Adore Her More of Her (Daisy & Belmont #3) Read online

  Adore Her, More of Her

  Daisy & Belmont, #3

  Z.L. Arkadie

  Copyright © 2016 by Z.L. Arkadie Books

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-942857-96-9

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also by Z.L. Arkadie

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to the following:

  Edited by Red Adept Editing

  Cover Design by Z.L. Arkadie Books

  For my fans, who have ventured with me this far. I’ve taken you on so many twists and turns that I know your head is spinning. I published the first book in the LOVE in 2013, which was Find Her, Keep Her (Daisy & Belmont, #1). I was so happy and satisfied with the story I had written back then, which starred a young woman of thirty-five.

  * * *

  And if you gathered anything from the LOVE in the USA series, then I hope it’s this—you are never too old to be young enough to pursue the unique gifts you were born with. You have earth to till, love to acquire and true happiness on the horizon.

  * * *

  Here’s to a happy life! This one is for you, and me. Much love, Z.

  Chapter One

  I balance on one foot and raise the other, pressing my heel against my thigh. As soon as I’m steady, I massage the sole of my foot. Yoga three times a week is paying off as far as perfecting my balance is concerned, but the bottoms of both my feet are killing me. I spent all day on them in the kitchen of Mes Fleurs Bakery today. Jeffrey and Rain—the senior bakers—and I were making special menu items for the final month of Christmas. Creating twenty-three different tasty desserts was easier in concept than in reality. From 8:00 a.m. all the way to 8:49 p.m., we whipped up croissants, éclairs, brioches, religieuses, madeleines, macarons, beignets, mille-feuilles, and a six-per-box assortment of petit fours. Baking was fun but exhausting. When I got home, I was surprised to see that Belmont hadn’t arrived. He was supposed to be here five hours ago. It’s our “both away” day. At least one of us is home with Ed, our son, four days of the week, and on the day both of us are out, Aunt Susan—my stepfather Joseph’s sister—comes over to babysit. Her estate, where she grows acres of pomegranate trees, isn’t that far away.

  This morning, Belmont woke up earlier than I did, kissed me good-bye, and said he’d be home around five in the evening, depending on traffic. He drove from Montecito to San Francisco for a secured board meeting. I’m sure traffic leaving the city was a nightmare at around noon, but it should be all clear now. At any second, the headlights of his cream-colored SUV will be turning off the dark main road and onto our overly lit driveway.

  “Hey, Daisy…”

  Even though I know the speaker is not Belmont, I snap my face toward the doorway.

  “You’re leaving?” I ask Melvin, our chef for “both-away” days and special occasions.

  “Yep. Kitchen’s clean, and dinner’s warming in the oven.” His forehead wrinkles. “Jack hasn’t made it yet?”

  I shake my head. “No, he hasn’t.” There’s no masking the concern in my tone.

  Melvin looks past me and out the floor-to-ceiling windows. “It’s raining pretty good.”

  I purse my lips into a tight smile and nod. Tears flood my ducts, but I’m determined to not release them. I have no idea why feelings of dread and sadness have suddenly overtaken me.

  Melvin shows me a big, optimistic smile. “The roads are wet. Knowing Jack, he’s taking it easy, making sure he makes it home safely.”

  I fold my arms and gaze out into the wet night. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “I am right,” he says confidently. “So next week you won’t need me, right?”

  I quickly turn away from the glass and direct my manufactured expression of confidence at him. “Right. We’ll be in Manhattan for all of next month.”

  Melvin snaps his fingers. “Dallas, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “Isn’t Dallas Jack’s New York chef?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “But who’s the better chef, him or me?” He’s grinning bigger than before.

  I chuckle, welcoming the humor. “Well, you are, of course!”

  He laughs. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

  Now that the mood is lighter, Melvin waves good-bye. “Tell Jack I’m sorry I missed him.”

  “I will,” I say.

  We wave good-bye at each other one last time, and now I’m alone in this oversized room. My husband hasn’t lost his taste for grandeur, no matter how hard I tried to bring out his more modest side. He does have one. But he also has a burning desire to make me happy. In his mind, a big home means he’s a first-class provider.

  A chill runs up my spine. I shudder and rub my bare arms. It’s chilly in here, and the fact that I’m missing Belmont makes me feel how huge and impersonal this space is. I need to call him and see how close he is to home.

  I find the remote on the built-in shelf above the fireplace and lower the shades over the glass windows. I turn off the lights, walk into the foyer, and climb the floating staircase. Belmont has realized that we’re going to have to change the staircase out when Ed gets big enough to crawl and walk. These stairs are a child-emergency situation waiting to happen.

