The Talented Mr. Maxwell

by Julia Harlow

  She wanted to run to him, hold him, comfort him, but so much scary equipment was overwhelming. A movement in the stillness caught her attention. Grant had turned his head toward her.

  “Thank God you’re here.” His voice sounded hoarse but filled with relief. Dorrie rushed to him and clasped his hand. “What the fuck happened? They told me I’d been stabbed. The last thing I remember was hurrying to meet you at the Omni Building.”

  In between kissing his pale cheek and touching him everywhere she could, Dorrie related what she knew.

  “So NYPD is investigating. What leads do they have?”

  “None that I know of, but it’s only been a few hours.” This time she leaned in for a gentle kiss on his lips. He kissed her back and sighed but kept on with his rapid-fire questions.

  “Who would have done this? Was it a robbery?” The beeping from the monitors seemed to pick up in tempo.

  “Grant, please calm down. Your only concern right now should be recovering. We’ll find out any details soon enough.” She ran her fingers over his furrowed forehead.

  “I need you to hold me, Dorrie.” His eyelids fluttered shut. She moved to the other side of the bed where there was less equipment and finagled one hip on the mattress. Trying hard not to interfere with tubes or wires, she gingerly stretched one arm over the right side of his chest and up to his left shoulder, far enough above the wound area. His big body seemed to relax immediately.

  Without opening his eyes, he asked, “When can we get out of here?”

  She looked up at him and kissed his stubbly jaw. “Not just yet. Now rest.”

  “I will, but find my phone so I can call my family. I want to tell them myself before they find out from somewhere else.”

  Chapter 24

  The horrible churning in Carly’s stomach would not stop. The endless images splashed over her flat screen TV as the reporter relayed details of the breaking story: professional modeling shots of Grant interspersed with the police and ambulance-filled crime scene.

  “World famous male model Grant Maxwell was viciously attacked outside the Avenue of the America’s Omni Publishing Building at five o’clock Friday afternoon. He was rushed to New York Presbyterian Hospital where the thirty-four-year-old is in critical condition. Details are sketchy at this time, but we will bring you any updates as we get them.”

  Five o’clock Friday. She and Cody Carlton had left the Omni Building just moments before. Hair still turbaned in a lavender towel from her shower, Carly gripped her stomach with both hands in a futile effort to stem the pain. She had to contact the police and tell them what she suspected. But she was afraid to do it by herself.

  Her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.

  “Hey, Carly, it’s Cody. How’re you doin’ this mornin’?” The sound of his voice made her forget the turmoil brewing inside her for a second. She’d had such a good time with him last night. He was easy to be with and so sexy she’d forgotten all about what she was supposed to do and instead did what felt good. She looked back to the TV and grabbed her abdomen again.

  “Have you been watching the news?”

  “Naw. Just got up and you’re the first thing I thought of. Why?”

  “How soon can you be here?”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Seriously, Cody, can you come to my hotel?” He’d dropped her off late last night after a fabulous night out, the chemistry between them so potent she was surprised they didn’t combust.

