Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy)

by Alexander, Magda

  “I have my ways, Ms. Watson. So what say you? Do we have a deal?”

  That night in London I refused to accept Gabriel’s offer of an apartment in his co-op, money, jewelry, anything I wanted. And now, except for the jewelry, haven’t I accepted just that? I might not like what I’ve become, what Gabriel has made of me. But I’ll be damned if I give this evil witch any satisfaction. “Gabriel wants our child. It’d break his heart were I to disappear. And I won’t do that a second time. So no. I won’t agree to this.”

  “Very well. You’ve brought this upon your head.”

  “What are you going to do?” Terrified, I grip the phone with hands grown cold.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m not engaged to him; I have no plans to marry him. Our son will not inherit the title.” I launch one last plea, hoping against hope my argument persuades her.

  “Ms Watson, one thing about being my age, I know a truth when I see one. I know Ainsley. More than anything, he wants your child as his heir. You may not want to marry, but he does, and he’ll find a way for you to agree. He always does. And I can’t have a grandchild born of a whore. If you don’t accept my proposal, you and your child are doomed. So, one last time, will you take my offer?”

  “Go to hell, Lady Winterleagh.”

  “Goodbye, Ms. Watson. The blood of your unborn child will be on your head.”

  The sickness surges within me, no longer willing to be held back. I dash for the ladies’ room and barely make it in time. Thankfully, no one enters while I spew my stomach contents into the porcelain bowl. Minutes, hours later, when there’s nothing left in my stomach, I stumble out, weak and shaking.

  Oh god, what am I going to do?

  Chapter 19

  ______________

  Gabriel

  “SHE DRUGGED ME.” Sarah Simmons, the agent guarding my mother.

  My blood runs cold. “What are you talking about?” I step away from a business meeting into an empty office to take the call.

  “Your mother. We were in the potting shed when she asked for tea. We shared the brew. But when I left to fetch her some honey, she must have put something in my cup. Whatever it was, it knocked me unconscious. When I came to, she was calmly pruning some plant like nothing had happened. But two hours had passed.”

  I punch the nearest wall and don’t feel the pain. Rage, fear threaten to overwhelm me, but I choke them down. Emotions won’t help me get to the bottom of this. “What did she use? You sedated her to get her to the cottage. Were those drugs lying around?”

  “No. That narcotic was administered on the boat. And the only medicine in the cottage is a headache remedy, nothing which would render me senseless.”

  No help there. “She must have done it for a purpose.” There was always a reason to my mother’s madness.

  “She did. She”—Sarah’s voice wavers—“she called Ms.Watson on my mobile. The call lasted fifteen minutes or so.”

  Fear spears through me. I drop into an office chair before my legs give way. “Bloody hell.”

  “Yes, Mr. Storm. Exactly. She made another call to an unknown number.”

  Another call? To whom? For what purpose? The possibilities are too horrible to entertain.

  “I apologize, Sir. I should have been more vigilant.”

  “No, Ms. Simmons. Don’t apologize. If anyone’s at fault, it’s me. I should have asked Jake to send another operative.” Even though I’m howling inside, somehow I will my voice to remain calm. Panic won’t solve this puzzle. But cold, logical reason should, after I discover the facts. And there’s only one way to do that. “I’ll fly to Scotland tonight and bring an additional guard with me. In the meantime, don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “Yes, Mr. Storm.”

  My hand shakes as I hit Jake’s number. Who the blazes did my mother call? She hadn’t stopped at Liz. And why the devil hasn’t Liz phoned to tell me about it?

  I explain the events to Jake and what I need from him. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask questions, but tells me he’ll take care of things. He probably heard the desperation in my voice and knew I was hanging on by a thin thread.

  After I hang up with him, I call Liz. Since I must be ignorant about my mother’s call to her, I aim to lead with the surprise I’d planned—my day early return to D.C. Plans which must be scuttled due to my mother’s actions.

