"That's crazy," Sylvia said, shock in her voice. "What are you talking about?"
"David left photos of me and Victoria in my car," Ryland said tersely. "We were at my beach house yesterday."
"You're having an affair with Victoria? Are you stupid?" Sylvia's words were full of disgust and annoyance.
"She came on to me, and she's beautiful," Ryland said. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Not what you did. My God, how stupid are you?"
"My relationship with Victoria is none of your business. You need to rein your son in."
"How do you know David left the photos in your car?"
"I gave him my keys."
"There are three other valets who can access the vehicle."
"It's David, Sylvia. You have a blind spot when it comes to your son, but you know I'm telling the truth. You know he takes my car when I bring it to the club. You need to put a stop to this now."
"I'll take care of it. Don't give it another thought. Destroy the photos."
"I already have, but if he has copies—"
"They'll be destroyed as well, but you need to stop sleeping with Victoria. Alexander is not a man to mess with."
"She's like a drug. I'm addicted to her," he whined. "She's not happy with him."
"She'll never leave him, and you are playing with fire. Go home. I'll handle David."
"You better, or—"
"Or what? Don't threaten me, Ryland," Sylvia said sharply. "We go way back. I know far more of your secrets than this one."
"And I know yours. If you don't fire David and get him away from this club, you're going to be sorry, because there's a good chance I'm not the only rich member with secrets who he's trying to work for cash. You never should have hired him."
"He's my son."
"He's a problem that grows worse every day."
"Good night, Ryland." Sylvia's heels clattered down the stone pavement. Ryland stayed on the deck for another minute, and then walked away.
Maya let out the breath she'd been holding. Turning to Jax, she whispered, "Can you believe that? Ryland is sleeping with Alexander's wife."
"I heard," Jax said shortly, his lips drawn into a frown.
"And he's being blackmailed by Sylvia's son. That's crazy."
"I don't need a recap. What I need is to get back to work."
Her brows drew together in a frown. "Why are you so snappy?"
"Sorry, I just—we shouldn’t have kissed," he said, a hard note in his voice.
"But we did, and it was great."
"It can't happen again. I work here, Maya. I can't be messing around with guests. I need this job."
"Is that why you pulled me into these bushes?"
"Yes."
His reasoning made logical sense, but there was something that felt untrue about it, like he had another reason.
"You need to go, Maya. I'll give you a minute, and then I'll make my way inside."
"But…" She licked her lips, not sure what she wanted to say, except that she didn't really want to leave it like this. "We should talk about what we heard."
"I don't think Ryland being blackmailed has anything to do with your grandmother."
"Okay, but there are still other things to discuss. I've barely told you about my conversation with Constantine."
"I'll come by your house after my shift," he said. "We can talk then."
She couldn't quite read his mood, but she simply nodded and said, "I guess I'll see you later."
"You will."
She slipped out of the bushes and walked up the path to the club. As she entered the building, she ran into Sylvia. The woman seemed to be everywhere.
"I thought you went home," Sylvia said sharply.
"I was just looking around the grounds."
"Where did you go?"
Before she could answer, an older, red-haired woman joined them. Maya caught her breath. This was Constantine's wife, Louisa. Constantine had called her a beautiful red flame. Louisa was in her late fifties or early sixties, but her face was unlined, her makeup impeccable. However, her face paled as their eyes connected.
"My God," she said, putting a hand to her mouth. "Constantine was right. You look just like Natasha."
"Are you Louisa?"
"Yes, and you're Maya Ashton, Natasha's granddaughter." Louisa shook her head in bemusement. "You're stirring up embers, just like she used to do. She could never be content with letting things be. She had to mix everything up, cause chaos. It didn't matter how many people got hurt, as long as she got what she wanted."
Clearly, Louisa was not a fan of her grandmother's. "Did you know her well then?"
"I know what she left behind, the people she broke along the way, including your father. Is he in favor of this movie you're making?"
She didn't think her dad's opinion was any of Louisa's business. "He understands that her story needs to be told and the way she died needs to be explained."
Louisa shook her head. "You won't be able to explain it. Others have tried before you, and no one was successful."
"No one was her blood; I am."
"You shouldn't be proud of that. She wasn't a nice person."
"That's your opinion," she said hotly. She was getting tired of people dissing her grandmother.
"A lot of people shared my opinion," Louisa said.
"Not Constantine. He loved her."
"You really have no idea what kind of relationship they had. Constantine was fond of her, yes, but he always knew that she was nothing more than an illusion, a puff of smoke that warms you for a moment and then leaves you cold for years afterward. I believe she killed herself because he didn't want her. He wanted me. Did he tell you that?"
"Did he tell you that?" she countered.
"Yes. He did. We've been married thirty-three years now. He might have loved her for a minute, but he has loved me for a lifetime. You need to understand that Natasha was only loved by people who didn't know her. She had her fans, but they adored the film star, not the woman she was. Revealing her truth will only hurt your family, and they've been hurt enough. I can still remember your poor father's sad face whenever I'd see him waiting for her somewhere. She was the center of the universe and everyone revolved around her. If you think you're going to find some wonderful woman in your grandmother, you're mistaken. If you're smart, you'll drop this."
