The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  David raked his hand through his hair and lowered his head for a moment as if thinking of his reply. When he looked up, his eyes appeared cold and distant.

  “After you discovered the reason why Sammy hired me, I returned to New York. I missed you and needed someone to talk to about everything that had happened between us. Dallas was there. I ended up telling him a great deal about you.”

  I nodded. “He told me that.”

  “Did he happen to mention that he was in love with you long before you two ever met?” David paused and waited for my response. I had none. “I didn’t think so,” he asserted. “It soon became apparent to me that he had fallen in love with the Nicci that I had gone on and on about. And then he asked me to paint him a picture of Jenny before I returned to New Orleans. He was my friend and I felt obligated to paint the portrait for him. But I would never have given him the damned thing if I had known you two would end up together.”

  “What about asking him to take care of me?”

  “I never asked him to do that!” David refuted. “He told me if I should ever need him to look after you, if I ever had to go away, then he said he would make sure you were kept safe.”

  “Why would Dallas lie to me about saying that?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe he wanted to make it appear as if I was giving your relationship my blessing. He probably thought it would help ease your guilt about being with him.”

  I looked warily at David. “That doesn’t sound like something Dallas would do.”

  “Dallas is a master manipulator, Nicci. He can read people like a book and knows what to say to get them to do his bidding. Worked on you, didn’t it?”

  I said nothing and let a few moments of edgy silence click by.

  “It’s good to see you painting again,” I said casually, wanting to close the emotional gap between us. “I missed watching you paint.”

  David walked to where my book had landed on the floor. He picked it up and gently wiped the cover with his hand.

  “How is the writing going?” he asked in a calmer voice.

  “My new book comes out next month.”

  He raised his eyebrows “Am I in it?”

  “No, it’s about hunting for your killer in post Katrina New Orleans.”

  “Is Dallas in it?”

  “I based the main character on him.”

  David snickered. “Then I’m sure I’ll hate it.”

  He walked across the room and placed his copy of Painting Jenny on top of his bed.

  I moved closer to him. “After Dallas came to see you yesterday, Greg Caston dropped by for a visit.”

  He placed his hand on his hip. “You need to be careful around Caston, Nicci. He was always a back stabbing son of a bitch who would have sold out his own mother to get ahead.”

  “How do you know so much about him?”

  “He used to work for Simon. I was just a kid when he was there, but I remember how cruel he was. Caston went to a few of Simon’s big client’s and got backing to start his own organization. Simon has never forgiven him. That was around the same time he started grooming me to take over. I guess he figured I was young enough to mold into someone he could depend on to run his organization.” He paused and nodded his head at me. “So what did Caston say to you?”

  I shrugged. “That he wanted to get to know me.”

  “He was testing you,” David said, smiling.

  “What do you mean, testing me?”

  He waved his hand casually about in the air. “When you’re going after a target you need to appear unexpectedly in places to gauge their reaction. Surprised individuals are usually easier to manipulate than those who are suspicious and resentful of such an encounter. It’s a method often used for evaluating how receptive a target will be to your advances.”

  I shook my head. “Honestly, David, the more I hear about your past and your business with Simon the more—”

  “You hate me,” he inserted.

  “No, the more I wonder how a man like you ever got tangled up in all of that.”

  He furrowed his brow. “A man like me?”

  I gazed into his eyes and felt the anger flow out of me like a retreating tide from a sandy shore.

  “You were a wonderful, warm, genuine man with so much talent. How could you have stayed with a petty, cruel creature like Simon La Roy?”

  His gray eyes glared at me. “What do you mean were? You don’t think I’m still wonderful?”

  “Not at this particular moment.”

  “Then perhaps I should refresh your memory.” He pulled me into his arms.

  I struggled to free myself of his embrace. “Don’t do this, David.”

  “Why? Because of Dallas?” He lowered his head to mine. “Give me this, just once, Nicci. And then I will walk away forever,” he whispered.

  He kissed me. His lips pressed against mine with such urgency, such an overpowering hunger, that I was instantly transported back in time to our first kiss in the darkness of the Botanical Gardens of City Park. Passion, so long buried beneath the weight of my memories, rose inside of me like boiling water erupting from a geyser. I felt the blood surging through me as my mouth opened to accept his and my body began molding to him. With every passing breath, I could feel us conforming to each other, becoming intimately familiar again. And for a moment, it was as if the nightmares of the past had never happened.

  He was the first to pull away. He released me and took a step back.

  “I can’t do this.”

  I looked up into his face, trying to understand why he had pushed me away. I took a step toward him, but he backed away from me.

  “You’re not mine to take,” he softly said. “I thought when you came here it was for me, but I don’t know any more if it is because of your pity for me, or your guilt, that you’re standing here.”

  “What are you talking about, David?”

  “What do I mean to you, Nicci? Right now. Today. Not the David I used to be. That man died when Michael shot him. I need to know that you can accept me as I am. I need to know that I’m the only one. I won’t share you with another.”

