by Camy Tang
“That’s ridiculous.” Brett lost control of his calm facade and rolled his eyes. “I opened a few successful restaurants that don’t even cater to the same clientele as yours. I’m not gunning for you. And all I did was be kind to your wife and offer her a ride home from a party.”
Jason’s face glowed as red as coals. “That’s how you start it, with rides home. Then you seduce them away from men who really love them. Well, let me return the favor.”
He darted forward, faster than Monica would have expected from such a stout man, and reached across the table to grab her arm in a beefy hand. He gripped her so hard that she thought her humerus bone might bend beneath his fingers, and she cried out in pain.
“Hey!” Brett shouted at him. He and the two waiters descended on Jason. Brett grabbed Jason’s other shoulder, and the waiters tried to grab him around the upper arm and the back of his jacket, but Jason still had a tight hold on Monica, so they couldn’t pull him away without hurting her.
Then a different hand clamped around Jason’s wrist. Monica looked up and saw that Shaun had circled around Jason and the waiters to the other side of the booth, next to her.
Shaun’s thumb pressed Jason’s ulnar nerve against the bone, causing him excruciating pain. His hand around Monica’s arm loosened, and Shaun forced him away from her. The two waiters pulled him back, immobilizing his arms.
“You’re not welcome in my restaurant, Mr. Mars.” Brett’s voice was taut.
“I’m never investing in your clinic,” Jason ranted at Monica.
“That’s good,” Brett replied, “because as of right now, I’m committing to investing in it. Unlike you, I think that Sonoma county needs a free children’s medical clinic.” He turned to Monica. “Did you want to press charges?”
“No.”
He nodded to the waiters, who hauled Jason out of the dining room. Then Brett stood and raised his voice to calmly address the other diners. “I’m so sorry about that, folks…”
A light touch on her shoulder made her turn and meet Shaun’s fierce blue eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thanks to you.”
His finger lifted and gently touched her jawline. That one soft point of contact burned against her skin. Then he removed his hand from her shoulder and stepped away.
She scooted out of the booth and rose to her feet. Her knees shook, but her loose business slacks hid it.
Brett turned to her. “I’m really sorry.”
“No, I am. He wouldn’t have known I was here if I hadn’t let it slip when I was talking to him on the phone a couple hours ago.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. But I hope he didn’t hurt your restaurant or your reputation.” Even if Jason’s accusations were false, the gossip could spread like wildfire.
Brett surprised her with his grin. “Are you kidding? There were several people shooting video with their phones. It’ll be on the internet in a few hours. The publicity will be fantastic for this restaurant. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“I understand if you weren’t serious about investing in the clinic,” Monica said. “I don’t want you to invest just on the spur of the moment.”
Brett laughed. “I’d committed to investing while you were giving your presentation, but…” He lifted a cautionary finger. “…provided I can also look at your business plan before I sign anything.”
“Of course. All the investors will be getting a copy as soon as it’s finalized. Thank you.” She reached into the booth to collect her purse.
“I can’t interest you in dessert?” Brett said ruefully.
“I’m afraid I have to get back to Sonoma,” Monica said. “I have to take my dad to his physical therapy session this afternoon.”
“Well, I’ll look forward to the party, then.” Brett shook her hand and leaned forward to kiss her again, but he bussed her cheek without her even needing to turn her head.
Shaun’s face seemed to have a cloud over it as he walked her out of the restaurant, and he didn’t look at her. Jealous. He was jealous. The thought made her heart give a quick leap.
No.
She rubbed her hand against her breastbone to make the warm feeling go away. After they caught this stalker, Shaun would apply for the Sonoma Police Department. She had to remember that.
They exited the restaurant, but the sudden roar of a car engine sent her pulse hammering in her ears. At the same moment, Shaun thrust an arm out in front of her and positioned his body as a shield.
From their right, a car shot toward them.
They backpedaled a few steps, Monica clinging to Shaun’s arm. There was a loud buzzing in her ears from the adrenaline.
A shiny silver sports car came to a halt in front of them, and Jason Mars leaned out the open driver’s side window. His face was ugly and his eyes wide and wild.
“You’ll regret this,” he growled.
Then he stepped on the gas and drove away.
NINE
It had been four days since Monica’s first meeting with investors, and no photos had arrived from the stalker.
Shaun wondered if he’d been expecting the guy to be too stupid or arrogant to realize what Monica was doing, but it looked like he might have caught on to the trap they’d laid for him.
The only photos Shaun had seen had been shots of the argument taken by diners at Brett Marshall’s restaurant, along with a couple of videos posted on the web. Like Marshall had predicted, the argument had gotten him a lot of publicity for his restaurant. However, it didn’t seem to have caught the stalker’s attention.
What did that mean? Was the stalker silent about the argument and the attack on Monica because either Marshall or Mars was the stalker? Wouldn’t the stalker revel in the fact that one of Monica’s investors hurt her?
It had been all he could do not to rise up to punch Jason Mars in the chin for grabbing Monica. He’d also had to rein himself when Marshall had flirted with her all through lunch. Rock Love was supposed to be an award-winning restaurant, but the food had been ashes in his mouth.
