He glanced over in surprise. “You’ve never been here before?”
Jude shook his head. “It was a no man’s land to me. I demonized it. Never wanted to see it.” He studied the old concrete building with its graffiti painted sides and boarded-up windows. “But it’s…just an old gas station. They died at a gas station.” His voice hitched. “All because I wanted to see Jurassic Park and snuck out of the house.”
“Hey.” Greer grabbed his shoulder, waited until he turned back. “They would have died whether or not you snuck out. If not that night, then another. If Bruce planned it, he would have found another opportunity.”
“None of us blame you, Jude,” Reece said. “So stop blaming yourself.”
Nobody spoke again until Eva returned.
“You’re free to go, Greer,” she said. “They’ll want to talk to you again, but for now, you can go home.”
He stood but didn’t move.
Home. He didn’t really have a home anymore, did he? His apartment was empty. His parents’ house in ashes. He searched the gathered crowd again, but there was no sign of Natalie. He didn’t blame her. She’d just held her brother while he died. She probably wanted nothing more to do with him at this point.
Feeling more alone than ever, he followed his brothers and their wives. Such was his lot in life.
“Greer!” Andy’s voice carried across the parking lot, and he turned to see the kid running after him.
Still no Natalie.
“What do you want?” He knew he was sneering, but his mood was too dark to attempt anything approaching civility.
Andy didn’t shrink away. He stood his ground, shoulders back, chin lifted. His father’s blood still stained his shirt. “I need to apologize. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
Andy swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. “That man tracked me down after school one day and said he’d hurt my dad if I didn’t, so I asked some friends to help. Well, not really friends. Gang members. I did some…IT work for them once.”
IT work? Yeah, right. From what Natalie had said about him, the kid probably hacked something for the gang. “What happened to the one I stabbed?”
“You didn’t kill him,” Andy said quickly. “You just got him through the leg.”
Why that came as such a relief, Greer couldn’t say.
No, actually, he could. He didn’t want any more death in his life. No more nightmares to add to the ones that already kept him up at night.
Andy’s shoulders sagged, and he suddenly looked every bit the child he still was. “I should’ve gone to the police or something. I watch enough cop shows to know Bruce wanted me to leave my DNA behind.”
That was likely exactly what Bruce had planned. He enjoyed using puppets to carry out his misdeeds, and Andy had been the perfect one. He’d wanted to have the boy finish the job his other puppets started in Syria, which would have left DNA evidence behind that in no way implicated his assassin squad.
“I did everything wrong,” Andy said.
“Yeah, you did.” He wanted to hang on to his anger, nurse it, savor it. But it took guts to tell someone you were wrong, and it took balls to own up to your misdeeds. Besides, the kid looked so earnest. “Apology accepted.” He realized he was grumbling and tempered his tone. “And I’m sorry for your loss today.”
Andy’s lip trembled, but he didn’t break down. “He wasn’t a good dad…but he was mine.”
“Kid…” Greer cleared his throat, searched for something to say. He saw his brothers standing several yards away, watching the exchange, and nodded toward them. “One of my brothers is a genius with computers. Maybe you can come by the office after school a few times a week, learn a thing or two from him.”
Andy’s eyes widened. “You’d let me?”
“Will it keep you out of trouble?”
He nodded hard, doing a fair impression of a bobblehead. “Reece Wilde is legendary. I’ll literally do anything to learn from him. Can I start tomorrow?”
A legend? Greer looked over at Reece again—tall, skinny Reece with his glasses and penchant for ironing his pants—and snorted. “Yeah, sure, kid.”
He walked over to his brothers, and Reece glowered at him. “Tell me you didn’t just volunteer me for babysitting duty?”
“Hey.” Greer clapped him on the back. “He thinks you’re legendary.”
Jude guffawed. “Reece? A legendary what? Stick in the mud?”
Libby smacked her husband’s arm. “Stop it. Every kid needs a hero.”
