Then it struck her like a death knoll.
Maybe Luke DeVries mistakenly thought he was in love this time.
Bad enough that he didn’t give her credit for all she’d done for him…that he’d never once taken her in his arms and kissed her mindless with his appreciation.
Bad enough that he’d held countless other women in his arms over the years but had never turned to her, the one woman who’d cared for him. Had made a success of him. Had committed crimes for him.
Now this.
How could he?
Swallowing hard, she felt her anger transfer from the woman…to him.
She watched his windows for what seemed like eons until he stepped out onto the metal balcony, his gaze pinned in the direction Helen had taken.
Even now the bastard was watching for the slut!
It was at that moment she knew all her love and loyalty had been for naught. At that moment she realized how thoroughly he had betrayed her.
She couldn’t let him get away with it.
Never again.
14
“HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO to get what you want?” Luke asked Flash when she entered the office the next morning.
He himself had been there practically since Helen had walked out on him. Sleep had been impossible and he hadn’t had an appetite, so he’d come here to throw himself into work.
As Flash searched through a file drawer, she said, “I don’t give myself limits.”
“Never?”
She glanced up. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“It can be if you hurt someone else.”
“In my business, feelings are subjective.”
“Actually, I didn’t mean feelings,” Luke said, her statement reminding him of Helen.
He knew she had feelings of some kind for him, so why was she being so stubborn with those damn rules of hers? What was it going to take to get her to bend?
“I meant something more tangible,” he went on. “Like another business. Or the person who owns it.”
Drawing herself up to her considerable height, Flash asked, “Are you accusing me of something?” Her voice held a touch of iciness.
“Not at all. I’m simply having a conversation with you. Suggesting some parameters. I play a straight game and expect my employees to do the same.”
He’d hoped coming at her sideways would be more effective than a head-on strike. He didn’t expect a confession, but he’d hoped he could stop any more attacks on Helen’s business. Or on the woman herself.
“I consider myself warned. Is that all?”
“One more thing—which business?” he prodded.
“What?”
“Which did you mean by ‘my business’—public relations or Hot Zone?”
“Luke, what is this all about?”
“You’re heavily invested in Hot Zone, Flash. Sometimes I think even more than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”
“Considering that it moves us from one city to another, takes the place of home and hearth and family and friends, it would be difficult to stay detached—”
Suddenly Luke realized that the way he ran his company hadn’t only affected himself but Flash and Alexis, as well. He’d taken from them what his father’s military career had taken from him.
“—but I’ll get over it,” Flash finished.
“That kind of sounds like a resignation.”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
How long had he been asleep on the job? Luke wondered. If his employees were unhappy, he should know about it. He should know about a lot of things….
He said, “Not that I blame you for trying to better your professional status, but why now?”
“Let’s just say that, despite my best efforts, I’m not where I’d planned to be at this point in my life.”
And where exactly might that be? Luke wondered. Not that he had a chance to ask.
She’d already left the room.
HELEN WAS RELIEVED by her café’s clean bill of health if not by the fine accompanying the violation. Certain that she’d been set up, she would love to shove the bill in the guilty party’s face, if only she knew who that might be. Maybe the culpable one was trying to nickel and dime her until she was forced into closing her doors.
Helen tried to concentrate on the positive.
The café was open again. Customers came in and out at a steady if not breathtaking pace. Kate had shown up within a half hour of Helen’s call.
Too bad this cloud of doom still hung over her head.
She delivered a fresh cup of coffee to Nick where he was checking his e-mail at one of the computer stations.
“What’s with the gloom and doom?” he asked, frowning when he got a look at her face.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admitted. She was angry over someone trying to kill business for her, but that wasn’t it. “I am happy that my doors are still open.”
“The big L,” Nick said. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Love is never simple.”
“When Cupid aims that arrow—”
“But I ducked.”
“Apparently not soon enough.”
Helen grunted at him and cleaned off a few tables.
The only regular around was Tilda. The old homeless woman was sitting at the window, reading a newspaper someone had left earlier. Surprising that she’d come back after her near-hysteria the other day.
Helen could only hope things would get back to normal in all respects over the next day or two. Or as normal as they could get considering someone was trying to ruin her.
That was where the gloom and doom came from. Not that she was about to argue with Nick, who became fixated on his ideas and would torture her if she tried to tell him otherwise.
But when she saw Luke come in halfway through the morning, Helen felt as if her heart had slammed up against her ribs. And felt as if a big bubble that had been welling inside her had burst at last.
Despite the reaction, she tried to act casual. “The usual?”
“I’d love the usual, but I’ll settle for a Breve. Maybe—Kate, is it?—” he said without taking his eyes off Helen, “can make it while we talk.” He indicated one of the tables away from everyone.