  All the intimacy between us instantly washed away. He was a stranger again; a man who looked like my David, but acted like someone I had never met.

  “I’d better go.” I turned back to the spiral staircase.

  I quickly headed down the stairs and out the front door, wanting to put as much space as I could between us. As I made my way across the courtyard, I wiped the tears from my eyes. That was the problems with dreams coming true. We think every fulfilled dream will only bring us happiness. But every dream has a price, because when dreams do come true, they never quite turn out the way the dreamer intended.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I returned to Val’s house, Dallas was waiting in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast table, and nursing a drink in his hands.

  “I didn’t think you would be back so soon.”

  I went to Val’s liquor cabinet, located next to the built-in refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

  “Yeah, well, we didn’t have a whole hell of a lot to say to each other,” I angrily stated and pulled a glass from the cabinet above the kitchen sink.

  I poured a measure of vodka into my glass and went to the refrigerator to get the orange juice.

  “Is that why you need a drink?” he inquired. “Or did something else happen between you two?”

  “What are you asking, Dallas?”

  Dallas sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Did you sleep with him?”

  “Are you kidding me? Is that what you think? I ran over there to have sex with David? Did it ever occur to you that maybe he and I have a lot of things to discuss?”

  “Like what?” he asked, raising his voice slightly. “I find it hard to believe that you could open up to David any more than you could open up to me. I know you Nicci, and you don’t share your feelings with anyone.”

  I forced back the bar
rage of words I wanted to spray at him. Instead, I poured my drink and returned the orange juice to the fridge, slamming the refrigerator door closed with all my might.

  “Perhaps it would be better for all major appliances if you told either David, or me, how you feel?” Dallas pursued. “Sooner or later, Nicci, you’re going to have to tell somebody what is rambling around in that heart of yours. You’ve always kept so much locked away inside of you.”

  “Funny, I always thought the same about you.” I picked up my cocktail and took a long sip.

  “You already know how I feel.” Dallas rose from the chair. “You don’t need that,” he insisted, taking the drink from my hand. “You need to be sharp for your date with Caston tonight.”

  I trembled as I thought about the evening ahead of me.

  “Despite what you may think of David or me, you still have a job to do.” He went to the sink and poured out my drink. “Wear that green velvet dress I gave you last December for Val’s party. You need to be the center of attention tonight.”

  “If it makes you feel any better I didn’t sleep with him,” I admitted.

  “I know,” Dallas assured me. “If you had, you wouldn’t have needed the drink.”

  ***

  Gregory Caston arrived at precisely seven thirty. I was in my bedroom, putting the last touches of make up on my face, when I heard the doorbell. As I quickly checked my reflection in the mirror once more, I ran my hand over my green velvet beaded gown.

  “Prompt little shit, isn’t he?” Dallas commented from the bedroom door.

  I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe. “Do you want me to answer it?” he asked, tauntingly.

  He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo. His expensive stainless steel watch gleamed on his wrist as the smell of his spicy cologne wafted into my room. There were times when his good looks took me off guard.

  I hurriedly grabbed my handbag, “No, I’ll get it, you….” I stopped myself and looked over at him. “What are you going to do tonight?”

  He grinned. “I’ll be shadowing you at the party.”

  “Are you sure you should take that chance? This is a big event and there will be a lot of people there and probably a lot of security as well.”

  “Nicci, I know how to do my job. You just worry about Caston tonight. Remember, if things get to be too much don’t panic. You’re at a public event surrounded by lots of witnesses. You can simply leave the party and come back here.”

  “What if Greg wants to be alone with me?”

  “You’re going to have to go with him. Refusing him might look suspicious. You’re supposed to be gaining his confidence, not pushing him away.” The doorbell rang again. “You’d better go,” he said.

  I made it to the living room in time to hear the doorbell ringing yet again. I took a deep breath and tried to settle the hornet’s nest that was burning inside of my stomach.

  “I just know dealing with all of these men has got to be giving me an ulcer.”

  ***

  Greg’s gallery was located in the Warehouse District of downtown New Orleans not far from the docks scattered along the Mississippi River. The entrance to the three-story old brick building was bustling with people dressed in haute couture and arriving in long limousines. Greeting the guests at the curb were black tie waiters with silver trays filled with flutes of champagne. As Greg exited our limousine, a flash went off. He reached inside the back of the car for me, and when I stepped onto the curb a photographer snapped my picture.

  Greg gave a tolerant smile to the photographer. “I’m known for my charity events and The Times-Picayune likes to add highlights of me, as well as my guests, on the society page. It helps with donations.”

  I smiled for the photographer. “It’s good to know that the philanthropist side of you is being recognized by the local media.”

  Greg chuckled as he eased me away from the curb. “Yes, but the same media takes their shots at me too, Nicci. They like telling lies about me and setting other local business owners against me.”

  “Why would they do that, Greg? I’m sure you have nothing to hide.”

  Greg glared at me with his intense eyes. “Your friend Simon La Roy doesn’t think so. He’s been telling lies about me for years.”

  “What kind of lies?”

