by Calinda B
She placed her bag beside her on the seat and realized what she’d thought was a menu was actually an electronic pad. The hostess still stood beside her table and pointed at it.
“All of our selections are on there. Simply click what you want and your server will bring it to you. If you have any questions, he’ll be happy to answer them. Your server’s name is Mark.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy.” Then she turned around and strutted off.
Ruby couldn’t help but watch the woman walk off. No way that ass could be real. She looked down at the device, made a selection for a dirty Martini, and sat back to scan the room.
It took her a minute to realize she was being observed. She wasn’t surprised or conceited. She knew men and some women were drawn to her. Much had changed. She’d lost all the baby fat, leaving nice curves. The need for glasses were fixed with a little eye surgery and the braces were now off, leaving her with perfect teeth. She couldn’t do anything about her height, though already tall for a woman, she didn’t bother to hide it. Instead, she reveled in it, hence the four-inch Christian Louboutins. She loved those red soles. And if a man couldn’t handle it, then too bad for him.
She shrugged off her jacket and made herself comfortable. In moments, her waiter came over with her drink order.
“Is the owner, Mr. Reid, around this evening?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. He might be. I just haven’t seen him yet.”
“Can you let him know I’d like to speak to him when he comes in?”
The young man grinned, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d heard such a request.
Ruby took a sip of her drink. She was going to need it.
3
Lucian entered the private entrance in the back of his club and took the elevator up a level. To say that he’d had a long day would be an understatement. Although he ran his own corporation, he still served as CFO of his father’s company. He’d been in meetings the entire day.
He glanced at his watch. It was six in the evening and his workday had yet to come to an end. He’d left his office at Cigar King Inc., and now he was entering his office in the Cigar King Club.
Lucian tossed his overcoat on the leather loveseat and hung his suit jacket behind his plush leather office chair. He sat, inhaled a deep breath and exhaled as he relaxed against the headrest. After a few precious seconds of peace, he could hear the click clack of his assistant’s shoes. Sheila had been working for him since he opened the very first Cigar King Club five years ago and he recognized her step pattern.
Lucian waved his hand toward the door, causing it to slam. When Sheila’s steps faltered and then reversed, he felt a tinge of guilt. She was a good assistant and he’d even considered her a friend, but he needed a bit of quiet time. He had hit the ground running ever since he returned to New York, working nonstop.
With another wave of his hand, he closed the blinds on his office door and windows. He did it without thinking. Using his telekinesis was just an afterthought to him, not something he gave much thought to other than to hide the ability from others. He planned to take a few minutes to look over his social calendar and check a few emails. However, before he could flip his computer open, he heard a knock at the door. He blew out a harsh breath, irritated by the nerve of whoever was knocking. His closed office door was a definite indication that he wasn’t to be disturbed.
“WHAT?” he barked.
The door eased open and Mark, one of his servers, poked his head inside. His nervous demeanor didn’t stop him from stepping further inside.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Lucian,” Mark began.
“So, why are you?”
Mark shifted nervously. “Th-there’s a woman downstairs asking for you.”
Lucian scratched the stubble on his jaw and glared at his anxious employee. “And?”
“Well… she’s been waiting awhile. She’s quite persistent. And she’s hot.”
Lucian swiveled in his chair and turned to look at the security cameras. “Where?”
Mark walked around Lucian’s desk and pointed at the camera. “There… in the black.”
Lucian leaned closer to the screen and looked at the lady in black. From what he could tell, she was stunning. It was no wonder why Mark risked Lucian’s wrath by disturbing him. Lucian turned back to his desk and slid his computer aside.
“Did she say what she wanted?” he asked the waiter.
“No. I didn’t ask.”
“Okay. Let her know that I’ll be down in a minute.”
Mark nodded. But as he walked out of the office, Lucian had a better idea.
“Hey, Mark!”
Mark stuck his head in the door.
“On second thought, have Sheila escort her up here.”
“Will do,” his employee assured.
When Mark’s head disappeared, Lucian waved a hand toward the door, closing it again. He reached for the antique humidor that he’d inherited from his late grandfather. He ran his fingers over the Reid family insignia while scolding himself for using his powers for something as trivial as opening and closing a door. He would bet that his beloved mother would be disappointed in him if she knew that the only time he used the gift she’d passed on to him was when he was being lazy.
Lucian pushed sad memories of his mom to the back of his mind and returned to the screen. He wanted to get another look at his visitor, but the sight of the new cashier swiping money from the register and slipping it into her bra caught his attention. He shook his head and leaned back in his seat. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she thought she wouldn’t get caught. It wasn’t like the cameras in the club were hidden.
Lucian picked up his cell and punched Sheila’s number.
“Sir?” she answered.
“That new girl… get her up here!”
After a brief pause, Sheila asked, “You mean Amy?”
“I don’t remember. The blonde. The cashier.”
“Amy,” Sheila confirmed.
