The Midnight Club

by Love, Michelle

  “His staffers are telling the truth?”

  “More than one,” Alex said gently. Ori wiped a tear away.

  “He really is going down, huh?”

  “The FBI are investigating, Ori. I’ve already had a call about you being interviewed.”

  Ori sighed, leaning against Maceo, who put his arms around her and looked up at his friend in gratitude. “Thank you, my friend, for everything. We could not have done this without you.”

  Alex smiled. “My pleasure. Look, we need to talk security later, but for now, I’ll give you two some space.”

  When they were alone, Ori looked at Maceo with shining eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

  Maceo nodded, smiling. “It looks like it, bella.”

  “Thank God.”

  Benoit had insisted on driving Shiloh to the airport himself. Shiloh had been quiet all day, and now he looked over at her. “Are you excited?”

  “I am,” she said softly. “I’m just not a fan of traveling. Besides, I worry about Beau in the cargo hold.”

  “I would offer my private jet, but I know you don’t approve.”

  She gave him a half smile. “I’m not going to lie; I would be torn about my principles and having Beau in the cabin with me.”

  “You will email me? We can Skype often too, and I can keep you up to date on my projects, if that would be of interest?”

  “Of course.” She looked away and out of the window, and Benoit nodded to himself. He would not make this separation harder by telling her just how desperately he would miss her. He was already grieving for the loss, but he was damned if he’d show it. This was the best opportunity Shiloh had been offered; Benoit Vaux knew how rare these things were. Over the past two weeks, Shiloh had seemed to have drifted away from him emotionally and physically, and he knew she was absorbed in her work. That was good. That was how he had become a self-made billionaire. Work was the key.

  At the gate, he kissed Shiloh’s soft pink mouth and felt the silky strands of her light blonde hair drift through his fingers. “Shiloh Holt,” he said. “You are a magical woman. You will go on and change the world, I have no doubt about that. I am lucky to call you a friend.”

  There was a little flinch, he noticed, but she smiled at him. “And the same to you, Benoit. Thank you for changing my mind about your kind. Look, I have to go, but I will email you.”

  “As soon as you’re settled,” he said, and kissed her again. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “C'est avec vous que j'ai commencé à dire oui au monde.”

  It is with you that I started to say yes to the world. “Paul Eluard,” Shiloh breathed, touched beyond comprehension, “I know that saying. It’s beautiful.”

  Benoit nodded and opened his eyes. “And very appropriate.”

  Shiloh stared at him, and he thought he saw a flash of tears there, but she smiled brightly at him. “I must go.”

  “Goodbye, Shiloh. We will see each other again.”

  She nodded but said nothing, as if not trusting herself to speak. She walked through the gate, only looking back once more to see him waving.

  Benoit watched her disappear, his heart sinking. If I had known one year ago what an effect this woman would have on me … Love, he decided, was a distraction. Love was the willowy blonde walking away from him right now.

  He drove back into the city through the cool Paris night and went to a bar near his home. He ordered a scotch and nursed it for a while before walking back to his apartment. Knowing Shiloh was in the air made him feel the emptiness of his home keenly.

  He snagged his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. Marcella answered, her smoky voice purring down the phone at him. “Benoit, darling, it’s been too long.”

  “How was your trip, Marcella?”

  “Too much sun, too much drink, too many young lovers. I adored it.” She gave a throaty laugh.

  Benoit grinned. “Marcella, what say we get together for a drink? I need a beautiful distraction.”

  Twenty minutes later, he was in a cab to her apartment and when she opened the door wearing nothing but a long silk robe, Benoit only hesitated for a moment before walking into the room. Marcella studied him.

  “Mon chére,” she said, without criticism, “you have changed.”

  Benoit nodded. “I have. Someone changed me. But now, Marcella, I need to forget her. Will you help me with that?”

  Marcella smiled and held out her hand, letting her robe fall open to reveal her lithe, athletic body. “But of course, my dear, but of course….”

