“Has it occurred to you she doesn’t want your help?”
He faced her. “I’m aware. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t offer.”
“Have you offered? Or have you taken over?”
“Maybe a little of both. She has a lot to deal with; it’s logical to delegate.” He rubbed his head. “She doesn’t trust me.”
“She doesn’t trust many people, but she trusts you. She just has a lot to prove. You swooping in and handling it won’t fly. She isn’t Katie or Lara. She wants to prove to the world she’s up for the job her grandfather left her. That starts with proving to herself she can do the job without help—even in a time of crisis.” Jules stood up, patted his arm. “You need to look at this a different way.”
“How’s that?”
“Bev wanted you in her life even when she didn’t need you for anything. Isn’t that a nice idea? Someone choosing to be with you and not expecting you to handle every little detail—or worse, wanting you for the Callahan money?”
“But now she’s kicking me out of her life. I won’t let that happen.”
“Okay. You’re willing to fight for what’s important to you. But are you willing to let go and let her be Beverly Winslow?”
“I’m not interested in changing her, Jules.”
“Then don’t. She’ll let you know when she needs you to handle something for her. She isn’t the type to hold back.”
“What am I supposed to do until then?” He dropped to the couch.
“Be her friend, her lover. She loves you. She just has to come to the idea that loving someone doesn’t mean losing her independence. Give her the time she needs; it will be all the sweeter when she realizes she wants you even if she doesn’t need you.”
“Normally, I’m a patient man.”
“Normally, you aren’t in love with someone,” Jules said. “New territory for you means a learning curve. Give yourself a break and, for the love of God, try to realize just because a woman says something doesn’t mean she’s going to feel the same way two days from now.”
“I can do that. For right now, I’m just happy this is over, and she’s safe. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Focus on that.” Jules rolled her eyes when the office phone rang. “And I’ll focus on doing my job.”
He began to pace again. Jules was right. He’d been heavy-handed. Beverly wasn’t a damsel in distress who needed rescuing. He respected her immensely. He’d do a better job of letting her know it. Jules walked back into his office; her face was ashen.
“What’s happened? Is it the kids?”
“No, that was Tracy. John Hamilton just came out of the coma. She needs you to help get a hold of Bev. This isn’t over.”
****
Bev waited for Len to open her door. The parking lot was empty, but they had arrived in Plymouth in record time. She used the drive to conference with San Francisco, ignoring several other calls coming in. She saw her missed calls and noted Tracy was one of them. She would listen to the messages before she went in. Maybe the meeting hadn’t started yet? As she got out of the car, her phone rang, interrupting her plan.
“Yes, Ms. Garrett?”
“You are meeting Jim Schulz inside the warehouse Mr. Hamilton was in negotiations to buy. Mr. Schulz seems agitated. He says he should have heard if Winslow Holdings was going through with the purchase of the fishery in spite of Mr. Hamilton’s arrest.”
She looked skyward. She should have called the man first thing this morning. “It was an oversight I’m about to fix.”
“The office to the warehouse is open. He said it’s down the waterfront from where you are parked, about a quarter mile.”
“Okay. We’ll walk from here.” She clicked off the phone. Looking around the charming town of Plymouth, she noted a chill in the air not unusual for Massachusetts, even in June. The air smelled of salt, heavy with moisture.
Seeing clouds to the north, she looked to Len. “There’s a storm coming. I think we can be in and out before the rain hits. Do you want to wait with the car?”
“No, ma’am. We’ll go together, if you don’t mind.”
They began the short walk to the warehouse. She thought it was about time to make some more changes that suited her idea of Winslow Holdings. “After this is over, I’ll buy you a beer and we can talk about ideas for my security team. I’d like to keep you on as head of my security detail, but take it down a notch, you know?”
Len offered a small smile. “Yes, ma’am. A beer sounds good.”
They reached the chain-link fencing that cordoned off the warehouse district from the rest of the marina. Similar to Salem’s docks, albeit a bit grittier and worn. They reached the warehouse office with the fishery next door.
She made a mental list of necessary improvements. No wonder the union rep wanted to meet with her. These people shouldn’t work in conditions like this. Low tide smells replaced the fresh salty air.
Holding a hand over his mouth, Len gagged. “This is disgusting.”
There was no reason for that. Sanitation could be better as well. Her phone rang, and she saw it was Finn. She wanted to click Decline but told herself to grow up.
“Hi. I’m about to go into a meeting. I thought we covered everything with the last phone call.” She glanced to Len and hoped her voice sounded normal. She didn’t want to seem emotional.
“That isn’t important right now. You need to get back to Boston as soon as you can. Tracy has been trying to reach you.”
She heard the panic in his voice. “What is it? Is it Ma? What’s happened?”
“John Hamilton just woke up. His partner set him up. He didn’t kill Reginald’s nurse, and he didn’t blow up your office.”
“Jesus, who’s his partner?”
“Your father.”
“For once the old man surprises me.” Trembling now, she forced herself to think. She and Len walked up the cement steps to the office.
“I’ll be back on the road in less than an hour. I have to meet with a union rep here.”
