“Stewart residence.” As always, his manner was crisp and professional.
“Hey, Donald. How goes it?” It was Thad on the other end.
“The answering service thing was a real mess, but I got everything taken care of. Then when I came to the house, the alarm was off. No sign of anything being wrong. I think my mother forgot to reset it. How are things going there? Did you see Doctor Crenshaw like I suggested?”
“Donald, I was attacked weeks ago. If anything was wrong with me, it would have showed up way before now.”
“You might think that everything’s fine, but you were mugged, Thad, and you ought to get checked out.”
“Like I said, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“But the headaches…the trouble sleeping.”
On the other end, Thad nearly confessed to his friend and employee what was the real root of his physical problems. Instead, he said, “It’s just stress. I’m okay.”
“All right, if you say so.” Donald was skeptical but changed the subject. “So you’ll be back here Saturday, around noon?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“Don’t forget that Catina and I will be leaving on our little trip tonight.”
He and Thad engaged in a few more minutes of small talk before saying their goodbyes. Disconnecting, Donald bent to retrieve the scattered mail. Satisfied that he had gathered it all, he headed into the back of the house, never noticing the envelope covered with yellow flowers that lay half-hidden under a table.
Reappearing in the entranceway, Donald started up the front stairs. His cell phone rang. It was Catina, eager for them to start on their mini-vacation. Anxious to please her and to get an early start, he bounced back down the stairs. Making certain that the alarm was engaged this time, Donald exited.
When he heard the front door close, Moody knew that it was safe to abandon his hiding place. He sauntered down the stairway, recounting to himself the part of the telephone conversation that he had heard from upstairs. So somebody had mugged Thad Stewart. Too bad he had walked away from the incident. Otherwise, his problem with the actor would have been solved.
Reaching the foyer, Moody once again disengaged the alarm as if he lived there. These fancy new alarms were no better than the old ones he used to bypass when he was a kid doing break-ins. They were just more costly. His eyes swept the living room. The man had expensive taste.
Moody was about to turn and leave the house when a spot of yellow peeking from under a table caught his eye. Curious, he bent and retrieved the colorful envelope. It was addressed to Thad. The writing looked like that of a woman. Without ceremony, he tore it open. He wanted to see what the slimeball was up to, and as he read the letter, his expression changed from one of curiosity to one of anger.
The letter spoke of shared love and passion. The words were powerful in their emotion. Finishing the letter, he crumpled it in his balled fist as the last words in the letter pierced his soul. It ended with a declaration—I love you with all my heart and was signed Darnell.
* * *
It wasn’t a certainty that Bev would be home when Darnell called. It was later in Chicago than in California. Mother and daughter had exchanged houses. Darnell had flown from the Santa Barbara ranch to her mother’s home in Chicago to avoid the press, while Bev was staying overnight in the Carmel house while attending to some business in the area. On the fifth ring, Bev’s familiar voice answered the telephone.
“Hello, Mama. What are you up to?” Darnell tried to sound light, cheerful.
Bev wasn’t fooled. “So you saw the picture of Mr. Hormones on the cover of the magazine?”
“Oh, Mama, please.” What was the woman, a mind reader? “Let’s not get into that. I called to see how you’re doing.”
“The same as I was doing yesterday when you called, so let’s cut the crap, Darnell. I know the magazine has come to the house by now and you’ve seen Thad Stewart kissing that bimbo on the cover. You called to see what I would say about it, and you know what I have to say about him. So do you know who she is?”
Irritated, Darnell sighed. Her mother had never been one to be subtle. “I’ve met her before, but I’m sure there’s an explanation. People in L.A. are always hugging and kissing each other. You never know when a photographer is around.”
“Sure.” Bev’s tone was skeptical. “So what do you plan on doing about all of this?”
“All of what?” Darnell’s voice was small, childlike, unlike the confident woman that she was. But at the moment she didn’t feel confident. She felt like a helpless child. The feeling was unfamiliar.
Bev’s heart constricted. Her daughter was hurting. “What are you going to do about Thad and about Lance?”
Darnell was silent as she thought about the questions. There was nothing to be done about Lance. The two of them had talked—really talked—admitting more truth than they had in years. Gradually, their discussion had turned to her relationship with Thad. Lance was accepting, and even encouraging, as both realized that so much time and so much of their lives had been wasted on foolish pretense. Although Darnell still had reservations about the direction that Lance had decided to take in his life with Ruth, she wished him well, as he did her. Lance and Ruth were now together at the ranch hideaway, ready to begin a new life together.
As for her relationship with Thad, what could she say to her mother? She was a woman in love. All she could do was trust him and believe in his love and loyalty to her. Having made that decision, she felt sure that there was an explanation for the picture on the magazine cover. If only he would contact her. Another three weeks had passed since their last encounter, three weeks without a word from him, despite her efforts to contact him. Faith in him was all she had at this point, faith and love—the most powerful foundations for any relationship. She could not waver in either. So, she reassured her mother that the picture had an explanation and willed herself to believe that her faith in Thad would be justified.
