NC-17

by Larissa Reinhart

  Maybe we could look at those security videos right now. I could find Oliver in his apartment, not yet asleep.

  I spun around and walked with purpose toward the elevator. Which unfortunately held Giulio. Fortunately, he wore more than a robe. But he carried an overnight bag.

  “My darling, are you staying here?” He leaned forward to give me a double cheek kiss. “Let's have a drink in the bar.”

  “I thought this was a health spa?”

  “Who can be that healthy?” He studied me. “But you are dressed for what?”

  “Exercise. I’m headed to the gym.”

  He doubled over in laughter.

  I elbowed him. “What’s with the suitcase?”

  He sobered and straightened. “I am leaving.”

  “On a trip?”

  He shook his head. “I have finished with Vicki. I will return to California.”

  “She’s not interested in Oliver, and Oliver’s not interested in her.”

  “Perhaps not romantically, but this business of theirs.” He waved a hand in disgust. “Basta! I can no longer take it. Am I not a man? Am I not to be the husband? I should be excluded?”

  “You knew Vicki was like this. I thought you were okay with her running things.”

  “She takes me for the granted too much.”

  “I understand. I’ll miss you, Giulio. Good luck in California.”

  He dropped his hands from their mid-air revelry. “What? That’s it?”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  He pouted. “It’s not exactly what I want. I want her to drop these business dealings and return to the real drama. Theatrical drama. I am an actor, Maizie.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Vicki no longer looks at the dailies. She is not communicating with the other producers. She doesn’t read our scripts and is disengaged during our scenes. How do I work under these conditions?”

  “Because it’s a job, Giulio. And sometimes jobs are hard.” I didn’t need any more reminders of that. I spun away and tromped down the west hall, past Oliver’s office to the outside door.

  A minute later, Giulio caught up with me. “Where are you going?”

  “The gym.”

  “The juice bar is closed. Where are you really going? Is it the detective work? Let me come with you. I left the bag at the desk. What are you detecting?”

  I knew better than to try to argue with him. And he was wearing dark colors. Dark gray satin sweatpants and a tight Fila T-shirt.

  “You are walking quite quickly for you,” said Giulio. “Maybe this is exercise.”

  I hung a right, following the outside wall of the Center and plaza outbuildings. At the gym’s rear, I pointed toward the narrow gap between the building and the fence. “This is the only way to get in the back area, so why don’t you act as my lookout? Pretend you are taking the evening air. Or play the actual lookout.”

  “I do not have the right props. They don’t allow smoking here. I’ll come with you. If you can fit in that gap…” He gave my chest a pointed look. “I can easily fit.”

  “We could get in trouble. The back area is off limits.”

  “Anything is better than the misery I have endured.”

  I rolled my eyes then squeezed into the gap. Giulio slid in next to me.

  “This is not so bad because I have the slim hips,” he said. “If you actually exercised, you would not be so smashed. But it is interesting to watch your struggle. There is a lot of…movement in your parts.”

  “I have a gun on the premises, Giulio. You better think about what you say next.”

  We spilled out of the gap, facing the giant garden fence and crumbling remains of the old farm.

  “It is like I’m on a different planet,” said Giulio.

  “I know, right? Keep your head down. There are security cameras everywhere. Luckily, there’s no moonlight.”

  We crept across the cleared area, avoiding the cameras on the garden and back fences.

  “I want to poke around the cow barn,” I whispered. “I saw some equipment in there earlier. And there’s another building that Oliver didn’t show me.”

  “It is so exciting,” said Giulio. “But no cows, please.”

  We crept toward the shack where I had observed Everett Lawson enter the vegetable garden. Giulio peeked inside. “Che schifo. Disgusting. I will wait outside.”

  I slipped through the doorway. Hoped the bats were out for the night. Swept my tiny keychain flashlight over the walls and floors and returned to Giulio.

  “Just gardening equipment. Shovels and the like.”

  He shuddered.

