Shopping for an Heir (17 page)

“Yeah. Works his ass off.”

“Don’t we all?”

Gerald’s phone buzzed.

You two play this round. Need to manage an issue for fifteen minutes.

The text was from Declan.

“He’s out for this game. Says he’ll be back in fifteen.”

Vince snorted and took his shot. “Their lives really suck.” The scratch ball went in the right corner pocket.

“So does your aim.”

Fishing the ball out of the pocket with hands better suited for picking up small cars, Vince grumbled a string of unintelligible syllables.

“Billionaires with plenty of money but no time to enjoy it. Being rich means being busy,” Vince finally said.

Gerald stayed silent.

“Hey, man—take your shot. Waiting for an engraved invitation?”

Gerald took his shot. The ball rolled aimlessly to the edge and stopped, an inch from target.

“So close, yet so far. How’re things with Suzanne? You tell her the truth yet?”

Shit. Vince didn’t just go straight to the heart of the matter. He went to the bone.

“What?”

“Your biggest fear. You told me the other day. Remember?”

Silence.

“You have to tell her.”

“I did.”

“The whole story?” Vince raised an eyebrow as he elegantly shot the striped nine into the right side pocket.

“Most of it.”

“‘Most’ is not ‘whole.’ You graduated college. You should know that.”

“Not talking about this, Vince.”

“That’s your problem, Gerald. It’s how you lost her ten years ago. By not talking about it.”

“I’m not one of your clients.”

“I’m telling you this as a
friend
.”

They stared at each other.

Bzzz.

Text from Suzanne.

Kulli is here. Hopewell house. Weird. Might be late.

And that was it.

“Shit.” Fire poured through his veins.

Vince picked up on it immediately.

“I have to go,” he said curtly.

“Afraid you’ll lose to....” Vince’s voice dropped off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Something. I have to go meet Suzanne.”

He sprinted, hearing Vince call out, “Be whole!”

Kulli wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt Suzanne.

He knew that.

What Gerald feared was worse.

Kulli might tell her the
whole
truth about why he left her.

And once again, Gerald hadn’t trusted her with the truth.

No. That wasn’t right.

Gerald didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth.

T
he Hopewell mansion
wasn’t
. Suzanne had to laugh as she pulled into a rare parking spot on the Back Bay and realized she was about to go to your basic townhouse in a long row of them. Hopewell had more money than James McCormick but lived a life under the radar.

She admired that.

The artifact rested in a small case, under glass, in a room one walked into, surrounded by subdued security that Suzanne knew was high tech and designed to be inconspicuous. The relic wasn’t the only item on display, but she forced herself not to pay attention to the others.

They weren’t her focus.

Footsteps. The carpet muted them, but she heard the steady beats as they slowed. The person was clearly coming closer. Security? The person from the MFA? Prepared to turn around, she halted as the person spoke.

“Hello, Suzanne. Fancy meeting you here.”

Her shoulders hunched. She fought to lower them. When a guy like Harrison Kulli approaches you from behind, any movement, any show of emotion was a sign of weakness. Guys like him thrived on it.

On reaction.

On knowing they’d gotten to you, even in the smallest of ways.

“Harrison,” she said. Trying to play it cool, she reached for her phone, quickly typing a few words to Gerald. She hit Send and slowly put the phone back in her purse.

“Recognized me by my voice, did you?”

“No. By the faint scent of brimstone.”

He laughed through his nose, but the sound was tight. She’d gotten to him.

Good.

“I’m hardly the devil.”

“No. You’re not intelligent enough. But you’ll do as one of his minions.”

And with that, she spun around on her heel, taking great care to look down in order to make eye contact.

He was pissed. You had to have spent two years under his command to know that, though. A stranger would see a placid man, a face that gave no quarter.

Harrison Kulli was a compact man, wiry and strong, Standing at about five foot three inches, he exuded anger. It radiated out of him like musk.

That quality had been fabulous in battle, commanding troops.

In civilian life it had only one truly good purpose.

A purpose used by men in power.

Suzanne had done her research, trying to figure out who Kulli worked for. She’d failed. Whoever his client was, the cloak of anonymity was secure.

She didn’t much care. She knew what Gerald would decide. But Kulli’s presence definitely complicated the matter. Over the years, she’d come to wonder whether he’d played a role in Gerald’s leaving her. Call it a hunch. Or intuition.

Maybe just a grudge.

Because Kulli had hit on her more than once out in the desert.

Luckily, the guy took
no
—twice—for an answer.