Out of frustration, Lucian closed his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what her name is, Sheila!” he growled in a low menacing tone. “Get her up here!”
“Damn. Okay,” Sheila huffed before hanging up on him.
Lucian stared at the phone, thinking that she had some nerve hanging up on him. Why he was thinking that, he didn’t know. It wasn’t the first time she’d hung up on him. Sheila was not in the least bit intimidated by him.
He put his phone down just as there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for permission, Sheila opened the door and stepped inside. The woman from the club stepped in behind her. The camera didn’t do her justice. She was breathtaking; no matter how much she tried to hide it in business attire. She was wearing a sleek, black Capri pantsuit that couldn’t possibly conceal her curves. She was a tall woman, close to six feet. Lucian liked the fact that, despite being tall for a woman, she was confident enough to wear heels. Her long, reddish blonde hair was pulled away from her face into a ponytail that swung from behind her back, giving him an unobstructed view of her flawless copper complexion.
Was there something familiar about her? Had they met before? No, he’d remember someone who looked like her. Lucian stood and walked around his desk.
“Lucian Reid,” he introduced, extending his hand.
When she accepted his hand, he discretely checked her other hand for a wedding ring. There wasn’t one. Her hand was soft and warm, and he could feel a pulsing sensation between them. He wasn’t looking forward to letting it go.
“Ruby. Ruby Crane. Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Reid.”
“Please, come in. Have a seat.”
Lucian placed his hand at the small of her back and led her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He was about to sit in the chair next to her when his klepto cashier entered his office.
“You wanted to see me, boss?”
The stupid blonde actually had the nerve to have a smile on her face. Lucian turned to
Ruby.
“Please, excuse me for a second, Miss Crane.”
“Of course,” she responded with a soft, feminine tenor.
Forcing himself to look away from her beautiful, soft brown eyes, he walked over to Amy. The smile dropped from her face when he quickly reached into her bra and yanked his cash from her bosom. She gasped loudly then threw her hand over her mouth.
“You’re fired. Get the fuck out,” he ordered calmly.
Without a word, the thieving cashier hurried from his office. He turned to Sheila who still stood at the door.
“Keep your eye on that criminal until she’s out of my building.”
When Sheila nodded and left, closing the door behind her, Lucian turned to the lovely Ruby Crane. A look of utter shock was etched on her pretty face. It was almost comical.
The woman looked as if she was ready to jump up and either bolt from the room or slap him. He wasn’t sure which. He took the seat next to her and smiled. He’d been told that his smile was irresistible so he used it, hoping it would keep Miss Crane from running off.
“Sorry about that,” Lucian apologized.
“Um… sure.”
Lucian squinted as he studied the woman. Again, he had that feeling. Something about her was oddly familiar.
“What can I do for you, Miss Crane?”
“Ruby. Please, call me Ruby.”
She forced a smile and Lucian could tell that she was struggling to relax.
“Ruby,” he acquiesced with a nod. That must be it. The name triggered a memory. One he thought about from time to time. Not one of his finer moments. “How can I help you?”
4
At first, Ruby wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. When Lucian suddenly rammed his hand down that woman’s bra she was shocked, then when he pulled out a wad of money she was doubly shocked. Was that how he handled things? Kinda rough. Although, he looked anything but rough. He’d grown into his height and then some. The last time she’d seen him he was sixteen, the day her father had been formally charged with his mother’s kidnapping and murder. She’d sat a few rows behind her father in the courtroom with her mother. He sat on the other side with his father and wouldn’t look at her in the courtroom. When they were out in the hall, she’d called his name and knew he’d heard her. He’d shaken his head, turned his back on her, and walked away.
He was no longer that lanky boy, but a grown ass man about six three with dark, wavy messy hair, but it looked good on him. Damn, he was fine. She’d seen some cigar ads for his brand on the marquee on Times Square, and the model they used looked like an ogre compared to Lucian. And clearly the man didn’t just pay his membership fees at the gym but actually used the equipment. The crisp dress shirt could barely contain the outline of all that masculine flesh. Then again, if the tabloids were true, he also loved to ski and surf. Neither sport was for the physically unfit.
She gave him her name, looking to see if he had a flash of recognition, but of course he wouldn’t recognize her last name. After her father’s sentencing and subsequent death in prison, her mother changed their last names back to her maiden name. Ruby understood why she’d done it, to protect them. She could still remember the cameras that hounded them everywhere. They’d, of course, had to move and she’d had to change schools. It was easier when your last name wasn’t the same as a charged murderer in a notorious case. Never mind he never went to trial. The fact that he died in jail whether by his own hands or that of another convinced people of his guilt.
Normally, she could keep her feelings in check for the wrong done to her father and family, but not so tonight. Tonight, she had to face it head on, with the son of the woman her father was charged with kidnapping and killing.
