by Maryann Reid
11:40 P.M.
Matt was speaking now, but Blake couldn’t make out his words. She heard Brett clearly, however, when he snarled, “Touch me again and I’ll knock you on your ass, white boy.”
Blake slid out of bed and opened the door. Matt and Brett, confronting each other, both turned their heads to look at her. She slept nude, and hadn’t taken the time to put on her bathrobe before going to break up the fight.
“I apologize for not having any clothes on, but both of you need to chill.” She moved over so that most of her body was hidden by the door. “Now, tell me what this is about, one at a time. Matt first.”
“Your friend here”—Matt loaded the word friend with so much contempt that Brett actually took a step backward—“brought a guest here for the weekend. I told him to tell you or I would.”
“I already know about that,” Blake told them, her voice hushed and even.
Matt and Brett both stood staring at her, slack-jawed. After a few seconds Brett realized it was his turn to speak and he’d better convince Blake that Matt was lying.
So, with great passion but no originality, Brett shouted, “He’s lying!”
“I’ll be back in a second.” Blake turned around, groped her way into the bathroom, snatched up the bra too large for her, and returned to the door and dangled it in Brett’s face. “This is too big for me. I’m a C cup, this is a DD. So, if it isn’t mine and you didn’t entertain another woman in my apartment, I take it you’re a cross-dresser?”
Matt howled laughter, waking Antonio and Suki. They appeared in the other two bedroom doors, bleary-eyed and baffled. Blake pushed the bra into Brett’s hand and said, “You can return that to your friend. It would be polite. Now get your luggage out of my bedroom and your whoring ass out of my apartment.”
She turned around to go crawl back into bed, but Brett called to her, “Wait.”
Without looking back, Blake asked, “What do you want?”
“You said I’d get my turn to explain.”
“Go on, then.”
“Please, Blake. Let me talk to you in private.”
“Want me to show him out, Boss?” Suki called to her.
“Not yet. Brett, this had better be good.” She turned the knob to put the bedside lamp on its dimmest setting, sat on the bed, and pulled the covers up to her shoulders.
Brett stepped inside and looked her over with hungry eyes. Blake stared back at him. Stay strong, girl, she reminded herself. No matter how sweet he can be, the shit he did while I was away is just unacceptable.
When Brett still hadn’t spoken several seconds later, Blake told him, “If this is your idea of explaining, you need to grab your luggage and get out, like I said before.”
“I’m sorry. Your body makes a man’s head go empty.” He slide-stepped to the bed and sat on one corner, his gaze on the swell of Blake’s breasts under the covers.
“True or not, that doesn’t explain why you spent the weekend fucking another woman in a bed that I paid for, or why you didn’t answer Connor Stafford’s phone calls after I asked you to monitor developments with the Wishman Spears building while I was away.”
He rubbed her foot through the covers. “I was hurt.”
“Don’t touch me.”
Brett moved his hand to his lap. His eyes rested on her bare shoulders.
“What do you mean, you were hurt?”
“I’m crazy for you, Blake. You wouldn’t take me with you to Florida, and you wouldn’t even tell me why you were going there. I couldn’t stop thinking you must be fucking some other man. It killed me to think that, and all I wanted was to make you hurt as bad as I did.” He dropped his gaze to his hands on his knees. “I know I was wrong. I heard about your chauffeur. I’m sorry. I’ve wandered the city all day trying to think what to say to you, but there’s nothing I can say that makes up for what I did.”
God, he looks like a little boy whose favorite teacher just scolded him in front of his whole class. Stay strong, Blake! Finally she said, “That’s for damn sure.”
“Please just give me another chance. I swear I’ll never doubt you again, Blake, and I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.” He raised his eyes, brimming with tears, to hers.
She watched his face, trying to read whether he meant it or was only trying to hang on to a meal ticket. Lang was hanging on to a meal ticket. He beat the hell out of me so I’d be afraid of what he’d do if I tried to leave him. Brett isn’t as bad as Lang, she reassured herself.
