Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy) (24 page)

“Am I?” I drop a kiss on her throat.

“And you’re better than average in bed.”

“Better thn average?” I smack her on the bum.

She giggles. “Good you’re good in bed.”

“Elizabeth.” A distinct warning in my voice.

She heaves out a deep sigh of contentment. “I love when you say my name.” She curls her arms around my neck and draws me down to her. “Mr. Storm, you rock my world.”

To say the least, dinner is delayed.

Late at night, my mobile rings. One of my guards. “Mr. Storm. The USVI police is here. They have some questions for you.”

What the blazes could they want at this time of night? I glance at my mobile. It’s fucking 2 o’clock in the morning.

Elizabeth stirs. But I tell her to go back to sleep, throw on a robe and pad to the suite’s door.

Outside, two-beefy looking individuals flash their badges at me. I let them in. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you Gabriel Storm?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know Matilda Phillips?”

Tilly’s name. “Yes.”

“You visited her this afternoon.”

“Yes. What’s wrong? Did something happen to her?”

“She was murdered in her home, stabbed to death.”

Chapter 31

______________

London

Elizabeth

IT’S BEEN TEN DAYS SINCE I LEFT THE ISLAND where Gabriel’s still being held. Apparently, he was the last one to see Tilly alive. They’d tracked him down through the car service. Limos rarely visited that part of the island, so when one showed up it’d sparked the curiosity of several neighbors, one going so far as to take a picture with her camera phone. So when police canvassed the neighborhood, she’d contributed her bit of news and the photo which led the police to Gabriel.

Originally taken in ‘for questioning,’ he’s now being held for suspicion of murder based on his fingerprints being found on the murder weapon—a knitting needle stabbed into Tilly’s heart. We haven’t talked since they took him, but Jake’s kept me informed. The company’s lawyer along with a criminal attorney have flown to the island. Jake hired additional investigators, island natives who knew the lay of the land, to get to the bottom of the murder. B
ut seemingly the wheels of justice grind slowly in the Virgin Islands, and things are not moving along as fast as we wish.

From the island, they flew me to D.C. where I remained only long enough to take my finals. After the last test, I wasn’t even given a chance to go home and pack, but had been driven directly from law school to the airport and dumped unceremoniously in Gabriel’s corporate jet. Marisol and Jorge had flown with me. An ominous sign, for it could only mean one thing. Our household was being transferred to London.

After ten days of not being allowed to so much as breathe the balcony air outside Gabriel’s penthouse, I’m going stir crazy. With Christmas fast approaching, I long for at least a glimpse of the holiday spirit to brighten my mood. Marisol and Jorge have done their best decorating the place, providing festive meals. But I miss the holiday sights. No matter how busy I’d been with school and work in D.C., I always made time to visit the White House and Capitol Christmas trees. And London seems a veritable feast for the senses, what with Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London, never mind the shopping on Bond Street.

I’ve been allowed three phone calls—one each to Casey, CeCe and my job. My friends commiserated with the turn of events. My job seemed quite amenable to my extended leave. Of course they did. Last thing they want would be to alienate Gabriel. Well, at least I’d finished all my projects before my wedding, so I hadn’t left anything hanging.

“I’m going out.” I announce to the one guard assigned to me today—baby-faced Jonathan. Samuel certainly wouldn’t let me walk out the door, and neither would Martha or Rick. But Jonathan’s younger and less experienced than them.

“Ma’am?” he says.

“You heard me. I’m going out.”’

“Mr. Taylor left explicit instructions you were to remain inside, Ma’am.”

I hitch up my chin. “He might be the boss of you, but he’s not the boss of me.”

While the wheels turn in his head, I make a break for the elevator, insert the card I found among Gabriel’s things into the slot. It will allow me to not only use the lift, but open the gate down below.

“Mrs. Storm, you can’t leave.” He chokes out.

“Watch me.” The door starts to slide close, but I strong arm it. “If you want to accompany me, jump in.” He’ll get intro trouble if he loses sight of me.

He jumps in. “Mr. Taylor will not be happy.”

“Right now, I don’t give a rat’s ass about Mr. Taylor’s feelings. I need to be outside. See some sun. Walk.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He desperately pushes buttons on his phone, speaks into it, giving my break for freedom report. When we reach the ground floor, I sail through the metal gate and The Brighton’s lobby. and out the door where the doorman snaps to attention.

“Lady Ainsley.”

“Could you get me a taxi, please?”

“Mrs. Storm!” Jonathan has his cell phone glued to his ear.

I stop from getting into the taxi.

“Mr. Taylor says you are to return back upstairs. Right now.”

“Well, Jonathan. You have a choice. You can either put your hands on me and drag me bodily upstairs, something I would not recommend seeing how I’m six and a half months along and a tussle might harm the baby, or you can get in the cab with me.”

He slides into the cab.

“Wise man.”

“I’m gonna lose me job because of ye.” His cockney accent, the one he’s tried so hard to suppress, slithers out.

“No, you won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Where to?”

“Waterstone’s on Oxford Street.”

Jonathan swallows hard. “That’s a right busy place.”

“Yes, it is. I’m going Christmas shopping.” I found money among Gabriel’s things, and I have my American Express as well.

By the time we arrive at Waterstone’s, Samuel and Rick, are waiting for us. Samuel doesn’t even try to argue with me, but simply talks into his wrist to report his location. Good thing Jake’s in the Virgin Islands because HE would not hesitate to lay his hands on me and haul me back to The Brighton.

For a while I’m in shopping heaven with Jonathan dogging my every step. I hand things to him, books, doo dads, Christmas gifts for Royce and Brianna. And, of course, Gabriel.

