by Molly Harper
Regina’s smile disappeared.
“It was a graduation gift from your parents, as I recall,” Dotty added. “And I think my mother mentioned something about your parents claiming your business as a recurring loss on their taxes?”
“I’m sure your mother misunderstood,” Regina snapped. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think Deacon could use a drink.”
Before Nina could respond, Regina snatched the double vodka from the bar and slithered across the rooftop. Nina’s lip curled back from her teeth in a snarl she didn’t know she was capable of. And when Regina pressed the glass into Deacon’s hand and ran her fingers along the sleeve of his jacket, she growled, “I think I want to shave her head.”
“I thought you weren’t interested in Deacon in that way.” Dotty kept her eyes wide and innocent.
“The situation changed.” Nina’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. And now I kind of want to shave her head.”
“That’s my girl.” Dotty giggled, slipping her arm through Nina’s and leading her toward the social train wreck that was Deacon trying to dislodge Regina.
“Nina, it’s nice to see you.”
Nina froze. The voice made her insides turn to water.
She turned to see Rick Douglas—tall, dark, and sociopathic—standing behind her. He was in his element at this kind of affair, wearing a well-cut black suit and a tailored shirt. If not for the cold cruelty radiating from his dark brown eyes, he might have looked the dashing storybook hero. At one point, she had seen him that way, which may have been the reason she’d let him get away with so much before finally accepting that he was not only a bad business partner but a bad person.
Between the clothes and the meticulously styled hair, no one would have guessed that this was a man who worked in the outdoors. Of course, technically, he didn’t. He left that to his crews. The deep, golden “workman’s” tan was accomplished by visiting one of those spray tanning places twice a week.
Over his shoulder, Nina could see Regina shooting her a triumphant smirk. And the mystery of how Rick had snagged an invitation to this party was solved.
As usual, Rick was staring down his nose at her as if Nina embarrassed him just by standing there in her borrowed dress. Dotty’s hand slipped away, and Nina was left without a tether. Suddenly, she couldn’t draw breath even to speak. There were so many things she wanted to say to Rick or, better yet, heavy objects that she wanted to throw at him. Who did he think he was? What gave him the right to follow her around, terrorizing her? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and move on with his life?
But instead, she was staring at him, silent and practically shaking with rage, giving him the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable she was. At the first test of the bravery and peace she’d promised herself she would find on the island, she was failing. She felt so weak and stupid, just standing there clenching and unclenching her freezing-cold hands while the edges of her vision blurred hazy red.
Then Deacon’s arm was around her waist, pulling her to his side. Instantly, her nerves settled, and her stomach stopped rolling. Her vision cleared, and she found she could breathe deeply again. Deacon rubbed her arm gently while staring through Rick, as if he was a particularly annoying pane of glass.
Nina was finally able to focus on Rick’s stupid, smarmy face as he winked at her and said, “Oh, you know me, Nina, I love a good party. And when you run a thriving business, it’s important to make contacts wherever you go.”
Maybe her business would thrive if he would just leave her the hell alone, she thought, as rational thinking bubbled up through the dissipating haze of pissed-off panic. She arranged her lips into what resembled a blithe, pleasant smile, as if she were actually pleased to see Rick and didn’t have a care in the world other than sweet-talking the caterer out of more shrimp balls.
Even being a champion bullshitter, Rick couldn’t hide the flash of irritation in his eyes or the flexing of his fingers, as if he was itching to smack the smile off Nina’s face. With some effort, Rick schooled his features into a more acceptable social mask. He reached out to shake Deacon’s hand, but Deacon merely stared, as if he was being offered a dead fish. Rick cleared his throat, clearly caught off-guard by the snub.
“Deke, good to see you again.”
Nina felt Deacon bristle at the familiarity and the use of the dreaded high school nickname, and she couldn’t help but smirk at her former boss’s gaffe. Now it was her turn to give Deacon’s hand a comforting rub. Rick lacked the sense to pick up on the tension and continued with his we’re just a couple of bros here spiel.
