Unspoken Memories (Unspoken Series) (7 page)

“YOU CURRENTLY HAVE 4.3 million
dollars in your account at your disposal Ms. Adams, why do you ask?” a young
gentleman in his early thirties, dressed in a suit, looking every bit the bank
manager that he is, informs me the next morning.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole situation,
but I do know one thing for sure, I wasn’t letting Bill get another dollar
anytime soon.

I’m very sleep deprived, since I didn’t get much of it last
night. I kept going over everything that had happened. It kept me tossing and
turning in my bed, my thoughts going back to Matt.

I look the manager in the eye. “I need two thousand of it in
cash for myself.”

Then I hand a small piece of paper with Frank’s requested
amount and account number over to him. “This amount put into that account
number.” After he takes the first small paper, I hand him another with Matt’s
account number. “The rest is to be transferred into this account number. Both
of which are current accounts here at your facility.”

Eyes wide open, he asks, “What do you mean by the rest,
ma’am?”

I had a feeling this would happen and was prepared for it.

With a strong stern voice, I say emphatically, “I. Mean.
All. Of. What’s. Left,” indicating just how serious I am.

With a horrified look on his face, unbelieving what he’s
heard, he protests, “But, that would mean emptying out your account completely,
ma’am.” His response is just as shocked, as I’m staring him down.

I have a feeling he’s going to play this game with me all
morning if I let him.

“I know. I’m looking at it as a very generous donation to
someone who really needs it. It’s only money,” I say, trying to sound like I
don’t care. “I’m pretty sure with my fiancé being my manager, there will be
plenty more to fill it up again soon,” I say with a sarcastic smile on my face.

He still looks skeptical, but easily gives up.

“Okay,” he states with an apprehensive look, and tries to
hold himself together as well as he can. “I’ll get the documentation for you to
sign, authorizing the transfer.”

He quickly stands up and heads to his office door. Once he’s
left his office, I dig into my purse for my phone and I shoot off a text to
Matt.

I need a favor. A

After a minute, I receive a response.

What’s up? M

I’m going to put some money in your account for
safekeeping. A

Why my account? M

I need someone I could trust, is that you? A

He doesn’t respond immediately, and I’m sitting there
thinking maybe this might be a bad idea after all. But, then I hear the ping of
a response.

Of course, Pinkie Promise. M

That’s when I blank out and I’m suddenly pulled into another
memory. I’m sitting on a bed in a little boy’s room and there is a small child
sitting across from me on the bed. It’s Matt, his eyes are red and swollen,
like he’s been crying for a while, and he’s looking at me with desperation on
his face.

I tell him, “Everything is going to be all right, I’m here
now and I’m never leaving you.”

He stares into my eyes and says, “Promise?”

My response to him, without a doubt is, “Pinkie Promise.”
Holding out my pinkie and locking it with his, I hug him with a force promising
not to let go.

I hear the ping of my phone again, breaking me from the
memory, pulling me back to reality. Why is it that I get these memories like
that, randomly? I’m beginning to appreciate when I was dreaming them, at least
I didn’t spaz out like just did.

You still there? M

Yes. I’m still here, Pinkie Promise. A

Do you need my bank info? M

No, I already have it. A

How the hell did you get it? M

The same guy who gave me your address. ;-) A

As soon as I hit send on the phone, the bank manager walks
back into the office with all the paperwork in hand. I place the phone back
into my purse as he sits back down across from me in his chair. He places a
couple of papers that are in his hand down on top of the mahogany desk in front
of us, then slides them across, directly in front of me, handing me a pen to
use.

This time I’m not stupid. Before signing I begin to read the
fine print, verifying the accounts match the small pieces of paper that he
hands back to me. Right now I don’t trust many people and the last thing I want
is to find out he’s working with Bill. Screwing me over once again. Verifying
that everything matches, I sign away.

Half an hour later, I’ve got two grand in cash, Matt is four
million dollars richer, and I pray he doesn’t screw me over as well.

As I’m walking out of the bank and getting into the car my
cell phone rings. Excited that it might be Matt already calling me about the
money, I dig into my purse and answer right away, without looking at the
screen. But, I’m soon disappointed when I hear another voice at the end of the
line.

