“No, don’t tell her to come. The house is clean and picked up. I was just wondering.”
Felipe nodded.
“There are lots of fruits and vegetables left over from the hurricane. Take as much as you want for your family and friends,” Nick said.
“Gracias,” Felipe said, thanking him.
The two of them worked most of the morning hauling big bags of fallen fruit and vegetables to Felipe’s truck. Nick had just handed Felipe the last one to load, when he heard a scream that sounded like “Nooo!” coming from behind him.
He swiveled around and caught sight of Ronnie on the front porch. His heart in his throat, he sprinted to the house and bounded up the steps.
Slumped against the wall, Ronnie clutched her cell phone to her heart. “Oh God, oh God,” she repeated tremulously, her cell phone slipping from her hands.
Nick caught the phone in time and slid it into his shorts’ pocket. “What’s wrong?” He raised her chin with his thumb and saw all the color had drained from her face, leaving it alarmingly pale. Seconds ticked by like hours as he waited for her to form words through trembling lips.
“Slinky is gone.”
The wide-eyed shock in her eyes shook him to the core. “Who is Slinky?”
Veronique swallowed a few times before she spoke. “She was my cat…my baby,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.
He squeezed her shoulders gently and peered into her eyes, jolted by how eerie they looked. Why was she so frightened?
“Did she run away?” he asked gently.
“No. She’s dead. Gone forever.” Her raw voice sounded so despondent it tore at his heart.
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he said, putting his arm around her bent shoulders.
Her head hung forward as she wrung her hands. “I never had a pet before her. Maman said animals were dirty and wouldn’t let them in the house,” she said in a small voice. “I always wanted a pet, but it was impossible with all the traveling.”
He heard the pain in her heart and wished he could make it vanish.
“Slinky was everything I’d ever dreamed of. A fluffy white ragdoll kitty who stole my heart the minute I laid eyes on her.” She gazed at him with desperate, stricken eyes. “It’s my fault she died. I wasn’t there to protect her.”
Nick’s brows snapped together. He hadn’t expected her to say that. Sadness over the loss of her pet was understandable, but guilt?
“Your fault? That’s nonsense. How did you find out?”
“I finally got through to Natasha.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging them in small circles.
“What did she say?” He rubbed the length of her spine with gentle, soothing strokes.
She stared at him as if in a trance, her eyes hazy and wide with shock. “I can’t bear to say it out loud.”
From afar, Nick caught sight of Felipe’s alarmed look and upturned hands. He shook his head and waved him away.
Turning his attention back to Ronnie, he said, “Let’s go inside.” He kept his arm around her quaking shoulders as he led her into the house and shut the door. “Now, tell me what Natasha said.”
“Somebody killed Slinky. It was sick, cruel…” Her voice broke and she looked close to passing out. “I can’t wrap my head around that kind of viciousness.”
Black fury formed a block of cement in his chest at the thought of anyone harming her. He cradled her to him, troubled by how fragile and broken she felt in his arms, as if she might fall apart at any moment. “Breathe slowly and try to calm your heart rate,” he murmured against her temple.
Veronique leaned her forehead on his shoulder and drew in harrowing breaths.
After a few moments, he said, “Okay, honey. Try to tell me what happened.”
She heaved a ragged sigh and looked up at him helplessly. “Slinky died of a broken neck. Snapped in two.”
“How did it happen?”
“The vet thinks she was strangled.” She turned her face into his chest and moaned.
Nick’s gut constricted. Who in holy hell would strangle a cat? An icy stab of alarm made him pull her closer, securely sheltering her in his arms.
“I’m sorry, baby. If it wasn’t for this damn hurricane I’d buy you a kitten.” Instead of comforting her, his words unleashed a torrent of sobs. He held her tight, patted her back and let her cry it out as he struggled with mounting impatience. He knew she needed to calm down before she could continue, but a sick feeling crawled under his skin when he contemplated the reasons anyone would strangle her cat. There was a clear threat there.
After several hiccupping snuffles, she said, “Slinky was a starving kitten when I rescued her last winter. She had gotten separated from her mother during a snowstorm. This may sound stupid, but sometimes it felt like she was the only family I had.” Her voice quavered with sorrow. “I loved her so much.”
“I’m sure you did,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head.
She clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as she sighed heavily. A few moments later, she wiped her eyes and touched his wet chest. “I’m sorry. I need a tissue badly.”
“It’s okay.” Nick kissed her forehead and released her. “Be right back.”
Veronique wiped her eyes and took calming breaths as she watched Nick’s retreating back. Dread mushroomed inside of her, adding to her misery. She was grateful for his kindness, and touched when he’d kissed her forehead so tenderly, but she wasn’t ready to disclose details of her investigation and its possible link to Slinky’s death.
She sank down on the sofa with her head in her hands. This was awful. Natasha had barely gotten the words out about Slinky before bursting into tears. She felt bad for Tash and was worried about her safety. She’d told her to leave the studio apartment immediately and be extra cautious about watching her back.
