by SUE FINEMAN
Nick called, “Leave it outside the door,” and went to pull on a T-shirt and sweat pants.
Minutes later, as they sat in the recliners in front of the television eating pizza, Cara said, “I don’t like this movie.”
“You don’t like action movies?”
“Not especially. I like love stories.”
He made a face. “That gushy stuff that makes women cry?”
“Something wrong with that?”
“Not if you’re a woman. This is my favorite movie.”
She swallowed a bite of pizza. “So you’ve seen this before?”
He shrugged. “Sure, lots of times.”
“Then let’s watch something else.” With the pizza set aside, they sat on the floor and dug through the stack of videos in the cabinet by the television. For every action film he picked, she found a love story.
Finally, he picked one and held it up. “We’re watching this one.”
She snatched it out of his hand and held it behind her. He reached around her to get it, laughing, and his hand slipped and touched her bare thigh. He gazed into her eyes, his smile turned into a look of longing, and she knew they wouldn’t be eating any more pizza.
He took his hand off her leg and reached around her with both hands. When she felt his warm breath on her cheek, she turned slightly, brushing her cheek against his. Their lips touched and it was as if the world stopped. Nothing else mattered, nothing but this man and this moment. Cara slipped her hands under his shirt, against his warm stomach, and up his back as his lips took her body and soul to a place of love and passion.
He slid his hands inside her robe, causing her skin to tingle and her breath to catch. His body felt warm and solid, pulsing with life, and she realized how close he’d come to dying. She’d nearly lost him, and she loved him so much she would have died, too.
“Oh, God, what you do to me,” he murmured, kissing her neck and ear.
She locked the door, dropped her robe, and turned down the bed. Using the remote on the headboard, she dimmed the lights and ran her hand across her breasts and belly. Nick’s eyes caught every nuance. He was still on his knees on the floor, where she’d left him, but she reached down for his hand and he turned toward her, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh and her stomach and breasts. She dropped to her knees in front of him and pressed her body against his, pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Once Nick touched her, he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. He walked her to the bed, where he positioned her with a pillow under her hips. She was already wet and she tasted better than the pizza. She came quickly the first time, and he took his time loving her before he brought her to a second, deeper climax and followed her over the edge.
“I love you, Cara,” he whispered. “Dear God, how I love you.”
Nick lay beside her, touching her face, her hair, her breast, trying to memorize the way she looked and felt and smelled. She’d wrapped herself around his heart the day he pulled her out of that broken house, and every day since then he’d loved her more.
He’d stay until he finished the job he’d started at RASH, then he’d go home and get to work. Someday, when he had a stable job and Lance was out of the picture, they’d talk about the future.
Chapter Eighteen
After Cara fell asleep, Nick dressed and went to find Gerry. He found him in the study, poring over the financial records for RASH. Gerry looked up and sighed. “I can’t believe Holcomb was stupid enough to pull a stunt like this.”
“Did you talk with the prosecutor?”
“You bet I did, and he’s coming by the house tomorrow to look at these records. I asked Teresa to make photo copies of the current files for our use, and she’s going to make a list of all the properties that were bought and sold. I expect the prosecutor to take these as evidence.”
“Teresa?”
“She worked in an office before she came here, but she didn’t make enough to live on. I’m going to suggest that Cara use her as a private secretary. She has Marge in the city, but she needs someone here, and so do I.”
Nick nodded. It sounded like a good idea to him. He could use some help with RASH, too, but his mind was on something else at that moment. “Hey, Gerry, do you know where Lance lived before he met Cara?”
“San Diego.”
“What did he do there?”
Gerry looked up. “Do?”
“Yeah, do. Did he have a job or mooch off a girlfriend or what?”
Gerry threw his glasses on the desk. “He wasn’t there long, only three or four months, and no, he didn’t have a job. Why?”
Nick plowed his fingers through his hair. “Just a hunch.”
“He didn’t have an arrest record there, if that’s what you’re getting at. Apparently, he wasn’t there long enough to get himself in trouble.”
“Maybe, and maybe he just didn’t get caught.” Nick felt certain that Lance was there for a reason. Given the way he’d come after Cara, he was willing to bet there was a woman involved. A wealthy woman. “When did he leave San Diego?”
Gerry shrugged. “I don’t know... late summer, I think.”
“And Cara met him in October.”
Gerry sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet. “Nick, it’s late and—”
“Humor me, Gerry. This is important. I want you to call that private detective and have him check into unsolved crimes against wealthy women in San Diego.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Just check it out. It could be a dead end, but let’s be sure, okay?”
“Fine, I’ll call Paul next week.”
“First thing in the morning,” snapped Nick. “This can’t wait until next week.” He lowered his voice. “And Gerry?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t mention it to Cara until we know something.”
<>
Hutch called Cara the next morning and agreed to take Ron Holcomb’s job. He said he’d work part time and help teach Bart the investment side of the business, so Bart could take over in a year or two. Cara was delighted, and so was Bart.
