Prince Charming Undercover

by Debra Salonen

  Nick agreed. So were her daughters. But what if Charles was right? Could Liz be the blackmailer? What would Yetta have to say about that?

  “Utterly ridiculous,” Yetta said twenty minutes later when Nick posed the question to her. The three of them were seated at Yetta’s kitchen table where he’d observed her four daughters sitting earlier that morning. “No one in my family is trying to get money from Charles Harmon. In fact, just the opposite is true. He’s been pressuring Grace to give up the money in her trust for this so-called remodeling project.”

  Nick knew that. “Wasn’t that Grace’s idea?”

  “Grace is full of ideas. Charles saw his chance and jumped at it. If you’re right about him being blackmailed, then isn’t it obvious why he needs the money?”

  Nick wondered if he was the only one who caught the irony of Grace giving Charles money to pay off another Romani.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Nikolai,” Yetta said. “And you’re wrong. If any of her sisters needed money, Grace would give it to them without question. We help each other out. That’s our way.”

  So everyone said. “Well, that may be, but Charles is convinced someone in this family knows his dirty little secret and he’s willing to kill to keep it from getting aired in public.”

  She looked at her folded hands. “It’s time to tell my daughters the truth.”

  “No.” Nick jumped to his feet. “Not yet.” He had no trouble picturing the look on Grace’s face when she learned not only that he’d deceived her but that he was a cop. However, risking Grace’s wrath was only part of the problem. He couldn’t jeopardize the investigation. “If word leaks, my name moves to the top of Charles’s hit list.”

  Yetta looked at Zeke. “You have to give me your word of honor that none of my daughters will be in danger.”

  The sound of a car engine in the cul-de-sac prevented Zeke from answering. Yetta rushed to the door. “It’s Grace. She looks upset. I hope she didn’t notice your car in the street.”

  She grabbed Zeke’s hand and pulled him to the side door. “Go quickly.”

  The older man disappeared like a shadow in fog.

  Nick returned to his seat while Yetta poured a cup of coffee and put it in the microwave. “She was supposed to meet Charles after lunch. I didn’t expect her back so soon.”

  A car door slammed. Grace walked in and stopped short when she spotted him. Even without special cognitive powers, Nick could tell she was upset. “Hi. I got off early. Your mom invited me over for coffee,” he said, ad-libbing.

  Grace looked at Yetta, who responded to the beep-beep-beep of the microwave. “Would you care to join us, dear? I could make a fresh pot.”

  “No. Thank you. I…I’ll be in my house. Headache. Traffic. Gotta go.”

  She pivoted on the heel of her low-heeled shoe. Her dressy black slacks ended at midcalf. Beneath her suit jacket, the white shell she was wearing almost matched her skin tone.

  Too pale. Something’s wrong. Very wrong. “Did you talk to the boss man today?”

  The hand holding her purse shook. She looked over her shoulder. “Y…yes. A quick business discussion.” A telltale blush crept up her neck.

  “Alexandra said you planned to tell him that Katherine’s lawyer is looking over the contract,” Yetta said as she delivered Nick’s coffee. “I’m sure he wasn’t happy. Sit down and tell us how it went.”

  Grace shook her head. “Later. I have a headache.”

  “Grace,” Yetta said sharply. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Nick took a sip of coffee, trying to stay in the background. He watched Grace over the rim of his cup and saw when she gave in. Her eyes filled with tears which she blinked away. “I don’t know what to do, Mom. I went to Charles’s suite because he told me he was going to be working at home this afternoon. He wasn’t there,” she said, swallowing loudly. “But Lydia and Reezira were.”

  Nick’s pulse spiked.

  “Who?”

  “Two young women. Charles says they’re illegal immigrants. He said he’s helping them until they get work permits, but…”

  “You don’t believe him,” Nick said. “I heard a rumor about a couple of working girls from Canada. I kind of laughed it off because Chuck comes across as such a cold fish. Who’d have guessed?”