  The smell of Ed’s sweetness caresses my senses as I pass his bedroom. My office is on one side of his room, and Belmont’s is on the other. I never pictured myself as a mother, even after I lost Joella, my first child. But I love being Ed’s mother. I show him pictures from his sister’s very short life every now and then, and every time he sees them, he smiles. Watching him smile and giggle at her wide eyes reminds me of how much I miss my brother Daniel.

  I make it to my office. My cell phone is on the desk. I call Belmont. The line rings once and then drops. I grunt curiously and try again, and again. The same thing happens each time. I wonder where could he be? Maybe he left the office later than he intended. He has gotten stuck in emergency meetings before. He’s also had to travel out of the country at the last minute before. However, he’s always called and informed me of the change of plan. Then there’s the third possibility.

  I flop down in my desk chair and clench my phone in both hands. It was over a year ago when Belmont told me the truth about himself. We had just completed a session with our therapist, Dr. Calvet. It was one of those sessions that was filled with tears and hugs. Belmont admitted that he’d been hiding secrets from me that had been destroying him from the moment he looked into my eyes the first time on Martha’s Vineyard. He said something stirred his soul when he saw the depth of my sorrow. We’ve sat through enough sessions with Dr. Calvet for me to know that from a very early age, he’d cultivated a deep desire to fix his mother’s depression, which in turn made him want to fix everyone else's. This desire to fix all the pain in the world was also linked to his secret, one he could only disclose to m
e.

  I clearly remember the night after that session. As soon as we signed off from our videoconference with Dr. Calvet, we decided to shower and climb in bed to talk. My mind raced with possibilities of what he needed to disclose. Did he have another wife and family? Was he ill? Was he in love with another woman? I had no idea.

  Ed’s soft sobs come through the baby monitor, and I put the phone back on my desk and rush into his room. Cell phones are not allowed near Ed because of the harmful radio waves. Ed is standing in the cradle, clutching the rails. His big, bright-hazel eyes and his smile stop me before I reach him. Gosh, he favors Belmont.

  “Are you calling Mommy?” I say in a sweet voice reserved just for him.

  He jumps excitedly and laughs. I rush over to him and swoop him up into my arms. I sniff his sweet skin and kiss his soft cheek. Realizing that Ed only wakes up this early for a few reasons, I go right into mommy mode and change his diaper and feed him Melvin’s special baby food, an avocado-and-sweet-potato blend. Once he’s dry and full, I lay him back down in his bed and sit in the corner chair to read Peter Pan in a soothing voice until he falls asleep.

  I hear a baby grunting. It sounds like Ed. I’m at the tail end of a dream that’s hard to forget. Belmont has just told me to never forget him before diving into a hot, boiling pit of molten lava. Now the child is moaning for mum-mum… I open my eyes. Daylight floods the space. I’m still in the corner chair in Ed’s bedroom, and he’s standing against the rail in his crib.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper and turn to look out the window. Sometimes when Belmont comes home late, he parks in the driveway in front of the door. I don’t see his SUV out there, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t home. He must’ve parked in the garage. After seeing me asleep in the chair, he probably decided not to disturb me and instead go straight to bed. But other times, he hasn’t hesitated to disturb me when I’ve fallen asleep in Ed’s room.

  I lift Ed out of his cradle. He’s soaked, but I want to find Belmont before I change him. “Let’s go get Daddy.”

  He rests his cheek on my chest beneath my collarbone. He too is ready for a big hug and kiss from his dad.

  “Belmont,” I call as I round the corner to our bedroom.

  The bed is made. My eyes search the entire space.

  “Belmont?” I call louder as I walk quickly to the bathroom. He’s not in here.

  I race frantically through the rooms upstairs, calling Belmont’s name. I make it to his office. He’s not there either. Ed squirms in my arms. His diaper is soaked, and he’s been pretty patient so far. Torn, I sigh hard and rush back to Ed’s bedroom to freshen him up, which includes taking off the soiled diaper, wiping his skin, powdering his bottom, and putting on a fresh diaper. I don’t realize how shaky my hands are until I lay him down.

  I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Mommy will be right back.”

  The corners of Ed’s mouth turn down, his skin turns red, and he does something out of character—he just bawls. I kiss him one more time and hurry out of the room. His cries are louder as I rush down the stairs.

  “Belmont?” I call.

  I search the kitchen, the west great room, the east family room, the two powder rooms, the full bathroom, the wet room, the garage, and the indoor swimming pool. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m sweating like crazy, and my heart’s beating out of control.

  “Ed.” The baby isn’t crying anymore.

  I run up the stairs and into his room. He’s biting his toes as he stares at the blue-butterfly mobile above his crib. He looks at me with amazed eyes. His smile broadens, and he goes back to making sounds at the mobile. I want to bend over and grab my knees to catch my breath, but I can’t rest until I at least know where Belmont is. I go to my office and check my cell phone. I have no messages or missed calls from him.