Barely.

“Gerald isn’t with you?”

“I can’t speak about my client. Confidentiality.”

“Listen to you. Such a lawyer. I never pegged you for a shark.”

She studied him, not giving in. The less said, the better.

“You look the same, Harrison.” That was designed to be a blow. The guy had clearly bulked up, arms bursting out of an expensive Armani suit. He looked nothing like the rat he’d been years ago.

“The last decade’s been good to me,” he countered, making sure to flash his Rolex.

Were watches the new in-person dick pic?

Steve Raleigh. That’s who he reminded her of.

Harrison Kulli was a slimier version of Steve Raleigh.

Nothing about Kulli’s demeanor made her afraid. They were in the exhibition room with two armed guards at the entrance, dressed in plain clothes. Given the amount of objects of high value, and the rotation of estate lawyers and appraisers, heirs and household staff, she knew Kulli wouldn’t do anything to put her in harm’s way.

His very presence, though, and that question about Gerald gave her pause.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m here to meet with a representative from the Museum of Fine Arts,” she declared, making it clear this conversation was over.

“You’re looking at him.”

“You’re Randita Mugheeri?” Her glare held nothing back.

“Actually, I am. Your phone number was easy to find, if you know where to look.”

Adrenaline shot through her. She conspicuously looked at the guards. Both were the same men she’d recognized from the other day. She pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1 without pressing Send.

Always be prepared.

“You two back together again?” he asked, the casual tone jarring.

“What?”

“You and Gerald. You two back together?”

“Mr. Wright is my client,” she said frostily, starting to walk toward the door to leave. This was a set-up.

“‘Mr. Wright’? Aren’t you getting fancy, Suzanne. Most people don’t refer to their ex-fiancé like that. Then again, after what he did to you...”

All those years ago, she’d been tight-lipped. Had not said a word to anyone about how Gerald had broken up with her. Only Kari and her parents had known.

A cold flush covered her body, heart hot inside her chest.

She didn’t respond. Bait. He was baiting her.

“I can understand it, though.”

She held her breath.

“You do know why he broke it off with you, right?” His voice was like poison ivy coated in velvet.

“Mr. Wright is my client in the capacity of—”

“He never told you, did he?” Kulli inhaled slowly, the sound passing over his back teeth like a snake’s hiss.

Say nothing
, she screamed inside.
He’s playing a dangerous psych game.

“He stole the relic. Stole it, and brought it home when his mother was sick. Came back and was with you for just a few more months before he was discharged. Gerald was never the same. You know I counseled him?”

Suzanne fought back the snort of disbelief that rose up in her.

“He held on. The curse got to him, though.”

“Curse?” She infused as much condescension as possible into one word.

“Yeah, curse. That damned relic may be one of the oldest objects with writing on it ever found, Suz.”

Don’t call me Suz
, she thought.

“He was never the same after he brought it back. And then the nightmares about you started.”

“What are you talking ab—” Damn it. He’d succeeded.

He knew it, too.

“Got your attention, didn’t it? Convince him to sell to my client and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“I can’t ethically do that and you know it.”

“You can’t ethically handle a nearly-priceless relic that doesn’t exist, Suz. Don’t take the moral high ground here.”

“We’re done, Kulli. I won’t advise my client to take action he doesn’t want to take.”

“He’d be stupid to give it all up. Just like when he gave you up. That’s what Wright does, though. He cuts and runs. Once he donates that relic, he’ll disappear again.”

Her throat seized.

Kulli knew he’d hit a nerve. “Didn’t think about that, did you? If he has a big pot of money following him around, he can’t run off. But if he donates, he leaves. Just like he left you ten years ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Not so much power now, huh, Suzanne? You always were easy to break. Wright, too. It’s not too late, though. My client wants that relic. Wants it bad. He’ll go to $60 million.”

“I’ll advise Mr. Wright.”

“Why are you so loyal to him?”

“He is my client,” she persisted.

“After what he wanted to do to you?”

Years of law school and legal work had attuned her to the subtleties of language.

“
Wanted
to do to me?”

Kulli’s eyes went hooded, mouth curling in contempt. “I was his CO. He spilled his guts one night. I know why he needed to leave. And why he broke it off with you.”

“I know that, too. PTSD. It happens to the best of men and women who serve in combat.”

“Worst, too,” Kulli said sourly.

“You don’t need to illuminate me, Harrison. Whatever you think you’re accomplishing with this conversation, you’re not—”

Commotion in the outer hall made her turn sharply, head ringing with Kulli’s words and the not-so-distant sound of men arguing.

