“Sure, thanks. But I’ll get it. You continue with your cooking.”
Ashley told him where everything was and watched as he retrieved his mug from beside the lounge. She was busy chopping red, yellow and green peppers when he joined her in the kitchen. He dwarfed the space and didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry to return to his stool on the other side of the counter. She glanced nervously at him, but his gaze was on the yellow Post-Its dotting her fridge door.
“I hope you don’t mind pepper in your omelet,” she said, attempting to draw his attention.
“No, I don’t.” His gaze stayed glued on the notes.
“Hey.”
He looked at her and cocked an arched eyebrow.
“Don’t you know it’s considered rude to read someone’s messages?”
“I know.” He leaned against the counter, tilted his head to the side and contemplated her with a thoughtful expression. “I could apologize and tell you I’m sorry, but I’d be lying. You fascinate me.”
Ashley finished cutting up the vegetables and added them to the pan. “Why?”
“The truth?”
“Absolutely.”
“I want you in my bed.” She blinked at his boldness, her hand moving faster and faster as she turned the omelet. “Or yours. I don’t have a preference, really. It could even be on the floor or a couch, standing, sitting, or lying down. It doesn’t matter as long as I make us happy. I want to kiss you all over. I want to hear my name on your lips when you come apart, when I—”
The telephone interrupted him. Ashley put the knife down and dove for the phone like a drowning person would a passing log. Her hands shook as X-rated images flashed in her head, and her galloping heartbeat made speech difficult.
“Yes?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Totally pathetic.
“Ashley? Is that you?”
It was Jeremy Kirkland. She had to clear her voice before saying louder, “Yes, Uncle Jerry.”
“I want us to meet at my home instead of the office,” Kirkland said briskly.
Something in his voice pushed Ron’s seductive words to the inner recess of her mind and brought back sanity. “Sure, Uncle Jerry. Is everything okay? You sound funny.”
“Everything is fine.” There was silence, then, “Nothing I can’t handle.”
There was a loud noise in the background then she heard him curse. “Uncle Jerry? Are you okay?” There was silence. “Hello. Are you still there? Uncle Jerry?”
“Yes.” His voice was breathless. “I don’t know what’s going on, but someone on a motorbike has been following me these couple of days. I thought I saw him outside the building as I drove in.”
Why would anyone be following him? Kirkland was semi-retired from the law firm he co-founded. He only handled a few accounts, including hers. “Are you alone in the office?”
“For the moment I’m in the underground garage, heading to the elevators,” Kirkland said. “I don’t want you to worry about me. Shouldn’t have mentioned the biker, except I wanted you to know why we’ll be meeting at home. Give me an hour or so. I mean to stop by the police station and give them the description. Just a second.”
Silence followed.
“Hello,” Ashley said into the phone after a while. “Uncle Jerry?” When her cell indicated the call was terminated, Ashley put the phone down. “That’s strange.”
“What is?” Ron asked. He had taken over from where she’d stopped, finished cooking the eggs and now scooped them into two plates.
“That was Jeremy Kirkland. He wants us to meet at his home. Thanks,” she added when he slid a plate in front of her.
Ron frowned, wolfing down his food. “What’s strange about that?”
“He thinks someone has been following him. He sounded scared, so unlike himself. He said he was going to the police, told me to wait a second then hung up. Why would anyone follow Uncle Jerry? He’s a harmless, old man. What if he’s in trouble?”
“Easy, sweetheart.” Ron squeezed her hand, his eyes searching her face. “Why don’t you call him back?”
She should have thought of that. Why did she always choose the worst-case scenario? She quickly dialed his cell number, but the phone went unanswered. She couldn’t control the fear that gripped her.
“He’s not answering. Do you think…?” She shook her head. It was foolish to ask Ron if she was worried over nothing or if the aging lawyer could really be in trouble. That old man had been like a father to her. If he were in trouble, she had to help him.
Ashley plucked a sheet from a Post-It and scribbled like crazy, then pressed it on the fridge door. Only then did she look at Ron. “I have to go to his office and make sure he’s okay. Finish your breakfast. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I’m coming with you,” Ron said. He pushed his half-eaten food aside and went to get his socks and shoes.
“Thanks. I’ll call the cops too, just in case.” She grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911.
CHAPTER 9
Ron gave Ashley a concerned glance. She had been shredding her lower lip ever since they left her place. She was convinced that something had happened to Kirkland.
“Ease up, sweetheart.” He reached over and briefly gripped her hand. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
“You didn’t hear the fear in his voice, Ron. Who would anyone follow Uncle Jerry? He’s such a nice guy.”
Even nice lawyers could rub a client the wrong way, he thought, but he was sure she would not want to hear that. “You need to stop thinking about the worst case scenario. There’s probably a good explanation for his behavior.”
She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. “Like I said, you didn’t hear him. Uncle Jerry is not easily scared. Someone is…was after him. Can we go a little faster, please?” she urged.
If they went any faster, they’d end up on top of the cars in front of them. “What kind of clients does Kirkland work with?”
“Not the kind who’d want to hurt him. He doesn’t even accept new clients anymore. The ones he has are older people who’ve been with him for years. Most of them are actually his close friends.”
