by S Cinders
Even thinking of Frank for the briefest of moments caused Alyssa’s blood to run cold. She shook her head to clear it. “I have my cell in my purse. I’ll call Nate right now.”
“Very good, Ma’am. We will be on our way then.”
Alyssa glanced around the trashed apartment. She shouldn’t have been so upset. The apartment had been furnished, but not with her things. Nate had placed her there because his law firm had a corporate apartment, which they retained for VIP clients.
Alyssa snorted to herself. She might have been considered a VIP client at one point, but according to Nate, all her accounts had been cleaned out. Alyssa Vauban, filthy-rich heiress and Manhattan royalty, was currently reduced to one Louboutin red-soled pump and a crumpled fern tree fern.
This had to be what Hell was like.
“Oh! Thank God you’re here,” a nasally voice rang out from the doorway. “I don’t know what kind of party was going on in here, but it sure took you cops a long time to get here. What do we have? Was she cooking meth? Running a whorehouse?”
Alyssa’s jaw dropped as she saw the little old man, Richard, shuffle in with his walker. “I knew something was off when she moved in here.”
“What are you talking about?” Alyssa asked. Her tone was a touch shriller that she would have liked. The only interaction she’d ever had with Richard was holding the elevator sometimes while he took his sweet-ass time pushing his tennis-ball-tipped walker down the marble halls.
He straightened as far as his osteoporosis would allow and pointed a gnarled finger at her. “I called the cops! I don’t want to know what you could have been doing to make all of that racket earlier.”
Alyssa felt like she was living in the twilight zone. “Do you mean, while I was being robbed?”
Richard blinked a few times, his eyes looking rather owlish behind his Coke-bottle glasses. “Robbed? Who said anything about being robbed?”
Alyssa dropped her shoe.
“Chief,” a deep voice called out from the bedroom she’d been sleeping in. “You should take a look at this.”
The older officer nodded once and turned to follow the decidedly handsome detective. Alyssa couldn’t help but take in his muscular build, thick thighs, broad shoulders, and scruffy chin, despite the suit he was wearing.
She might be broke, grieving—and now accused of cooking meth—but she wasn’t dead yet.
Officer Hottie was the best thing she’d come across in days.
“What is it, Reece?” the chief asked.
“Blood on the vanity.”
6
Nate and Kim anxiously exited the elevator on the floor just below theirs. The hallway was thick with officers and detectives. Not to be outdone, several apartment owners were keeping tabs on things by peeking through the security chains at the top of their doors.
Nate wrapped a protective arm around Kim’s waist as they pushed their way toward the apartment that Alyssa had been staying in.
“Nate!” Alyssa’s voice rang out above the throng. “Thank God you’re here.”
Pushing past the officers she had been speaking with, Alyssa rushed forward and threw her arms around Nate’s neck. Kim, having been pushed aside by Alyssa’s display, found her elbow being caught as she found her balance.
“Are you all right?” A male voice asked her.
Kim glanced over to see a handsome man in what she’d guess to be his early thirties. He was dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt, but it was obvious the clothes weren’t off the rack. Since marrying Nate, Kim had learned a lot about learning to tell the difference between custom-made clothes and what you could pick up at the mall.
Whoever this was, he had money stashed away somewhere. A pang of regret hit Kim as she thought about what Alyssa must be going through. Not only had her space been violated, but she was now having to sit back and watch as strangers pawed through the mess that had been her life. She'd vowed to trust Nate in this, hadn't she?
“Thank you,” Kim replied breathlessly. “I’m not normally so clumsy.”
The man’s dark eyes twinkled, and a bright smile touched his lips. “I would imagine that normally you aren’t knocked down by a freight train.”
Kim grinned wryly. “Saw that, did you?”
Nate was busy extricating himself from Alyssa when Kim glanced at her husband. Turning back to get a good look at the stranger, she saw he was just above six feet. Broad shoulders tapering down into a slim waist indicated the stranger knew his way around the gym. Or perhaps it was the way his tanned forearms peaked from beneath his long-sleeved t-shirt. There was something so sexy about a man's forearms, wasn't there?