  I call him. This time I reach a recording that says the number is no longer in service. I try seven more times before calling Harold Doe and getting the same message. I get another shiver down my spine like the one I felt last night. I grab the edge of my desk and take deep breaths until the dread passes. Now that I’ve gotten my bearings, I call Meg, Belmont’s executive assistant.

  “Lord & Lord Enterprises, Jack Lord’s office,” she says.

  I press my hand on my chest and fall back in my chair. “Meg, this is Daisy.”

  “Good morning, Daisy.” Her tone is sunny.

  “Have you seen or heard from Belmont?”

  “No, not yet, but he’s not supposed to be in the office today.”

  That’s right. It’s his day to stay home with Ed.

  “Did you see him yesterday?” I ask.

  “Yes, I did.”

  I give a sigh of relief. “What time?”

  “Um…” I hear her shuffling in the background. “He had a meeting with the board of directors at nine a.m., and that was it.”

  “Did he make that meeting?”

  “I never received word that he didn’t.”

  “Okay, but he should’ve come home directly afterward.”

  “He didn’t make it home?”

  Part of me wonders if I should tell the truth. I've been careful to not disclose too much of what I know about his business from the moment he told me the truth about himself. My husband used to be an agent for a secret security organization. He promised me that he’s not as active with “the agency” as he used to be. These days, he’s only called on for consultations and occasional training sessions with new recruits, which are becoming less and less frequent. He said this was because new leadership was shifting the focus toward new technology and away from men on the ground, which he thought was a bad idea. “Never sacrifice one for the other,” he said.

  “Daisy? Are you still there?” Meg asks.

  I clear my throat and focus on the moment. “Yes, but…” I shake my head. “I’ll call you later. Thank you for the information.”

  I can hear worry in her silence. “Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

  “Sure thing.” I hang up.

  I sit back in my seat and think about what will be the right course of action to take at this point. One name comes to mind. I snatch my phone off the top of my desk and give that person a call.

  Chapter Two

  Three Days Later

  Maggie stands over Grey Lansing, who’s sitting at a table that holds rows of screens and monitors. He’s examining video taken from surveillance of San Francisco.

  Maggie, who arrived two days ago with Grey, grunts and squeezes the bottom of her chin in a gesture of frustration. “Jack couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air.”

  “But there’s something strange going on here,” Grey says.

  “Yeah, like what?”

  Grey is unsuccessful at trying to stifle a yawn. He’s probably only slept about five of the last forty-eight hours.

  “The video we’re pulling doesn’t seem authentic,” he says.

  Maggie grunts and moves closer to the screen to get a better look. My eyes are fixed on Grey, Maggie, and the screen, watching them as if they are part of a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.

  We’re in a tiny room in the basement of our house. I never knew we had a basement. And the setup is pretty elaborate. Computers and monitors are mounted against a wall, which Maggie and Grey operate with ease. The only reason I’m standing here is because I demanded they let me stay. There's no way I would let them leave me out of the full process of finding my husband.

  An image of a quarter of a billboard, which is mostly obstructed by trees, expands to at least four times its original size.

  “Look at the date.”

  I blink my tired eyes to focus on the center of the billboard, where the date of June 18 of this year is faintly written next to leaves of the bushy tree. That was almost five and a half months ago.

  Grey’s fingers move rapidly across the keyboard. “Here’s what I suspect.”

  Five images appear across two screens. It’s really diffic
ult for my brain to process what I’m seeing, and usually I’m pretty swift.

  “This is satellite footage from June 18, and the information on this billboard is the same as it is here. But look at this,” he says.

  Two side-by-side images are front and center. Maggie points to the one on the right. “That’s from three days ago, and the other is from June 18?”

  “Yep,” Grey says.

  He and Maggie look at each other as if they’re speaking without words. My mind finally connects the dots. The video they’ve been studying for two days has been doctored.

  Maggie quickly faces me and frowns. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Dais?”

  I shake my head adamantly. I’m too exhausted to include words with my gesture.

  She sighs hard. “Then I’m going to have to insist that you leave.”

  “No.” My voice trembles. “Why?”

  “Because the less you know, the safer you are.”

  I blink my burning and tired eyes. “I’m so damn confused. How did it get dangerous all of a sudden?”

  Suddenly, the entire computer system shuts off. We’re very still in one long moment of silence.

  “How did you access that satellite footage?” Maggie asks Grey.

  “Not through the agency.”

  “Shit,” Maggie says under her breath. “I wish you would’ve told me before you did that.”

  “Why?” Grey says, looking perplexed.

  “Because they’re not supposed to know you have the ability to get around them.”