"Sorry kids," Frank said breathlessly as he approached the table. "You two have a decision to make," he declared, sitting down and staring at them urgently. "But you only have thirty-seconds to make it."
"Thirty-seconds?" Colleen repeated. "Why thirty-seconds."
"That was Jennifer. Her real name is Chelsea. It was her and her boyfriend who broke into your house. Right now he's delivering everything to his fence. Apparently he rarely lets her out of his sight and she doesn't know how long he'll be gone. Prepare yourself. They're your neighbors. They live at number 41."
"I don't believe it."
"We can call the police, or we can pick her up and give her a second chance. I'll take her to Harriet's. It's your call. Both of you."
"Who's Harriet?" Colleen asked, "and how do we know this isn't just another scam?"
"Harriet runs a shelter for women in trouble, and it's not a scam. She'll wait for us in the alley behind the house. Yes or no?"
Colleen and Tony said yes in unison.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Not knowing when Scott would return, they raced from the cafe, but Frank wasn't about to be stopped for speeding. As he drove his Bentley slowly through the city streets, Colleen was impressed by his cool demeanor. She and Tony had decided to pick up her car, so Frank was going to drop them off, then whisk Chelsea to safety.
"What will you do if Scott comes back while you're there?" Colleen asked. "That's the only thing that scares me. What if he's violent? What if he has a gun?"
"A gun could be a problem, but not one I can't handle," Frank replied as he turned down her street. "If he's come home, Chelsea won't be waiting for me and I'll just have to play it by ear. I'm sure as hell not leaving without her. Which is the best entrance to the alley?"
"Turn right at the next block. You'll see it on the left."
Driving into the narrow lane, they could see Chelsea leaning against a fence with a small bag on the ground next to her. Frank stopped at Colleen's back gate, and as Colleen and Tony climbed out, they saw the young woman hobbling forward.
"What's wrong with her?" Colleen asked as Frank sped off to pick her up. "She can hardly walk."
"I have no idea. Frank will find out."
"Are we going straight to the airport from the office?"
"That would be best, but we need to go inside for a minute. It's time for you to hear about your surprise."
But as he opened the gate, they came to an abrupt halt. Yellow tape cordoned off most of the yard, and they could clearly see footprints in the grass.
"Holy crap!" Colleen exclaimed. "They carried everything out of my place and down to theirs. I just realized something. I think it was the couple in number forty-one who went on a cruise. I don't really pay much attention to the neighbors, but I'm pretty sure it was them."
"Scott and Chelsea must have been house-sitting," he said as they began walking around the tape. "Talk about letting the fox into the henhouse."
"Foxes," Colleen corrected him. "I wonder if they knew the couple were gone and just took over the house uninvited."
"It's possible. Weird that the police didn't tape off the gate."
"Or this back door," she remarked as she pushed it open, then closing it behind them, she turned the deadbolt. "At least that still works."
"You didn't have it bolted?"
"I must not have. Nothing ever happens around here. I'm an idiot."
"Don't beat yourself up. It wouldn't have stopped him. You might have saved yourself a broken window, but let's talk about more pleasant things," he said, pulling her into his arms. "We're not going to Houston."
"We're not?"
"We're not. Get your passport. We're off to London."
"Excuse me?"
"We'll be leaving at seven o'clock."
"But that's crazy."
"It is crazy, and I haven't done anything spontaneous and crazy for a very long time. It's overdue."
"How can you get away?"
"Emily started to give me all the reasons I can't, but I shut her down."
"You're serious."
"Yeah, I'm serious. Unless you don't want to go."
"Are you kidding? Of course I want to go."
"There's more. As we speak, an appointment is being made with Harrods."
"You mean, like a personal shopper?"
"No," he said, suddenly laughing. "For Kiss Me Cosmetics."
"Kiss Me in Harrods? That would be a dream come true."
"I'll be happy to kiss you in Harrods," he said with a wink.
"I can't believe it. I truly can't believe it. How can you manage something like that on such short notice?"
"I called in a favor. Do you have a sample case here?"
"I have several. I like keeping them around. They inspire me."
"I thought you would. Okay, grab your passport and whatever else you need, and let's go. We both have work to do before we leave."
"I'm so excited. Thank you, thank you, thank you," she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and planting kisses across his face.
"Thank you for breaking me out of my rut. You breathed fresh air into my life, but we can thank each other properly at thirty-five thousand feet."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As Chelsea climbed into Frank's car, he couldn't believe the state of her. A bad leg wasn't her only problem. She could barely move her arm, her eyes were red and puffy, and she was frighteningly pale.
"What happened to you?"
"I had a bit of an accident. I'm sorry I'm such a mess."
"Don't be sorry, not for a minute," he said, driving down the alley and turning into the street.
"Scott will have a fit if he finds me. I'd hate for you to get hurt."
"He won't find you, and even if he did, he won't be hurting you or anyone else, believe me."
"Where are we going?"
He could hear the fear in her voice. Her leap of faith had taken a huge amount of courage.
