Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1) (21 page)

Helene’s face fell. “So soon? You just got here. Won’t you stay for tea? With shortbread cookies?”

Veronique smiled. “Nothing has changed. You’ve been having Earl Grey tea with cookies since I was a little girl.”

Helene chuckled. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all, but I can’t stay longer. I’ll come by next week to see you again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Veronique said, meaning it.

“What will I tell Nick? He looked very stern when he told me not to let you out of my sight,” Helene fretted.

“Tell him I went home,” she said carelessly.

Helene looked doubtful. “I hope he doesn’t get angry. I’ve never seen him look so tense.”

“He’ll get over it,” Veronique said.

But
she
wouldn’t. She would never get over the heartbreak he’d caused her.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Daisy leaned back in Nick’s office chair and put her feet on his desk, a smug smile curling her lips as she fingered the wads of cash she’d found stashed in the top drawer.
Pocket change
, she thought smirking. She wouldn’t have to steal petty cash anymore. She was going to be very rich soon.

Finding Veronique’s files had been a Godsend! She’d already made a nice bundle selling her video and the silly picture of Nick. She’d reached out to all the media channels and gotten the highest bid for them. Then she’d turned her efforts to extorting Nick’s ex-wife, Elizabeth. When Elizabeth had balked, Daisy, pretending to be Veronique, had said, “I have stuff on your involvement with Nick’s foundation and it doesn’t make you look good. Know what I mean?”

Daisy had filled her in on the fat file of evidence and the ex-wife had wasted no time in arranging for a nice bundle of cash to be delivered to her near Nick’s house. She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. In half an hour, she would meet Hector, Elizabeth’s “delivery man” at the corner of Begonia Way. She slid her hands over Nick’s desk wondering if he had allowed Veronique into his private quarters.
Probably.
And they’d probably done it on his desk too. She felt sick. She should have been the one having sex with Nick, not that stupid bitch. She couldn’t wait to bring her down. If Daisy couldn’t have Nick, Veronique wouldn’t have him either.

She wouldn’t let it upset her; there were better things to think about. Daisy’s newfound riches were intoxicatingly sweet—and so was her revenge. She got up and left the office, closing the door behind her. She had picked the lock earlier, laughing at how easy it had been and wishing she’d done it much sooner.

Intimately familiar with the order of things in Nick’s master bedroom and closet, she gave it a sweeping glance and then went straight to his king size bed. She pulled the
Santería
medal out of her pocket and stared at it, willing it to work. The medal of Chango, the
Santería
god of thunder who dominated and overcame enemies, was just what she needed to rid herself—and Nick—of the bitch. She slid the medal across the top of Nick’s bed from one edge to the other as she prayed fervently, “Chango, keep Veronique away from Nick. Get rid of her forever. Forever!” She kissed the medal and placed it under his mattress, feeling a surge of empowerment so strong, she shivered with excitement.

She ran to the guest room and opened all the drawers of the nightstand and dresser to see if Veronique had left anything behind. Good, they were empty. Maybe she didn’t need Chango’s help after all…maybe the bitch wasn’t coming back. With a stab of disappointment, she remembered Veronique hadn’t unpacked her suitcase while there. Of course the drawers would be empty. Her clothes had never been in them. The messy bitch had kept her stuff in a jumble and not even bothered to hang them up.

Daisy noticed the straw hat that Veronique had been wearing when she and Nick returned from the beach on the vanity counter. She stood in front of the mirror and twisted her long hair into a bun at the back of her head. She put the hat on and decided to keep it. It would be good for hiding her face when she met up with Elizabeth’s delivery guy. Putting on her dark sunglasses, she exited the house through the back door.

As she rounded the corner, she made her way toward the driveway, kicking at rocks along the way. She glanced at the afternoon sun, glad there wasn’t any rain to mar her perfect plan. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on her stash. Five more minutes and she’d be at the designated spot for the drop off. She was caught up in making plans with the millions she’d soon have when her foot caught on an exposed Banyan root and she tripped.

A sudden, piercing pain ripped into the tip of her left shoulder. It felt as if someone had pressed a lit torch to her skin. She glanced at her shoulder and screamed when she saw the gaping hole.

