Rise of the Notorious (11 page)

“Duke has become quite the asshole,” she announced, resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “He hates me.”

“No, it is not hate in his heart. It is just jealousy.”

“Close enough.” She shut her eyes tightly, willing back the misery she felt over the whole situation. Despite the isolation she felt from her family and the pressure to succeed, she had little doubt that she could do it. But lately with her grief still simmering under the surface of her cool reserve, she was having a hard time keeping her emotions at bay. “I didn’t ask for this, Raoul.”

“I know,” he murmured, caressing her hair gently. For a long moment he said nothing, lost in his own dark thoughts. When he spoke again, she noted that his voice had taken on a sharp, acidic edge. “I saw Wyatt Bailey sniffing around this place earlier today. Are you staying clear of him,
cariño
? Or do I need to chase him away for you?”

She laughed, her cynical nature rejoicing at the irony of the whole situation. “I don’t know what he’s doing here. Feel free to chase him off.”

“Are you seeing him again?” Raoul asked, snuffing out her laughter in one rapid beat. She pulled away and stared at him incredulously.

“Of course not. I’m not a fool.” She shot to her feet, restless irritation in her eyes as she began to pace. “He’s up to something, I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Raoul was quiet, choosing his next words carefully. “He is dangerous,
cariño.
Stay away from him.”

She paused, staring down at him with stone cold resolve in her eyes. “Did you really think I planned to do otherwise?”

When he said nothing, she turned and left the kitchen, even more volatile than when she had entered.

Raoul buried his face in his hands and cursed whatever sick twist of fate it was that had brought Wyatt Bailey to New York.

I
never liked this damn city,” Cy grumbled, gazing around with bored eyes at the elegantly dressed high society patrons who enjoyed dinner in
Cherir
. He much preferred the Hollywood crowd back in L.A., the leisure-rich with trouble free laughter and a laundry list of expensively dirty vices.

Regardless of his distaste for the atmosphere, he relaxed in the corner booth seat with his arms draped over the back rest casually. The crimson dress shirt he wore was deliberately unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in pure defiance of the northeastern pretentiousness of the establishment itself.

Across the table from him, Duke knocked back the rest of the Maker’s Mark whiskey in his glass, just as tired of New York as his cousin was. He held the glass up impatiently to catch the eye of the waitress before setting it down with a thump on the table. “The city is the least of our problems.”

Cy snickered, turning his attention from the dinner crowd and back to Duke. “So what do you suggest we do? The old-timers are getting antsy. They’ve been hanging out, heads together, conspiring about something most likely. Maybe they’ll just kill the bitch.”

Duke let out a dark laugh as the waitress dropped off more whiskey. He took another sip and sat up a bit straighter, his eyes hardening as he registered the weight behind the statement. He held up his glass and pointed a finger at his cousin decisively. “We can’t make any brash decisions here. If we’re going to stop her, we have to be clever about it.”

“And do what?” Cy demanded, reaching for his vodka tonic and sloshing it around irritably. “Let’s face it, she’s steamrolled us and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Duke leaned back comfortably, lifting his drink to his mouth before he spoke. “We’ll see about that.”

His eyes shot over his cousin’s shoulder then as he watched a man in faded jeans, a black t-shirt and a black fedora stroll into the restaurant. When they made eye contact, the man froze for the briefest of seconds. Surprise registered over his face before it was quickly replaced with easy confidence.

As the man walked toward them, Duke’s smile sharpened. “I’d heard you were slinking around, Wyatt. I wasn’t sure the rumors were true.”

Wyatt stopped before their table, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his jeans. The gesture of a handshake with these two went radically against his conscience. As a steadfast rule, he didn’t shake the hands of men he didn’t trust.

“I seem to inspire many rumors,” Wyatt said easily. “Then again, so do the Vassers.”

Duke snorted out a laugh, though it was filled with anything but humor. “The affairs of my family are none of your business. I thought you knew that by now?”

“And here I thought you considered me part of the family,” Wyatt replied dryly, turning to Cy when the other man started laughing.

“What are you even
doing
here, Bailey?” Cy asked in between laughs, shaking his head. “Are you seriously trying to get with our cousin again? I’m pretty sure that ship sailed when you left Vegas all those years ago. Though you’re much better off, in my opinion.”

Wyatt only continued to smile, his nonchalant attitude visibly irritating Duke—which was, of course, the plan. If he was going to talk with those bastards, he was going to have fun doing it. “You sure can read me like a book, Cy.”

Cy rolled his eyes, then lifted his drink in a mock toast. “Whatever the specifics, we’re all here because of that woman. She always was great at making men fall to their knees and submit.”

“Lesser men pale in the shadow of greatness,” Wyatt replied, his expression darkening as his eyes took on a sharper edge. He stared at both men, the easy humor fading to reveal his true loathing. It took them a moment to adjust to his swift change of mood, and he enjoyed the apprehension on their faces as he leaned closer, resting his hands on the table so he could meet their eyes evenly. “If she doesn’t squash you like the bugs you are, then you can bet I will.”

Duke recovered first with an arrogant smile. “You should go say hello to Raoul. He’s probably back there in the kitchen right now.”

Wyatt stiffened, an old hatred exploding through him. He avoided the instinctive urge to glance toward the kitchen and instead tipped his hat as he straightened, his mask of relaxed indifference sliding smoothly back into place.

