Memory Reload

by Rosemary Heim

  Coming from any other man, she would have found the term belittling. Yet, she missed him calling her baby.

  Maybe she was overreacting. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe it just got confusing to call everyone sugar.

  Still, there was that meaningful look.

  “Sugar?” Ryan’s voice jolted her into the present. “You still there?”

  “I’m just a couple blocks away.” She stopped any further musings. Now was not the time. Here was not the place.

  Never and nowhere, that would be a more appropriate setting for her to ask him about his intentions.

  Ryan didn’t have intentions. He’d been quite clear without ever saying the words. He had no home and no room in his life for a relationship. Especially not with a weak-willed coward like me. He didn’t need someone like her to screw up his life. She shouldn’t mistake his affection for love.

  The fact that she’d fallen in love with him meant nothing. She refused to let it mean anything, because the only men she’d ever loved, who had loved her in return, were both dead. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  Resolved to do whatever it would take to protect Ryan, she parked in front of the gallery. She could see Casey across the street, but neither acknowledged the other in any manner.

  “Show time, sugar.” Ryan’s voice sounded comforting in her ear. “When you’re ready, I’ll start running a tape so we have a record of what happens in there.”

  Alex sat in the car, taking deep breaths. She wanted to still the churning of her stomach, but nothing helped. Might as well get this over with. She smoothed her hair over her ear. Satisfied no visible evidence revealed the earpiece, she stepped out of the car.

  She pulled her camera-bag strap over her shoulder, hugging the reassuring weight close like a security blanket. The notebook was tucked in the front pocket, along with the gun.

  Ryan had taken her to the beach that morning, reloaded the Glock, and showed her the basic steps of gun safety. The last thing she’d wanted to do was handle that ugly reminder of David’s death. If he’d kept the gun, rather than giving it to her for protection, he might have survived the meeting.

  The only good thing about learning to handle the firearm had been Ryan’s arms around her as he taught her the proper grip and shooting posture.

  His warmth had enveloped her, tickled over her skin, rekindling memories of the prior night. Their lovemaking had provided welcome distraction from what the future might be holding.

  Now the future had arrived. Ryan had insisted she take the gun with her. She didn’t want it, hated the sight of it, but took the heavy thing anyway. She knew that he, like David, found a comfort in her being armed. She shuddered at the thought.

  The gallery’s display windows gave a partially obstructed view of the interior. A large sign on an easel inside one window announced her upcoming show; a smaller sign hung on the door, declaring the business “available for private showings.” The borrowed key opened the well-oiled lock with a quiet click.

  With a last glance over her shoulder, she pushed through the glass door and stepped into the cool semidusk of the gallery’s interior. She stopped, not moving any farther into the building, letting her eyes adjust to the low light levels.

  Freestanding walls formed a random pattern in the large open floor plan of the gallery. She recognized her own pictures hanging on some of the walls, but found no desire to look at them. Instead, she forced her breathing to slow and concentrated on listening to the silence around her.

  Nothing moved in the building. If it hadn’t been for the presence of the earpiece, she would have believed herself to be utterly alone.

  She stepped farther into the room, away from the minimal security of knowing Casey could see her through the window. She moved through the main room of the gallery, looking behind each wall, verifying that she was, indeed, alone.

  At the rear of the large refurbished space, an office had been built. The plan called for her settling in the small room before anyone else arrived.

  The door swung open on silent hinges. A small pharmacy lamp sat on the otherwise empty desk. She turned it on with trembling fingers. The large high-backed leather executive chair faced the back wall of the office. She stepped around the desk with the intention of sitting in the imposing thing. That would put her in the power position, with her back to a wall, facing anything that might come toward her.

  Before she took a second step, the chair moved on its own volition. Her breath caught in her throat. She hugged the bag closer.

  “Hello, Lexa,” a hatefully recognized voice said.

  She’d wanted to be wrong, to believe she’d escaped this devil when the Angelinis had brought her home.

  The chair stopped its slow revolution. In the dim light she came face-to-face with her past.

  She tried to step back, wanted to flee, every instinct screamed “escape.” Her heart pounded a furious rhythm but she didn’t move. Ryan and the others were depending on her. She prayed her voice wouldn’t reveal her fear. “You’re early.”

  Ryan’s soft oath joined the buzzing in her head. “Tape’s rolling,” whispered in her ear. “We’re with you, baby.”

  Calm settled over her with the reassurance that Ryan and his team knew the sting was starting early.

  “What, no joyous greeting, my dear?”

  “Did you really expect one?” Her throat ached as she pushed the words past tight lips.

  “I must admit I was rather surprised to receive your message. You seemed rather anxious to see me.”

  The team had run through dozens of scenarios. She thought they’d covered every eventuality. But none of the rehearsals had come anywhere close to preparing her for the reality.

  She took a steadying breath. “I was curious about what enticed the mighty Frank Sullivan to leave L.A.”

  “Think about it a moment.” Sullivan glanced at his Rolex watch. “I’m sure something will come to you. You were always the brightest, Lexa. You usually figured things out quite easily. When you weren’t in a drugged stupor that is.”