  “Liz.” I infuse as much excitement into my voice as possible.

  “Gabriel.” Her voice sounds weak, shaky.

  My protective instincts kick in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your mother called.”

  As she reveals the conversation, my pulse speeds up, sweat pops on my brow.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Finding it hard to breathe, I loosen my tie.

  “I was going to, as soon as I stopped shaking.”

  I pound the desk in frustration. God. Doesn’t she realize somebody could be on the way to kill her? “Lock your office door. Right now. Do it.”

  “Gabriel. You’re scaring me, and right now I don’t think I can take any more.” Her voice sounds threadier, high strung.

  I’m sorry I’m having this effect on her, but she must be made to understand. “Stop talking and lock. Your. Door.”

  “Fine.”

  I hear her shuffling in the background and a soft click.

  “There. It’s locked. Happy now?” She clips out the words at me. Angry is better than scared.

  “I’ll call Samuel, have him come up for you. Don’t step outside your office until you hear his voice on the other side.” I’m clutching the mobile so tightly it might break.

  “I can’t leave. I have a project to finish.”

  So help me, God. Stubborn, stubborn woman. “I don’t fucking care what you have going on at work. If you force me, I’ll call Carrey and tell him about us.”

  “He all ready knows.”

  Well, there goes that advantage. I’ll need to use something else to persuade her. “Please, Liz. I need you to go home. I need to know you’re safe. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for the child you carry. Our son.”

  “Fine. Okay. I’ll go home.”

  I don’t know if it’s the ‘safe’ that gets her to agree, but right now I don’t care. All I care about is she’ll be looked after as soon as Samuel gets there. “Promise me you’ll rest. And don’t plan on going to work tomorrow either. I’m flying in tonight. That’s what I was calling about.”

  “Really?” She’s happy about this, going by the lilt in her voice.

  “Yes. I arranged an extra day with you.” I’d gone through three days of hell without her by my side. And now with this new threat, I’ll need to make new plans. At the very least switch my work schedule and spend less time in London and more time in D.C. Whatever needs to be done for Storm Industries, I can do it long distance. Nothing’s more important to me than the welfare of my child and Liz.

  “Oh.” A sound of distress.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My stomach’s clenching again. You don’t think it’s the baby, do you?” Fear. In her voice.

  Bloody hell. “Call your doctor. Now.”

  “I don’t want to lose him, Gabriel.” She was scared before, but now she sounds downright terrified.

  Damn it. I need to be there, to hold her, to talk her through it, to make sure she and our child are fine. “You won’t. I won’t allow it,” I say in my most authoritative voice.

  A mirthless laugh escapes her. “You can’t control this, Gabriel.”

  “Yes. I can. Call the doctor. I’ll call Samuel. Tell him to fetch you straightaway and take you to your physician. We can deal with the rest when I get there. You’ll do that. Won’t you?”

  “Yes, Gabriel. I will.”

  I call Samuel, explain the situation. Tell him what I need him to do. I end up with a plea. “Please make sure no harm comes to her or our child, Samuel. You know what they mean to me.”

  “Yes, Sir. Don’t you worry, Mr. St
orm. I’ll make sure she and your child are safe. You have my word.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hang up, clutch the phone to my head. God, please, if you’re listening, don’t let her lose the baby, don’t let me lose her. I’m begging you. Please.

  No answer comes forth, but then I don’t expect one. Only time will tell. I’ve placed my trust in God and Samuel. And out of the two, I trust Samuel more.

  Chapter 20

  ______________

  Gabriel

  THREE HOURS LATER, Jake and I, plus the new bodyguard, land on the patch of dirt next to the hunting box where I secreted the Countess. After arriving in Glasgow on the company jet, we chartered a helicopter to fly us here. I’ve come in search of answers. Not that I expect my mother to volunteer any. But I have eyes and a sound mind, so I hope to discover something useful.