Over the next few days, the estate buzzed with activity. Teresa started working as a personal assistant to Cara, Nick, and Gerry. After three days, Nick didn’t know how they’d gotten along without her. Marge helped out at the estate offices, getting estimates on painting and new flooring for the vacant office building. Bart audited the financial records for RASH and gave Nick a copy of the report he’d given the prosecutor.
Al flew down to help Nick with the designs for the apartment complex Jasper Solomon wanted to turn into condos. They walked through the buildings together, measuring and making notes.
Nick had a crew fix up the four apartments on the main floor of one building so the current residents would have a place to live while the work was being done. The apartments were in sorry shape, but the plumbing worked and they had the power turned on. With the long list of people waiting for public housing, the only other option was to push those people out into the street, and nobody wanted to do that.
Someone from the state put the old woman in a nursing home. Others took the three neglected kids from their alcoholic mother and put them in a foster home. Cara bought the kids new clothes and toys before they left, and she had Teresa arrange to send the kids’ mother to a rehab hospital. Nick wondered if it would have made a difference in his life if someone had done that for his mother. Probably not, but it might make a difference for this family.
The luxury condos owned by RASH were listed for sale by Solomon’s company. Nick met with Jasper Solomon and reviewed the listing agreements. Although the listings ran a full year and they had four months left on the contract, Nick told Solomon to go to hell and tore up the listing agreements in front of him. Solomon was the one who instigated the whole scam. The prosecutor’s people were still investigating, and it would take months before charges were filed, but somewhere down the line, these people would pay for what they’d done
. If the prosecutor didn’t file criminal charges, Nick would ask Gerry to file civil lawsuits against all four men. Solomon would undoubtedly lose his real estate license over this.
Nick interviewed three real estate brokers. The man he chose to work with suggested cutting the asking price on the new condos, so the elderly and handicapped could afford them. With wide doorways and elevator access to each floor, a bus stop out front, and smooth sidewalks, they were perfect for that purpose. Nick said he’d have someone build ramps beside the steps for easy wheelchair access. The lower selling price wouldn’t cover the cost of their initial investment, but it would pay the mortgage Ron took out to pay for the renovations, so they wouldn’t lose any more money. And Nick’s first priority was to stop the business from gobbling up any more money. Giving it away for good causes was one thing. Squandering it so four greedy men could pad their wallets was another.
<>
Gerry gave Nick an update on Paul’s investigation in San Diego. “He didn’t find any unsolved crimes against wealthy women. Lance was an actor, and he socialized with the people who financed the little theater productions.”
“Rich people?” said Nick. “Anyone in particular? Any woman in particular?”
“There was one, Gwen Billings, a British citizen who lived part time in San Diego.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Did Paul talk to her?”
Gerry shook his head. “She died from a fall off the balcony at her home. The police called it a suicide, but it could have been an accident. At the request of her brother, police are looking at the case again.”
“Lance killed her.” There was no question about it in Nick’s mind.
“Maybe. Paul called her brother in London. He described his sister as a happy, light-hearted person. He said she wouldn’t have killed herself, that she was planning to marry a man she called her ‘Lancelot.’ He said he’d never met the man she was to marry, but he advised her to have her fiancé sign a prenuptial agreement.”
“I don’t suppose this woman sent her brother a picture of this Lancelot guy.”
“It’s on the way to the San Diego Police. Paul asked him to send me a picture, too.”
“Does Cara know?”
“I thought I’d wait until the picture arrives. It should be here in a day or two. No sense upsetting her if it wasn’t Lance.”
“It was.” Nick had no doubt that Lance was responsible, and he had to stop him from killing again. To do that, he had to go back to Gig Harbor. He knew Lance would follow. That bastard knew he couldn’t get to anyone at the estate. Killing them while they worked in San Francisco was a possibility, but if he shot at them in the crowded city, someone was bound to see. It was too risky. Cara’s property in Gig Harbor, including the dock and boat, was in a secluded area. Lance had been there once before, and Nick knew he’d come again if he thought he’d have an opportunity to kill again. But the next time, Nick would be ready.
<>
Cara slept with Nick every night. She made no pretense of staying in her own suite, and no one said anything to her or to Nick. If anything, the staff seemed happy. They walked around smiling all the time. So did Cara. She’d never been happier.
Nick seemed more comfortable at the estate and with the work he was doing with RASH. Cara had come to rely on him more and more for sound, practical business advice. He had excellent instincts when it came to business matters, and the more he got involved in RASH, the more confident he became.
Cara sat with Nick and Teresa in the study one day going over the list of buildings RASH owned. Cara and Nick had been going in different directions, with Nick getting the apartment renovations going, and Cara working with Mary Margaret on the Foundation. It was the first time in days they’d both been at home at the same time during the day.