He shrugged, also watching Nate and Kim. “It was hard to miss. I’m Agent Scott Tabor with the Federal Bureau of Investigation White Collar Unit, and you are?”
“My wife,” Nate inserted in icy, clipped tones as he attempted to put himself between Kim and the strange man paying her far too much attention.
Kim frowned up at Nate. It certainly wasn’t like him to be so rude, especially to someone who had helped her when she could have fallen. Nate hadn't been himself since this entire matter with Alyssa had started. Kim sided with the handsome FBI agent. Something wasn't quite right with Alyssa.
Reaching around Nate, Kim extended her hand to shake. “I’m sorry. My name is Kim, and this is my husband, Nathan Livingston. We live upstairs.”
“This is my lawyer,” Alyssa stated, moving in close to Nate’s side. “And his wife. I… I asked him to come.”
The FBI agent looked from Kim’s annoyed facial expression to Alyssa’s slightly manic one. The only person looking just as confused as Scott was Nate.
“What’s going on?” Nate threw the question out there, not addressing anyone in particular.
Alyssa moved a step closer to Nate, clutching his sleeve. “Nothing, it’s nothing at all. I will explain it to you later.”
Kim looked askance from Alyssa to the swarming hallway, covered with officers, detectives, agents, and more.
“Nothing?” Agent Tabor repeated incredulously. “Your apartment was trashed and there was DNA evidence found that likely doesn’t belong to you. Not to mention your completely erratic behavior since we’ve arrived on scene. Madam, you are going to need to answer some questions.”
“Perhaps some drug testing is in order?” Kim popped up helpfully.
Kim didn't really think Alyssa was on drugs, or at least it hadn't occurred to her before this very moment. But hadn't things with her parents and Andrew been indicator enough that Kim wasn't the best judge of character? She'd spent her life ignoring little red flags, and where had that gotten her? Something about Alyssa's story just didn't ring true to her. Was she so wrong in calling her on it?
Alyssa shot daggers at Kim while Nate gave her his best you're not helping expression. Immediately Kim felt chastened. Not only was Alyssa an old friend of Nate's, but she was also his client. In her jealousy, Kim had just accused Alyssa of being influenced by drugs in front of an FBI agent. What in the hell was wrong with her?
Nate cursed under his breath while the tension in the air grew as thick as peanut butter.
“I have never used or abused drugs,” Alyssa said stiffly. “I just want all of this to go away.”
Agent Tabor nodded and then reached into his pocket, pulling out his badge and credentials. “I am going to need you to come downtown to talk about some things, Miss Vauban. You’re welcome to include your lawyer in this if you wish.”
“Am I being arrested?” Alyssa asked with a gasp.
“Only if you refuse to comply,” Nate answered in a resigned tone. “Am I right, Agent Tabor?”
The FBI agent smiled and nodded. The simple act had Alyssa and Kim taking a second look at the handsome detective. He might be trouble, but he was certainly nice to look at.
FBI White Collar Unit
“Toxicology came back negative,” Scott said with a sigh as he placed the paperwork on the conference table between Alyssa Vauban, Nate Li
vingston, and himself.
Scott had heard of Livingston, Cooper & Jones. Who hadn’t? What surprised him was that Nathan Livingston of Livingston, Cooper & Jones, was somehow wrapped up in this investigation. It hadn’t taken long to do a thorough background check on the lawyer and the heiress.
What was truly interesting was that while Nathan Livingston was squeaky clean, his new wife Kimberly Johnson Livingston had an ex-husband currently serving time for distribution and possession of an illegal substance. Said ex-husband, Andrew, was also awaiting a murder trial for Kim’s parents.
Scott had always heard where there’s smoke, there's fire. And smoke signals were puffing away from Kim’s past. The only enigma he’d found in the investigation was Alyssa. Her mother’s family were akin to Shanghai royalty, and her father’s side was full of sealed records that someone with a higher security clearance would have to access.