  I led him across the field. Another old building lay near the thicket of trees that hid the gate where we’d met Oliver. This building had a better roof but appeared older than the barn. On the far side, a garage door had been retrofitted into the wall.

  “It is odd, but not so interesting,” said Giulio. “They keep the tractors inside.”

  “The gardeners have a building. I saw it when I looked for Everett Lawson.” Whom I hadn’t seen since the first day. Which was odd, but also not so interesting. “We can’t get in this way.”

  I circled back to where the stone had fallen off. Shone my flashlight on the exposed areas. “See how there are gaps between the stones up there? Like a window for ventilation.”

  Giulio stood on his toes to see in. “It is very dark.”

  “Naturally.” I handed him my mini flashlight.

  “But the smell is less rank as the other shack. This one smells like gas and oil.”

  “Which explains the garage door.”

  After a moment, he said, “It is where they keep the small vehicles.”

  “Golf carts?”

  He shook his head and handed me the flashlight. “The kind for the driving in the forest. Like your father uses.”

  “ATVs. Boost me up so I can see.”

  We struggled for a moment. Giulio bent his knees. I stood on his thighs while he grasped my waist and leaned his head against my butt.

  “Hurry. You are not so light, Maizie. But at least you are soft in the right places.”

  I gritted my teeth and held on to a piece of stone with one hand. Raising my chin to see, I shone the light inside. “I wish I had a bigger flashlight.”

  “I wish for many things right now.” He grunted and dug his chin into a butt cheek. “Hurry.”

  “Wait a minute.” I trained the light on the wall behind the ATVs where debris had been piled in a heap. “That’s my Campomaggi backpack. The one that was stolen.”

  “Maizie,” gasped Giulio. “I think someone is coming. There is the noise.”

  I froze. A metal gate creaked. “Shizzles.”

  I pushed off his thighs and hopped to the ground. Giulio moaned and rubbed his quads.

  “What should we do?” he panted. “Run? Hide?”

  A figure appeared in the distance. A flashlight shone on the ground at their feet.

  “I can’t tell who it is,” I whispered. “Too dark and too far away.”

  “But Maizie,” he murmured. “Look at his shoulder. That looks like a—”

  I squinted. The metal glinted in the faint atmospheric light. “A rifle. Craptastic. That must be Everett Lawson.”

  We ducked behind the building. Everett’s footsteps grew louder but remained unhurried.

  “I don’t think he knows we are here,” whispered Giulio. “Or he is prolonging the suspense.”

  “This isn’t scripted. He’s not a James Bond villain.” I slid to the ground and peered around the corner.

  Growing closer, Lawson swung the light over the building, then flashed it toward the woods. The light circled the perimeter before shining on the wall near the garage door.

  I glanced back at Giulio with my finger to my lips, then peeped again.

  Everett moved the flashlight to the hand holding the rifle and leaned forward to flip the key cover next to the door. The light beamed on the pad, shrouding his face
in darkness. I knew it was Everett Lawson by the way he held the gun and trudged through the landscape. But he also reminded me of someone else.

  The man in front of the Price home.

  Forty-One

  #SharedHerstory #OliverTwisted

  I rose, sliding up the wall next to Giulio. The garage door lifted. We flattened against the vibrating building, the stones rubbing against our back. Before the engine cut off, Giulio mouthed, “What now?”

  I held up a finger.

  We heard Everett moving inside the building, then start the motor on one of the ATVs. I grasped Giulio’s hand. Ready to run, I pushed onto the balls of my feet and felt Giulio making a similar adjustment.

  The ATV roared out of the building. Its lights cut through the gloom of the trees. A path perfectly wide enough for the ATV emerged. The building rumbled again as the door began to close.

  “Hurry.” I darted around the side of the building. I stood beneath the closing door, activating the safety sensor. The door hung above me, swinging like a guillotine.

  In the darkness, the ATV continued on its trek into the woods. The motor slowed.

