Larry wasn’t answering his phone. She pressed redial. Answer the phone, Larry. Two more rings. Larry’s voice mail answered. “I don’t care who you are, thirty seconds is all you have.” Beep.
“Larry, honey … My ride left without me.” She could feel the adrenaline flowing wild. Her heart raced with a burning need to go for the kill. She set the phone on the seat and leaned back, frustrated at the outcome and worried Andrew would think she was involved in the set-up to take him out.
Now was not the time for this, she reprimanded herself. She needed a clear head and a new plan. Coffee was the next best thing to walking in doing this.
Selena knew there was a coffee house down the street and headed that way. She had taken time to scout the area, using the coffee house as a source of establishing herself within the small neighborhood. A bell chimed as she entered. As warm as it was outside she needed something frozen, loaded with whipped cream, fudge sauce, and caffeine. Without looking at the menu, she chose the mocha-coconut frappucino.
She pulled a few ones from the pockets of her low-riding jeans.
“Bad day?” Claire, the manager, asked.
“It’ll get better,” Selena answered, unaware of the heat in her voice. She handed the money to the girl.
A male hand pushed her money back her way. “It’s mine.”
“No, thank you. I can pay my own way,” she said without looking at the owner of the well-manicured hand.
“Are you sure you want to refuse this offer?”
The craggy voice forced her to look into the man’s eyes.
“Is this man bothering you?” asked Claire.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pitted face.
The wrinkles gave away his age, but what gave it away even more were the eyes. A Donovan through and through. His nickname — Pitter Patter Man — didn’t begin to capture his menace.
She forced herself to continue meeting his gaze, despite the outstretched frozen drink.
Pitter Patter Man took the drink and placed it in her hand.
“Take the man’s money. It’s his turn to pay anyways,” Selena said without taking her eyes from him.
Claire shook her head. The other customers did a one-hundred-eighty degree turn-around when they saw this man. Selena didn’t blame them. When Claire tried to give him his change, he shook his head without looking in her direction, his eyes on Selena.
Claire’s expression suggested she didn’t like this one bit. Several babies cried out.
Pitter Patter Man gave each baby several seconds of his focus.
The babies stopped crying instantly, returning the stare. Mothers turned their babies from his attention.
He smiled at the protective mothers.
Customers made way for Pitter Patter as he headed out the door. He gestured with a quick nod at the car waiting outside. Selena knew it was meant for her. How the Donovan family knew she was here was beyond her comprehension. But then … there were some people willing to sell anything and everyone for money or favors.
Unconsciously she set the drink next to the lids and straws and followed him out. Pitter Pan Man disappeared. In his place, a driver appeared and opened a door, waiting for her to slide inside of the extended limo.
She hesitated.
A baby laughed.
Was it Eric? This time she didn’t think twice and stepped inside.
“Ms. Malone. I see you survived in one piece,” Andrew said, nodding to his driver.
The driver closed the door.
She watched Eric from the corner of her eye. Even if she was carrying, she would never shoot with Eric in close proximity. He was so much like her sister. The dimples. The blonde hair.
“Yes, I survived.” Why bother acting dumb. “As you did.”
“Well, I’ve been known to have the luck of the Irish.” Andrew laughed.
Selena watched Eric’s reaction. He didn’t move. Interesting.
“My son, Eric. My only son.”
“He looks like his daddy.” Andrew’s face contorted with a sliver of momentary anger.
“What did you wish to talk to me about?” she asked.
“I saw you reaching for my son.”
“I meant no harm.”
“But you tried to grab him. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Her heart raced. “May I explain?”
“No need.”
The limo began to slow down.
“It’s a simple explanation — ”
Andrew stroked Eric’s head until Eric lay against him, closing his eyes. “I don’t doubt it. But once I see it, no explanations are necessary.” Andrew pushed a button.
“Sir?” the driver voice asked over the intercom. The car came to a complete stop.
“Ms. Malone will no longer be riding with us.”
The door beside her opened and the driver waited for her to get out.
Keeping herself in check without allowing fear for her nephew’s safety to overwhelm her, she nodded towards Andrew, refusing to look at Eric. The pain was too great to swallow.
“You are a strong woman, Ms. Malone. My wife would’ve liked to have called you a friend.”
“I would’ve loved to have met your wife, Mr. Donovan.” And she meant it.
She accepted the driver’s help out. Another car had pulled up behind them, waiting to take her away. Her weapon was tucked under the seat of her car and even if she had her cell phone on her, any help would be too late in coming. A white-haired man stepped partway out of the car, one foot resting inside the car, his arm draped over the top of the door.
