Midnight Masquerade Page 13

  "Good morning, Nick."

  He looked spectacular against this backdrop of Fortune 500 success. He would have looked equally spectacular pumping gas. She bet when he was a teen, the girls would line the sidewalk just to sigh as he walked past. As she wished she could sigh looking up at him now.

  "Looking for me?"

  She dashed his casually tendered hope with a single blunt sentence. “I'm here for Mr. Zanlos."

  "Oh."

  He lingered, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an awkward teen as he searched for the right thing to say. “I'm sorry about last night. That wasn't the ending I'd planned."

  "You know what they say about the best laid plans."

  Or the best plans to get laid. He smiled wryly at her play on words and at the insinuation that he'd done everything he'd done for her just for the anticipated reward. Rae knew that wasn't true, but it was better if he believed it. Now was the time to disassociate herself from Nick Flynn. He'd taken her where she'd wanted to go, and the rest of the journey was meant for her alone. He was a complication she couldn't afford—not to her job, not to her absurdly vulnerable emotions. He was no knight in shining armor. Beneath his designer suit lived a tarnished soul. But if he wasn't completely innocent of all Zanlos's scheming, why the zealous need to protect him from the harm of association? She hadn't made Nick Flynn's choices for him. He was here because he couldn't resist the money. And she would do what she could to keep him out of Zanlos's backwash because she just plain couldn't resist him.

  That's why distance was imperative.

  "It was good to see you, Nick.” There was no mistaking the cut-off-at-the-knees dismissal in her tone. Get lost, pal. You've got nothing I want any more.

  If only that were true.

  But Nick had no intention of leaving gracefully. “How about lunch after your meeting?"

  Did she have to chase him off like a stray by pelting him with stones?

  "I don't think that would be a good idea, Nick. We had some laughs, and you did a very good thing for me, but I said thank you. Let's not make it more than that, okay?"

  He blinked as if she'd suddenly smacked him in the face with a shovel. But she'd say one thing for Nick Flynn, he was quick to regain his footing.

  "Not okay, but I'll let it go for now. Just for now."

  "Ms. Borden. Right on time."

  She stood in response to Zanlos's fluidly accented voice. Everything tensed inside her in preparation for battle. She brushed Nick away with an offhanded, “Have a nice day, Nick."

  Nick watched her follow Kaz into his office, trying not to feel as if she was carrying off part of him as a trophy. He knew what part. It ached as if she'd just kicked him there.

  "Will this help?"

  He glanced over at Naomi Bright. She held a Band-Aid.

  "Not big enough for that gaping wound in your heart, eh?"

  Was he that obvious? He grinned sheepishly.

  "Actually, I think the wound in question was a bit lower, but thanks for the sympathy."

  "No problem."

  He took a longer look at Zanlos's secretary, as if seeing her for the first time. “I find myself embarrassingly without a lunch date. Think you could get away for a minute to help me soothe my ego?"

  "Oh, if it's for a health emergency, how could I say no?"

  Why hadn't he ever noticed the tart wit behind the pleasant smile? Naomi would be a nice distraction. And perhaps a fount of information as well.

  As they were leaving the elevator on the main floor, an unfamiliar voice hailed Nick.

  "Mr. Flynn!"

  He turned to greet the beaming face of a new security guard.

  "Yes?"

  "Mr. Flynn, it's Teddy Kroeze.” When the name didn't lessen his perplexity, the guard explained a bit uncomfortably. “You got me this job, remember? You gave me your card."

  Nick's brows soared. The homeless man. Of course. From street beggar to this man of proud bearing. Wonder of wonders. He put out his hand.

  "Ted, you cleaned up good."

  "In a lot of areas, Mr. Flynn. Thanks to you and your friend. If there's ever anything I can do for you, I'm here from eleven to seven and an occasional evening. And the rest of the time, I'm with my family."

  "Good man."

  "No. You're the good man. I owe you, Mr. Flynn and I won't forget."

  Uneasy with that assessment, he simply nodded. “Do a good job. Make me look good."