  “Sure. Be right there.” His voice had transformed from flirty and charming to all business, losing some of his good ol’ boy drawl.

  ~~~

  Cody leaned toward Carly on the floral chintz sofa, his muscular arm around her white-shirt-clad shoulders, trying to calm her. “Slow down a minute. What’s happened?”

  “Look at the TV. Don’t you get it? It’s Grant! He was assaulted right after we left Omni Publishing yesterday and is in critical condition.”

  Removing his arm from around her, Cody stood and zeroed his attention on the news story. After a few minutes, he turned back to her and said, “Well, shit. Not that I liked the guy, but nobody deserves that. And, Christ, what about Dorrie? Shouldn’t we go to the hospital to be with her?”

  Carly put her head in her hands, muttering. “You don’t understand. I might know something about who did this to Grant.”

  “Come again?”

  “I think I should go to the police. Will you come with me?”

  Cody sank back onto the sofa beside her and took her small hand in his. “Of course I’ll come with you. But first tell me what you know.”

  “Well, someone I knew a long time ago resurfaced recently in New York. He might be sort of stalking me. I mean . . . I don’t know for sure. But he was waiting outside my hotel one evening when Grant and I were going out and approached me. He said he’d been searching for me for ten years. I couldn’t believe it was him. But it was. I’d more or less forgotten all about that night until this happened.”

  “Who is this guy, anyway?”

  “Someone I knew in Kentucky before I left there. It was a long time ago, Cody.”

  “Look. You asked me to come over, so I think you should tell me what’s really going on. What is this guy to you?”

  Carly’s whole body stiffened. If she told Cody about her tawdry past, she may as well say goodbye to him now. And she really liked him. But her intuition told her that Cody wouldn’t judge her as others would. He’d somehow understand and not hold it against her.

  Standing slowly, she made her way to the windows of the luxurious suite, her kitten heels sinking into the plush pile carpeting. She wrapped her arms around her middle again, wondering how she would tell a virtual stranger about her past. A past she’d been running from for years. How could she face that ugliness herself, let alone share it with someone she’d just met? Well, based on the unrelenting pain in her stomach, she had to do something. And now.

  Her voice was a soft monotone as she began to speak. “My dad died when I was seven. My mother regarded me as an albatross around her neck, interfering with her quest to find a rich husband. She was a stripper, or exotic dancer, as she referred to how she earned a living.” The street was crowded with traffic and pedestrians, but she saw nothing of the scene below.

  “By the time I was fifteen, I knew I had to get out of that life. I had nothing: no money, no friends or relatives to turn to. So I dropped out of high school and went to work as a waitress. It wasn’t hard to convince the owners that I was seventeen. Finding older men who were willing to help me financially was far easier than I’d ever imagined. To say that I was inexperienced sexually was an understatement. But I knew how to flirt.

  “Dwayne Wright, Jr. was the first man I was ever with. He owned a successful construction company. Still does, probably. He gave me money, supposedly for college tuition, in exchange for . . . Well, you get the idea.”

  Cody suddenly switched off the television, placing his arm across the back of the sofa to stare at her. “I’m afraid I don’t. You’ll have to spell it out for me.” His normally easy-going demeanor had transformed into hard ice.

  The scene below became blurry as tears stung her eyes. She’d never had to say it out loud. Never had to face how she’d gotten her start. If she didn’t verbalize it, maybe she could pretend it hadn’t happened. Brushing her hair back over her forehead, she took a deep breath. “He fucked me, Cody. Is that what you want to hear? He fucked me and it felt like he was ripping me apart. Then he had me suck his dick. I was fifteen with nowhere to go and no one who wanted me. I couldn’t have felt any lower than I already did. I did what I had to in order to get a better life. So judge me all you want. Walk out the door if that’s what you want to do. I don’t care.”

  Tears spilled freely over her soft cheeks and splattered on her fresh-from-the-cleaners white blouse. Her shoulders shook slightly, but she didn’t turn around.

  Coming from behind, Cody wrapped his big arms arou
nd her. He leaned down and whispered hoarsely in her ear. “I’m sorry, Carly. Sorry that you had to go through that. You never should have had to do that, but believe me, I understand why you did.”

  Warmth from his caress seeped into the coldness inside her. She relaxed back against his hard body. The fact that he hadn’t judged her, was actually sorry for her, took longer to seep into her consciousness.

