Sweet Talk (11 page)

ELEVEN

O
livia could have sworn Tom Cruise stopped by to say hello. Then Grayson appeared and shooed him away.

She floated in and out of consciousness. Everything was a blur, and visions swirled around in her head: snow and paper bags flying through the air and John’s face at the window and a thin crimson line streaming across the white earth. Then, out of the fog, Grayson’s face appeared. Why was he there? Did he want to kiss her again? She couldn’t focus enough to find out, and she drifted away once more.

The next time she came to, she felt something cold on her head. She forced her eyes open and saw Grayson leaning over her. She closed them again. She was hallucinating. Focus, she told herself. She knew she was dreaming and needed to make herself wake up. Yet, when she looked again, he was there. He was no illusion.

When he moved the cold pack on her head, she felt the throbbing pain. She opened her mouth to complain but nothing came out. Her throat was so sore.

Finally in a raspy voice she managed to whisper, “What is it with you and ice?”

“What is it with you getting hit in the head?” He smiled as he added, “The nurse wants you to keep this on your bump.”

“Bump?”

“I think you slammed your head into the brick wall outside your building.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

He didn’t have a ready answer to her question. She struggled to sit up and felt pain all the way down to her toes.

“Be useful. Help me sit up.”

“You are sitting up.”

She closed her eyes. “Go away.” She wanted to stay awake, but the fog was descending again and she couldn’t fight it.

The next time she woke up, she was lucid and feeling half human. She looked around. She was in a room filled with vases of flowers, and Dr. Andre Pardieu was standing at the foot of the bed reading her chart.

“Bonjour, Docteur.”

“Ah, you’re back with us,” he said.

“I have to give Jane some blood.”

“No, not now. You need to rebuild your strength, then you can help her.”

Their conversation continued in rapid French. Grayson stood in the doorway listening. It was apparent the physician had great affection for Olivia. Grayson could have sworn he heard him call her Pipsqueak.

At the end of their talk, Dr. Pardieu switched back to English. “Now that I see you’re all right, I’ll keep my plans to go to France. I’ll be in Paris for a conference, and then I’ll be going on a holiday with my family. If you need me, you know how to get hold of me.” He kissed her on the forehead before he left the room.

Olivia was looking out the window when Grayson walked in, and she hadn’t noticed him watching her. He wondered how anyone could look that good after being shot three times. Her face was pale, but she was still beautiful. Her dark auburn hair spilled out on the pillow behind her.

She caught him staring at her. Those clear blue eyes locked on his. Then he walked over to the window ledge and leaned against it. He folded his arms across his chest and said, “How are you feeling?”

“All things considered, pretty good,” she replied.

What was he doing here? she wanted to ask. How did he get involved in this? One silly kiss, then two months without a word. Message received, she thought. He obviously hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with her and had moved on. Damn it, so had she.

“Are you ready to answer some questions?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I do remember,” she said, surprised that she did. “But it won’t help much. There was a black SUV parked at the end of the block. The motor was running, and I remember thinking that he was waiting for someone. Guess he was waiting for me, wasn’t he?”

“Apparently so.”

The topic of the conversation was horrific, she thought, yet they were both acting and sounding so casual about it. Olivia knew Grayson must be used to dealing with attempted murders and all sorts of other awful happenings. He was a pro at this sort of thing. Nothing much seemed to faze him. She, on the other hand, was a novice.

“Could you see anyone in the SUV?”

“No, the windows were tinted, and it was snowing. Visibility wasn’t good. The driver was on my side of the street. And that’s it, Grayson. That’s all I know.” She smiled and waited for his next question.

“That’s it, huh?” he said.

“I should call my aunt. I don’t want her to worry.”

“I talked to her.”

“You did? You didn’t upset her, did you?”

“No, of course not. Hearing that you’d been shot three times didn’t upset her at all.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “She’s in Palm Springs.”

“No, she’s on her way here.”

Olivia asked him about her boss and her friend Jane, but she didn’t mention her parents or her sister.

“Just a couple of questions, and I’ll let you rest while I go talk to Judge Bowen and Judge Thorpe,” he said.