  After unlocking the front door, I leave my companions in the front room and limp toward the back of the cottage where my mother is to be found according to the text from her guard. I walk into the drafty, bright lit room to find her working at a makeshift potting shed, sporting gardening gloves. A gardening book lies open next to her. One of my mother’s few redeeming graces is a gift for nurturing flowers and plants. Ironic, I know.

  “Hello, Countess.”

  Almost in slow motion, she turns toward me. She’s dressed in casual clothes, but her hair’s carefully pinned into her usual chignon and she’s wearing her signature pearls. “Ainsley, nice of you to drop by. Sorry, I can’t offer you better service, but the help’s not what it used to be.”

  “I’m not here for tea and crumpets.”

  “No, I don’t imagine you are. How’s your whore, dear?”

  I will down my anger, temper my reaction to her venomous words. She can capitalize on the slightest emotion, as I have good reason to know. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come, come, Ainsley. Did you think I wouldn’t figure things out? Why else would you consign me to this benighted place, except that you found out about the little deal I struck with your chère amie? What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

  When I don’t take the bait, she purses her lips. “I called Ms. Watson. But I expect you all ready know. Funny thing, though, she asked me where I was. I guess you failed to share my whereabouts with her. Keeping secrets with the woman you hope to marry, Ainsley? What will she say when she finds out?”

  “She will never find out.”

  “So like your father. He hoped I’d never discover his most important secret, and yet I did.” She smiles so beautifully one could easily forget how evil she is.

  Another secret? One she’s keeping to use when the time’s right. I know better. Still, I have to ask. “What are you talking about?”

  She cocks her head to the side as if she’s considering her answer, before coming upright again. “No, I don’t think I’ll share it with you. Not just yet anyway.”

  “You called a second number.”

  “Why, yes, I did.”

  “Who?”

  She smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  As I suspected, she won’t answer the question. We’ll have to figure it out another way. Jake will take Sarah’s mobile back to London and try to retrieve the information from the unit.

  Turning back to the shed, she carefully picks up a pot which contains a shoot of purple flowers and, handling it ever so carefully, faces me. “Beautiful, is it not? It needs careful tending to see it through to maturity. Just like I did with you.”

  When I don’t so much as move a muscle, she returns the pot to the long table, removes her gloves, washes her hands, before she turns to me, hands folded across her middle. “I could use Tilly.”

  “Afraid she’s not available. Caught the flu.”

  She allows herself a tiny smirk. “No need to prevaricate. She’s gone, isn’t she? After all these years, she’s finally free of me.” She shrugs. “Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”

  “She served you faithfully for over forty years, Countess.”

  Her hand slashes the air. “She never learned to brew tea properly.” She heaves out a sigh. “I miss the orange pekoe and the savory hams. All we have are dried up biscuits and some inferior tea leaves. Least you could do is provide me with proper sustenance.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Why, thank you, Ainsley.” She approaches, but when she tries to give me a kiss on the cheek, I step back.

  “Such a prickly boy. You never could stand your mother’s kiss Unlike Edward. My son loved me. He went everywhere with me.”

  I never understood why my brother went along on her trips, but then she never treated him the way she did me. And with his death, I will never find out. “Starting tonight, you’ll have an additional guard.” I snap my fingers, and he steps through the door.

  “Oh, how lovely. Someone else to talk to.” She beams at him.

  Obviously, his big and menacing physique is lost on her. “He carries a gun and won’t be afraid to shoot. So I suggest you do as he says. Goodbye, Countess.”

  “Leaving so soon?” She pouts. “And here I thought we’d share a spot of tea.” Her cackling laugh follows me as I step out the door into the parlor to find Sarah Simmons waiting for me.

  “Did you find out anything, Mr. Storm?”

  “Yes. Those purple flowers she’s growing? They’re monkshood, also known as wolf’s bane.”

  “Monkshood?” She appears confused.

  “You’re a city girl, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Monkshood is a poisonous plant. It can kill within seconds of the simplest brush against its leaves.” I’d learned about it in a botany class.

