Nana let go of Stormee’s hand and straightened in her chair. “For sure, a wounded animal is most dangerous. If approached, it may strike with fatal force. However, which is better, a decisive ending, or a lifetime to suffer regret and the torture of what-if’s?”
****
Stormee slid into the front seat of her car and let her grandmother’s shocking words ricochet around her brain. The ringtone coming from her purse saved her from sinking into despair.
“Hello.”
“Hello. Have I reached Stormee Waters?”
“Yes.”
I’m Mrs. Clark from S.F.I. I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Savage.
“Yes.” Stormee held her breath.
“Mr. Savage has requested you meet him at his office at the first available opportunity. He has an opening in his schedule at four-thirty this afternoon. Can you make that appointment?”
“Wha—what is this concerning?” She moistened her dry lips with her tongue.
“I don’t have the details, but Mr. Savage did say to tell you it concerned someone named Nana. Should I tell him to expect you?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.” His sudden request aroused a familiar inadequacy. Doubtless, he wouldn’t wish to speak to her unless an urgent matter existed. She didn’t need to be adequate, just coherent. Get whatever information he sought to give her about her grandmother and leave. “Keep the situation simple, Stormee,” she whispered, “simple.”
Why did she dread the encounter? The image of a sleek, black panther with strong muscles tensed and ready to attack flashed through her mind. Before she could get more ridiculous, Stormee shoved the key into the ignition and drove out of the parking lot.
At four-forty, she arrived at S.F.I., sprinted up the paved walkway, and entered the office complex. The lobby was empty save for a graceful redhead who headed straight for her.
“Are you Miss Waters?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to be late, the traffic was—”
“No matter. Let’s move on.” The deep breath and stern look on the woman’s face said Stormee had already wasted quite enough of Dirk’s precious time. “Mr. Savage must leave for another appointment in just a few minutes. Please follow me.”
Feeling like a chastised school child, Stormee scurried behind the woman whose long legs outdistanced her own stride. Unlike her last visit, she didn’t take time to admire the oddities of the interior, but kept her gaze trained on the back of her guide. Uncertainty leveled up her nervousness when the woman passed the offices and took the elevator, punching the top floor button.
Mere seconds later, the doors retracted. With tight lips and a simple hand gesture, her silent companion indicated Stormee should vacate the lift—alone.
She entered a room furnished more like a high-dollar penthouse than an office. The man she most, and least, wanted to see stood across the room staring like a hawk that had just spotted its next meal.
“Come in, Miss Waters.”
His invitation, while coupled with a half-smile, sounded terse to Stormee’s ears. She did as he asked and waited as he crossed the room toward her.
“Of necessity, I will get straight to the point. The matter concerns your grandmother.” He placed the envelope he’d been holding in her hand.
Stormee opened her mouth to speak but Dirk’s deep voice sliced away the brief opportunity.
“Please don’t say anything until I’ve finished.”
She nodded.
“In those papers, you’ll find detailed information about your grandmother’s early life and the circumstances surrounding the death of your parents. After reading the report, you will, I hope, understand the need to act with haste.”
He did a background check? Her thoughts whirled. “But…” Stormee sputtered.
He silenced her with a swift lift of his right hand. “In short, your grandmother possesses a fortune in uncut diamonds bestowed by her late husband. Your grandfather was an adventurous type, being what you’d call a soldier of fortune. How he came to own the gems isn’t clear, but the family of a former associate has tried throughout the years to gain access to them. Their criminal methods may be responsible for putting those close to you in harm’s way and, at present, is an immediate threat to you and your family. I collected the diamonds from your grandmother and put them in a safety deposit box. The account number and access code are in the report.”
“Wait—wait.” She waved her hands in the air. “What diamonds? We don’t own any diamonds!”
His dark brows slanted in a frown. “You’ve been handling them for years. In their uncut state, you didn’t recognize their true nature. Your grandmother, in all probability, meant to reveal their existence. But with her diminishing mental capacity getting worse, the reality of what she possesses has morphed into an obsessive affection.”
“You’re not making sense! The only thing Nana obsesses over is her rocks.” She went still, and the word wedged in Stormee’s throat. “Rocks…?”
“More specific—the Blues.” His firm voice left no room for argument. “You can make whatever decision you want. To insure the safety of your family, however, I suggest you sell the diamonds as soon as possible. You’ll find contact information for several reputable buyers in the report.”
An avalanche of confusion tumbled Stormee’s thoughts. “I don’t know what to say…” She rubbed a hand over her forehead.
“I suggest you hire a legal and financial advisor.” He stepped forward and gestured toward the elevator. “I believe this concludes our business. My receptionist is waiting at ground level to escort you out.”
His dismissive reply left her stunned as he walked past her and pressed the button on the elevator panel. The door opened, signaling her dismissal. She managed to walk the short distance without faltering and entered the small enclosure. Her hands shook and perspiration dampened her neck.
The deserted lobby gave some respite as she followed the receptionist to the front entrance and waited for her to manipulate the already locked door. She managed not to run, but hurried to escape the building and find refuge in her vehicle. She sat in the car’s sweltering heat and let the scene replay in her mind. Like a stranger settling an unpleasant business deal, cold-blooded and emotionless, he’d showed her no crumb of his previous affection.