“All right.” She caught herself touching the scar on her forehead, and moved her hand just before Brett swept her up in a joyous hug. “Ugh, but you can’t sleep here tonight.”
“I’ll check in at the Trump Tower.”
As Brett stood up, he noticed something on the floor and picked it up: one of the pair of six-inch, black velvet Alexander McQueen platform heels Blake kept on the bedside table, under a framed photograph of herself wearing them years ago at a business convention with Lang.
Blake put out her hand for the shoe and said, “I’ll take that, thanks.”
“I don’t understand why you keep a pair of stilettos on the bedside table, anyway. Why don’t you wear them anymore? And if you don’t want to wear them, why not throw them away?”
She breathed a long sigh. “That’s personal, Brett.”
Like air blasting out of a punctured balloon. “Okay, fine,” he said, and left.
Blake set the shoe next to its mate and stared at the photograph for a few seconds. “Never again,” she whispered to herself. Then she slid out of bed again, pulled on her bathrobe, and stepped out to talk to her bodyguards.
“I’m giving him one more chance,” she told Matt, Suki, and Antonio, all three seated on the sofa waiting to learn the outcome of her private talk with Brett.
None of the three bodyguards said a word. They stared at her with mutinous expressions, until finally Suki flowed onto her feet in the eerily graceful way she had about her. “I’m still worn out, so I’m going back to bed. Good night again, all.” She drifted back into her dark bedroom and shut the door.
“I better go back to bed too,” murmured Antonio. “I’m back on duty in a few hours.” He vanished into the bedroom he used by night and Matt used by day.
Matt folded his arms across his chest and shook his head as he kept his gaze on Blake. “With all due respect, Ms. Bertrand, I think you’ve lost your mind. Miranda would have my skin for a rug if I did the kind of shit that dude did.”
What do I say to that?
She didn’t know, but felt like she needed a good hard scrub in the shower.
Chapter Thirteen
April 1
New York, New York
Blake woke up just before sunrise, her throat feeling like someone poured kerosene down it and applied a lit match. The rest of her felt as though she’d been hit by a train, which then backed up over her and finally ran over her again. She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the living room, where Matt sat watching a black-and-white movie on TV.
He looked up at her and did a double take. “Whoa, Ms. Bertrand. You don’t look so good.”
She tried to smile but didn’t have the energy. Instead, she collapsed on one of the recliners and said, “I feel how I look.”
“You want me to take you to an emergency room?”
“No.” Blake shivered as she suddenly felt like she’d been dropped naked in the Arctic. “But maybe a clinic with walk-in hours…”
“I’ll find one.”
She must have fallen asleep or passed out then, because she wasn’t aware of anything else until Antonio scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the apartment. Matt held the door open for him and then hurried ahead to the elevator.
Matt pressed the elevator’s button to keep the doors open. Blake looked at Matt and managed to squeak out, “Tell Edith…to take care…of business…for…me.”
Matt punched the button to close the elevator doors. Then, as they started to slide
shut, her cell phone range. It was Brett. She turned it off.
She drifted in and out of consciousness, but she did hear the doctor tell Matt and Antonio that Blake was among the flu season’s last victims. “We can give her something to short-circuit the virus, but that just means she’ll be sick for a week instead of two or three. Lots of rest, plenty of fluids…”
That bitch he had in my bed must’ve had some nasty ass cold. I fucking hate germs.
#
April 5
New York, New York
She wasn’t aware of much until Sunday afternoon, when she finally woke up no longer feeling like she was dying and wishing she could hurry up and be done with it. Not surprisingly, Brett was nowhere, but she imagined he wasn’t too far. His luggage still sat by the closet door.
First things first, however. Her grumbling stomach insisted she feed it.
Blake slipped into her bathrobe and slippers and padded into the kitchen, where Suki was finishing her lunch. Take-away pad thai, it appeared to be, and it smelled delicious.
“Feeling any better, Boss?”
“Ravenous! You didn’t happen to get enough of that stuff for me to have some too, did you?”