“There you go. Friends don’t do each other in.”
“What about their children?” she added with a frown. “Maybe someone wants their trust fund, and Uncle Jerry is in the way.”
A smile crossed his lips. Ashley, he was quickly finding out, was stubborn once she decided on something. Arguing with her was pointless. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
For a while, they drove in tense silence. At the next stop light, Ron studied Ashley’s profile from the corner of his eye. She held her auburn hair in a ponytail, but a few strands escaped and now caressed her soft cheeks. Her eyes were narrowed with distress, her brow furrowed and hands clenched. He wished he could ease her worries.
If people had told him a week ago that he’d be more concerned about comforting a woman he was attracted to than bedding her, he would have said they were out of their minds. Earlier, when she looked at him with concern, he almost explained why he was tired and sleepy, which would have led to why winning the McClain contract was important to him. He wasn’t yet ready to share his dysfunctional family’s dirty laundry. What then did he want from Ashley? As a rule, he didn’t do relationships. The women he bedded knew the score from the word go.
If there was something he learned since he was a kid, it was never to leave himself vulnerable. People were vicious. Like predators, they knew when a person was at his weakest point, knew when to swoop down to do more damage. The only way to survive was to be vigilant, to stay strong.
“Ron?” Ashley touched his arm then her hand dropped and accidentally grazed his thigh.
His muscles tightened. “What is it?”
“You were so deep in thought. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. Could you turn right at the next light? That should bring us to the back of Uncle Jerry’s building and near the entra
nce of their underground parking garage.”
Ron nodded then muttered a curse a few minutes later when he entered the street and saw a crowd of people and squad cars near Valley Towers. The top part of an ambulance was visible from where they were.
“Oh, no,” Ashley murmured. “Stop the car.”
“Ashley, don’t jump to any conclusions just yet.”
“Just stop the car, Ron. Please.” She threw off her seat belt, readied herself to get out at a moment’s notice.
Ron looked up and down, but cars lined the street on both sides. There was nowhere to park. He stopped in the middle of the street. “Ashley—”
“Find a place to park and catch up,” she yelled, as she jumped out and hurried toward the crowd.
He stared after her and shook his head. A car honked behind him and he stepped on the gas. Five minutes later, he found a spot to park.
By the time he caught up with Ashley, a young officer was asking her, “Are you Mr. Kirkland’s relative, ma’am?”
“A family friend,” she answered, craning her neck to see what the paramedics were doing. “How badly hurt is he? Is he going to be okay? Can I ride with him in the ambulance?”
“Only immediate family,” the officer explained impatiently. “Move away from the yellow tape, miss.”
“But I’m his niece,” Ashley interjected. “Well, you know, not blood niece, but close. I’m practically family.” When the officer scowled at her, she took a step back. “You could at least tell me what hospital they’re taking him to.” The officer ignored her.
Ron tugged Ashley’s arm. “Come on.”
“Can you believe this guy?” She jerked her head toward the police officer. “He won’t tell me what’s going on or let me through. If I hadn’t called them, they wouldn’t have known about the accident.”
“I know. Let’s go back to the car. We can follow the ambulance.”
“What did she say?” the officer interrupted their exchange. “Are you the woman who reported the attack?” When Ashley nodded, he said, “Wait just a minute. You fled the scene of the crime.” Before Ashley could say anything, the officer dropped his chin to talk into his walkie-talkie. “Sir, I’ve apprehended the suspect…yes, sir…she’s right here with me.”
“Suspect?” Ashley screeched.
“Officer, there’s a misunderstanding,” Ron interrupted. “Ms. Fitzgerald is not a suspect.”
The burly police officer turned to stare at them with piercing eyes. “She reported talking with Kirkland before the attack, called 911, then disappeared. Were you with her at the time, sir?”
This was ridiculous. Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making a grave mistake, Officer…?”
“Rudolf. And there’s no mistake.”
“Listen,” Ron snapped. “Mr. Kirkland called Ms. Fitzgerald on his cell phone. He hung up abruptly, but when she called him back, he didn’t pick up his phone. That’s when she called 911. She had no idea what was going on. She was merely concerned.”
“You’re saying she didn’t witness the incident?” Officer Rudolf asked.
“Yes,” Ashley and Ron said in unison.
“We have to straighten this out.” The officer muttered a curse. “At least ten officers are going through this building questioning people and trying to find you, Ms. Fitzgerald. We’d assumed that you were either involved or witnessed Mr. Kirkland’s attack. Excuse me.” The officer radioed someone on his walkie-talkie and explained the situation.
When the ambulance started up the ramp, the on-lookers moved back and out of the way. Ron turned to Ashley. “We need to go.”
“Not so fast, sir,” Officer Rudolf ordered. “We need a statement from the lady first.”
“Not now, please.” Ashley pointed at the ambulance. “We must follow them.”
“Ashley?” Ron said at the same time as the officer chimed, “Ma’am?”
Ashley scowled. “You’re not going to detain me here, Officer Rudolf. Not when my uncle needs me. I must be at the hospital when they bring him in or Aunt Sonya…oh, Sonya.” She covered her mouth, her eyes rounded. “Ron,” she whispered. “We have to tell her what happened.”