  “He’s probably at the outside gate,” I whispered.

  “You are very risky,” said Giulio. “If I wasn’t engaged to your mother, I’d find you incredibly attractive right now.”

  “Don’t you start.” I darted into the garage. Found my backpack and rooted in the other debris. “Mostly trash.”

  I held up my helmet. “Do you know what this means?”

  “It means I am done with the snooping,” said Giulio. “It is always exciting until we’re almost caught. Now I’m thinking again about the bar.”

  “And I’m thinking about Everett Lawson and why a Wellspring caretaker is hanging out with bank robbers.”

  * * *

  The bar was closed. I sent Giulio back to his suite and took my backpack to my room. Mara’s video camera and my phone were gone. But my wallet and keys were still inside. Also evidence of mice, including the protein bar wrapper they had partially eaten. After I screamed, dropped the bag, and scrubbed my hands and arms, I shoved the backpack in my closet.

  After showering a second time, I redressed and went to find Oliver. I wanted information on Everett Lawson. I knocked on Oliver’s apartment door and waited. Long enough to question my rationality. Did I need to speak to Oliver at this time of night? Or did I want to speak to Oliver?

  Wait. Was this some sort of Freudian booty call on my part?

  But it was too late. A slide of a lock broke the silence. The door swung open and there was Oliver. Looking demi-god-ish. Bare-chested. With sweatpants hanging mightily low on his hips.

  I had forgotten about all the muscles. Holy shmizzles. I snapped shut my mouth and cleared my suddenly dry throat.

  “Maizie?” He blinked fuzzily several times then widened his eyes. Grabbing my hand, he yanked me inside. “What are you doing up this late?”

  “I don’t sleep anymore. And I need to speak to you about something important.”

  His apartment was standard Wellspring Center sumptuous with luxurious upgrades like a kitchen and leather furniture centered around a fireplace with a mounted flat screen. He had several framed pictures on a console table behind the couch, but otherwise, the living area appeared impersonal. I approached the photographs. He and his parents in separate frames. Like mine, they were divorced. Oliver and his grandmother. Oliver and me.

  Actually, five photos of us in one of those multi-picture frames. Cute couple pics and two of just me. One was from my Maxim shoot when he’d accompanied me and taken pictures behind the photographer.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about the number of photos. Particularly the Maxim shot where I did not appear “girl next door” in the least little bit. I picked up the frame to study the pictures and felt Oliver’s large presence behind me. He hesitated, then circled an arm around my waist. Pressed his body against my back and kissed the top of my head.

  “I was hoping you’d change your mind,” he said. “You can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.”

  “Um,” I said, drawing myself up, ready to pull away.

  Which might have given him the wrong impression. His other hand slipped to my shoulder to pull back my hair. His lips descended on my neck.

  “The thing is Oliver…I actually came to talk to you about the missing person case.” I sucked in a breath. He found the sensitive spot on my neck that drove me crazy (in good ways) and began plundering it with his mouth. He hadn’t forgotten which proverbial buttons started my engine. I groaned.

  “Sure,” he murmured against my neck. “Of course.”

  The lips continued their treacherous journey. My eyelids fluttered shut and I gripped his arm to steady myself. The solidity of his forearm motivated me to lean against him. Inducing Oliver to continue to burn a hot lips trail from my neck to shoulder. Prompting me to arch my back. Encouraging him to let his hand roam over my body.

  “Oliver, I’m— It’s just that—” I couldn’t think of the words.

  He didn’t seem to care.

  And I didn’t either. It’d been too long. And he was too familiar. This was early courtship Oliver in the wake of my biggest crash after I’d left Julia Pinkerton. When Oliver was an anchor in a churning Hollywood sea of vice and victimization.

  I turned in his arms, dropping the frame. It crashed and splintered on the wood beneath my feet. Oliver swept an arm beneath me, swinging my body up and against his powerful chest.

  “There could be broken glass,” he said, gazing down at me.

