by Linda Verji
"Smart man." Katherine squeezed his arm and smiled. "I always knew your hanging around her was just a 'keep your enemies closer' kind of thing. After all what would someone like us want with a gutter rat like her?"
Danny's insides tightened into a ball of anger, and his hand curled into a fist. Were Katherine a man he would've knocked her out right then. But she was not, and he still needed her to talk.
He relaxed his fist, swallowed his anger and gave Katherine the brightest smile he could muster. "You're right. What else would I want with a woman like Misha?"
Katherine responded with a blinding smile that told him he had her complete trust.
He prodded, "So what was the seventy-five thousand Eric wanted from you for?"
"This and that. Nothing to do with me and you," she said evasively. He jerked in shock when she suddenly ran a long fingernail over his thigh. "I've been thinking of you, Daniel."
"Uh… that's good." He captured her hand and forced it back to her lap.
"You make me feel things no man has ever made me feel." She plumped her lips in a pout and clamped her claws over his thigh again.
Okay, he was done. Danny jumped to his feet, almost upending Katherine in the process. She spilled inelegantly onto the settee on her side with a little scream. "Danny."
"Look at the time." He turned his wrist to glance at his watch as he backed toward the door. "I have an urgent meeting."
"Surely, it's not that urgent," Katherine quickly recovered from her spill. Straightening her drooping neckline, she said, "You can stay a couple of minutes more, can't you?"
"I'm afraid not." Eager to get out of there, he reached for the doorknob, but then he remembered Misha's other request. "Actually, I need to have a word with Lauren before I leave."
The older woman's expression immediately hardened at the mention of her daughter. She said, nastily, "Looking to branch out to the rest of the family, Daniel?"
"Nothing like that." Danny lied easily, "Mother has a painting that she'd like Lauren to help her sell."
"Oh." Katherine's expression relaxed. "Then Edya needs to find someone else. Lauren will never be able to sell it. She's a horrible salesperson."
Why was Danny not surprised that the woman was as shitty a mother as she was a wife? Biting on his impulse to defend Lauren, he gritted out, "Mother insists on Lauren."
"Well then, she'll have to wait until Lauren comes back from St. Bart's. She and Sylvia went to help Carla Poole get over Ramon." Katherine rolled her eyes. "That woman has horrible taste in men."
Her words didn't quite hit Danny until he stepped outside the mansion. And when they did, his eyes widened. Hadn't they seen Carla and Sylvia Poole at the hospital two days ago - their trip canceled? Katherine had lied to him.
Almost as if she could sense juicy information, Misha called just as he was walking to his car. The moment he swiped the answer button, she asked, "What did you find out?"
"I'll give you the details when I get home." He clicked on his keys and Arty's driver door lifted.
Misha protested. "I can't wait that long. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please."
"You have major problems." Danny laughed. Propping his arm on the roof of the car, he made short work of detailing what he'd found out.
1. All the seventy-five thousand dollars the Wildes had withdrawn was for Eric.
2. Lauren was missing
"Well, where is she?" Misha asked when he was done briefing her.
"Didn't you hear what I said?" Danny huffed, irritated that Misha hadn't even taken the time to thank him for braving Katherine. He emphasized, "She's missing. As in I don't know where she is."
"Well then find out."
"How?" His voice rose with his frustration. "I can't exactly walk back in there and accuse Katherine of lying."
"Of course not." Misha suggested, "But you can come up with a creative lie. Tell her you left your phone or something…"
"I'm not going back in there," He refused point blank, shivering at the memory of Katherine clinging to him. "You don't know the things I've seen, the things I've done to get that info. I've been traumatized for life."
Misha giggled. "Details. Details."
"You won't survive the details."
Her laughter filled his ears again. "Okay, Mr. Drama. You don't have to talk to Katherine again. But-"
He groaned. "There's a but?"
"See if you can get anything from the servants," Misha suggested. "I know Tony said they wouldn't talk. But they might say something to someone who isn't a cop."
"What am I supposed to talk to them about?"
"I don't know. Lauren, Eric?" She grumbled, "I can't spoon-feed you everything, Hastings."