Ron turned to Officer Rudolf. “Has someone informed Mrs. Kirkland what happened, sir?”
“A squad car was sent to his home, if that’s what you’re asking,” the officer answered. “About that statement, Ms. Fitzgerald?”
Ashley sighed. “Listen, I must be at the hospital for my aunt,” Ashley added. “She’ll need me. She’s very frail, and the shock of seeing her husband might be too much for her. Please.” The officer remained unmoved. “If you need someone to vouch that I won’t disappear on you, call my cousins or uncle. They’re in the force, just at different precincts.”
The officer’s gaze narrowed. “You’re taking about Captain Lou Fitzgerald and his son Eddie and nephew—”
“Yes,” Ashley said, her eyes on the ambulance as it disappeared down the street. “Where are they taking him?”
“Good Samaritan,” Officer Rudolf said. “But I must have your full name and address.”
Ashley froze, her eyes fixed on the line of squad cars leaving the parking garage. Then she clutched her throat and started to cough.
“Ashley?” Ron reached for her. “Are you okay?”
“Smoke,” she whispered.
“What?” Ron asked.
She staggered, her eyes filled with confusion. “I remembered something.”
“Is she okay?” Officer Rudolf asked from behind them.
“No, she isn’t. She needs to sit down.” Ron placed his arms protectively around Ashley.
He gave the officer Ashley’s phone numbers and address, his name and phone number, before he led Ashley to his truck. As they walked, his arms tightened around her when she stumbled.
“I remembered something, Ron. The image was so real. I was in a room, a dark room, and it smelled kind of funny. I was looking through an opening into that room.”
“What room?”
“The one in the pictures you showed me. There was smoke everywhere.” She frowned and rubbed her temple. “I was more scared of something else, not sure what, than I was of the fire. Does that make sense?”
Ron nodded. It did if someone or something had frightened her before the fire started. “Absolutely. C’mon. Into the car you go.” He helped her in and started to buckle her seatbelt.
“Hey, I’m not an invalid,” she protested with a slight grin and snapped the seatbelt on. But the smile was gone from her lips by the time Ron sat in the driver’s seat. “This isn’t the first time I remembered something about that night.”
“What have you remembered?” He pulled out of the parking lot. “And what triggered them?”
“I think seeing the ambulance or the squad cars might have triggered this one, but the first one occurred when we were discussing the pictures. I remembered that I was filthy that night.” She massaged her temples. “It didn’t make any sense. Carlyle House was a first class club. Why would I be dirty? ”
Why indeed. When he’d seen the footage of the chaos outside the house on the night of the fire, Ashley had a blanket around her. The brave expression on her face had held his interest more than anything else. He tried to recall the layout. The last time he’d gone there was eight years ago, after his family fixed it up and before the nuns moved in. He’d never actually seen every room and couldn’t say whether there were dusty hidden closets or dingy, funny-smelling rooms.
“Have you gone back to Carlyle House since the fire?” he asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to?” When she hesitated, he added, “It might help jog your memory.”
Furrowed lines appeared on her forehead. “Yes. I think I’d like to visit it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it before, even after I read that it was on the market. But now I’m ready.”
Outside Good Samaritan ER, he used the valet service the hospital offered its patients. His gut tightened with each step. He hated ho
spitals. Hated the way they smelled, the sterile atmosphere, the white walls and gray floors. Every damn time he stepped into one, someone he cared about ended up dying.
She slipped her hand through his as they approached the doors. Her hand clenched and her feet faltered before they could enter the building. She shot him a glance from underneath her lashes. “You don’t have to come in with me, Ron. I will be okay. I can handle it from here.”
Accept her offer and run, man. How he wished he could, but he couldn’t just abandon her. She might not be ready to admit it, but she needed him.
“I don’t mind,” he lied. He took a deep breath and steeled himself as they walked into the building.
The smell assaulted his nose, sounds of screaming babies and groaning patients hit his ears. His chest tightened and a cold knot formed in his gut. People with their ailing loved ones glanced at them, then away. The nurses and the orderlies hurried past, hardly paying them any attention.
Suddenly, he was twenty years old again. Then, he’d accompanied his mother to see his father. The old man hadn’t lasted more than a couple of days. Six months later, his grandmother Deanne had taken ill. Again, endless trips to the hospital followed by death.
By the time they reached the ER information desk, Ron was sweating, his heart pounding.
“Excuse me. Ma’am?” Ashley hailed one of the people behind the counter. “The ambulance dropped off a Mr. Kirkland here a few minutes ago. Could you tell us about his condition?”
“Are you family?” the woman asked, her gaze moving from Ashley to Ron, then back to Ashley.
“Close family friends,” Ashley answered. “We’re waiting for Mrs. Kirkland, his wife, to join us and…oh, there she is.” Her voice ended in a whisper.
Ron watched Ashley hurry toward a thickset woman in beige pants and a floral blouse. Mrs. Kirkland’s eyes were puffy and red, as though she’d cried all the way from her home. When she saw Ashley, relief flashed in her eyes, then a fresh flood of tears started.
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