Entrapment Page 22

  I waved him off as I found my bra and panties and put them on. “I-I can’t deal with this, not until both she and my mom are safe.”

  “We’ll get her. I’ll send Isaac right now and then your mom.”

  I shook my head. “No, Chelsea is staying at Montague Manor. Isaac can’t get close.”

  Stepping into my dress, I pulled the arms up over my shoulders, smoothed the skirt, and walked to the mirror. My hair was a mess—a sexy mess but a mess nevertheless. Ignoring Nox’s pleas, I combed my curls, using my fingers, and straightened it the best I could. Finding lipstick in my purse, I applied a coat.

  The diamond mocked me from the bottom of the handbag. Snapping the purse shut, I turned. “Goodbye.”

  Nox was now wearing his trousers, but his belt was unbuckled and his chest was beautifully displayed. I imagined how nice it would be to fall back into his embrace, absorb his woodsy scent and hibernate in his arms, to just allow life to go on outside my safe enclosure. Instead I stood resolute. “I need to leave.”

  “Not like this,” he said. “I don’t want you going like this.”

  My watch said otherwise. Patrick was probably waiting. Just as I was about to protest, Nox’s phone chimed. Struggling to remove his eyes from me, he walked to his phone and lifted it.

  After reading the text, he said, “It’s Patrick.” Defeat showed in his eyes and rang in his tone.

  I may not be a princess and Nox may not be Prince Charming, but the clock had struck midnight. My time had run out. Straightening my shoulders, I repeated, “I need to go.”

  In two strides he was back, his hands encircling my waist as he bent forward. His nose neared mine. “Princess, I could make you stay.”

  “Tie me to the bed? Sorry, Nox, I’m no longer in the mood.”

  His chest grew as he inhaled. “This doesn’t change a thing. This is over tomorrow. Tell me you’ll be on that road. Tell me that tomorrow night I’ll fall asleep with you in my arms.”

  “I’ll do what’s best, Nox. That’s all I can promise.”

  “MR. DEMETRI?” DELORIS WITT said, her inflection sounding more like a question, as if she were somewhat surprised I’d be knocking on the door to her hotel suite.

  It wasn’t like we had offices here in Savannah. We were dealing with the hand we’d been dealt. When she didn’t ask me in, I went ahead with my current concern. “Where is he?”

  If anyone knew Lennox’s location, it would be her. Over the years, I’d had my doubts as to how efficient this woman was with the tasks Lennox entrusted to her care. After all, I’d witnessed more than a few of her blunders. Then again, I’d witnessed her successes. No matter which, I didn’t doubt her loyalty to Lennox. That alone made her an invaluable employee.

  However, as she stood resolute in the doorway, it seemed that her devotion to my son did not extend to me. As a matter of fact, it was obvious she didn’t trust me, evident by the unnecessary amount of time she spent double-checking any information I shared.

  While that would make some men suspicious, it moved Deloris Witt up a notch in my book. She was correct: I wasn’t the most trustworthy person. I’d been known to do whatever needed to be done, damn the cost.

  That said, I had my limits—hard limits. Doing anything to screw over my son or my own company were on top of that list. By the way her eyes narrowed, Deloris Witt didn’t know that. The way I saw it, by not trusting me she was showing good instincts. That was a person to have in Lennox’s corner.

  “Mr. Demetri, Lennox is indisposed at this time.”

  “What the hell does indisposed mean? I need to see him.”

  I opened my hand to reveal a pen drive—thirty-two gigs of information that no doubt took a certain secretary from Hamilton and Porter more than a few hours to scan. Many of the documents were pictures while others were hastily scanned with a hand scanner. I didn’t give a damn how I got the information, as long as I got it.

  The bar was tucked away from the historic, touristy area of Savannah. I saw Natalie Banks as soon as I entered, seated at the bar, wearing a plain blue dress and looking a little bit haggard. Easing up onto the empty stool beside her, I put my hands on the bar and looked straight ahead. Behind the rows of bottles was a mirror. There were golden scrolled letters upon the framed glass, but I couldn’t make out their message as many were faded beyond recognition. I wasn’t looking at the letters; I was looking at Natalie. Through the old mirror I made out her expression.

