by J. Kenner
Damien pulled out his phone and dialed the gatehouse.
“Mr. Stark,” Charlie said. “I hope the wedding was nice.”
“It was lovely, Charlie. Do you remember a Toyota leaving earlier this evening? Driver dressed like one of the servers?”
“Yes, sir. I assumed he was off to pick up something the caterer forgot, but he never came back.”
“Can you find the still for his car?” Two cameras at the gatehouse recorded both the license plate and driver of all entering and exiting vehicles. “Then shoot me both images.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Is there a problem, sir?”
“Nothing we can’t handle, and nothing that reflects on your watch.”
“I see,” Charlie said, though of course he didn’t really. “I’ll get that to you right away.”
“Thank you, Charlie. Say hello to your wife and that little boy, won’t you?”
“Of course, sir.”
Damien ended the call, his eyes meeting Ryan’s. “Either one of Alaine’s, or someone who figured that was the best way to infiltrate. I’m guessing it will be the latter, but I’m withholding final judgment until we talk with Alaine.”
“The staff is still in the kitchen,” Ryan said. “They must still be packing up and cleaning. I’ll run and get him. And I’ll ask the staff to hang around a bit longer. Even if he did use the outfit as camouflage, one of them might have noticed him. Meanwhile, no one touch the note. I’ll text Mario and have him come dust for prints. Unless you want to get the police involved?”
Damien shook his head. “No. We’ll handle this privately. But I’ll have Charles call the station in the morning and explain the situation. Just so they have it on record.”
“Privacy’s one thing,” Jackson said, “but someone is harassing you in your home. I may not have had the best experience with the cops, but even I think they should be involved.”
“No,” Damien said, then glanced at Ryan, who nodded.
“All right. What else is going on?” Jackson asked as Nikki squeezed Damien’s hand in solidarity.
“Let’s go on in and sit down. I’ll fill you in while Ryan gets Alaine.” He frowned, for the first time noticing that Jamie and Sylvia had disappeared.
“They’re setting us up with bourbon and coffee,” Jackson said, nodding toward the third-floor kitchen that had become the heart of the home. “Right now, I’m thinking we’ll all be going with bourbon.”
“You got that right,” Damien said. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “This will fuck Alaine up if it’s someone on his staff. He’ll never forgive himself for not vetting his team well enough.”
“So would you in his shoes,” she told him. “But you’ll also tell him that you understand that.”
“I will,” he said, following his brother toward the sitting area. Nikki, however, held back, and he turned to find her with Bree.
“You can go on to your place,” she said. “Thank you so much for staying with the kids.”
“Are you kidding? Of course. But I—well, could I have one word with Mr. Stark, first?”
“Damien,” he said. “You know you can call me Damien.”
She nodded. “I know. I just—well, what I want to ask…”
“I’ll go help Jamie and Syl,” Nikki said.
“Oh, you can stay.”
“It’s fine,” Nikki said. “Unless you need me to?”
Bree shook her head.
“I promise he doesn’t bite. Not hard, anyway.”
Damien fought a laugh, and Bree visibly relaxed, the joke breaking the lingering tension. “How are you doing?” She’d been released unharmed after she and Anne were taken, but the trauma would linger forever. And now she’d learned that the home they’d considered a fortress had been breached.
“If this is making you nervous,” he added, “I’m happy to let you stay at the apartment until we beef up security and, hopefully, find who did this.”
“The apartment? Oh! You mean downtown?” Half of the top floor of Stark Tower was his personal residence. One of them, anyway. “Oh, no, Mr. Stark. I mean, Damien. No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I—I, well, you remember how I was seeing Rory,” she began, naming the man who had been Anne and Bree’s kidnapper.
“Of course, I remember.”
“Right. She pressed her lips together, then drew in a breath. “Um, listen, I hate to be the person who thinks like this, but could you do me a favor?”
“Probably,” Damien said, wondering where she could possibly be going with this conversation. “What do you need?”
“I’ve been seeing this guy for a few weeks. He’s been here a couple of times, and Nikki’s met him. He’s really nice. Funny and charming, and I trust him completely.”
He saw the truth of her words in her eyes. And he saw the guilt, too. “You want me to run a background check.”
She blinked, but nodded. “I hate myself for asking, but I trusted Rory, too, and now—now I don’t trust myself, you know?”
“I do,” he said softly. “And of course I will if it will make you feel better. But Rory was the exception, not the rule. At the same time, you’re doing the right thing by checking this guy out. It’s a matter of your safety and the safety of the kids. So thank you, Bree, for being so responsible.”
She managed a smile. “I still hate asking.”
“Well, technically, you didn’t. Text me his name and any other concrete information you have on him. I’ll get Ryan on it.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He started to head back to Nikki and the others, then hesitated. “Any word on your book?” She’d moved back from New York to attend a low residency masters program in creative writing. She’d finished her first novel and was well into a second, but so far hadn’t found a buyer for it.
“Nothing yet, but everyone says these things take time.”