  Greg contemplated the guests gathering outside of the entrance to his gallery. “I don’t think that matters. I hired extra security to make sure he does not surprise us tonight. Let’s not mention his name any more this evening.”

  We stepped through the front doors to find the entrance hallway of the gallery filled with a line of receiving tables. Guests were signing in and showing invitations to pretty girls in short, black dresses. Greg stopped and chatted casually with a few of the people standing in line. Once inside the central portion of the main gallery, Greg stopped a waiter, who was passing by with a loaded down silver tray of champagne, and grabbed two flutes. He handed me a glass and smiled.

  “All they will be serving tonight is Dom Perignon. I can have one of my staff run out and get you whatever you wish to drink.”

  I took the glass from his hand, frowning slightly. “That’s all right. But Dom Perignon is not one of my favorites. I prefer La Grande Dame to most champagne.”

  “You’re quite right, Nicci. La Grande Dame is a much better champagne, but among the socially empowered but culturally inept individuals here tonight, Dom Perignon means money. To make money with this crowd, you must first cater to their wishes, no matter how unpalatable they may be.”

  I refrained from smirking. “Yes, not everyone can be expected to meet such dizzying standards.”

  “You’re a snob, Ms. Beauvoir.”

  I raised my head, proudly. “Of course, Mr. Caston. Do you disapprove?”

  “Not at all. I like a woman who knows her worth.”

  “Does Ms. Ryan know her worth?” I asked not being able to resist the opportunity to mention the woman I was trying to usurp.

  He raised his eyebrows looking thoroughly amused. “Jenny? A pleasant diversion, but she means nothing to me. She originally came to New Orleans with a man of underworld repute and I won her in a poker game.”

  I felt my insides seethe. To be so nonchalant about winning a woman in a card game made the man appear more revolting to me than ever before.

  “Do you feel all women are a commodity to be traded away on a whim?”

  “Hardly. The man I won the girl from was a common thug and the few minutes I watched him beating her convinced me that the girl needed rescuing.”

  “Who will you give the girl to when you’re finished with her?”

  “Jenny Ryan is free to leave me whenever she likes. She has a job; one that I got her, with a local art gallery. She does pretty well without any assistance from me. Not bad for a run away from Hackensack.” He took a sip from his champagne. “Who could compare the infantile twatter of that New Jersey throwback to you.” He waved a hand at me. “You’re eloquent, poised and—”

  “I’m the real Jenny and not a Jersey knock off,” I injected.

  His face fell slightly. I could immediately detect the hint of irritation in his eyes. “So you have discovered my weakness.”

  “I would be a fool not to see the resemblance between Ms. Ryan and myself. I was told you have an affinity for all things Jenny.”

  He leaned in closer to me. “What else did Simon tell you about me?”

  “That I was not to trust you,” I answered with a grin.

  Greg snorted with displeasure. “Simon is the one you shouldn’t be trusting, Nicci. I used to work for Simon many years ago, before your Mr. Alexander started up in the ranks. Then I left and opened my own organization with the generous backing of several of his prized clients.”

  “I heard about that too.”

  He appeared surprised. “From Simon?”

  “From Dallas August.”

  “I thought you two had parted company?”

  “We have. However,
he heard about our being seen together and felt he should warn me about you. Dallas always was the overprotective type.”

  He put his drink down on a nearby table. “You know Simon wasn’t happy about losing his best man to you, Nicci. When Dallas packed up and left his camp, well, quite of a few of us Simon haters secretly applauded you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” I took another sip from my champagne.

  Greg escorted me around the main gallery on the first floor, introducing me to friends and associates along the way. He made a point of leaning over to whisper interesting tidbits about each of his guests in my ear. I noticed some familiar faces around the room watching our movements and whispering among themselves. By morning, I figured well over half of the New Orleans social set would have heard of my date with Gregory Caston.

  After an hour of socializing with his guests, a petite brunette came up to Greg’s side and whispered in his ear. The girl then promptly turned from him and disappeared into the crowd.

  “If you will excuse me,” Greg turned to me and I could see the pained expression of frustration in his eyes. “I have a small matter to attend to in my office. I promise I won’t be long. Amuse yourself with the paintings and the guests while I’m gone.”

  “It’s quite all right, Greg.”

  He gave me one last glance and hastily walked away. When he came to the edge of the gallery floor, I eagerly watched as he disappeared behind a door marked “no admittance.”

  “I see you’re making headway with Caston,” a familiar voice said behind me.

  I turned to see Dallas staring at me.

  I nodded my head to him and smiled. “How did you get past security?”

  “Not a problem if you know how to blend in. You two seem to be getting quite cozy.”

  I rubbed my hands together, as I took in the crowd of people milling around us. “As cozy as necessary to keep him interested.”

  Dallas smiled. “Very good, Nicci.” He came closer to my side and whispered, “He has a problem brewing in his office with that girlfriend of his, Ms. Ryan. Someone must have told the girl about your date tonight. Fortunately, one of the attendants out front spotted her at the door and escorted her to a rear entrance.”