  “I’m not her, not anymore. She died when I got out of L.A.” She hated the nickname. Frank Sullivan was the only one who’d ever called her Lexa.

  “Come now. Is that any way to behave? I thought I taught you better than that.”

  “You taught me nothing I need to remember.”

  “Oh, I think you’re very wrong about that, Lexa. You learned well enough.” One corner of his thin-lipped mouth tipped up in what might have been called a smile by someone less familiar with his character. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have called my associate and insisted on meeting with me.”

  Her heart pounded in her throat.

  “Keep him talking, sugar. You’re doing great.”

  Great? She was dying. She could barely breathe. Her pulse had to be off the charts. The only reason she still stood was because fear kept her immobile.

  “What are you doing here in Hawaii?”

  “Like any good businessman, I always look for opportunity. Honolulu’s potential caught my attention several years ago. I took advantage of a situation and expanded my operations to include this fair island.”

  “Why are you here? Don’t you trust your associates to run the business?”

  Sullivan chuckled. “As much as I trust anyone. Which is not at all.” He glanced at his watch again. “We’re almost out of time, Lexa. Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know.”

  “David and Justin. Why did you kill them?”

  “The Angelinis took something that belonged to me.” Sullivan raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in a slight nod at her. “That was their first mistake.”

  “Me?” Her world dipped and swayed. She wished for a chair, a wall, something to lean against before her strength deserted her completely. “You killed them because they helped me?”

  Sullivan shook his head. “Now, Lexa. You know me better than that.”

  She did know him. Better than she wanted to. Ea
ch of his answers had been carefully worded, falling short of admitting wrongdoing. Ryan would need something more concrete if they stood any hope of stopping Sullivan. She focused on his words as he continued.

  “They set about trying to destroy a very lucrative branch of my business. No one does that and gets away with it. Those who wrong me must pay the price, to serve as a warning to others.”

  A muffled sound came through the earpiece. Ryan. Hope stiffened her knees. If she kept Sullivan talking, Ryan would be able to get all the evidence on tape. The Angelinis would finally be avenged.

  Help me, Ryan. What do I do? No guiding words came over the earpiece. He was leaving the direction up to her. She released her held breath on a near-silent sigh. “So you sat back in the shadows and directed your ‘associates’ to do the dirty work. That is how you normally operate, I believe.”

  “Very good. You would have been a worthy partner for me, if only you hadn’t let the drugs take control.”

  “Just one of the things I have you to thank for.” She hadn’t wanted to remember that detail. Now Ryan knew, too.

  “Judging by the call you placed to Mr. Pela, it would seem you did manage to learn a little about the blackmail business while you were with me.”

  “You always said you were the master of the perfect scheme.”

  “Unfortunately, you should never have attempted to follow in my path. You simply aren’t up to it. Why don’t you give me the book you claim to have and we can be done?”

  “No. You don’t get what you want until I get what I want.”

  “And what would that be, Lexa?”

  “You’re the master. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Money?” That had always been the ruling tenet in Sullivan’s business. Money equaled power.

  “David and Justin were idealists.” Trust me, Ryan, please. “I’ve learned to be more of a realist. Money is part of it.” She didn’t elaborate and let the silence lengthen. People tended to become uncomfortable with lengthy silences. The ploy might not work with Sullivan since she’d learned that particular stratagem from him. But she needed every chance she could find.

  Sullivan heaved a condescending sigh. “Really, Lexa.”

  She didn’t respond to his chiding tone.

  “Very well. One more lesson. You say you have information that is damaging to me. That is your primary tool. With that as leverage, you can make certain demands. We’ve established money is one. I imagine another is that you want me to stay out of your life.” He stood, shot the cuffs of his handmade shirt and smoothed the creases from his Armani suit jacket before moving around the desk.

  Nothing about him had changed since her escape. He still seemed to loom over her, even though she nearly matched him in height. From his impeccably groomed dark widow’s peak to the tips of his Bruno Magli shoes, he oozed dominance.

  Her instinct screamed to keep as much distance between them as possible. The urge to step back nearly got the better of her, but retreating would reveal weakness. She stood her ground.

  Sullivan stopped next to her, too close, invading her personal space. The subtle scent of his expensive cologne threatened to choke her. She swallowed convulsively, but didn’t move.

  He smiled, leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Is it revenge you hope for, Lexa?”

  Yes, she’d like revenge. Against him for trying to destroy her life, first in L.A. and now here. Against Pela for killing David. Against whoever had pulled the trigger on Justin.

  He walked past her, forcing her to turn and follow him into the gallery. The shadows deepened as he led her farther away from the light streaming in the front windows. The only illumination came from security lights recessed in the high ceiling.

  At last he stopped. Three partitions, her photographs covering the surfaces, surrounded them, forming an open U. He stood in front of a triptych of miniature prints.

  “I must say, you do nice work, Lexa.”