“Where are you?” Bill’s tries to sound calm, but even I can
hear the strain coming from his voice.

As the driver is starting to pull away from the curb and
into the mass of downtown traffic, I answer, “Oh, out and about.”

Knowing what Bill’s already going to ask, I notify him. “Yes,
I made sure to bring my babysitter with me,” I say sarcastically.

I’m looking at the driver as I say it and as expected he’s
listening. He glares at me through the rear view mirror as his eyebrows rise
and I know he doesn’t like that I called him my babysitter, but I don’t care.
That’s exactly what he is.

Neither does Bill, apparently. “He’s not your babysitter
Abigail, he’s your bodyguard,” he clips out.

I roll my eyes and think, whatever. You know damn well that
he’s feeding you information. I’m surprised Bill isn’t asking why I was at the
bank, or maybe the babysitter hasn’t informed him yet.

Bill continues, “I have to leave town on a business
emergency, one of my other clients is having problems and I have to head to New
York to take care of it. Are you going to be okay here by yourself?”

What does he think I am, a baby? I might have lost my
memory, but I’m not disabled.

“Of course Bill. It’s not like you’ve been spending much
time with me anyways.”

“I know; I’m sorry about that, baby. I’ve been really caught
up with work lately, but when I get back, we’ll go out to a nice dinner, just
you and me. What do you say?”

Apparently, I am a baby to him. The only thing I can think
right now, is that I don’t want to go anywhere with him, but I don’t want to
give him any clue that I know about him and Susan. So the only thing I can do
is play along.

“Okay, that sounds good,” I lie cheerfully for effect.

“Alright. If you need anything at all, call Susan. Her
number should be programmed in your phone as well. And Abigail, remember you
are not to go anywhere without the bodyguard. You understand?”

Shit, he’s really trying to keep me on a leash. Was he
always this controlling with me, or was he serious about the public? Since I’ve
hauled my bodyguard with me the last two days, I have yet to see a mob, or
anyone, try to approach me. I don’t think they even care who I am, so why the
beefed up security? This is probably his way of keeping tabs on me.

Then he tops it off by saying, “I’ve directed him to stay at
the apartment in one of the guest rooms while I’m gone, that way you will have
him at your disposal, when needed.”

Taking in a deep breath, I’m trying to calm the boiling
blood that is now rising from what he’s said. “Fine, have a safe trip Bill,” I
clip out to him before I end the call.

Great, I was going to use this opportunity to sneak away
back to Portland and spend time with Matt, but I guess that’s going to prove to
be tricky. I hate knowing that I have to sneak around. Bill expects to go out
with his fuck buddy at his convenience while I sit at home acting like the good
little fiancée he wants me to be.

We finally arrive back at the apartment and the first thing
I do is go straight to my room and lock myself in. I sit on the bed and begin
to read the rest of the paperwork that Frank gave me. I discover that the
apartment is in Bill’s name so I can’t exactly kick him out, but it doesn’t
mean I can’t leave. The only problem is where the hell am I supposed to go. I
guess I could try to rent a hotel for couple of days until I can figure out
what to do from there.

I sit there on my bed as my thoughts begin to wander off as
usual, straight to thinking of Matt. As if on cue, the phone rings. I look down
at the screen recognizing the number.

“Hello.”

“When you said you were putting some money into my account,
you didn’t say it was going to be millions! What were you thinking? This isn’t
drug money or anything illegal, is it?” he shouts into the phone, forcing me to
remove it from my ear while I flinch.

Rolling my eyes, I clearly state, “It isn’t illegal money
Matt. It’s what my fiancé has left me. He doesn’t know I put it into your
account,” I answer as if it’s no big deal.

“Why wouldn’t you want him to know you put it into my
account?” he asks, very suspiciously.

“Look the truth is, I found out he’s been cheating on me,
has been stealing money from me for the last year, and I don’t know what to do
from here. I needed somewhere safe to keep what was left of my money so he
wouldn’t take any more of it.”

“And you trusted a total stranger with it, instead,” Matt
says sarcastically, but with a touch of humor as well.