“Mr. Douglas. I don’t remember seeing your name on the guest list.”
“Oh, I was lucky enough to be asked as a plus-one,” Rick said, glancing in Regina’s direction before quickly averting his eyes.
DEACON WOULD HAVE to have a serious talk with his security team. Invitational charity event or not, they still needed to check IDs before letting people into the building. His sudden urge to place Nina in one of those hyperenforced, suspended Loki chambers for her own protection was overwhelming. Jake could put one together, he was sure of it. But he was sure that Nina would object to being imprisoned like a Marvel Universe supervillain. Also, Dotty and Cindy would just let her out the moment his back was turned.
And unfortunately, during his mental escapade, that douchebag Rick was still talking. “Wonderful place you have here, though the landscaping up here leaves much to be desired. I’d be happy to put together a bid for a rooftop garden. A few ornamental Japanese cherry trees here and there—”
Deacon’s smile was just as smarmy. “Actually, Nina has already presented me with a comprehensive plan for the rooftop. I couldn’t be more pleased with her ideas.”
Nina tried not to let her surprise show through her pleasant mask. She wasn’t aware that threatening silk trees was considered a comprehensive plan, but she wasn’t about to let Rick see her contradict her boss.
“Well, if that’s the way you want to go, that’s your choice. By the way, how is our little Nina doing out at your job site?” Rick asked as he sipped his Scotch.
Deacon directed a fond glance at Nina, making her cheeks go pink. “I’m very pleased with her work.”
“I’m sure you are,” Rick said with barely concealed nastiness. “I mean, you would have to be, to hire a total unknown like her when there were so many other experienced firms bidding. I’m sure she pulled out all of the tricks in her bag to get the job.”
“Talent always shines through,” Deacon said, his voice glacial.
“Oh, I know all about Nina’s talent,” Rick assured him, his eyes raking down Nina’s body.
Nina’s jaw dropped, and she surprised even herself when she stepped forward to do some sort of swizzle-stick-related violence against him.
But Deacon pulled her closer to his side, then smiled just as smugly. “I doubt that very much,” he said smoothly. “Excuse us. There are some people we need to speak to.”
Deacon ignored Rick’s sputtering after them as he led Nina through the crowd. It was only then that Nina realized that Jake and Cindy had moved in behind her and Deacon during the conversation and were now preventing Rick from following them by pretending to be interested in his business. Deacon pulled his phone from his pocket, furiously texting with one hand while snagging two glasses of the champagne from a passing tray. He handed them both to Nina.
“Thanks for being the voice of reason,” she said between gulps of exquisitely delicate bubbly she barely even tasted. “I would have hated to break up your party when the cops were called. I’m pretty sure stabbing someone with a swizzle stick is a felony.”
“It was as much for me as for you. What an asshole!” Deacon exclaimed. “How did you stand working with that douche for two years?”
“He wasn’t always that bad,” she promised. “He’s just not used to getting one-upped. It’s like dealing with a toddler. You don’t give him what he wants, and eventually the tantrum becomes less a
bout the thing he wants and more about not wanting to be thwarted.”
“Regina invited him. I just texted my security chief. She was the only guest with an unnamed plus-one. I just don’t get why she would do it.”
“Really? You don’t know why Regina would want me to be uncomfortable and socially stressed, maybe make a scene at one of your events and embarrass you? Regina strikes me as the type who likes to sweep the field clear of competition, real or imagined. And if she thought there was a possibility that you would bring me here as your date, she would want to be prepared.” When Deacon’s eyes widened, she gave a tinkling laugh. “Women are complicated, terrifying creatures.”
“You’re not kidding.” Suddenly, he turned to her. “I can have him ejected from the party, you know. It’s one of the perks of hosting these things. I can have people thrown out. And Tasered. Maybe even cavity-searched.”
“As much as I appreciate it, that wouldn’t do any good.” She sighed, reaching out to squeeze his hands. “It would cause a scene, which might make the news, particularly the cavity search. It would make a poor impression on your guests. And Rick would know that he upset me, which I would like to avoid. Better to let him soak up all that free Scotch and make an ass out of himself in front of a bunch of potential clients.”
