“Adam, here I come.”
Chapter 23
I gained a new appreciation for electricity as I crept through the narrow, shadowy duct. Pushing the lit votive on its ashtray in front of me without setting my hair on fire or broiling my flesh was a unique challenge, since the duct sloped upward before it leveled out. Even worse, the candle prevented me from seeing any other lights, such as the ones we’d spied from the office. The only other option was blowing out the candle, which would leave me in darkness. Not an acceptable choice.
Metal banged while ghostly laughter echoed through the duct. I froze, stiff with fear. The hair at my nape prickled. I’d heard that sinister giggle before. Where? When? My mind flipped through the possibilities like a cardsharp shuffling, but I drew a blank.
Moving forward, I came to a junction in the ductwork, so I could see in four directions. The left tunnel would be a dead end, for that went toward the side of the building. I looked to the right and saw a dark shape a few yards away. Another burst of evil laughter wrenched at my heart and my composure. After a few moments, though, I noticed that the shape didn’t move.
Nor did I. Moments crawled past as I hesitated, frozen by dread.
Silence. Stillness. I figured that it would be safe to investigate, and inched forward.
The nasty chortle echoed down the duct as the answer came to me, sickeningly and suddenly like a fender-bender during rush hour. I’d heard that irritating laugh accompanied by clashing metal before—in the locker room of my athletic club. This creep was the same yahoo who’d stolen my wallet and nearly gotten me arrested!
My teeth clenched. Nothing would stop me now. I’d get this jerk who’d made my life a misery.
As I crawled into the right-hand tunnel, I heard scraping and clattering in the direction I headed, but the noises seemed to be receding. Damn. He was leaving! I tried to speed up, but squirming faster through the metal shaft wasn’t easy. The narrow duct became colder and colder every moment. I hadn’t put on my dress for this adventure, not wanting to spoil Esme’s beautiful embroidery or the delicate silk. Plus, I figured that the fluttery layers would get in my way. So I was squirming through the chilly metal duct wearing only lingerie and heels, with Fletcher’s jacket for protection against the chill. The cameo ring he’d given me clicked softly against the metal shaft.
“Remember what the man said, Cara,” I muttered to myself. “Live a little. Have a new experience.”
The bundle turned out to be a black leather jacket and a zippered bag. Hmm. Maybe there’s an I.D. inside. I opened it with shaky fingers, then dropped it immediately without touching the contents: a syringe and a small baggie with a white powdery substance. “Adam,” I breathed.
I headed back to show Fletch my discoveries, but he wasn’t glad to see me. When I reached the office, I peered down and saw him pacing back and forth, scowling and rubbing his head where I’d mistakenly kicked him.
“I’m back! Help me down, would ya?” I extended a hand to him, holding the candle.
He took it, placing it on a shelf next to its mate, then grabbed me beneath the armpits and hauled me out of the duct.
Red-faced, he shook me as though he was a terrier and I a rat. “Don’t you ever pull a crazy stunt like that again, do you hear me!”
Definitely not happy to see me. “Babe, jeez, calm down. Everything’s okay.”
“I am not okay.” He articulated every word precisely, as though I were an idiot who needed everything explained carefully and slowly. “First you knocked me out. Then I had to wait here while you got yourself killed. Do not ever do anything like this again. Ever. Ever.”
My eyes filled. “Oh, Fletch. I’m so sorry. You gotta understand that I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I buried my face in his chest, wetting his shirt front.
“I know you didn’t, honey.” He sounded exasperated rather than infuriated, a distinct improvement. “You have got to think before you act. Your opinion is only one of two here.”
Raiding my head, I glared at him. “Hey, this is my battle. This creep has been torturing me, not you, for the last six months.”
“How do you know it’s the same person?”
“I’m sure. I found a black leather jacket and drugs in the duct. There’s someone there, all right, and I bet it’s Adam Covarrubia.”
He visibly tensed. “Did you find any weapons?”
“No, but he could easily have a knife.” I shivered despite his warm embrace.
