Chapter 18

Shane stood beside Taylor the following morning as they waited for someone to answer the door at her mother’s house. He’d spent the night with her. Most of the time they’d gone at it like minks in heat—not that he’d ever witnessed minks screwing, but word was out on those little critters.

When they’d taken breaks and talked, Taylor had continued to express guilt about Renata. Nothing he said could make her feel any better.

He didn’t think she should blame herself. Who would have guessed?

Renata didn’t look like her mother, and no one could prove she was the missing baby. But Taylor, for all her success in the business world, had a sensitive side.

He liked her all the more for it. Aw, hell. Who was he kidding? He’d fallen in love with her.

He should be grateful Taylor’s guilt was focused on Renata. He’d half expected her to regret making love to him, because of Paul Ashford.

The worthless son of a bitch.

“Missy, so happy you come,” Maria said with a Spanish accent as she opened the door.

Shane noticed the glimmer of tears in the maid’s eyes. Uh-oh. Now what? He put his hand on the small of Taylor’s back.

“What’s the matter, Maria?” Taylor asked.

“Your mother … mala.”

Mala. Bad.

Shane listened as Maria told Taylor in broken English. There had been a mix-up at the lab. The test results Taylor’s mother had received belonged to someone else. Her blood work showed she had taken a turn for the worse.

Shit.

The doctor had called yesterday with the bad news. Beneath his hand, Taylor’s body went rigid. Shane knew she was upset because her mother hadn’t contacted her.

“Where is she?” Taylor asked, concern etching her beautiful face.

“Bed.”

“Is she asleep?”

Maria shook her head. Shane followed Taylor through the quiet house to the master bedroom suite.

“Mother, it’s me,” Taylor called softly from the sitting room adjacent to the master bedroom. “Shane’s with me. May we come in?”

It was a long moment before a faint “yes” came from the bedroom. Taylor led the way into the nearly dark room. The shades were drawn, blocking out the scorching Miami sun. The only light came from a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

Vanessa Maxwell’s head was propped up by a bank of lavender pillows. All the color had vanished from her face, leaving it the color of wax. Her blue eyes were glazed. Shane figured she was on heavy-duty pain medication.

“Mother, why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you or Trent. You have enough problems right now. You don’t need mine.” Vanessa’s tone was chillier than usual by several degrees.

Taylor sat on the bed beside her mother and took her hand. “I love you. Nothing in my life is more important than you.”

Shane waited for Vanessa to say she loved Taylor, but the woman merely gave a wan excuse for a smile.

“Tell me what Dr. Field said.”

“They gave me the wrong blood test results. I’m actually severely anemic.”

“Is it bad enough to warrant a blood transfusion?”

Vanessa nodded.

Christ! Shane swore under his breath. He knew during the advanced stages of myeloma patients became severely anemic and required blood transfusions. Their immune systems went wacko, and they had to have chemotherapy or they would die.

Even with chemo, it was a terminal illness.

Taylor was in for a rough go. He planned to be at her side the whole way.

“Have the police found out who killed my baby?” Vanessa asked.

“No. Apparently, they don’t have any new leads. Vince and Shane are working on it. We all want to find Renata’s killer.”

Vanessa didn’t answer, but she was looking at her daughter with reproachful eyes. How could she possibly think—for one second—Taylor had anything to do with Renata’s murder?

He knew every plane, every line, every nuance of Taylor’s face. If her feelings were hurt, she didn’t show it. She continued to gaze at her mother with a loving expression.

“My fingerprints were in Renata’s room because I went in there to get hair for a DNA test.”

“I know. The police told me how you explained the prints. I guess they’re still suspicious because your prints were in so many places.”

Taylor glanced at him, and he tried to reassure her with a slight nod. Evidently, Caleb was slowly poisoning Vanessa’s mind. How long would it be until she openly accused Taylor of murder?

“I know it was wrong, but I looked through her things. That’s why my fingerprints were all over the place.”

“What did you expect to find?”

“Proof she wasn’t your daughter.” Shane heard Taylor’s quick intake of breath. “I was wrong. The DNA results came back late yesterday. Renata was your daughter.”

Suddenly, tears brimmed in Vanessa’s eyes. “I never doubted it for one moment.”

“How could you be so sure?” Shane asked, speaking for the first time.

Vanessa hesitated for a second, then said, “Instinct. Mothers know things, feel things.”

“I’m truly sorry I didn’t get the chance to know her,” Taylor said.

“You would have liked Renata. She was a wonderful, intelligent person,” Vanessa told Taylor, a hint of censure in her tone.

“You’re right. I’m sure I would have liked her.”

Shane had a real problem with this, but he kept his mouth shut. Just because Renata was her daughter did not elevate the woman to sainthood.

Caleb Bassett sauntered into the room. “What are you doing here?”

Just the sight of the jerk made Shane want to piss in his gas tank or punch his lights out. Something.

“I’m visiting my mother,” Taylor answered.

“You should be at the station, helping the police.”

A curse clawed its way up Shane’s throat, but he managed to bank it. Taylor was a pro. She could handle this man. If not, Shane was here for backup.

“They’ve searched my apartment. I’ve answered every question.”

“She’s done everything she could,” Shane added.

Caleb shot him a look that was close to a death threat. Shane damn near grabbed the bastard by his throat, but he knew a fight would only drive a bigger wedge between Taylor and her mother.

Caleb’s dark eyes cut to Vanessa, and he beamed her a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Weak. Too weak to do anything but lay here.”

