.

I was ambitious and strived to show not only Oren, but also the world what I could accomplish. In that process, I’d neglected her. I’d pushed her to fight for my attention, causing me to do what no husband should do.

I’d reacted instead of responded.

I’d failed her.

Her death would forever be on my hands and my heart, but maybe, with Charli beside me, I could rise above it. Maybe Jo could smile down and wish me the happiness that since her death I’d deemed myself unworthy of having.

In the quiet elevator, I said a silent thank-you. “Thank you, Jo, for showing me the man I should be. You’ll always be part of me. I’m sorry that I wasn’t that man for you.” I hung my head, keeping tears at bay. “I’ll always regret the consequences of my decisions.” I took a deep breath. “But in the end, because of you, I know that I’ll do everything possible not to let that happen again.”

As the doors opened, I blinked away the past.

The corridor was quiet since it was after midnight. I had no intention of waking the entire floor; however, I knew that Charli was here. She didn’t know I was coming, and since landing, I’d been unable to reach her. That didn’t matter. When she didn’t answer, I checked the new app Deloris had installed on my phone. The GPS tracker in Charli’s new necklace indicated that she was in Patrick’s apartment. A quick call to Clayton confirmed her location.

It did my heart and mind good to know that she was still where she’d promised she would be. That was one of the many things I loved about Charli. She was young, but she wasn’t immature. She didn’t play games. She knew how important it was to me to know that she was safe. Even when she’d walked out of the apartment, she’d gone with Jerrod.

She’d also given me the opportunity to explain. I’d been the one who needed time. I still needed time, and thankfully, being the amazing woman she was, Charli was giving it to me.

If I were completely honest with myself, I understood Charli’s desire to be with her cousin. After everything that had happened in the last few days, she didn’t want to be alone in our apartment, the place where someone—someone she’d trusted, someone I’d told her she could trust—had betrayed her. Betrayed us. If being with Patrick gave her the comfort she needed, then that was where she should be.

Her choice of location was inconsequential. As long as she was wearing the necklace, Deloris had more than Clayton assuring her safety. After all, her well-being, both physical and emotional, was my goal.

As I neared Patrick’s apartment, my arms ached with the desire to be the one to give Charli everything that she needed for her to feel safe.

During our conversation about Chelsea, Charli sounded heartbroken and confused. All I could get was that Chelsea had repeatedly apologized, saying that she’d never meant to hurt her. According to Charli, Chelsea had been nearly incoherent, crying and slurring her words.

Charli didn’t get anything else from the conversation. She couldn’t even figure out her best friend’s location. Was Chelsea in DC? That was why Charli had called. I was there, and she asked if I could find Chelsea.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy.

It wasn’t like Chelsea wore a GPS necklace.

It was true that I knew more about her friend than I let on, that Chelsea was working for Infidelity, had not been assigned to Severus Davis as we’d planned, and was quite possibly assigned to someone else—I didn’t know who or where.

Though I couldn’t tell Charli that Deloris was working to unravel the Infidelity web of deceit and free Chelsea. I could say that we were doing our best to find her friend.

Softly, my knuckles rapped on Patrick’s door. A moment later, it opened, and Patrick’s tired, light brown eyes peered from around the door. “She’s asleep,” he said as he opened the door wider.

“I figured. Sorry I woke you.” I’d called his number after speaking to Clayton.

My gaze scanned Charli’s cousin from head to toe. His middle-of-the-night persona didn’t match his usual demeanor. Normally, Patrick was the epitome of chic, dressed to the T with a cocky kind of attitude that made you smile in approval and admiration, not turn away in disgust. In the short time I’d known him, I’d come to enjoy his gregariousness. However, in the middle of the night, wearing only an old faded Beatles t-shirt and gym shorts, he looked like any other guy in a dorm, well apart from his receding hairline. That made him obviously older than a coed.

I noticed the way his chest stayed inflated as he scanned me and shut the door.

“Sleep’s overrated,” Patrick said as he led me into his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been inside his apartment. Charli had brought me here to meet him and Cyrus. The building where they lived was nice, more modern than mine, more so than most in the area. Currently the lights in his living room and entry were low and the windows were covered. During the day, I recalled that the apartment had a great view of the park.

It hadn’t taken Deloris long to learn that Cyrus was in investment banking and Patrick was an interior design intern. Between the two of them, they were obviously doing well. I also knew how their relationship began. According to Deloris, they were on their second year of their agreement. I couldn’t fault them for their part in Infidelity. Maybe the company did have its benefits.

“Alex was pretty upset about Chelsea,” Patrick volunteered. “I have no idea what’s going on with her and neither does Alex. After Chelsea called, Alex tried but she couldn’t get Chelsea to answer her calls or texts. It’s weird. Before Chelsea’s call, Alex thought her friend was going to be here, like move to New York, possibly tomorrow…” Patrick shook his head. “…today, I guess. Poor thing, Alex has had a lot thrown at her in the last few months. Losing her best friend wasn’t supposed to be one of them.”

I felt more than a pang of guilt. “I’m responsible for most of what’s been thrown at her.”

Patrick stood taller. “Not the way I see it.”

I let out an exaggerated breath. “Well, I don’t know how you see it.” Since Charli was asleep in the other room, I tried to keep my voice down. “The other day she was in the line of gunfire because of me.”

“The news said that the victim was the intended target, a domestic thing.”

That was what the news said, and I knew how they’d been led in that direction. It was a cover to take the heat off of me, to make Charli’s and my presence at the scene fade away as unimportant background information.

“I can still feel responsible,” I said, turning to take in the semidark living room and wondering which hallway would lead me to my Charli.

“Yes, sure,” Patrick said, bringing my focus back to him, “you can feel responsible. But if you were the cause of more of her heartache…” His tone suddenly became more confident than cocky. “…I wouldn’t have let you in.”

My eyes widened, amused that this little runt thought he could stop me.

“I wouldn’t,” Patrick confirmed, as if reading my thoughts. “You don’t know half the shit she’s put up with in her life. She’s a lot stronger than you think.”

I didn’t know much of her past, but I never doubted her strength. “I think she’s strong.”

“Yet you ran here to rescue her?” Patrick asked. “So that you could tell her what to do?”

What the hell?

It was my turn to stand tall, at least ten inches taller than him. “I’m not rescuing her. I’m not sure what’s happening with Chelsea, but I do know Charli cares about her. I don’t plan to tell her what to do. I’m here to help her.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain my actions to him, but I went on. “I’m here to support your cousin. Help her.”