Lifting her chin up in defiance, she walked his way and got in the car.
The driver didn’t have that look of pleasure some guys have when they were about to kill. He was very relaxed, smiling as he shut the door behind her.
Andrew, on the other hand, had been extremely tense. Who wouldn’t be after having his life threatened? She could see how her sister had fallen for Andrew. Out of all the Donovan males, he was very handsome. Sort of a pretty boy look with his dark hair. He had a slight gut on him but considering how much he enjoyed food that was to be expected. Despite the tightness about him, he was very polite.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Which way to your place?”
She did a double take. “My place?”
“You’ll need your things.”
Now she was confused. “Why?”
He snorted. “Females are a little dense these days. Don’t understand what Mr. Donovan sees in you. His wife was extremely intelligent, but he knows his own mind. Never knew when he didn’t.”
She gave him directions. “What do they call you?”
“Not much for pleasantries.”
She laughed. “I don’t think you’d come if I whistled to the theme of The Sopranos.”
He guffawed. “No, but it’s good entertainment.” He pulled in front of her temporary rental. “You have thirty minutes to gather what you’ll need. What you don’t get, I’m sure it can be replaced.”
“Thirty minutes?” She sounded like a parrot.
“Mr. Donovan’s orders. If you’re not done in thirty minutes, you come as you are. It’s Tony.”
Inwardly, she sighed. She’d been out of the loop too long. This conversation was not making any sense.
• • •
Thirty minutes and one suitcase later, they were on their way. Luckily Tony hadn’t seen the empty apartment or the packed suitcase already sitting in the foyer. She had passed time going to the bathroom and trying Larry’s number once again. No luck.
Once Selena was back in the car, she found a piece of bubblegum and popped it in her mouth. She blew bubbles, smacked her lips with each chew, and asked a gazillion questions guaranteed to blow any man’s mind. Each time she whooshed her gum back inside her mouth and mashed it, Tony cringed. If she had to be off guard, then they might as well do it together.
The ride was scenic and long compared to her city driving of ten minutes here and ten minutes there. Tony finally pulled up to a gated house. A few seconds later the gate slid open.
A large white veranda followed the full length of the house and around the corner on the first and second levels. An ornate water fountain stood in the center of the circular drive. She counted at least ten armed men patrolling the area.
Tony parked in the circular drive and indicated that she could get out. The sweet fragrance of flowers greeted her as she did so.
Andrew came out of the front door to greet her. “Good evening, Ms. Malone. I see Tony brought you in one piece.”
Selena smiled back, offering her hand in acknowledgement. “Tony was a superb host, Mr. Donovan. I’m not sure I was the perfect guest.”
“Call me Andrew.”
She followed him through the foyer into a small library off to the side. “Why have you brought me here, Mr. — Andrew? I’m not sure what you’re expecting of me.”
“To be blunt, you saved my life and my son’s. I want to repay you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You put yourself between one of the assailants and my son,” Andrew said.
“I don’t need anything for doing that.”
He looked down at the shoes, worn jeans, and frayed shirt she had changed into for comfort. His smile wasn’t unkind. “You need a job and I need someone for my son. Since his mother had passed away, the boy needs female company. Later in life? That’s a different story. But for now, he needs a mother figure.”
“I could never replace your wife.” And she couldn’t. No one could replace her sister — or a mother’s love.
“Why don’t you try the job out? If you don’t think it’s for you, well …”
Who was he kidding? This family had never allowed anyone to quit.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Mary will show you to your room. If you need anything else just ask her and she’ll see that you get it. My drivers will take you wherever you need to go. Give me the name of your banking institution and I’ll have your account credited with your weekly salary.”
An elderly woman entered the room. A silver bun adorned the back of her head, her dress matronly. “You wanted me?”
“See to it Ms. Malone has everything she needs.”
Selena reached out to shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Mary. Please call me Selena.”
Mary gave her the once over, sniffed, and walked out.
“Mary is a woman of few words. She’ll get used to you. It just takes her time in getting to know newcomers,” Andrew remarked.
She turned to follow Mary.
“Selena …”
She stopped in the archway.
“I treat my loyal employees well. I treat my family even better.”
Selena caught up with Mary at the head of the stairs. As Mary opened the door to Selena’s bedroom, a warm breeze swept past them. Mary headed towards the open windows.
“Please don’t close them.” Mary continued closing them. Selena walked over and stood next to her. Mary faced her. “I love fresh air. Please don’t shut the windows.” Mary shrugged as if to say her loss.
“Thank you, Mary.” No answer.