* * *
Bev was not convinced that Thad Stewart was as noble as Darnell claimed him to be. What her daughter had done in sticking by Lance during his illness was noble—not that he appreciated it. When Darnell called and informed her that he had found someone else, she could hardly believe it. She had been certain that Darnell’s heart would always be safe with Lance and that their “friendship” would blossom. She had hoped that her daughter’s attraction to Thad was just a fling. She was sure that Darnell would come to her senses eventually. Well, so much for that.
Men! She was sick and tired of them all. There had been only one man in her life that had ever mattered: her late husband, Colton. She had loved him with a passion. No man had ever been able to measure up to him. The men that she met these days were sorely lacking, and that included Thad’s attorney, Ray Wilson. It turned out that he knew her younger sister, Dana, who was also an attorney. He had gotten her home telephone number from her and had called Bev in Chicago after their meeting in Carmel. He’d had the nerve to ask her out on a date. Of course she had refused. Insanity must run in Thad Stewart’s entourage.
As Bev was about to leave the room, the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver. “Cameron residence.”
“Hello, Mrs. Sharon?” The voice on the line was male, deep and sexy. She recognized it immediately.
“No, Thad, this is not Mrs. Sharon. This is Bev Cameron.” Her tone was arctic. “May I help you?”
Thad groaned. Just great! Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. He had to speak to Darnell. He was going out of his mind. He had left messages for her everywhere he could think of, and she hadn’t contacted him. The rumors of her engagement to Lance were rampant. The picture of him and Regine on the magazine cover was disastrous, and who should be the first one he spoke to when he called but Darnell’s mother! He took a deep breath.
“Hello, Mrs. Cameron…”
“Ms. Cameron.”
Thad sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Ms. Cameron. I’m sorry, please acc
ept my apology. I called because I’m anxious to speak to Darnell. Is there any way I can get a message to her? I’ve tried everything I know. I’m desperate.”
Bev rolled her eyes. I bet you are, she thought. She said, “I’m sorry, too, Mr. Stewart, but Darnell is not available. You may have heard, or better yet, read why. She’s going into rehearsals to sing before the President of the United States. She can’t be disturbed.” That would fix him for hurting her daughter.
Thad clenched his teeth. He knew that he was being chastised for the picture on the magazine cover. It was doubtful that she would deliver any messages from him to Darnell. He tried anyway.
“I know that the picture on that magazine looks bad, Ms. Cameron, but…”
“Is there anything else, Mr. Stewart?”
“Yes, there is. I’d appreciate it if you could just ask her to contact me. It’s very important.”
“I’m sure it is.”
If that was the best Thad could get from her, he would take it. He gave her his Los Angeles telephone number and his new cell phone number, full of doubts that Darnell would receive either. He would not beg Bev to follow through on his request. He did have some pride. Yet, the thought of never seeing Darnell again impaled his heart. His resolve weakened. Something stronger than pride was compelling his actions.
“When you see Darnell again, please tell her that I love her with everything in me.”
On the other end, Thad’s words were met with silence and then the dial tone. Reluctantly, he hung up. There was nothing more left to say.
CHAPTER 25
It was torture being in L.A., trying to function as a whole, thinking human being when he was neither. He walked and talked like a robot, a machine without a heart. He didn’t have one. Darnell owned it.
As he sat in the limousine with Ray, headed toward the premiere of his latest picture, he was drained of all emotions except misery. He looked out of the window at the passing scenery, but everything was a blur. He didn’t feel up to this event tonight, but it was a part of the obligations in this business he loved. His heart jerked. Love.
Thad closed his eyes.
He wondered what Darnell was doing right this moment. Was she with Lance? If so, he had no one to blame but himself if she had taken him up on his ultimatum. He was sure the picture with Regine hadn’t helped matters.
Usually, he was on top of it when it came to the press. He had become an expert in charming them into dancing to his tune, but he hadn’t seen that photographer. Nobody could control everything, especially spoiled, stubborn women like Regine. After that kiss, he had dragged her from the dance floor and given her a piece of his mind. He had made it clear that he didn’t appreciate what she had done, either there or at his house. She had cried, trying to win his sympathy, but the tears had dried quickly when he didn’t respond the way that she thought he would. She had accused him of tossing her affections aside for Darnell’s. She dared him to deny it. He didn’t, and told her in no uncertain terms that who he cared about or didn’t was not her concern. He didn’t need her approval. After having his say, he had stormed off and hadn’t looked back. She was one woman that he never wanted to see or hear from again.
Thad sighed and opened his eyes. He could feel the tightness in his jaws, the tension building in his shoulders. What did it matter anyway? Darnell didn’t want him anymore. She had chosen practicality over passion, but the least she could do was call and let him know that it was over. Thad slumped in his seat. The facts were clear. She had chosen Lance and not him. He might not ever see her again. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Hell! He would survive, and he would make sure that no other woman would ever hurt him like this again.
“We’re here, man,” Ray informed him.
