by Cait London
Torn between frustration and confusion and anger, Nick grabbed her wrist, holding her still. “Maggie, I deserve some answers.”
Tears brimmed in those brownish-green eyes as she tried to tug away. Nick looked at the tear that had just fallen onto his hand. Gleaming and warm, it sent an emotional punch into his gut. “Maggie, please. What did I do wrong?”
“It isn’t you—” She flung herself into his arms, pressed tightly against him. When Nick’s arms locked around her, she pushed back and stood free. “It’s me. I’m no good for you. I’m no good in a relationship. You’ll find someone—”
There in the late afternoon sun, Nick’s emotions swung back to confusion and anger and hurt. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She seemed to brace herself, swallowing and dashing away the tears clinging to her lashes. “I’ve just got to go. It’s better this way.”
“That you would take my life and my heart from me? That you would take every dream and breath with you? How is it better? Explain that.”
“I’ll call you later. We’ll talk.”
“Dammit. Talk now. I’m bleeding to death right in front of you.”
With that, Maggie seemed to crumple, to fold into herself as if holding inner pain that could escape her control. With her arms around herself, she rocked silently.
Unable to stand more, Nick drew her into his arms, holding her tightly. He felt the trembling of her body as if her heart were trying to leap free. Against her damp cheek, he whispered rawly, “Maggie, don’t do this to us. Tell me why you’re afraid. Let me help. We’ll work through this together.”
She began to cry, really cry, deep draining sobs that seemed to be drawn painfully from her soul. Nick stroked her hair and rocked her, waiting for the worst to come.
When suddenly her arms pushed free and wrapped around him as if she would never let go, Nick began to hope. “You love me.”
“With all my heart.”
Her firm answer gave him more hope. Whatever had been between them was close and opening and raveling. “Then, Maggie, help me understand why you want to leave.”
Maggie shoved free again and her eyes were haunted as she looked up at him. She took a deep breath and said unevenly, “Nick, I’m bad luck. I’ve always been. For my family and for my friends, and I don’t want anything happening to you—or your family. I love them all.”
“I don’t follow. What makes you think so?”
She laughed shakily, but her gaze scanned the vineyards and the marsh. “I’ve had a lifetime of it. Do you think Scout could have been bitten by a snake out there?”
“Maggie. Think. Scout doesn’t go into the cattails unless she’s headed to my house. If she was bitten, she could still make it there. Now what is this about?”
Maggie shuddered slightly, and when Nick smoothed back her hair and wiped away her tears, she whispered, “Celeste died because of me. I know she did. The winery break-in, your business almost being destroyed, and Ed’s suicide. Oh, Nick, none of that was an accident. Ed didn’t commit suicide. He’s here…Brent Templeton is here and he’s…he’s after anyone dear to me. He’s going to destroy everything dear to me, just like before. He’s after Scout. He’ll hurt her, Nick.”
When Nick frowned, Maggie stood back from him. “You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe—”
“Maggie. I’m just trying to place the name with a face. I don’t know him.”
“I do. He’s evil and corrupt and insidiously destroys everything that comes in contact with him. You don’t believe that one person can do that, do you? Well, he can. He destroyed Glenda, and—”
Nick couldn’t breathe as he waited for her story. He felt as if everything in their future hung on what she told him. “What, Maggie?”
“And he destroyed my life. I met him five years ago. When he failed to seduce me, he went for Glenda. He insinuated that she was second best, playing on her insecurities. He virtually pitted my own sister against me, and I became her enemy—at least in her mind. She rebelled against everything and played right into his hands. He’s very good at what he does—controlling people, hurting them. He’s smart, insidious, and obsessive. Toss cruel into the mix.”
Maggie shivered in the warm air and continued as she seemed to step into the past. “He got Ryan under his thumb and Ryan didn’t believe me, and then the first thing I know, Brent is a full partner in our business. Poor-quality workout machines that would hurt someone were arriving at the gym, and there were harmful power energy boosters and body building drugs that Brent wanted us to market on the sly, and he got to Ryan. He got to Ryan so badly that Ryan was convinced that I had flirted with Brent, encouraging him. Ryan believed Brent. My own husband didn’t believe me. He wouldn’t support me to protect Glenda. Brent told me that he destroyed my sister because he couldn’t have me.”
