by Debra Webb
Even before he’d used that pet name for her, she’d known it was him. An all-too-familiar tremor had quaked through her the instant he touched her... the instant she felt his breath on her skin and she smelled that hideously expensive cologne he wore.
“Let go of me, Brian, or I’ll scream!”
He laughed that condescending sound that personified the very essence of his macho mentality. He considered himself above all others, especially her. Why hadn’t she seen that when they first met? Why hadn’t she picked up on what a bastard he really was?
“So scream,” he taunted. “Who’s going to hear you?” He reached for the knob, gave it a fierce twist and kicked the door inward. “We’re going to talk.” Shoving her inside ahead of him, he quickly closed the door behind him.
Elizabeth scrambled to regain the equilibrium she’d lost physically as well as mentally. Too many possibilities for her to choose just one swirled wildly amid the confusion and irritation clouding her ability to reason. Why was he here? What did they have to talk about?
Brian moved to the long table in the center of the dark interior and switched on one of the brass reading lamps. The dim glow pitched the space into long shadows, but she would have been fine without the light. She had firsthand knowledge of every inch of this room. After all, she’d helped decorate these offices just months ago. How else could she have afforded such an exclusive therapist? She’d worked hard to make Ned’s suite of offices into everything he’d wanted. This room was no exception.
Ned’s professional library. The walls were lined with book-filled, gleaming mahogany shelves. A single conference-style table, also mahogany, surrounded by upholstered armchairs served as the focal point. Built-in brass reading lamps lined the table, four of them altogether. The classic reading lamps gave the room a more intimate ambiance than overhead lighting. Between each set of lamps was a granite ashtray for the cigar smokers.
The far corner of the room was equipped with a bar complete with a wine fridge, a state-of-the-art coffeemaker and a small marble sink. A Monet print hung next to a shiny brass rack that held mugs and glasses. The bar offered a wide array of liquors. A humidor stored the finest in imported cigars. Ned had insisted he needed the very best to entertain colleagues and special clients.
She’d learned the hard way just what special meant to him.
Ned Harrison hadn’t missed a trick. Whatever he wanted, he got. No matter the cost. He’d once lived in the upstairs portion of the brownstone, but fame had sent him in search of more elaborate housing. Now the rooms above his offices served as mere storage. She wondered briefly if it had all been worth it. Had his primal urges been worth dying for? She’d pretty much concluded that his murder had something to do with those very urges—and the Gentlemen’s Association.
Who would ever have suspected? On the outside he’d been all charm and grace and appeared to have the world by the tail. All one had to do to join him in his glorious life was be obedient and submissive to his demands. Yet somehow he’d always managed to make her think it was what she wanted. It sickened her now to realize how naive she’d been.
“Sit.” Dragging her attention back to the present, Brian motioned to one of the chairs.
He loved tossing out those one-word commands as if she were a dog or other well-trained pet. Hadn’t she been exactly that?
But those days were over. “No thanks,” she threw right back at him, folding her arms in defiance.
Those pale-gray eyes, as hard and icy as a frozen lake, gazed relentlessly into hers as he started toward her. She fought the urge to run. She would not let him have his way. Not again. Not ever again.
“I said sit!” He jerked out one of the chairs and clamped a hand on her shoulder and with crushing strength propelled her into the waiting seat.
For the first time since she’d confirmed it was him, fear slithered around her, tightening her chest. What was his problem? And what was he doing here anyway?
Before she could demand some answers, he gave another order. “Tell me what it is you think you know.” He propped himself on the edge of the table, positioning himself so that he could look down at her. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
If he’d slapped her, she wouldn’t have been any more surprised. As cruel and belittling as Brian could be, she’d never feared him in the physical sense until now. With her heart pumping feverishly and dread dampening her skin, she grabbed back some courage and dredged up an innocent look. “What’re you talking about?”
Her heart beating relentlessly against her sternum, she held her breath and prayed he would let it go at that.
He smiled, the surface convention utterly sinister. She swallowed. Hard. Was this some sort of game? She’d never seen him like this.
And suddenly she knew.
Brian was a part of this. He was probably a card-carrying member of the Gentlemen’s Association as well. God knew he had the penchant for perversion.
“I know what you did, Elizabeth,” he said softly, the gentler tone laced with a threatening edge. “The truth is, I don’t give a damn that Harrison is dead.” He made a sound, half growl, half chuckle. “He took too many chances.” Brian reached out to graze her cheek with his fingertips. She flinched, earning herself another of those unnerving smiles.
“I know how he felt about you,” he continued in that same low tone. His fingers trailed down her throat. “He thought you were special. Didn’t want to let you go like he should have.” His fingers splayed around her throat.
Elizabeth was determined not to let him see her fear. Damn him. “Don’t touch me like that.” Hard as it was, she maintained eye contact, kept him looking at her so he wouldn’t notice her left hand inching its way toward the center of the table.
That evil smile only widened. “All you have to do is tell me the secret you’re keeping and everything will be fine. I know you know—that’s why you’re here.” The pressure of his fingers increased ever so slightly, raising goose bumps on her flesh. “He wanted you, so I let him have you. But it wasn’t easy. You were mine.”