“Are you almost done?” she asked him.
He pulled his mind back to what he was supposed to be doing, which was setting up the video camera for her computer so she could video chat with one of her investors, Rodney Lassiter.
Monica had mentioned that Lassiter was very young—only twenty-five years old—but already VP of his family’s successful luxury foods distribution company. He had been in college in Boston while Clare was in L.A. But he was about Phillip’s height, although his hair was a lighter brown, so she’d left a message for him when she called the other investors from the Zoe banquet that they suspected might be the stalker. Lassiter had called her a couple of days ago to set up this video chat appointment because he was supposedly in Florida.
Shaun watched her put finishing touches on her makeup and straighten the collar of her conservative business suit. She was beautiful, as always, but he preferred her more casual clothes when she was with him a few days ago and they were trying to figure out where the stalker had been when taking each of the photos he’d sent to her. She’d had on jeans and a blouse, and her dark hair had waved around her face and down her shoulders. He’d wanted to touch it. He’d wanted to touch her neck, her jaw, her cheek.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He had to stop this.
Who was he kidding? His reaction to Monica’s meeting with Marshall and Mars’s attack on her proved that Shaun’s feelings for her had grown deeper than he’d realized.
She made him want to forget his guilt over his failure to prevent the deaths of his sister and the illegal immigrants at the border. He should have been smarter, faster, more aggressive. She made him want to unburden himself and let her comfort him, encourage him, heal him. She made him want to be whole and unwounded.
But he wasn’t whole. He wouldn’t be ever again. And he couldn’t get close to a woman because it just wouldn’t be fair to her. Event
ually, he’d fail her. He’d fail to protect her, like he’d failed to protect so many people. And when that happened, the pain would be so deep and raw that he’d be nothing better than an animal.
Shaun checked the wireless internet router box and tightened a loose connection. Then he went back to the computer and saw his image in the screen. “Your video camera is set up.”
“Thanks.” Monica went to close the library door and crossed the room to sit at the desk.
Shaun positioned himself to the side of her, where he could see her computer screen but out of range of the video camera.
With a few clicks of the mouse, Monica connected to Lassiter’s computer, and a tanned face appeared in the screen.
Shaun’s dad hadn’t grown up wealthy, but he’d made much of his money by the time Shaun was born, and so Shaun was familiar with some of the high-end clothing and accessories—including the sunglasses Lassiter wore, flashy and meant to announce to people that the wearer could afford to spend thousands of dollars just on a pair of shades. However, the shape of the glasses was wrong for his face. It made his face appear even more long and narrow than it already was. He also had a long nose without much of a bridge, so the glasses were already slipping down. Lassiter raised a hand to adjust his glasses, and the diamonds crusting his watch winked in the sunlight.
Shaun disliked the man on sight.
“Hi there, Monica.”
“Hi, Rodney. Thank you for making time to talk to me today.”
He gave a half smile. “I’m sitting next to the pool at the Efken Hotel right now, so it’s not really a hardship.”
Shaun grit his teeth at the way the man seemed to deliberately drop the name of the most exclusive, expensive hotel in Miami. Unknown to most people, his father had done some consulting work for the owner several years ago.
At least Lassiter didn’t waste time flirting with Monica the way Marshall had. His face was almost expressionless as he said, “Shall we get down to business? I’m afraid the only reason I’m at the pool bar is because I’m expecting to meet with one of our clients in about thirty minutes.”
“Certainly. Did you get my invitation for the party?”
“Party?” Rodney’s dark brows creased. “I’m afraid not. When did you send it? I’ve been in Florida for about two or three weeks now.” From the looks of his tan, he seemed to be telling the truth, but how to know for certain?
Monica went on to explain about the party she was throwing for the investors in the clinic, and also to answer his questions about the project. Her face was cool and professional, but Shaun noticed that her eyes kept searching Rodney’s face. What was she looking for?
As she talked, Shaun’s mind churned. Something about this guy just didn’t sit right with him. But a part of him realized it might simply be that he didn’t like Lassiter very much.
He remembered his fleeting thought about Lassiter’s tan, and his comment that he’d been in Florida for several weeks. He’d seemed to mention the hotel deliberately, but since this was an internet call, he could be anywhere—including out in someone’s backyard in Sonoma. How to know that Lassiter really was in Florida?
And then he had an idea.
Shaun turned to where the Grants’ wireless internet router sat on the bottom shelf of a bookcase, and he deliberately disconnected the internet.
“Rodney? Rodney?” Monica looked at Shaun and saw him squatting beside the router. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure he’s telling the truth.” Shaun picked up Monica’s cell phone where it sat on the desk, put it on speakerphone, and dialed his father’s administrative assistant. “Hi, Lynn, it’s Shaun. Could you please do me a favor? I was talking to a guy at the Efken Hotel in Miami and we got cut off, and I can’t get him back on his cell phone. I know he’s by the pool. Can you patch me into the manager at the Efken? Thanks.”
Monica regarded him suspiciously. “How would your father know the manager at the Efken?”