“Besides, I think it’s sweet,” Shelby added and laced her fingers through Reece’s. “It’ll be good practice for when we start having kids.”
Reece grumbled under his breath as the others continued to tease him. Greer glanced away from the four happy couples, scanning the crowd again. No Natalie, but Andy still stood where he’d left the kid, phone out, thumbs tapping a text with all the speed of a concert pianist.
Greer returned to his side. “Hey, kid. Have you seen Natalie?”
“Uh-huh.” He finished with his phone and looked up. “She just texted. Said she had something important to do at her dance studio, and asked if I was okay. She left in a hurry as soon as the cops let her.” His brow wrinkled. “Do you think I could have a ride home?”
He was not alone.
Shit.
He pointed Andy at his brothers. “One of them will take you.” Without waiting for a response, he sprinted toward his bike, scooping up his helmet from the pavement where he’d dropped it earlier.
He was not alone.
…
There were no classes scheduled today, and the studio was dark. Natalie used her key to let herself in and hurried up the stairs, her heart thundering too loudly in the quiet space.
She just needed to see one thing—
“Oh my God.” She halted in shock at the top of the stairs. All the photos had been ripped off the walls and thrown about like a tornado had howled though the space. Frames broken, glass shattered, pictures torn.
She picked her way carefully through the debris. The stand of dance magazines she’d been aiming for was upended, the volumes spilled and trampled. She knelt down, sifted through what was left, looking for…
There.
She pulled the magazine from the rubble and gently dusted off bits of glass. On the cover was Meredith LaGrange-Wilde mid-leap. She righted one of the chairs and sat down, spreading the magazine out on her lap. She’d read the article a few weeks ago and had even considered giving it to Greer so he’d at least have a piece of his mother. The pages were full of glossy photos of Meredith—little instances of her life, frozen forever. On one page, she danced on a stage in New York, all glamour and grace. On the next, she held a tiny baby in a carrier on her chest while she tried to corral her other four sons into a dance lesson.
Natalie bit her lip and ran her fingers over the photo. When she’d last looked at this picture, she hadn’t known the brothers, but now she could tell who was who—well, except for the twins. As toddlers, they had looked so much alike—unruly dark hair, blue eyes, and mischievous grins—it was a wonder their parents had been able to tell them apart. Greer couldn’t have been older than five, but he dutifully mimicked his mother at the barre while Reece sat on the floor with crayons and a pad of paper and the twins chased each other around the studio. This very same studio.
She flipped the page…
And there it was—a small insert among the bigger article. It showed two young girls, both barely teens, their thin arms slung around each other’s shoulders.
Despite their friendship, the women admit they have been rivals at times.
“There’s competition,” Larissa Schaffer says. “Of course there is. Ballet is a small world and we both audition for the same roles.”
“But it’s friendly. All in good fun. No matter what happens, we’re like sisters and we’ll always support each other. We’re more alike than not,” Meredith adds with a l
augh.
“That’s true. We both have a thing for military men. Except…” Larissa elbows her friend. “Mine’s hotter.”
Oh, God. Larissa.
The moment Bruce showed up, the pieces started falling together for her. She’d recognized him when she caught a glimpse of him at the military base as Greer had dragged her out, but she didn’t place his face until he appeared at the gas station. Larissa kept a picture of him in her office drawer. Younger, but definitely him. He had a slightly crooked nose that was unmistakable. When she’d asked about his picture, Larissa called him “the one that got away.”
“What happened?” Natalie had asked.
Larissa had smiled sadly and tucked his picture back into the drawer. “I made a horrible mistake and he couldn’t forgive me enough to marry me. He still looks out for me, though. Even to this day. I like to think part of him still loves me, despite everything.”
A horrible mistake.
Oh, God.
Meredith Wilde hadn’t been collateral damage. She was shot first, and four times. That was an act of simmering rage. She’d been the target, and her husband had been the collateral damage.