“They’re here?”

He nodded. “So is your boss, Thurman. They’re in the waiting room discussing their contempt for an attorney named Simmons.”

“I’d like to see them.”

“There are about twenty other people waiting to say hello and make sure you’re all right.”

“I’ll talk to Judge Bowen, and—”

“After I talk to them,” he said. “But before I go . . . do you have any idea who might have done this?”

“Don’t you mean, who wants me dead?”

“Yes.”

She started wiggling fingers on her right hand, then her left, as she counted. Then her right hand again.

“At least fifteen people would like to get rid of me,” she said.

“Did you include Jorguson?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “Should I? That makes it sixteen people who would like me to disappear. I’m sure there are more. I’ll be happy to write their names down for you.”

He thought she was joking. He walked over to the side of her bed, towering over her. “This is a serious matter, Olivia,” he said.

“I am being serious, Grayson.”

“Your aunt told me she couldn’t imagine anyone would want to harm you. She said you’re sweet and kindhearted.”

“I’m not.” She sounded disgruntled.

He wasn’t going to argue with her. He turned to leave and stopped, remembering the other question he wanted to ask. “When we were having lunch, you told me you had a goal you wanted to accomplish.”

“Yes.” She’d hoped he’d forgotten the conversation.

“Does your goal have anything to do with the number of people who would like to get rid of you?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to explain, but she remained stubbornly silent. “We aren’t playing twenty questions,” he snapped. “What’s your goal, Olivia?”

She knew he would eventually find out what she was trying to do. What did she care if he thought she was a vindictive, traitorous daughter? Doing the right thing was more important than the guilt she felt.

“I’m going to put my father in prison.”

* * *

After talking to Judge Bowen, Judge Thorpe, and Royal Thurman, Grayson understood their contempt for the attorney Carl Simmons. Suggesting that Olivia was a drug addict at a very young age when, in fact, she had gone through chemotherapy was despicable, and Grayson personally wanted to throw the bastard into a wall.

He spent the next several hours finding out all he could about Olivia that wasn’t on her résumé. Her aunt Emma was a great help. Despite the weather, she had managed to get back to D.C., and they sat together in the nearly deserted hospital cafeteria discussing Olivia’s past and her contentious relationship with her immediate family. Emma began by telling him about the experimental program Olivia and three other young girls were part of and a little of what they had endured.

“Olivia wouldn’t be happy I’m telling you about this,” Emma said. “She’s a very private person. Her relationship with her parents was strained even back then. I didn’t realize for a long time that none of them—her father, her mother, nor her sister—ever came to see Olivia when she was allowed visitors at the hospital. Olivia was all alone.”

Grayson didn’t show any reaction to what she was telling him, but he now understood why Olivia helped kids who didn’t have anyone to watch out for them. She knew what it was like.

“Tell me about her father.”

“Robert MacKenzie is one of the most charismatic men you’ll ever meet. He could sell you a beach house in the Arctic. He walks into a room, and he owns it. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“In the past Robert has run several companies. Each one ended up going under, yet Robert did quite well. He got his salary and bonus when he resigned. He’s always lived extravagantly. When he bought a home in New York, I thought he would divorce my sister, but that didn’t happen. She’s still with him.”

“He was CEO of these companies?”

“Yes. It was all legal,” she said.

“Now he runs his own investment firm?”

“That’s right, the Trinity Fund, and it’s quite successful. On paper anyway. Olivia knows several people who have given her father their retirement funds to invest. They all get quarterly statements showing how well their investments are doing. She’s seen how her father works, and she’s convinced this is just another one of his scams.”

“She thinks he’s running a Ponzi scheme?”

“If he is, she hasn’t been able to prove it. Shall we head back upstairs? I’d like to say good-bye to Olivia and find out if she needs me to bring her anything.”

Grayson walked by Emma’s side to the elevator. He was lost in thought. “What do
you
think of Robert MacKenzie?”

“I agree with Olivia. He should be in prison.”

The number of people on Olivia’s enemy list made sense now. She’d been asking questions and probing, bringing attention to her father’s firm. She probably had already gone to the SEC, and the men raking in the money wouldn’t like that one little bit.

