“Thank you.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back in his arms for another kiss before letting her go. He followed her through the store to her car and waved as she drove away.
Ken hopped in his SUV and headed home. Once there, he started his computer and opened the program. The map of the world popped up. He clicked on North America, then California, and finally L.A. The signal from the GPS transmitter on Sean’s car showed as a red dot on the screen. One click of a button and the two-dimensional map was superimposed on a Google map of the same area. Grinning, Ken located Sean. He was outside a bank in downtown L.A.
“Thank you, Sly.” Ken vowed to give the young man a fat bonus.
Next, he clicked on another button. The history data of where Sean had been the past twenty-four hours popped up. Two hours ago, he’d visited a different bank and stayed for over an hour. Interesting. Yesterday, he picked up his car from the airport and went straight to Galen Towers, the headquarters of Fritz Corp, the parent company of all the Fitzgerald family holdings. Had he visited Faith’s aunt? Ken was tempted to pay the woman a visit too and show her proof of what Sean had done to Faith just to see the guilt on her face. Despite the tantalizing thought, he knew Faith wouldn’t approve. Until she had his ring on her finger, he would stay away from her mean old aunt.
He checked the time Sean arrived at his present location. Twenty minutes ago. Going by how long he was at the previous bank, he might be there for at least an hour, which gave Ken enough time to catch up with him.
Grinning, Ken dashed upstairs, changed out of the khaki pants, the fancy sweater, and dressy shoes he’d worn to placate his mother, and into his normal clothes—jeans and boots. He grabbed his coat and ran back downstairs.
The red dot hadn’t moved. He searched through his secret stash of gadgets for concealable transmitters. As a rule, none of his people went on a job without one of these babies hidden somewhere on their clothing. He hid one inside a fake button on his coat and under the sole of his boot. Next he logged into his e-mail account, composed several messages, and sent them off. He grabbed his laptop headed out the door. He had to ditch his car for the surveillance van.
***
Faith debated whether to head straight to Galen Tower and throw herself at her aunt’s mercy or wait until after Thanksgiving dinner. Asking Aunt Viv to bail her out financially went against everything she believed in, but she had no choice. The last possible sponsor had given her the same response as the ones she spoke with yesterday, the meeting not lasting long.
Sighing, Faith gunned her engine and headed toward the nearest county court office. After picking up the restraining order forms, she decided to stop by her store first before heading to her aunt’s office.
Like yesterday, her store was busy. The money coming in was great, but it couldn’t cover her show. She’d also done something some might consider unorthodox. She’d sent a thank-you gourmet gift basket to the reporter who wrote the article about her. Hopefully, the gesture wouldn’t come back and bite her.
“A Mr. Weinstein called twice,” Lori said, following Faith into her office. “He wants you to call him back a.s.a.p.”
Faith frowned. “Thanks, hun.”
“It’s almost noon,” Lori reminded.
“I know. Let me make this one call then you can leave. Are you two going somewhere special this afternoon?”
“No, just driving to Sonoma. I told Albert about Aunt Viv’s horses, and so he wants us to go early and sightsee on horseback.” She made a face. “Aunt Viv said it was okay. You’re coming in tonight too?”
“Tomorrow. We’ll leave here in the morning.”
“We?”
“Ken is coming too.” Her cousin’s eyes widened with interest. To avoid answering unnecessary questions, Faith removed her cell phone from her purse, found the banker’s number, and punched it in. When she looked up, Lori had already left the room.
“Mr. Weinstein, please,” Faith said when the phone was picked up on the other side.
“Ms. Fitzgerald. I’m happy you returned my call before I left for the day,” the banker said when he came on the line.
“I thought we agreed that we would discuss my account next week, Mr. Weinstein.”
“There’s no need to discuss anything, Ms. Fitzgerald. We received a court order to unfreeze your account.”
Her heart stopped then picked up tempo. “What…when?”
