BOSS_His Wealth. His Power. His Demands.

by Maggie Carpenter

  "What I find super scary is that he was living down the street from me, and he was in my home."

  "He'll have skipped town. I don't think we'll have to worry about him anymore."

  "I'm suddenly tired," she said, leaning back in her seat and letting out a long yawn.

  "After dinner you should lie down."

  "Will you join me and watch a movie?"

  "I have some business stuff I need to take care of, but when I'm done I'd like nothing better."

  The plane began to roll down the tarmac, and as they lifted off and gained altitude, Colleen watched the English coastline fall behind them.

  "I know we were only there for the blink of an eye, but it feels much longer. I'm exhausted, but I feel as if I can deal with everything now."

  "A change of environment can do wonders. When I was clawing my way up I'd often take off for a day or two."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Usually to a cabin at Blue Snake Lake. It would recharge my batteries. It still does. I'm glad you convinced me to attend that meeting. I hope there's a way I can be involved."

  A short time later they were enjoying a lamb dinner and sharing a bottle of Pinot Noir, but before the plates were even cleared, Colleen headed to the bedroom cabin. Tony wasn't surprised. She'd had the stress of her home being burgled, the excitement of the trip, and the remarkable meeting at Harrods. It was enough to drain anyone. It took him almost an hour to catch up with the needs of his office, and looking forward to having her in his arms, he walked into the bedroom cabin. He found her fully dressed and fast asleep. Quickly removing his clothes, he pulled off her shoes and slacks, then shifted her body to pull down the covers. She mumbled something, but didn't completely wake up, and turning out the light, he curled up against her.

  "When did you know you loved me?"

  Her softly murmured question surprised him, and he broke into a smile.

  "When I booked this plane. I never do extravagant things like this, and Emily said—she must be very special. That's when it hit me. What about you?"

  "When I first saw your picture in a magazine and read the interview, I fell in crush. When I met you I knew you were the one. Going back to sleep now."

  Tony pondered what she'd just told him. He remembered how drawn to her he'd been when they'd met. Maybe he'd been in love with her from day one as well, and it had just taken him longer to realize it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was warm. Almost too warm, and she was grateful for the spring shower that had sprinkled its soft rain to cool her off, but something was wrong with Tony. He was soaked too, and he was making odd noises, almost like a wounded animal.

  A pocket of turbulence interrupted her sleep, and Tony was making the sounds she'd heard in her dream. Assuming he was having a nightmare she rolled over to wake him, but abruptly pulled back. He was wet. Soaking wet. Switching on the small bedside lamp, she discovered he was drenched in sweat.

  "Tony," she gasped. "Oh, my God. Tony, wake up."

  "I'm already awake. Something's wrong with me. Everything's spinning."

  Urgently hitting the call button, she climbed from the bed and pulled on her slacks, then raced into the small powder room to soak a hand towel in cold water. She'd just started wiping down his face when Amy, the flight attendant, gently knocked and poked her head in.

  "You called."

  "He's sick, really sick."

  "Oh, no! Any idea what it could be?"

  "None. I woke up and found him like this. How soon will we be home?"

  "We're only an hour from the airport. I was about to turn up the lights. I'll make sure there's an ambulance waiting when we land."

  "No! No! No hospitals," Tony stammered. "Call Emily. She'll reach my doctor."

  "Amy, is it okay to use my cell phone?"

  "Since this is an emergency, yes. Just keep it short if you can, but give me a minute to alert the pilot."

  As the flight attendant left, Colleen turned her attention back to Tony and continued mopping his forehead.

  "You're so pale. Are you sure you don't want an ambulance?"

  "The only way I'll end up in a hospital is if I'm unconscious and can't stop it from happening."

  "Has this ever happened before?"

  "Never. I'm so dizzy. Shit. I'm going to throw up. Move. I need to get to the bathroom. Fuck. What's wrong with me?"

  The tiny bathroom was only a few steps away, and steadying himself against the wall, he staggered inside and closed the door.