Something wasn’t right, and it was up to Scott to figure it out what it was.
“Listen, Agent Tabor, my wife is exhausted. She’s asleep on the couch. Why don’t we call it a night and reassess things in the morning?” Nate suggested tersely.
“What is your true relationship with your client, counselor?” Scott shot back. “Her familiarity with your person denotes a far-closer relationship than counselor and client. And yet I see your wife is nearing her delivery date.”
Nate’s face flushed hotly, but he refused to look away in shame. He had done nothing wrong. “I haven’t misled Ms. Vauban or insinuated that we were in any sort of relationship. I don’t know how many times I have to say I love my wife.”
“I am not sleeping with Nate,” Alyssa added petulantly. “Why would I do something so shitty to another human being?”
Scott raised a brow. “I’m sure it’s not for me to say. However, you can’t just stay here forever, and I’ve a feeling Mrs. Livingston will not let you stay with them.
“Over my dead body,” Kim shouted groggily from the couch.
Scott shrugged. “I guess it’s settled then.”
“What’s settled?” Nate asked in confusion.
“She’ll have to stay with me,” Scott said with authority, ignoring how everyone sat up and stared at him.
Surely, she can’t be that difficult to control, Scott reasoned.
7
“What happened next?” Mandy asked as she switched baby Charlotte from the right breast to the left.
Kim snatched another piece of Mrs. H’s freshly baked banana bread before answering. “What could she say to that? It’s obvious she’s hiding something, and Agent Tabor feels that she’s in danger, so he wants to keep her close to his side.”
“Do you think Alyssa is in danger?” Mandy asked.
Kim thought about the swarming officers and detectives in the hallway of Alyssa’s floor. Then she pictured the ransacked apartment. “I do. I was so angry at her for coming on to Nate, but now I don’t know if she was really coming on to him. I feel stupid for making such a big deal of things.”
“What do you mean?” Mandy asked with a frown.
Kim thought for a moment. “You know when someone is just clueless about everyone and everything around them?”
Mandy nodded.
“I think Alyssa is one of those people. I know she’s always had money and privileges that go along with it. But it’s more than that. She seems… Oh, I don’t know—scared? One thing she said last night hammered the thought home. She said to that FBI agent that she would never dream of sleeping with a married man—especially Nate. Her reason was simple. It’s a shitty thing to do to somebody. It was like the thought had never occurred to her before. Maybe she really is in trouble, and I’ve been wrong about everything.”
“What does Nate feel about all of this?” Mandy asked.
Kim sighed and leaned back against the plush confines of the couch in the Brand’s luxury penthouse. “He’s still pretty tight-lipped about what’s going on. First thing this morning, he was dressed and out the door. Apparently, he planned on checking on Alyssa and her FBI agent before starting work.”
“You know he adores you?” Mandy asked with a soft smile.
Kim nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, not to change the subject, but I need to know who you’d like invited to your baby shower. It’s nearly here and invitations need to be sent.”
Kim grimaced. “I really don’t have many girlfriends. Do we have to have a shower?”
Mandy wrinkled her nose. “And deprive me of a chance to throw a party for my incredible older sister? I think not.”
“Hey!” Kim feigned outrage. “Not older, dear sister, just slightly more seasoned.”
Mandy laughed, replying, “That makes you sound like a rack of ribs.”
Kim rolled her eyes, a smile gracing her lips. “Seriously, Mandy, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. Let’s keep it small.”
“What do you think about doing a mixed-gender baby shower? Who says that it has to be just women? I’ve heard of several new moms choosing to include the father and his friends at the celebration.”
Kim’s eyes lit up. “Yes, let’s do that! Then Nate can be there with me, and I won’t feel so self-conscious.”
“And Freddy can come too,” Mandy added. “He’s been such a good friend to you.”
Before Kim could reply, the door to the kitchen slammed open and Mrs. H stood there steaming. Never had the sisters seen the older woman in such a state. Her hair was mussed, and, if Kim wasn’t mistaken, her lipstick looked smudged.
