Return (Matt Turner Series Book 3) (4 page)

Joss cocked her head and squinted, a tiny smirk. “Eh … yeah. It’s fine. I do have to work for a living you know, Matthew.”

Bad opener on Matt’s part. She was right (and merciful in her response, thankfully). Who was Matt to question her choices? Despite their brief childhood interactions, in her mind, Matt would rank only a hair higher than a stranger.

“Please, call me Matt. And sorry. When I saw you up there I was shocked. I assumed he’d conned you into being a guest at this seminar. I had no idea you’d be here at all.”

“Appreciate the concern, but no, no one’s conning me. And people not knowing about me being the special guest? That’s the idea.” She beamed. “Throw them some surprises. Exceed expectations. The ‘today’s special guest’ concept was my idea. As if he gets a different one everywhere he goes. Adds to credibility.”

“Wow, you’re really into this gig, huh? Are you planning to do another?”

“I’m doing all of them. This is our fourth stop. We’re actually partners in this, he and I, in case you’re still thinking he’s taking advantage of me. After he contacted me and we worked out some details, I reorganized the tour from the mess he’d begun, sourced much of the material … Hell, I wrote half of what he said today. I coach him on gestures and timing and such, too. He listens to me. Are you going to sue?” She slid the question in there without so much as a breath. Not even a shift in facial expression.

Matt’s gears turned as he studied her. “No … No interest in a lawsuit.” He glanced into the lobby where Cameron continued watching them through his eyebrows, pretending to be engrossed with signing the books. An idea struck Matt.

“What’s he paying you?”

Joss frowned. “Well, that’s not really any of your business-”

“I’ll double it. Plus benefits. I have a health plan in place already, it covers everything. I think there’s a thing like a 401k, too. Come work for me.”

“Work? You … You don’t even know me. If we’re being honest, we didn’t even know each other twenty
years
ago. What, you just want to ruin Cam? Punish him for using your name and slinging bullshit to sell-out crowds?”

Matt softened his face and set his focus on her eyes. No more glances toward the lobby. “No, I don’t care about him.”

Joss crossed her arms. “I guess I just don’t understand why you would …
care
… about me. I’m a random stranger. Or worse, even. I shouldn’t be any different to you than him.”

Matt offered a small smile. “You are, though. You know you are.” Joss’s eyes wavered at this. Matt turned to go back inside. “Well, it was great to see you either way, and if you happen to change your mind-”

“About working in North Carolina? Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

Matt stopped just before the door. “In Jersey. I don’t live in Raleigh anymore. I was only there because it’s where my sister went to school. You still around Newark?” He gripped the door handle.

“Kearny, yeah, right next door.” She strolled after him. “You know, when I first got my license I used to cruise past your parents’ house every now and then. Never saw you, but I spotted your dad taking out the trash one night.” She paused, remembering in a flash all of the news reports about Cuba, and Matt, and how Detective Turner was murdered. “Sorry about your dad, by the way. How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s good. Thanks.” He left it at that, mentally swatting away the
“Dad”
thing. He waited, watching her face. She obviously wanted to say yes to his offer. He released the door and slid his hands into his shorts’ pockets.

Joss pinched at her dress, rolling the material between her fingers. “So … You said you’d
double
my salary? Like in movies: ‘Whatever they’re payin’ you, I’ll double it!’”

Amused by the voice, Matt said, “I don’t know if I said it like
that
…”

“Which, by the way, you still don’t know. My pay, that is. Guess it’s not a concern. What kind of work are we talking about, exactly?”

“Assistant type stuff. Organization. What you said you do for him.” Faced with the reality of her about to accept his hasty job offer, Matt became aware of his own poor timing. The coming weeks would require all of his focus. And full independence. “Look, I really do have to take off. It sounds like you’ve got a great thing going here, and I didn’t come to throw a wrench in that. Why don’t I give you my number and if you’re ever looking for a change, just reach out-”

“Where are you parked?” She grabbed his arm.

Crap.

“You’re accepting? I mean, that’s great and everything, but-”

“Yup!” Joss dragged him onto the path. “So let’s get the hell out of here.”

There was no backing out now. He’d done it to himself.