“We got a call from GGC this morning. You now have access to your money. I thought you might want to know. Have a happy Thanksgiving, Ms. Fitzgerald.”
“You too, Mr. Weinstein.” Faith’s hand shook as she placed the phone down.
What did this mean? Was GGC sponsoring her again? They must have seen the article about her and realized she was worth the investment. Yes! She punched the air.
No, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Better hear the truth from the horse’s mouth. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed GGC’s number. The woman who picked up the phone connected her to their legal department.
“I got a call from my bank that you unfroze my account,” Faith said, her voice slightly unsteady.
“That’s correct, Ms. Fitzgerald.”
She recognized the voice of the sour-faced lawyer from their last meeting. “Does this mean you’re sponsoring me?”
“No, Ms. Fitzgerald. It means someone paid off the money you owed us. Whether you do the show in New York is really up to—”
“Who paid it off?”
“I’m not at liberty to give out that information. Good luck, Ms. Fitzgerald. Have a happy Thanksgiving.” The line went dead.
She was too happy to feel insulted by the man’s rudeness. She needed to call Ken and share the good news. No, that wasn’t necessary. They were having lunch in an hour. She would tell him then and tonight, they’d celebrate. Maybe they would fly to the Bahamas after Thanksgiving and extend the celebration.
Grinning at her thoughts, she turned on her computer and logged into her bank account to confirm what the banker had told her. Her eyes filled with tears of relief. Business can wait. There was absolutely nothing wrong with sharing her news with the man she loved.
Why had she fought falling in love with Ken? Refused to acknowledge it these past few days? She loved Kenneth Lambert with every fiber in her body, every breath she took.
She speed-dialed his number. The call went straight to his voicemail. “Hey, baby. Call me. I’ve some amazing news to share.”
Next, she made several calls to New York. Marc was relieved to hear from her. She could now cash the check Faith had left behind. The production company doing her show also did parties and knew which venues were still available during Fashion Week. They were happy to be in charge of her party. Her party. She liked the sound of that. Finally, she pulled out the file on the stylist she’d interviewed weeks ago—Jennifer Larson. Hopefully, she was still available.
Faith called and gave her the news—she was hired. Faith set up a meeting for the two of them to sit down and talk.
Done, Faith leaned back against her chair and exhaled. Oh, that felt good. Once again, she dialed Ken’s number. It went unanswered. What was he doing that he couldn’t pick up his phone?
Something else occurred to her. She was so busy making calls she completely forgot to confirm the identity of her benefactor. Who could have paid off the hundred grand at such short notice? Her aunt? Other than Ashley, no one in her family had known about her financial woes. Should she call her aunt and thank her? No, drive down to Galen Towers and thank her in person. It was the right thing to do.
Faith called her aunt’s driver and confirmed she was still in the office, then she went in search of her cousin. There were a few browsers, but Lori already had her purse and car keys.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She hugged Lori. “Come back before you go back to school and choose something.”
Lori grinned. “No, that’s okay. We enjoyed helping you out, and I’m coming to your show and…party.”
“Okay.” She glanced at Albert. “You were amazing with the customers. If you ever need a summer job, give me a call.”
“I might just do that, Ms. Fitzgerald.” He grabbed Lori’s hand. “We’ll see you later.” The two raced outside, where her cousin’s car was parked.
Faith told the remaining customers the store was closing, waited until they left, then turned off the lights. The seamstresses already put away the gowns they’d been working on and were cleaning up their workstations when she entered the sewing room. She’d already explained to them about Deidre and the stolen designs, redoing jackets for the show, and the crazy schedule they’d keep in the coming months. The extra hours didn’t bother them because that meant extra money. Now that she could afford to pay them, Faith didn’t mind either.
Driving downtown, Faith planned her speech to her aunt. She would start with an apology for turning her down yesterday then explain how she planned to pay back every cent in the next several years. Before entering the building, she tried calling Ken again. Once again, the phone went unanswered.