“I really doubt you’d be able to wipe out that much money on
beer and pot in a matter of days,” I say, rolling my eyes again. “Anyways, you
promised I could trust you, so you better not screw me over either,” I snap at
him.

“
You can trust me
. By the way, that
was
the
last of the stash and we don’t plan on buying anymore until the season is over.
Coach’s rules, we have to be clean before and during the season. That’s why we
decided to light it up one last time. It’s not my fault you chose that day to
do an impromptu visit.”

I shake my head as I take in his statement, giving us both a
silent pause on the line.

The silence coming from my end must have made him just as
uncomfortable because his voice becomes reassuring as he states, “I’m not going
to screw you over, Abigail. I have my own money to spend. I don’t need to touch
yours. I promise it’s safe with me until you touch it,” Matt says with a sigh I
can clearly hear through the phone.

He continues on, “If you know he’s cheating on you, why
don’t you leave the jerk?”

“I’m working on it. It’s not as easy as you think. I have no
family that I know of. I still haven’t gotten my memory back, and I have
nowhere to go.” Now I’m sounding pathetic, but I continue. “He’s gone for the
next couple of days on business anyway, so I’ll figure out what to do while
he’s gone.”

We both stay quiet on the phone causing an awkward pause
again. I really wish I could see his face right now. It would make me feel so
much better.

“Okay. I have to go, but if you need anything, just let me
know. Talk to you later, beautiful,” he says before he hangs up.

Beautiful? Why in the world would he call me beautiful?

I stare down at the phone, dumbfounded and numb about what
he said. The endearment did make me feel better and I sit there on my bed
smiling with delight, wishing again that I could at least see him. This whole
memory thing might be crazy, but at least I got one positive thing out of it.

AS THE DAY wears on, I keep thinking
about the situation I am in. I wish that it would get a bit easier to deal
with. I need to get out some of my pent up tension, so I decide to go out for a
run. After getting dressed and lacing up my running shoes, I head out the door
with my babysitter in tow.

Twenty minutes later, as my babysitter and I are pounding
the pavement with our shoes, it begins to drizzle. Great, right when I started
to hit my nirvana of running, I’m about to get soaked. So we high tail it back
to the apartment. I might like running now, but I don’t like doing it in the
rain.

We make it back just as the rain starts to pour, leaving us
a bit soaked as we exit the elevator to my apartment. As we are entering the
foyer I hear a noise coming from Bill’s study. That’s strange. I’d thought he
was going on a business trip, who the hell could be in there?

My babysitter goes on high alert, stepping in front of me
and begins to walk towards the door, but I follow him.

When we get to the door the sounds are getting louder, but
they’re not sounds I would expecting from someone who is working. It sounds
more like screams of pleasure.

That’s when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I
step in front of the bodyguard and go straight into the study. I’m surprised
when I see Bill pounding into Susan on his desk. I didn’t think he’d be brave
enough to fuck her in our own apartment.

He must have heard us walk in because he looks straight up
as we enter with a look of shock on his face. Of course, you should be shocked,
asshole. You just proved what I already knew, but this time I get to see it
with my own eyes.

Bill immediately starts pulling away from Susan, leaving her
confused, until she turns around and sees me. A smile forms on her face, which
doesn’t surprise me.

Seeing her, lying on his desk, leaves me frozen in my spot.
I can’t move. My feet feel like they’ve been glued to the floor, and I stand
there dazed by the whole situation.

“Andre, take Susan home please. Abigail and I need to talk,”
he says as he’s buckling up his pants and walking to me.

Seeing Bill coming straight towards me, I snap out of my
paralyzed state, turning around and walking straight out of the study. I hear
Bill calling after me, but I ignore him and head to my closet.

“Leave me alone, Bill!” I shout behind my back.

“It’s not what you think,” he says, finally catching up to
me.

I spin around to face him, causing him to stop at the
entrance of the bedroom. My chest is heaving from the anger emanating from me.

“Oh, really? You care to explain what I saw then, because
I’m pretty sure I just saw you fucking her?” I yell at him.