  Arching her neck and turning to face him, she asked, “You really aren’t going to judge me? Think badly of me?”

  His head slowly bent as his lips met her silky cheek in a gentle kiss. “No, Carly, I’m not. In fact, I respect you more, knowing what you went through, all alone, as a young woman, to make something of yourself.”

  She turned in his arms, meeting his hazel eyes. “Really? I thought you’d—” She pulled away abruptly as grim realization dawned on her. “Oh, no!”

  “What?”

  “You might be his next target. If Dwight was waiting outside the Omni Building yesterday, he must have seen the two of us leave. He’ll think you’re another obstacle and try to hurt you, too.” Her voice cracked at this, and she collapsed on the sofa in tears.

  “Oh, I’ll be ready for the fucker. Don’t you worry. Poor Maxwell didn’t have a clue what was coming. I do. Now tell me everything about this asshole.”

  ~*~

  In the lobby of the crowded Midtown Precinct station, Carly and Cody waited for a detective. When he finally came out, he ushered them down a hall and into a room to his institution-green metal desk littered with half-filled Styrofoam cups of coffee, stacks of files and papers haphazardly scattered about, a framed photograph of a young boy holding a blue balloon, and a bobble head of a New York Yankees player.

  He motioned to two putty-colored metal folding chairs in front of his desk and slid his dark-framed glasses from the pocket of his gray suit coat, introducing himself as Detective Randy Wetzel. He acknowledged Cody, grinning and remarking that he was a Dallas Stallions fan, while he gathered up the half-dozen coffee cups and pitched them in the trash can, dispersing the stale coffee smell in the stagnant air.

  Then he turned his attention to Carly. “So you know something about the assault on Grant Maxwell?” he asked in a strong New York accent.

  “I might,” Carly said, her voice shaky. She crossed her legs and then snagged an errant curl, twisting it around her finger as she spoke. “Someone I knew a long time ago showed up in New York recently and approached me when I was with Grant.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Dwayne Wright, Jr. He’s from Pine Bluff, Kentucky, where he owns a large construction company.”

  The detective looked up from scribbling on his yellow legal pad, removing his glasses and focusing his gaze on Carly. “Do you know where he is now?”

  “No. That was a couple of weeks ago. If he did this to Grant, he must be staying at a hotel nearby.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  Carly closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Six feet two, medium build, short dark hair, dark eyes. You can probably get a picture of him from his company’s website. When we saw him last, he was wearing a wrinkled brown suit and hadn’t shaved. He seemed a little off.”

  “What do you mean by ‘off’?”

  “Desperate, I guess. A little unhinged.”

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  Carly glanced at Cody, who was leaning back in the folding chair, one leg across his ankle. Giving her an almost imperceptible nod, she continued.

  “He said he’d been searching for me for ten years and seemed very relieved to have found me.”

  The detective continued to scrawl furiously on his legal pad before staring at Carly. “And what did you say?”

  After squirming in her seat, crossing and then uncrossing her legs, she blurted out, “I didn’t want Grant to know I knew him, so I hurried away as quickly as possible without acknowledging him.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Come on, Miss Thomas. Don’t be obtuse. Why didn’t you want Grant to know you knew Dwayne Wright, Jr.?”

  “Because he was someone from my past I’d prefer to forget.”

  At this point, Cody leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If I could interject here a minute . . . This man knew Carly when she was a teenager back in Kentucky and became obsessed with her during the time she waitressed at a local restaurant. Sounds to me like he’s been expending a lot of effort to find her ever since.”

  The sweet little smile Carly gave him melted something inside him.

  “Is that what you think is going on, Miss Applegate? He’s got some fixation on you?”

  “Based on the fact that he saw me with Grant and a couple of weeks later allegedly stabbed him, yes. And there’s something else. Cody and I had left the Omni Publishing building moments before the assault on Grant yesterday. Dwayne may have followed me there and was waiting for me to come out. Or he might have been following Grant.”

  Detective Wetzel tapped on his laptop and then fished his cell phone out of his pants’ pocket. The legs of his chair scraped on the tile floor as he stood. He made his way into the hall. All they could make out was the sound of his voice but no specifics.