She watched him frown as he waited for her to explain her request to see him. Was that a flash of recognition in his gaze? For the first time in a long time, she was unsure how to proceed. She wasn’t surprised if he didn’t immediately recognize her. Much had changed for them both. She was no longer the fourteen-year-old who’d worshiped him, loved him as only a fourteen-year-old could. Yet, she couldn’t deny a tiny part of her was still that fourteen-year-old girl.
So many emotions raced through her as she stared back at him, wondering if the boy she’d once worshipped still resided in there. Would they ever get back to the place they’d once been? Best friends, perhaps on the cusp of more. But this man, from all public accounts, did not seem the type to have females as ‘friends’ or anything more than bedmates. What did she want from him anyway? Should she tell him who she really was? That once upon a time, they’d been best friends?
He flashed what could only be a predatory smile when she uncrossed her legs and then crossed them again. His gaze travelled the entire length of her body. Maybe she wouldn’t lead with their past relationship. She couldn’t risk him tossing her out before he’d heard all of it.
“I’m an attorney at Pressey and O’Brian and my firm has taken on a case. I’m the lead on this case.” She paused, wanting to see if he wanted to say something. When he didn’t comment she kept going. “My client is Todd Croaker.”
His eyebrows rose at the mention of the man’s name. “The one being held for the kidnapping and death of…can’t remember her name.”
So, he did watch the news. The entire thing had dominated the print, air and internet news for the last few weeks now. “Yes, Emma Taylor.”
“I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“Let me tell you what we know or have uncovered so far. Some of it is not public. Then I hope that will help you to understand why I’m here this evening.”
“Well, you’ve damn well got my attention. Go on.”
“Mr. Croaker did not kidnap or kill Emma Taylor. We believe he was framed. Mr. Croaker knew Emma since she was a year old. He’d been her bodyguard, nanny, driver, even father figure, since neither of her parents had been much in her life. Both led busy lives always travelling, and Emma was left in Mr. Croaker’s care. According to everyone who’s been interviewed about their relationship, it was clear that they were close. When Emma was five, she began ballet lessons. Every Tuesday after school at four pm and Saturday at ten. She was very good, and my client took her to all those classes. He would remain there with the other parents or nannies with younger kids. Once Emma was about twelve, he would sometimes just drop her off and come back. Other times, he’d stay. He also took her to all her rehearsals once she was old enough to perform. He sat in the front row during most of her performances, and if he wasn’t there it was because he was in the back helping keep the kids in her group together and getting them on stage on time. Her parents went to one performance. She’d been performing from the age of five up until a month before her disappearance. Mr. Croaker has been to every one.”
She paused again to stare at him, but he was quiet and merely continued to watch her. But he was paying attention to what she had to say. Then he spoke. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. What does any of this have to do with me?”
“Please bear with me just for a few more minutes. I think you’ll see.”
He inclined his head toward her. “Okay, go on.”
“Two weeks ago, Emma didn’t show up for her Tuesday ballet class. Neither did Mr. Croaker although one of the parents thought she saw Mr. Croaker in the elevator as the door was closing, but she couldn’t be sure. She was distracted and there are many people in the building. It wasn’t until later that night when neither Mr. Croaker nor Emma returned to their penthouse apartment that anyone realized either was missing.
“Mr. Croaker put in a call to the police at ten twelve that night from Chelsea, nowhere near the ballet studio. He was at a bar waiting for the police after making his way out of a nearby alleyway. He had a broken rib and bruising all over his body, consistent with a beating. Croaker claimed they never made it to the ballet studio and that after he’d parked the car, a van had pulled up near them. Three men had gotten out and beat the crap out of him. He claimed he’d shot one, but his gun
was not found on him. He claims the men took the child. He has no knowledge of how he ended up where he did. He claims to have passed out. He had a concussion. Does any of this sound familiar?”
“I’m not sure what’s going on here or what you’re getting at…”
“Lucian. The address of the ballet studio is 524 East Central Street.”
He frowned. “Why the hell…” Then his eyes opened wide. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Ruby nodded. “No. There’s more. As with your mother’s case, an investigation determined that she’d been going to her yoga class on Tuesdays at four pm and Saturdays at ten am. But something you may not know and was glossed over during your mother’s investigation was that she would leave the house well over an hour on those days, before her scheduled class times. The drive should have taken roughly twenty minutes. Seems no one other than her driver knew what she had been doing between the time she left the house and arrived at her class. It was glossed over. The cops and the prosecutor believed she might have gotten to the studio early to visit with her friends or ran a few errands before her class started. Perhaps. However, it was dismissed out of hand. Yet, it was the same thing in Emma’s case. It should have taken them ten, fifteen minutes to get to the ballet studio. Instead, they also left the house well over an hour before her classes every Tuesday and Saturday.”
Lucian stood and raked his fingers through his hair. “What the fuck? What the fuck are you saying? What’s going on here?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. But as you can see the cases are parallel.”
“Are you saying the same people who took my mother also took this girl?”
“Yes. And if the circumstances run true then my client is in danger. Henry Stevenson was charged with a crime he didn’t commit, and he died in jail for it.”