“When I asked you for help with Molly, you told me you had always been the responsible one in your family. Taking care of your brother because your mother couldn’t. How you were determined to make your own way. Just like me.”
“Well, sure. What’s your point?”
“The recipe.”
“What about it?”
“How did you ever think you’d get away with stealing it?”
Tim hit the sidewalk in a dead run, his gaze ping-ponging as he searched the surrounding area for a kid with a backpack. Following him were Joey and Roseanne, but, in those stupid high heels, Ro fell behind. Just as well. Tim could only handle so much crazy.
There. To the right. One of the uniformed cops was in motion, running hard. Tim spotted a flash of red. Backpack. He hauled ass, cutting diagonally across the street with Joey on his heels.
Tim pointed. “There. You see him?”
“Got it. I’ll take the alley, see if we can cut him off on the next block.”
“Go.”
At the corner, Tim crossed again, running in the street alongside the row of parked cars to avoid pedestrians slowing him down. On the opposite side, the cop lost ground on their perp, so Tim stepped it up, his feet flying over pavement. Whichever way this guy turned, they had him. Joey from the left and Tim from the right.
If he went straight…
Deal with it then.
“Hold it,” The cop yelled.
The kid glanced back. Big mistake. That look back just cost him precious seconds. Between the chase and flowing adrenaline, Tim’s heart slammed. The sounds of traffic and car horns faded, and his sharp breaths echoed in his ears.
Slow the breathing down.
He inhaled through his nose and slowly let it out his mouth. Fifty yards ahead, the traffic light flipped to amber. Perfect. In a few seconds, the cross street would have the green and cars—if Tim knew Chicago traffic at all—would roar through that intersection taking out anything in their path.
His subject had limited choices. Run into traffic and get pancaked, or turn.
Twenty-five yards. Come on, dude. Come my way.
A passing driver honked and Tim nudged closer to the line of parked cars. Ten yards.
Come on. Come on.
Decision time.
Dude stopped. Yes. He jerked his head left, where Joey steamed straight toward him, and hooked a right, darting into the street.
That brief hesitation gave Tim an extra few seconds and he pumped his legs as the car that honked at him pulled alongside, aiming to make a right on red.
He smacked a hand against the window. “Wait!”
Damn it. The kid might just beat him to the corner. Unless…
Crap. This was gonna hurt. His football days roared back to him and he slid a gaze to the car, now at a full stop to his left. Thank you. He cleared the front of the car and braced himself.
One, two, three.
He left the ground, his body sailing. The kid whipped his head right and his face contorted, his lips peeling back as he prepared for the tackle.
Whack. Tim slammed into the smaller man, the two of them crashing to the blacktop. A car on the cross street swerved, the driver hitting the horn as Tim and the kid rolled into the middle of the intersection, both landing on their backs.
Of all the ways Tim imagined dying, this wasn’t one of them.
All traffic stopped. A woman somewhere behind them let out a scream.
“Hold it,” the cop yelled.
Apparently, the kid needed a hearing test because he hopped up, ready to run. Tim scrambled to his feet, grabbed the back of the kid’s jacket.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said.
The kid swung an elbow and Tim ducked. So much for good advice. “Now you’re pissing me off.”
Outweighing the kid by at least thirty pounds, he gripped the jacket tighter, hooked the fingers of his free hand into one of the kid’s belt loops, and shoved him to the ground.
“Stay there.”
To ensure cooperation, Tim dropped one knee to the kid’s back.
His breaths came hard and he forced himself to inhale slowly. In and out. In and out.
The cop came to a stop, his hands automatically going to his thighs as Joey joined the party.
“Cuff him,” Tim said.
The cop unhooked his cuffs, and Tim gave the kid a light smack on the shoulder. “I’m gonna get up. Don’t try anything stupid. There’s three of us. All bigger than you.”
The kid’s head bobbed up and down. “I won’t. This is all my sister’s fault. All she said was to pick up the backpack. That’s all.”
“Who’s your sister?”