“It’s not common knowledge, but the Efken was struggling a few years ago. The owner called my father in to consult with them. Dad also asked me to consult with them on their security layout at the time.” Shaun then turned his attention back to the cell phone as the Efken manager answered.
“Hello, Baker Worley speaking.”
“Baker, it’s Shaun O’Neill, Patrick O’Neill’s son.”
“Shaun! Nice to hear from you again.”
“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I was video chatting with Rodney Lassiter who’s sitting beside the pool, and I lost my internet connection. I don’t know his cell phone number, but could you patch me in to the bartender at the pool and ask him to give the phone to Rodney?”
“Oh, sure.”
“So, has Rodney been giving you any problems?” Shaun asked in a jovial voice. “If he has, just tell me and I’ll rough him up for you.”
“Oh, of course not.” Baker chuckled.
“How long has he been staying with you guys? Do you know?”
“Uh…over a week, at least. No, it’s more like two or three weeks. He’s got the Presidential Suite, and I had to turn away an actress and a country singer who both called and wanted to stay in the suite at the last minute, but Mr. Lassiter has it for another week or two.”
“You should have sent them both up. Rodney would have had a kick out of it.” Shaun faked a laugh. “Sorry to take up your time, Baker. I’ll let you get back to work. If you could please patch me through to Rodney?”
“Certainly, Shaun.”
Baker put them on hold, then a minute later, a voice answered, “This is Danny at the Rowan Terrace bar. How can I help you?”
Monica said, “Danny, my name is Monica Grant. Could you please give the telephone to Rodney Lassiter? He should be sitting at the bar.”
“Could you please wait a moment, Ms. Grant?”
“Yes.”
There was a short, muffled conversation, then, “Hello?” Rodney Lassiter’s nasally voice came on the line.
So Lassiter really was in Florida, and had apparently been there for a few weeks.
“Rodney, it’s Monica Grant. I’m so sorry, but for some reason, my internet went down.”
“I wondered what had happened. I tried calling your cell phone but was shunted to voice mail.”
“I was probably calling the hotel to try to connect with you,” Monica said.
“I’m afraid I need to meet with my client in a few minutes.”
“Will you be at my party in a few days?”
Lassiter paused. “Could I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Could you… Do you…” This was the first time in the entire conversation that Lassiter seemed unsure and hesitant.
Monica’s brow wrinkled as she looked at the phone sitting on the desk. “Yes?”
His question came out in a rush. “I hope I’m not being rude in asking this, but will Phillip Bromley be there?”
Shaun and Monica stared at each other in surprise. Then Monica recovered and replied, “Uh…why do you ask?”
“I don’t mean to… I saw you talking to Phillip at the Zoe banquet a few minutes before you and I were introduced. Is he a close friend of yours?”
“He’s…a potential investor. Is he a friend of yours?”
Lassiter didn’t answer right away, and his uncharacteristic manner made Shaun lean closer to the phone.
Finally, he said, “Please keep this in confidence, because I don’t wish to spread rumors about Phillip. I’m not even sure if what I saw was real. But I thought I saw him a few days ago.”
“In Florida?”
“That’s why at first I didn’t think it was Phillip. His bank is in San Francisco.”
“Where did you see him?”
“It was late. I’d met a client for dinner. The restaurant valet had brought my car around, but I was in the middle of a conversation with my client, so the valet left the car parked a few yards from the restaurant doors. By the ti
me my client and I said goodbye, the valets had gone off to fetch some other cars. I went around to get into my car, but before I could even open the door, I heard an engine. It seemed louder than it should be, so I looked around and a car was gunning right for me.
“I jumped back out of the way. The car almost hit me. I looked at the driver and I thought it looked like Phillip Bromley. But I don’t know why Phillip would want to hurt me.”
Shaun didn’t understand. Why would Phillip Bromley try to run down Rodney Lassiter? Had it really been Phillip? Lassiter was a potential investor. If Phillip was the stalker, would he harm the investors to force Monica to stop work on the clinic?
“When did this happen?” Monica asked.
“Four days ago.”
The same day she’d had her first meeting with an investor. The stalker hadn’t sent photos of Monica from that day. Maybe because he was in Miami trying to run down Rodney Lassiter?
“I’m…” Monica took a quick breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if Mr. Bromley will be at the party.”
“Even if he weren’t attending, I’m not sure I’d be able to travel to Sonoma,” Lassiter said. “I have a few more clients I need to meet with here in Florida, and I may not be done with my business by then. However, please do keep me updated on your project. I’m very interested in it.”
As Monica disconnected her call with Lassiter, the sound of the doorbell reached them through the closed library door. “I wonder who that is? The mail already came this morning.”
“Package delivery?” Shaun went to the library door and opened it. He was in time to see Evita open the front door and let in Detective Carter.
The detective strode into the foyer, his face grim, and caught sight of Shaun. “Is Monica with you, Shaun?”
“Yes.”
“I need to speak to both of you.”
“Come into the library.” Shaun stood aside for him to enter, and then shut the door.
“I need you both to tell me what happened at Rock Love restaurant two days ago,” the detective said.
“Rock Love?” Monica asked. “Did Brett file an incident report or something like that?”