Stormee forced herself to complete necessary errands before returning home. Fueling the car, picking up the dry cleaning, and a quick trip to the grocery store filled the next two hours. Keeping busy made the prospect of reading the report when she got home seem less daunting.
The pizza in the seat next to her, with its rich cheesy smell, didn’t do much for her queasy stomach. But Josh would be satisfied and she wouldn’t be subjected to more starvation complaints.
The security lights around the apartment complex came on as she parked in front of her building. She snagged her purse, Dirk’s envelope, the pizza, two bags of groceries, and struggled up the walkway.
Entering a dark apartment sent a queer shiver up her spine. She dismissed the feeling and walked to the kitchen and deposited her stash on the counter top. Her missing brother was most likely in his room buried in some video game. Too bad—she wasn’t about to carry seven more grocery bags by herself.
She knocked twice and opened his door. The unturned window shades allowed the outside light to illuminate the chaos. Josh had never been neat, but this was different. Drawers and closet appeared as though they’d vomited out their content. Even his mattress lay on the floor beside the bed.
She threw open the bathroom door without thought of privacy. Calling his name, she ran from one empty room to another, switching on lights and finding the same upheaval everywhere. Someone had ransacked her entire apartment. Where is Josh? Then she saw what chilled her blood. Josh’s cell phone lay atop a piece of folded white paper on the couch, the alert light flashing a missed call.
Severe fright struck her stomach with the impact of a meteor. Her shaking legs buckled, plopping her on the couch next to the ph
one. Josh might have left the note, but he’d never willingly leave behind his cell phone. The muscles in her forearm quivered as she reached for the folded piece of paper.
Bring the diamonds before midnight! Come alone! Call the police and your brother will suffer! Bldg. 7—Industrial Complex, Enterprise Circle.
Spasmodic trembling started in her shoulders and worked down her body. One name flashed persistently on the edge of her reason. Dirk Savage. He was Josh’s only hope. Her fingers felt numb as she clutched the phone and entered his private business number.
“Strike Force. Please state the purpose of your call,” stated the detached business voice.
“This is Stormee Waters. I need to speak to Mr. Savage.”
“Hello, Miss. Waters. This is Skeeter. Mr. Savage isn’t available at this time. If you’d care to give me your contact information, I’ll give it to him as soon as possible.”
“Skeeter,” Stormee’s fingers tightened around her cell phone, “Please, I must talk to Dirk. It’s an emergency.” Her voice broke with desperation.
“Mr. Savage is attending a social engagement this evening. But I’m sure I can get him your message at his location. Is this the number where you want to be reached?”
“NO! NO! I don’t want him to return my call. I need to see him in person, NOW! It’s a life-or-death situation.” Tears choked her next words. “Josh is in trouble. Please help me.”
A long silence followed her plea. She didn’t know what else to say, so she waited.
“Miss Waters, can you find the Excalibur 33 Club?”
“Yes. I’ll locate it.” She shook with relief and swiped a tear from her cheek.
“Mr. Savage is meeting some friends there this evening. This is the best I can do for you. But one word of caution. Dirk hasn’t been in the kindest of moods since leaving Chicago. So tread carefully. Do you understand?”
His reply, tight with restraint and an ambiguous warning, shocked her back to reality. Dirk Savage considered her a dead issue, one he’d made clear had been permanently shelved. How could she even think about asking him for help? Fear lodged painfully in her throat. How could she not?
Chapter Eight
After three wrong turns, the Excalibur 33 Club finally came into view. She glanced at her watch—only four hours left until midnight.
She slipped out of the car, crossed the street on shaky legs, and hurried toward the club’s front entrance. The couples ahead of her paused to show their membership card to the door attendants. Without a similar card, she’d never be admitted as a guest; her press card would, for sure, get her blocked. She racked her brain for a viable plan. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just needed to work.
She brushed the lint from her skirt and straightened her stance. Approaching the two men guarding the coveted entrance, she nodded, then spoke with solid conviction. “I’m Stormee Waters, Dirk Savage’s personal secretary. I have instructions to deliver an important document to him.”
She patted the side of her purse in hopes the gesture would add weight to her lie. A strong urge to continue talking fought with her common sense, which required she stay quiet and let the two guardians mull over their options.
“If you’ll give me the document, I’ll see that it is delivered to Mr. Savage.” The assertive man in the black suit held out his hand.
A smidgeon of relief weakened her knees as she inched closer to success. She raised one eyebrow and wiped any trace of a smile from her lips. “I’m sorry, but that is impossible. My instructions are to hand it over in person. Anything less would get me fired, and…” She paused to let her gaze slide over the man in front of her, from his head to his polished black shoes. “Most likely, you would experience the same outcome, as Mr. Savage is not known for his patience.”
The man chewed on the inside of his lip and stared at her in stony silence.
Stormee lifted her chin and glared back with equal veracity. When she spotted him darting his eyes toward his companion, she knew she’d won the skirmish. But, the battle still lay ahead.