  "Count on it, Mr. Flynn."

  Walking a little bit taller, he escorted Naomi to the revolving exit doors.

  "Who was that?"

  "Just someone who needed a chance and was smart enough to take it."

  They escaped the building, finding a small atrium café a few doors down that served a decent field greens salad and melt-in-your-mouth rolls.

  "She's pretty."

  Nick glanced at his companion. He could have played dumb but decided life was too short. “Yes, she is."

  "Is she a friend of Mr. Zanlos's?"

  "No. Mine. She's going to be working for him."

  Her delicate brows furrowed. “At the office?"

  "No. At the club."

  "Oh.” She drew hastily on her ice tea straw. Her awkward embarrassment goaded Nick to a brusquely given defense.

  "Don't tell me you've never done anything you were ashamed of just to get by."

  She met his slightly combative stare with one of unblinking candor. “No, Mr. Flynn, I haven't. I haven't done much of anything."

  "Then what makes you such an expert on romance and career choices?"

  She blushed. “Did I say that?"

  "You did just now. Who is this fellow who's going to make you break my heart?"

  Her color deepened as she laughed. “His name is Gabriel."

  "And this is a strictly plutonic relationship, right?"

  She averted her gaze. “So far. I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

  "Because you like me. You can't help yourself.” His rakish grin relaxed her into a smile of her own.

  "Yes, I do like you. What are you doing at MM&Z? I mean, I thought you were like them at first. But now, I don't think so."

  Nick's attention sharpened. “Like them in what way?"

  She glanced about, then leaned in conspiratorially. “You know, unscrupulous."

  His gave a derisive snort. “I've cast off my share of scruples."

  "But it bothers you. I could tell after that business with the Grovers. It doesn't bother the rest of them."

  "And why is that, do you think?"

  "Because they don't care about the people involved. They really don't ever see them, you know. I've been working there for six years, and you're the first person whose ever acknowledged that I actually have a life separate from my desk chair and computer screen. And have you met Anna Murray? Burr."

  "Then why do you stay?"

  Her pretty blushes cooled into an ashen intensity. “I don't think Mr. Zanlos would let me leave."

  "What?"

  She wet her lips nervously. “Because of what I know about what he does, I don't think he'd just let me walk away."

  She was serious. He could tell by the shadows in her gaze, by the slight trembling of her lips. She was serious and she was afraid.

  "But he's a lawyer, not a mobster."

  "Really? Mr. Flynn, open your eyes. You've worked at MM&Z long enough to be spooked by the way things happen. Coincidence, accidents, luck—call them what you want, but nothing happens by chance. Nothing. That's all I'm going to say. I'd appreciate it if you'd forget we had this conversation."

  "What conversation?"

  She smiled faintly, but uneasiness still marked her movements. Could he trust her? Casually, almost as if it had nothing to do with what they'd just discussed, he asked, “Naomi, could you get me all there is to know about the Grover deal?"

  "I-I suppose I could."

  "I mean everything. I think it's time I had a little eye opener."

  * * * *r />
  Since beginning her masquerade, Rae had never felt like a prostitute until leaving Kaz Zanlos's office with his cash in her hand. She resisted the impulse to stuff it into the cigarette can at the elevator. Without the front money she might have gotten from vice to set up a sting operation, she'd need it to set up the expected lifestyle, and she told herself that the need to get started was what had her hurrying.

  But it was the fear of running into Nick again that had her practically jogging out of the building.

  She didn't need to confront the distraction he created within her usually focused life. Nick was more than a distraction—he was a course-altering event, like a tide, a meteor, an emotional hurricane. And she wasn't ready to let an outside force have that kind of influence on her direction again. Not yet. Maybe never. Nick, bless him, had gotten her where she needed to be. Now she had to keep him out of the line of fire, even if that meant wounding him to keep him down and alive.

  When she entered the Grover home, she heard Bette humming a lighthearted tune. The doors to Tom's study were open for the first time since his death and Bette was inside. Rae headed there, knowing it wasn't going to be easy saying good-bye and leave the grieving woman on her own.