  “But it’s such a pretty flower,” she says in wonder.

  “Beautiful but deadly.” Just like my mother.

  “Is that what she used against me?”

  “If she had, you’d be dead, Ms. Simmons.”

  Her eyes grow big, and she gulps.

  “Get yourself some gloves and get rid of every single plant in that shed. I suspect one of the others can be brewed into a sleeping potion, the one she must have used on you. And then burn everything in that shed. Get rid of that book, too.”

  “Which one?”

  “Highland Horticulture. As a matter of fact, get rid of all the books in the cottage.”

  “Yes, Sir. Right away, Mr. Storm.”

  While I spoke with my mother, Jake remained behind to talk to his operative. He has her phone in his hand. As much as I want to ask him if he found out anything, I don’t. Not here where my mother could overhear our conversation. “Ready, Jake?”

  “Yes.” His expression gives nothing away.

  I limp toward the cottage’s front door, but pause at the threshold to look back at my mother’s guard. “Consider yourself lucky, Ms. Simmons. She could have fed you the wolf’s bane. Don’t turn your back on her.”

  “I won’t, Mr. Storm. You can be sure of that.”

  “Good. Because your life may depend on it.”

  On the helicopter, Jake tells me nothing Ms. Simmons hadn’t told me before. “She followed your instructions to the letter. Searched her for contraband every night before she locked up your mother into her bedroom at night. Handcuffed her if she had to use the facilities.”

  “And still my mother found a way to fool her.”

  “To say the least, I’m disappointed in her. She offered to resign, but I refused to accept it.”

  “She shouldn’t suffer for my mistake. I was the one who assigned only her to guard my mother.”

  “I would have done things differently. Assigned at least two agents to handle your mother. Still, she should have been more vigilant.”

  “What’s done is done. We’ll need to watch Liz more carefully, as well as Brianna and Royce. I wouldn’t put it past the Countess to go after them. What about the phone?”

  “I’ll hand it over to our tech guru. Hopefully, he’ll be
able to work his magic.”

  The Countess could have called anyone in the world on that phone. She could have arranged to have Liz killed.

  “Don’t get your hopes too high, Storm. We probably won’t get the information you want.”

  “But there’s a chance?”

  He nods. “A small one. Yes.”

  “Better than nothing. Call me with the results. I want to know either way.”

  “I will.”

  In Glasgow we part ways. Jake will take a commercial flight back to London while I fly to Washington Dulles. My hope for a prompt departure is dashed. Due to a refueling delay, we don’t get clearance to leave until one in the morning. While I wait, I get a bite to eat.

  Once in the air, I call Liz to tell her I won’t arrive until late. Our third conversation of the day.

  “I’ll wait for you.” She sounds calmer than the last time we talked two hours ago.

  “No, you won’t. Your doctor told you to get some rest, didn’t she?” Liz called earlier to tell me the physician gave her the all-clear sign, but to take a couple of days off to rest. Since I’d phoned her doctor and filled her in on a sanitized version of events—too much work and school, not enough rest—I hadn’t been surprised by the prescription. “When I arrive at the apartment, I want you in bed sleeping.”

  “Dreaming of you?” I’m amazed by the flirty tone to her voice. How she can dredge that up after this horrible day is beyond me.

  “Do you? Dream of me?” I smile as the weight of everything that’s happened rolls off my shoulders.

  “Sometimes.”

  “What do you dream about?”

  Her breath hitches. “Would you like the X-rated or the PG version?”

  “Oh, the X-rated version by all means.” While she talks, I wander to the stateroom on the back of the plane and lie down on the double bed. All alone in the dark with her sexy voice whispering in my ear, I dig into my trousers, curl my hand around my erection and listen to the exquisite details of her erotic dreams.

  “So I yank down your briefs, and you bob up, hard, randy, so eager for me.”

  “I’m always eager for you, love.” My voice’s gone gravelly.