Page 18 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)
Portia’s assistant waved Ash through the moment he stepped off the elevator. He studied her expression as he passed, but she was already focused back on her task. His stomach was a mass of knots as he pushed open the doors to the inner sanctum.
The head of Tremaine Corporation sat at her desk, her attention focused on the computer screen on her desk. He might have laughed that she was ignoring him so studiously, but sending security guards to pull him out of his shift had knocked him off-kilter.
“You didn’t show up for your shift.” Though she still didn’t look at him, the chill in her voice indicated that he had the full attention of the Ice Queen.
His brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes, I did. That’s where I was when Security found me.”
“ This shift,” Portia said. “The project you’re supposed to be working on for me.”
That’s what this was about?
“We never discussed an actual schedule,” Ash countered carefully.
“I told you to make this a priority.” She looked up, her blue gaze piercing him.
He still feared what she could do to him, but he wasn’t going to take the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. “You never told me not to show up for my usual shift on cybersecurity either.”
Instead of taking his seat at the desk she’d procured for him since their last meeting, he sat in the chair in front of her desk. A small rebellion, but he wasn’t falling into the role of Portia Tremaine’s personal hacker until they set some expectations. He couldn’t afford to piss her off, but he also couldn’t allow Security to pull him away from other activities, like freeing his sister.
“Am I going to be working here all the time?”
Portia cocked her head, thinking over his question.
Before she could say anything, he continued. “I can’t tell anyone what I’m doing, but you’re not worried about how it will look?”
She blinked. “What do you mean, ‘how it will look’?”
He had to carefully tread the line between convincing her and not pissing her off. “Well, if I’m supposed to keep this super-secret project super-secret, people are going to wonder what I’m doing in here all day long with you.”
“They’ll just think you’re working for me.” Her tone said she thought he was an idiot.
“Sure, some of them might believe I’m working for you. Others might think I’m ‘working.’” He put air quotes around the word.
“What?” She paused. He saw the moment his meaning registered. “Ew!” She reared back.
“Wow, I’m offended,” he said before he recalled that he wasn’t talking to his team but to the woman who held his sister’s life in her hands.
“You’re joking, right? No one could possibly think that you and I would possibly...” She waved her hand between them.
Yeah, he was offended. She probably didn’t mean it that way—and he wasn’t interested either—but it still stung. “Why not? I’m a decent-looking guy and you’re a lonely widow.”
Horror, shock, and sadness flickered over her face in quick succession.
It was the sadness that cut him to the core. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” For all he wanted to poke at her, his apology was sincere. Especially since her loss was partially his fault. “I shouldn’t have said that. But there are people who will.”
She turned away to look out the window, but not before he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Her pain pricked his conscience. He couldn’t afford to feel badly for her—but he did.
The silence between them grew and Ash made no move to break it. Let her have all the time she needed to patch the cracks in her armor. “What do you suggest?” she asked finally.
“Since I’m supposed to be looking for the person who helped your father’s assistant,” his stomach turned at the words, “I should probably spend part of my time out there. If anyone asks, I can just tell them that I’m working on a special project for you. If they want to know more, I’ll direct them to you. That should be the end of that.” He chuckled darkly.
She seemed to be considering his words.
The silence finally got to him and he blurted out the question he’d been dying to ask since she called him to her office and demanded his assistance. “Why haven’t you just asked Leopold Brunswick who helped him?” Her father’s weaselly assistant had struck him as the kind of man willing to sacrifice anyone for his own gains. Just look at the New Amsterdam Hotel bombing.
Portia blinked at him as she processed the change of subject. “Do you really think I didn’t? He was asked several times,” and the way she said “asked” sent shivers up Ash’s spine, “but he never broke. Said it would be a cold day in hell before he helped a Tremaine.”
Ash grimaced, but was still grateful that the other man was stronger. No, not stronger. More vindictive than Ash could have imagined. “You don’t think he’ll eventually, um, change his mind?”
“No, I’m quite certain that he won’t. Leopold Brunswick is dead.” An emotion he couldn’t identify threaded through her voice.
Shock—and was that actual fear?—coursed through him as he recognized how much more dangerous the game he was playing had just become. “You killed him?” Did his voice just squeak?
Her cool gaze and even cooler voice chilled the air between them. “Do you really think I would stoop to murder, Mr. Cutter?”
She paused longer this time, obviously waiting for a response. “Um, no?” Yeah, that was definitely a squeak.
Her smile was all Ice Queen and he shivered. “No, I did not kill Leopold Brunswick. Someone else did. And when I find that person... they’ll wish they hadn’t done that.”
Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Goosebumps covered his arms. He didn’t want to imagine what she would do to him when she found out he had helped Brunswick. That was why he had needed the Jack’s help. He had to get himself and Hope out of Portia’s reach before she found out. But then he’d gone and fucked that up.
“That’s, uh...” What the fuck did he say to that?
“Not truly a loss in the greater scheme of things.”
Cold. Ice cold. Then again, the man had tried to kill her, had likely killed her father, and had definitely killed her husband.
“Did you ever meet him?”
Ash swallowed hard. “Brunswick?” How was he supposed to answer that?
“Mm hmm.”
Her gaze was like a weight. Or maybe that was all the secrets he was keeping.
He cleared his throat. “I think so. Maybe. He came down to watch us in the cybersecurity room sometimes. Like he was inspecting us or something. I don’t think we actually ever met him. Like officially.”
Portia nodded. “That sounds like something he would do. He was always trying to be more important than he was. He wasn’t a Tremaine, but he wanted to be one.”
“That’s... interesting.”
Ash had never wanted to be a Tremaine. There was too much structure, too many downsides of running a big company, but he wouldn’t mind the money upside. Ever since he and Hope had been left to manage on their own, thoughts of money and survival had been his constant companions. Until he’d been captured and freedom became more important.
Portia’s laugh was bitter. “No, it’s not. My father was never going to relinquish the company. Not to me and not to his assistant. He thought he would live forever. Now he’s gone and I’m... here.”
Alone. That was what Ash heard. Portia was the last Tremaine left. Unless you counted Dizzie, which neither woman seemed inclined to do.
“I’ll expect you here every afternoon after your morning shift.” The change of subject made his head spin. “Do not keep me waiting—either for your shift or for the information I want.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ash dipped his head in acknowledgment. Then, because he couldn’t afford for her to be suspicious of him, he got up and moved to his desk.
Several hours later, Ash logged off, then stood and stretched. The setup wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one he used in the cybersecurity room, but it was better than the first desk she’d had installed.
Portia remained at her desk. Behind her, the cityscape had shifted from gray autumn sky to neon lights that shimmered through the raindrops on the windows.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my room. It’s end of shift.”
She raised her head. In the pale glow from her screen, her skin looked even paler. “Really?”
His head dropped back and he couldn’t contain his sigh. “Look. I understand this project is important. But I am not my computer.” His hand twitched and he shut down the urge to rub his port. “I need food and I need sleep or I’m going to be useless to you and to the company.”
His days of living on caffeine and cheesy orange snacks were long gone. Not that he’d had either while working today. He hadn’t eaten, period. His stomach rumbled, the sound loud in the quiet room.
“Very well,” Portia said and returned to her work.
“Do you,” he waved toward the door, “want me to bring you food or something?”
What the hell was he doing? He needed to come up with other ways to free Hope. He didn’t have time to bring Portia food. She had thousands of people on her payroll. Any of them could help her out. But she looked so worn that he felt bad for her.
He felt bad for Portia Tremaine? Had the world gone crazy?
Her mouth dropped open and she looked startled for a moment. “No, thank you.” The note of finality in her voice said any other offers would not be appreciated.
“Have a good night.” He turned and exited her office. The lobby area was quiet and slightly eerie, her assistant’s desk empty. That was a surprise. He’d have expected her assistant to work as long as she did.
Not his problem. He pressed the button for the elevator. It had been a long, weird day.
He cracked his neck and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, but he had a lot more work of his own to do tonight. A beer sounded really good right now. As did seeing the Jack. Taryn. What would she do when he called her by her name? Did he dare?
Probably nothing good. He’d been banned from the bar. While that might not stop him at most places, even given the change in management, the Jack was not someone to fuck with.
Pissed that he’d screwed up the best avenue for getting Hope away from the Tremaine Corporation, when the elevator stopped, he strode out at a quick pace. And immediately barreled into someone, knocking them down.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” One of the Tremaine Security guards—the one who’d ridden the elevator up with him that first day—was sprawled on the floor. “Here, let me help.”
She grasped his extended hand and he pulled her upright in one quick movement. “Thanks.” The moment she released his hand, she continued down the hall.
He’d taken a few steps before he realized that she’d pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “What the?—”
Ignoring it until he was well away from the executive elevator and any cameras in its vicinity, Ash ducked around a corner and carefully opened the folded note.
Ban lifted. The bold, broad writing emphasized the order. And it was an order. The Jack was scrawled beneath the command.
What did it mean? Was the Jack going to help? Ash’s heart skipped a beat, and he didn’t look too closely to determine if it was for the prospect of rescuing his sister or for the chance to see Taryn again.