"Who's Hastings?"
"Wow! You need to pick up a book sometime."
"Keep insulting me," he threatened. "I will get in my car and drive away."
"Okay, sorry. Sorry." She chuckled. "You'll talk to the servants, right?"
He was tempted to tell her that he was done. But truth be told, now that he was in the thick of the investigation, his curiosity had been peaked. Who killed Eric? What did he have on the Wildes? Where was Lauren? And did her disappearance have anything to do with Eric's death?
Unwilling to reveal his interest in the case to Misha lest her proverbial head got even bigger, he added a reluctant note to his voice and said, "Fine. But when I'm done, we'll talk about my payment."
"Payment? Boy, please." She ended the call.
She'd pay all right. Misha had it so easy; probably sitting on the couch sipping on champagne while he was being molested by Katherine. No problem; her time was around the corner.
Danny fit his phone back into his pocket as his gaze wandered around the extensive estate. With any luck, he wouldn't have to go back into the house but would instead find someone out here to talk to.
He narrowed in on the row of the open garages to the west side of the estate where the Wilde's fleet of cars rested. Inside one of the garages, a short, slender, olive-skinned man dressed in black slacks and a blue shirt was wiping down a black Mercedes. Danny's scrutiny must've pricked the man's sixth sense because he looked Danny's way.
Danny smiled and waved at him. Target sighted. Now, a way to approach him without raising his suspicions…
Danny racked his brains for a few seconds before he realized that there was only one solution to his dilemma. Cursing Misha under his breath, he reached into his dashboard, took out a screw driver, exited the car, hunkered down and let the air out of the front driver-side tire.
It took a while for the tire to deflate. In the meantime, Danny pretended to be inspecting it. When the tire was good and down, he released what he hoped was a convincing groan, kicked the sacrificial tire, then shaking his head, strode towards the man washing the Mercedes.
The man must've been watching everything because the moment Danny drew closer, he asked, "Trouble with the car?"
"Yeah. Flat." Danny released a frustrated breath. "And I don't have my jack. I'm hoping you have one?"
"No worries." The toothpick in the man's mouth waggled, as he offered, "I have one in the trunk."
"Thank you." Danny followed him to the back of the car. "I'm Daniel."
"Giovanni." His breath hitched and the toothpick almost fell from his mouth as he hauled the jack from the trunk along with a wrench. "But everyone calls me Gio." When Danny reached for the jack, Gio shook his head. "I'll put it in for you."
"I can fix it," Danny protested. "I don't want to take you away from your job."
His plan was to delay leaving the man's side so he could question him, not give him extra work. But Gio's stride towards Danny's car was as determined as the shake of his head. "Madam would skin me alive if I let one of her guests change their own tire."
"Well, then at least let me help," Danny said as they reached the car.
"Sure. Get the spare," Gio ordered as he headed for the flattened tire. He whistled when he saw it. "Really down, isn't it? You sure someone
didn't let it out when you were in there?" He motioned toward the house.
"I don't think so," Danny lied easily as he heaved the spare from his trunk. He totted it to the front of the car where Gio was looking at the damaged tire while picking at his teeth with his toothpick. Danny said, "I guess it's not my lucky day. As if not getting to see Lauren wasn't enough, I have to deal with a flat tire."
"Sorry for wasting your time, buddy," Gio commiserated as he lowered himself to one knee. Thrusting his toothpick into his pocket, he grabbed the wrench and attached it to one lug nut. "I guess no one told you she left two weeks ago."
"Two weeks ago?" Danny didn't need to fake the surprise in his voice. "Really? But I spoke to her at that party they had for Bradley."
"Yeah, she left the next morning," Gio revealed, his counterclockwise turns of the wrench loosened the lug nuts one by one. "Seemed in quite a hurry too, if you ask me. Not that I'm surprised."
"Why?"
"Why what?" Gio asked. But before Danny could answer, he said, "Hand me the jack."
Handing it to him, Danny asked, "Why aren't you surprised that she left in a hurry? Did something happen?"
