Get Blondie

by Cassidy, Carla

  When dinner was finished, Adam offered to take her on a tour of the house. She eagerly agreed, hoping she would spy where his home office was located in the house.

  He led her upstairs to the second floor first. “The third floor is strictly for staff,” he said. “But this floor is where my bedroom and all the guest suites are located.”

  He showed her the master suite first, a huge bedroom with a king-size bed covered in a rich, black-and-gold brocade spread.

  An oversize walnut dresser and highboy stood against the walls and the nightstands were equally impressive with large lamps on each one. There was no computer visible anywhere in the room.

  The connecting bath featured a marble, three-head shower and gold faucets and a hot tub big enough to swim in.

  He showed her five guests suites, one more beautifully decorated than the last, then paused in front of a closed door.

  “This is just another suite,” he said, not offering to show it to her.

  Instantly she knew whose room it had been. She placed a hand on his arm, giving him a soulful look of sympathy. “This is her room, isn’t it? Your daughter’s?”

  He nodded. “Yes, this is…was Miranda’s room.” He hesitated a moment, then opened the door. “Go on,” he said and gestured for her to enter the room.

  It was more a shrine than a room. It was apparent that nothing had been touched in here since the young woman’s death. The canopied bed was all pink ruffles and lace and a dressing table nearby still held the remnants of makeup and perfume.

  A huge corkboard hung on one wall and caught Cassie’s attention. She walked over to it and studied the pictures and notes and mementos stuck to the board. “This is Miranda?” she asked, pointing to the center photo of a beautiful brunette with big blue eyes.

  Adam nodded, but in his eyes she saw no sorrow…only a festering, burning rage and a hint of madness she’d never seen there before. “They killed her…those druggie friends of hers. I told her, I warned her about drugs from the time she was a little girl, but the minute she went to college they got to her.”

  He punched a fist into the center of the corkboard, the madness in his eyes full-blown and black as night. “Sons of bitches, they’ll pay. You wait and see, every last one of them will pay dearly.”

  “Adam!”

  He drew a ragged breath, as if to regain the control he’d momentarily lost. He looked at her as if surprised to see her standing next to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It just makes me so damned mad. She was so beautiful, so filled with life and with such a bright future ahead of her.”

  “I know,” she replied softly. She stepped close to him, so close her breasts lightly touched his chest. “I know about that anger…that rage. I feel it every time I think about Jimmy.”

  He grabbed her to him. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.” His gruff voice let her know the anger still had control of him.

  They left the room and he closed the door behind them. “Maybe it’s time for an after dinner drink,” he said as he led her back down the staircase.

  “I apologize for my outburst,” he said a moment later as he poured himself a healthy shot of scotch and a glass of wine for her. He handed her the glass, then joined her on the sofa.

  “Please, don’t apologize,” she replied. She stared down into her wineglass. “After Jimmy’s death I still had to go by the corner where he’d been shot on my way to and from work.

  “It was a corner known for drug dealing and I’d see the dealers standing around and I’d want to scratch their eyes out.”

  She gasped, as if appalled by her own outburst. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

  “Please, don’t apologize. It’s so refreshing to find a woman who isn’t afraid of her own emotions, even if those emotions aren’t always socially acceptable,” he said.

  “That’s why I had to leave Des Moines…because I was so filled with hatred, and afraid that eventually that hatred would drive me to do something terrible in revenge.”

  “Is revenge such a bad thing?” His eyes glittered intensely as if her answer were the most important thing she’d ever say to him.

  She smiled ruefully. “It is if it will put you in prison for the rest of your life. Even if I killed those creeps selling drugs, I’d still face murder charges.”

  “And that is the injustice of our justice system.” He gestured to her nearly empty wineglass. “Would you like some more?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine. Are you going to show me the rest of your home? It’s just so beautiful.” She had to find his computer.

  She hoped she didn’t sound too eager to invade his personal space. He didn’t seem to take offense. “Yes, of course,” he said. He stood and reached for her hand. “I always enjoy showing off my home.”

  He showed her the rest of the main floor, a huge kitchen that could easily fulfill the needs of a busy restaurant, a glassed-in sunroom with a killer view of the lush gardens. “I often enjoy my morning coffee here,” he said.

  “So where do you work from? Do you have an elegant office downtown?”

  “No, there’s nothing elegant about my work space and I work such odd hours that I have my office right here.” He led her from the sunroom down a hallway and into a large study.

  Bingo! Cassie thought as she saw the state-of-the-art computer that was on and humming on the beautiful, massive walnut desk.

  “Now when you call me and tell me you’re working I’ll be able to picture you sitting in this room,” she said.

  He walked over to her and drew her into his arms. “I hate talking to you on the phone and envisioning you in your home surroundings,” he murmured close to her ear.

  “Not everyone can live like a king, Adam,” she chided. “My apartment might not be The Ritz, but at the moment it’s home and I’m not beholden to anyone for it.”