She wrapped her arms around herself again, as if holding in her fears. “You’re frowning. You don’t understand. I’ve seen that look before—on Ryan…when he thought I was making everything up—”
Anger spiked again and Nick inhaled slowly. “I…am…not Ryan.”
“You don’t understand. If I leave now—with Scout—you’ll all be safe. I don’t know how Brent found us, but he has and he will destroy anything—anyone—close to me. He used to call, breathing like that, nothing more. It wasn’t Ed, as we had thought, it was Brent, letting me know he was around and waiting—he likes those games—and I was so certain that was all behind me that I didn’t think—”
Maggie paused for breath and shook her head. “But maybe I did. I never truly felt as if it were finished, the battle between Brent and myself. I had no closure to that, and now I know why—he’s not a man to stop destroying and he isn’t finished with me. I want you safe…your family safe, Nick. And Beth—Beth is expecting a baby. He’ll stop at nothing, even that. He made Glenda have abortions. He twines himself into everyone’s lives and then he twists and ruins. You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I believe you. Just tell me how you know he’s here. You’ve been fighting this, haven’t you? But now you have proof?”
She seemed stunned. “You…you believe me?” she asked incredulously.
“Of course. Now go on.” Now wasn’t the time to tell Maggie how badly she had hurt him, that she hadn’t trusted and believed in him and their love.
She blinked and shook, her eyes wide upon him. Her expression, the silent movement of her lips said she struggled to find logic and words. “I…J.C. found Brent’s whiskey flask on the beach. I recognized it. He was never without it. There was a scrap of fabric with it that matched Celeste’s scarf. He killed her, Nick. From where Celeste died, the current from the river coming into the harbor from the land side would have taken that flask from the channel out to the lake…and then it would have washed back to the beach where J.C. found it.”
Maggie’s voice shook now. “Brent killed Celeste. I know it, just as I know he somehow used Leo to do his dirty work at the winery, and then Brent must have—Brent must have killed Ed—Ed knew what he was. He killed them both! He’s the man from my past that Celeste warned me about!”
Nick had to comfort her; the panic rising in her with every heartbeat, her shoulders tense beneath his open hands. Oh, Maggie, trust me… “Maggie, we’ll work through this. There are plenty of tourists in town. Scout could be playing in a hotel pool with kids—you know how she loves that. We’ll find Scout and—”
“I should have watched her better. I’d had her on the leash for so long while we were traveling that I’d been letting her run more, and everyone has watched her so well. I should have—”
Nick shook her gently, trying to ground the panic flying through her. “That’s right. Blame yourself. That’s what you love to do—tear yourself apart. Everyone in town loves her. They watch her, and so do I. Someone will call and she’ll be fine. Meanwhile, we’ll call Lorenzo.”
Maggie’s eyes were rounded, as if another realization had just struck her. She reached to grip his
arm. “The man who came after Scout in the restaurant could have been Brent. I didn’t think it was him. I just couldn’t see him not keeping up his looks, or coming after us. He’s a powerful man, a rich man, who takes care of how he looks. But he was tall and had sandy hair. He’s vain and he’s compulsive-obsessive. That’s why Ed’s upstairs room was so neat—Brent has been staying there, watching everything. That’s why the bottles on Ed’s bar were turned so exactly—that wasn’t Ed’s work or his employees—that was Brent. He has to have everything in a line, in order, pictures straight on the wall—Nick, I know it is him. I’m not imagining this. He stole those pictures of my family as a threat, as a memento.”
Nick smoothed her shining reddish hair, warm with sun and a vivid contrast to her pale face, the freckles dancing upon her skin. How many times had she fought alone, struggling for a justice that never came? “I never said you were. The thing is to keep you safe—and Scout. We’ll find her, Maggie.”
She stared at him as if she didn’t know him. “Nick, you didn’t ask to see that scrap of Celeste’s scarf. You just believed me. Why?”