She’d been shot!

She gripped her shoulder as searing pain flooded her shoulder and blood spurted on her hand. Collapsing to the ground, she landed facedown, her mouth grappling with grass and leaves as she tried to call for help. The smell of her blood seeping in the dirt increased her panicked terror. Groaning in pain, she struggled to rise on her elbows, but she couldn’t summon enough strength as darkness closed over her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Nick and Fred walked back to Fred’s apartment after their meeting as the sun set over the bustling city.

“I’m taking Helene to Marea tonight for dinner,” Fred said. “Care to join us?”

Nick checked his wristwatch. “No thanks. It’s already eight o’clock. Does Helene know about Ronnie’s video?”

“I doubt it. She was out all day at the doctor’s office. She said she was planning on taking a nap when she got home.”

“We must have interrupted her nap,” Nick said ruefully. “Well, she probably knows about it now. It’s all over the news.”

“That’s inevitable. You’ve been an enigma to the press for the past six months. Everyone’s been clamoring for your story.”

“Nobody’s getting it, not even your stepdaughter,” Nick said roughly. “If it wasn’t for the danger she’s in, I’d never see Ronnie again, but I’m going to pick her up and take her to my place for safekeeping until we contact the authorities about Elizabeth’s fraud.”

“That won’t be until after tomorrow’s meeting,” Fred said.

“I know.”

Fred ran his fingers through his coarse, short cropped salt and pepper hair. “Look, I know you’re angry, but try to be rational. I’ve known Ronnie since she was a kid. She might be impulsive and impossible to tame, but she’s not a self-serving person. Far from it.”

“Not impossible to tame.” Nick had tamed her into a soft, purring kitten in his arms. The memory of it, and her subsequent treachery, only added to his ire. “Just impossible to trust,” he said, the bitter taste of betrayal choking him.

Fred studied him with shrewd eyes. “You’re not thinking logically. If Ronnie had done it to further her career, she would have written a story. She’s a damn good journalist. Why would she deliver the tape like a lowly tabloid reporter?”

“We were the only ones in the house the whole week she was there,” Nick said through tight lips.

“Still…” Fred said, shaking his head. “A lot of weird things have been happening lately. Maybe someone broke into your house and stole her camera.”

“Nobody stole it. Her camera is in her purse. She said it was in her suitcase the whole time.”

“Give her the benefit of the doubt,” Fred said, clapping Nick on the shoulder. “And don’t give up on her. She’s one in a million.”

“Whatever she did, I still intend on keeping her safe,” Nick muttered.

The moment they arrived at Fred’s apartment, Helene answered the door with a worried look.

“Where’s Ronnie?” Nick asked.

“She went home soon after you left. I couldn’t make her stay,” Helene said with an exasperated sigh. “You know how headstrong she is.”

“Unfortunately I do. I need to get going,” Nick said hurriedly. He kissed Helene’s cheek and raised a hand in farewell to Fred, exchanging a meaningful look with him.

When he left, Nick hailed a taxi straight away to Ronnie’s studio apartment. Every time he tried calling her it went to voice mail. Damn her! It was just like Ronnie to do what she wanted, when she wanted to. He cursed under his breath, a string of curses so vile, the taxi driver chuckled.

He bounded up the three flights of stairs to her studio apartment, two at a time. When he got to her door, he knocked on it repeatedly and called out, “Ronnie! Open the door.” He was out of patience and she was purposely making him wait outside, ignoring him like a stranger.

“You looking for Veronique?” A lanky, rumpled-looking teenager scratched his belly below his torn T shirt and eyed Nick with interest.

“Yes. Do you know her?” Nick said curtly.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. It was a little early for a teen to be sleepy. He was probably stoned. “Sure, man. She just left.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Nope, but she ran down the stairs like she was on fire.”

“Thanks,” Nick said and ran down like he was on fire too.

When he reached the bottom step, he checked the tracker on his phone and found Ronnie was in the Upper West Side. Thank God, he’d had the foresight to synchronize their phones so he could keep track of her. When he arrived at the destination, he stood outside the building and called her, but it went to voice mail.