  I wouldn’t say she was happy to see me.

  “Did you get it?” I asked quietly, still looking toward the mirror.

  She didn’t turn my way. “Do you have any idea what Mr. Porter or Mr. Hamilton would do…?”

  “My answer’s the same as it was last night. I don’t care. The consequences are inconsequential to me, other than what will happen if you don’t produce the documents I want.”

  “I have some money. My parents left me a small life insurance policy…”

  She stopped talking, looking down into her drink as the bartender approached.

  “Drink?” he asked.

  For the first time, I turned toward Natalie and sized up what was in her glass. Based on the small size, it was strong and on the rocks. “Do you have Corsair?”

  “Triple Smoke.”

  “I’ll take it neat and another drink for the lady. Give her a double of whatever she’s drinking.”

  Natalie’s shoulders slumped before she looked up from the glass and nodded. As soon as the bartender walked away, she continued, “The policy isn’t a lot, especially to you, I’m sure, but I can pay more… like on credit?”

  I reached for a handful of peanuts from the little wooden bowl. Popping one in my mouth, I laughed. “No, I’m doing you a favor. Being indebted to me isn’t what you want.”

  “I could lose my job. Worse… if Mr. Fitz—”

  “Shhh,” I growled under my breath. “I don’t want to hear his name or have anything to do with that man. This isn’t about him.”

  In the reflection I watched her eyes close.

  “It was wrong,” she confessed. “I knew when I was doing it, but I had to. He said I did.”

  She’d given me a synopsis last night at her home. While it may have been under a bit of duress, I’d found that, in general, information was often more accurate that way. Surprise interrogations didn’t give people time to manufacture a story. Believable lying took time and effort. Telling the truth was much easier. And when people were put in a heated situation, it was usually the ugly truth that boiled to the top.

  “You worked to gaslight Mrs. Fitzgerald…” I almost choked on the name. “…made the woman believe she was crazy, falsified legal documents, transferred her rights to her husband, and you’re concerned that talking to me will risk your job?”

  She lifted the glass, brought it to her lips, and drank. She didn’t stop until the last bits of ice clanked in the otherwise empty tumbler. The way she grimaced and her neck tightened told me that whatever she was drinking wasn’t her usual drug of choice.

  Briefly she turned my direction. I didn’t look into her eyes—the emotion or lack of it wasn’t my concern. I was the monster and she was the prey. Nothing else mattered.

  “No, Mr. Demetri,” she said. “I’m not concerned about my job; it’s my soul I’m worried about.”

  My cheeks rose as she turned back to the mirror. Meeting her gaze, I replied, “Then consider this your good deed, your repentance for sins otherwise unatoned for. Tell me, who else knows what you and your boss did… well, other than the husband.”

  “No one. Well…”

  The bartender stepped up, placing the drinks in front of us. I reached into my pocket and laid a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. He nodded and walked away.

  “Well?” I prompted.

  “There was this intern who worked with Mrs. Fitzgerald. He doesn’t know what we did, but he knows about the codicil.”

  “Is he still employed by your firm?”

  She shook h
er head as she lifted the glass and spun her wrist. “No. Another reason to worry about my soul.”

  “Then it seems that redemption is due.”

  “Please, don’t tell anyone where you got it.”

  “Where I got what?”

  Part of me expected copies, maybe boxes of papers. Instead, she reached into her purse and removed a pen drive. Though technology was wonderful, I would have liked to be able to see proof of what she was delivering. “How do I know this contains what I want it to contain?”

  “Because, Mr. Demetri, you know where I live, where I work, and as you mentioned last night, where my niece attends school. She’s a baby.”

  “Yes, beautiful girl. Not really a baby. Eleven, correct?” Before she could answer, I added, “That’s a woman in many cultures.”