“You’re freezing, baby. Put your dress back on.” He led me back to the sofa.
While I dressed, he plotted. “We need to cover up that hole,” he said. “It’s the only way in or out of this suite. If we secure it, he can’t get to us.”
“Should we put the grille back on?”
“That would be a start, but if he has a gun, he can blow right through it. Let me think.”
A solid object streaming foul grey smoke bounced into the room from the duct’s opening. I screamed.
“Sweet Lord Almighty!” Fletch leaped off the sofa and grabbed the object. “Oh, hell! This fucker’s hot!” He juggled it from hand to hand.
“Throw it back! Throw it back!” I shrieked.
He tossed it back toward the duct. He missed. “Fuck!” It hit the wall and bounced to the carpet.
Grabbing it again, he threw it overhand into the duct as far as he could, and he had a good right arm. I bent over at the waist, coughing and choking, tears streaming from my eyes. I became light-headed and dizzy, terrified I’d pass out and never wake up again.
“Get to the other side of the room!” Grabbing a leather cushion from the sofa, he crammed it into the duct’s opening. “This should trap the fumes. He’ll get smoked like jerky.”
“I can’t stop coughing!” Still bent over double, I staggered to the far side of the room where I hoped the smoke was thinner.
“Get down.” He pushed on my back. “The fresher air will be near the floor.”
I dropped to the carpet, rolling over and coughing, while he reeled. He picked up the coffee table and rammed one end of it through the nearest window. Glass smashed and tinkled. A gust of chilly air exploded into the room, scattering the noxious cloud.
“My God, Fletch. What have you done?”
Turning, he raised a brow. “I thought we could use some fresh air.”
“Look at this place. We’ve trashed your office.”
“You do what you have to, honey. The gas could be toxic. I wouldn’t put it past that rat to throw a poisonous stink bomb in here.”
“You’re right. Didn’t he knife Maggie to death? I’ve just never seen you so, umm, impulsive.”
“Stick with me, baby. You’re not the only one who’s spontaneous around here.”
I tried to stand up, and he rushed to support me. Everything felt bad, but I said, “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy. Oh hell!” I clutched my belly. “I think I’m gonna be sick. The smell—”
He ran to try the door of his washroom while I stuffed my knuckles into my mouth and swallowed repeatedly. My infamous touchy stomach had decided to take issue with the stench left by the stink bomb that Adam had thrown, and I struggled not to toss my cookies, no matter what. I wouldn’t shame myself again.
Meanwhile, Fletch jerked on the locked bathroom door. Cursing, he took a step back and let fly with one of his elegant Italian loafers. The door crashed open.
“The executive washroom, my dear.” He bowed and gestured.
I dashed in.
He followed with a candle, remarking, “These votives are burning down, but they’ll do for now. We’ll have to find more soon.” Leaving the candle on the counter, he closed the door when he left.
I appreciated that little gesture, which showed that he respected my need for privacy during a moment of weakness. What had been in that horrible smoke? My stomach tipped and twisted. My mouth was desert-dry except for sticky, thick bile. My contacts itched abominably. I’d bet my eyes were red as stoplights.
Cupping
my hands, I drank some water from the tap before looking up to check the lenses. Lettering in blood-red lipstick marred the mirror.
DIE DIE DIE
Screams erupted from the depths of me. The world went dark around me as the black spots in front of my vision coalesced. I scrabbled for the doorknob frantically as though the crimson words were a fateful curse condemning me to an immediate and terrible death. I couldn’t stop the screams which burst from me like fire sirens at a four-alarm blaze.
“Cara, Cara, Cara.” Suddenly, thankfully, Fletch was there, enfolding me in his arms as he sought to calm me down.
Oh, thank God for him. He’ll keep me safe. I clung to the open halves of Fletcher’s shirt front, still damp from my guilty tears. “L-l-look.”
His gaze followed my pointing finger. “Sweet Lord Almighty! What the hell is going on! That settles it. I’m calling 9-1-1, Damon, Griff, everybody. Honey, we’re gonna get outta here right now.”