His questions seemed to have pricked an alarm in Gio because the shorter man paused in his actions and looked up to meet Danny's eyes. Gio's gaze was assessing as he asked, "You seem mighty interested in Miss Lauren's activities."
"I'm worried because I can't find her and she's not taking my calls," Danny defended. When the other man still looked unconvinced, Danny added, "She's my fiancée."
It was obviously the wrong thing to say because Gio's eyes narrowed in obvious disbelief. The disbelief was quickly followed by wariness. His tone was extremely formal when he said, "Look, sir, you're nice and all. But I got a family to feed and I can't afford to lose this job because of loose lips." He placed the jack under the car. "If you've got questions about Miss Lauren's whereabouts you'll have to ask her mother."
Crap! Danny couldn't afford to have the man mum up on him. So he rushed in with a change of tack, "Do you like working here?"
Danny was ninety percent sure of the answer. The Wildes weren't exactly known for their compassion. Gio was silent for a quite a while, his focus seemingly on jacking up the car. It was only when he had the car a few inches off the ground that he responded, "It could be better."
"What if you could get another job?"
Gio's gaze snapped upwards. "You offering?"
"Let me introduce myself properly." Daniel extracted a business card from his jacket pocket and held it out to Gio. "Daniel Landa-Hollis. Of the New York Landa-Hollises."
Gio gingerly took the card, turning it to read the embossed print that identified Danny as the CEO of Creative Urban.
"You talk to me, and you'll never have to deal with any of them again." Danny gestured toward the house. "Or worry about losing your job."
Gio looked at the card again then asked, "How do I know that you won't forget about me as soon as you drive out of here?"
"I won't," Danny said simply, hoping that his assurance would be enough for the man.
Apparently it was, because after another few moments of scrutinizing Danny Gio nodded sharply. "What do you want to know?"
"Why was Lauren in a hurry to get out of here?"
"Because of Eric's murder." Gio removed the lug nuts one by one, placing them in a pile next to him before yanking the tire from the wheel base. "After the way those two were sneaking around behind her parent's back, I'm not surprised she needed some space to mourn."
Danny's eyes widened. "She and Eric were having a relationship?"
"Hot and heavy since the day he was hired," Gio confirmed. "That's how I knew you were lying about being her fiancé. The boy's room was right next to mine, and I caught her sneaking in a couple of times. Should've heard the sounds coming out of that room. Made me blush and I've been married twenty-three years."
Who'd have thought it? Wallflower Lauren and Pretty boy Eric were sleeping together? But the more important question was, "Are you sure her parents didn't know?"
"No way they knew." Gio guffawed as he shoved the spare into the revealed lug posts. "They're fussy about the help not mixing with the family. If they knew about them that boy would've been out of here faster than a cat on fire."
Or maybe they did, but whatever Eric had on them was so big they couldn't risk firing him. No, probably not. Katherine had said that she didn't know Eric was their blackmailer until they'd paid him off. Did Lauren know that Eric was blackmailing her parents? Was she part of it? Or had she killed Eric to cover for her family then skipped the country to evade capture?
The questions were spinning so fast in Danny's head that he didn't notice that Gio had put in the spare until the shorter man announced, "I'm done."
"Oh, thanks," Danny said distractedly.
Gio lifted to his feet, the flat tire in his hand. "So when do I start my new job?"
New job? Danny gave himself a mental slap when he remembered his promise to the other man. Picking a pen from the inside of his coat, he said, "Give me the card." When Gio gave him back his business card, he noted down his executive assistant's name and number on it. "This is my EA. Come to our offices on Monday, when you get there give her this as proof that we met. She'll let you into my office then we can talk about your new position."
"Thanks." Gio reached for the card, but Danny held it back as he remembered something else.
"One more question," he asked, "I noticed that Richard wasn't around on the night of Bradley's party. Do you have any idea where he was?"
"No." Gio shook his head. "All I know is that a car picked him up a few hours before the party started and he didn't come back until the next morning."