Going down the list, she reviewed the status of the RASH properties. The three houses were all occupied, although the one that was scheduled for renovation wasn’t bringing in any rent. The office buildings were occupied, with the exception of the one Nick and Cara looked at with the contractor. The real estate broker had listed them for sale and stated in the listing that new flooring would be installed as a condition of sale. Nick said that was all they needed, aside from fresh paint, a new air conditioner in one building, and some elevator work in the other. He’d already scheduled the work.
The two parcels of land RASH owned had been listed by Solomon as build to suit, but Nick had the new broker list them as undeveloped land. After a week on the market, they already had people interested.
“So what’s left to do?” Cara asked Nick.
“We have a run-down house that looks like it needs work, but the first step is to chase out whoever is living there.”
“That blue one we drove by the other day?”
Nick nodded. “There’s also a small hotel in a seedy part of town. It’s still in business, but I have a feeling it’s the kind of clientele who rents by the hour, if you know what I mean. I drove by, but I didn’t go inside.”
“That’s it? That’s all that’s left?”
Nick opened his hands. “That’s it. The condos are starting to sell, and the apartment renovations will take months. The other two houses are pulling in rent. We could offer them to the tenants, maybe on a lease option basis, with part of the rent going toward a down payment. If they don’t want to buy, we’ll list them for sale, unless you want to keep them for something.”
“No, that’s fine,” said Cara. “Let’s go check out the hotel and the blue house.”
Cara went upstairs to get her purse and change her shoes, and Gerry came in to see Nick. He showed him the picture of Gwen Billings’ Lancelot. It was the same man he saw on television, asking the public to help find Cara. Michael Lance. If he had any doubts at all about Lance’s intentions toward Cara, they disappeared the instant he set eyes on the picture. The man had killed another woman and he wouldn’t stop until Cara was dead, too.
“Cara needs to be guarded until the bastard is locked away or dead.” Gerry shook his head. “If he’s responsible for killing the Billings woman, he did it after he found out he couldn’t get to her money. That means he won’t stop when Cara gets her divorce. Sally said he had a nasty temper. Cara cut him off and he’s pissed. I’m afraid he’ll come after her again the first chance he gets.”
Gerry turned his head and Nick heard Cara coming down the hall. “Keep this under your hat, both of you,” Nick said quietly. Teresa nodded and Gerry sighed, then nodded.
Cara walked in the door. “Ready to go?”
She wore navy slacks with a pale pink polo shirt, and she looked so good Nick wanted to kiss her right that minute. Instead, he said, “I’m ready.”
“I thought we’d drive ourselves this time,” she said. “Gerry brought my car down.”
“No,” said Nick. “We’ll take whatever car you want, but we’re taking a guard along. Lance is still out there somewhere and we’re not taking any chances with your life.”
She sighed. “Okay. Gerry, isn’t the court date for the divorce coming up soon?”
“Two weeks,” said Gerry. “It would have been over by now if Lance’s attorney hadn’t asked for a postponement.”
“Okay, guards for two more weeks,” said Cara.
“Like hell,” said Nick. “You’ll have a guard until they catch that bastard.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Who says?”
“I do, that’s who. Call for your car and a guard and we’ll go.”
Cara glared at Nick, but she did as he asked. He knew how she felt about freedom, knew she didn’t like having guards hovering around her all the time, but for now, it was a necessity.
They took the Bentley, with the driver and a guard. First on the list was the hotel, a rundown four-story building. Nick looked it over from the car before he got out. “Why would Solomon buy this piece of shit?”
The guard said, “I read a newspaper article several months ago about this street. Some big developer
was thinking of buying all the property along here and ripping everything out to build a convention center.”
“Oh, yeah? What happened?”
“Nothing. I guess he changed his mind.”
“Great,” muttered Nick. “Solomon paid more than twice what it’s worth. Nobody in their right mind would buy this place, not in this neighborhood.”
Cara nudged Nick. “Let’s look inside.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The desk clerk, a greasy man with a cigarette glued to his lower lip, eyed them with a look of contempt. Nick stared him down. “Do you have empty rooms?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Nick Donatelli and this is Cara Andrews, the owner. We want to look at some of the vacant rooms.”
“I thought Jasper Solomon owned the building.”
“The RASH Corporation owns the building. Cara owns the corporation, and I run it.” Nick slapped the counter. “Now hand over the damn keys.”
Without another word, the man put four keys on the counter.
Cara asked, “How many rooms?”
“Twenty-four, eight on each of the upper floors. There’s a couple offices on this floor.”
“What kind of offices?” asked Nick.
“Loans and such.”
“Yeah, right.” Probably illegal. “Do they pay rent?” The clerk shrugged, and Nick knew they didn’t.
“Tell them to close up shop and move on,” Cara told the clerk. “Today.”
“Any regulars, or does everybody rent by the day?” asked Nick.
“Six regulars, all working girls. Sometimes the mission rents a few rooms during the cold weather.”
Nick took the keys and turned to Cara. “Why don’t you wait in the car?”
“No way.”
“The elevator is out,” said the clerk. “You’ll have to use the stairs.”