  He stroked a strand of her hair, hunger evident in his eyes. “I want you, Jessica.” He dropped his hand from her hair and instead grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer against him.

  She hesitated, unsure what her response should be. All her research had indicated that Adam Mercer liked a challenge, but when it came to women and sex what exactly constituted a challenge?

  “I’m sorry…I’m rushing things,” he said, taking away the need for any definitive response from her. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  “Adam, I’m very attracted to you and I love spending time with you. I just don’t want to move too fast and make a mistake.”

  “I agree,” he replied. “But, I can tell you this, I don’t feel as if I’m making a mistake with you.”

  She smiled shyly. “I feel the same way.”

  “Good.” A smug smile curved his lips. “And now, how about a walk through the gardens?”

  The June sun had fallen just enough to transform the light of day with shades of pink and gold. The gardens were a sight to behold. The air was filled with the scent of flowers in a variety of colors and shapes.

  Even though Cassie oohed and aahed over the floral wonderland, her mind cataloged far more than the display of planned nature. She saw that the stone wall encircled the entire compound. There were outbuildings on the back left side of the house and the swimming pool and a large treed area to the right.

  She saw no guards, although she spied video cameras mounted atop the stone wall at regular intervals. If anything went wrong it was vital that she know the surroundings, where the best escape route might be, how to flee the area in the most expeditious way.

  As they walked through the garden, Adam held her hand and told her about the variety of flowers contained in the different beds. There was a patronizing quality to his voice and that, along with the thoughts of his earlier outburst made him climb higher up her personal “ick” meter.

  In the past week she’d gotten a better handle on what kind of a man he was and she found his character sadly lacking in decent human qualities. He was rude and arrogant to his employees, impat
ient with people in general and she suspected he might be having some cash flow problems.

  There was nothing specific she could put her finger on to back up her suspicions, just a lot of little things that added up to the possibility. She’d overheard a terse phone call between Adam and his personal banker when they’d been out to dinner, and the fact that he’d fired most of his household help hinted at some financial problems.

  By the time they had finished their walk of the grounds and he’d shown her his pool and pool house, night had erased the last of the day’s light.

  “Stay the night,” Adam said when they were once again in the living room. “You can have any of the guest bedrooms you like. I’d love to have my coffee in the morning with you sitting opposite me.”

  “But I didn’t bring any nightclothes,” she protested weakly. Nothing served her purpose better than spending the night in his home.

  “I took the liberty of buying some things in case you’d ever want to spend a night here with me.”

  “You are a very presumptuous man,” she teased, then sighed with a touch of wistfulness. “I did like that bedroom with the white-and-gold bedspread.”

  “Then tonight it will be yours,” he said firmly. “I promise I’ll have you back to your apartment before noon tomorrow.”

  She hesitated another moment. “All right, then I’d love to stay the night and have coffee with you in the morning.”

  “Wonderful.”

  The rest of the evening passed quickly. Adam put music onto the stereo system and they sat in the living room and talked.

  The longer she spent in Adam’s company, the less she liked him. She could certainly understand how a young, impressionable woman might find his arrogance attractive, his ostentatious display of wealth seductive and his aura of power magnetic.

  But Cassie saw beneath the polished smooth facade of Adam Mercer, and what she saw there was a megalomaniac who had a warped conscience and sense of morality, and a burning rage over the death of his daughter.

  She wondered about his marriage, if it had really been Miranda’s death that had destroyed the union or if maybe his wife had used that tragedy to escape from a man who had probably mentally abused and controlled her.

  The fact that she didn’t particularly like him made her job both easier and more difficult. It was easier because she could take him down without losing a wink of sleep, more difficult because before she brought him down she had to make him believe she was smitten with him.

  It was a relief when they decided to call it a night. He escorted her up the stairs and to the doorway of the room she’d seen earlier.

  “Sweet dreams, Jessica,” he murmured and gathered her into his arms. His hard lips captured hers in a searing kiss she guessed was supposed to spin her senses and make her gasp with desire. It did neither.

  But as he released her she stumbled backward and heaved a sigh of what she hoped sounded like sensual pleasure. Apparently he was satisfied that he’d overwhelmed her with passion. “Why don’t we plan on breakfast about seven-thirty in the morning in the sunroom? Is that all right with you?”

  “Fine as long as there’s an alarm clock in the room. Without an alarm, I’d sleep until noon.”

  “I think you’ll find everything you need.”

  “Thank you, Adam. I’ll see you in the morning.” She entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She turned the lock on the door, then checked to make sure there were no hidden cameras or surveillance devices in the room.

  She knew it was crazy to even think of such a thing, but she wouldn’t put anything past Mercer. She didn’t relax until she’d assured herself the room was clean.

  She’d specifically chosen this particular bedroom not because of the decorating style, but because it was nearest to the stairs and furthest away from his master suite.

  Somebody had been in the room to prepare it for her. Not only was the bed turned down, but a pink silk nightgown and matching robe was laid out on the bed.