Thad looked out of the limo window as it pulled up to their destination. The glare of bright lights and the roar of the crowd jolted him back to reality. He used to love these premieres—the crowd’s energy and excitement, the anticipation of seeing the end product of so much hard work—but this evening was different. All he wanted to do right now was to go home.
The limo door opened, and the screams assailed Thad’s ears as he stepped out into the night. The smile on his face was dazzling. It was showtime, and no one would ever notice the pain beneath the smile. He was a superstar, and his world was perfect.
* * *
“Moody, I’m telling you, man, this is serious.” The urgency in Russ Ingram’s voice verified his concern. “Wochev is trying to convince the rest of the cartels that the slip-up came from us.”
“I don’t see how. The thief wasn’t in our camp.” Moody restlessly walked the length of the oriental carpet that covered the floor of the downstairs office in the house he was renting. It was the first time that he had used the office. Russ had come to see him to discuss the latest development in the case of the missing shipment, a matter that Moody thought had been settled. It wasn’t. His associate’s presence on the peninsula signaled the importance of the information he was conveying.
“The way I figure it is that he knows that the cartels no longer respect his power, so he’s desperate to save face and find a scapegoat. We’re it. After all, the others were skeptical of this deal with the Colombians. They don’t trust them, so when the shipment came up short, nobody was surprised. Wochev needs a distraction. He’s walking on thin ice, so he’s pulling our organization out on the ice to skate with him.”
Settling in the leather wingback chair behind the desk, Moody processed Russ’s evaluation of the situation carefully as he observed his protégé. In his mid-thirties, he was an ambitious young man. Unlike him, Russ hadn’t come from a life of grinding poverty, but from a highly educated African-American family that had attained the American Dream. His father was a corporate executive, and his mother was a college professor. He had graduated with honors from Rutgers University with a degree in business management. His career could have taken any direction he wanted. The world was his. Instead, he had chosen a life of crime, a life of danger and intrigue where an early death was a real possibility. For what? Quick money? Excitement? Whatever the reason, Moody wondered if it was worth it. Whether it was or not, the younger man had earned a place of trust and respect in Moody’s life.
He sighed. “What you’re saying makes sense, Russ, but you see, we’ve got a paid operative in the Wochev camp.” He smiled at his associate’s surprised reaction at this bit of news. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know who I should trust and who I shouldn’t.”
“I see.” Russ smiled.
“If the snitch falls down on the job, his life is on the line. If the tide turns too swiftly and we’re in jeopardy, I should be the first to know, or he’ll be a dead man.”
The younger man continued to look at him thoughtfully. The lines of worry were still etched on his face. Much like him, Russ was a serious man who showed little emotion, and it was often difficult to know what he was thinking. Moody decided to change the subject.
“I’m glad that you’re here, my man. Why don’t you stay the night?”
“I’ve booked a hotel in Monterey for the night. I’m taking a flight into San Francisco tomorrow to see the town. It’s been years since I’ve been to the Bay Area.”
“No, cancel your hotel room. I insist that you stay here. Then you can keep me company when I drive to the city tomorrow,” Moody informed him. “I have some business to take care of.”
He certainly did. The muscled man had said that Thad Stewart was expected back in Tiburon on Saturday, around noon. By Saturday, around midnight, he would be dead.
* * *
Thad continued to operate by rote at the party after the premiere. He graciously accepted the many compliments bestowed on him for his latest cinematic effort. He got through the press interviews and posed for many pictures. As the evening wound down, he was finally able to take a seat at the VIP table and relax for a moment—which proved to be a second too long. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the sharp pain that inched ac
ross his heart as thoughts of Darnell resurfaced.
“Hey, man! What’s happening? Are you okay?”
Thad opened his eyes to look into the face of Duncan Whittaker, another of Hollywood’s young African-American superstars. Thad and Duncan had come into the motion picture business together. While Thad had done so through comedy, Duncan had broken into the business as a theatrically trained actor. The press had tried countless times to pit them against each other, but they refused to be used as pawns. They were not personal friends, but they did have mutual respect for each other and each other’s work.
Thad stretched and gave Duncan a weary smile. “I’m a little tired, man. It’s been quite a night.”
Duncan looked around at the crowd of revelers. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” His gaze returned to Thad. “Listen, I like the work you did on that screen. Nice. Real nice.”
Thad nodded. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that, coming from you.” Duncan was one hell of an actor, and the compliment meant a lot.
Settling in a chair beside him, Duncan decided to strike up a conversation. Thad wished that he wouldn’t, but engaged in small talk with him anyway, responding to his chatter with a nod, a smile or an occasional comment. He tried to look interested, but the conversation didn’t pique his curiosity until Duncan brought up the subject of a “songbird”—as he called her—as being his next romantic conquest. It seemed that he had been longing to get close to this particular woman for a long time, and it was only recently that she was free to be pursued.
“Free?” Thad looked at him with empathy. “Man, you better think twice about sniffing after some divorcee too soon. Not too many women are going to give up the alimony for love, especially in this town.”
“Naw, man. It’s not like that. This lady has never been married. She’s just been hooked up with her man for a long time. There was even a rumor that she was engaged to him, but she’s free now.”
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