“Because I love you. It’s that simple. I don’t need proof to know that you are scared stiff, and while we’re at it, it’s a little bit irritating to know that you don’t trust me.”
When she shook her head, Maggie’s bright hair caught the wind, the ends almost fiery in the sunlight. “I’m sorry, Nick.”
This wasn’t the time to weigh Maggie with his frustration. Nick gathered that silky hair into his hand and shook her head gently. “Take it easy. We’ll find Scout and—”
“Nick? There’s one more thing. I took Scout from him. Brent was furious when she didn’t perform in front of his buddies. She was untrained and young and it wasn’t her fault—it was his. He hates failure and they laughed at him. I can’t let her go back to him. He’ll kill her eventually, just because I love her—and worst of all, from his viewpoint above the tavern, he would have seen her obey your hand commands—he could never get her to respond to him. Nick, while I stay here, you and your family are in danger. He can’t tolerate other men succeeding when he fails.”
“He’s not getting her. Take it easy, Maggie. You need to be calm to tell Lorenzo everything.” As Nick drove Maggie into Blanchefleur, he pushed aside the pain that she hadn’t trusted him and concentrated on her safety. He tucked the unread note she’d written into his shirt pocket. After she and Scout were safe, Maggie would make her own decision.
Worst of all, Maggie hadn’t trusted him to believe her.
“Nick said you were to stay here while he checked on Scout. Lorenzo agreed it was safest to keep you here.”
Dante settled into the restaurant’s upstairs apartment with Maggie to play cards and to bodyguard. “You’re not going anywhere. Downstairs is too busy and we’re going to sit this one out up here until Nick or Lorenzo calls. The police are going door to door now, asking questions about suspicious characters and giving out that man’s description.”
Maggie lifted the curtain aside to scan the street. In front of Journeys, the goddess chime was catching the dim light, flashing silver as she turned. Maggie wrapped her arms around herself, her body chilled at the ominous sign. If that was Celeste’s warning, it was effective. Brent was capable of anything, and Maggie had led him here to kill her friend—and maybe Nick.
From the window over the tavern, Brent would have seen everything. He would have seen her love for Nick and that would snap any sanity he had left, because Brent could not tolerate women outside his maneuvering—like herself. “It’s getting dark outside. Nick hasn’t checked in for the last hour.”
“He will.”
“I did not want to go to the police with this. I’ve been through all that before and no one believed me.”
“Lorenzo did, and he’s seen a lot. And Nick believes you. Did you think he wouldn’t?”
“I…I didn’t know what he would think. I just panicked. I still am.” Maggie shivered as she remembered Nick’s dark anger, the chilly, brisk stashing of her in Dante’s care. She’d hurt Nick terribly.
Dante sat at the table, laid out a solitaire game pattern, and began slapping down cards. “He believes you enough to have the whole family alerted. Pop is really enjoying this. Jerry is at the back door, playing guard with his cute little walkie-talkie, and Marco is frisking people at the front door—now that would be an experience. Lorna and Vinnie are downstairs, dressed in black leather, and I don’t want to know what they are packing beneath their jackets. Lorna is all revved to show off her hand-to-hand technique. If Vinnie gets any more worked up, just watching her, we’re going to have to put them in the backyard and turn a cold hose on them…. Don’t spoil the cavalry’s fun by making them worry about you being safe. Nick will find Scout and he’ll call. Meanwhile, we’re sitting tight.”
Maggie studied Dante, who was evidently enjoying his role. “You know, there’s a certain arrogance about you Alessandro males that makes me want to take you down. I should be out there, hunting my dog.”
Dante flashed a superior-male wolfish grin. “Try getting by me, half pint.”
“I could hurt you, Dante,” she warned darkly, but didn’t intend to carry through her threat.
His grin widened. “Now I’m real worried. Settle down, will you?”
Maggie turned to Dante. “You see things down at the boatyard and in town. Did you ever see that man again?”
Dante inhaled slowly as if he were preparing his answer. “I did. But I lost him. And now I know why. Ed must have gone to a lot of work to get that upstairs storage room clean enough.”