  “This isn’t about Charles’s sex life. I don’t give a damn about that. But I don’t want to get the women into trouble, either. Being here illegally makes them vulnerable, and men take advantage of vulnerable women.”

  Somehow he knew that applied to her, too. Now he was worried. Something happened today. Something beyond discovering prostitutes in Charles’s room.

  “So call the police,” he said, just to gauge her reaction.

  She pressed her hand to her heart. “Are you crazy? The heartless bastards would either throw the poor girls in jail or deport them. Charles would probably talk his way out of everything. He might even have cops working for him. You know, on the dole.”

  If you only knew, sweetheart.

  She looked at her mother. “Maybe Liz knows how to find some kind of amnesty group. I tried her cell but it went straight to voice mail.”

  He shrugged as if her problems didn’t faze him in the least. “Yeah, well, sounds like you ladies have your hands full. Guess I’ll go crash. Thanks, Yetta.”

  Nick took his time strolling to Claude’s house. His stomach churned—and not from Yetta’s reheated coffee. Grace had made her feelings about his profession crystal clear—cops were heartless bastards or on the take. He had no doubt how she’d feel about him once he arrested Charles and took the two prostitutes into custody.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have any choice. That was who he was.

  “Mom? What’s going to happen? What should I do?”

  Yetta heard the desperation in her youngest daughter’s voice. She also was aware of how the question was phrased. Grace wanted her to look into the future for answers. But how could she when she no longer trusted her visions? What good was second sight when I had no warning of my own husband’s stroke?

  She walked to Grace and grasped her shoulders firmly. “I don’t need clairvoyance to know that you’ll do the right thing. Listen to your heart.”

  “My heart is in worse shape than my head, Mom.” Her bleak tone nearly broke Yetta’s heart. “If I do what I think I should do, the people I love most will be hurt. If I do what Charles wants me to do, everyone will be mad at me.”

  Yetta knew then that Grace’s agony wasn’t just about two displaced women. Somehow the family was involved.

  “Come and sit down, dear. We need to talk.”

  Grace tried to back away but bumped into the coat-rack. If Yetta closed her eyes, she could picture Kingston’s jacket hanging on the first hook. His spot. Lord, how she missed that man. She’d loved him completely, despite his flaws.

  “Grace,” Yetta said softly, “your father predicted this day would come. In a way, he prepared us both for it.”

  Grace’s expression changed from wary to curious. Of all her daughters, Grace had always been the easiest to read.

  Once they were seated opposite each other, Yetta took a deep breath. Delving into the past was never easy. Although it was a cliché, times had changed. What Kingston had done when the opportunity arose was not something he would have done today. She was certain of that. But how could she make her daughter—the baby of the family who worshipped her father—understand?

  Grace shifted uneasily in her chair. She didn’t like the resigned look on her mother’s face. Her gut told her she didn’t want to hear what Yetta was about to say. What she really wanted—and had since the minute she walked in the door and spotted Nikolai sitting at the table—was to run to him. The enormity of her need had left her unnerved and flustered. Was it shelter in his strong muscles and broad shoulders that she sought, or escape of another kind? A chance to lose herself in sexual bliss? Neither option was a good idea.

  “Grace?”

  The question
in Yetta’s tone made Grace’s cheeks heat up. Probably not a good thing to think about sex in the presence of an intuitive mother. “Sorry. I had a bit of a shock this afternoon. My mind is all over the place.”

  “A shock. Yes, I suppose finding out that your father was human could be pretty devastating to someone who always believed her daddy could do no wrong.”

  “D…Dad? Who said anything—?” She stopped. Even as a child she’d known it was useless to lie to her mother. The woman knew things. Everything. “You knew?”

  Yetta shook her head. “Not at the time.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “So many reasons. Excuses, I guess. My father had just passed on. And your grandmother was declining so fast. I had two daughters in high school. You and Kate were involved in so many activities. Dance, karate, soccer. Later, when I found out what Kingston had done, I realized that deep down I’d suspected something wasn’t right but I chose to ignore my fears.”