“Are you all right?” Mandy inquired gently.
It took Mrs. H a full fifteen seconds before she could reply. Then, as if coming out of a daze, she attempted to pat her hair down and asked, “What was that?”
Kim’s lips twitched as she watched Mandy trying to keep a straight face and Mrs. H trying to pretend like she hadn’t been smooching in the butler’s pantry.
“You’re flushed,” Mandy pointed out. “I wondered if you were feeling okay.”
If anything, the older woman now resembled a bright red tomato. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Mandy raised her brows and looked at Kim as if to ask, are you seeing this?
Kim decided to have a bit of fun. “Mrs. H? I don’t suppose you’ve seen Robert?”
Just mentioning the Brand chauffeur, who frequently acted as their butler, had Mrs. H’s hands wringing together.
“No,” she said quickly, “How should I…”
She trailed off as Robert, the same Robert she’d been adamantly denying seeing, walked through the kitchen door she'd entered minutes before.
“You dropped your bracelet,” Robert began, holding a slip of gold chain in his hands.
Kim had never seen the older woman looking more horrified. With a speed that belied her years, Mrs. H had snatched the bracelet and retreated into her kitchen.
Robert stood there blinking, his hand still outstretched. But that wasn’t what Mandy and Kim were staring at. It was the lipstick stain on Robert’s pristinely pressed, white-collared shirt.
The same lipstick that was smudged on their dear Mrs. H’s lips.
“You dirty dog,” Mandy scolded with a waggle of her finger. She couldn’t accuse too much on the account that Charlotte was still attached at the breast.
Robert shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking…”
“Save it, my friend,” Kim advised sagely. “We already know about you and Mrs. H.”
Robert seemed to deflate a little. “I don’t know what you think you know.”
“We know you were kissing her a moment ago,” Mandy accused playfully. “I hope you know we expect you not to trifle with her feelings.”
Robert scoffed. “Me? Trifle with her feelings? I will have you know, Mrs. Brand, that I’ve been trying to get that woman to show even an ounce of what I know is locked up inside of her. I’m not the one unwilling to commit.”
Mandy’s round eyes met Kim’s; this wasn’t something t
hey had considered.
“Perhaps she just needs a little nudge?” Kim suggested.
Mandy nodded. “We are excellent nudgers.”
“Is that a word—nudger? Or would it be a nudge enthusiast?”
“Nudge experts,” Mandy said with a final nod.
“You’re both a little scary sometimes,” Robert said with a grumble. “It’s like half the conversation goes on inside your minds.”
Mandy laughed. “I suppose there is no bond as close as a sister’s bond. Now, as for getting the two of you together, what should our plan be?”
“No matchmaking, please,” Robert begged them. “I want her to come to me because that is her fondest wish. Not because she was tricked into it.”
Kim huffed. “You just went and took all the fun out of it.”
Robert’s face screwed up in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Mandy pulled Charlotte from her breast and placed the sleeping infant over her shoulder while she rubbed her back.
“It’s easy,” Mandy explained Kim’s sullen expression. “We can’t interfere when you go and say such a noble thing as not wanting to trick Mrs. H, so Kim’s bent out of shape because you put the kibosh on our fun.”
“Kibosh?” Robert repeated in confusion.
“Yeah,” Mandy nodded. “You killed it.”
“Dead in the water,” Kim added, snatching another piece of banana bread.
Robert blinked again. “Right, well, if that’s everything?”
“No,” Mandy said with a devious grin. “There is one more thing that I probably ought to bring to your attention.”
“Of course, Mrs. Brand, whatever I can help you with,” Robert added dutifully.
“Ms. Vixen 208 really isn’t your color. I think you should stay in the pink lipstick with a blue undertone.”
“What?” The word exploded from his lips. “I beg your pardon. But what are we talking about?”
“The lipstick that’s on your collar,” Kim pointed out. “Too much of a yellow undertone, you would do better with a cooler shade.”