A woman in a wheelchair was coming out of Olivia’s room when they arrived. A slender young man was pushing the chair. Emma introduced Olivia’s friend Jane and her brother, Logan, to Grayson.

Logan extended his hand and said, “You’re gonna catch this guy, right?”

“Yes,” Grayson assured him.

“When are you going home, Jane?” Emma asked.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll come back in a month or so when Olivia’s strength is back.”

“Olivia is giving Jane some of her blood,” Logan explained. “It’s got antibodies she needs. Right, Jane?”

“Yes,” she said. “Olivia’s worn-out, so I wouldn’t stay long. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Logan has a meeting to attend.”

“And you need rest,” he told Jane.

Emma and Grayson watched until they turned the corner. Then Emma said, “Jane doesn’t look at all well, does she? She’s so pale.”

Grayson thought Jane’s brother looked just as sickly. When Emma went on into Olivia’s room, he stopped to go over the schedule with the agent on duty tonight. After that, he called Ronan to talk about Robert MacKenzie’s investment firm and found out that Ronan had already dug into Olivia’s family and had come up with all sorts of possibilities for those relatives who might want Olivia out of the way. He wondered if Olivia knew that her brother-in-law, George, had a gambling problem and had recently taken out another mortgage on his home to pay some of his debts.

By the time Grayson ended his conversation with Ronan, Emma had left and Olivia was alone. He checked his watch as he entered her room. He needed to head home soon. Now that his nephew was living with him, he tried to eat dinner with him as often as possible to give him some kind of stable home life.

Olivia was fighting sleep. The television was on, and she was trying to watch the news. Her eyelids kept closing on her. She saw Grayson and asked, “Why are you here? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Were you assigned to this investigation?”

“No,” he answered. “I asked for it.”

The pain medication was kicking in, and she was feeling a bit loopy. “Because of Jorguson.”

“No, because of you.”

She frowned. “Let’s get something straight.”

“All right,” he agreed. “What?”

She looked at him. “What?”

“You wanted to get something straight.”

She remembered. “You better understand, Grayson. I’m never going to ask you to kiss me again.”

He smiled. “You won’t need to.”

His cell phone rang, interrupting the moment, which was a good thing, he thought, because he was seriously thinking about kissing her. He knew that he wouldn’t give in to the urge, but he didn’t like the fact that he wanted her.

His nephew was calling to remind him that he had to build a solar system and that Grayson had promised to help.

“What solar system?”

“
The
solar system,” Henry stressed.

“This is the first I’m hearing about this, Henry.”

“I was sure I told you, and I thought you said you would help me.”

“When is it due?” he asked, thinking that he would make time this weekend to help him.

“Tomorrow.”

Ah, come on. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes, and we need stuff.”

“What stuff?” Grayson wondered.

“Stuff to make it. Like Styrofoam and string maybe.”

Grayson noticed that Olivia’s head was back on her pillow and her eyelids were at half-mast, but she was smiling. She obviously thought the conversation was amusing. He didn’t. This parent “stuff” was a bitch.

“Okay. I’m on my way home.” He ended the call and said, “I guess you got all that.”

“How old is he?”

“He turned nine two weeks ago.”

“And you need to build a solar system?”

“Apparently so. I’ll be driving all over town looking for supplies. I better get going.”

“Good luck,” she whispered and fell sound asleep.

TWELVE

T
he night before Olivia was released from the hospital, her aunt Emma came to visit and insisted that Olivia move into her home to recuperate. Olivia refused. She told her aunt she wanted to sleep in her own bed and not be fussed over. In truth, she didn’t want to put Emma in any danger, and as long as the shooter was still out there, everyone around Olivia was at risk.

As Emma was leaving, Grayson and Ronan walked in. Emma smiled at the agents and said, “Grayson, in all this confusion I forgot to ask about your father. How is he doing?”

“Better,” he answered but didn’t expound.