“Weapons of self-destruction, I like it. But seriously, I’ve waited my whole life to attain the power to kick assholes like that out of my parties. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she promised.
Behind him, a jazz trio started to play, having waited until after the cocktail hour to begin their set. “Wanna dance?”
“I can’t remember the last time I danced,” she said, nodding. “A cousin’s wedding, maybe, five years ago.”
“I can beat that,” he said. “Senior prom, sixteen years ago.”
“Ouch.”
“Dotty was my date.”
“Double ouch.”
He led her to the dance floor, holding her hand as gently as he would a mint-condition action figure. He slid his other hand around her waist and held her right hand at the proper angle while they swayed in small concentric circles. Dotty was dancing with an older man who was looping her around the floor in wide circles. Cindy had refused all requests for dances but had allowed Jake to get her a few more pastries, which they were planning to enjoy on the fire escape, far from the crowd.
When was that girl going to take pity on him?
Deacon snapped her out of her reverie. “You’re actually doing me a favor, you know.”
“I am?”
“If the whispering among my staff is any indication, this dance is probably serving as the office pool breaker for ‘Is Deacon Whitney asexual?’ ”
“That’s kind of insulting. How is that helping you?”
He shrugged. “I put fifty dollars down on ‘not asexual.’ ”
“They let you bet?”
“Well, I bet under Vi’s name.”
Nina’s laugh came out as more of a cackle, much louder than she intended. And the way she slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound made Deacon guffaw.
While Deacon’s employees grumbled among themselves and exchanged bills, another pair of dark eyes watched the couple from the bar. Angry, vicious dark eyes zeroed in on the redheaded dirt-grubber, the pretender sucking up all of the attention and opportunities that belonged to the more deserving.
JAKE PADDED DOWN the hall from the shower room to his bedroom, whistling a little tune under his breath. Thunder rolled outside, making the lights flicker under the strain of the storm. The helicopter had barely dropped them off in time, before the rain started. The sight of Nina, Cindy, and Dotty hustling across the lawn, high-heeled shoes in hand, trying to protect their dresses from the rain, still had him smiling. He wrapped the towel around his neck, squeezing the last drops of water from his thick hair.
“Good night!” he called down the hall, receiving a grunt from Deacon in return. His best friend was currently facedown on his bed, exhausted from the effort of being social all evening. Jake grinned, nudging his bedroom door open. Before he could flick on his light switch, he saw the curvy feminine shape outlined against his bed by the lightning outside. Her back was turned to the door. He grinned, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Cindy.
To say he was surprised to find her waiting for him was a massive understatement. They’d had a very nice time at the party, and he’d taken pains to behave like a gentleman. He hadn’t even made any double entendres, and with Deacon’s employees’ discussions of hard drives, he’d had ample opportunities. He’d walked her to her door, and she’d offered him a sweet, perfunctory kiss on the lips.
But here she was, in his bed, her long blond hair falling in damp waves over his pillow.
He sincerely hoped she hadn’t actually meant to crawl into Deacon’s room, because that would have been demoralizing.
“Hey, doesn’t this break about a dozen of your rules?” he whispered. “Not that I mind, but you were pretty firm about the whole ‘no-fly zone’ thing.”
Jake tried to remember how many drinks she’d had during the party. Surely two or three martinis weren’t enough to have her mistaking his room for hers. As much as he wanted her there, he didn’t want her to act now and regret it later, undoing all of the trust he’d built with her.
The lightning flashed, and the windows practically rattled with the force of the thunder. Cindy stayed completely still, save for the rise and fall of the blankets as she breathed. Jake wondered if she’d fallen asleep while she was waiting for him. He wouldn’t mind that, he supposed. He didn’t know if he would be comfortable doing anything besides spooning, with Deacon just a few yards away. He was a man who appreciated his privacy.