Matt pointed a thumb toward the lobby and the books he’d bought. “Okay, well … I have to go back in for a second-”

“Do you?” Joss’s mouth opened and continued rambling for at least twenty seconds: “I’ll wait out here then. I don’t wanna talk to Cam right now. I’m a chicken. I’ll call him when I’m ready, so don’t
you
say anything, okay? And hurry, if you can. Just grab your book and scoot. Or were you planning to talk to him more? I mean, if you were planning to talk to him, of course, do what you’re gonna do, you know? Maybe just ix-nay on the oss-Jay talk, you know? If he asks. Obviously, you don’t need my permission, if that’s what it sounded like I was saying. You’re the boss, right?”

Matt blinked at her.

Joss shook her head and inhaled. A flit of fingers signified either an apology, embarrassment, or perhaps a final, simple
“hurry.”

As Matt’s hand returned to the door handle, Joss added, “We’ll need to stop by my hotel so I can change and get my luggage.”

* * *

Matthew merged onto Interstate 76. The highway bent rightward along the course of a dark green river. As Matthew negotiated the traffic, Joss observed a thin strip of a park across the river—a fleeting patch of green below a backdrop of grayish buildings, large and small. Joggers and bicycle riders followed a bike path flanked by bands of nature. Cam was probably still at the UPenn campus, outside the auditorium, sitting on one of the benches beside the main path, dazed and helpless.

Impulsivity wasn’t some new, unexpected characteristic for her, but Joss was surprised by the magnitude of this particular whim. As far as decisions went, one would probably want to take more than a couple minutes thinking through this sort of
life-
level thing. It wasn’t as though there’d been a ticking-clock-style “now or never” ultimatum dropped in her lap.

Oddly enough, though, sitting in the passenger seat, her purse and a bundle of books in her lap, Joss found her thoughts shifting to Matthew Turner’s car—some generic Ford sedan—as her unforgiveable desertion of Cam withdrew into subconscious shadows. She’d expect a gazillionaire like Matthew to drive some exotic Italian machine.

It was quiet in the car, only the subtle rhythm of an indiscernible rock song spared Joss from the dreadful, nightmarish scenario of an utterly silent drive. New car scent and Matthew’s deodorant or aftershave flavored the cool, air-conditioned space.

Awkward and unsure how or if to break the silence, she directed her attention to the books Matthew had actually bought from Cam. She flipped to the first page of
Psychometry and Matthew Turner
, reading the dedication Cameron’s shaky hand had scrawled.

Dear Matthew,

Real discovery doesn’t come from new landscapes, but seeing with new eyes. We ALL envy you your eyes.

–C. Langley.

Joss felt a stare and caught Matthew sneaking a peek at the book.

His gaze returned to the road. “That’s a pretty atrocious paraphrasing of Proust.” He put on his blinker, checked the blind spots, and changed lanes, all in a peculiar fluid motion.

“Hm.” Unaware that Cam was quoting someone, Joss had thought it a smart, impressive note. “What did he say when you went back in to pick up the books?”

“He just stammered an almost-apology before trying to spit out what I interpreted as an offer to someday collaborate on a book.”

“Ha! No shortage of balls on that man, right? And what did you say?”

“I told him that, despite what would surely grow into an irresistible desire to somehow publicize and profit from our encounter today, that if he kept quiet, I wouldn’t put him out of business and bankrupt him.”

Joss observed Matthew’s profile, his expression unexpectedly neutral. There was no irony in his words. No apparent boasting or self-satisfaction. “That’s it?”

“And that I’d consider giving him a blurb quote he could put on a book cover.”

“Oh, you’ve got him then. He won’t make a peep. On the other hand, expect weekly ‘reminder’ emails for a while, then dailies: ‘Hello good sir! Just checking in …’”

Matthew took the exit ramp for Trenton. “That’s fine.”

Joss aimed her chin ahead, though her eyes remained glued to this man’s face. She didn’t know him personally, but like with many celebrities, she’d assembled from what little she knew of him, a character—timid mannerisms, drifting gaze, whiny speech pattern, a victim—and he exhibited none of these. On the contrary, his demeanor bordered on zenlike, even with the Grand Central Station of thoughts she suspected was buzzing through that head.

Silence lingered as Matthew entered the New Jersey Turnpike.