And then Gerald rushed into the room, eyes wild, body primed to fight.

Wearing a gun.

“Gerald couldn’t stop thinking about
killing
you, Suzanne,” Kulli said, his voice soft and compassionate, but his eyes alight with an evil joy at delivering the shocking emotional blow to her. He completely ignored Gerald, but she realized with dawning disgust that Gerald was his real audience. “That’s why he left. He was being driven crazy by thoughts of killing
you
.”

Very carefully, Gerald moved his hands from his chest holster, and then moved like a flash of lightning as security guards poured into the room.

Seconds too late.

The blow rolled out in slow motion, Kulli’s clean-shaven jaw hooking left so fast it seemed like it was a separate body part from the rest of him, as if it would have ricocheted off a far wall if the layer of skin stretched over bone hadn’t been there. Gerald’s mouth stretched, more teeth showing than she thought a face should have as he grimaced in battle, a glint of gold from a back molar shining in the room’s overhead light.

A spray of Kulli’s blood, a long drop gone to spatter, hit her directly on the exposed skin above the V of her shirt, a drop sliding down between her breasts.

Mayhem.

Mayhem
erupted
.

Kulli centered himself quickly, bending his knees, arms whipped into fight mode, his suit jacket pulled tight around the elbows and shoulders, an impediment as seconds turned into minutes. Without any such obstacle, Gerald’s blows were rapid fire, like a machine gun array, rat-a-tat-tat,
punch punch punch
.

“STOP IT!” she screamed, her reaction to Kulli’s revelation truncated by the rush of fight hormones that coursed through her as she started to reach for Gerald, to pull him off, as his fist smashed into Kulli’s eye once, twice, and then they were down on the ground, a mass of enraged muscle and senseless breaths, grunts and groans and blows filling the air.

Guards poured into the room, six of them on top of Gerald and Kulli, the mass of body parts and movement and blood a bastardized version of the old kids’ game, Twister.

Only these guards had guns, zip-tie handcuffs, and authority.

Within seconds Gerald was on the ground, gun removed, face down, wrists cuffed, with Kulli screaming, “He started it! Check the video!”

And then Kulli kicked Gerald in the head, the thump of shoe against skull making a sickening sound like a melon dropped from a rooftop. Gerald twitched, then slumped against the carpet, out cold.

Red rage filled her vision.

Two guards dragged Kulli away from Gerald as she advanced, throwing off her jacket, ready to do damage.

She stopped.

She breathed.

She closed her eyes, the cacophony too much.

Enough damage had been done. Jail for her wouldn’t help Gerald, and could be career suicide. Barely able to manage her impulse control, she struggled, but found the place inside that said to stop.

The place Gerald couldn’t access ten seconds ago.

She couldn’t blame him. If what Kulli said was true...

Dropping to the floor, she checked Gerald. Pulse was fine. Breathing was regular. He had blood from cuts on his knuckles, but was otherwise okay.

Being a former medic had its pluses.

“I’m pressing charges!” Kulli screamed.

“You just kicked him unconscious!” she roared, searching her jacket for her cell phone, pressing Send to complete the 9-1-1 call she’d primed earlier.

“He started it!”

“And you finished it while his arms were tied behind his back? You fucking sick piece of cowardly shit,” she said, her voice dangerously low.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

The police hauled Gerald off to jail.

But damned if she didn’t get them to take Kulli, too.

Video works both ways.

* * *

B
ailing
her ex-fiancé out of jail after he assaulted their former commanding officer in front of a rare artifact that could change the world’s understanding of its origins wasn’t on her Google calendar for the day, but Suzanne did it anyhow.

“Thank you,” he muttered as she pulled him aside roughly and examined his injuries under a blinking fluorescent light.

“Ow!” Her fingers pressed against the butterfly bandage. Kulli’s kick had split his eyebrow. A red spot where the toe had connected with the temple wasn’t pretty and would go through the bruise color cycle over the next two weeks.

“If you think that hurts, just wait.”

“What does that mean?” he grumbled.

She walked away. Marched out into the cold urban landscape where she’d rather talk to a homeless guy than Gerald right now.

He followed her.

Slowly, but he did.

“What in the hell did you think you were doing back there, Gerald?” She whipped around, heedless of passersby.

“Rescuing you!”

“I don’t need to be rescued, damn it! I need to be loved. Trusted. Was Kulli telling the truth?”