Suki grinned. “I got enough for three bodyguards, but I can go back out and pick up some more for Matt. Have a seat.” She got out a clean plate and dished out a couple of large spoonfuls. “Let’s see how you do with that much, to start with. It’s been a few days since you’ve had anything but chicken broth.”
Blake demolished the food while Suki brewed some ginger tea for both of them. She stirred in some honey and handed Blake a mug. Blake sipped the hot liquid and relished how it eased her residual sore throat and stuffy sinuses.
“Oh, this is heavenly. Thanks, Suki.”
“You’re welcome.” The bodyguard watched her drink the tea for a minute or two, then asked, “Do you feel like you’ll be awake for a little while?”
“I think so. Why?”
“The guys and I need to talk to you, Boss.”
“Am I recovered enough for this?”
Suki appeared to give that some thought before saying, “From what I’ve learned about you, there are things you don’t want to talk about, no matter how you feel. But, Boss, you’ve hired Antonio, Matt, and me to protect you. We can do that better if we know more about who might want to hurt you, and why. Make sense?”
Blake stared at her now-empty tea mug and wished for something much stronger. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”
“Atta girl, Boss.” Suki went to the kitchen door and called, “Yo, Antonio, the boss is awake and I told her we need to talk to her. Grab Matt, will you?” Suki took her seat again, and a couple of minutes later Antonio and a bleary-eyed Matt joined them.
“Well, where shall we start?” Antonio looked at Suki.
“How about we start by giving props to our boss? Not many women with her name and face recognition could have a child and keep it a total secret for more than a decade.” Suki raised her tea mug to Blake in a salute, then finished off the beverage.
Blake slumped in her chair. Obviously, this was going to be a difficult conversation. “Yes. I have a son.”
“His name is Lionel, you gave him up for adoption at birth, and he played French horn in the All State Band concert we attended,” said Suki.
“Why is this something we need to talk about?” Blake wished, again, for a more potent beverage than tea.
“Because anyone who wants to hurt you might just think they’ll cause you more pain by harming someone you love, than by harming you personally.” Antonio fixed his gaze on Blake’s face. Matt and Suki followed his example.
“That’s not possible.” Or is it? How many other people wondered why I went to that concert, and have found the truth? Christ, if I’ve put my son in danger… “Nobody knows Lionel is my son, except me. I’m so careful…” Blake’s voice trailed off as her chest ached with doubts.
“It’s not just possible, Boss, it’s a certainty. Whoever beat Henry up, it wasn’t a mugging, and it wasn’t a grudge against him. Our agency has been checking that out.” Suki snapped her fingers in front of Blake’s nose. “Wake up, Boss. Someone knows you don’t just give the man a job; you care about what happens to him. Everyone else you care about is in danger, too.”
“Your mom,” said Matt.
Blake remembered Matt waiting downstairs while she told her mother about her chance to buy the Wishman Spears. “I’ve got Mom living in an exclusive island community. She should be safe there.”
“Not from a trained killer, she isn’t. Or even someone without training who is good at planning.” Suki shook her head. “Any of us three could get to her. We’ve all dealt with other people who could do the same.”
“Anyone who finds out about Lionel could get to him, too. It would be easy,” said Antonio.
“Or Edith,” added Suki.
“Or your friend Margot,” Antonio suggested.
“Your ‘uncle’ Thorne and his wife,” Matt said.
“STOP.” The tea mug slipped from Blake’s grasp and cracked into a bunch of pieces on the marble floor. “I get it. But what do I do about it?” She covered her face with her hands. I feel so helpless. Damn it.
“You start by telling us everyone who might want to hurt you, and why.” Antonio tapped the keyboard of his smartphone. “I’m taking notes. Go.”
“Well, there’s my ex-husband, Lang.” Blake kept her hands over her face. I really don’t want to talk about this. But what if someone I care about gets hurt or killed because I kept everything to myself?
Antonio nodded. “Ten years of marriage, several phone calls to the police about domestic violence. Always him violent to you. Now the question is, why?”
“He’s just that way.”