“Maybe next time. See you around, gentlemen.”

He turned and left, his gait languid despite the toxic exchange. He imagined the looks of hatred on their faces as he made his way through the lobby and straight into the hotel’s upscale bar,
Amoureux
.

They would be wise to remember that he wasn’t afraid to do what had to be done to protect the only woman he had ever loved. Unfortunately for them, he intended to stick around for awhile to keep an eye on things.

If they made a move, any sort of move, in a direction that would hurt Madison, then he would kill them.

He wandered up to the crowded bar, flagging down the bartender with an impatient wave of his hand. Around him, some kind of European rock music was playing. Its techno beat blasted through the lofty, high-ceilinged room with a heavy bass intended to up the pulse and drown patrons in liquid emotion. From the look of the women who sauntered by and eyed him, he knew its effect was in full swing.

But he could care less about any of them. Sure, he could find himself a willing female to distract himself with, but he knew it would be anything but satisfying because she wouldn’t be the one woman he wanted. The one woman he had never been able to forget, who he happened to know was upstairs, working late. The temptation to go to her was choking him like a noose.

He ordered a shot of Patron and a Heineken; the shot he downed eagerly at the bar, the beer he took with him as he made his way toward the back where an empty table waited. He had barely settled into a seat when someone joined him.

“You still drinking that crap?” Linc asked with a grin, nodding at the beer Wyatt held.

Wyatt’s smile was immediate and instinctive, his mood almost instantly improved. “Beats whatever you’re drinking these days.”

Linc glanced down at his bottle of Corona and shrugged. “Still an improvement.” He held it up cheerfully in a toast that Wyatt accepted, their bottles tapping together merrily. “To the shit always managing to hit the fan right when we’re standing in front of it.”

Wyatt chuckled, taking a long pull from his beer before setting it down on the table, his eyes darkly amused. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

As Linc settled into his chair and relaxed, he eyed Wyatt with a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia. He noted the man was in some sort of mood and pondered over the source of it.

There had been a time, long ago, when they had been relatively close friends. They’d gambled together, shared memorable stories over a twelve-pack of beer, gone hiking and fishing in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. But even as he sat there and watched his old friend, Linc realized he had no real idea why the man was still in New York. In fact, he was still incredibly surprised that Wyatt had shown up at all.

Wyatt had always possessed a self-serving, wanderlust nature, which Linc blamed for him leaving Madison all those years before. It had been easier to assume that Wyatt had merely wanted out, and Linc wasn’t the kind to hold grudges the way Grant or Madison did.

But now…well, Linc remembered distinctly what had happened the night of the fundraiser and on the day of Cyrus’ funeral. Wyatt had been there, both times, undoubtedly to see Madison. Linc knew he’d have to be blind to have missed the rekindling of whatever it was that had been between his sister and his friend.

But what did it all mean? With everything else happening with the family, Linc knew this issue wasn’t entirely important. Yet he couldn’t beat back his desire to know what was going on. He just had to hope Wyatt would tell him the truth.

“The cops confirmed that there was PCP laced with the weed my dad had on the night he died,” Linc began, hedging his bets and starting at a point he knew was common ground between them. “Jorja’s been making the rounds on the talk shows, blaming me, Mads, the fucking hotel, Grant’s dog…”

Wyatt laughed, his free hand snaking its way through his bronzed hair. “She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?”

Linc snorted derisively, suddenly wishing for something stronger to drink. As a waitress passed by, he quickly flagged her down and ordered two double shots of tequila. When the waitress walked off, he turned back to Wyatt and sneered. “That damn actress has been the bane of my existence ever since she weaseled her way into my life.”

“If I remember right, the tabloids showed you all too willingly weaseling your way under her skirt at that bar on the West Side,” Wyatt mused, taking another sip of beer. “Or am I mistaken?”

Linc winced, shuddering at the memory. “What was I thinking?”

“You mean, what was your
cock
thinking?”

“That too.” Linc paused as the waitress dropped off the shot glasses filled to the brim with top-shelf tequila. He nudged one at Wyatt and then lifted his own in a second toast.

This time, Wyatt chimed in before Linc could decide what to toast to. “To the gorgeous redhead you’ve managed to capture. Thank God she replaced that Hollywood bitch.”

“Amen, brother.” Linc’s face lit with a bright grin as he knocked back the shot. He dropped the glass down upon the table cheerfully, already feeling much better about pretty much everything. Which led, of course, to a prompt loosening of his tongue and a swift loss of tact. “Alright, Bailey, I have to know. What’s going on between you and my sister?”

To his surprise, Wyatt burst out laughing, shaking with it as he leaned over the table. When he felt the dark amusement begin to fade, he lifted his eyes to meet his friend’s. “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to ask me about that.”

Linc shrugged lightly. “I don’t like to pry, but I’m a bit worried for you.”

“Worried?”

“She’s got a lot on her plate right now. I don’t know if you being here is necessarily a good thing for her,” Linc admitted, wanting to be honest. “With the scandal and all the death that’s been going on around here…she’s under a lot of pressure to keep everything together. The last thing she needs is to dwell on the past.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his temper in check. “I’m not here to rehash the past, Linc. I’m here to help her.”