Selena sat down on the floral cushion by the bay window and sighed. Usually housekeepers were a rich source of information. Not this one. She had to hand it to Mary, the room she’d been given was beautiful.
The four-poster bed ensemble and the curtains matched the window seat. There was a small adjoining sun room with ferns and furniture for lounging with French doors opening onto the balcony. With the exception of the tapestry hanging at the head of the bed, the walls were bare. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the faint lines where frames had once hung.
“Used to be Miss Theresa’s room.”
Then Mary was gone.
It would be difficult to pin her sister’s death on the Donovans since Theresa couldn’t speak for herself. Had Theresa continued her youthful journalizing? If so, perhaps there would be some useful evidence. When Theresa was in high school, her favorite hiding place was under the bed, tucked along the slats. If this had been Theresa’s room, then there was only one way to find out.
Lying on her back, Selena used her hands and feet to push herself partway under the bed. She felt between the mattress and each of the slats, starting with the middle one. “Ah ha. Here it is. Theresa, you are a saint,” Selena whispered, pulling the leather-bound journal out.
Something brushed against her face. She stifled a scream and moved quickly. The thought of Theresa keeping a journal had pushed her fear of spiders and tight spaces out of her mind. She walked to the door, opened it a few inches, and scouted the hallway. Seeing no one around, she held the knob and closed it without making a sound. She was sure her sister had written everything down, giving Andrew a free ticket into prison.
The small grandfather clock on the nightstand read ten till six. She glanced back at the book in her hands. Her fingers itched to turn the pages. She couldn’t take the chance until everyone had fallen asleep. Theresa may have had a hard time admitting she’d made a mistake marrying Andrew, but her journal held the truth and would provide the final justice.
She tucked the book back under the bed. Dinner would be announced soon, summoning her downstairs. She wasn’t prepared for being included with the family meals and hadn’t packed suitable clothes. She hefted the suitcase on the bed. Placing what she needed to in the drawers, she opened the closet door and walked in. There wasn’t one hanger free for her clothing. Andrew had stocked it well, anticipating someone to be wearing them. She found a tag and whistled at the price. Apparently, someone had taste.
“Do you like them?” Andrew asked.
Damn. She would have to remember how quiet he could be.
He joined her inside the closet.
She pulled a cream colored dress off the rack and dipped inside the silk for the label. It was definitely her size. “You work fast.”
“I have my ways.” He flipped through the rack, found what he’d been searching for, pulled it out and held the sable-colored dress up to her. “Wear this.” Bending down, he found suede heels to match it. He brushed the suede with his thumb and then stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Just as I’d thought.”
When Andrew left, she rubbed his touch away from her skin. He had excellent taste in clothes, but he didn’t have one ounce of heart in that body. He’d clearly signaled his intentions. He wanted her for more than a nanny.
By the time she’d dressed and gone down to the dining room, everyone was seated for dinner with the exception of Andrew, who waited behind a chair.
Old man Don turned at the sound of her entrance. His older son, Terrance, didn’t spare more than a single glance. Several of the Donovans’ henchmen were seated with them.
Andrew’s eyes trailed down the length of her body, hesitating a little longer on the curves emphasized by the soft, hugging material. He pulled her chair out, taking time to view her backside.
She saw no other available seating and accepted gracefully.
None of these men were like the man she’d left behind. She hoped Drake would forgive her for running out on him. Judging from the expression in his eyes at the stakeout, he hadn’t looked happy. Of course, she couldn’t blame him. He had more than just one beef with her.
Especially since she had made him wait until after they were married.
Andrew fingered her hair before taking his seat.
“So when are my children going to produce more babies?” Don asked, breaking into her private thoughts and the conversations around the table. “My youngest is the only one with enough balls to keep practicing until his wife died. And she produced a boy.” Everyone grew extremely quiet at the edge in Don’s voice.
Terrance folded his hands and rested them on the edge of the table; his beer-keg belly made sitting close to the table difficult. His face grew redder by the second. “Don’t push.”
“Have you born any grandbabies for me to hold?”
“Listen ol — ” Terrance stopped. His eyes followed the slow movement of Don’s fingers to the side of the plate. “With all due respect, Don,” he said. “I haven’t met a woman who would meet with your approval.”
“That’s rich. You’ve found plenty to screw. And you haven’t found one good enough to marry?”
Andrew placed his fork on the plate.
Both Terrance and Old Don immediately noticed the clench and release of Andrew’s jaw.
Terrance resumed eating.
Old Don moved his fingers to his napkin, with reluctance.