  Natalie sat taller though her shoulders resumed their slump. “It’s all there. I haven’t slept since your visit. It took me most of the night and some stolen time today, but I promise it’s all there, even the power of attorney.”

  I lifted my hand, drawing the bartender’s attention, tipped my glass and drained the contents—rich smoke with a hint of cherry and beech. Not bad for an American single malt.

  “Another, sir?”

  “No, I believe I’m done.” I tapped the C-note.

  “Change?”

  I shook my head. “Nice doing business with you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I stood, pushing in the barstool. “Until we meet again, Ms. Banks.”

  “I hope not,” Natalie said, low enough for only me to hear.

  Winking in the mirror, I added, “Take care of that pretty niece.”

  Still standing at the door, Mrs. Witt looked at her watch. “I expect him soon.”

  “May I come in?” It seemed like a foregone conclusion, but obviously only to me.

  Deloris stepped back and opened the door wider. The front room of her suite was transformed into a work center with multiple laptops, a hot spot, and a video feed of Magnolia Woods playing on the television. I was drawn to the feed, longing for more than a glimpse of Adelaide.

  “Nice,” I surmised.

  “Thank you.”

  I took a seat in the far corner, in a spot where I could watch both the door and the room. “Tell me the truth, Mrs. Witt: you don’t like me much, do you?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “No, sir, I don’t.”

  Her honesty made me laugh. “Well then, you won’t be too upset to learn the feeling was mutual.”

  “Was?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “You don’t trust me. I’m not trustworthy. You have good instincts. I’ve always been good at technology, but it’s moving faster than I can keep up.” I nodded toward her setup. “Your skills are impressive. I’ve been watching what you do. I even put in a few questionable employees in my security department.”

  I smiled at her microexpression and added, “No need to worry. They never had any real access, but I knew you were watching.”

  Deloris sat opposite me. “You were testing me?”

  “If I were, you passed. Not only did you fire and replace them, you did it without fanfare. No calls, no proclamations. I was impressed.”

  “I-I should have known.”

  “No, that wouldn’t have been much of a test.”

  I leaned forward. “Tell me your thoughts on the shooting.”

  “A test?”

  “No! Rest assured of one thing: I’d never take a chance with my son’s life.”

  She nodded. “I do believe that. I’ve spoken with Silvia for some more insight. The jury is out on her, but obviously she’s been with the Demetris for a long time.”

  I nodded. “Family. There’s no need to question.”

  “All family is above reproach?”

  “Family is family.”

  Deloris nodded. “My gut says the shooting wasn’t family—Costello or Bonetti. There was nothing to gain, no statement to make. My money is on Severus Davis.” Her head began to shake back and forth. “But I can’t prove it. Ballistics, trajectory—nothing is helpful. The police are equally as baffled.”

  “Yet they had enough to suspect the woman’s husband?”

  “Suspect, not accuse. That’s because we planted it all, circumstantial evidence. None of it would hold up in court. It was enough to take the heat off Lennox and Alex.”

  “Have you completely ruled out family?” I clarified, “I’m not talking Demetri. There was another person.”

  Deloris took a deep breath. “I haven’t. I can’t prove that either. Though I haven’t seen the same honor regarding taking a risk with someone’s life.” She tilted her head toward the TV, making the muscles in my neck stiffen.

  “The break-in?” I asked, refusing to lose focus.

  “Which one?”

  “Palo Alto.”

  “I believe it was Edward Spencer. He was there. He went to the complex claiming to be Alex’s fiancé and they let him in. His fingerprints became a non-issue. It was handled very poorly.”

  “Lennox’s apartment?”

  “Alton Fitzgerald, I’m sure of it. He paid Jerrod to place the letter. Though his person told Jerrod it was because Mrs. Fitzgerald couldn’t reach her daughter; I believe Jerrod thought he was being helpful.”

  “A mistake I can assume won’t be repeated?”

  “No, sir, it won’t. I also believe that Alton Fitzgerald was trying to scare Alex into coming here to Savannah. When that didn’t work, he resorted to using his wife.”

