by Cassie Miles
“First off, I want you to know that none of this is your fault. And it’s not my fault, either. We just got caught up in somebody else’s problems.” She was at a loss to explain why an international bad guy wanted revenge on them because of a long-ago incident involving Joe. And she didn’t want to frighten Joey. “Mr. Law and I decided it was best for you and me to stay here until the bad guys are caught.”
He thought for a minute. “Okay.”
Relieved, she grinned. “I liked what you said earlier. That you take care of me and I take care of you.”
“We take care of us.” He bounced off the bed. “Mommy, is it okay if I don’t sleep here tonight?”
“Have you made other plans?”
“Me and Zachary built a fort downstairs, and we wanted to camp in it. His mom said we could have marshmallows.”
“That sounds fun. It’s okay with me.”
He replaced Andy Panda on the bed and zoomed into the hallway. Joey’s resilience was the number one best thing that had happened all day. In second place was Lindsay’s comment that Nolan liked her.
At her age, it was silly to be excited about a man showing interest. Thirty-six-year-old women didn’t have crushes or doodle their boyfriend’s name in a notebook. Would she even call Nolan a boyfriend? He definitely wasn’t a boy.
Speaking of the devil, he knocked on the doorframe. “May I come in?”
“Please do.”
In the small room, his shoulders seemed huge. He filled the space with his presence. When she looked up at him, the waning afternoon light through the window reflected off his horn-rimmed glasses.
“We’ve located Roxanne.”
“What did she say about Victor?”
“Nothing yet.” His rasping, smoky voice coiled around her. “Wade Coltrane talked to her on the phone while he was sitting in his car right outside her house. She told him she didn’t want to meet at her home.”
“Does that mean she knows something?”
“It might,” he said. “Coltrane set up a meeting with her at eight o’clock in the bar at the Viceroy Hotel.”
“Nice place.” The Viceroy was small, exclusive and super deluxe. Tess knew where it was but had never been inside.
“I have a suite there,” he said. “It’s where Bart stays when he’s in town. Since he isn’t here, I get the fancy room.”
Thinking about Nolan and hotel rooms—or Nolan in a luxury hotel suite—started her imagination running. There would be amenities and room service and Egyptian cotton sheets…and him. “And why are you telling me this?”
“Roxanne is obviously skittish. I thought it might be good for you to come along. Like you said, she might be more open with another woman.”
She sensed a deeper meaning. “Is that the only reason?”
“I like being with you.”
Though he was careful not to crowd her, he was still too close—easily within kissing range. Hadn’t she just told him that she wanted to go slow?
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”
Chapter Thirteen
In person, Roxanne Wachovski was prettier than Nolan expected. The ID photo on her driver’s license—which Amelia had provided for them—made her look hard in spite of her curly auburn mane. Amelia had pointed out that she’d shaved off a couple of years on her ID and said she was forty-nine.
“She’s here,” he said to Tess.
Sitting at a small round table in the Viceroy Hotel bar, they’d been waiting for Roxanne for twenty minutes. That might have been the perfect time for him to have a serious conversation with her, but they weren’t really alone. Nolan was connected via a tiny two-way communication device to Wade Coltrane, who had been tailing Roxanne in case she changed her mind about talking and decided to bolt.
With Wade listening to every word he said, Nolan had kept the conversation simple—focusing on the Smithsonian event and Christmas and Joey. He’d told Tess that when they were done with Roxanne, he’d hide Joey’s Christmas presents in his hotel suite where her son couldn’t accidentally stumble over them. That gave him the excuse he needed to get her by herself.
And then, he’d say the words he should have said when he first walked into her office. Tonight, he would tell her the whole truth. After what she’d been through today, she deserved to know his identity.
He raised his hand and signaled to Roxanne, who sauntered across the room, swinging her hips. She was round and soft—heavier than the weight recorded on her ID, but in a good way. When she unbuttoned her winter coat, she showed cavernous cleavage.
“I’ll have a pinot grigio,” she said as she sat.
“Coming right up,” he said. “My name is Nolan Law. This is Tess Donovan.”
“Are you CIA? Military intelligence?” Through gobs of mascara, she squinted at him. “What kind of spy are you?”
“I work for a private security firm founded by Bart Bellows,” Nolan said as he fastened a listening device to the underside of the table so he could overhear anything Roxanne said to Tess while he was out of earshot.
Tess introduced herself, “I’m a party planner. I’m here because Bart is a good friend of mine.”
“A special friend?” Roxanne said with a leer. “Maybe, a lover?”
“Just a friend,” Tess said definitely. “He helped me through a difficult time. I love him like an uncle.”
“Yeah, I supposed Bart’s getting too old to chase the ladies. Not that he ever made a pass at me. Believe me, I tried to get him interested. He was a catch. Richer than Trump and not bad to look at.” She looked toward Nolan. “I thought you were getting my drink.”
He went to the bar, listening through the bug as Roxanne continued to talk to Tess.
“What’s this about?” the redhead demanded. “The guy on the phone mentioned Victor Bellows.”
Tess hesitated. “We should wait until Nolan comes back.”
“I want you to tell me. I trust you more than those tough guys.”