Olivia was curious to know what had happened to his father but thought it would be intrusive to ask. She’d have to wait until she and Emma were alone to find out the details. Not that it was any of her business, she reminded herself. She had made up her mind to maintain a professional relationship with Grayson and not to ask any personal questions.

“Please give him my best,” Emma said. She turned to Olivia. “I’ll be here early tomorrow to drive you home.”

Grayson stepped forward. “I . . . we feel it would be best if I took Olivia home . . . for security reasons,” he said.

“All right,” Emma responded. She gave Olivia a kiss on the forehead and left.

Grayson had a list of questions he wanted to ask Olivia, particularly about her brother-in-law and the debt he had incurred. Did she know about it? Did her sister? From what he had discovered thus far, Olivia’s relationship with her family was strained at best. In the days she had been in the hospital, he hadn’t seen any member of Olivia’s immediate family come to visit.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to ask any of his questions. A constant stream of visitors, several phone calls, and her exhaustion overrode his agenda. He decided to wait until tomorrow to talk about her family.

The following morning, he drove her home from the hospital but didn’t bring up the obviously uncomfortable subject of her relatives. When Grayson announced that an off-duty policeman would be arriving soon to keep watch outside her door, she protested. As long as she stayed inside her apartment, she insisted, she was safe. Grayson listened to her argument and ignored it, stating emphatically that the guard was not negotiable.

They had just reached her apartment and Olivia was fishing through her purse for her key when a door at the end of the hall opened and an elderly woman wearing a pink chenille bathrobe stepped out. Her thin white hair was held away from her bony face by two bobby pins, and her lips were pursed to give a breathy whistle. When Olivia looked in her direction, the woman crooked her finger and motioned for her to come closer.

“Hello, Mrs. Delaney,” Olivia said as she approached the woman.

“Olivia, dear, I need milk.” As she spoke, Mrs. Delaney was peering around Olivia and looking suspiciously at Grayson.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia said, “I’m afraid I won’t be going to the store for a few days, but I’ll be happy to get you some milk when I shop again.”

Mrs. Delaney looked perturbed. “All right,” she said. “I’ll call down to John and have him bring me some when he comes to work tomorrow, but he always buys the wrong kind. I specifically ask for two percent, and he inevitably brings me whole milk. That’s just too rich for me. My nervous stomach won’t tolerate it.”

“I understand,” Olivia answered patiently. “I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m going to the supermarket, and you can give me a list.”

“Good,” Mrs. Delaney said and turned to go back into her apartment. “Get me some of those lemon cookies, the ones with the icing on top, not the plain ones like you got me last time.” Grayson and Olivia could hear her adding to her list even as she was closing the door.

“She doesn’t like to go out in the cold,” Olivia explained.

“Sounds like she’s rather particular.”

“A little,” Olivia laughed. “She’s all alone, and I don’t mind helping out when I can.”

Grayson took the key from Olivia’s hand and inserted it into the lock. “You may act tough, but you have a soft heart, Olivia MacKenzie.” He pushed the door open and stepped back so she could go inside.

Olivia was happy to be home. Her aunt had sent her staff over to clean the apartment, restock the refrigerator and pantry, and do Olivia’s laundry. There were fresh apples and oranges in a wooden bowl on the kitchen island, chicken noodle soup ready to be warmed up, and fresh baked bread.

“If you aren’t too tired, I’d like to talk to you about your family,” Grayson said.

“Okay, but I don’t know what I can tell you that would help.” She was emptying her purse looking for her cell phone. She finally found it and went into her office to plug it into her charger.

When she returned, Grayson had removed his suit jacket and was tugging at his tie. She noticed what he was doing but didn’t comment. If he wanted to get comfortable, that was fine with her. She would still be able to maintain her distance. He wasn’t a friend; he was her protector.

That reminder should have helped keep it all in perspective, but he looked great in a suit, and with the jacket off, he looked even better. She had forgotten what a muscular frame he had. Her side was throbbing, her shoulder stung, and her hip felt as though there was still a bullet inside the bone. She was a wreck, and yet she could still lust after him. She could have blamed her thoughts about ripping his clothes off on her pain medication, but she hadn’t taken any today.