Knowing arguing would be useless, fearing he would make a scene if she didn’t go along with his plan, Helen said, “Fine. Kate, would you make Luke a Breve?”
“I’m on it.”
When Helen sat with Luke, she tried steering the conversation away from the personal. “Did you have that talk with your employees?”
“Only Flash. I haven’t seen Alexis yet this morning.”
“Well?”
“Nothing concrete. But I warned her.”
“I guess that’s all I can expect,” Helen said, standing.
Luke grasped her wrist. “You can expect a lot more from me, Helen, and I won’t disappoint you. At least, I’ll do my best not to.”
“Good. I can always use a friend.”
“I’m not interested in being just a friend. Sit, please.”
Reluctantly doing as he asked, she glanced at the door when the bell signaled a customer. Alexis.
She headed straight over and dropped a cell phone onto the table in front of Luke. “You left this at the Hot Zone. I thought you might need it.” She didn’t spare Helen a glance.
“Thanks, Alexis,” Luke said to her retreating figure as he stuffed the phone in his pocket.
“Now’s your chance to talk to her,” Helen said quietly.
“I’ll talk to her later in private. I would like to talk to you in private—”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“I thought you understood.”
“I understand some creeps gave you a hard time and hurt you. I’m not one of them. And it isn’t fair of you to put me in the same category.”
“I don’t. This isn’t about you—”
“The hell it isn’t! You f
eel something for me and it scares you.” The outside door opened again, but Luke wouldn’t be distracted. “It scares me, too, but I’m willing to chance anything for us to be together.”
Helen’s heart thumped and her stomach twisted into a knot. But before she could respond, Flash was at their table, waving something in the air.
“Clippings about the opening,” she said, setting down a folder in front of Luke.
“Good press?”
“Great press. And there’s more. A live radio interview.” She checked her watch. “In fifteen minutes.”
Reprieve! Helen rose.
A paper cup in each hand, Alexis stopped at the table. “Apparently this is yours,” she said, setting one down in front of her boss.
“No time for a coffee break,” Flash said. “You’ll have to bring it with you.”
“Hang on a minute!” Luke moved fast enough to catch up to Helen as she tried in vain for a clean getaway. “Can I see you tonight?”
“Busy.”
“After hours.”
“I’m spending time with my mother.” Something she’d actually been thinking about doing.
“Late, then.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Luke!” Flash called. “Twelve minutes till air time!”
Reluctantly, he backed off. “This isn’t finished.” Helen didn’t respond and Luke started for the door, saying, “Okay, let’s go.”
Alexis had already left, but Flash was there, holding his drink out to him. “Wait, your coffee.”
“I don’t want it anymore.”
“But you paid for it,” she insisted.
“Actually, I didn’t.” Luke threw a five-dollar bill at Kate. “Just leave it,” he said, before storming out the door.
Appearing frustrated, Flash set the paper cup back on the table and went after him.
“He was certainly rude,” Kate said, ringing up the sale.
“He has a lot on his mind.”
“I’ll just bet he does.”
Helen tried not to let Kate’s mood affect her but found she could get dark and broody all on her own. Keeping busy until the noon rush started would be a good idea. And the Muscle Beach Web site was just the ticket to zone out of her own troubles and zero in on something positive.
Kate approached the table where Helen had been sitting with Luke. “I thought they left the drink,” she muttered.
Indeed, the table was clear as were the others. The only paper cup in sight was the one in Tilda’s hand. Kate whipped the wet rag over the surface and Helen went to work.
Working did help her mood. And while adding the list of links, Helen stumbled on a couple of Web sites using Java that caught her interest. She bookmarked anything she thought she could use later as a model. And her sense of accomplishment at finally finishing the Web site—a first draft, anyway—made her feel more in control.
Until a long, low moan sent a ripple of unease up her spine. She turned to see what was going on. Tilda was clutching her stomach, trying to get out of her chair.
“Tilda? Are you all right?” Helen asked, scraping back her chair and hurrying over to the old woman, who was now clinging to the table for support.
“S-si-ick.”
Figuring Tilda was trying to get to the rest room, Helen took her arm. “Let me help you.”
“Dizzy,” Tilda said with a gasp.
She’d grown pale and her face shimmered with perspiration. Helen feared she was having a heart attack.
“Call 9-1-1,” she told Kate over the old woman’s protests.
Tilda wouldn’t let Helen into the rest room with her, but Helen didn’t move an inch from the door. She steeled herself against the sounds of the woman being sick and wondered what she could do to help until the paramedics arrived.
“Tilda, are you okay?” she asked.
The answer was a loud thunk, as if the woman had fallen.
“The ambulance is pulling up to the curb,” Kate said.
Pulse racing, Helen was already fumbling with her keys, unlocking the door. Dear Lord, please don’t let her be dead!