  Her tone was so haunted Grace had no choice but to believe her. Still… “But, Mom, you’re Puri Dye. You know everything.”

  Her mother’s silver hair, worn loose today, shifted about her shoulders as she shook her head sadly. “When you’re a mother, you’ll understand. The intensity of your focus shifts to your children during their formative years. Your husband has to bear the burden of providing shelter, food, safety, as well as planning for the future. Some men—even the most honorable—can become so caught up in the challenge, they make choices they later regret.”

  Grace forced herself to ask, “Charles was right, then? Dad took a bribe?”

  Yetta’s chin lifted. “Yes. At the time, he said the money was winnings. I knew he’d been gambling more than normal. I wasn’t happy about it because the chances of losing are equally great, but the money seemed to keep pouring in. Kingston always said that when you were on a roll, you didn’t dare turn your back on Lady Luck.”

  Grace nodded. She’d heard him say those words many times.

  “We declared the money as income and paid taxes on it. Kingston hired an estate planner to set up the trusts for you girls. I ignored any niggling hint of doubt by allowing my life to keep me distracted.”

  “When did you find out the truth?”

  “Just before he died. I knew his time was near and I could tell that he was in great pain—not physical, but emotional. I sang him a song that my mother sang to my father before he passed on. I don’t even know what the words mean, but I believe it conveys forgiveness for one’s sins.”

  She hummed the tune softly, then closed her eyes and said, “He only wanted what was best for his family. He never intended to cheat Charles. He planned to make up the difference in time, but Charles was impatient. Kingston’s biggest regret was that we would be inheriting Charles’s antipathy, and his illness left him unable to do anything about it. He’d failed to protect his family. The humiliation, I believe, was what killed him.”

  Grace’s eyes filled with tears. The memory of those months between her father’s stroke and his death came rushing back. So often, she’d sensed his frustration and had attributed it to not being able to walk and talk well. Maybe he’d been agonizing over what he knew his wife and daughters would be facing down the road—Charles, his greedy, pissed-off ex-partner.

  No. Charles killed him.

  Grace reached across the table and gripped her mother’s hand. Yetta didn’t need to relive the horror of that day. Nor, as Charles said, was there any way to prove that he had caused her father to fall and hit his head.

  “Mom, Charles is threatening to make this public if I don’t hand over the money. Dad’s reputation will be ruined. He worked so hard to improve the Romani image. I can’t let that happen.”

  Her mother frowned. She didn’t speak for a good minute. “I need to think about this, Grace. So much is happening on other levels…” Her voice trailed off.

  Grace felt a shiver of awareness. She studied her mother’s face. “Mom, you’re not telling me something.”

  Yetta looked over Grace’s shoulder toward the coat-rack and smiled. “Yes, dear, you’re right. Now, I need to go pick up Maya. She and I are going fish shopping.”

  “Fish? Like halibut? Salmon?”

  “Goldfish. I’ve decided to buy an aquarium. Maya’s been asking for one ever since they released the Finding Nemo sequel.”

  Grace wasn’t surprised. Her niece had made her watch both movies about a dozen times. “Good. That will make her happy. But, what should I do about Charles?”

  Her mother was already halfway out the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “Perhaps you should ask Nikolai for advice. There’s more to him than you think.”

  More to him than I think? I think about him more than I should. I want to know more— She consciously broke off the thought. Turning to Nikolai for advice or anything else was not a good idea. She couldn’t allow him to influence her decisions. Especially when her life was such a mess.

  Suddenly feeling light-headed, she stumbled to her feet. What just happened? Her mother had confessed knowing a secret that could blow their world to bits, then blithely trotted off to buy fish.

  “Fish,” she muttered, as she exited the house through the patio door.

  Oh, Daddy, how could you do this? Suddenly blinded by tears of grief, loss and disappointment, she bumped into a lawn chair that wasn’t pushed up to the patio table.