***
The first time his cell phone vibrated, Ken was entering Sean’s building with his laptop in a sturdy gift bag and a clipboard clasped under his arm. His surveillance van, now a ‘delivery van’ with a big logo, was parked in front for all to see, including the building’s security. He ignored the cell phone and smiled at the guards, the rim of his baseball cap pulled low and his body angled so the security cameras couldn’t capture his face.
“Delivery for a Mr. O’Neal,” Ken said, keeping his voice upbeat.
The burly guard didn’t glance up from the game show on the TV screen. “Leave it here.”
“I need his signature.” Ken had followed Sean back to the building and knew he was inside somewhere.
The guard pointed toward the elevators. “Second floor, turn left.”
“Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
The man grunted a response.
Ken continued toward the elevators, still working the angle, so his face wasn’t visible to the surveillance cameras. Before he pressed the button, he put on latex gloves. Upstairs, lights were on in the DHS offices, the door unlocked. Ken slipped inside, careful not to make any noise.
The reception area had several doors, but the rooms behind them were shrouded in darkness. A wide hallway on the right had lights sconces on the wall highlighting framed pictures of dresses. The door at the end of the hallway stood ajar.
Ken moved stealthily toward it, his grip firm on the bag. The sound of a glass breaking came from inside the room, causing him to freeze. There was nowhere to hide, so he pressed his back against the wall and kept his eyes on the door ahead. Any moment, he expected whoever was behind the door to yank it open and bust him.
His cell chose that moment to vibrate again. Damn it. He couldn’t turn it off because of the GPS transmitter inside it.
“No, don’t,” a voice Ken recognized as Sean’s yelled. “I’ll take care of things this time.”
Ken moved closer, his head cocked to catch the response of whoever Sean was talking to.
“She turned her aunt against me with lies. What did you tell them when they came to your house? Nothing? Are you sure? She has proof the two of us worked together,” he snapped. “How did she get it?”
He must be talking about Faith, Ken concluded, and from the one-sided conversation, he was on the phone with Deidre. Ken inched forward.
“Are you sure that’s all?” Silence followed then. “Fine.” More silence. “I can’t send you money now, baby. You’re not listening,” he whined. “Vivian is not sponsoring me anymore. I have to get loans to cover the show in New York.”
Faith’s ‘talk’ with her aunt must have been something if the old bird dropped pin-head. Slowly, Ken placed the bag with his laptop by the door, which was now an arm-length away.
“I promise to send you something soon. Oh yes, if I can’t have a show, then I’ll make sure she doesn’t either. No, not your friends. I’ve had enough of their violence. Leave everything to me. I promise I’ll take care of Faith.”
Rage slammed though Ken. He pushed the door wide open and stepped inside the room. “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you, O’Neal.”
“Call the police,” he yelled into the phone.
“Yes, Deidre. Go ahead and call the cops,” Ken urged in a carrying voice.
“What do you want?” Sean took a step back, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape route, his fingers busy pressing on the phone keys.
“To talk, so put the phone down.”
Sean started to lift the phone to his ear, but Ken threw a punch and knocked it, the punch grazing Sean’s jaw as well. He staggered backward, his hand going to his face.
“You attacked me,” he cried out, sounding outraged and whiny at the same time.
“Shut up and sit down, O’Neal. If I punched you, you wouldn’t be talking.”
Sean lunged for the phone on his desk. Ken grabbed him by the collar, yanked him backwards and into the nearest chair then pulled the phone from the wall socket.
“I’ll sue you for this,” Sean vowed.
“For what?” He threw the phone on a chair. “Your door was open and I walked in, so I haven’t broken any laws…yet.” But he was about to.
Keeping an eye on Sean, Ken went back for his bag and closed the door. Then he looked around the opulently decorated room for something he could use to tie up Sean. He didn’t want the man attempting an escape before he was done.
“Security will be here soon,” Sean warned.