“That way,” she heard Kate say, and even as she got the door open, two paramedics were at her side.
Tilda lay on the floor, shaking.
“Seizure,” one of the paramedics said, scrambling to get inside.
Gasping, Helen stepped back and let them work. The next twenty minutes went by in a haze. Then, once again, Helen left the café in Kate’s hands as she followed the ambulance to the hospital.
The wait seemed interminable, but eventually a woman who looked younger than Helen but wore a tag that identified her as a doctor came to find her.
“Did she make it?” Helen asked.
“She’ll be all right. We’re going to keep her overnight. Do you know anything about her family?”
“I don’t even know if she has one.”
Helen suspected she was the closest thing Tilda had to family, the café the closest thing to a home for the poor woman. She explained the situation to the young doctor, who appeared disturbed.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Helen asked.
“It wasn’t her heart—she was poisoned. I’m sure the police will want to talk to you.”
“Poisoned?” a horrified Helen repeated. “But she didn’t eat anything at the café today.”
“Did she drink anything?”
“Just coffee.” Her coffee was poisoned? “What kind of poison?”
“We’ll know for certain when we have the test results, but from collective experience…we all think it might have been tetrahydrozoline, the active ingredient in some brands of eye drops and nose sprays.”
“You think someone put eye drops in her coffee?”
“As I said, we’ve seen that kind of poisoning before—usually a gang member who got his buddies angry and they punish him by making him sick. The problem is, sometimes it actually kills them. Luckily, you called the paramedics in time.”
Helen could hardly take it all in. “But…no gang members come into the café.”
Suddenly panicked, she had to do something. She couldn’t let this happen to anyone else. Wanting in the worst way to call Luke, she decided she needed to handle this one on her own and called Kate instead.
“How is Tilda?” Kate asked. “She isn’t dead, is she?”
“No, she came through it. They’re keeping her for observation till morning.”
Then what? Helen wondered. Where would poor Tilda go?
“Thank God,” Kate said.
“Has anyone else gotten sick?” Helen asked her.
“No, at least not as far as I know.”
Helen breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t serve anyone else and close up shop.”
“What? Again?”
“I’m sorry, Kate, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want anyone eating or drinking anything in the café until we know for certain what happened to Tilda.”
She didn’t want to go into it further. She didn’t need to start spreading rumors about her own establishment that might be unfounded.
Still, when the police arrived and took her statement, then interrogated her, Helen felt guilty—as if she could have prevented this somehow. And when word came that the docs had diagnosed the poisoning correctly, the cops agreed that someone from forensics needed to check out the café, just in case. They were obviously concerned that other people might be affected, as well.
After visiting Tilda and promising she would make sure her possessions were safe, Helen headed back to the café with a growing sense of doom she couldn’t shake.
HELEN HAD barely stepped out of the elevator before her mother opened the door to her apartment.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Everything, Mom.”
She walked straight into her mother’s waiting arms. But for once the fierce hug didn’t give her the expected result. She fough
t tears.
“Let’s go inside. Did you eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her mother led her straight to the pristine white kitchen and indicated a stool at the breakfast counter. “Sit.”
“Mo-o-om.”
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. Tell me what brought you here.”
While her mother busied herself putting a pot on the stove and rummaging in a cabinet for a can, Helen told her about the crazy things going on at the café, including that day’s near miss. And even though professionals had gone over her café, they hadn’t found anything to prove that Tilda had gotten sick there. Only Helen was certain that she had.
“I have the awful feeling that it’s part of someone’s plan to ruin me. But this time it’s serious. Someone could have died. If we’d actually found proof, the police would remain involved. Then there’d be an official investigation. As it is, I feel…vulnerable…like a sitting duck.”
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s terrible. No wonder you’re so upset.”
Her mother concentrated on the pot on the stove, giving Helen time to think—as if that wasn’t all she’d been doing since this happened.
Why Tilda? Because she was disposable, because no one would miss or raise a fuss over a homeless woman? Helen shuddered and tried to remember when exactly Tilda had gotten a refill of coffee.
“Have some soup,” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Chicken soup won’t make everything better.”
“No, but maybe it’ll help.”
Helen knew her mother would nag her until she put something in her stomach, so she took a spoonful of soup. Then another. She thought more about Tilda but couldn’t remember her getting a refill anytime close to when she’d gotten sick. But she had been drinking from a paper cup…
Helen realized the soup was gone.
“Better?” her mother asked.
“I’m not shaking inside anymore.”
“Well, then, it’s a start. Somehow, I don’t believe the café is your only worry. So what’s on your mind?”
“I told you.”
“You said ‘everything’ was wrong, so what else?”
Unable to meet her mother’s gaze, Helen caved. “All right. It’s Luke.”
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