  Already flying high above the city, Shiloh looked out of the window at the lights of Paris beneath her and let a few tears drip down her face. Goodbye. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hand over her belly. She’d lain in her bed the morning of her appointment at the clinic and listened to them calling her voicemail, asking her where she was. She couldn’t do it. Not Benoit’s child. Not her child. Whatever physical changes had come over her were nothing to the emotional bond she already felt with the tiny embryo inside her. She couldn’t get rid of it and now that she would be alone in Africa … screw it, she had thought. I want this child; I want it so badly.

  She sighed and leaned her head against the window. Even if its father doesn’t want me…

  Tyson Janek was tired of waiting. His career had been shot to smithereens and now he had nothing left. Well, not nothing; there was still his private fortune—he would never have to work again. But Tyson wanted fame above everything, and if he couldn’t get it through politics …

  He found out where she and Bartoli were staying and put together a reasonably sloppy disguise to throw her bodyguards off the scent. He figured if he went all out on prosthetics, it would be seen through in a moment. Instead, he shaved his head and wore his frameless glasses. His glossy, well-coiffed head of hair had been his standout insignia, along with his blandly handsome face. Without it, someone wouldn’t be completely sure if it was him or not.

  It was ridiculously easy to gain entrance to her hotel – even easier to bribe some staff into helping him. He used one of his staff’s credit cards to book into a suite. He had to be careful; his bodyguard had reported back to him that the F.B.I. was talking to Ori. They might be with her. They might on the lookout for him.

  So he let himself into the suite opposite Ori and Maceo’s and waited. She would be unprotected at some point; the Ori he knew hated to be cooped up. She would skip out for some ice from the machine in the hallway, or down to the lobby for some air, and then he would take her. No elaborate plan, just grab her and stick the knife into her as many times as he could before her security came running. Easy.

  Ha, Tyson thought now, setting up a chair near the door so he could hear her door opening and shutting, along snippets of conversations. Easy wasn’t the word I’d choose. Ori would die in agony, bleeding out before her bastard lover could summon the help she needed. Tyson didn’t much care about himself after that; they could put him in jail. As long as Ori was dead, he would be satisfied.

  His chance came three days later. He was listening to her talking to Maceo at their doorway before kissing him goodbye and telling him to hurry back home. Tyson watched through the peephole as Maceo Bartoli took off. The other guy, the American, seemed to be in the room with her, but when Tyson heard him leave too, he risked going across to the door and trying it.

  He couldn’t believe it. It was open. His heart pounding, he darted back to his room and grabbed the knife he kept ready. It was long, thin, and lethal.

  Tyson crept slowly over to Ori’s room and went inside. He walked silently through the apartment until he saw her. She was napping on the couch, stretched along the wide cushions. In her sleep, her T-shirt had ridden up, and Tyson was distracted by the long expanse of silky brown midriff. He gripped the knife and stepped forward, crouching down to her level. God, she was beautiful … he placed the tip of the knife against her skin, anticipating how it would split and gush blood, how her eyes would open in sho
ck and terror, her moans of agony ...

  “Goodbye, Ori….”

  A hand clamped over his mouth and jerked him away from Ori’s sleeping body. He dropped the knife as he realized he could smell chemicals and then the room was fading around him. As he lost consciousness, he heard a voice next to his ear, say, “Your death will be more merciful than you deserve, you piece of scum, more merciful than the one you were about to give Ori … you’ll never touch her again….”

  Tyson Janek knew then he was a dead man and that Ori, his Ori, had finally won.

  When Ori woke, it was already dark. She blinked; she’d only meant to sleep for an hour or so. Someone was banging on the door. “Miss Roy! Miss Roy!’

  She pushed herself off the couch and stumbled, still half asleep, to the door. Yanking it open, she was amazed to see her bodyguard almost frantic.

  “God, are you okay? Jesus, please, sit down, I’ll call 911.”

  Ori was completely discombobulated and let him lead her to the couch. “David, I don’t need 911. I’m fine; what are you …?.” She trailed off as she placed a hand on her belly to quell the rising panic—and her hand came away wet. She looked down.