She froze, the thoughts screeching to a halt inside her head. “What’re you saying?”
“Marrying you wasn’t going to change who I am,” he went on mysteriously. “It would’ve simply provided the kind of image I need. Until I found you, there hadn’t been anyone I would have allowed that privilege. But I knew you’d never suspect the nature of my true needs.” His fingers slid around to cup her neck and draw her closer. “As naive as you were, you could still bring me to my knees with that sweet mouth and that hot body.”
Fury burned away every other emotion, including the paralyzing fear she’d felt only a second earlier. She tried to jerk away from him. This was insane. Nothing he said made sense.
“But Ned...” He released her and shrugged. “He was obsessed with you. Just watching you at the parties turned him on. He had to have you. What could I do? He was my best friend.”
This just couldn’t be. She shook her head in denial of what his words meant. “I rarely even saw the two of you speak. How could he have been your best friend? You didn’t even come to his funeral!”
“Our relationship wasn’t like that,” Brian explained. “It was a private bond. A dangerous secret just between us.” He leaned nearer still, those menacing eyes carrying enough of an arctic blast to form icicles inside her. “Just like the one I know you’re keeping from me.”
A new thought punched through the pile of others tumbling into her head. “But it was Gloria who introduced me to Ned.” She shook her head thoughtfully. “She suggested I see him. Professionally.” He couldn’t be right about any of this. “You didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Brian stared at her lips now in a way that had once drawn her like a moth to the flame. Abruptly his earlier threat echoed loudly in her ears. He wanted answers—or he would hurt her. She inched her fingers closer to the nearest ashtray.
“I’m the one who told Gloria that seeing Ned would be a good
idea for you.”
His statement stunned her, stole her breath. Gloria—her best friend, the only person in the world she trusted—was involved in this? Any bravado she’d managed collapsed like a house of cards. “I don’t believe you.”
He straightened away from her, snapping out of his fixation with her lips. “Well, it’s true. I have no reason to lie.” He stared down at her once more, impatience registering. “Tell me what you know.” When she would have argued, he said, “Careful now, I don’t want you to regret anything.” Something knowing slid into his expression. “I could always tell the police that I have evidence you killed him.”
“I didn’t kill him!” How could he say that? It was beyond all doubt now. He was insane.
“Of course you did.”
Her head moved side to side in denial of his ridiculous accusation. “Why would I kill him? You can’t possibly have any evidence of any such thing.”
“Because he wasn’t going to let you go, even after you discovered his socially unacceptable appetite and was repulsed by it. He wanted to keep you anyway. We all knew the troubles the two of you were having.” That evil smile stretched his lips once more. “You’d be surprised what can be turned into evidence.”
The way she’d openly avoided Ned... the argument... God, the dagger. All of it whipped around in her head. The dagger had been a gift from her. Had Brian planted it at the crime scene? Horror gripped her by the throat. Surely he hadn’t killed Ned!
“A man should always know when to let go,” Brian rambled on. “But Ned refused. I warned him that keeping you would be a mistake. The longer the relationship went on, the more likely you were to discover our secret. Others were concerned, as well. All you have to do is tell me what you saw or heard and we can take care of this now.”
Others? Keeping her? Incredulity momentarily overshadowed the fear. This was the twenty-first century. Men didn’t keep women. And the only appetite she’d known Ned to have was the insatiable one he had for women. He liked to screw around, especially with those who trusted him on a professional level. One woman would never have been enough for him. He knew how to make a woman think she needed him. To make her believe it had been her idea. Elizabeth stilled. But there had been that one secret—the videos. Was that what Brian meant?
She stared up at the man she’d thought she’d known... the man she was supposed to marry. “I don’t know what any of this means,” she said, praying he’d buy the innocent act. Her fingers finally touched the edge of the cool granite. Anticipation shot adrenaline into her bloodstream. She struggled to keep the tumultuous emotions from her eyes.
“Tell me, Liz.” Brian leaned in her direction again. “How did it feel to plunge that dagger into his chest? Was it like the time you stabbed your brother-in-law, or was it all the better knowing you’d sliced straight into his heart?”
“I didn’t do it!” The raw, primal sound of her voice startled even her.
“But can you prove it?” he taunted. “Now, tell me what you know,” he roared.
Her fingers curled around the lip of the ashtray. “I don’t know anything!” She surged upward and slammed the heavy ashtray into the side of his head before he could block the move. He staggered, then crumpled to the floor.
And didn’t move.
A trickle of blood bloomed at his hairline along his temple. Fear slammed into her. Her first instinct was to see how badly he was hurt, but her second overrode the momentary lapse in intelligence. She dropped the ashtray and ran.
She had only one thing on her mind—finding Gloria.
Brian couldn’t have been telling the truth. She refused to believe that Gloria had betrayed her. Hadn’t they both suffered at Ned’s hand? Gloria was just as hurt by Ned as she was. She and Gloria were best friends, for God’s sake.
Pushing herself to move faster, Elizabeth bounded onto the sidewalk. Brian could come to any second and chase her down. She felt certain she’d only stunned him. She didn’t want to think what he might have had planned for her. But why? What did he have to do with any of this?