  "Where the hell did I put my phone?" Colleen muttered. "Ah, my bag. I never took it out."

  Quickly returning to the main cabin, she found Amy on her way back from the cockpit.

  "You can make that call now," she said. "How is he feeling?"

  "Bad. He keeps talking about feeling dizzy. He's in the bathroom throwing up."

  "I have some Dramamine. That might help his nausea. I'll leave it on the bedside table."

  Wondering if he was suffering from food poisoning, Colleen dropped into a seat and placed the call to Tony's office.

  "Tony McIntyre's office. Emily speaking. May I help you?"

  "Emily, it's Colleen. We're still on the plane, but Tony's sick, really sick. We'll be landing in less than an hour. Can you reach his doctor and have him meet us at the house?"

  "Oh, dear, yes of course. What's the matter with him?"

  "He's spinning out. He can hardly stand up. I was thinking it might be food poisoning, but we had the same meal and I'm fine."

  "I'll find Dr. Sullivan. Let me know when you land."

  "Thank you."

  Ending the call, Colleen returned her phone to her bag and closed her eyes.

  "Please, dear God, please let him be all right."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Though Colleen was nervous about Tony taking any medication before being seen by his doctor, he downed two Dramamine tablets. When the plane landed forty-five minutes later, she thought he looked a tad better, but the pills had made him groggy. The pilot helped him into the waiting car, and as they left the airfield she called Emily and told her they were on their way home.

  "I'll let Dr. Sullivan know. He's waiting for my call. You'll probably get there about the same time."

  "Thanks, Emily. Do you have Frank's number? I'd like to let him know what's happening."

  "Of course. I'll text it to you. Please tell Tony I'm thinking about him."

  "Of course. Bye."

  "Bye."

  Tony had leaned his head back, his eyes were closed, and he still looked pale, but he didn't appear to be in as much distress as he had been on the plane.

  "We'll be home soon. Don't worry. Your doctor will be there and he'll take care of you."

  "Love you, cutie pie," he mumbled. "Sorry about this."

  "I love you too, and you have nothing to be sorry for."

  Colleen's phone beeped. Emily's text had arrived with Frank's number, but when Colleen called, his voice mail answered.

  "Frank, it's Colleen. Tony and I are on our way to the house. I thought you'd like to know that Tony's pretty sick."

  "Tell him about the meeting today," Tony muttered. "I want him to come."

  "Tony said to tell you there's a meeting with Senator Hansen today and he wants you there. Call me when you get this," she finished, and ending the call, she looked solemnly at Tony. "I doubt you'll be going to any meeting."

  "I'm not feeling as bad as I was."

  "We'll see what the doctor says," she replied diplomatically.

  The drive seemed to take forever, and when they finally approached the driveway, she saw a black Mercedes waiting at the gates. Punching the security code into her phone, they swung open, and the two cars rolled to a stop in front of the house.

  "Hi. I'm Doctor Sullivan," an attractive middle-aged man said, poking his head in as the driver opened the back door. "Please call me Paul."

  "Hi, Paul. I'm Colleen. Tony's really dizzy, but he took a couple of Dramamine on the plane a
bout an hour ago. They seemed to have helped, but they've also made him sleepy."

  "Whatever it is, you need to wave your stethoscope and make me better," Tony managed, looking at him bleary-eyed.

  "I'll see what I can do. Let's get you out of the car."

  Tony was unsteady on his feet, but they were able to get him inside and into one of the downstairs guest rooms. As he fell on the bed, Colleen stood nervously by while the doctor shone a light into his eyes.

  "Uh-huh. Don't worry. This isn't serious."

  "You know that already?" Colleen asked, trying to hide her skepticism.

  "I do."

  "But he was really bad on the plane. He kept saying everything was spinning."

  "What's wrong with me, Paul? I've never felt as sick as I was on that flight."

  "You have a condition called BPPV. That's short for Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. You were basically seasick. That's why the Dramamine helped. It's a common condition and often misdiagnosed. People think they have a stomach bug or food poisoning."