  “Damn. Damn. Damn.” She kicked the chair so hard it fell over and nearly skidded into the pool.

  “Whoa. Somebody’s pissed off.”

  She spun about to locate the voice. Nikolai. Head and shoulders peering at her above the cinder-block fence that separated the two yards. “Are you spying on me?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  She ignored the question and marched to the door of her little trailer. She opened it with such force the aluminum screen slammed against the metal siding and bounced back, hitting her shoulder.

  “Stupid thing.” She yanked it closed behind her. Once inside, she bent over like a marathon runner who’d just finished a ten-K meet.

  “The past is past,” she whispered out loud. “Dad did what he thought was right. Well, maybe not right, but necessary.” Her stomach churned. An acrid taste filled her mouth. She wanted to weep but was afraid if she started she might not be able to stop. “Just let it go. Let it go.”

  She picked up a glass she’d left on the counter, filled it from the tap and took a tentative sip. The door behind her opened after the softest of knocks. Grace spun around, spilling water down the front of her top.

  Nikolai loomed in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  Grace set down the glass behind her and crossed her arms. This was her home. Her sanctuary. “None of your business. Go away.”

  He stepped across the threshold, ducking his head to clear the doorway.

  “No.” Grace glanced about for a weapon. She grabbed the only thing handy. A plastic wand adorned with silver and purple tassels. She’d bought it for Maya and had forgotten to give it to her. She pointed it at his chest.

  Nikolai stopped. He looked at the toy then lifted his head and gave her a sardonic smile. “Are you going to turn me into a toad?”

  “Or worse. Now, please, leave me alone. I’ve had a bad day.”

  “So, tell me about it. Isn’t that what friends—and family—are for?” He leaned one shoulder against the open doorframe.

  Grace heard the hint of sarcasm in his tone. She poked him harder, this time bending over the cardboard stars at the tip of the wand. “We’re not related, remember?”

  His fingers closed around the wand and he tugged, making her take a step closer. “That’s right. So pretending you’re not feeling this chemistry between us is a bit cowardly for a princess, isn’t it?”

  Grace didn’t want to talk about the attraction she felt toward him. She let go of the wand and walked into what she euphemistically called her living room. It consisted of a three-sided couch that she’d covered with fak
e fur. Accent pillows adorned with spangles and plastic jewels matched the multihued scarves that made up her curtains. She’d repapered the walls in a metallic gold foil.

  She sat down, pulling a persimmon-colored pillow onto her lap. “I’m not a princess. And my dad sure as heck wasn’t a king.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move closer to her. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Forget it. I don’t care what my mother says—I’m not talking to you. For all I know, you have some ulterior motive for being here.”

  “What do you mean? I’m here because your mother invited me.”

  “True, but you have a hidden agenda, and, frankly, I’m sick to death of secrets.”

  He closed the door and tossed the wand on the table. Resting his hip on the table of her built-in dining nook, he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Grace hugged the pillow to keep her heart from spilling out of her chest. “You came here for payback. On the Romani.”

  He looked baffled. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t have any gripes against your family.”

  Grace moved to her knees. “Oh, really? You don’t think my family let you down when you were a child?”

  He shook his head and threw out his hands as if words failed him. “No.”

  “Even after your sister convinced you we were a bunch of marauding thieves?”

  His lips flattened in a frown. “All kids have fantasies. They outgrow them.”

  “Right, but can you honestly say that you came here expecting to like us?”

  He opened his mouth but no words came out. Which answered Grace’s question.

  “I thought so.”

  Nikolai pulled out a chair from the small table and turned it backwards and sat down. “Listen. I might not have thought much about your family when I first got here, but that’s changed. I know that your mother is a good person. If she could have done something to stop my f…birth father from giving me away, she would have.”

  Grace clutched the pillow. His tone sounded sincere, but her ability to trust had been compromised almost to the breaking point. She sank back against the cushions and closed her eyes. “You’re right. She would have. But you were probably better off being raised by the gadjos anyway.”