“Okay,” Tess said, “Bart has been kidnapped, and we think Victor is responsible.”
She swore under her breath. “Doesn’t surprise me. Victor Bellows is a bad seed. Know what I mean? He was born to make trouble.”
From the bar, Nolan watched the two women. They made an interesting contrast. Roxanne was earthy and sensual. Tess was…an angel. Her pale skin actually seemed to glow, and her black hair shimmered in the dim lights of the hotel bar.
“I don’t get it,” Roxanne said. “Why did these guys contact me?”
“We’re trying to get as much information on Victor as we can. You were his nanny when he was a preteen. You might remember something about him that could be helpful.”
Nolan returned to the table with her wine and set the glass in front of her. “We’ve spoken to Lila Lockhart. She remembered that Victor used to play tricks on you.”
“It wasn’t the usual mischief,” Roxanne said with a shudder. “He was a disturbed kid. He really wanted to hurt me. Or scare me. He put spiders in my bed. And a snake. I couldn’t close my eyes for one minute.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Nolan asked.
“Two years ago.” She lifted her glass and took a long sip. “I can tell you some really interesting things about that creep. First, I need something from you.”
“Name it,” he said.
“I need your assurance that Victor will never know that I talked to you. I don’t want him showing up on my doorstep looking for revenge.”
“Everything you say will be confidential.”
She took another hit of wine. “And I want to know what’s in it for me.”
“You could be helping us save Bart’s life,” he said.
“Oh sure, it’s the right thing to do. Taking another psychopath off the streets, blah, blah, blah.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not getting any younger. I need to think of my retirement. This info is going to cost you.”
“Five thousand,” Nolan said. He had that much in his checking a
ccount. “I’ll have it transferred to your bank in the morning.”
“That’s good for a start,” she said.
“If Bart comes through this in one piece, he’ll be in your debt.”
“And Bart is a very wealthy man.” Roxanne considered for a moment. “I’ll talk, Nolan. But not to you. I’m going to have a chat with Tess. You can run along.”
He saw Roxanne’s confidence; she thought she was calling the shots. But he also sensed her fear. Two years ago, Victor had scared her, and Nolan wanted to know that story. He rose from the table. “I’ll wait at the bar.”
Though Roxanne lowered her voice, he heard her clearly through the bug.
“I hadn’t stayed in touch with Victor, never thought I’d see him again, and that was fine with me. I spent two years being his nanny because Bart paid me twice what I’d make at any other job. But I quit when Victor turned fifteen. He was a big kid, and he was starting to get threatening.”
“Did he ever hurt you?”
“I can show you the scars. Victor was a sicko.”
“Actually, I think you’re right,” Tess said. “He has an illness. Did he ever get treatment or medication?”
“Bart didn’t want anything that would cause a blemish on Victor’s record. He thought the boy was acting out because of his mother’s death. But he did take him to a doctor—an off-the-record doctor—who provided medication. And it helped. Victor calmed down.”
Her statement fit with what Nolan had heard from Dr. Leigh. Apparently, Victor had a chemical imbalance that caused him to behave badly. But he was treatable.
“He didn’t like the pills,” Roxanne said. “He quit taking them. One day, he flew into an uncontrollable rage. The only thing I could do was lock him in the basement of the house. I called Bart and got the hell away from there.”
Tess prompted, “And when you saw him two years ago?”
“He and another guy were standing on my doorstep. They were polite, said they were looking for a lost dog. I didn’t recognize Victor right away. He was over six feet tall and all filled out. It wasn’t until I invited them inside that I looked into his eyes, those crazy blue eyes. Then I knew him. But it was too late. He slapped me hard, knocked me on my ass. And he kicked me. It was awful. I thought I was a dead woman.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Nolan watched as Tess reached across the table and rested her hand on Roxanne’s arm. Her empathy was real. And it served a purpose. He knew that Tess would be able to get more information from this woman than he could.
“The other guy with him,” Tess said, “did he just stand by and watch?”
“He was worse than Victor. He yanked me off the floor and shoved me against the wall. He was going to rape me, but Victor told him not to. Victor said he was on a mission. He was going to pay back everybody who wronged him. And he thought that included me.”
“Did Victor say the other guy’s name?”
“Elliot.” She shuddered. “A real creep. I think they went to high school together.”
“What made you think that?”
“Elliot talked about their gang. The Recluses.”
“Not a very scary name,” Tess said. “A recluse likes to be left alone. Maybe they thought they were outcasts.”
“That fits,” Roxanne said. “I sure didn’t want anything to do with either of them.”
Nolan turned away from the table and spoke so Coltrane could hear him. “The name is Elliot. Does that match up with any of Victor’s high school friends?”
“I’m checking the list,” Coltrane said. “There were four guys expelled. None named Elliot.”
“Contact Amelia and have her expand the search to include his whole class and his teachers. Tell her to look for the Recluse gang.”
“It’s a good lead. If Elliot is still in the area, Victor could be staying with him.”
Nolan hoped so. It would be better for Bart if Victor was holed up with a high school buddy. If Victor had turned his father over to Greenaway, Bart didn’t stand a chance.