“Anna.”
“Annalise? Molly’s assistant.”
“Yeah. She said she had the whole thing worked out.”
“Stealing it,” Anna said, her voice filled with enough indignation to start a small war. “Lucie, did you hit your head or something? I just told you I wanted to get it back to Antoine.”
She scooped up her coat and slid it on before zipping the recipe card into the front pocket of her briefcase.
“Great,” Lucie said. “I’ll go with you. We can tell him all about how Molly, his own girlfriend—and let’s not forget, business manager—tried to blackmail him.”
Anna hooked the briefcase over her shoulder and headed to the door. “You’re not coming.”
Still centered in the doorway, Lucie stared up at Anna, a good seven inches taller.
“Move,” Anna said.
Lucie slid to the side, but if it took her jumping on Anna’s back, she’d be tagging along. “Sure. We’ll have to take your car. What with me being kidnapped from the park and all.”
“I repeat, you’re not coming. This is a private meeting between me and my client. You understand.”
“Sister,” Lucie said, “not in this lifetime will I ever understand. So, we will go see your client. Once he is confident I didn’t take his recipe, you can have your private time.”
Anna’s nostrils flared wide. A low growl sounded in her throat.
If she thought this was frustrating, she had a lot to learn about life with Lucie Rizzo and company.
Lucie smiled. “Shall we go?”
Then she did it. Just raised her right arm and—ooff— shoved Lucie. And it wasn’t a light shove either. The force propelled Lucie backward, sent her stumbling as she reached out, finding nothing to grab on to for balance. Dang it. Why did she have to be the one everyone got to literally push around. Anticipating the crash, she stretched her arms behind her and steeled herself. One, two, three—whack! She slammed into the wall, the back of her skull taking a direct hit.
“Ow!”
Pain shot in all directions and the beige walls blurred, everything swaying while Lucie’s stomach pitched.
Anna.
Lucie blinked. Blink-blink, blink-blink. Her vision cleared enough to see Anna turning away, rushing to the back door.
Oh, no you don’t.
If Anna got away, Lucie might never be cleared. Shaking off the dizziness, she exploded into a sprint straight at the leggy blonde.
Lucie latched onto the briefcase, tugging on it as Anna shoved at her.
“Hey,” Anna said, “let go. Are you crazy?”
“Crazy? Please. I’m borderline psychotic right now.”
Anna shoved her again. That’s it. I’m done. Lucie let out a growl—a really mean one.
“Shove me again and you’re cooked.”
Then she spun and jumped, landing on Anna’s back.
“Whoa. Get off me!”
Nope. No can do. Lucie lifted her legs and locked them around Anna’s waist. The woman teetered on her heels and sent the two of them careening into the wall. A burst of air shot from Lucie’s lungs, but she hung on as Anna lined her up for another slam.
“Lucie!”
Joey’s voice. From the front entrance. She swiveled her head, found her brother and Tim with a uniformed cop.
; “Get her off me,” Anna cried.
“Luce,” Tim said, “off!”
How many times had he said that to her in the last six months?
Joey and Tim rushed toward them, each taking a side and blocking the exits.
“She’s nuts,” Anna said. “She attacked me. I’m pressing charges.”
Lucie hopped off Anna just as Dad opened the door. “SWAT is here.”
SWAT? Dear God.
But Lucie didn’t care about all that. All she wanted to hear was that they’d nabbed Beanie Boy. “Did you get him?”
“Yeah. He’s locked in the back of a squad car.” Tim grinned at Anna. “Singing like a bird.”
Finally, they’d know who the heck plotted this blackmail scenario. “Who is he? Tell me he and Anna are partners.”
“Better. He’s her brother.”
Her…what?
Lucie curled her fingers into fists, visualized all her anger flowing into those fists. Oh, she should take a shot. Just one good punch. She narrowed her eyes at Anna. “Your brother. Soooo, evil.”