“No offense, Boss, but that’s bullshit.” Suki stood up. “Every man who beats up women has a reason for doing it. They grew up seeing dad slap mom around and think it’s normal, or their big sisters made them wear dresses and made fun of them, or some other lame excuse. It all comes down to control. They need the women in their life to fear and obey them, or they don’t feel like men. They beat respect out of women because it’s easier than earning it.”
Suki rambled in the refrigerator while Antonio nodded and said, quietly, “My dad beat up my mom. If I had a nickel for every time I heard him yell at her to do what he told her and like it…”
“But I don’t know! If there’s some reason why Lang is angry at women…I don’t know what it is.”
“I’m gonna have to call bullshit on you again, Boss. You’re too smart and too careful, even after what your stepfather did to you. Deep down, you probably have an idea why Lang beat you up.” Suki plunked down four ice-filled glasses, a two-liter bottle of Coca-Cola, and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Have some liquid courage, and we’ll join you.”
“Jack and Coke is what we drink after a job that’s been a real hair-raiser,” Matt confided to Blake as Suki poured the drinks.
Blake accepted the glass handed to her, and took a swallow. It momentarily burned her throat, which was still a little raw, but then she felt a warm glow spreading from her middle. To her own surprise, she wasn’t upset when she asked, “How did you know about my stepfather?”
Matt shrugged. “You started modeling as a kid. Everyone knows that. And everyone knows you, uh, acted out. In ways abused girls tend to act out.”
“Then you turned around. Dropped out of modeling at sixteen. Got back into it at eighteen, and you were totally different. You kept out of trouble and didn’t take any shit from anyone anymore,” said Antonio.
“Until Lang.” Suki locked gazes with Blake, peering over the rim of her glass. “Start there. How you met him. Why you hooked up with him. And judging by Lionel’s age, there’s a story there too, close to when you got tangled up with Lang.”
“It was my mom who turned me around.” Blake forced herself to continue meeting Suki’s gaze. She’s a woman. And she teaches self-de
fense classes for women and girls, she said. If anyone can understand, it’s probably Suki. “One day, when I was sixteen, she caught my stepdad about to rape me after beating me with his belt. It wasn’t the first time he did that. I hated him and never felt safe with him.”
Blake paused for another swallow of Jack and Coke, and smiled at the drink as she remembered Jacinta coming to her rescue. “You should have seen my mom that day. She was amazing. She stood in the door of my bedroom looking ten feet tall, and I still remember word for word what she said to that bastard Jim: ‘I’m a nurse. I know many ways to kill you and make it look like natural causes. If I ever see your face again, I’ll assume you’re trying to get your hands on Blake, and I will see you dead. Understand?’”
“Well done, Mrs. Bertrand,” Antonio said with a smile. Suki broke out into solemn applause, and Matt joined her.
“She wanted me to see a counselor, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. I just wanted to forget about him, feel safe again, and finish high school and get into real estate like my real dad did for a while.” Blake stopped as the three bodyguards exchanged swift, knowing glances. “What?”
“That explains why you cracked under Lang’s pressure,” said Suki. “You didn’t recover from your stepfather’s abuse, you just buried it.”
“And so it stayed there, making you vulnerable to another asshole like him.” There was a sadness in Antonio’s eyes that made Blake want to get up and go hug him. Or maybe it was the Jack and Coke, or missing Brett.
“Where is Brett?” Blake shook her head, puzzled that she hadn’t asked sooner.
Matt rolled his eyes. “He’s out ‘taking care of business’ for you. We want to talk about him, too, but let’s finish up with Lang first.”
Blake nodded, thinking, Best to get this over with. “How I met him. That was fifteen years ago. I was nineteen, and I’d been back in modeling for almost two years. I was a global sensation. Armani asked me to do a television commercial for one of their new fragrances, and the contract was worth a lot of money. I was saving up to get started in real estate development, so I was happy to take the offer. They cast Lang to be the handsome, distinguished man who caught a whiff of my perfume, and nothing could stop him from meeting me. Well, after the commercial was filmed Lang asked me out on a date, and when I kept saying no, he started sending me little gifts. My friends in the modeling business kept telling me to give him a chance. So I finally did.”