“Take her to Mr. Savage in room eleven.” With that statement, he turned his attention to a group who’d just walked up, dismissing her altogether.
Almost giddy with triumph, Stormee followed the second man through the semi-quiet bar area into the much louder central lounge and dance floor. The whole area pulsed with the tempo of a Latin song played by the band on stage. Dancers gyrated in every conceivable contortion. She barely managed to avoid colliding with a few as she and her escort skirted the dance floor and headed toward a room-sized alcove on the left.
In the private niche, four couples lounged on divans arranged around a low, round table filled with drinks and party snacks. Her security escort paused at the room’s entrance and pointed to a spot on the floor. Indicating she should stay put, he advanced another few feet into the alcove.
“Mr. Savage, I’m sorry to disturb you, but your secretary has arrived to make the delivery you requested.” He pointed toward where she stood.
Her bravado shrunk with the speed of a punctured balloon. Fighting her anxiety, she waited for Dirk’s reaction.
Dirk shifted his attention from the attentive woman snuggled in his lap to the security attendant. “What in blue-blazes are you talking about?”
The slightly slurred retort worried Stormee. Sober, he was daunting enough. She didn’t even want to think what he might be like under the influence of alcohol. Did it matter if he turned into a laser-eyed, two-headed monster? Josh’s safety still depended on her enlisting his help.
The confused escort motioned toward her. “Isn’t this your secretary?”
Dirk peered in the direction the man indicated, his face clouded in confusion. He blinked once before the bewilderment gave way to disbelief. Like a missile with an acquired target, his gaze locked on hers. He eased the woman off his lap, crossed his legs, and stretched both his arms to rest easily along the sofa’s back edge. Seconds dragged by like minutes.
This is how a condemned prisoner must feel right before receiving the lethal injection that will end his life. She could almost feel the sting of the needle.
“You’ve made a serious mistake. This woman is not my secretary. I suggest you show her the exit.” Dirk’s frigid voice projected across the space between them, no hint of a slur as he addressed the door attendant.
A hand gripped Stormee’s arm, the fingers digging into her flesh. A hard tug yanked her backward, the unexpected action destroying her balance and landing her in a heap on the floor. She scrambled toward the round table. “Wait. Stop! I must talk to Mr. Savage!” She heard a crack over her head, like the sound of wood splintering.
The attendant landed on the tile flooring next to her.
“Keep your hands off her.” Dirk stood over the man, his fists tight, and his eyes glowing with fury.
Stormee squealed in surprise as he bent and lifted her to her feet in one swift tug. He gripped one of her wrists and pulled her toward a door in the back of the room, down a narrow hall, and through an exit to the alley. She yelped again as he spun her to face him and pushed her back against the building, placing his hands on either side of her head.
Trapped, scared, and drowning in despair, she sobbed, “Hel—help me.”
“Lady, you’ve got a lot of nerve. The last I remember, you didn’t want any part of me, or my help. I’ll do you a favor and walk away. Do yourself a kindness, and don’t look me up again.” His body pressed toward hers as he flexed his elbows and pushed away from the wall.
He’d put ten feet between them before she forced a sobbing plea from her throat. “Please, don’t leave me.”
He froze in place, one hand fisted at his side, the other gripping the back of his neck.
Without taking time to reconsider, she did what instinct dictated. She surged forward and flung herself against his back, wrapping both arms around his waist like a harness.
He stumbled, then braced his feet wide apart.
She pressed tighter
against his back, refusing to loosen her grip.
His stomach muscles tightened under her fingers. With little effort, he pried her hands from around his waist and turned to give her a penetrating look. He grasped her shoulders and gave her a jolting shake.
Startled, she looked upward in surprise—and wished she hadn’t.
His brows pulled toward one another, leaving a severe, uncompromising crease between his eyes. “This makes no sense, Stormee. Why would you track me down? What’s wrong with you?” He moved her body backward, an arm’s length from his.
She fought the trepidation that hindered her efforts to push words past her chattering teeth. Clutching a throat that ached with despair, she vocalized one word. “Dirk…”
****
He’d dreamed about hearing his name on her lips, in just that way, with her soul bared and her voice heavy with need. This woman had never been easy to understand, but this time, she confounded him completely. He yanked her forward, not leaving a molecule of air between them. Nestling her in the fold of his arms, he waited for her body to stop trembling, then edged them both toward the side of the building and braced his back against its solid mass.
Her tears tore through his shielded emotions. Their wetness penetrated the linen fabric of his shirt and seeped all the way to his traitorous heart. Had he really believed he could walk away from her?
Her body leaned heavily on his, the shaking and sobbing finally giving way to soft sighs. Her cheek caressed his chest as she lifted her face and stared up at him through tear-drenched lashes.
“I—I love you.”
The unexpected declaration siphoned the blood from his head as she stroked him with her eyes.
A full three seconds passed before he realized the new sensation warming his lips was the soft texture of her sweet mouth. She kissed him with a fervor that belied her inexperience, communicating a need that didn’t require words.
The last thread holding his resistance intact unraveled under her surrendered lips. He accepted what she offered, devouring her mouth with fevered eagerness. She quivered and pressed her open lips harder against his.
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