“Yep,” Tim said. “According to him, Anna saw the safe open. After she and Molly left, they spent a few minutes on the sidewalk talking and parted ways. By then, the fire had broken out. Luce, Anna saw you come out the back and figured the door was still unlocked. She slipped upstairs into Antoine’s office and helped herself to the recipe. She figured the fire was a convenient distraction.”
“And we didn’t even see her.”
Tim shrugged. “Everyone was outside by then.”
Curt the negotiator entered via the back door with Molly in tow. Lucie jabbed her finger at Anna. “The guy with the backpack is her brother. All this time your assistant was behind it. And you accused me!”
Tim set his big hand on Lucie’s shoulder. “Calm down. The brother said it was Anna’s idea. They set Molly up.”
Now Molly whirled on Anna. “What? After everything I’ve done for you? I gave you a fucking career.”
F-bombs. You go, girl.
“You gave me?” Anna scoffed. “Please. I’ve been slave labor for two years.”
“You were in training. What did you expect?”
Anna swung to Lucie, her eyes like two machetes, ready to carve someone to pieces. “I’ve been the grunt. Begging her for more responsibility. All I wanted was a client of my own. I worked and worked, and all she’d give me was menial tasks.”
Lucie held up a finger. “Hey, I take exception to that. She gave you the Coco Barknell contract to handle for Antoine.”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “Did you want me to just hand you a hundred-million dollar contract? You start small and work your way up. Like I did.”
But Anna didn’t want to hear it. She shook her head and turned her fiery eyes back to Molly. “I was ready for more.”
“You’re ready when I say you’re ready. For fuck’s sake, how was framing me going to get you a promotion?”
Yowzer. This woman made Ro look like Shirley Temple.
“You’d be gone,” Tim said.
All eyes went to him and he held up his hands. “She planted the recipe in Molly’s office, then set up the cash drop. My guess is she planned on leaving that two mil somewhere that would implicate you. Does she have access to your business accounts?”
Molly’s face stretched into a mass of disbelief. “She has the account numbers. She’s not a signer.”
Huh. This girl should work for Dad with that scheming, delinquent mind.
“Wow.” Lucie faced Anna. “You thought you could set up Molly then slide right in and take over her clients when she went to jail. Aren’t you something else?”
For a brief second, Lucie stood quietly, absorbing the idea that this girl, clearly lonely and in constant need of approval, plotted against a woman who’d entrusted her with her business.
“All I wanted,” Anna said, “was a little responsibility. Something to take care of. I’m good at taking care of things.”
Lucie let out a long sigh. “Not anymore you’re not.”
Chapter Fifteen
Two days later, Lucie sat in Antoine’s conference room listening as Tim laid out the case against Annalise.
Lucie stared out the window at the blackening winter sky. Nothing about this situation felt right.
At the head of the table, Antoine remained stoic, seemingly embalmed over the fact that someone on his team had tried to swindle him. Any reaction to his manager/girlfriend’s assistant almost ruining him was hidden beneath stony cheeks and a focused gaze. A facade of nothingness. Molly sat across from Lucie, her ever-present leather portfolio in front of her. Did she feel responsible? It was, after all, her employee who’d created this mess.
Proof that it happened to the best of them. Even a woman with a law degree.
“As of this morning,” Tim said, “Anna is facing a slew of charges. Extortion, conspiracy, possibly trademark infringement, the works. Lucie decided to give her a break and not press charges.”
Antoine met her gaze. “After what she—we—put you through, that was kind.”
Recognizing that, Lucie nodded. “She’s a disturbed young woman. I don’t see how another five years in jail will help what ails her. She needs help.”
Antoine ran a hand over his face. “I just don’t get why she did it.”
Tim sat back in his chair, his big shoulders relaxing into the soft leather. Still in his suit, but with the tie gone and the top button on his shirt undone, he looked so darned handsome Lucie’s heart thumped. Her man. Right there with her.
“Her lawyer,” Tim said, “had a psych evaluation done. According to them, she suffers from Rescuer Syndrome.”
“Rescuer Syndrome?”