“I’d like to discuss your brother-in-law,” he continued.

“George? There’s not much to say about him. I haven’t been with him all that much. I’ve usually just talked to him on the phone, and it’s always been superficial. You know, ‘How are you?’ . . . ‘Fine’ . . . ‘How are you?’ Then he’d hand the phone to my sister. George isn’t much of a talker. He’s a bit . . . stiff,” she said. “He makes Natalie happy, though.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Almost ten years. I met him several months after they were married.”

“You didn’t go to their wedding?”

“No, it was in San Francisco, and I was here in D.C. It wasn’t possible for me to leave.”

Olivia never talked about her illness, and he wondered if she knew that he had found out all about her time in the experimental program. According to her aunt, Olivia only discussed those years with her other family, the three girls who went through the program with her. He also knew that her surrogate father was Dr. Andre Pardieu.

He forced himself to finish his questions so she could rest. “Do you know anything about their financial situation?”

Olivia sat on the easy chair and put her head back on the cushions. “He and Natalie started an Internet company several years ago, and they’re doing very well. Natalie invested most of their profits with our father, God help her. I tried to talk to her, make her understand what a scam it all was, but she’s sipped the Kool-Aid and is a believer. Like my mother,” she added. “She likes to paint a picture of the perfect family. She thinks Natalie is the perfect daughter; George is the perfect son-in-law . . .”

“And you?”

She closed her eyes and smiled. “Imperfect,” she said very matter-of-factly. “So she usually doesn’t include me when she talks about her family. Natalie has become an only child. These days my mother considers me a traitor.”

“A traitor to the family?”

“Yes,” she answered. “And I guess I am. I have to stop him. He can’t go on ruining lives and destroying families. I used to think he couldn’t help himself, that it was all just a game to him, but now I know better. Money is everything to him. He’s obsessive about bringing in more and more. He lures his rich friends to give him their savings and their trusts to invest, and he also targets large pensions and charities.

“The more difficult the potential client, the more my father thrives. My aunt Emma won’t let him near her money, and it’s making him frantic. He hates losing, and he’s determined to find a way to force her to give him everything she has. It won’t happen, but he’ll go to prison still trying.”

Olivia struggled to get up. Surprised by how much that action drained her, she headed to her bedroom. “I’m going to change clothes,” she said. “Help yourself to something to eat and drink.”

“Want me to warm up some soup for you?”

“That would be nice.”

She walked down the hall but stopped at her bedroom door and looked back at him. “My mother idolizes my father, and she only has room in her heart for him. She can’t help the way she is. It’s like he has this mind control over her.”

“Does she know what he’s doing? Is she part of it?”

“No.” She was emphatic. “And if you showed her absolute proof, she wouldn’t believe it or see it. Honest to God, I think she’d throw anyone under the bus to protect him.”

“Including you?”

She didn’t answer. “I think, once my father is behind bars, my mother might open her eyes. Then again, she might not. She might want to crawl in the cell with him.”

“Olivia?” he called when she walked into her bedroom.

She stepped back into the hallway. “Yes?”

“Why would your mother think you’re imperfect?”

She sighed. “I got sick, Grayson. That made me imperfect.”

She really hoped he was through asking questions about her family tonight. He was dredging up all sorts of emotions she didn’t want to feel. She shut her bedroom door and changed into a pair of blue-and-white flannel pajama bottoms and a blue T-shirt. That little bit of effort exhausted her, and she sat down on the side of the bed. She fell back, rolled to her side, and closed her eyes. She would just rest for a few minutes and then have some soup, she told herself. After that, she’d send Grayson home and get a little work done on her computer.

Fifteen minutes passed and Olivia hadn’t come back to the living room. Grayson opened the bedroom door a crack and looked in. Her hair covered the side of her face, and her arms were crossed over her chest. Grayson pulled the covers back on the king-size bed, then lifted Olivia into his arms. He held her close against his chest for a minute, liking the feel of her warm body against his. He gently placed her between the sheets and covered her. He brushed her hair back and stroked her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so smooth.

“There’s nothing imperfect about you, Olivia.”