She couldn’t help but suspect he had second thoughts about bringing her along. She hadn’t exactly given him a choice. The guy had generously offered her a job at a ridiculously high salary, probably expecting her to think it over, and then to either pass on it, or call him in a couple weeks. And now he was stuck in a car with her for at least an hour and a half. That had to be it—he was wondering just what the hell he’d gotten himself into. It’d explain his disconcerting immunity to her quips and energy. He wasn’t even throwing her sympathy smiles. Or maybe she just wasn’t as hilarious as she liked to think.

Joss’s curiosity veered back to the earlier exchange beyond the lobby’s glass doors. Was there no mention of her from either of them? Had Cam been so petrified that he’d been afraid to ask Matthew about her? Or perhaps he thought she and Matthew were simply heading off to grab some coffee and do some catching-up.

She decided to wait for Matthew to speak. If he preferred a quiet car (as all evidence appeared to suggest!), then she’d control herself. Deal with it. Not be annoying. Reject the compulsion to fill the air. Yes,
he
would need to initiate a conversation.

Nope. Can’t do it.

“Cam’s probably crapping his pants imagining what I’m revealing to you.”

“Possibly,” Matthew replied without pause. “May I see that first book there for a moment?”

She passed it to him and he set it on his lap, laying his free hand atop the dust-jacketed cover. He continued driving in silence.

“Are you-” Joss began, gripping the passenger door handle. “Are you
reading
it? While
driving?
”

“Yes. It’s okay though. Just needed to see something.” He handed it back to her.

“See something? Um, was it what I look like when I’m
flipping out?
” She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Is that what you needed to see?”

“Sorry if that worried you,” he said.

She shrugged it off with a
what,
me, worry?
smile. “Yeah, no … I mean, it’s not a big deal. I was kidding. You know, just being dramatic.”

He nodded understanding. Blank, humorless. Comprehension achieved. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, as if to place a time stamp on this new data.

This was a broken man. This was where the kind of trauma he’d gone through eventually led.

Matthew continued, “Langley wasn’t thinking about you, but that was then. You should probably fill him in. Best to not leave him hanging.”

“Sure. Right.”

Joss realized an instant too late that her sly side-stare had shifted to a full-facing stare. He felt the look or spotted her peripherally, and glanced her way. Busted, she shot her attention through the passenger side window, where a blur of guardrails and trees offered a less-than-riveting view. Not true. A tiny, warped version of him vibrated in the side mirror. No details, but she could at least see his eyes were on the road ahead.

Now she felt stupid. Why the hell was she acting like this? Was she actually starstruck, or was it just a natural response to the guy acting like a robot?

Matthew broke the silence again. “You can ask me almost anything, you know.”

Is that so?

“Reading minds in real-time these days, huh?”

His focus held on the highway.

Joss couldn’t let the invitation linger. He’d opened the door. “Anything, eh-?”

The quiet music muted and a ringtone replaced it in the speakers. Matthew glanced at the screen on the dashboard and Joss followed his eyes.

Incoming Call: Unknown Number

He mulled through a second ring, scratching the steering wheel with his thumbs as his eyes alternated between the road and display. A third ring, and he finally pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

A man’s voice filled the car; a faint accent—perhaps Russian—spoke through every speaker. “Mr. Turner?”

Matthew grimaced and mouthed a silent obscenity. He bounced the back of his head against his seat’s headrest.

Shaking his head, he spoke with casual curiosity. “Who’s calling, please?”

He turned to Joss and mouthed,
“Markus.”

“This is Markus, Matthew. Do you have a moment?”

Matthew decelerated, pulling behind a tractor-trailer in the slow lane. “Markus? Oh … wow, um … No idea how you got this number, but go ahead, Markus.”

“Is this a speakerphone, Matthew?”

Joss instinctively pointed her eyes to the passing Pennsylvania trees, as if this ensured privacy.

“It is,” Matthew said, now with shades of defiance. “I’m driving. Go ahead.”

“It’s good to hear that you’re well enough to drive, Matthew. Mr. Ostrovsky will be delighted to receive this news, and perhaps my call will therefore not be in vain. Mr. Ostrovsky doesn’t know what occupies or motivates you these days, but I’ve been authorized to offer three forms of imbursement in exchange for your time and efforts.”