After an hour, my energy’s flagging so I stop at the cafe to have a quick bite to eat. I wander outside to window shop. My bodyguards eyeball people so hard, the shoppers give me a wide berth as they pass by.

I set up a faster walking pace. Well, as fast as my belly will allow. At first the kinks are hard to get out but as I move from block to block my muscles warm, loosen. I swing my arms up and down to get circulation n them. I’m on top of the world until I spot a loving couple holding hands. The man looks so much like Gabriel, blonde blue eyed. He leans over to whisper something in his girlfriend’s ear. She laughs and kisses him. When he strokes her cheek, my heart twists with longing, and my eyes mist.

Damn it! I’m not going to break down and cry. Not in the middle of Oxford Street. I slow down, breathe in and out. But nothing diminishes the great big lump in my throat. Soon a tear spills out before I can catch it. Thankfully, my guards are scrutinizing the passersby. They’re rushing past so fast no one notices my meltdown.

When another sob breaks out, I stop walking altogether and head toward a storefront. A baby boutique with the cutest baby clothes. A stroller, blankets, those thingamajigs that you put in a baby’s room to hear the baby. What are they called? Oh, right, baby monitors. More delicate baby clothes, blues and pinks. And it occurs to me I haven’t bought one single thing for our child. What kind of a mother-to-be am I that I haven’t bought one single thing?

I’ve been busy yes, with work and school and the wedding, but online stores are only a click away. I could have made time to order something, anything. If I don’t care enough to buy something for our child, what kind of mother will I be? A lousy one, that’s what. I dip my head so no one can see the tears, not even the lady inside the store who’s now looking at me with concern. So deep into my pity party am I, I fail to hear the commotion behind me until hands grasp my shoulders and turn me around.

“What the blazes are you doing out here?”

Chapter 32

______________

Elizabeth

GABRIEL’S FACE IS LINED and his clothes are rumpled but he looks so, so good. I throw my arms around him and shower kisses all over his beloved face. “You’re here. You’re here.”

A confused look rumbles over his face. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Have you been crying?”

“No. Yes. I missed you.”

His face softens. “Have you, love?”

He steps into me and finally, finally kisses me the way I’ve been dreaming for the last ten days. I don’t even care his week-old beard chafes my skin, all I care about is him safe once more. Here, in my arms.

We’re so lost in our world, whispering inanities to each other, we fail to see or hear the crowd surrounding us until somebody yells “Get a room, mate.”

We break apart to find a whole slew of strangers surrounding us. Somebody takes a picture, somebody else whistles.

He ducks his head, drops a kiss on my nose. “What is this place?” He nods toward the storefront window.

“Baby boutique.”

“Let’s go inside so we can have some privacy.” Tugging my hand, he leads me through the door.

The saleswoman who greets us is in her fifties with an upswept do that manages to project both a grandmotherly and sophisticated vibe at the same time. “How may I help you, Mr. and Mrs. Storm?”

My jaw drops. “You know who we are?”

“All of London knows who you are.” She smiles a very kind smile.

The doorbell jingles as a person walks in. He points a camera ready to snap a picture of us, but the saleswoman marches up to him and pushes him out the door. “Sorry, we’re closed.” She flips the “Close” sign and locks the door before turning back to us.

“Thank you.” Gabriel says.

“Not a problem, Mr. Storm. Now, my name is Mrs. Robbins. How may I help you?” She has a shrewd businesswoman look to her. Obviously, she knows a golden goose when she sees one.

“We need”—Gabriel looks around the store, scratches his head. “Everything.”

“Boy or a girl?”

“Boy,” both Gabriel and I say.

“How wonderful for you.” She probably would have said the same thing if we’d said girl.

We order rattles and bibs, the baby monitor in the window, tons of clothes. He defers purchasing the baby stroller. He wants to research them and get the best one. He’s actually enjoying this. While I listen to him chit chat, my heart spills over with love for this man.

“Have you chosen a theme?” Mrs. Robbins asks.

“Theme?” Gabriel and I ask. Seemingly, he’s as clueless as I.

“For the baby’s room.”

“Err, no.”

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?”

Does she have our number or what?

“I have a couple of designers on staff who do marvelous work and that’s not just me saying that. They’ve won design awards. I’m positive they would love to do your baby’s room.”

“They?”

“They work as a pair. Brilliant, really. Tim and Tom Worley. May I send them over to discuss what you would like?”

Gabriel looks at me. “What do you think, darling?”

I melt at the endearment and the look on his face, even though I know it’s all for show. Speechless, I nod.

She retrieves an appointment book from her desk. “What day would work best for you?”

“Actually, I’ll have to check my schedule. I just got back from an out of town trip.”

“Yes, I know. I hope the difficulties have been resolved.”

Difficulties. Well, that’s one way of putting it.

“Yes, they have. Permanently,” he says gazing at me.

For the first time in the last ten days, I take a full breath.

“Here’s my card. That’s not only the store number but my own personal cell. Give me a call anytime and we’ll set up a time for Tim and Tom.”

“Brothers? Imagine that.”

“Oh, no dear. They’re married. Tim took Tom’s last name. They couldn’t quite pass up that opportunity.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Robbins.”

“You’re most welcome, dear.” She pats my hand. Now, don’t you worry. I’ll have everything delivered by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Oh?”

“Or do you wish to take some things with you.”

I nod. “Yes, please.” I choose about twenty outfits and the baby monitor. Don’t know why I’m fascinated by the darn thing, but I am.

She places everything in beautiful bags, ties the bags with gorgeous bows. And hands the whole thing to Gabriel who accepts it with a surprised look on his face. “You’re doing most of the hard work, dear. Let him do his share.”