  “Very considerate,” I replied, feeling very damsel-ly and light. Especially after Giulio’s implied remarks about my weight.

  He nuzzled my cheek. “It’s good to have you back.”

  Wait. Was I back? I shifted in his arms. Which wasn’t the effect I was going for considering the resulting expression on Oliver’s face.

  “I’m not necessarily back.”

  “Necessarily?” Angling his head, his lips hovered above mine.

  “I’ve got a lot going on.”

  His lips nudged my mouth. “You’re busy. I get it.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You’ve always been complicated, Maizie.” Our lips brushed. Then opened. And I forgot to breathe. Or think. But somewhere deep in the part of my mind that wasn’t swimming in hormones, a memory of another kiss niggled. And a cloud of guilt spread, thundering through the lust to rain on my libidinous parade.

  I was still in love with Wyatt Nash. My boss. Ex-coma victim. And perhaps soon to be not-so-ex-husband of Jolene Sweeney.

  I was probably the biggest idiot who ever lived.

  But what else was new.

  I slid out of Oliver’s arms — slow enough to not damage either of us — and stepped away. “I really did come here to talk.”

  He rubbed his face. “I thought that was an excuse.”

  “Possibly. But I need to focus on the missing person case. For my sanity. And for the kids.”

  Oliver collapsed into a leather chair. “I’m not firing on all cylinders, babe.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Oliver. I figured out tonight that Everett was the older guy at the Price house who accompanied today’s gunman. That means he’s involved in the bank robbery and I’m not safe at Wellspring either.”

  “What?” He straightened in the chair. “Are you sure?”

  “I didn’t recognize him at the Price’s because I was running from him and he had his hat pulled down low and sunglasses on. With his beard, I couldn’t tell him from any other older dude who hangs out at the feed and seed.”

  “Feed and seed?”

  I waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, I think you need to check your human resource files on Everett Lawson. And we should call the police. Maybe he’s some kind of Fagin to Black Pine’s gamers. A bank robbing crime ring. Maybe Crispin and Roger are nothing more than Oliver Twists. Except neither are orphans. They both live with their mothers. But w
hatevs.”

  “I have no idea what you’re saying.” Oliver mopped his face. “But okay. We’ll go to my office. You’re sure it can’t wait until morning?”

  “It’s already morning, Oliver.”

  Forty-Two

  #HellaciousHookUp #Mothercopter

  In Oliver’s office, I practiced Nash-like pacing while Oliver skimmed through human resource files on his computer. Giving an aggravated grunt, he pushed out of his desk chair and bent over a filing cabinet. Left the room without a word, then returned fifteen minutes later.

  “Maizie,” he said. “I’m sorry but I can’t find anything on Everett Lawson. Are you sure that’s his name?”

  “I met him when I was with Dr. Trident.” I sucked in a breath. “Do you think he works for Dr. Trident? Maybe Everett’s a community service volunteer like me.”

  Oliver placed his hands on my arms and slid them to my shoulders. “I’m not waking up Dr. Trident, babe. It can wait until morning. You need to sleep.”

  “There’s no way I can sleep now, Oliver. Everett Lawson’s out there somewhere on an ATV doing who knows what and he could come back any minute. He didn’t see me Oliver, but I saw him.”

  “I’ll alert security.” The deft fingers skimmed my back, massaging small circles along my spine. “If he shows, they’ll call the police and prevent him from entering.”

  “What if he knows I’m here?” My voice had gone from troubled to breathy. “What could they want from me?”

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He sidled closer, sliding his hands to my waist. “I promise you that.”

  “I know you won’t. But I’d feel better if I could have my little gun back.” I tipped my head, feeling my hair swing against my shoulders. His eyes had gone fuzzy again. I slid my hands up to his shoulders. Pushed onto my toes and leaned into him. If that’s what it took to get my gun back, I felt no shame in using what God gave me.

  And, I had to admit, I kind of liked seeing how I could make his eyes go fuzzy.