“Beverly!” he shouted into the phone. “You don’t understand! John Hamilton was meeting your father in that warehouse. It’s a setup. Get out of there. Now!”
The office door opened with an eerie scrape, metal on metal. A familiar face looked out from the shadow of the dark office. The gun he held was pointed directly at her. Her stomach dropped. She swallowed. And remembered her phone.
Looking into her father’s eyes, she whispered, “Too late. He found us.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chuck waved them in with the gun. “Throw the phone outside, bitch, and get in here.” She did as she was told. Len gave her a slight nod. She hoped that meant he had a plan. They walked into the office. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. It smelled of rotting fish and the bleach they must have used to try to cover it up. Her stomach roiled from the onslaught.
A mattress lay on the cement floor and a hot plate and laptop atop a scarred, wooden school desk. She looked at her father with disgust. She had to stall.
“How the mighty have fallen. The place definitely suits your character.” God, she hated him. “You know, they told me it might be you, and I said no. Chuck Devon is too small-time. He wouldn’t have the ambition for this. I don’t know why I didn’t believe you’d pull something this filthy.”
Chuck backhanded her. “You never showed me the proper amount of respect, you little bitch. It’s about time you did.”
White-hot pain burst across her cheek. It knocked the breath out of her, and she fell to the floor, the cold concrete brutal on impact with her hands and knees. She tried to shake off the hit but found her head throbbing behind her eye.
Len surreptitiously tried to reach for the gun she knew he had concealed under his jacket. But Chuck noticed the movement and whipped his own gun around, aimed at Len and fired. Len twisted to avoid the shot, but he was too late. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground, his head slamming into the concrete.
“No!�
�� She crawled to Len’s side, felt for a pulse, finding a shaky one. Blood oozed from his shoulder. He was alive but out cold. She stared up at her father.
“You bastard.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Name-calling isn’t appropriate when I’m holding the gun. Now get up.”
“You didn’t have to shoot him,” she spat out as she staggered to her feet. Pain radiated through her body. She struggled to hold back rising bile. Her father stalked a few steps backward. He rifled through a file folder with one hand but never lowered the gun from his target.
“I did have to shoot him, actually. Just like I have to shoot you. But not before you sign these documents.”
She let out a painful laugh. “Chuck, you can’t get any money. Reginald made sure of it.”
“I’m not telling you to sign over the fortune, you little slut.” He wiped spittle away from his mouth. He was really and truly crazy. She darted a look to Len, prayed he would make it until Finn sent the cavalry. She needed to keep Chuck talking.
“What are you asking me to sign?”
“Purchase agreement for this warehouse. I own it. And because of your grandfather’s stupid will, the only way to get anything from the Winslow family is by duping them. If you enter into a contract with me, then the will voids. It goes to your mother. You and I both know I can get what I want from Reggie. Any time.”
“You haven’t spent a lot of time with Ma lately, Chuck. But let’s say, for argument’s sake, I sign. What then? You’re going to jail for this. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for you to spend your riches.”
“I’m not going to jail. John Hamilton is taking the hit on this. He’ll be dead before the week is out. I’ll make sure he doesn’t wake up from the coma.”
He doesn’t know.
She searched the room for a weapon and saw Len’s gun laying on the floor. She had to figure out how to get to it.
“I don’t understand, Chuck. Why are you doing this? Money? You could con anyone else in the world; why the Winslows?”
“Your Auntie Serena didn’t understand what she was doing when she asked me to take out your mother. I’d spent two years in that stable by then, watching the Winslow princesses. Reginald treated us like peasants. He was the bastard, not me. He thought he was better than everyone—even though he was born poor too. He forgot where he came from. He wasn’t going to treat me that way and get away with it. Serena was too much trouble. But Reggie was malleable. I like that in a woman. She was ripe for it.”
At that moment, Bev thought she could kill him for that. Really do it.
“So you blame Reginald because you were a stable boy, or you blame Serena for being a brat? Or is it my mother? It’s hard to keep track of who you hate the most, Chuck.”
Her father stalked over to stand in front of her. She had to look up at him. Bourbon on his breath, mingling with body odor from not showering. She gagged. He slapped her. Bev stumbled back but recovered. Looked into his soulless eyes.
“I hate you the most. Bitch, you took it all away.”
“How did I have anything to do with it? I’ve been giving you money since I was in college!”
“It was never enough. Not when I know what your last name is worth. If you don’t sign the papers, I’ll break your fingers before I kill you, and then I’ll kill your mother. I won’t stop until I get my payday.”
“I’ll sign but I want to know the whole story. If I’m going to die, I want to know why.”
Chuck shrugged, scratched his head with his free hand. He paced the room. “I’ll enjoy telling you actually. Anything to hurt you a little bit more. God I hate you. I hate you were born.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. He wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
“Serena was so petty; it was easy to suggest a way to get back at her sister for being the favorite. Serena didn’t acknowledge I existed after, and then you came along and fucked up the whole plan. I wanted the marriage. I thought Reginald would accept a marriage. But you, you were too much for Reginald to take. One of the Winslow heirs knocked up with a bastard? That tipped him over the edge, and he made it all disappear.”