“Well, you let me know if you need anything, okay? I enjoyed it,” he added, glad that his words were the absolute truth. “I’d love to see you get it published.”
“Thanks, Mr.—thanks, Damien. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to sleep on the playroom sofa tonight.”
He smiled. “I thought you might. And, Bree?”
Her brows rose in question.
“I’m glad you’re part of the family.”
Her smile lit her face. “Anne and Lara and Bradley mean the world to me, and so do you and Nikki. You’re role models, you know? And what makes you good ones is that you’re human.” She cocked her head toward the stairs. “I’ll text you that stuff tonight before I crash. Let me know if you learn anything about that horrible thing,” she added, pointing toward the note.
“You’ll know when we do.”
He watched her go, then turned to find Nikki coming toward him with a glass of bourbon. “You look like you could use it.”
“She wants me to investigate her boyfriend. She shouldn’t have to worry about running background checks on the guy she’s dating.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” The words snapped out of him, pushed by fury, not reason. “Someone was in this house, uninvited, fucking with our personal space.”
“I get that you’re mad.”
“Do you?”
“You think I don’t?” She stepped closer, her back straight, her expression fierce. “You’re more angry at yourself than at him. Because you didn’t anticipate it.”
“Damn right, I am.”
She grinned at him. “I told you I understood.”
The fury that had been building in him backed down, and he drew in a breath, ratcheting back the desire to punch something. “Come on. We need to fill the others in before Ryan gets back with Alaine. I’m not telling Alaine about the video, but Jackson and Sylvia should know.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell them, you know. Or at least not tonight.”
He considered it
. God knew he didn’t want to talk about the damn video again. And he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about what happened back when he and Sofia were both children and victims.
But all he said was, “Yes, I do. They’re family, aren’t they? And after what you and I both suffered through, the most important thing in my life next to you and the girls is doing family right.”
“I love you, Mr. Stark.”
“I know,” he said. “Where do you think I get the strength to do this?”
8
“So what’s this about?” Alaine asked as he stepped off the elevator that opened into the third floor kitchen. He was alone, Ryan having stayed behind to speak with the staff. And since Nikki and the others were in the living area, it was only Damien and Alaine.
“Hopefully nothing,” Damien said. “But we’ve had a bit of vandalism in the house, and I’m trying to nail down the source.”
“Vandalism? You think someone on my staff—?”
“We don’t know. That’s why we’re having this conversation. Alaine,” he added, stressing his friend’s name, “you know I trust you, but how well do you know your staff?”
Alaine’s brow furrowed, and Damien knew the answer. Some probably worked at Alaine’s various restaurants, but others were undoubtedly temp workers.
“Tell me what happened,” Alaine insisted.
“Nikki saw someone dressed in a server’s uniform sitting in the last row right before the ceremony. Afterwards, we came upstairs and found this.” He held out his phone, showing Alaine the picture of the note that he’d taken earlier.
“Good God.” Alaine sucked in a breath, then shook his head slowly. “If someone on the staff was sitting in the guest area, they were violating my policy. But surely they were only adjusting a shoe, taking a stone out, something like that. I can’t imagine anyone on my team would do such a thing.” He crossed his arms, his eyes meeting Damien’s. “I trust my staff. And I hope you trust me.”
“I do, but I need to be sure. You can understand that.”
“Of course. Of course, I do.” He reached up to rub his temples. “I’ve know most of my team for years. But we do have a few who have worked only one or two events. People I’m auditioning for when I formally launch the catering arm.” He shook his head, looking disturbed and furious. “If this was one of my people, I swear I’ll—”
“Let’s find out. Your entire team is still here, right? No one’s left early?” That’s what Ryan had texted Damien, and he hoped it was the truth.
“That’s right. Everyone’s still here. We’re packing up, that’s part of their job.”
“Then let’s go downstairs. And, Alaine, I hope you know you’re one of my closest friends. I apologize for the inconvenience. But we have to work this out. There was an incident. There was someone dressed in the uniform you chose for tonight. So you know, we believe he may have already left the property, but I hope you understand why we need to go through this exercise.”
Nikki slid up beside him, taking his hand. “Please know that your work today was excellent,” she said. “The food was superb, and the service was absolutely perfect. It has nothing to do with that. But you have to understand that security is important to us.”
“Of course, of course,” Alaine said. “We will talk to the staff, and that will prove to you that nobody on my team was behind this.”
“I think you’re going to be right. But we have to know for sure.” He gestured toward the open area and the stairs that led down to the first floor. “Ryan should have everyone downstairs by now. Shall we?”
Only minutes later, they were on the first floor, standing in front of a line of catering staff, most in their twenties, and all of whom were obviously trying hard not to fidget.
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Damien said, “and please understand this is a precaution. A checking off of a box, if you will. I believe Mr. Hunter already told you that we had an incident in the house this evening, and we have reason to suspect that the culprit was wearing this particular serving uniform. That doesn’t, however, mean it was one of you. We also believe that the person we’re looking for has already left the property. But we wanted to speak to you all, since you might have seen something important and not even realized it.”
