The front desk clerk mumbled something under her breath that I was too angry to even pay attention to. Then she turned to another guard, and they both looked in my direction and laughed. They didn’t stop the paparazzi when they’d tried to come in. It was like the officers wanted my face plastered across the tabloids.
I tried to look calm, cool, and collected, but the whole situation was trying on me. I was in absolute danger of being photographed dressed down.
I hoped that Daisy would hurry up and get there. I’d never been taken down to the sheriff’s station before. I shouldn’t be there. All I could do was think about what had happened to cause me to end up there. None of it made any sense, not the housekeeper taking video or Nate missing. I prayed the blood in the upstairs bathroom wasn’t his. I didn’t know what I would do if I lost my best friend even though I was pissed as hell at him.
Finally, the doors to the waiting area opened, and in walked a six-foot-four muscular man. He reminded me of the men Daisy talked about. He had on a pair of dark denim jeans and a white button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off the man’s arms. Tattoos lined his biceps, adding to his sex appeal. I licked my lips. His hair was pulled back. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on me. At least I thought they did—it was difficult to tell because of the aviator glasses he was wearing.
With a couple of steps, he was by my side. He raised his glasses, and his deep-gray eyes hypnotized me. “Annabella, my name is John Waters. We’ve met a couple times. Daisy sent me to pick you up.”
I didn’t remember meeting him before. The man was sexy as hell. I would have remembered if he’d walked into a room. My mind was going a million miles a minute, and I wanted out of the sheriff’s station. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful Mr. Waters had come to get me, but I really needed to see my friend as soon as possible.
“Where’s Daisy?” I blurted out.
“Waiting in the car. I’ll take you to her.”
Tears began to stream down my face, and I finally managed to say what I should’ve opened with. “Thank you.” I felt like a broken woman. This was all more than I could handle at the moment.
“Here.” John pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to me. “There are a lot of reporters out there. When I open the door, stay next to me, and I will make a path. If you want to, cover your head with the jacket.”
Everything seemed so unreal. I nodded and followed John to the door. When he pulled the handle of the door back, cameras blinded me with their flashes. Everyone was yelling my name, asking why I was taken in and where Nate was. I wished I knew. Not wanting my face plastered across all the gossip rags, I put John’s jacket over my head then grabbed the back of his shirt and held on. With each step we took, the crowd became more restless. John reached back and grabbed my hand. I expected his hands to be rough and calloused. Instead, his hand was soft.
When we reached the sidewalk, Neal, one of Daisy’s future husbands, jumped out of the black Escalade parked along the sidewalk and opened the back door. When we were within feet of the vehicle, John grabbed me around the waist and pushed me into the waiting SUV. The flashing lights and yells intensified with each step. John jumped in next to me and pulled the door shut. Even with the door closed and the blackout tint on the windows, the paparazzi continued to rain down questions.
At the top of the stairs to the station stood the officer who’d brought me in. His arms were crossed, and his sunglasses made it impossible to see his eyes. But his rigid stance and body language suggested he was glaring at our car.
“Are you okay?” Daisy asked as she wrapped her arms around me.
I shifted in the leather seat. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Neal cleared his throat from the front seat, his eyes meeting mine through the review mirror. “Don’t worry Annabella, Brock is meeting us at the house and we will figure everything out.” John shifted in the seat next to me.
We were silent as we rode to the house Daisy shared with her men. Neal said not to worry, but he wasn’t the one being accused of killing someone. Even worse, I was accused of killing my best friend. Aaron and Neal were in the front seat, while Daisy and I hugged each other throughout the entire ride in the back seat. John sat next to me. I could feel his body heat. He sat with his arms crossed and stared out the window.
I was struggling not to cry anymore. “Daisy, I’m sorry to pull you away from your opening. You can drop me off at my house, and you can go back.” Earlier, I had panicked when the deputy said I had to go to the sheriff’s office, and I hadn’t known who to call. Asking Daisy to leave her special day was selfish of me, and I felt evil for doing it.
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. We were already open for a while, and I got to meet a lot of the new girls. Kat, my sister-in-law, runs the sister shelter back in Ft. Lauderdale. She and her husband have it under control. Brock and Jessica are meeting us back at our house so we can figure out a game plan. Kat and Antonio will stay and work the shelter with the staff.”
I let her words sink in. It was nice to have someone look out for me without wanting something in return. No one in Hollywood ever did anything without an ulterior motive or the promise of some type of gain. I could’ve called my manager, but I was worried he would turn the whole mess into some kind of publicity. All I wanted was to find Nate and figure out what had happened. He couldn’t be dead. Even though I had been mad at him last night, I’d never wanted him to die.
“Okay, but I can go home.”
John’s deep, gravelly voice startled me. “I talked with the sheriff’s office on our way over to pick you up. Your house hasn’t been released yet. You might be able to get back in tomorrow.”