Through the bug, he heard Tess talking. “You said that Victor thought attacking you was part of a mission. What else did he say about his revenge?”
“He and Elliot had already done something terrible to their former principal’s new car. They talked about an explosion and laughed. Victor got right in my face and told me that he’d learned about more than setting bombs when he was in Afghanistan. He’d learned how to inflict pain.”
“You must have been terrified.”
“Hell, yes. And he said the worst suffering wasn’t physical. He talked about how his father hurt him without touching him. Victor wanted to get even.”
Tess asked, “How did you get away from him?”
“He tied my wrists and ankles. Then he shoved me into the basement of my house and nailed the door shut. He said this was my just punishment. If I reported it to the police, he’d be back.”
“Did you?” Tess asked. “Did you call the police?”
“No way. It took me a couple of hours to get out, and I considered myself lucky to be alive. I never told anybody. Until now.”
“I appreciate your help,” Tess said.
“Just make sure that Bart knows what I did.” Roxanne finished the dregs of her wine. “Maybe it’s just as well that nothing worked out between me and Bart. I don’t think I could handle being Victor’s stepmother.”
Nolan doubted that any sane woman would sign up for that job. If Bart hadn’t been the toughest son-of-a-gun that he’d ever known, he might not have survived as Victor’s father.
Nolan couldn’t push the nagging fear to the back of his mind. Victor’s revenge might have already overtaken Bart. There was no guarantee that he was still alive.
TESS ENTERED NOLAN’S suite carrying the black trash bag that held Joey’s already wrapped Christmas presents. For a moment, she stood and stared. The central room was as large as the living room and dining room of her house. Every flat surface had an arrangement of flowers suitable for the Christmas season—winter roses in white and green, pine boughs and poinsettias. On a large oblong meeting table was a fruit basket that had been unwrapped but was mostly uneaten.
“Fabulous.” She meandered past the sofa and green striped chairs, ran her fingers along the polished cherry tables and side tables. The twelfth floor windows had an incredible view of the Washington Monument.
By some decorating marvel, the posh antique ambience of the room wasn’t ruined by the massive flat-screen television hanging on the wall over a credenza. She opened a door on the left side to a full-size bedroom with a king-size, four-poster bed. One of her favorite luxuries was bedding. The duvet was fine linen, pale green. When she caressed one of the pillows, she recognized Egyptian cotton with a thread count in the thousands. Lying on these sheets would be like floating on a cloud.
She opened another door. “And it’s a walk-in closet. There’s only one lonely suit hanging in here.”
“For the Smithsonian thing,” he said.
“Really? I thought I might talk you into playing Santa.”
“Not while I’m doing security. A shoulder holster doesn’t fit with a red suit and fake beard.”
Since Joey was playing campout with Zachary, she didn’t feel like she had to rush back to the Pierpont House to take care of him. If any problem arose, Stacy would call her. Tess was free for the night.
“Can I get you a drink?” Nolan asked.
“Any red wine is okay for me.”
She followed him into the central room. Here she was…in a fabulous hotel suite…with a man she was attracted to. If tonight followed a natural progression, she might end up in that bed, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets with Nolan.
Did she dare? There wasn’t any possibility of a relationship. After the Christmas Eve event, he’d be heading back to Texas. They probably wouldn’t see each other again, which meant that tonight was a one-night stand. If she could get away tomorrow, it might be two nights. And that wasn’t her sty
le.
Tess was responsible and careful. And she hadn’t made love for five years. She could count on one hand—on two fingers, actually—the number of men who had kissed her since her husband died.
Nolan placed the wineglass in her hand. “It’s chilled. There’s a mini-fridge under the wet bar.”
“Of course there is.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “Here’s to you for being so clever and planting a bug at the table so I wouldn’t have to repeat Roxanne’s story.”
“You’re the clever one.” He clinked the rim of his glass against hers. “You did a great job with her, asking all the right questions.”
She took a sip. “Good wine.”
“Good company.”
“What happens next?” she asked. “How is this Elliot person significant?”
“If Victor is in town and isn’t directly connected with Greenaway, he needs a place to stay. He might look up his old buddy, Elliot.”
“Do you think Bart is with Victor?”
“I wish I knew.”
Remembering what Roxanne had said about Victor’s revenge mission and his father, Tess feared for Bart’s safety. “We’ve got to hope for the best.”
He sat close to her on the sofa and placed his wineglass on the coffee table. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Everybody has their own set of tragedies. That’s life.”
“I want to make it better.” He slipped off his horn-rimmed glasses and set them on the table beside the half-full glass of wine. “I want you to be happy.”
Her gaze sank into his gray eyes. She was mesmerized by the gentle warmth reflected in the prisms and facets of his irises. His eyes were so familiar. Had she dreamed of him last night? Had she known him before they met?
She took another sip of the red wine. Her glass joined his on the table. She wanted her hands free. Reaching toward him, she traced a long scar on the left side of his face. His skin was rough and mottled. “Did I ever thank you for saving my life?”
“It’s not necessary.”
He leaned toward her. She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her. Her heartbeat fluttered. The anticipation was killing her.