Watching him from the corner of his eyes, Ken continued to open drawers. “Good. If you haven’t realized it yet, you’re the scumbag here and I’m the good guy. In fact, I can make a citizen’s arrest and get a medal for it. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he added when Sean shifted as though to get up. “In the mood I’m in, I’d hurt you and enjoy every second of it.”
“Barbarian,” Sean spat out.
Ken smirked. “Yeah, and you are the civilized one. Like I said, I’m here to talk and you’re going to listen.”
He found envelopes, masking tape and…duct tape. He looked up just as Sean jumped up and rushed him. Ken side-stepped and evaded the punch, grabbed the lapels of Sean’s unbuttoned designer coat and yanked then backwards as though to remove the coat, smoothly forcing Sean’s arms backwards too. He twisted the coat and trapped his arms. He pried the end of the duct tape with his teeth and wrapped the adhesive around Sean’s wrists and part of his lower arms. Sean struggled the entire time and cursed him. Ken pushed him back onto the chair. He didn’t bother with his legs.
“I asked you nicely to sit down and listen, but you keep acting stupid, O’Neal. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What do you want? Because of you, I lost Faith. Because of you—”
“You never had her to begin with,” Ken snarled, hand fisting.
“It kills you that I was her first, doesn’t it? A woman can never forget her first love. I couldn’t get enough of her and she was—”
Ken threw the punch, effectively shutting up Sean. Pissed at himself for losing control, he shook his smarting hand and stepped back. He ripped off a piece of tape and slapped it across Sean’s mouth. Then he retrieved his laptop, flipped it up, and set it on desk. By the time the computer booted and the video program was opened, Ken was calmer. He pressed play then rotated the computer to give Sean a clear view of the recording.
“Watch,” Ken ordered then sat behind Sean’s desk and watched him. Sean’s expression grew stricken as seconds passed. Ken had reviewed and memorized the video.
It started with Sean inside the vault collecting the gowns he left with Deidre, then showed the footage of him walking out of his car and into her building, and finally, the two of them talking outside her door. The last part was the interview between Eddie and Deidre. The video was on a loop and continued to play, repeating itself. Ken leaned forward, his elbow restin
g on the desk. Sean was now pasty, his eyes volleying between Ken’s face and the computer screen.
“This is what I’m going to do,” Ken said, his finger hovering above the keyboard. “I’ll click the send button, so the video goes live on every video hosting website online. At the same time, an e-mail will be sent to a certain fashion reporter to write part II of Faith Fitzgerald’s career, highlighting everything you’ve done to her the last several weeks. The reporter will have a list of sources willing to confirm each statement, and of course, a copy of this recording. From what I heard, most of these reporters love scandals to spice things up during Fashion Week.”
Sean looked ready to weep.
“Do you want to know what you can do so I don’t hit the send button?”
He nodded.
“Leave. Faith. Alone. You don’t call, text, or e-mail her. If you attend the same show, stay as far away from her as possible. I don’t want her to see you or even listen to you unless she must. You bother her in anyway at all, O’Neal, and I press the damn button.”
Sean nodded again. Ken pulled the tape covering his mouth.
“I promise I won’t contact her or do anything even though she turned Vivian against me,” he said.
“She told her aunt we have proof that you and Deidre worked together. That’s a fact. What her aunt chose to do afterwards was her decision, not Faith’s.”
Sean’s head dropped. “I’m so sorry for everything I did. I’ve never loved a woman the way I love her.”
“Get over it,” Ken said in a hard voice and closed his laptop. He thought he heard a sob escape Sean, but he must have been mistaken because Sean’s eyes were dry when he looked up. Dry and calculating.
“You think if I apologized to her, she might talk to her aunt to help me? I really need a sponsor for my show.”
Ken looked at Sean in disgust. He put Faith through exactly the same thing and she didn’t crumble, yet he was acting like a child. Ken didn’t bother to answer Sean. He put the laptop inside the gift bag, lifted it up and started for the door.
“Aren’t you going to untie me?” Sean called.
Dangerous Love Page 28