A crash sounded from the office and Natalie jumped. Her heart practically performed a grand jeté out of her chest.
He was not alone.
It was almost as if Mathew was here, whispering those words in her ear. She swallowed to moisten her parched throat and slowly closed the magazine.
She needed to leave. Right now. Take the magazine to Greer and his brothers and let them figure out what to do.
Careful not to make any noise, she stood and backed toward the door. Slowly, slowly. Just as she was about to turn and bolt, her shoe crunched down on a piece of glass. There was another crash in the office, and then fast footsteps across the floor of the studio. Larissa appeared in the waiting area, dressed in a leotard and tights, the laces of her pointe shoes untied and dragging behind her. Strands of hair fell out of a topknot, and she was wobbling on her feet as if she’d been drinking. She held a gun loosely at her side.
“Bruce?” Her voice was hoarse. “Is it done?”
The room closed in around Natalie, and her legs turned to gelatin underneath her. Running was out of the question. She didn’t dare attempt it when there was a gun in the mix. Even drunk, Larissa could get off a lucky shot.
Natalie hid the magazine behind her back. She cleared her constricted throat, but it still took a solid second before she was able to push words out. “Uh…it’s me, Larissa.” Feigning confusion, she took a small step forward, even though all she wanted to do was flee in the opposite direction. “What happened?”
“Oh.” Larissa looked at the mess and waved the gun dismissively. “Just…an accident. What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.” It was hard not to look at the gun, but Larissa seemed unaware she was holding it, and Natalie wasn’t about to draw her attention to that fact. “Nothing important. It can wait.”
“Then go home.”
“Okay.” She took a step backward, and then spun for the door. She was almost to it when Larissa spoke again.
“Oh.” Disappointment dripped from that one word. “Oh, Natalie. You had to go and get involved. How many times has your mother told you not to meddle?”
Shit. She’d seen the magazine with Meredith on the cover.
Natalie felt more than saw Larissa level the gun on her. Second time today someone had held her at gunpoint. That was a new record, and one she hoped she’d never break. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned back and faced the threat. “You killed Meredith and David Wilde.”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I killed Meredith.”
“Why? She was your friend.”
Larissa laughed. “Meredith was no friend. She pretended, but she was only ever interested in herself. When I got pregnant, she took all my roles. Nobody wanted me after that. My body wasn’t perfect like hers anymore. But, oh, they all wanted her, even when she kept popping out kids left and right. All I could do was teach, and you know what she told me? She said maybe teaching would be good for me. I was a natural at it. It was my calling. She tried wrapping it up in encouragement, but I knew what she meant. That old saying, ‘those who can’t do, teach.’” She scoffed. “She was wrong. My calling was the stage. I busted my ass for years to be on stage, but it all came so sickeningly easy to her. She was a perfect dancer with a perfect life and a perfect husband and perfect kids.”
Larissa grabbed one of the photographs of Meredith still hanging crooked on the wall and sneered at it. “I wanted so badly for Meredith to fail at something, but she had everything going for her when I could barely afford to feed my son. Those last few years, I couldn’t even stand to be around her.”
There was so much bitterness and hatred in this woman Natalie wondered how she’d never seen it before. Never even caught a glimpse in all the years she’d trained with Larissa.
“Then, out of the blue, she told me she needed to sell our studio. She couldn’t do it all anymore, and something had to give. And of course, she had controlling interest.” She danced her fingers over the photo. “Oh, she offered to sell her share of the business to me, but how was I supposed to afford that? I was a single mother. And she didn’t care.” She flung the photo to the floor, the frame cracking, glass shattering. “The selfish bitch didn’t care!”
Natalie edged away. Reasoning with this woman wasn’t going to work. Neither would playing the sympathetic shoulder. If her eight years of psych classes had taught her nothing else, it was how to spot a person on the brink of insanity, and Larissa was there. Her only option was escape, but she’d have to keep Larissa distracted and talking as she eased away. “You killed her…for the dance academy.”