“I tried to get a payout from Serena or Reginald, but John was the only one willing to make me go away. Just like you. You and John were the protective sort. Just wanted me away from your families. I’ve been patient long enough.”
“What about my mother? Why did you keep coming back?”
“Because I could. Reggie wanted some sort of family and, for a while, she bought it when I came back and said I was ready to commit. As if I would ever commit to anyone.” He laughed. “After a while, she was too exhausted to fight. Reggie was done with me, though, when I roughed you up. I had to wait a long time before I could start milking you. You owe me for that time too.” Chuck pivoted to a standstill in front of her. Spittle settled on his lips, and his nose ran.
“The thing Serena didn’t count on was me screwing with your ma’s mind. That was just a bonus. Christ, your ma was easy. Opened her legs for me the minute I told her I loved her.” His laugh was hateful and proud.
Rage boiled to the surface. She launched herself at him. “You won’t talk about her like that!” She knocked him off his feet and scratched at his face. For all of her height and strength, her father still had the advantage.
Chuck rolled on top of her and punched her in the jaw. She anticipated the blow so it only glanced her cheek. She grabbed for the gun in his other hand. Her chest heaved with his weight pressing into her rib cage. She scratched and clawed with one hand and reached for the gun with the other. But nothing worked. He was too strong.
Chuck used his free hand to wrap around her neck, cutting off air. “I’m not going to kill you without the signature, but I know that lawyer is on his way. I will kill him too if you don’t do what I say.”
She stopped struggling. She couldn’t let him hurt Finn. She wouldn’t be able to go on knowing she could have stopped that. “It won’t matter, Chuck. John Hamilton woke up and outed you. The FBI is on the way. You’re done. And you’ll never get another penny from another member of the Winslow family. Ever.”
His eyes stared lifelessly into hers. “Then I’ll make killing you the last thing I do.” He threw his gun across the room. “I’m going to enjoy watching the life leave your body. It’s fitting for what you did to me.”
She tried to buck him off her and twisted her body to get away. He put a knee on her sternum, pushed down, then wrapped both hands around her neck and squeezed. Black shadows clouded the periphery of her vision. She gasped for air. She was losing. She didn’t have much strength left. She clawed at his hands with her own but couldn’t budge them.
In her mind, she envisioned her family. They sat in Megan’s restaurant, weeping for her. Finn was there, hugging her ma. She had to fight. She dug deep for adrenaline. Releasing one hand from Chuck, she swept out her arm, feeling for a weapon.
Edgy panic and overwhelming sadness weighed on her as she realized she was going to die. She had to try something. She fisted her hand, launched it up, and connected with Chuck’s ear with a fierce crack. He loosened his hold. Barely. She did it again.
“You bitch!” Chuck roared and used both hands to shake her and pound her head into the concrete.
Her eyes clouded over, and she couldn’t see clearly anymore. Somewhere in the fog, she dreamed of sirens.
She couldn’t fight anymore. She prayed they’d stop him before he got to her family.
Bev let go of his hands as she drifted into the black.
Then, there was nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Could he make it in time?
After Beverly hung up, he slammed down the office phone. “Jules! Call the Plymouth police department. Get them to that warehouse now. Then call for the helicopter. I’ll be at the pad in five minutes.” He grabbed his phone and called Tracy.
“Her father has her at the warehouse. I’m taking the Callahan company helicopter. I’ll be there in fifteen minu
tes. I’m going. You can arrest me if you need to, but I’m going.” He ran out of his office and prayed there’d be enough time. He couldn’t lose her.
The warehouse was surrounded by police and EMS when he arrived. His stomach lurched at the sight of the stretcher with the white sheet draped over it concealing a body. He stopped in his tracks as he watched the coroner slip the black body bag around it. He wouldn’t survive without Beverly. His lungs wouldn’t fill.
He gulped in breaths as he jogged to the FBI van. Tracy had already arrived, and she gave him the news.
“Chuck Devon is dead.” Her radio squawked, and Tracy answered before he could ask any questions. Finally, Tracy turned to Finn. “She’s busted up quite a bit. Her father almost killed her. She’s at the local hospital. They say she’ll be okay.” Tracy smiled at him. “You can breathe now. She’ll need you.”
He nodded, relief flooding his system. He turned on his heel and headed away from the chaos. His only goal now was finding Beverly.
****
Conroy needed to fuss over her.
Bev needed to let him. He stood with a glass of milk in one hand and her pain pills in the other, while her mother, Megan, and Joe stared down at her.
She was in her bed at the estate in Maine—less than a day after her father had tried to kill her—so it wasn’t surprising her body screamed with pain when she tried to shift positions or talk at more than a whisper.
“You will lie still,” her mother said as she wiped away tears. “You have a concussion, a broken wrist, and bruises everywhere. He almost crushed your trachea. You’re lucky to be alive.”
She felt a few of her own threaten and pushed them back. She couldn’t break down in front of her mother. There would be time for that later. For now, she just wanted to lie here and feel safe.
“Miss Beverly will take these as the doctor instructed?” Conroy stepped to the side of her bed, handed her the pills. He might have expected her to put up a fight. Little did he know how much she needed those pain pills at that moment.
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