I laid my head back against the leather seat and listened as everyone talked around me. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them, this nightmare would be over and I could go back to my customary life. I didn’t even want to look at my phone. More than likely, I had twenty missed calls from my manager and double that from the producer of the movie I was working on. The contract for the film had stipulations about being arrested. I’d never imagined it would happen, so I had always skipped over reading that part of the agreement. Acting was my life, and I didn’t know what this situation was going to do to my career… or if I would even have one after it was all said and done.
Aaron turned down a long drive and clicked a button to open the large black iron gate. Neal and Aaron had surprised Daisy with a new house in Los Angeles a month ago. Her men had been worried Aaron’s house wasn’t safe enough after she had been kidnapped again a short few months ago. They’d had the house alarmed and cameras installed everywhere. Daisy told me they’d done the same thing in her home in Ft Lauderdale. The extra security seemed to make Daisy more relaxed. She also wore a diamond necklace that contained a tracker. She had asked for the tracker after her first kidnapping.
The SUV came to a stop in front of the modern, stylish mansion. I was used to seeing large houses and being around celebrities, but Daisy’s house put most of my other friends’ homes to shame. John held the door open for me to get out. I was still dressed in the blue scrubs from earlier. When I glanced at my hands, I could see specks of blood under my nails.
Next to the doorbell was a screen mounted to the house. At first glance, I didn’t think anything of it until Neal pressed his hand to a black screen and the door lock clicked open. John placed his hand on my lower back. His warm presence gave me a sense of security. When he moved away, I felt the loss.
Brock and Jessica were already at the house, and we all quickly settled into the living room. John poured me a drink to calm my nerves.
“What happened?” Brock asked. “We need to know so we can help you.”
I nodded as I sucked down the amber liquid that burned all the way down to my stomach. “We made plans earlier in the day for him to come home after work. We were going to finish the last couple of details on the wedding and then look at our 23andMe reports. He was
excited when he called and said he couldn’t wait to show me mine. Nate wouldn’t tell me what it said—he wanted to show me.” I took a deep breath and held out my glass for more liquor. John’s pour was smaller the second time, probably so they could get the story from me before I was drunk. I took another sip, smaller this time, before continuing. “When he didn’t come home right away, I grabbed a glass of wine and finished the wedding details myself. When he did get home, I knew from the goofy look on his face and the smell of strange cologne on him that he’d been with his lover.”
Their brows rose.
“He’s gay,” I explained. “I agreed to be his wife because his family would cut him off and not let him practice in the law firm anymore if he lived as openly gay.”
“Why didn’t he just open his own law firm?” Neal asked. “Is his parents’ money that important?” He had been on his computer since we’d walked into the house. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, waiting for my answer.
I closed my eyes and remembered the first time Nate had come to my house with a broken arm and a black eye. “He tried to leave the family business multiple times. Each time was followed by me taking him to the hospital with a broken bone. One night after I came home from filming, I found Nate curled up on my couch. He was minutes away from dying. Someone had dropped him off at my house and deleted the footage as they left. Nate wouldn’t tell me who it was or what was going on. He just needed a wife.”
Nate and I hadn’t talked often about what had happened. He would clam up and tell me not to worry about it.
“I’ve never had much luck in the dating realm, and we always joked that if we weren’t married by the time we hit our thirties, we would marry each other. We talked about all the wedding plans together. We shared everything going on in our lives. He was one of my best friends… I mean is. That’s why getting married wasn’t such a stretch.” I shrugged. “Only Nate had grown more secretive in recent days. I chalked it up to nerves over getting married. I knew that deciding to go through with it and asking me to be his fake fiancé had created a lot of stress and strife for both of us.”
I took another sip. “I know he was seeing someone on the side, and I was willing to break the marriage off. But if he felt it was imperative for him to live life under the guise of being straight and keeping his boyfriend a secret, then who was I to argue? Not only did he agree to give me a very generous allowance for marrying him, but he also promised me the option to have lovers on the side, as long as I kept it quiet like he did. This all seemed more than fair. And because I love planning a party more than almost anything, I was happy to follow through with my part of the bargain.”
“She does throw amazing parties,” Daisy agreed.
I continued to tell the story of how I’d ended up in jail. The night before, instead of Nate indulging my whims and helping me select hors d’oeuvres and wine pairings, he had broken down and cried. The very last thing I needed was to feel like the bad guy, as if the wedding were my idea and I was the one ruining his life. That was when I’d snapped. I accused him of being ungrateful. I reminded him of everything I was giving up to help him. And I suggested that the very least he could do was to show a little gratitude and not try to make the entire experience miserable. Then I stormed off because if I’d learned anything in dealing with men, it was that having a mini-meltdown went a long way toward ensuring I would get what I wanted.
When I came home the next day from work, Nate was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t called, which was unusual for him and only served to make me feel worse about the situation. We were off to a lousy start. If I wanted to be miserable while I was married, then I could marry a straight guy. At least then I wouldn’t have to go looking for sex since I would have someone who was there, ready, and on demand.
I went on to tell everyone about how I’d searched the house to find Nate. He didn’t come out when I called. He didn’t peek out when I slammed the door. It was highly unusual for him not to respond. I went out to the pool, which was one of his favorite spots for thinking and moping, but he wasn’t there. So I headed upstairs, and that was when I spotted blood outside his bedroom. When I went in, I found blood everywhere in the bathroom. He was extremely picky, so I’d started to clean up the mess.