"First, to an emergency clinic that's run by a friend of mine. Your injuries need to be looked at, and Chelsea, you don't have to worry. I don't want anything from you. Life's been good to me. Remember I told you about Angels of the Night? It's how I give back," he said, softening his voice. "Can you tell me how you got hurt?"
"It's not a good story."
"Of course it isn't. Look at the state of you. Did it happen on a job?"
"Uh-huh. We were in the driveway of this beautiful home. It was raining really hard, and it was dark. I tripped over a hose and twisted my knee and my elbow hit the concrete. I fell hard. It was so bad. I didn't want to be there doing what we were doing. I swear I didn't. Then I didn't want to get up. I wanted to stay there and drown in the rain. I didn't know if…" but her voice trailed off as tears began to slip from her eyes.
"Hey. It's okay. You're safe now," Frank said, wishing he could find better words. "I know you must have been terrified when you called me, but you won't regret it. I promise."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Colleen quickly changed and threw some things in a bag for the exciting, unexpected trip. It wasn't easy seeing the empty places where her precious belongings once sat, but she was hopeful about their return. Hurrying down the stairs, she dashed into her office to grab a sample case, then hurried into the garage. The door was open, and Tony was behind the wheel talking on the phone. As she climbed in and he slowly rolled down the driveway into the street, the phone automatically switched to blue tooth.
"Colleen is in the car now, David. Before you bring her up to speed, tell her about the message you received from Bob Harrison."
"Sure. Hi, Colleen. He just left me a voice mail apologizing for his rudeness this morning."
"Bob Harrison? You're sure it was Bob Harrison?"
"I'm sure."
"Making a deal is like buying an expensive pair of shoes," Tony interjected. "The deal has to fit. If it doesn't, put it back on the shelf. There's always another deal around the corner, just like there's another pair of shoes in the next sho
p. Walking away is a whole lot easier than being stuck with a pair of shoes that hurt your feet, especially if you invested a bunch of money. Anyway, David, go ahead and tell her what led up to that apology."
"As you know, last week I was dealing with—"
"Sorry to interrupt, David," Colleen said interrupting him, spying a black van driving towards them. "Can we call you back."
"Sure. I'll be here."
"What's up?" Tony asked as he ended the call.
"Do you think that could be my burglar up ahead?"
"Could be. A black van with tinted windows doesn't exactly fit this neighborhood. Looks like Frank picked up Chelsea with only a few minutes to spare."
"He'll know this is my car. He'll know it's me."
"But he has no clue that you know who he is."
"That's true, but seeing him is still scary."
"We're about to pass. Don't pay him any attention."
"Okay. I'll go through my bag."
"Good idea."
Though Tony kept his eyes focused in front of him, he could glimpse the driver of the van with his peripheral vision. It was the bartender from The Caramel Apple.
"That was Scott," Tony muttered as he continued down the block. "Before you call David back, I want to check something."
Dialing 411 on the car's console screen, he asked for the number of the bar. He was connected, and a perky female voice answered the call.
"The Caramel Apple. How may I help you?"
"Hello. My name's Tony McIntyre. Who's this?"
"Sara. Sara Parker."
"Hi, Sara. I hope you can help me. I'm trying to get hold of one of your bartenders. His name is Scott. I was in there a couple of nights ago, and I promised I'd get back to him about some second-hand law books I have."
"That's nice of you."
"It's my pleasure. I have no use for them anymore, but I must have written his number down wrong. It's not working, and I won't be able to get there for a few days."
"I have it right here. Are you ready?"
"Yes, thank you."
Grabbing her phone, Colleen entered the numbers as the bubbly voice recited them.
"Thank you, Sara. Bye."
"Bye."
"Why did you want his phone number?" Colleen asked as he ended the call.
"To be honest, I'm not sure, but I'm glad I have it. I think it might come in handy. My phone is in my pocket. Could you please fish it out and add it to my contacts, but don't use the name Scott. Put it under the name Bad Guy."
"Perfect," she said, leaning over and thrusting her hand into his jacket. "This is tempting."
"Don't you dare. I'm driving."
"Sometimes my hands are like yours. They have a mind of their own," she murmured, sliding her fingers over his thigh. "Your friend down here isn't complaining."
"Colleen O'Connell, I won't tell you again."
"Spoilsport," she grumbled, sitting back and entering the phone number.
He smiled. She was feeling better, but seeing Scott had been unnerving. Frank had rescued Chelsea, but Tony had a feeling the drama had just begun.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A pretty young blonde had once told Scott his heart wasn't a heart, but a block of ice that pumped chilled water through his veins. He'd been choking the life out of her at the time, but he'd taken a moment to tell her she was right. Seconds later she'd fallen lifeless in his arms.
His fits of temper weren't fits of temper at all. They were manipulations. Everything he did was a manipulation. His life was a series of maneuvers, and nothing rattled him. If a scheme didn't go according to plan, he'd pause, recalculate, and proceed. His ardent displays of affection were fabricated. His ability to produce tears, behave lovingly, and demonstrate deep caring, were worthy of an Oscar.
He was a psychopath.