“It’s when someone feels an overwhelming need to rescue people. In whatever way possible.”
Antoine let out a derisive grunt. “How does blackmail equal rescuing me?”
The two-million-dollar question. And somehow, Lucie thought she knew the answer. Understood on an emotional level most wouldn’t. Sometimes it took a mob boss’s kid to get into the basement of those emotions.
“I had a conversation with her the other day,” Lucie said. “Her father died when she was young. Her mother never recovered emotionally and Anna became responsible for her brother. It sounds as if she did most of the parenting.”
“Which,” Tim said, “is why he went along with her crazy scheme. He’s been beholden to her. All these years. And she played on that to fulfill her own needs. According to the shrink, with Anna, it’s an endless cycle. She needs to feel needed. If she doesn’t, she’s left thinking about her own issues and that sends her into a downward spiral.”
Molly held out a hand. “So, as long as she’s rescuing people, she feels good.”
Now Lucie faced Molly, a woman so used to being in charge she’d forgotten how to listen when the people around her spoke. “Yes. Except she wanted Antoine.”
The chef’s eyes shot wide. “Come again?”
“Not in the physical sense. She wanted you as her client. Someone she could focus on and not have to share with Molly.”
“Well,” Molly said, “that wasn’t happening. She wasn’t nearly ready.”
Tim shrugged. “Guessing she knew that. She’s been trying to come up with a way to get the recipe. For months she’d been planning. She just couldn’t get around the security to the actual recipe. She got lucky when the fire broke out. Then, hoping to keep heat on Lucie, she had her brother break into Lucie’s car and plant a copy of the recipe in her briefcase. That bought her a fallback in case framing Molly didn’t work. And here we are.” He made eye contact with Molly. “By framing you, she thought she’d slide into your chair. She’d assure your clients she could handle their business and she’d take over.”
Antoine leaned in and propped his elbows on the table. “Her plan was to rescue me by saving the day after Molly went down.”
“Pretty much,” Tim said.
“That’s…calculated.” He swiveled to
Molly. “Guess we need to vet your employees better.”
For once, the woman stayed silent. All of this landed squarely in her lap.
Antoine scrubbed his hands over his face and up into his hair. For the first time, Lucie noted the shadows under his eyes. Who knew when he’d slept last.
A gust of wind rattled the windowpane. Lucie glanced over, thankful for the distraction. At this point, she had nothing to say. They’d accused her of horrible things. And tried to sue her.
“Lucie,” Antoine said, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry.” He gestured to Molly. “We both are.”
Finally, Molly nodded. “I am sorry, Lucie. No matter how I looked at it, I always came up with you being the one.”
“I was the obvious one. Still, it wasn’t fun being accused of something like that.”
“Which is why,” Antoine said, “we’d like to make it up to you.”
Now we’re talking. “I hope you’re dropping this lawsuit.”
“Yes. That was a scare tactic.”
Well, it worked. “Thank you.” She slid an envelope from her messenger bag. “This is the copy of the recipe Anna planted in my bag. I haven’t made any copies.”
Antoine held the envelope up. “Thank you. That’s…really generous after what we accused you of.”
“I’m not a crook. I make my own way.”
He set the envelope on the table, staring at it for a few long seconds before he met her gaze again. “We’d like to hire you back. Brie misses her walks with Lauren.”
If she had it in her, Lucie could take a stand here. Be the insulted, humiliated party and tell Antoine to shove his dog-walking gig where the sun don’t shine.
If she had it in her.
The truth was, she couldn’t blame him for assuming she’d been the blackmailer. After talking it over with Tim, dissecting this thing five hundred different ways, she’d have come to the same conclusion.
Means, motive, opportunity.
She’d had all three.
“I’d appreciate that,” Lucie said. “It’s important for us to keep our customers happy.” She smiled. “Even the four-legged ones.”
Antoine waggled his fingers at Molly and she retrieved a folder from the portfolio.
Dog Collar Cuisine Page 19