  Only Bette Grover wasn't grieving.

  She was packing the shared mementos of Tom and Ginny's past away.

  The sight stunned Rae into a long stillness until Bette noticed her at the door. The older woman at first looked guilty then defiant. She started to explain her actions then thought better of it. Ginny's diploma and high school softball trophy went into a big storage box, followed by Tom's medals of valor. The glass in the case behind Tom's desk had been replaced, and the shelves already stood empty. A sense of panic and alarm sent a mortal chill through Rae.

  "What are you doing?"

  Bette's chin went up a notch. Resentment for the question shown plainly in her stare. “I'm turning this into a music room. It's a shame to waste the space. Such a nice view of the pool and gardens.” Her tone weakened as she saw Rae's stony gaze take in the empty shelves. “I'm going to put my collection of porcelains in here to brighten up the room. Kaz said...” She hesitated as Rae went rigid. Then she concluded with unnecessary force. “Kaz said it was time I moved forward with my life."

  Forward? Rae wanted to scream at her. Your husband still has suits at the cleaners and here you are, boxing him and his daughter up like nostalgic reminders that had lost their sentimental appeal. She phrased herself carefully.

  "You can do whatever you want, Bette. It is your life."

  "I wasn't asking your permission, Rae.” And she began filling the box again.

  Rae's heart seized up at the sight of an old 8 x 10 of her and Ginny in their prom dresses with Tom standing proudly between them, an arm about each of their shoulders. She'd loved the solid permanence of that arm. The picture went into the box and all its memories with it.

  "You don't need to do this now, Bette,” she said softly, thinking her abrupt denial might be in reaction to the trauma. But Bette didn't seem traumatized. She seemed hard.

  "Yes, I do. I loved Thomas, and Ginny, as if she were my own daughter. But they're gone and I'm here. And I have no intention of living the rest of my life in their shadows. You should understand how destructive that can be."

  Surely she hadn't meant for that to be as cruel as it sounded.

  "I'm not strong like you, Rae. I can't live alone and by my own devices. I need a man in my life to take care of and to take care of me."

  Cold with horror, Rae asked, “And you think Zanlos is that man?"

  "Why not? He's been here for me. He's been sensitive to my needs—my needs, Rae—not to the memory of those who can't be helped any more."

  "He doesn't care about you, Bette. The only thing he wants are Tom's contracts. Once he gets them, he'll be gone."

  "So what? He's got them, and he's still here."

  Rae tried to look beyond the belligerence to the woman who'd stepped in to raise Ginny, but couldn't find her. “What do you mean, he has them?"

  "I gave him power of attorney for all Tom's business. I never cared anything for it, anyway. What do I know about port duties and import taxes? Why should I care about new warehouses in New Orleans? I just want to feel alive again. And I'm sorry if you don't approve."

  "It's not what you're doing, Bette, it's who you're doing it with. Zanlos is up to his five o'clock shadow in illegal business dealings. Why do you think Tom wouldn't sign a contract with him until after Ginny died? Can you seriously be so naive that you think that was a coincidence?"

  Bette flushed hot at the accusation, and Rae realized that she had pushed too far.

  "You're blaming Kaz for Ginny's death?"

  "She was dating him, Bette. He used her to get to Tom, just like he's using you now to grab up the rest of Tom's business assets."

  "You just can't stand it, can you?"

  Taken aback by the quiet accusation, Rae approached with caution. Bette Grover was cornered and could easily come out snapping.

  "You couldn't stand the thought of Ginny being happy, not then and not now. Who's being naive, Rae? Can't you see the pattern? You attack anything that threatens your place in this family."

  Rae gaped at her. “That's not true."

  "Of course it is. You don't want me listening to Kaz because that lessens your influence. Well, Tom and Ginny are gone, and I don't have to listen any more."