  Blood. Ice flooded her veins … what the hell? She pulled up her T-shirt to find a shallow but definite stab wound just right of her navel. What the hell was going on?

  She suddenly felt lightheaded and she must have paled as David, who was always professional with her, stuck his arm around her to steady here. He was talking rapidly into his phone, only pausing when she turned frightened eyes towards him.

  “I’ve been stabbed,” she said in disbelief and he nodded, grim-faced, relaying that news to whomever was on the other end of the phone. A second later she discovered it was Maceo, also frantic; as David handed the phone to her, she could hear him yelling her name.

  “Ori, mio Dio, are you okay?”

  “Maceo, calm down, I’m fine. It’s not very deep … I just don’t understand how it happened.”

  She heard heavy breathing as Maceo tried to gather himself. “Maceo … why was David pounding on the door? Has something happened?”

  “God, Ori … it’s Janek. He’s been found dead.”

  Shock rippled through her—shock, but not sadness. “That’s … not important to us anymore.”

  Maceo sighed. “Look, David is going to take you to the emergency room and I’ll meet you there. Where the hell was Alex all day?”

  “Sweetheart, he has a job. I told him I’d be fine….” Jesus, she had no idea what was going on, and she suddenly felt exhausted. “Okay, look, I’ll go with David. You’ll be there?”

  “Of course.”

  Maceo, his handsome face lined with fear, wrapped his arms around her. The doctor smiled at him. “She’s fine. It’s just a little cut. I’m more concerned about the sedative.”

  Maceo was confused. “What?”

  Ori touched his face. “They think I was drugged with some kind of sedative. That’s how come I didn’t feel it when I was stabbed ...” She looked to the doctor, who nodded.

  “We’ve called the police, obviously. Look, you have your antibiotics. I’d like you to stay in one night for observation.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is,” Maceo interrupted her protest in a tone that she’d never heard before. Hard, angry, shocked. She nodded at him, squeezing his hand. Calm down.

  “Fine. Thanks, Doctor.”

  Maceo pressed his lips to hers. “I’m so sorry, baby. I should have protected you.”

  She clung to him, needing to feel his solid, strong body against hers. She felt chilled to the core. Maceo buried his face in her hair and she suddenly remembered what he had told her.

  “Tyson’s dead?”

  She felt him nod. “They think he may have fallen from the roof of his building.”

  “Fallen or jumped?”

  “They don’t know exactly.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment. Maceo stroked his finger down her cheek and she leaned into his touch. “Ti amo. Let’s go home, Ori. It’s time.”

  “Agreed.” She sighed and kissed him again.

  “Knock, knock.” The doctor reappeared, looking uncomfortable. “Ori, the police are here.”

  Ori noticed the doctor didn’t look at Maceo and wondered at his attitude, but gave her permission for the men to enter. Two police detectives entered the room, nodding at her.

  “Are you here about the stabbing?” Maceo stood and offered his hand. The police officer ignored it.

  “No … it’s about the death of Tyson Janek.” With a sympathetic glance at Ori, the officer reached into his pockets and drew out a pair of handcuffs. Suddenly Ori realized what was happening.

  “No, no, please, not that.”

  Maceo looked at her, his handsome face even more confused as the police officer reached for his wrist.

  “Maceo Bartoli, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Tyson Janek….”

  Chapter 3

  NIGHTFALL

  Lisander Duarte did not speak to anyone the entire flight from Buenos Aires to New York City. The flight attendants fussed over him, bringing him champagne, but Lisander barely registered their presence.

  Maceo. Arrested for murder. Jesus. What was shocking Lisander more than anything was that somehow this had been inevitable—Maceo had always been the one to get into trouble—but at the same time, out of all of The Midnight Club, Maceo was the one Lisander would have sworn blind would never, ever be violent. Leave that to Alex or me, he thought now, shaking his head. But maybe Maceo’s love had been in serious danger … Alex had called Lisander and filled him in, and Lisander had taken a look at the website. Seeing Viola’s dead body like that … god. Lisander had swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Alex had also told him about Maceo’s alleged victim.