How could she not have known he and Ned were close?
What did they have in common? Ned was a psychiatrist. Brian was an architect. At least five years separated them in age. Their tastes in clothing, music, in everything, were worlds apart. She couldn’t even imagine what they talked about except sex, obviously.
The Gentlemen’s Association.
The realization struck her like a kick to the abdomen. Brian had to have been a part of it. That explained his comment about the others. He’d seen the videos. Renewed horror rushed through her. How many of their love-making sessions had Brian videoed? Her knees threatened to buckle. Would this nightmare ever end? All these years she’d felt so sorry for her sister living in hell with an on-again-off-again drug habit and an abusive husband. And look at her. She hadn’t fared much better.
Elizabeth slammed headlong into a brick wall—or what felt like one. Male. Tall. Strong.
Kicking and clawing, she tried to wrench away from the hands grabbing at her, but he was too strong. She couldn’t let him get her now. Had to get away. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Stop fighting me!” he ordered.
Recognition filtered through her hysteria. She went limp and her gaze flew to his face.
MacBride.
“What the hell are you running from?”
In the next second Elizabeth realized two things.
She had just committed assault and been caught fleeing the office of a victim in an ongoing murder investigation.
A murder investigation in which she was the prime suspect.
Her life was over.
MacBride shook her just hard enough to get her attention. Those strong fingers gripping her arms sent spears of heat firing through her. “What happened, Elizabeth? What’re you doing here?”
“I... I thought I’d left something in the library.” She felt uncomfortable at the idea of having to lie to him again. She was tired of lying—especially to him. If he ever found out...
Even in the dim light she saw his eyes narrow. “At Harrison’s office?”
MacBride was no fool. He knew exactly where she’d been. Had probably known this was where she was headed the minute his man reported her having given him the slip in the vicinity of midtown.
“Yes.” She sucked in a ragged breath and shrugged free of his hold, even though a part of her would have liked nothing better than to wilt into those powerful arms. “I helped decorate his office,” she stammered, grappling for an acceptable excuse, “and I only just realized my paint chips were missing. I thought maybe I’d left them there.”
“The work you did for Harrison was months ago, wasn’t it?”
She lifted her chin and flat out ignored his innuendo. “I didn’t miss them until I needed them.”
He cocked his head and eyed her suspiciously. “That doesn’t explain why you were running for your life. Was someone else there, too?”
God almighty. If by some sick twist of fate Brian was dead, she was done for twice over. Even if he was alive and still hanging around, she didn’t want MacBride to talk to him. The last thing she needed was Brian putting ideas about evidence and motives into MacBride’s head. She was already at the top of his go-to-jail list.
“While I was searching I,” her mouth worked but a plausible excuse momentarily escaped her, “I thought I heard someone outside. I got spooked so I ran.” She held her breath as she waited for his reaction to the enormous fabrication.
“I guess we should check it out, then.”
Before she could come up with a reason not to go back, he was dragging her toward Ned’s office. At the door her heart leaped into her throat. If Brian opened his big mouth...
“You left the door open?”
The door stood ajar the way she’d left it but there was no sign of Brian. She blinked and looked again just in case. No Brian. Thank God.
She nodded in answer to MacBride’s question. “I was too
scared to take the time to lock up.” Now that was the truth. She spotted the ashtray on the floor under the conference table. She prayed he wouldn’t notice. At least there wasn’t a big puddle of blood on the floor.
“You have a key?” A dash of surprise colored MacBride’s voice.
“I guess I forgot to give it back after the job was done,” she offered, moving to the conference table to lean against it. She couldn’t trust her ability to stay vertical at the moment and she hoped to block his view of the granite ashtray. A mixture of relief and trepidation had turned her muscles rubbery.
Brian must have noticed that someone had detained her as she fled. He’d likely slipped away unnoticed in the other direction.
Lucky him.
She was stuck here with MacBride.
Not that being stuck with him was such a hardship. At least he didn’t want to kill her... and he was hot. Really? She did a mental eye roll. No matter that there was a definite attraction between her and the Bureau’s hotshot agent, she did not need any additional complications right now. Not to mention the fact that MacBride thought she was a killer.
She still had trouble accepting that Ned was actually dead—murdered. She’d never known anyone who wound up murdered. Setting aside the fact that in some ways he’d deserved a bad end, he’d still been a human being and now he was gone.
Standing here in the library she’d helped choose colors and carpeting for, the reality crashed in on her. No force on earth could bring Ned back. His life was over and hers might very well be, too, if MacBride had anything to say about it. Not to mention Brian was into something she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand. She really needed to talk to Gloria.
“You’re certain there was no one else here besides you?”
Elizabeth snapped back to attention. Careful not to look directly at him, she nodded. “Just me—until I heard the sound outside. Someone must have been poking around in the alley.” She would let him draw his own conclusions. Could have been a homeless person for all MacBride knew.
He bent down and picked up something from the floor. “I guess I overlooked this the last time I was here.” He held the item out for her inspection and she knew instantly what it was. Brian’s money clip. A fourteen-carat gold showpiece with the initials BWN. Brian Wade Novak.