“It was all I had and she wanted to take it from me! We had it set up so it would come to me if something happened to her. So I made ‘something’ happen.” Larissa sucked in a shuddering breath, and smiled. It was ugly and twisted, more sneer than smile. “I saw my chance when she called and said her youngest son was missing. Of course, I put on a sympathy act, but I was ecstatic. Finally, something was going wrong for her.”
She stepped on the photo, grinding the point of her slipper into Meredith’s smiling face. “Bruce and I drove to the gas station to help them search. When we got there, she was standing by the pump, and she looked so calm. Her son was missing, and she was fucking calm. She wasn’t wrecked. No, she was smug, so sure she’d find him if they just kept looking.” With a huff of disbelief, she swung her arm out, indicating all the ruined photos and magazines with the gun. “I had hoped she’d be hurting, and—and I was so angry. Angry she was taking the studio, angry she wasn’t hurting, angry that, yet again, everything would work out for Little Miss Perfect.”
Her smile turned bitter. “Bruce kept a gun in the glove box. Nobody else was around. It was so easy to make it all go away.”
Every muscle in Natalie’s body trembled, but she had to hold it together. Had to figure a way out of this mess. Had to—
Behind her, the stairs creaked. She chanced a quick glance backward and saw Greer at the bottom. He pressed a finger to his lips and made a rolling motion with one hand.
Keep her talking. Keep her distracted. Okay. She could do that.
Larissa took a step forward. “What are you—?”
“You killed Meredith,” she prompted quickly, forcing herself to look away from Greer. But behind her back, she made her finger into a gun, warning him of its presence. “But what about David? You would have gotten the studio even if he’d lived.”
Larissa shook her head. “Bruce needed David gone, and we couldn’t leave him to point a finger at us. He walked into the store and killed him to cover for me.” Again that ugly smile appeared. “He’s always covered for me. He loves me, and I’ve kept him on a tight leash. My own personal attack dog. He’s out there right now fixing this. He’s going to kill the only witness who can point to me.”
“My brother,” Natalie whisper
ed.
“Yes,” she said like she was talking to a stupid child. She pointed at Natalie with the muzzle of the gun. “I recruited you to the academy so I could keep an eye on your family. You weren’t a dancer. You didn’t have the body or the talent for it, but I needed to make sure your brother never talked, so I convinced your mom you could be the next Meredith LaGrange. And who better to train you than Meredith’s grieving best friend?”
The words were like needles piercing through to her soul. She’d always been told she didn’t have the body for dance—she was too tall, not leggy enough. Larissa had always told her they were wrong, encouraged her to prove them all wrong. And she had. She’d made a name for herself, but to hear those same horrible words now from Larissa dropped a bomb right where all of her personal demons lived.
She fought back tears. It didn’t matter. Her dance career was over anyway and had been for a long time. Larissa was just being cruel, trying to get under her skin, but she wasn’t going to allow it. Greer was only a few steps below her and knowing he was there gave her strength.
Besides, now she knew right where to strike to hurt Larissa the most. “Bruce is dead.”
The gun wobbled. “Liar.”
“Turn on the news. He killed himself. He saw your house of cards tumbling and left you to deal with the fallout alone.”
Without warning, Larissa charged. “You lying little bitch!”
There was no possible way to dodge the angry woman, so she braced for impact. Larissa hit her hard, but it was the wall they both collided with that really hurt. The floor disappeared from under her feet. She fleetingly caught Greer’s expression of horror, saw him reach for her as they both tumbled down the stairs past him.
And then she wasn’t aware of anything but the fall. She flashed back to the day she first injured her knee. She’d known mid-jump that something had gone wrong. She’d lost control and wasn’t going to land right. She’d seen her entire career flash before her eyes and had already given up on it in the seconds before she hit the floor.
This time, though, it was her life. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to give up on that.
Too Wilde to Tame (Wilde Security) Page 19