“Damn it, quit playing games! I’m downstairs and I need to talk to you,” he said, leaving a terse message.
Again.

Veronique sat in Natasha’s apartment with her heart in her throat. She loved going to Natasha’s place and being in a Broadway performer’s digs. It was beautifully decorated in soft cream and apricot colors with a mix of modern and antique furniture, and she always had great music playing in the background.

“I’m glad you came over, Ronnie. What happened?” Natasha’s clear blue eyes anxiously searched Veronique’s face. “You were crying so hard I couldn’t understand what you were saying.”

Natasha’s velvety voice was like a salve on Veronique’s frayed feelings. Anyone who heard her speak knew without a doubt that her singing voice had to be extraordinary, and it was. She was a born nurturer, always wanting to make others feel good, especially through her performances. Onstage, she was dazzling, captivating the audience to forget the daily grind and be swept away.

Veronique wiped her eyes and sighed heavily. “Sorry about that. I’ve been on the worst crying jag since I got here…because of Slinky. Thanks for putting me up tonight. I packed up her stuff in a box, but every time I looked around, I could see her in all her favorite places and…and I just lost it.”

Natasha pushed her long, strawberry blond tresses from her face with shaky hands. “I feel horrible about Slinky. I’m worried it could have been connected to Tony, the guy I’ve been dating.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” Veronique asked, mystified.

She swallowed a shuddering breath. “When I told him that Slinky had been killed, he got agitated and acted weird.”

“Why do you think he was acting that way?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me, but he was freaked out.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He owns a nightclub.”

“Want me to check him out? I can do some investigating.”

“No, thanks. I’m planning to break up with him. I’ve been trying to, but he’s got a quick temper and–”

“Don’t let him intimidate you, Tash. If you want, I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks, Ronnie, but don’t worry. I can handle him,” she said, her normally porcelain complexion glowing pink. “You don’t have to fight everyone’s battle, you know.” She paused and touched Veronique’s hand gently. “I saw what happened on the news this morning…about Nick. What’s going on?”

By the time Veronique finished telling her everything, Natasha’s eyes were huge and her mouth was hanging open. “Oh. My. God,” she finally said. “I knew you had a huge crush on him at camp, but I had no idea it would carry into your adult life.”

“Yeah, and I fell hard this time. I’ve never been in love. You know that. But from the moment I saw him again, I knew I had to have him. The passion between us was stronger than Hurricane Abby.”

“Wait a minute. You two
slept
together?” Natasha said breathlessly.

“Yes. I even told him I loved him after the first time.” Veronique flinched at the memory.

“You did?” Natasha’s jaw dropped.

“You know me and my big mouth. No filter,” Veronique said, rolling her eyes.

“Aw, don’t be hard on yourself. That’s what makes you loveable,” Natasha said, hugging her.

“To you maybe, but I might have freaked Nick out. He was very sweet about it, but he never said he loved me back, even though he sure acted like it when we made love,” she said shivering at the erotic memory. “I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again.”

“I know the feeling.” Natasha’s eyes clouded with empathy.

“I’m sorry, Tash. I know what you went through with Ian.”

“It’s okay. I’m over him,” Natasha said, but Veronique knew better, especially when Tash looked away and avoided her gaze. “Ian was a long time ago, and I had to move on.” Their break up had been bad and years had passed since, yet the mere mention of Ian made Natasha miserable and regretful. Actress or not, she couldn’t hide it.

Veronique’s phone rang, but she didn’t answer. “It’s Nick. He’s been leaving me messages.”

“What does he say in them?”

“He wants me to call him back, but I don’t want to talk to him,” she muttered.

“Ronnie, you have to call him back. What if it’s something about the case?”

She listened to his message and said, “Holy cow. He’s downstairs.”

Natasha’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ll tell the doorman to let him come up.”

“No, I don’t want to see him or talk to him. I’m texting him instead.”

Veronique texted:
What do you want?

Nick:
To come upstairs and talk to you.

Veronique:
You can’t. I’m visiting with Natasha.

Nick:
Come downstairs then.

She willed strength into her backbone and blinked back hot tears as she texted back furiously:
Go away. I’m spending the night here at Natasha’s
.