Page 25 of A Tempting Seduction

Horace Waters. Just like he'd always planned.

I clicked on another article from a political blog. This one speculated about Lance's future ambitions, suggesting he had “gubernatorial potential” and might be “groomed for higher office.”

The only thing missing was the “family connection” to Horrace. Too bad Carla and Candice were already married. Other than that, it was all playing out exactly as Lance had told me it would, back when he thought I'd be a dutiful political wife standing beside him at victory celebrations.

“Maybe I'll be governor someday, Ruby,” he'd said during one of our engagement dinners. “Horace thinks I have what it takes. The connections, the look, the right background. A supportive wife from a good family doesn't hurt either.”

At the time, I'd felt flattered. Now, the memory left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I closed the browser and leaned back in my chair. My hands were shaking slightly, though I couldn't tell if it was from anger or anxiety. Lance had gotten everything he wanted. The senate seat, the political future, the freedom to sleep with whomever he chose without a naive fiancée getting in the way.

Good for him.

I should feel relieved. His success meant he had no reason to come looking for me. I was yesterday's news, a minor inconvenience from his past that had resolved itself when I'd disappeared. He'd moved on, climbed the ladder Horace had built for him, probably barely remembered my name.

So why did I feel so restless?

I glanced at the clock in the corner of my laptop screen. Three AM. Jordan was opening tomorrow with Kristin, which meant I didn't have to be at Java Jolt until noon. If I left now, I could be in Nashville by six-thirty, just in time to hit the Wired Bean internet café when they opened.

The thought popped into my head before I could stop it. I hadn't checked my old Gmail account in five months. I stood up and walked to my bedroom, adrenaline already starting to flow. I needed to know. I needed to see if they'd tried to contact me, if there were messages waiting, what lies they were spinning now.

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, my hair pulled back in a ponytail, car keys jingling in my hand. The drive to Nashville would give me time to think, time to prepare myself for whatever I might find.

The streets of Jasper Creek were empty at three-fifteen in the morning. My headlights swept across the town square, past Java Jolt's darkened windows, past the familiar storefronts that had become part of my daily routine. Everything looked peaceful and safe in the moonlight.

I turned onto the highway and pressed the accelerator. Nashville was three and a half hours away if I kept to the speed limit. Three hours if I didn't.

The Wired Bean sat in a strip mall in East Nashville, sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a cell phone repair shop. I used it when I checked up on my old life.

The café opened at six AM sharp, catering to early commuters and night-shift workers who needed coffee and internet access. The owner, a guy named Marcus with full-sleeve tattoos and gauge earrings, had been friendly but incurious. The perfect combination for someone who wanted to blend into the background.

I parked in front of the windows and waited, watching Marcus move around inside, getting ready for the day. At exactly six o'clock, he flipped the sign from “Closed” to “Open” and unlocked the door.

“You're up early,” he said as I walked in. “Or maybe you haven't been to bed yet.”

He caught me by surprise. It was like he recognized me, but then again, I often recognized returning customers, even if it was months between visits. “Little of both.” I smiled and headed for the bank of computers along the far wall. “Can I get a medium coffee and an hour of computer time?”

“Coming right up.”

I chose the terminal in the corner, the one with the most privacy, and waited for Marcus to bring my coffee before logging in. The process I'd developed was simple but effective. I used a VPN to mask my location, accessed Gmail through an encrypted browser, and made sure to clear all cookies and history when I was done.

It had taken me months to figure out the system, but I'd been motivated by equal parts curiosity and paranoia. I needed to know what was happening in my old life, but I couldn't risk leading anyone back to my new one.

My old Gmail account loaded slowly. The interface looked different than I remembered, updated with new features I didn't recognize. But the basics were the same. Inbox, sent mail, trash.

Four new messages since my last login five months ago.

The first two were from Candice, sent three months apart. I opened the older one first.

Ruby,

I hope you're doing well wherever you are. I think about you often and wonder if you're happy. I know things were difficult before you left, but families work through problems together. That's what we do.

Lance asks about you sometimes. He feels terrible about what happened and wishes he could apologize properly. I think you'd be surprised by how much he's grown as a person. Politics has matured him.

I don't know if you're reading these messages, but if you are, please consider reaching out. Mom misses you and Carla and I would love to hear from you. We're family, Ruby. That has to count for something.

Love, Candice