  “Janek was a rapist and a pedophile,” Alex spat out, “and he was going to murder Ori. Maceo swears he didn’t kill him, but would any of us blame him if he did?”

  No way. He and Alex had always been the most similar of their group; no nonsense straight shooters who would do what it took to protect the people they loved. Had they underestimated Maceo’s capacity for violence?

  Alex had arranged for a car to pick Lisander up at the airport. At Alex’s hotel, he greeted his friend with a hug. “Where is Maceo now?”

  “Holding cell. He’s got a lawyer, but bail’s not been set yet.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  Alex half-smiled. “He’s Maceo. A little shocked to be banged up, but he’s pretty confident this will be sorted out.”

  “What about Ori?”

  Alex sighed, his expression softening. “A mess. She got hysterical when they arrested Maceo, so the doctors have kept her in the hospital, sedated. They think whoever killed Janek … well, they saved her life. Cops believe that Janek stabbed her and was stopped from going all the way. There were signs of a struggle in the room.”

  Lisander ran a hand through his pale brown curls. “Jesus, what a mess. Do we think Janek was behind that website?”

  Alex shook his head. “No. Ori is the only connection between the two cases.”

  Lisander studied his friend. Alex looked older and grayer, the grief of Viola’s murder etched on his handsome features. “And how about you, my friend?”

  Alex tried to smile. “The main thing is to get Maceo freed and to make sure Ori is safe. Seth thinks the best way is for me to take her out of state while Maceo is locked up, but she’s chafing against leaving him.”

  “What does Maceo say?”

  “Keep her safe. At whatever cost.”

  “Who’s his lawyer?”

  “Kathryn Garcia. She’s a junior at Fielding, Lawn, and Greg’s.”

  “Wait … junior?”

  “It was short notice, Sander. Maceo is happy with her.”

  Lisander’s face tightened. “Look, I want to see Maceo and talk to this lawyer.”

  Alex shrugged. “No problem
. Look, I can drop you at the prison if you’d like. I’m going to see Ori to try and talk some sense into her.”

  Kate Garcia tried not to grimace as she was being patted down for the third time that day. “How would I have smuggled something in when I haven’t been outside since the last time you did that?”

  The guard gave her a withering look and Kate grinned. “No sense of humor.”

  The guard buzzed her through the gate, and she walked quickly down to the interview rooms. Maceo was already waiting for her, his eyes tired and stressed, but he still had a warm smile for her. His green eyes crinkled at the edges.

  It would be quite easy to get a crush on you, Kate thought, but quickly pushed the thought away. Firstly, she was a professional. Secondly, Maceo Bartoli was crazy-nuts for his lover—the deceased’s stepdaughter. Kate had seen the press conference where Ori had outed Janek for his abuse of not only her but his biological son. Kate had cheered on the brave young woman and had been amazed when, not twenty-four hours later, she had been called to represent this man, Ori’s love, for the murder of Janek.

  “Did you sleep?” She studied Maceo’s handsome, scruffy face. He shook his head.

  “Not much. How is Ori? Have you seen her?”

  Kate smiled. “She’s fine, Maceo, just worried about you. The doctors haven’t released her yet, but I’m sure that when they do, her first visit will be to you.”

  Maceo shook his head. “No. I don’t want her coming to a place like this. Seeing me like this.”

  “Maceo – “

  “No. Please. I couldn’t bear it. Alex will know what to do.”

  Kate sighed. “Okay, well, I’ll stay out of it, but Ori won’t be happy.”

  “I just want her safe.”

  “I know.”

  Maceo fixed her with a steady gaze. “I didn’t kill Janek … but I would have. For her. He stabbed her … god, when I think about it … ”

  “Don’t think about that,” Kate said sharply, “Ori is fine. And don’t ever say that again to me or anyone else. At least not while we’re fighting this case.”