  In the adjoining bathroom a basket filled with shampoos and soaps and perfumed moisturizers awaited her use. She knew it would be hours before she could get to what she wanted to do, so she indulged herself in a long, steamy, sweet-scented bath in a tub that was sinfully large.

  Although it had been years since she had lived on the streets, she’d never taken for granted the luxuries like hot water and soap and the exquisite pleasure of a leisurely soak in a tub. And tonight she would sleep in a bed where she didn’t have to worry about creepy crawlers…if she managed to sleep at all.

  She soaked in the tub for a long time, her thoughts drifting back in time, back to Los Angeles, back to the moment when she had first realized her mother wasn’t coming back for her.

  She’d sat near the curb for hours, watching for her mother’s boyfriend’s truck to come back, for her mom to laugh and tell her it had all been a horrible joke.

  She could still remember the smells of that day…the hot odor of oil and tar from the nearby street, the stench of garbage rotting in the heat, the horrifying smell of fear that emanated from her own body and overpowered every other scent.

  Hope had been her only companion for that first long afternoon and night. She’d clung to it like a security blanket, certain that when her mother came to her senses she’d remember to come back for her.

  But the afternoon passed, the evening came and went and the frightening darkness of night fell. Cassie had spent that first night in the alcove of a storefront, terror keeping her eyes open and her heart pounding.

  By the time Cassie was ten, she’d known her mother had a problem, that she took pills that made her stay up for days, then she’d take more pills and would sleep for an entire day. She’d grown accustomed to the smell of grass that clung to her mother’s clothes and hair, although at that time she didn’t know what to call the rolled cigarettes her mother liked to smoke.

  It was only as she grew older that she realized her mother’s real weakness was not so much the pills or the marijuana, but rather a character flaw that made her mother weak, afraid to be alone and easily abused by the men who rolled in and out of her life.

  She ran the sponge across her shoulders then leaned forward to add more hot water into the tub. When she stretched back out once again, she thought of the man who had been with her mother when she’d been left on the streets.

  His name had been Rick. She didn’t remember his last name, but she remembered in the four months her mother was with him the way his small dark eyes had followed her, how he’d find ways to put his hot, sweaty hands on her. He’d rub her shoulders, or pat her butt, all seemingly innocent, but there was something in his touch that made Cassie afraid.

  Still, she couldn’t believe that her mother had left her on a strange street in a strange city in the middle of the afternoon with no intention of ever coming back for her.

  What kind of a mother did something like that? And what had Cassie done that had made her mother throw her away? By the afternoon of the third day, Cassie realized desperately nobody was coming back for her. She was on her own.

  She stirred, pulling herself from the past, surprised to discover tears wetting her cheeks. She grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed her face, irritated that thoughts of that long ago betrayal still had the power to move her emotionally.

  As she dried off she wondered why she even cared about seeing her mother again. Why did she want to find the woman who had dumped her out of a truck and never looked back?

  She told herself she just wanted to find Billy. She wanted to find the little brother she’d loved and lost. But it was more than that. She needed to look her mother in the face and ask one simple question…why?

  She wanted her family. The hunger inside her for family never completely went away. It shouted at her in quiet moments and whispered to her during busy ones. The hunger was a constant companion and she knew the only way she could get relief from the pain was to find them.

  She pulled the silk nightgown over her
head, glad that it was knee-length rather than floor-length. If she was going to skulk around the house in the dark, she didn’t want to be tripping over her hemline.

  An alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed read almost eleven. It would be several hours before she attempted a foray outside the bedroom.

  She set the alarm for six-thirty the next morning, then shut off the lights in the room and moved to the window. From this vantage point she had a view of the back grounds. The three-quarter moon overhead spilled down a silvery illumination that made visibility good.

  She remained at the window for an hour but during that time saw no patrols, no guards of any kind. Apparently Adam depended solely on the video cameras for security.

  After thoroughly assessing the situation, she left the window and crawled into bed. She wasn’t afraid she’d fall asleep. Adrenaline pumped through her, chasing away any thought of sleep.

  Adam had indicated that he did everything on his computer. She was hoping his plans for his future annihilation were there.

  He couldn’t be doing it all alone. The plot was too big for one man to accomplish. Someplace, somewhere somebody had to be manufacturing the tainted drugs, somebody had to be arranging for shipment. Adam was enough of a control freak that he’d need to be in touch with those people on a daily basis. The easiest way to maintain contact would be either through cell phone or e-mail.

  She needed to get to his computer.

  When the clock read one forty-five, she pulled herself out of bed. She didn’t bother to pull on the long robe, afraid that she’d get tangled in the silky material should she have to move fast.

  With her room still dark except for the moonlight that crept in, she made her way to the door. She unlocked it, then turned the knob and opened it, grateful that it didn’t creak.

  She stood in the threshold, listening for any sound that would indicate anyone in the household was still awake. Nothing.

  She peeked down the hallway, toward the end where Adam’s room was located. The door was closed. She hoped he was lost in sweet dreams of murder and mayhem.