"Perhaps you should go, Miss Ashton," Sylvia interjected.
"Perhaps I should," she agreed, having had her fill of both of them.
When she got outside, she handed her ticket to the valet, a young man with long, somewhat dirty-looking, brown hair and a nametag that read David. A tingle ran down her spine. This was Sylvia's son, the one who was blackmailing Ryland. He looked nothing like his very put-together mother.
"You're leaving early," David said. "The club gets hot after ten; that's when the old people leave. You should stick around."
"I'll have to do that another time. Could I get my car?"
"Sure thing."
She frowned as he sauntered off. He smelled like weed. It was difficult to believe that Sylvia, who seemed to be such a tight-ass when it came to staff, allowed her son to get high on the job and apparently blackmail people.
When her car arrived, she handed David a five-dollar bill and tried not to recoil when their hands touched. She slid into the car and slammed the door.
As she drove away from the club, she couldn't help thinking that all the men she'd met with tonight had left her feeling unsettled, but each in a different way. David had made her want to take a shower. Constantine had given her a lot to worry about, and Jax had made her crazy with desire.
But maybe she shouldn't be leaving out the women who had also made her uncomfortable: Louisa and Sylvia. Both women saw her as a threat. Louisa wanted to protect her husband, and Sylvia wanted to protect the club.
Her mind rattled around with questions as she drove away. She knew she was using those questions not to think about the information that had both
ered her the most—the idea that her dad had been in his mother's car the night she died.
She had to talk to him. But what would she say? She could hardly ask him if he had something to do with his mother's death. He'd flip out.
Maybe she could just come at him with the idea that someone else had been in the car, had ordered the food. That should be enough to get a reaction. She just hoped she was ready to handle whatever that reaction might be.
On her way to her parents' house, Maya stopped at, ironically, the same fast-food restaurant chain that allegedly would have served her grandmother's last meal, if she'd eaten it. After ordering a burger and fries, she sat in a rather long drive-thru line, hoping it would move quickly.
While she was waiting, she thought about the night of Natasha's death. The food inside the bag had been untouched, leading police to conclude that Natasha had decided not to eat anything before taking her fatal dose of drugs.
Or the food had never been for her grandmother.
That theory screamed at her again, Constantine's words ringing through her head.
But Natasha had gone into the restaurant to pick up the food. She'd been seen on a security camera, and a cashier had remembered serving her. In fact, she'd been shocked that the famous Natasha would be buying burgers. So, Natasha had bought the food and gone back to her car. No one else was seen in her car when she left the restaurant. She'd been found dead six hours later.
Her father's fingerprints had been in the vehicle, but her father had said he'd been in the car a few days earlier when his mother had picked him up after school. He'd sworn to the police that he hadn't seen her that night. His presence at home had been verified by the family housekeeper, Miriam Gregg.
Her father had never been considered a suspect. In fact, there hadn't been any real persons of interest beyond the obvious ex-husbands and ex-lovers, but after interviewing everyone, the police had come up with nothing, no evidence of foul play. And then stories had started coming up about Natasha's drug use. Most of those stories had been tabloid rumors, but eventually the smoke had been enough to drown out whatever true spark of fire had actually been there. The police and the private investigator who had been hired by Wallace Jagger had eventually given up.
But she wasn't going to give up. She believed the overdose story even less now than she did before.
As for her father's part in anything…she wasn't sure. He didn't like fast-food. She couldn't remember a time when he'd gotten a meal to go at any of the burger places in their town.
As the drive-thru line moved, she pulled up to the window and paid for her meal, then took the bag from the server. She drove into a nearby parking spot and turned off the car. Despite the fact that she'd been starving five minutes earlier, now everything tasted wrong. The fries were too salty. The burger seemed tasteless. It wasn't the restaurant's fault. Every bite was tainted with the past.
Setting the bag aside, her thoughts returned to Constantine.
Had he been telling the truth, or had he wanted to point her in her father's direction, so she wouldn't look at him?
Maybe she should talk to her grandfather more about Constantine, and Wallace, too. The three men who had loved Natasha the most certainly made the best suspects. But then there were the women who'd hated her. Had someone killed Natasha out of love or out of hate—or was it both emotions that had been in play?
And how had they done it? Had Natasha shot herself up, or had someone else forced her to do it? Had they somehow sedated her first, so she couldn't struggle against the fatal dose?
She shivered, thinking about that night, about the evil that had come for her grandmother. A chill ran through her as she thought of her grandmother's last moments.
Had she been scared? Sad? Determined? Had she been alone?
She had to find out. She started the car and drove by the garbage can to deposit her trash and then headed to her parents' house.
The lights were on when she arrived. It was only eight. Everyone would still be awake. She used her key to get in, calling out hello as she moved down the hall and into the kitchen/family room at the back of the house.
Her mom was sitting on the couch, her reading glasses sliding down her nose as she stared at her laptop computer.
"Mom?"
