Blood Price (The Blankenships Book 5) (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

The next few hours were full of bustle. Sophia not only got down Alex
’s spare luggage, she seemed deeply offended when Zoey suggested that she would be able to pack her own things. “Just let me know what you need,” Sophia said. “I’ll take care of it.”

In a way, it was the most boggling question Zoey had ever been asked. “I—guess I don’t really know? I’ll need my electronics, of course, but Alex didn’t say how long we were staying, and I don’t know if I’m going to be playing tourist while he works, or if we’re going to—uh—be going places together…”

She glanced at the older woman, expecting to see an irritated expression on her face. Instead, she looked beyond delighted. “I’ll call ahead,” Sophia said. “No, better. I’ll call Christopher. He’s been irritated that Alex has been shopping in thrift stores again, he’ll love a project.”

“Christopher?”

Sophia glanced back at Zoey, something a little bit cautious in her eyes. “Mr. Blankenship’s shopper.”

Zoey closed her eyes, took a breath, and then made herself open them again. “Alex has—what, a guy who does his shopping for him?”

“For some things, yes.”

“But Christopher doesn’t do thrift stores?”

“Christopher would. In fact, I think Christopher would love the challenge. But Mr. Blankenship says he enjoys the experience.”

“You don’t believe him?”

Sophia smiled, and didn’t say anything. “Your electronics, then, and the charging cables of course. What else?”

Crossing her arms and popping her hip would be immature. She stopped herself from doing it. Mostly. “I don’t know. You seem to have a better idea than I do; why don’t I just let you handle it?”

And she realized, in that moment, that Sophia had just gotten exactly what she wanted. The older woman presented Zoey with a beatific smile and a nod that managed to communicate just how easily Zoey had been out maneuvered. “As you say,” she said, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Claire found Zoey, not long after that. “Everything okay?”

Zoey nodded. “Somethings going on in the London firm, I guess, so we’re going to go to London to sort it out.”

“Fancy,” Claire said, smiling. “I haven’t been to London in ages.”

“I’ve never been.”

Claire gave Zoey one of those long looks that she was starting to become very familiar with in this house. She restrained herself from sighing. “Do you like Indian food?”

“Sure,” Zoey said. “Why?”

“Alex loves it. He’s probably going to try to impress you and take you to all these fancy places, but there’s this little place on Kensington High Street. It’s his favorite, and the food’s completely amazing.” Claire had stuck her hands into her back pockets, and she reached forward with an elbow, gently bumping Zoey where she stood. “I like having you around,” Claire said, her voice quiet and soft. “I know I said it before, but—he likes you. A lot. He is gentler with you here. Not that he’s ever been really harsh, but he gets so—”

“Businesslike?”

Claire laughed. “Mr. CEO. Yeah. Even when he was in college, being a party-boy, he was so good. Leo and Luke dragged him around with them causing all sorts of trouble, and he went along with it, but he was always aware that it was different for him. Because…” She shrugged, her eyes flicking away.

“I grew up in Louisiana,” Zoey said. “I’ve seen how differently some people get treated, and sometimes folks don’t even realize that they’re doing it.”

Claire nodded slowly. “Mother thought we’d be all set because we were no where near as dark as her. But Daddy—” the girl’s voice choked off. Zoey opened her arms to offer a hug, but Claire took a step back, her hand up. “It doesn’t matter, now. He’s dead. Thank God.” She wiped her eyes, carefully preserving her make-up, and forced a grin onto her face. It didn’t come anywhere close to her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Zoey said. She didn’t know what else to say. What a way to grow up, torn between your mother’s fears for you, and the knowledge that your father had married your mother just to get her money.
I’m sorry
was woefully inadequate, but it was the best she had.

Claire gave a fluid shrug. “No harm done,” she lied. “Enjoy London. I’m going to get some rest. Back to school tomorrow!”

She turned and disappeared down the hall towards her room in the penthouse. It wasn’t even eight o’clock, but Zoey didn’t think anything good would come from pointing that out.

Alex let her know that they had a flight booked for very early in the morning. He suggested that she get a few hours sleep now, and he’d wake her in time to leave for the airport. She nodded, kissed him, and thought about asking if he was going to join her. But his face was distant and focused on something else, and she was afraid of trying to interrupt. She was afraid she’d try and be rebuffed. It wasn’t something she wanted to see, not yet.

She didn’t manage to sleep well. She was caught up in tangled and confused dreams where she was running away from something she couldn’t see clearly. She woke, tangled in the sheets, with the sense that she’d just screamed. A hand lay on her shoulder, too tight, and she heard a little screech from her mouth as she tried to brush it away, the cobwebs of her dreams still clinging to her.

And then Alex was there, close and in her face, gripping both her shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice quiet and careful. “You’re okay. It was a bad dream.”

She flung herself into his arms like a child, the angle awkward, sobs twisting her face. He held her carefully, stroking her back with a softness that somehow encouraged her to relax without making her feel like he needed her upset to stop for his benefit.