Maggie leaned her head against the cool glass and studied the goddess slowly turning within the wind chime. “What are you trying to tell me, Celeste?” she whispered.
“What did you say?” Dante asked.
“Not a thing.” But every sense in Maggie was alert and still and warning her that Nick was in danger. She couldn’t be kept safe, while he—Maggie didn’t want to think about what Brent might do to Nick, the man whom Scout obeyed, the man she loved.
Brent would destroy everything Nick loved—the vineyards, the winery, his home. The Journeys wind chime began turning quickly, almost frantically as the wind began to sweep down Blanchefleur’s main street, tossing leaves against the apartment window.
In that instant, Maggie knew she had to find Nick and Scout; she couldn’t wait. Every instinct she had said they needed her.
If Brent had Nick and saw anyone but her coming, he’d kill Nick without a second thought.
But he just might take Maggie as a substitute. If she found Brent, he might just leave Blanchefleur with her, and the Alessandros would be safe—
“Dante, I can’t relax. I’m taking a long soak in the tub. Let me know if Nick calls, okay?”
Minutes later, Maggie turned off the tub’s faucets, made some splashing and relaxing noises, and then opened the window. A similar escape diversion had worked with Nick’s cousin; she could only hope it would work with Dante. She heard him call down for a food delivery. He’d be eating alone.
With little effort, Maggie hefted herself upward and out of the window. The rain-scented wind lifted her hair, chilling her nape, as she stepped out onto the roof and edged her way around a corner. Her fingers gripped the damp bricks, jutting out a bit from the rest to make a design; her shoes found the edges and she inched her way to another angled roof.
The rusted iron fire escape was old and unused, but strong enough to hold her weight until she dropped to the ground. She scanned the street, cars parked on either side; she had to get to Nick’s house. A missing vehicle would draw attention, and if Brent were pushed too soon, Nick could be killed.
Lorenzo’s deputies cruised slowly by the restaurant, and Maggie slid deeper into the shadows. If she could just find Nick…
The health-conscious Martins, local residents, often walked to the restaurant, their children following on bicycles and skateboards, which were deposited in the alley while the fa
mily ate inside. Maggie quietly worked Oliver’s fast racer from the metal tangle and pulled back into the alley when a group of elderly women on their weekly night out passed by. Mrs. Friends turned to look at Maggie, and at Maggie’s silent shush signal, she nodded and continued chatting. “If Eugene wants to spend time with Dee Dee, he’s perfectly welcome.”
Taking care to stay away from the streetlights, Maggie eased out of town and sailed toward Nick’s winery. The wind pushed her clothing against her, fierce and angry, as the damp moonless night enclosed her.
Celeste had said to focus on her senses, and everything in Maggie told her that she had to find Nick and Scout. If Nick was hurt…
Maggie’s lungs hurt as she sucked air into them and dropped the bike, running up the old footpath that led to the winery.
Then through the soft rain she saw the light in the Frenchman’s old lighthouse, and she knew…
“Down, Scout. Down. Sit,” Nick ordered firmly as Scout’s claws dug at the kitchen’s slick linoleum, stretching the chain around her neck tightly.
Brent studied the dog critically as she snarled at him. “It’s truly amazing how those spikes dig into a dog’s throat when they don’t obey. She’d better get used to it. She’s got a lifetime—what’s left of it—waiting for her.”
“Easy, girl.” Behind him, Nick’s wrists were slick with blood; his fight against the plastic ties were futile. His arm hurt where the tranquilizer dart had hit, but in his fear for Maggie, the blows from Brent’s tantrum did not hurt.
Somehow Brent knew that Maggie would come to him. Meanwhile, he seemed content to batter Nick. “How did you get her to come to you?”
“Simple. She remembers the sound of my voice. I parked in the woods and talked to myself—planning how I was going to watch you die—and she came snarling after me, just as she did in the restaurant. The dart hit her perfectly. I got in the car and waited until the tranquilizer worked.”
“And now you want Maggie.” Nick recognized Maggie’s description of Brent, how he enjoyed hurting—his obsession to be powerful and rule others.