My arms are at my sides and my hands are forming a fist,
ready to hit something. I’m raging inside and the heat in my glare right now is
showing him just how pissed I am.

Pathetically, Bill says, “It just happened. I didn’t intend
for it to, but it did. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. Please Abigail, you
have to believe me.”

The scary thing is, from the look on his face you would actually
think he is telling the truth, but since I know he’s lying, I give him a
disgusted look.

Who the hell does he think he’s talking to? Is this the way
he was with me before the coma? Lying to me and deceiving me, making me believe
he cared about me? Man, I must have been some naïve person not to figure it out
sooner.

I hear my babysitter informing Bill that he’s leaving to
take Susan home. Bill nods his head in agreement, still staring at me. I turn
right back around and keep heading to the closet. I need to get out of here and
I need to do it fast.

Once inside the closet, I look around and find a large Louis
Vuitton duffel bag. Grabbing it, I start haphazardly yanking clothes off the
hangers, tossing them into the bag.

“What are you doing?” Bill asks from the doorway.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving.”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m not stupid Bill, I know you’ve been fucking her for a
while. I was only in the way of you giving her the attention she’s been wanting
this whole time.”

“What do you expect to do once you leave? You’re nothing
without me. I made you who you are, Abigail,” he claims with a condescending
tone. “If you were smart, you’d forget this whole little situation and continue
being the good girl that you are.”

My temper is rising, but I ignore it, trying to focus on my
packing. I don’t care what he made me. I don’t need it or
this
shit
right now.

Finally done packing, I walk out of the closet, clipping
Bill on the shoulder on my way out. He spins around and grabs my arm in a firm
grip, giving it a jolt of pain.

I look down at his hand and back up at his face with fury. “Let
go of my arm Bill,” I growl at him.

He brings his face close to mine with a sneer in his eyes. “Or
what? You’re not going anywhere, Abigail. I own you, and if you know what’s
best for you, you’ll stay. I could easily ruin your career. You’d become a
nobody, and trust me, as hard as you worked for it, I could take it all away in
a heartbeat.”

I’m outraged by what he’s said and I end up spitting in his
face from my anger. It clearly pisses him off. The next thing I feel is a blow
on the side of my face, like I was hit with a brick. My ears begin to ring and
I see stars for a moment.

I’m stumbling back from the force, landing with my ass on the
floor and I look up to see Bill standing right above me, with rage in his eyes
as he begins to wipe his face with the back of his hand.

The monster of aggression that I’ve been keeping pent up
inside of me comes out. Since he’s standing closely above me, the first thing I
do is bring my foot up and forward between his legs with all of the force that
I can muster. I scramble myself up as best as I can, while he’s going down to
his knees holding his groin, grunting in pain. I bring my fist back and then forward,
striking him straight in his nose.

When I hit him, my hand feels like it’s going to burst from
the force of impact. It physically feels like it hurt me more than it did him,
but by the way his head drives back, I know I got him good. He hits the floor
with a hard thump, grabbing his now bleeding nose. Even though he’s still
conscious, he’s unable to get up. I grab my bag, which fell on the floor, and
head straight for my room.

With a mad rush, I grab my purse and the file that the PI
gave me, stuffing it into the purse running to the elevator to enter it, and
head down to the lobby. As I’m walking away from the building, I’m shaking from
the adrenaline of what just happened.

It finally occurs to me that he was right and I start to
panic. I have nowhere to go here in Seattle. The last thing I want right now is
to go into hiding from Bill, but it is the safest thing to do, since I had no
idea what to do next.

As I continue walking, I see someone exiting a taxi next to
me, so I make a rash decision and get into it, informing the driver I need the
train station. If I was going to have to hide from Bill, I was going to have to
do it somewhere he wouldn’t expect me to go.

My face chooses this moment to alert me that it stings from
the hit, and I look in the rearview mirror of the taxi and notice that it’s
starting to swell up and change color on the side of my face. Great, the last
thing I need is someone recognizing me with a black eye.

I dig around in my purse and find a pair of big oval
glasses, put them on, and pull my hair out of its ponytail to cover the rest
up. Even though it’s cloudy outside, at least they cover my eyes.