“That’s when I picked up the knife to take it downstairs and start cleaning up the mess. But when I turned, I found a deputy in the doorway.”
“Wait,” Brock demanded. “How did the deputy find his way into your house?”
I took the last sip of the amber liquor, and the burn felt good down my throat. “That was my question to him, but he didn’t like the knife in my hand. When I stepped forward, he pulled his gun. I fell and that’s how I ended up covered in blood. When we finally made it downstairs is when I got my answer. Our cleaning lady called the cops because she saw blood and me walking around it.”
“What is her name?” Neal asked, not looking up from his laptop.
“It’s Ms. Orchard. What’s even stranger is she was in our house the night before and recorded my fight with Nate. We have strict contracts with the help. No videoing in our house. She turned over the video to the police. It shows me yelling at Nate, throwing my wine on him, and storming out of the room.”
John poured a little more amber liquor into my cup.
Brock clicked his phone on. “Do you have a lawyer? You shouldn’t have talked to the cops without one.”
I was angry, distraught, outraged, and anxious. I hadn’t called my lawyer. “I didn’t think I needed one. Then suddenly, they were taking me to the station to collect evidence.”
John stood and started to pace back and forth in front of the tall white fireplace. “This doesn’t make sense. You had a fight, and someone happened to be in your house to videotape it. Then the police show up right when you’re walking around the crime scene. If they just wanted your evidence, they could’ve collected it there.”
“They needed an official statement.”
He stopped pacing and focused his gray eyes on me, causing my heart rate to increase. I didn’t know why, all of a sudden, I was melting into a puddle when some man looked at me. I’d given up on finding a man that made my heart beat faster, my palms sweat, and images of dirty things pop into my mind.
“But you said they took you down to the station,” he said. “You could’ve gone the next day to give your statement. This all sounds fucked up.”
I had no clue what happened when someone went missing. “The sheriff said Nate’s dad is a friend of the family and called him when Nate didn’t show up to work. What I don’t understand is why he thought that was such a big deal. Nate sometimes just doesn’t show up for a few days.”
Brock tapped his finger on his glass of amber liquor. “Do you know his family well? Could they be setting you up for his murder? You mentioned earlier he would come home beaten sometimes. Maybe it went too far this time, and they’re trying to take you down.”
Neal let out a whistle. “You might be onto something, Brock. Annabella, did you read Nate’s will?”
Over the past week, Nate had given me lots of documents to sign before the wedding. I’d just assumed it was the prenup we had talked about. I hadn’t minded signing it—Nate was worth way more than me. We’d discussed in full what it was, so when Nate had handed it to me, I’d signed without reading. “No. I know I should’ve, but I didn’t. Someone mentioned earlier that he’d changed it, and that’s another reason I’m the prime suspect.”
John leveled a heated look at me. “You signed a legal document without reading it?”
I downed the amber liquor in my cup. The alcohol was starting to hit my bloodstream. It was helping keep my nerves under control. I didn’t like having to explain my life to so many people. And on top of that, one of my closest friends was still missing. “Nate is my primary lawyer and has been since he graduated. He never did anything wrong before, so yes, I signed without reading. Neal, how bad is it?”
Brock leaned over Neal’s shoulder. His ey
es were large with surprise. “Nate’s grandparents opened up the law firm. When they passed, the firm was willed to Nate, not his parents. And Nate didn’t have you sign a prenup. It was his will. He changed his will last week. In case he died, you got everything. But if something happens to you, his sister will get everything.”
Why would he put me in the middle of his family issues? “If he owned the firm, why did his parents have so much over him? Why not make peace? This doesn’t make sense. I saw the broken arms and bruises. Someone hurt him, and now he might be dead. And I’m in charge of the fucked-up family’s fortune.”
I was furious. I was desperate. I no longer trusted the system. I didn’t understand how I could even be in trouble. It made no sense. They had no body. “How are they making me surrender my passport if there is no body.”
I was convinced Nate had injured himself or someone close to him had injured him, but deep down, I knew he was still alive. I kept waiting for him to show up with a bandage and an apology.
“Hell, I’m supposed to be on set first thing in the morning. The cops wouldn’t let me take my phone. They told me it was evidence. All they did was treat me like I killed Nate, and they don’t have any evidence that he’s even dead. I keep thinking he’s going to walk through the door at any second and think this is a funny joke. I have no credit cards on me. Everything I have is at Nate’s house. I’ve already sold mine. Where am I supposed to go?” Tears streamed down my face.
Daisy came over and wrapped me in a hug. “You stay here tonight. We will figure everything out in the morning. I think the boys have enough to go on for a while. Let’s get you settled into the guest room.”
John, Aaron, and Brock were huddled around Neal as Daisy walked me out of the room. I hoped they would find something to clear my name. More than anything, I hoped my friend wasn’t dead.
Hacker Salvation: White Hat Security, Book 7 Page 3