He dragged me out of the washroom, hunting for the cellphone I’d left on the sofa. Keeping me tight to his side, he started punching buttons. “9-1-1’s busy. Figures. You know, what I don’t understand is how he got into that bathroom.”
“Let’s check the grate in there.” I stood and went back to the washroom on quivery legs while he remained on the couch, still trying to use the phone to get through to someone.
I didn’t have a chance to check out the grille in the washroom before a hand came over my mouth and cold steel pressed against my temple.
“Move, scream, and you die,” a voice hissed.
I went absolutely stiff with fear. Someone pushed me out of the washroom into the office.
Fletch looked up. His entire body tensed, as though he gathered himself to spring at my attacker. I wanted to scream, Don’t! Under no circumstances should he endanger himself for me. That was unthinkable.
His voice was a low growl. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I have what I want.”
The muzzle of the gun rubbed up and down my head. Ice encased my soul, and I closed my eyes.
I opened them to meet his gaze. He’d never looked so feral, so wild. I knew with absolute certainty that this man could kill, would kill, if given the opportunity. He waited only for the right moment. But if he leaped, wolflike, surely he’d die. Even the fiercest predator was no match for a bullet.
I couldn’t live with myself if he died because of me.
He stood.
“Don’t!” I screamed.
The gun jerked away from my temple toward him, and I took the chance, possibly the only one I’d have. Jamming my spike heel down onto where I hoped the attacker’s instep would be, I used both hands to wrench the gun upwards, pointing the barrel to the ceiling.
With an inarticulate roar, he hurtled at the dark, shadowy figure, who yanked away from me, lowered the gun and shot Fletcher.
Chapter 24
I shrieked. Both the gunman and Fletch staggered back. Blood stained the shoulder of his white shirt. The report of the weapon echoed in the room.
The gun spun out of the attacker’s grasp. He’d lost his balance, and I realized that the caliber of the revolver must have been too much for him to handle with only one hand.
I kicked his crotch, then his stomach, then stomped on his head when he went down. Thank heaven for my aerobics class, where I stomped and kicked for an hour three times every week. My killer moves had become reflex actions.
I grabbed the nearest object off one of the shelves. It felt heavy and bumpy in my hand. One of Fletcher’s boxes?
I whacked the creep on the head once, twice, three times. Once for myself, once for Natalie, and once for Fletch. Fletch!
“Oh, God, Fletch!” I ran to him. He’d fallen back onto the couch, clutching his shoulder. I dropped the box.
He made a strangled cry. “My egg! My egg!”
“What? Men don’t have eggs. Are you all right?” I peered at his crotch. Wasn’t it his shoulder that had been shot?
“My Fabergé egg. You used a diamond-encrusted, solid gold Fabergé egg to brain the creep.” Standing, he fumbled unsuccessfully for the box.
“A Fabergé egg? You own a Fabergé egg?” I stared at him, amazed. If he was worried about one of his stupid boxes, that had to mean…had to mean that he wasn’t seriously hurt. “Oh, honey! You’re all right!” I flung my arms around him, hearing the solid thump of his heart beneath my ear, adoring his blessed male scent and the warm aliveness of his flesh. I framed his face in both hands, peppering it with light kisses.
He kissed back, deepening the contact between our lips until I gasped for breath. He cuddled me close with his unhurt arm and nuzzled the top of my head. “I don’t know about all right, sweetheart, but I doubt this is too bad.” Tugging away from me, he took off his shirt with a wince. He dabbed at the wound with a shirttail, grimacing. “How does it look?”
I found one of the flickering votives and moved it closer. “Actually, not too bad. It seems as though the bullet didn’t really go in, just scraped over the top part of your shoulder.”
“Good.” He slid his arms back into the shirt’s sleeves, then picked up the egg and held it up to the dim light of the votive. “Find some more candles, would you, honey? We need to see what we’re doing. Do you have any duct tape in that bag?”
He carefully replaced the egg onto its shelf and poked the gunman with his foot. He peered down. “Good Lord, Cara, this can’t be Adam Covarrubia. This is a woman!”