In just that tiny little action made more of a statement than the scene that had just taken place. Andrew held more power than Terrance. Maybe Eric’s ability to carry on the family name had something to do with it.
“The room is beautiful, Mr. Donovan. I understand it used to be Mrs. Donovan’s room. I feel very privileged. Thank you.”
Andrew frowned, but quickly hid it behind his glass of red wine. He polished off the last of it and replenished the glass before answering, “It’s Andrew. You are free to change anything you want.”
“I wouldn’t touch a thing in it,” Selena said as she dabbed the side of her mouth with her napkin. “By the way, Andrew, what was the attached room used for?”
Andrew’s movements stilled and his mouth tightened at the corners briefly before he rested his wrist on the edge of the table.
She waited with the others, who had also stopped whatever they were doing for a second time to hear his answer. Several times his facial expression changed, each fleeting, but noticeable to someone in her field.
“It was the baby’s room. When Theresa died, Mary took over the care of little Eric’s needs and moved him into her room.”
Selena wanted to shout, When Theresa was murdered! All faces were devoid of emotion. Great poker faces. Not one ounce of humanity in this den of murderers, slavers, and drug runners.
“Theresa had an extra room she’d used for sewing and thought it would be easier if we converted it for Eric. Mary didn’t want to use it after Theresa died.”
He was lying.
Each word was too controlled. Too much effort in keeping the emotions in check.
“I want to start earning my keep, Andrew. It would be easier for me to do that if he were brought back to the nursery,” she offered.
Andrew filled his glass with more wine. “You’ll have to take that up with Mary. She protects Eric as a tiger protects her young,” he said, dryly. He raised his glass towards the kitchen door and nodded.
Selena followed the direction of his salute.
Mary stood in doorway, glaring at Andrew, her lips pursed tight. She gave quick jerk of her head before turning back into the kitchen. The door slammed shut behind her.
Andrew laughed. “See what I mean? Our Mary can be very formidable when she wants to be. Even Father won’t go against Mary. Isn’t that right?”
Old Don ignored the baited question.
• • •
When Selena returned to her room, she knew someone had searched it. Most people wouldn’t have noticed the slight opening of the top drawer or the light on in the closet. They didn’t suspect she would notice, taking her for a fluff brain. She didn’t bother checking her personal items since nothing would’ve been taken. It wasn’t personal. Searching their employees was only business for the Donovans.
If they found her sister’s journal, Selena was dead. She was impatient to see if it was still in place.
“I see you found your way back.”
Andrew stood two feet away.
She laughed. “I’m one of those people who look for landmarks on the first time through and then try it on their own.”
Andrew’s lips curled in distaste. “I never did like this room or the colors. Theresa fell in love with it, too. My mother’s room,” he explained. “It hasn’t been changed since her death. Theresa wanted to remember my mother. Said she felt a connection with her. Don’t know why though. They’d never met.”
He looked over at the bay window. A shudder passed through him.
“I’ll let Mary know you’ll be in charge of Eric. It may take a few days, but …” He hesitated and shrugged as if she knew what he meant. “Go ahead and tour the house. I’d take you, but I’m wrapped up in meetings for the rest of the week. In case you get cabin fever and want to walk, let one of the men know. My father is a wealthy man and so am I, in my own right, so we need to practice extreme caution. My men will follow you. Discreetly, of course.”
Andrew paused at the door. “I like you, Selena. There’s a familiarity between us I can’t explain. You’re not as ditzy as you let on.” She didn’t allow her surprise to show. “I want you to be my wife. I want you in my bed within three months. That’s all the time I’ll allow you to get used to the idea. I won’t accept less than marriage. Nor will I accept a refusal.”
Selena’s mouth dropped open.
He smiled. Then he was gone.
She smothered the laughter bubbling inside. The man she’d left behind was a man of few words, preferring action over words. No matter how hard he had tried to get her into bed, she had refused. Too many emotional strings to deal with. Although she’d had a few relationships, she preferred keeping men at a distance.
Easier. Less heartache.
She sighed and quickly changed into sweats and T-shirt. She peeked outside her door. The household noise had dwindled to a few voices here and there. The hall was empty.
Quickly closing the door, she snatched the book from its hiding spot and nestled into the huge down-filled pillows on the bed. She caressed the embossed lettering. Tears pooled in her eyes. The only things she had left of Theresa were memories and Eric.
“Theresa, I miss you so much. Please don’t worry, Eric will be safe. I swear this on my own life,” she whispered. The tears slid down her face before she could wipe them away.
It was hard opening the pages to her sister’s private world …