Pam Ashton looked up in surprise. "Maya, what are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to Dad."
Her mother frowned and immediately shook her head. "Unless you've come to tell him that you're dropping Natasha's story, I think you should go home. You really upset him last night. He didn't sleep at all. He was tossing and turning for hours."
"I know I upset him, but it's important that I talk to him. Is he upstairs?"
"He's taking a shower. Why can't you just drop this, Maya? Why does your movie have to be about the one person who almost destroyed your dad?"
"She's not just Dad's mother; she's my grandmother. And I'm not the only one who wants the story told. Grandpa asked me to tell it. He doesn't think he has a lot of years left, and he wants the truth."
"He won't remember it even if you do get to the truth. You know that, Maya. He's slipping. It's very sad, but it's the way it is. A year from now…" Her voice trailed away. "How's it really going to matter to him?"
"It matters. If you don't believe me, you should talk to him about it, or Dad should."
"Rex is almost as angry with his father as he is with you." She let out a sigh. "This is not the way I want to be spending my life right now. I'm busy at work, and so is your father. We made sacrifices to give you kids everything you needed, and it's our turn to put our energy and focus into our work."
She couldn't actually remember a time when they hadn't done that, but she didn't think she should say that now. She perched on the edge of a chair across from her mom. "I think Dad is furious because he's afraid of what I'm going to find out."
Her mother stared back at her. "I don't want to discuss this."
There was something in her mother's tone that made Maya nervous. "You know something."
"I don't know anything."
"Just tell me. Maybe it will help me."
"I don't want to help you; I want to stop you."
Maya didn't know what to say. While she and her father had often been at odds, usually she could talk to her mother, but, apparently, not on this subject.
"You can't stop her. Don't waste your breath," her father said, as he entered the family room. He wore comfortable gray sweats and a T-shirt, and while she usually liked this version of him, because the power suit he wore to work always made him more intimidating, tonight his expression of unhappiness was all she could see. He sat down next to her mother, giving her an expectant look. "Well? Why are you here? Since I heard you and your mother arguing, I assume you're not quitting."
"No, I'm not." She licked her lips. She wasn't quite ready to ask him about the night his mom died, so she started with Blake. "I spoke to Blake Cordero."
"Blake Cordero? Why?"
"He grew up next door."
Her father shook his head. "He didn't know anything."
"That's what he said."
"Well, that was the truth."
"He did ask me to tell you he still thinks about the night you made tequila sunrises in the pool house."
Her father paled, his gaze hardening. "He was the one who did that."
"It didn't sound like you."
"Is that it?"
"Not exactly. I also spoke to Constantine Dimitrov tonight. He said there was a bag from a fast-food restaurant in Natasha's car the night she died. The burger and fries appeared to be untouched. But some of the people who knew Natasha said that she never ate that kind of food. She was always watching her weight. It didn't make sense that it was in the car."
"It didn't make sense that she killed herself, either, but that's what happened. I can't believe Constantine Dimitrov would speak to you." Her dad shook his head. "I never liked her with him. He was not a good person."
"Why woul
d you say that?"
"Because he was ruthless and cold to everyone, except to her. I guess she couldn't see him for who he really was. But I never trusted him. I wanted her to leave him, but she said she couldn't." His jaw tightened. "I don't want to talk about this, Maya. You should go. And don't come back until you're ready to drop this."
"I have two more questions. Were you in her car that night? Was it your bag of food?"
His face turned white.
"Maya!" her mother shrieked. "How can you ask your father that?"
"Is that what Constantine told you?" her dad demanded.
"Yes," she said, refusing to back down. "Constantine said Natasha always took you for fast-food when you got together. He said she was worried that you were taking drugs and that she wanted to have a talk with you. He always wondered if you were in the car that night."
Her father got up and walked out of the room.
Her mother jumped to her feet. "I can't believe you accused him of being in that car, Maya."
"He didn't deny it," she said, feeling sick to her stomach.
"Why should he have to? It's nonsense. Are you really going to put your movie career ahead of your father, ahead of this family? I know you think you don't fit in. Is this your way to tear us all down, get back at us in some way?"
"No," she said, astonished by her mom's words. "How could you think that?"
"How could I not? Look what you're doing."
"Why didn't he deny it?"
"Because he's probably shocked you could think he would lie about that night."
"He was fifteen years old. Maybe he got scared. He ran out of the car and didn't know she was going to kill herself. That's why he doesn't want the truth to come out."
"Go home, Maya," her mother said, then left the room.
She blew out a breath, really wishing her father had said something, anything. But his silence felt more damning than words.
Had he been in the car? Or had Constantine sent her down a path to destroy her family? Had he played her? Had she let him?
Maybe she did need to go home and regroup. Think about who she should believe, who she should trust.
As she walked out to the car, she really wished she could talk to Jax about all this. Hopefully, he'd come by after his shift. He would be a good sounding board. Although, she didn't really just want to talk to him. She wanted to feel his arms around her again. Right now, she felt isolated and lonely. And being with Jax would make that terrible cold feeling go away.
Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8) Page 12