Slowly, she calmed, relaxing in his arms. “What happened?” he asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t remember the dream,” she said. “Someone was hurt. Someone was hurt, and we had to run. That’s all.”

“It’s over now,” he said. “We don’t have to run.”

But the twins do.
The thought came to her, entirely unbidden. She shivered.

“It’s time to go,” he said. “Are you ready to get dressed?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I need to make a quick phone call.”

“Is it something you can do from the car?”

“Okay. Yes, that’s fine.”

She pulled herself out of the plush, warm bed, went to the bathroom to pee, and then got dressed. Someone had already brought their luggage down to the waiting car, and Sophia had laid out the jeans and teal sweater that Alex had bought her, along with the brilliantly red lingerie.

It was interesting, this life where you could afford to have other people do so much of your thinking for you. Mind boggling, even. No wonder the super rich could afford to sit around and just dream up ways to become richer. They didn’t have to worry about the details that the rest of the world had to consider, like making meals or grocery shopping or picking out their own clothing. Or paying rent, for that matter. It would be easy to be resentful of the differences between her life and Alex’s, she thought to herself. It would be easy to regret the choices she was making now, and let them come between the two of them. Because what did she really have to offer him that he couldn’t find in a dozen other women? Two dozen. All of whom would look better in society, and be more accustomed to this life, and who wouldn’t irritate the housekeeper by trying to wash her own dishes.

She pushed away the gloomy thoughts, telling herself that they were just part of the nightmare he’d woken her from, and followed him down to the car. Once they’d settled, he rolled up the screen that separated them from David, and glanced at her. “If it’s private,” he said, “I’m happy to put in headphones or something.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, as she tapped in Helen’s phone number.

Helen answered on the third ring, her voice muzzy. “Luv, you’re amazing, but if this isn’t due to either a spectacular breakup or a wedding proposal, I reserve the right to hang up on you.”

“Neither, but don’t hang up,” Zoey replied quickly. She knew Helen well enough to know the woman wasn’t kidding. “I need your help.”

“Give me a second,” Helen said, and the phone made a soft sound, like fabric brushing over the mic. There was a long wait, a sound of water running, and then Helen was back, sounding marginally more awake. “What can I do for you at one in the fucking morning?”

“The cops have the drive,” Zoey said, quickly. She felt Alex’s eyes focused on her, and kept herself from looking at him. “I know they’ve accessed it, because they tried to question us about our connection to it. Alex’s lawyers stopped them, and we’re safe, but—”

“But you need to know what’s on the drive. Because of the kids.”

“Exactly.”

There was a long pause, and then Helen said, “You know I can’t help you with that. My career would be at stake if I accidentally exposed my sources within the police department.”

“I know,” Zoey said. “And I certainly wouldn’t ask you to do anything to jeopardize your career. I just needed you to know what had happened, after we talked the other day.”

“Thanks for keeping me in the loop,” Helen said. “How’re things with your man? You make up with him?”

Zoey felt her cheeks flush bright red. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Excellent,” Helen said. “I’m going back to bed. Lunch tomorrow so you can tell me all about how he bent you over the foot board?”

“More like I bent him,” she said, and she felt Alex’s gaze on her grow more heated. She fought back the smile that wanted to creep onto her lips. “And I can’t. We’re going to London.”

“Oy oy,” Helen laughed, her accent as sharp as Zoey had ever heard it, “Me old stompin grounds. Tell the boys and girls that Hellion says ta.”

“Will do, sha,” Zoey said, and they disconnected.

“She can’t help?” Alex asked.

“What? Of course she will.” She rolled her eyes at him and grinned.

Alex studied her for a moment, and then smiled himself. “Clever.” He reached out a hand to her. She took it, and let him pull her into his embrace, tucking her under his arm. She had to scooch down a little to fit, but having their heights so close worked out well when they were in bed, so she had found that she didn’t mind. “Question for you,” Alex said, his hand reaching down to tug at the waistband of her jeans. “Did you pick these, or did Sophia?”

“Sophia, I guess,” Zoey said. “They were what was laid out, and you seemed like you were in a rush, so I didn’t want to go digging around. I’m honestly not sure what she packed for me. She wouldn’t let me touch anything, but she said that she was going to be in touch with someone named Christopher?”

Alex shook his head, his expression rueful. “You are going to have a whole new wardrobe waiting for you in London, and it’s not going to be my fault, but I bet I’m going to get blamed.”

“I’m going to what?”

“You’ll see.”

She let it go. He had that tone to his voice, and there was no point in arguing. “What would you have preferred I wear? You bought these for me, after all.”

“And they look wonderful,” he said, his hand sliding lower to cup the curve of her ass. “But if I’d had my druthers, I would have liked something with a little more…access.”

She laughed. “Access for what?”

He gave her a long, almost pitying look. “Did you really think I would fly you to London and not get you a membership to the mile high club?”

“The mile high—” her cheeks were going to burst into flame one of these days if she didn’t watch out. “Are you kidding?”

“No? Why would i be kidding?”

“Sex on an airplane? In those tiny seats? Or those filthy bathrooms?”