Tossing the towel aside, Jake lifted the blankets to slide in beside her. For a moment, he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Or, rather, what he wasn’t seeing. There were no legs under his sheets. Trembling, he leaned over the bed, trying to get a better look at her face.
“Cindy?”
The figure rolled toward him, thick wet coils of faded blond hair hanging over a face blued by water and time. She was falling apart, right before his eyes, her skin hanging loose, rotting from bones it wasn’t quite connected to anymore. The drooping lips were purple and ragged. Her eyes were white, opaque as milk, and staring up at him, pleading, silently screaming for help. Jake scrambled back, losing his footing on the rug and ramming his back into his dresser. The woman crawled over the sheets toward him, peering over the edge of the mattress while he sprawled on the floor.
“Gerald,” the figure whispered, before fading away.
Jake stared at the bed and the sheets left rumpled by what should have been a figment of his imagination. But figments didn’t leave behind rumpled sheets. Which meant that there was a ghost in his bed. And given the blond hair and the “recently waterlogged” appearance, it was the ghost of Catherine Whitney.
“What the hell?” he yelped.
A few moments later, Deacon came thundering into the room. And Jake suddenly realized there was no way he was going to explain this situation, not with the lightning crashing outside and the wind howling. It was just too creepy, as if verbalizing what he saw would make it more real.
Also, he was going to have to wash those sheets.
“What’s going on?” Deacon demanded. “This whole shrieking-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing is getting old really quick.”
“Uh, I saw a spider,” Jake said. “A big one.”
“You saw a spider?” Deacon asked. “That made you scream like a girl and knock your dresser into the wall so hard it knocked over my nightstand?”
Jake held his hands a few inches apart. “Big one.”
Deacon frowned down at him.
“Sorry,” Jake said. “I think I’ll sleep out on the couch.”
Deacon scoffed. “What?”
Jake stared at the bed, which he doubted he would ever thi
nk of as comfortable again. “I don’t know where it went. I’m not sleeping in a room with a big spider.”
Deacon objected. “But with the storm—”
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. Because there was no way he was going to be able to answer, I’m pretty sure your great-great-grandmother’s ghost just tried to cuddle with me.
“All right, good night,” Deacon called over his shoulder.
“Good night.” Jake padded back down the hallway with considerably less pep in his step, clutching his blanket to his chest like a shield.
What had just happened? Sure, he’d had visions in the house. He’d felt strange sensations. But hadn’t Dotty said that full apparitions were a rare occurrence? Why would Catherine Whitney appear to him in that waterlogged, corpse-like state? In his previous experiences with Catherine, she’d appeared young and beautiful and anatomically intact. Why would she suddenly try to scare him? Were they getting closer to the truth of her murder? Was it that couples in the house seemed to be pairing off and that made her angry or jealous? Was she trying to warn them about something?
He would talk to Dotty about it in the morning. For now, he was just going to sit and stare at the walls until the sun came up.
Unleash the F-Bombs
THE NEXT MORNING, Deacon sat in his office, drumming his fingers on his desk, waiting for Regina to arrive. He loathed the idea of allowing her back onto the island, anywhere near Nina, but he wanted to handle this meeting in person.
Regina’s inviting Rick to the charity party was unconscionable. Before, he might have tried to write it off as coincidence. It was possible that they’d met on a work site or even when Rick had bid for the job at Deacon’s office. Regina spent a lot of time skulking around his office.
He couldn’t take the path of least resistance with Regina anymore. It was far more likely that Regina had looked up Nina’s employment history, found out about the harassment reports, and connected with Rick in order to harass Nina even more. His blinders were off, particularly after he (somewhat illegally) accessed Regina’s EyeDee account and saw that she had recently sent an EyeContact request to Rick Douglas. And in a private message, she’d told him, “I think I can help you make sure a ‘mutual friend’ gets what she deserves. Discuss off of EyeDee,” and sent him an e-mail address to contact her. Regina had used Deacon’s own software to get at Nina. And he simply couldn’t allow that.