A highly tuned predator, he had the keen instincts of a wild animal. When he'd arrived at Winston's and began unloading the van, an uneasy feeling had started to creep through his body. Chelsea was a mess. She could barely walk, he suspected she may have fractured her elbow, and she was getting sick. What could she possibly do in such a state? But he knew better than to ignore his instincts.
"Winston, I have to go," he'd suddenly exclaimed. "I'll call you."
"We're not done!"
But Scott had already been climbing behind the wheel.
Driving hell-bent-for-leather, edginess burning in his gut, he'd almost lost control taking a corner too fast. Crashing his van wasn't an option and he'd forced himself to slow down. When he'd turned down his street, he'd spied a white Lexus SUV driving towards him. He'd known immediately it was the Lexus that belonged to number forty-seven.
"Fuck. Talk about timing," he muttered under his breath. "It doesn't matter. She has no idea who I am."
But a minute later, as the SUV neared, he could see it wasn't a woman behind the wheel. As he glided past and glanced across at the driver, he'd recognized him immediately. It was Tony McIntyre. The guy who'd come into the bar.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Does it matter?" he'd muttered. "Shit. It might. Did he see me? Does it matter if he did?"
In spite of his attempts to reassure himself, everything in him had told him it was bad.
A few minutes later, when he walked into the house and found Chelsea had done a bunk, he clenched his fists and growled. He didn't believe in coincidences, and he never left behind loose ends.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The day had zipped by.
Emily had kept Tony busy ensuring things would be under control while he was cruising over the Atlantic. Colleen had settled into the conference room and spent most of her time dealing with her insurance company. When Emily called her to tell her the car was expected at any moment, Colleen was shocked at how quickly the afternoon had passed.
"Tony would like you to come to his office," Emily continued. "I have to dash off. Just let yourself in when you get here."
"Thank you. Tell him I'll only be a moment."
Closing her laptop, Colleen picked up her purse, strode down the hall and entered Tony's suite. Emily was already gone, and gently knocking on Tony's door, she pushed it open and found him with his sleeves rolled up, standing at the window gazing out at the city.
"There you are," he said, slowly turning around. "How can you look so gorgeous after being cooped up in that conference room all day?"
"I don't feel particularly gorgeous."
"Take it from me, you are."
"You appeared to be deep in thought."
"I suppose I was," he said, moving towards her. "I used to dream about looking out over the city and feeling like a conqueror. That dream has come true, but it's been made so much sweeter."
Though he hadn't added the words—because of you—he hadn't needed to. They were shining out of his eyes. As he wrapped his arms around her, in spite of the dramatic events of the day, she let out a happy sigh.
"There's one thing I need to take care of before the car gets here."
"Can I help?"
"You can do more than help."
Holding her hand he led her across to the door, locked it, then guiding her to the couch, he dropped down and pulled her over his knee.
"What are you doing?"
"Not the smartest question you ever asked," he retorted, quickly pulling up her skirt. "Garters and lacy panties. Very nice."
"They were supposed to be a surprise for the plane," she quipped, frowning at him over her shoulder. "Why are you doing this? What have I done wrong?"
"You've done nothing wrong, unless you call possessing an incredibly spankable ass something wrong."
"Then why? I don't understand."
"Colleen, I don't need a reason," he declared as he began to slap her upturned cheeks. "I'm the boss. If I have a mind to spank you, I'll spank you."
"I can't believe you said that," she mumbled, his words sending a flood between her legs.
"As you have mentioned repeatedly. A few more, then we'll be ready to go.
No squealing."
Delivering a volley of rapid-fire smacks, he finished abruptly, and pulling down her skirt, he shifted her on to the couch next to him.
"That should set the tone for the trip. How do you feel?"
"Like my butt's just been spanked," she said breathlessly. "Ouch."
"Don't you have something to say?"
"I said it already. Ouch!"
"Don't pretend you don't know what I expect. Do I need to repeat the exercise?"
"Thanks, boss."
"Good girl," he purred, sliding his hands into her hair. Gripping tightly, he languidly kissed her, then pulled back and stared in her eyes. "Sparkling. I love to see that. Are you ready?"
"Definitely."
"I'll grab my jacket and briefcase and we'll head down to the garage."
"Don't you need to wait for Emily?"
"No. She's hand delivering some documents then headed home."
As she watched him stand up and march across to his desk, she felt her heart swell. She was falling head-over-heels in love.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Arriving at the private terminal, they were whisked from the car through a lavish lounge and out to the plane. Colleen had been on a private jet once before, but it didn't compare to the aircraft she boarded. It was a luxurious flying apartment, and when Tony led her into the bedroom she couldn't contain her excitement.
"This is absolutely incredible! I can't believe I'm here."
"Neither can I. This is something I've wanted to do for ages."
"You mean fly on this jet to London?"
"Not this jet specifically, but one like it. Luxurious, ridiculously expensive, and positively indulgent."
"Why haven't you?"
"I suppose," he said, lowering his voice and putting an arm around her waist, "I was waiting for this gorgeous redhead to walk into my life. What fun is a bed over the Atlantic by myself?"
"Good point."
"We're going to drink champagne, have a wonderful dinner, then come back here."
BOSS_His Wealth. His Power. His Demands. Page 12