  She wished he’d stop using that name. Telling him to quit would do no good. That would reveal too much and give him even more of an edge. She’d learned the hard way that standing up to Frank Sullivan got you hurt.

  Or dead.

  He turned to face her. “The proper response to a compliment is a gracious ‘thank-you.’ Surely you remember that lesson, Lexa.”

  A shudder of memory trickled down her back.

  Lexa was weak, dependent, barely a shadow of a human. That wasn’t her, not anymore, no matter how often he tried to remind her. She’d escaped that persona. David and Justin had freed her from that hell when they brought her back to the island.

  Alex pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin. David and Justin had believed in her. So did Ryan. He must. He hadn’t said a word to her in the last seven minutes. Surely that meant he trusted her to make the right decisions.

  If nothing else, she could pretend to believe in herself. At least until this was over.

  “You’re stalling, Sullivan.” That felt good. Lexa would never have dared use his last name so casually.

  Frank stared at her a moment before he raised his arms in a gesture of innocence. “I can’t imagine what you’re implying.”

  “You’re waiting for Pela to arrive. Then you can keep true to form and leave the dirty work to him.”

  “I must say, this new you is quite impressive.” He gave her a slow once-over. “I believe you’ve actually grown a backbone. Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

  He turned away and moved to the next partition to study that arrangement of photographs.

  Panic simmered, eating away at her stomach. Everything was wrong. Pela should have arrived by now. Ryan should be giving her direction.

  Why wasn’t he talking? She needed his help. She needed him to tell her what to do.

  The confident façade she’d pulled around herself began to crumble faster than she could rebuild.

  Sullivan turned to glance at her. The smug expression on his face prodded her determination. Trust your instincts, Jamie had told her.

  She could do this. She had to. She had to rely on herself, not Ryan. Facing down Sullivan would be the hardest test she’d ever have to endure.

  “Before he gets here, why don’t we work out an agreement?”

  Sullivan faced her fully. “You’ve piqued my interest. Go on.”

  “You can’t really expect to get away with this scheme much longer.”

  “Which scheme? The blackmail or the murders?” He waved a hand, dismissing his own question. “No matter. The answer is the same. Both will function exactly as long as I require.”

  “Not if the information I have gets out in the open.” She shifted the camera bag from her left shoulder to her right.

  “Continue.”

  “You’re right. I want money and revenge. One will accomplish the other.”

  “Intriguing.” Sullivan glanced at his damned watch again as he crossed his arms. “Perhaps you could explain that a little further?”

  “You’re a patron of the arts. I have no desire to be a starving artist. What I propose is that you provide sufficient funds so I can pursue my photography career. As long as the money arrives on a timely basis, the notebook never sees the light of day.”

  “And the revenge?”

  “Actually, making you pay me…”

  “Very good.” Sullivan smiled. “Of course you don’t have all the pieces for a successful transaction yet. You’ve yet to prove your little notebook exists or that it links me to anything.”

  “It exists. Even without it, you’ve just bragged about everything to me. Do you think I wouldn’t testify against you?”

  “Hearsay, nothing more. And what court would give credence to a former junkie bent on revenge. Especially when the victim of that misguided revenge is a respected businessman?”

  “There is the link to Pela and Walker. When they go down, so will you.”

  “My, my. You seem very confident, considering you’re here alone, unarmed. What makes you think yo
u could ever succeed in exposing my operation?”

  “What makes you think I’m alone? I may have a little angel who whispers in my ear, telling me what to do.”

  “Really? What is he telling you to do now?”

  Her angel stayed frighteningly silent. She desperately wanted Ryan’s reassuring whisper telling her she was going in the right direction. Please, Ryan, tell me what to do. The silence in her ear continued. Why didn’t he say something?

  “Perhaps your angel has fallen silent?” Sullivan lifted a hand and signaled. “Perhaps he’s just fallen.”

  Shadows beyond the display walls shifted, separated from the encompassing blackness. Two men came forward, dragging a third form between them.

  Pela and Walker. All the pieces of the puzzle together. Now. Too late to do any good.

  They stopped halfway between her and Sullivan and dumped a man on the floor. Walker prodded the unmoving figure with one booted foot, rolling the unconscious man onto his back.

  The dim light revealed the man’s bloodied face.

  Bile churned in her stomach. She would have collapsed if horror hadn’t frozen her in place.

  Dear God, it was Ryan.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alex struggled to breathe. How had they found Ryan? What had they done to him? She watched for some indication that he was still alive.

  “This wouldn’t happen to be your angel, would it? You didn’t waste much time finding a replacement for your last angel. Or should I say Angelini?”

  Sullivan’s words registered in one part of her brain, the part tallying every foul deed that could be pinned to him. Another part focused on Ryan, praying in silence, urging him to move. His eyelids flickered but remained closed.

  Panic and relief rolled through her stomach in a sickening dance. He wasn’t dead. She drew a slow breath and forced her attention away from him.

  The other team members had to know something had gone wrong. If not when Ryan fell out of communication, then surely when Matt saw him being dragged in the back door. The team would be regrouping.