Nick returned with a box of tissues and joined her on the couch. He handed her a tissue and patted her knee.
“Thanks.” Veronique dried her eyes and blew her nose.
“Tell me everything Natasha said. Start from the beginning,” he said in a compelling tone.
Veronique got up and paced the room. She didn’t feel like repeating everything, but Nick was concerned. He deserved to know. “She said she got home late and found Slinky lying lifelessly on the floor.”
Nick’s face was stone hard as he watched her. She had to look away to pull herself together.
“Ronnie.” The tension in his voice drew her attention back to him. “Was there any sign of a break-in?”
“I don’t know. I was too upset to think of asking.”
“Did they steal anything?”
“I’m not sure. I feel like an idiot.” Her mouth twisted with self-deprecation. “Some reporter I am. Something horrible happens and I don’t even ask the right questions.”
“You were in shock,” he told her kindly.
Veronique nodded and took a deep breath. “Natasha didn’t mention how they got in or if they took anything of value. She said everything looked untouched…except for Slinky.” She stopped before him and put her closed fist against her mouth, wishing she didn’t have to continue.
“What else did she say?”
“There was a note left behind.”
Nick’s dark brows furrowed over narrowed eyes. “What was on it?”
Veronique cringed inwardly as she forced her voice to sound steady. “It said, ‘you’re next.” A fine sheen of cold sweat made her shiver and rub her arms.
Nick shot up and took hold of her elbow. “Ronnie, you need to come clean with me. What’s going on?” he demanded. His tone was taut with restraint and she wondered at what point he’d lose patience.
“Okay, just don’t get your shorts in a bunch when I tell you.” Veronique took a deep breath and expelled it forcefully. “Somebody fired a shot at me in a Miami hotel parking lot on the morning before I drove over here.”
He froze. “What! Are you
telling me a sniper almost hit you?”
Veronique pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes briefly. “Yeah.”
“Did you call the police?” Nick demanded.
“Of course. I spent over two hours at the station, but in the end they weren’t much help. They told me to be extra careful and report any other threat to my safety.”
“That’s it?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, that was the extent of it.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Since when do Miami police take a sniper lightly?” He stared at her with questioning eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “Random shootings happen in a big, cosmopolitan city like Miami.”
“That wasn’t random. Who is targeting you?” His unwavering gaze held her rooted to the spot.
“I’m not sure,” she hedged.
“You’re not sure? That means you have an idea,” he said, his gaze so forceful she averted her eyes and resumed pacing.
“Look at me.”
A quiet command in a strained voice. Veronique stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to meet his eyes. It was hard not to squirm under his piercing gaze. Blue fire blazed in his eyes as he caught her chin and pinned her with a gripping look.
“Ronnie.”
“I need to get back to New York today.” She hated to leave him, but given this new development, she had to.
“Hell no. You’re not leaving,” he said emphatically.
Hope blossomed at the change in him, despite the dire circumstances. When she’d first shown up, Nick had wanted to get rid of her ASAP and now he wouldn’t let her leave. If it hadn’t been for Slinky’s murder, she’d have been ecstatic.
“You’re asking me not to go?”
“Damn right. I’m telling you not to,” he said tersely.
She met his gaze and her heartbeat faltered the moment she saw his face was set in grave lines. His eyes glittered with suspicion and his shadowed jaw ticked rhythmically as he stared at her for a long, long time.
“It’s obvious you’re a target. Are you investigating someone who might want to harm you?” he asked.
She shook her head and averted her gaze again. She couldn’t meet his probing eyes, not when she was keeping information from him. Nervous tension coiled inside her, making her nauseated and jittery. She hated lying to Nick by omission, but she had to. She couldn’t divulge anything about what she was investigating until she had the final piece of solid evidence.
“You better not be lying to me.” He drew in a heavy sigh and shook his head. “We’ll discuss this later when you’re feeling better,” he said and walked out, his stride measured.
Chapter Seventeen
Veronique flinched at his departing tone. It felt wrong not to come clean with Nick, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. Not yet.
She hugged herself, heartened that she and Nick had reached a new level of intimacy. She still couldn’t believe it. All these years she’d thought about him, yearning to connect as an adult, but never finding the right moment. When her career had taken off as a news reporter, she’d planned on seeking him out, but it was too late by then. He was already engaged to Elizabeth. Fred had broken the news to her gently, knowing her devotion to all things Nick. She’d followed his career with such pride, hoping someday she’d get a chance to tell him so.
Last night while he hadn’t told her he loved her back, he had made exquisite love to her. She would take that. He’d also been incredibly open about his childhood traumas and the deep-rooted shame of having a brutal, alcoholic father. She’d felt humbled and closer to him than ever. Hearing the anguish in his voice, she had desperately wanted to wipe away his traumatic childhood. He’d needed to expose the ugly part of his background, to see if she’d still be around in the morning. Little did he know how much she adored him. The protective, compassionate side of Nick made him all the more heroic and she loved him madly for it.
To lift her spirits she allowed herself a dream. Someday, somehow, they’d have a family of their own. He would make an awesome dad—one that his kids would adore and be proud of. She would hold onto that dream for some sort of consolation.