  "How did I get it?"

  "It's an inner ear imbalance. Tiny crystals form and upset your equilibrium, though it's still a bit of a mystery. The first attack is usually the most severe."

  "No shit," Tony muttered. "How long with it last?"

  "It varies. Sometimes a day, sometimes a week, but there are ways to alleviate the symptoms. I'm going to help you with that right now, though I can't do anything about the effects of the Dramamine. You'll have to sleep that off."

  "They should sell them as sleeping pills."

  "I need you to swing around so your head is at the foot of the bed."

  "Please don't say things like, swing around."

  "Sorry. Move slowly and lie on your back. I'm going to move your head from side to side. At first you'll have severe dizziness, but it will pass quickly and you'll feel much better."

  Colleen felt the relief flood her body, and as she watched Paul work his magic, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. A few minutes later Tony was sitting up staring at his doctor in awe.

  "That's amazing. The weird spinning is completely gone. I feel fine. Drugged, but fine."

  "Now I'm going to show you what to do by yourself when it recurs."

  "I'll get it again?"

  "Probably. Some people go for months, even years between attacks, but others, just a few weeks. Sit on the edge of the bed. Now I want you to slowly lay down on one side. That's it. Wait until the spinning stops, then sit up. Again, wait until the spinning stops, then lay down on the other side. Do it until there's no dizziness. When you're experiencing the spinout, breathe through it. Dramamine will help, but take just half a pill. That will keep your stomach settled, but won't make you drowsy."

  "Paul, I owe you. Thank you," Tony said gratefully. "I have an important meeting this afternoon. I cut the trip short so I could be there. Do you think I can go?"

  "Have someone drive you, but you should be fine. Right now you need to sleep off the drug, and you know what to do if you wake up and feel giddy again. There's a lot of information online. Just put the initials BPPV into a search engine."

  "You're the best," Tony said, rising to his feet. "You're right. I need to sleep."

  "I'll make sure you're not disturbed," Colleen promised, "and I'll bring Emily up to speed."

  "Thanks, hon. You've been great."

  "I didn't do anything."

  "Yeah, you did. I'll see you on the other side. I'm off to bed."

  As Tony made his way down the hall and up the stairs, Colleen walked Paul to the door. Hugging him gratefully, she stood and watched him drive away, then walked into the kitchen. She needed a cup of tea and something to eat, but as she entered she came to an abrupt halt.

  Something was wrong.

  Dirty plates were piled up next to the sink. Her pulse kicking up, she cast her eyes across to the counter near the refrigerator. Half-a-dozen empty beer bottles were evidence someone besides the housekeeper had been in the house. Then it dawned on her that it was Wednesday. Tony had said Rosemary came on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

  "Well, well, well. Who do we have here?"

  The male voice had come from behind her, and spinning around she stared into the face of her former neighbor—the man who had burgled her house. The serial killer!

  Tony had been right. With chiseled features, longish sandy blonde hair and a toothpaste commercial smile, Scott was frighteningly handsome. But she could see the icy evil in his eyes.

  "Scream and I'll slice your throat," he growled, lifting his hand and showing her a long, gleaming switchblade. "Do you understand what I just told you?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Before I deal with your lover boy upstairs, you and I are going to have some fun, then you're going to tell me where I can find that bitch who betrayed me. If you behave I might let you live."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Colleen was only a few steps from the door that led into the small apartment. It had a living room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. The bathroom would have a lock and a window.

  Scott would have to move around the kitchen island to reach her. She was sure she'd make it through the door before he could, but before she made the move she wanted to do something that would slow him down.

  There were several bottles of wine on the counter by her elbow. She'd been a star pitcher in high-school years before. She wasn't sure how well she could still throw, but it was the only shot she had. Taking a quick breath, she grabbed the neck of the closest bottle and hurled it at his chest, but her throw went high.

  He tried to duck.

  He failed.

  It smashed into his face.