“When are you going for the transfusion?” Taylor asked. “It’ll give you strength.”

“She’s due there at one,” Caleb answered.

“I’ll take you,” Taylor said.

“No. Caleb is taking me.”

They were standing outside Vanessa’s house talking twenty minutes later. Shane knew Taylor would have stayed longer, but after Caleb had come into the room Vanessa became colder by the moment.

“She thinks I killed Renata,” Taylor said yet again. “I can’t believe it.”

Shane pulled her into his arms and hugged her. She leaned into him, needing to be comforted. Holding her felt so damn right.

“She never actually accused you, but I agree. Caleb has your mother seriously considering the possibility. We’re going to find the killer. Then she’ll know the truth.”

“We’ve got to hurry. I’ve worked with the local myeloma chapter, and I’ve seen myeloma patients go down fast once they reach this point.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on it.”

He reluctantly let her go, and they walked to their cars, promising to keep in touch by cell phone if anything came up. As he drove off to interview Jim Wilson, the man who’d been fired from the company over his affair with Vanessa, Shane thought about Taylor’s mother.

She could be a bitch.

Vanessa had seemed charming when he’d first met her, and Shane admitted he hadn’t paid much attention to her. He’d been too focused on Taylor. Now that he’d been around her more, he understood why some people didn’t like her.

Get over it.

Vanessa was Taylor’s mother, and Taylor loved her. He’d do whatever he could to make Taylor happy. Their relationship was progressing just the way he had hoped.

She didn’t need to know how he’d found his way into her life. Man, oh, man. He’d have to tell her eventually. But now wasn’t the time.

Taylor had all the bad news she could handle.

Doyle prided himself for holding his temper in check while Trent pitched some half-baked shampoo that didn’t lather. Another one of Raoul’s ideas.

“We’re selling the company soon. We don’t have the time or the money to develop another product.” He steepled his fingers and gazed across the desk at his nephew, and decided now was the time to lower the boom. “If you bother me with one more of Raoul’s ideas, I’m telling your mother about your arrest.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wrong. Don’t try me. Save Raoul’s ideas for when you two go into business together.”

Personally, Doyle thought Raoul was using Trent. Raoul would probably dump him if someone richer came along.

Brianna sailed into the office, her smile breaking the tension. Usually, he looked forward to having lunch with her. But not today.

With the sale of the company on hold, he was being forced to have a talk with her about money. He had to put the brakes on their spending immediately.

“How’s it going, Trent?” Brianna asked.

Before Trent could answer, Taylor walked into the office.

“Bad news,” she said in a choked voice. “Mother is so anemic she has to have a transfusion.”

Trent said, “I thought her test results were okay.”

Doyle listened while Taylor explained about the mix-up at the laboratory where the blood sample was processed. Vanessa didn’t have long to live, he thought.

“Mother is beginning to believe one of us murdered Renata,” Taylor told them.

“Is Caleb still hanging around?” Trent asked.

“Yes, and it seems they’re pretty close. I wanted to take her for the transfusion, but she wouldn’t let me. Caleb is going with her.”

Trent shook his head. “This sucks.”

Doyle’s stomach pitched as a terrible thought occurred to him. What if Vanessa didn’t will her shares to Trent and Taylor? He’d thought with Renata dead, Vanessa would put the will back the way it had been. But if she blamed her children for the stripper’s death, no telling what she might do.

Jesus Willie Christ. The way things were going they were never going to sell To The Maxx.

What in hell was he going to do for money?

“I need to talk to you about something,” Doyle told Brianna.

They were sitting in the upstairs gallery overlooking the main floor of Norman’s restaurant, having just ordered lunch. Doyle thought Norman Van Aken was the best chef in Coral Gables—in all of Miami, for that matter.

He liked eating at great restaurants and ordering fine wine at night. He enjoyed showing off Brianna. He had no intention of giving up his lifestyle, but they were going to temporarily cut back.

“You want to talk to me about money,” Brianna said, taking him by surprise.

“Yes. How did you know?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Last week I went to use my American Express card and it was refused. Then I went home and checked in your office. We were overdue on most of our bills.”

“Were?”

“I paid them with money from my account.”

When they’d married, Brianna had kept her own bank account. He had no idea how much was in there, but it couldn’t be a lot.

“I’m sorry you had to spend all your money. I’ll repay—”

“No, you won’t. For better or for worse, remember?”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Besides, it didn’t empty my account. I’d saved a lot by the time you married me. I wasn’t going to be a lap dancer forever. I planned on opening my own boutique.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I—”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. Tell me how bad it is and what we have to do.”

He explained the economic measures he planned on taking. Brianna surprised him with a few ideas of her own.

“Lunches at expensive places like this will be out,” she told him. “I’ll bring in food from home or we’ll go have a picnic somewhere.”

“This isn’t going to last forever,” he assured her.

“I wouldn’t count on the company selling anytime soon. After what Taylor told us about her mother, I wouldn’t be surprised if Vanessa left her share to charity or something.”

Doyle nodded. “We’ll have to live on my salary then.”

“I could get a job. I—”

“You don’t have to work.”

“I want to work. I want to help. I’m not one of those—what do you call them?—trophy wives. I love you. We’re in this together.”

Doyle honestly didn’t know what to say. Brianna had always said she loved him. Until this moment, he hadn’t believed her.

She really did love him.

Pretty amazing.

It made anything he had to do worthwhile.

Anything.