She still couldn’t believe or accept the awful news about Slinky. Her heart constricted in a vise of misery over her sweet kitty’s slaying, especially since there was nothing she could do about it. It was final—and so unfair. She wouldn’t be able to get another pet, especially if she didn’t know where she’d be in the next six months.
She’d probably never deliver the story on Nick she’d hoped would revive her career. She wouldn’t unless Nick was in agreement, which was a stretch at best. After he’d bared his soul to her last night, revealing his difficult childhood dealing with an abusive, drunk father and how ferociously he’d tried to protect his mom and sister, she respected his right to privacy. Out of allegiance to him, she’d fervently wanted to tell his side of the story, but she’d never do anything to hurt him. Ever.
Her life would never be the same. She suddenly craved having a home with Nick, having his baby and another kitty like Slinky. She wanted all of those things so badly it scared her. Why did it have to feel impossible and unattainable? Because you want Nick, she told herself morosely. She shouldn’t have told him that she didn’t care if they ever got married. She’d only said it so he would stop trying to push her away emotionally. Their physical connection was so in sync it made her ecstatic.
What would it take for him to hold her dear to his heart, to believe he couldn’t live without her? That’s how she felt about him. In spite of his rigid control and initial demands to be left alone, it hadn’t crushed his inherent warmth. Nick was a hot-blooded, generous lover and she couldn’t bear to imagine going back to their previous impasse. She couldn’t allow him to retreat to his reclusive life before he had a chance to fall in love with her. She loved him, but she had no idea if his desire for her would turn into love. She might never find out if she left. It was too disheartening to consider.
The need to wrap up her investigation ASAP was so pressing her hands shook with impatience as she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out the files at the bottom. Studying the stark evidence in front of her renewed her determination to expose Elizabeth Remington’s illegal dealings. After the trial, Nick’s partner, Zack, had been convicted to two years in the federal penitentiary, but Elizabeth had escaped unscathed. Justice had been served when Nick was exonerated from the charges, but not his ex-wife—she was guilty as all hell. Veronique was sure of it.
She had started investigating Elizabeth when the trial ended. She’d flown to Nick’s home state of North Carolina and interviewed two high schools funded through his foundation. Both were success stories, rich in funds for the arts and computer sciences, and bourgeoning with sports programs.
But the third school funded by the foundation in Haiti was a disaster. The École des Jeunes Travailleurs, which translated to School of Young Laborers, was impoverished with tattered books, virtually no school supplies, substandard food and no computer literacy programs. The principal, Pierre Morais, was thankful for the little they’d received, but clearly he hadn’t gotten enough money to fulfill the original development plan after the initial deposit from the Cameron Hope Foundation. When she mentioned the scholarship recipients, he acted surprised and said it was the first he’d heard of any scholarships. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Disgusted, she’d turned away, not wanting to reveal her suspicion of corruption until she had sufficient evidence.
Digging deeper, Veronique discovered that an offshore trust company in Grand Cayman handled funding for the non-U.S. activities of the Cameron Hope Foundation. At first no one in the firm would meet with her, let alone answer her questions, until one of the assistants, a twenty-two-year-old girl named Maya, contacted her to meet at the hotel. Maya told her she was quitting her job and moving to the U.S. to marry a Marine. She wanted to set the record straight that she’d had no in
volvement in Elizabeth’s dealings, that she’d only seen records of money going into an account in Macau—China of all places. On the condition of anonymity, she’d handed over a paper trail of PDF documents and money transfers from Grand Cayman to Macau.
Veronique had a file full of evidence that a big part of the money supposedly going to École des Jeunes Travailleurs in Haiti was going through Grand Cayman, and through a cleverly designed arrangement, was being fraudulently funneled onto Macau. She had copies of bogus invoices, sub-account bank statements corresponding to École des Jeunes Travailleurs and copies of transfer confirmations to Alfa Bank of Macau.
She just needed the original payment instructions signed by Elizabeth authorizing the trust company to execute the monthly transfers. Veronique couldn’t wait to get her hands on the documents from Maya.
Anxious to get everything tied up and share the information with Nick, she dialed Maya’s number from her personal cell phone, not her work one, but the call went straight to voicemail. Preferring not to leave a message, she tried again several times.
When someone finally answered in the late afternoon, she was surprised to hear a male voice.
“May I speak to Maya?” she asked, deepening her voice.
“She’s not here.” The man’s tone was curt and his island accent heavy.
“Who am I speaking with?”
“This is Will, Maya’s brother. Who’s this?” He sounded suspicious.
“It’s Veronique, a friend of hers. When do you expect Maya to return?”
“I dunno. She left Grand Cayman three days ago and hasn’t been in touch.” His voice sounded strained.
A tremor of unease made her grip the phone tightly. Maya had told her she’d leave for the States in a week. Something—or someone—must have compelled her to leave earlier.
“Have you spoken to her in the past three days?” Will asked, bringing Veronique back to the present.
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