  Carly peeked up at Cody. “Thank you for saving me from having to repeat that ugly story again.”

  He reached for her hand. It felt cold and small as he enclosed it with his own hand. “I hope that’s the end of it, but he may ask for more details on your interactions with Wright all those years ago.”

  She shuddered, and Cody lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her cold palm. He’d been dying to kiss her last night but got the distinct feeling he should wait—that she was the kind of woman who would appreciate a guy not pushing her against a wall and sticking his tongue down her throat. Now that he knew her background, he was doubly glad he hadn’t rushed her. She’d been a desperate young woman who’d been irreparably hurt. An unfamiliar emotion welled up inside him.

  His early years had been no better, except that he’d had a high school coach who stepped up and took him in hand, directing all his energy into something positive. She’d had no one to look out for her. He imagined Carly as a fifteen-year-old. Christ. She was spectacularly beautiful now with her long, silky hair, green eyes, and perfect little body. Plus she had that “don’t bother coming on to me” vibe going on, as if no guy were good enough for her. No guy probably was.

  At fifteen, she would have just been blossoming, all pale and fair and sweet and so innocent. A pristine virgin. No wonder that Wright pervert was beyond obsessed with her.

  The return of Detective Wetzel put a sudden end to his musings. He stood at the corner of his desk, looking down on them. “Thank you for coming in. Your information has been very helpful. And just so you know, I found a photo of Dwayne Wright, Jr. and put an APB out for him as a person of interest in the Grant Maxwell stabbing.”

  Scratching his brow with his thumb, the detective added, “One more question, Miss Thomas. I don’t mean to be nosy, but why was Miss Applegate at the hospital with Mr. Maxwell?” He purposely left out the little detail that they were engaged.

  Once again Cody stepped up. “Oh, let’s just say Miss Thomas has moved on.” He took her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze, and smiled down at her.

  The detective nodded. “Well, okay then. I may need to get in touch with you, Miss Thomas. May I have your contact information?”

  After Carly rattled off her cell number and email address, she and Cody left the precinct. Outside in the fresh morning air, with rays of sunshine trickling down between the buildings of Manhattan, Cody stood in front of her.

  “You okay?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

  “Would you just hold me for a moment?” She gazed up at him, so big and strong, and the need to have his arms around her was almost overwhelming.

  Cody didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around her small body, cupping the ba
ck of her head to his chest, and breathing in the flowery scent of her. She smelled like honeysuckle, one of his favorite scents. Her soft body melted against his hardness, and he felt the tension slowly dissipate from her body like a tightly wound rope uncoiling until she almost sagged against him. It took a huge effort to fight a full-blown hard-on.

  He wondered why this successful, wealthy, stunning self-made woman, whose public persona was one of totally assured confidence, would even want him to hold her. Was she showing him a side of herself she didn’t let others see?

  A sudden thought had him holding her tighter. What if Wright was watching them now? Planning to grab Carly, or worse, to harm her?

  When his body stiffened, she glanced up. “What is it?”

  He didn’t want to worry her, so he said, “Let’s get some breakfast and then go check on Grant.”

  Chapter 25

  Dwayne watched Carly and the asshole from inside a doorway near the 54th Street police precinct. He’d followed her when she’d left the hotel and now wondered where the fuck she was going with the pretty boy. He punched the side of the building when the prick took her in his arms. He fingered the knife in his pocket. Nothing would please him more than slashing that fucker’s face so he wasn’t so pretty anymore. Or breathing.

  The interminable waiting had almost run its course; he was starting to wonder why Carly Ann was so goddamn stubborn. When he’d let her know he was in New York to find her, she’d acted as if he didn’t even exist. Now that he thought about it, maybe Carly Ann was the one he needed to set straight. Who the fuck did she think she was treating him like dirt?

  ~*~

  Day two at the hospital with Grant was only marginally better. He was still in intensive care but was improving enough that Dr. Lee said he might be moved to a private room in the afternoon. Dorrie wanted to be with him round-the-clock, but they wouldn’t let her stay for long while he was in intensive care.