  "Bette—"

  But she wasn't finished with her increasingly ugly summations. “You want someone to blame for Ginny's death? Blame yourself. That's right. You didn't think any man was good enough for her. You did your best to sabotage every relationship she ever had. I don't think she ever recovered from the way you drove David away."

  "He had a criminal record."

  "He did his time. He had counseling. The only one who couldn't forgive him was you."

  "He beat his former girlfriend nearly to death!"

  "She was a drug addict. She came at him with a knife."

  "There's no excuse. He would have done it again."

  "Rae, not every man is your father."

  Rae reared back as that statement slapped her.

  "One week before the wedding, Rae. You just couldn't leave it alone."

  "He hit Ginny."

  "It was an accident. She told you that herself. But you wouldn't believe her because you didn't want to believe her. You filed charges and made sure his parole was revoked. They took him away in handcuffs right in front of Ginny. She was devastated."

  "I did it to protect her."

  "You did it to keep her for yourself. You couldn't stand the thought of her loving anyone else. It was your suspicions and jealous selfishness that pushed her over the edge. She was in therapy for two years, did you know that? And then, just when she's starting to get her life back together, you send her a note criticizing her affection for Kaz."

  "What? I did no such thing."

  "Don't lie to me."

  "Who told you that? Ginny? Did Ginny tell you that?"

  "No. Kaz did. Just a few days ago. He didn't want to mention it before because he didn't want me to think badly of you or to believe Ginny's death was a suicide instead of an accident."

  "He's the liar, Bette. I never sent Ginny a note of any kind."

  "She just couldn't face your disapproval or the thought of your insecurities ruining everything for her all over again."

  "I am not responsible for what happened to Ginny!"

  "Just like you're not responsible for what happened to your parents. Face it, Rae, you have no tolerance for people who don't live up to your standards. You won't let people have failings or weaknesses, even if they've accepted them. Who are you to dictate how everyone else should run their lives? Look what your meddling cost you. Look at the damage you've done to those you've claimed to care about."

  Breathless and struggling against the tidal pain of those words, Rae insisted, “Zanlos had Ginny killed."

  "Get out of my
house."

  Once that phrase was coldly spoken, they both knew there was no going back.

  "Stay away from me and my family's business,” Bette concluded with an unexpected ferocity. “I won't allow you to interfere in my happiness out of some sick, desperate need you have to control others. Control isn't love, Rae. You don't know what love is. And don't worry. Your secret is still safe. I haven't said anything to Kaz about your job. But consider that job finished, or I will tell him everything."

  And with that, Bette turned back to her packing and her back on her daughter's best friend. There was nothing left for Rae to do but go.

  Bette was just finishing up with the last of the souvenirs to a life she'd had no part in when the telephone rang. She answered with a wavery hello.

  "My darling, what's wrong?"

  At that sound of tender concern, she poured out all the details of what had transpired, glad to release the pent-up guilt over the words she'd said and conclusions she'd drawn. But she needn't have worried. Kaz Zanlos knew just what to say.

  "Darling, don't be troubled. I'll speak to Ms. Borden."

  "Thank you, Kaz,” she gushed in a grateful relief.

  "No problem. I'll see she gives you no more cause for worry."

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  Usually a walk along the Wall put Rae's problems into perspective. All those names recording sacrifices far beyond what she'd ever been called upon to make. Among those names were the friends and comrades who'd stood beside her father and Thomas Grover to fight on foreign soil for a cause not all of them believed in but for a country they'd been ready to die for. These men never left the war. Neither had Frederick Borden. He'd brought the horrors and stresses home to his young wife, and they'd created shadows of violence behind the life they made together.

  On the stone walk ahead, a family knelt together while the oldest member did a chalk rubbing onto a piece of construction paper and his wife explained to the two young children the significance of what they were doing. This was like grandpa's tombstone, and they were bringing part of it home so they wouldn't miss him so much. The children didn't understand, but Rae did. She thought of this overwhelming monument as her father's burial marker. In Vietnam, he'd been a hero, decorated for bravery and dedication to duty. It was what he had become when he returned that she tried to forget.