As planned, while he gave the speech, Nikki was looking at the faces of all the people standing there. He glanced sideways at her, and noticed that she’d focused on one particular dark-haired man, who wasn’t meeting her eyes.
He felt something dark knot up inside of him. If this was the man who’d taped that note to the portrait...
She turned to him with a tiny shake of her head, and that knot started to dissolve, morphing into something less immediate, but more dangerous. Once he did find this person, it wasn’t going to be pretty. But at least he knew the culprit hadn’t been here all along.
He drew in a breath and focused on the situation at hand. “Did any of you notice someone dressed as a server, but not part of the team?”
A woman, thin and shorter than all the others, stepped forward. “I did,” she said, her eyes down. She cleared her throat, then looked up. “I did because he looked, well, he looked a little like you,” she added, finally lifting her face to meet his eyes. A deep red blush crept over her cheeks. “He, um, caught my attention.”
Damien forced himself not to smile. “Thank you. That helps. I’d like you to hang back a minute. Mr. Hunter has some questions for you, just to jog your memory, maybe nail down a description.”
She nodded and glanced toward Ryan as Alaine asked, “Is there anything else?”
“No. Thank you all for your time. I’m sorry to have to put you through this.” He met his friend’s eyes, hoping that Alaine really did understand. But there was no way that he was putting his family second behind potential embarrassment to his old friend. Alaine nodded, just one quick tilt of his head, but the tension in Damien’s shoulders relaxed. At least on that front, it looked like they were still good.
“And so you know,” Damien added before they all filed out, “you’ll all be receiving bonus checks as a thank you for your hard work and for your patience.”
The front door opened as the staff was retreating back to the kitchen area, and Mario stepped in. Tall and lean with energy to spare, Mario was the guru of all things tech at Stark Security. “So what have we got?” he asked, bouncing to a halt beside Damien. “Nobody’s touched this note right? We’re hoping I can pull some clean prints?”
“Ryan filled you in?” From across the room, Ryan glanced up and nodded.
“A nasty note tacked to Nikki’s portrait, right?” Mario asked. “That’s about the sum total of what the asshole’s done, right? That you know of, anyway.”
Damien nodded. Mario did have a way of narrowing things down to the basics. And at the moment, Mario didn’t need to know about the texts.
As Mario started to head up the stairs, Alaine returned from where he was ushering his team back toward the kitchen. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course.” He nodded toward the patio doors, then unlocked them so they could step outside. “What’s going on?”
Alaine frowned. “I’d intended to bring it up tomorrow. I didn’t want to interrupt the day, but now I think it’s necessary.”
“Go ahead.”
“Someone called me.”
“Called you?”
“Asking questions,” he said. “About Germany. About the three of us. You and me and Sofia,” he added unnecessarily. There was no other “three of us.” Alaine, Sofia, and Damien had been inseparable during their years in Germany.
Or, rather, inseparable except for the times when Richter forced Sofia and Damien to be alone. Or the one time when Sofia’s aunt had taken her home to Illinois to visit her ill grandmother. That had been a blessing. She’d escaped for over four months that trip.
For one brief, harsh minute, Damien wondered if the same type of abuse had been going on with Alaine and Sofia as had been
going on with him. But he dismissed the thought. Sofia would have told him. And Richter had never held power over Alaine. The man had been Sofia’s father and Damien’s coach. But Alaine was on the circuit with his own father, and as far as Damien knew, his life was as happy as traveling with a tennis team could be.
“What kind of questions?” he asked now. “Did this caller say why they were asking?”
Alaine spread his hands, as if trying to find the right words. “He didn’t. And as for the questions, honestly, it was nothing specific. Were we friends? Were you and Sofia an item?”
“He? So the caller was a man? Do you have a name?”
“He said his name was John Galt. What?” Alaine added seeing Damien’s reaction. “Do you know him?”
“He’s a character in a novel. A brilliant man who disappears. Most people believe he’s only a rumor. But he’s real, and he’s slowly destroying the fools who are in charge of the world. I have a feeling your caller considers me one of the fools.”
“Oh,” Alaine said. “Doesn’t know you well, then, does he?”
“No,” Damien replied. “He doesn’t.” He met his friend’s eyes. “What else did he ask?”
“About Richter’s death, but you could probably guess that.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing, really. He just kept rapid firing the questions, and I kept trying to get him to explain to me who the hell he was and why he’d called me in the first place. I’m guessing he was a reporter trying to stir up dirt. Maybe he wanted to time it with your vow renewals. As I said, I was going to tell you tomorrow. But under the circumstances, I didn’t want to wait.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Can you forward the number his call came from? Were there any voicemails?”
“It came to the restaurant, the land line. The numbers aren’t stored. Like I said, the voice was just a man. No particular accent. American, possibly from the Northeast, but I wouldn’t swear to it. Definitely not Southern.” He sighed, and held out his hands in a what can you do gesture. “I’m sorry not to be more help. I was mostly annoyed about the call and ended it quickly.”