I gasped. “Oh, my God. Andrea!”
“The twin?”
“Yeah. She always seemed so lame and stupid to me. I never suspected that she’d be involved.”
“Why not? Ella Langer told me that they’re the Siamese twins of modeling. Where she is, he is, and vice-versa.”
“So where’s Adam?” I stared at Fletch, my mind churning. “I don’t like this line of reasoning.”
“Neither do I. Let’s deal with one problem at a time, shall we? Where’s that tape?”
I dumped the contents of the satchel onto the carpet. “Here’s masking tape and some more candles.” I lit two more votives.
“That’ll do.” Fletcher bound her hands together at her waist, then taped her ankles. “Check her for weapons, will you?”
I stooped over her limp form to pat her down. “Oh, my God.” I pulled a knife out of her back pocket, flicking the tab so the lethal-looking switchblade snapped open. “Do you think this knife killed Maggie?”
“Could be. Put it down. It’s evidence.” He picked up the phone. “Oh, good. I finally got through to 9-1-1.”
He gave directions and information to the dispatcher as I watched Andrea’s eyes blink open.
She cut me a baleful glare. “Bitch.”
“Excuse me? Hey, I’m the victim here. What did you think you were doing?”
“You screwed with my brother. Mess with him and you mess with me.” She squirmed, trying to pry her hands free.
“I believe in family loyalty, but that’s taking it a little too far.” Fletcher came to my side. “Don’t bother trying to get loose. I taped you up real tight. You’re not going anywhere until the police take you to the pokey.”
She spat at him.
He raised a brow. “Looks like I’ll have to get these pants sterilized. In the meantime, why don’t you clue us in to the situation? How did Cara shortchange Adam Covarrubia?”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
“I’m running Cara Fletcher Couture now. If there’s been a wrong, I’ll right it.”
Andrea hesitated, then apparently decided that talking to Fletcher was worth her while. “She didn’t think that Adam had the right look for Fletcher’s Gear.”
“So what?” I asked. “He’s still a top model, and so are you. He gets plenty of work.”
She shot me a bitter glance. “Not nearly as much as before, and that was the beginning of the end. Then you chose Benton for the print and T.V. advertising. You made that little snot. Adam and I lost a lot
of business.”
“You’re blaming me? Everyone knows you two have a drug problem.”
“We party. We don’t have a problem.”
“Partiers don’t carry their rigs wherever they go,” I said. “I found a syringe and drugs in the duct. Who were you partying with there?”
“Bitch. I’ll do what I want.”
“Did that include killing Maggie Andersen?” Fletcher asked.
She hesitated, a crafty look stealing over her features. “Yeah, I killed Maggie. She was getting cold feet and wanted out.”
“Wanted out of what?” I wanted to know the extent of the embezzlement, if possible. Fletch hadn’t spent hours poring over computer print-outs for nothing. “Where did the money go?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.”
I managed to stop myself from kicking her again, but it was tough. Instead, I decided to push her buttons. “You’re lying. Adam killed Maggie. You don’t have the guts for it.”
“You leave my brother out of this!” She screamed. She thrashed against her bonds, grunting with effort.
When she’d tired herself out, I said, “We already know that Maggie stole thousands from my company. She wanted to stop?”
“When you went to Europe, she knew you’d be onto her and she wanted to take what was left of the money and run. She asked Adam to ditch me and leave the country with her. Naturally, he told me.”
“What do you mean, what was left?” Fletcher asked. “I’ve been over the records. Maggie stole nearly half a million dollars.”
I gasped. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“You had a show to put on. I intended to discuss it with you in a couple of weeks, after all the excitement died down.” He poked her with a toe. “Where’s the money?”
She looked up and laughed, then made a snorting sound. “Let’s just say there are a lot of grateful little druggies in Manhattan.”
“They partied,” I said to Fletch. “They stole half a million dollars of borrowed money and put it up their noses or in their arms.”
“Meth?” Fletch asked her.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 176