  The hairs on my arms prickled. There were few people I loathed who still walked this earth. I was ready to make that one less. “Melissa Summers?” I asked.

  “Is currently safe.”

  I nodded, happy she’d confirmed my suspicions. “Currently?”

  “Currently.”

  “Does Lennox know?”

  “He hasn’t asked. He mentioned that he wanted the problem to go away, so she did.”

  My cheeks rose as I nodded in admiration. “And Mr. Spencer taking the heat?”

  She shrugged. “An unintended bonus.”

  We both turned as the door opened and Lennox and Isaac entered.

  “What the hell?” Lennox asked. “Did something happen?”

  His hair was windblown or was it just disheveled? And his shirt was wrinkled. Not terrible. It didn’t look like he’d slept in it, but for Lennox it was unusual. “What the hell happened to you? You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  He flopped into a chair and looked up at the television. “Nothing. Anything new?”

  “No,” Deloris answered. “I was able to splice some video from two days ago into this feed. It appears as though she was there with Patrick.”

  Lennox nodded.

  “The security?”

  “Patrick lost them. When they headed toward the hospital, I called and he left. He picked her up on the back street. By the time Fitzgerald’s men picked up the trail, Patrick and Alex were on their way back to the manor.”

  Lennox took a deep breath and turned my way. “Dad, what do you want?”

  I wanted to know what in the hell they were saying. I wanted to know that they weren’t dumb enough to risk everything so Lennox could dip his dick. I wanted to believe that Adelaide was in more capable hands than that.

  However, with age comes wisdom and patience. This wasn’t the time for a confrontation. Swallowing my questions, I pulled the pen drive from my pocket. “I thought we might go through this together and find out what exactly we’re up against. There’s an interesting codicil.”

  “A codicil?” Deloris asked.

  “You got it? The will?” Lennox asked.

  “Yes, I did. There’s a codicil and some questionable signatures on recent power-of-attorney documents. I’m sure there’s a hell of a lot more, but I haven’t had much of a chance to go through it.”

  Lennox nodded. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. How did you get old man Montague’s will?”

  I shrugged. “Per
severance.”

  Deloris stood and put out her hand. “May I have the honor?”

  My lips quirked to a grin. “Can I trust you?”

  “Not with your life.”

  With a scoff, I handed her the pen drive.

  “You have your own copy, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Of course. Won’t you have one also in a matter of minutes?”

  “I doubt it’ll take me that long.”

  I SLIPPED INTO the limousine, let out an exaggerated breath, and collapsed against the seat.

  “I’m not going to lie,” Patrick said as the car began to move, “I expected a bigger smile. Someone isn’t doing his job. Maybe I should have gotten you a vibrator instead?”

  I shook my head. “Thank you, Pat. I-I…” Though I did my best to stop them, tears bubbled to the surface.

  Breathe in and out… breathe in and out…

  The words repeated in my head.

  Patrick moved seats, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close. “Christ, Alex, what’s happening?”

  Pat’s cologne filled my senses as I worked to inhale my outburst. Instead of swallowing my emotions, my too-fast breathing stirred them up, making them fester and boil until they came out in big hiccupping sobs.

  It had all been too much too quickly…

  Nox.

  My momma.

  Chelsea.

  Nox.

  Infidelity.

  Nox.

  Bryce.

  The wedding.

  Nox.

  Suzanna.

  “I’m… so… tired,” I managed to say between gasps of air.

  Patrick didn’t speak. Instead, he hugged me tighter.

  “I-I can’t… keep this up.” It was the cleansing confession I’d wanted to make to Nox, the embrace and support I’d wanted from him, but I hadn’t talked to him, not really. Our time was monopolized by our reunion—our reunification. It wasn’t that I was complaining. I wasn’t… my body wasn’t. Making love had been another release I’d wanted, but now I needed more. “I’m tired of fighting.”

  Pat loosened his embrace and pushed a button to open the window between us and the driver. When it opened, the eyes of another stranger peered back through the rearview mirror.