  She hadn't stopped to see if she'd been on target, but she'd heard his wail. As she darted into the apartment and turned to close the door, she glanced across the kitchen. It was a gruesome sight. His face was cut up and bloody, and he was splattered with red wine.

  Hurriedly slamming the door shut, she noticed the doorknob had a push-in button. Pressing it with her thumb, she raced into the bedroom, and though that door had no lock, she managed to move a small chest of drawers against it. She could hear him banging, and bolting into the bathroom, she frantically pulled her phone from her pocket and called Frank. His voicemail answered. Desperately she ended the call and texted him. Sometimes she didn't pick up her phone either, but if she could, she'd read a text.

  SOS. It's Colleen. I'm at the house locked in the apartment bathroom off the kitchen. Scott's after me with a knife. Tony's upstairs asleep. Calling 911. Hurry.

  As she hit the icon for emergency services, a loud crash made her jump. Scott had made it through the door from the kitchen.

  "911. What is your emergency?"

  "I'm at 1770 Birdview. I'm locked in a bathroom. There's a man chasing me with a knife. My boyfriend is in the house but he's sick upstairs in his bedroom."

  "And your name?"

  "Colleen O'Connell. Hurry."

  "Sending units now. Stay on the phone with me. Are you hurt?"

  "No, no, but now he's on the other side of the door trying the handle. You'll be too late."

  "You fucked up big time, bitch," Scott yelled. "Now you're gonna die, but I'm gonna cut your face first, just like you cut mine."

  Dropping the phone on the bathroom counter, she frantically turned her attention to the window. To her great dismay she discovered it opened only a few inches. She needed a weapon. Something she could use to defend herself. Urgently opening the cabinet under the sink, she found a can of foam bathroom cleaner. Pressing the button on the top, a blue stream squirted from the nozzle. It wasn't mace, but it was something, and she turned around to face the door.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  When Tony had walked wearily into his bedroom, he'd been surprised to find the bed unmade. Rosemary had been told he wouldn't be back until Friday. It was Wednesday. She should be there. Had she decided to take advantage of his absence? But even as the thought floated through his fogg
y head, he knew his bed had been made when he and Colleen had left the house. Flopping on the edge of the mattress, he picked up his landline and called his housekeeper.

  "Hello, Mr. McIntyre. Are you back?"

  "Yes, Rosemary, but why aren't you here?"

  "The decorator told me to leave."

  "Decorator? What decorator?"

  "He was there when I arrived this morning. He said he needed the house to himself. What a handsome young man, and so polite. Did I make a mistake, Mr. McIntyre? Should I have stayed?"

  "No, no, but tell me, what did he look like?"

  "Like I said, handsome. He was tall, blondish hair and blue eyes, and such a smile. Haven't you met him?"

  "Rosemary, I'm very glad you left. He was no decorator. I think he was here to rob me. I need to look around and see what's missing."

  "Oh, my goodness. Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, Mr. McIntyre, I had no idea."

  "Of course you didn't. Perhaps when you showed up it scared him and he left. Did you notice a car in the motor court?"

  "Now that you mention it, no, but I didn't think about it at the time."

  "Not to worry. I'll see you on Friday."

  "Should I come tomorrow? I don't mind."

  "That would be great. Thanks, Rosemary."

  "Bye, then."

  "Bye."

  Replacing the receiver, he rose to his feet and walked into the bathroom. It was a mess. There were towels on the floor, and his various toiletries were scattered across the counter. Somehow Scott had managed to get into the house and had stayed overnight. Though Tony desperately wanted to crawl into bed, he needed to see the rest of the house, but as he headed towards the door his cell phone rang. It was Frank.

  "Hi, Frank."

  "Tony. Thank God. Are you okay? How's Colleen?"

  "She's fine. I'm okay. I've got some weird vertigo thing, but Scott's been here. He—"

  "Tony! He's still there!" Frank interjected. "I just got a text from Colleen. Scott's after her with a knife. She's locked herself in the downstairs bathroom and called the police…Tony are you there…?"