Misha was right, Danny admitted as he drove out of the Wilde estate, his coming here had been just what they needed to break the case. Not that he'd ever tell her that. If he was a nicer man, he would've gone straight home and shared what he knew. A nicer man would've picked one of her numerous calls during the course of the day, or answered the multitude of texts she sent him.
But he wasn't feeling nice.
Not at all.
In fact he wanted to torture her. Make her so eager for the information, she'd do anything to get it. He smiled.
CHAPTER 17
Misha knew Danny was punishing her for sending him into Katherine's lair by not picking her calls or answering her texts. She tried not to let him get to her - and failed miserably. She was not built for patience. On edge, she constantly checked the clock, waiting for it to strike six. When it finally did, she settled in the living room waiting for him to get home.
Actually 'settled' was a loose term for what she was doing. She alternated between pacing the length of the room, throwing longing glances at the front door, bouncing on the couch, swinging her feet then standing again, to repeat the cycle. The moment she heard his keys turning in the lock, she was on her feet and striding toward the front door.
Danny was barely in the house, before she was berating him, "Don't pretend you didn't see my calls."
He met her anger with an amused look as he shrugged out of his jacket. "Good evening to you too, Michelle. How was your day? Mine was great. Thank you for asking."
Ugh! This man. Propping her fist on her hip, she asked, "Why weren't you picking up your phone?"
"I like your dress," he complimented, his eyes twinkling with restrained laughter as he gave her green, knee-length jersey dress a once-over. "You should wear dresses more often."
"Forget that," she dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. "What did you find out from the servants?"
"I'm so tired. My afternoon was full of meetings," the dastardly man skirted her question as he yanked on his tie's knot. He took a step forward as if planning to sidestep her.
Misha blocked his path. "Stop playing with me, Daniel."
"Or what?" he dared her with an eyebrow raise as he loosened his tie and pulled it from his collar. Misha racked her brain for a suitable t
hreat but came up with none. Danny's lips kicked up in a smile as he slung his tie over Misha's shoulder. "That's what I thought."
Her mouth opened. Closed. Did he know how long she'd been waiting for him? How she'd ruined her manicure because of the nail-biting wait? Was he serious? Stuck between anger and shock, she barely resisted when he brushed past her and headed straight for his room. However, a minute later, her anger took over. Her temper leading the way, she tossed his tie to the floor and stalked after him.
She didn't bother knocking. Shoving the door open, she stepped into the room to find him practically naked. Fine, naked was an exaggeration. His blue shirt was unbuttoned, and he was wearing a white wife-beater underneath, so no naughty bits were out to play. But still, couldn't he postpone his little striptease until he'd given her her information? She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.
"Yes, Misha," he said casually as he shrugged out of his shirt. A heartbeat later, his wife-beater went flying over his head. "Can I help you?"
Yes. Yes, you can. Keep your shirt off. Misha swallowed hard as her gaze riveted on the broad expanse of his bare chest, on the sinewed torso sculpted by many hours in the pool. Sleek, golden, beautifully male. Lord, this man would be the death of her. A giddy, fluttering feeling started in her stomach.
"Misha," Danny drew her out of her entranced state. He repeated, "Can I help you?"
…then unsnapped his pants.
Misha didn't realize she'd turned and left the room, until she was standing in the hallway with her palms pressed to her suddenly over-heated cheeks. Talk about temptation. Just that brief glimpse of his body had her all hot, bothered and wondering what she'd see if she walked back into his room. No doubt, the rest of him would be as wondrous to behold. Muscular thighs, long…
Stop it! She struggled to reel in her overactive imagination. Temptation by Danny was the last thing she needed. She had too much going on. Like what? The devil on her shoulder taunted ready to tease her with more images of a naked Danny. Like… like… like this investigation.
Yes, this investigation. What he'd learnt. That's what she needed to concentrate on, not on how amazing he looked without a shirt. But first she needed to cool her inflamed senses. She scrambled to the kitchen, poured out a glass of icy water and gulped down a good mouthful. Sure, it eased the dryness in her throat and cooled her flushed nerves, but it did nothing to quench her real thirst. What she was really thirsty for was…
