by Nana Malone
D.I. Jones shook her head. "No. This one didn't get off quite so lucky. She's permanently disabled. She was hit by a car. She can't speak, and she's on a ventilator. Her family refuses to pull the plug. They're convinced their daughter's going to wake up."
I swallowed hard. "What would you have done if I'd never come back? Who would you be questioning then?"
"The thing is you did come back. So I just wanted to, you know, dot my I's and cross my T's, see if you remember anything from that time about him that could be helpful."
"That was five years ago. As it turned out, I didn't know him well at all. Do you know why I think he selected mainly jewelry shops? He said he liked to pretend for one day that he could afford to buy those kinds of things for real. It was his fantasy. We didn't have very much money."
"But that's not true, is it, Miss Beaumont? You came from money."
"As my father likes to say, that's his money. He gave me a small allowance and expected me to work when I got home. Yeah, so my dad might have had senators for friends, but none of that extravagance extended to me."
"That's interesting. So you're just back in London. Why?"
"I got a job."
"Yes, at the London Lords Hotel, correct?"
"Well, obviously you are well-informed. Since the case was dropped against me. I wasn’t barred from reentering the UK."
"Oh no, of course not. I did find your name change interesting though. Trying to shake off your past?"
"I just had a... Well, if you must know, it's a long story. We'll leave it at that." I wasn’t telling her. She didn’t deserve to know. And I didn't need police on this side of the pond telling me I was losing it too.
"Okay, but if you should have a hankering to talk to anyone from, you know, the past, I'd love to hear about it."
"I won't be speaking to Max again."
"Right. Have you seen Max's brother, Ollie? I mean, seeing as you owe your freedom to him, I wondered if you were in touch."
What the fuck does she mean by that? I furrowed my brow. "What?"
"Oliver Wexler. Are you in touch with him?"
And then I remembered what Ollie had said. He didn't know me. He didn't want to know me. "If you want to speak to Oliver Wexler, I'm pretty sure you know where to find him.
She smirked then. "I do, Miss Beaumont."
"Are we done here?"
"Sure. I just wanted to tell you that with Max Wexler becoming more active again, if you do see him, you should tell me first, okay? That's not something I need to explain to you, is it? You may say that he's not dangerous, but I've got one dead girl and another in the hospital. So you'll forgive me if I don't exactly believe in his altruistic nature."
"Oh, I never said he was altruistic. He's a narcissist, a hundred percent. All I said was that he never hurt me. What happened to these girls, I don't know. I had nothing to do with it."
"All right, and you will call me if you hear from him?"
"I don't know what it is that you think you're going to get, but I meant nothing to Max Wexler."
"What about Ollie Wexler? You mean something to him?"
I shook my head. "No, I most certainly don't."
"That's odd. That is not the impression I got. But you have a good day, Miss Beaumont."
Then she pushed away from the table and walked out, her short stocky body moving with purpose as she made her own path through the crowded café.
I wasn't able to breathe a sigh of relief until she'd walked out. Why the hell did she think Max would even know I was in London, and if he did, why would he be interested? I didn't have anything to do with why he went to jail.
But the real question was why she thought Ollie had helped me in some way.
There was only one way to find out, and that was by asking him. But getting a straight answer out of Ollie was like getting a straight answer out of the Sphinx.
Ollie
"I'm asking you for this favor, you can't ask any questions, you have to keep it to yourself, and you can't let it blow back on me."
Ginger Manning lifted a brow as she watched me. "You're kidding, Ollie."
I shook my head. "No. I wish I was. This is important, okay?"
She laughed. "Ollie, you can't just turn up here after, what's it been, several years now? And ask me for a favor."
"Actually, I can. Haven't I saved your arse before? Three times. Once you almost got pinched."
It was true. Ginger owed me and she knew it. Except, I'd been the one to walk away from this life years ago and now that I was in a pickle, I was back asking for favors.
"Aren't you fancy now? Can't you get a PI or whatever to look into her?"
"I could, but PIs have laws they need to follow. You can hack anything anywhere and tell me what I need to know."
"You know what, if I do this, we're done. No more turning up for favors."
"I asked you for one favor. And hell, that was for Tessa."
She shrugged. "We're done. I don't need any more blasts from the past. Haven't you heard? I'm going straight."
I had heard. I did know she was trying to go straight. I also knew she'd gotten herself a cushy little job at a startup tech firm. But every now and again, she couldn't help going back to her roots. Not that I needed her to blow up her spot. Something was going on with Rian. I just wanted to know what it was. "Remember, no blow back."
She rolled her eyes. "As if I'm not clean. Who am I looking for?"
"A woman. Her name is Rian Cooke. She's changed her name to Rian Beaumont now. She used to date Max."
Ginger's eyes went wide, and she rolled her chair back from the computer. "Oh, no. Mm-mm. Not touching it."
"You owe me. I won't darken your doorway again."
"You and your brother just can't let shit go. God, the two of you. If only you could have agreed on anything, been on the same side for anything. What you could have accomplished. But oh no, you guys have to have your little private war going on. I don't want to be involved."
"No one's asking you to get involved. I'm not asking you to research anything about Max. I know what he put you through. I am merely asking you to look into Rian Cooke, find out what she's been up to for the last five years. Anything you can find. It doesn't even have to be comprehensive. I just don't like being blindsided."
"You owe me."
I nodded with a half-smile, knowing I’d won. "Yeah, I know."
"E or no E on the end of her name?" She asked.
"E."
Her fingers flew over the keyboard and she started poking them around some databases that she probably should not have been poking around. I leaned back against the wall. I didn't need everything. I only needed a little. If there was anything that needed extra digging, Ginger would tell me. And then I'd make the decision on whether I would keep going or not.
What was the worst that could happen?
Famous last words.
Ginger sat forward. "I mean, honestly, there's not much here. She has very little social media. What she does have is either highly curated, or she doesn't run it. Usually, she starts posting a little bit before her father has an election around, and then she posts for about three months right after and then goes silent.”
“What else?”
She slanted me a pursed-lip look that said let me work. “Let's see, arrested under suspicion of burglary when she was here. I can't get into the file except for the arrest record. Says she was a minor. I know that she was not charged in the end and went back to America. You could tell that from her passport information."
"I know all that. What happened after?"
"Touchy, touchy. I don't tell you how to work, so don't come tell me how to work."
"Sorry." I was impatient. And I need to figure this out.
"Or maybe, just let the girl live. She's done nothing to you. She's minding her own business."
I didn’t believe that for a minute. If she wasn't going to go on her own, I was going to find a reason to make her go. Besides, she'd be much happ
ier on her own. Back in America. Far away from me.
Ginger leaned forward. "Okay, this is interesting. About a year after she went back to the States, she had some kind of problem with a stalker. She reported it three different times. But the investigation, from what I can see, shows no arrests made. She graduated from high school. But oh, what's interesting here is there’s a year where there is a span of empty time. It's blank."
I frowned. "What do you mean, blank?"
"Just what I said, blank. Nothing. Even though her father had an election, there is no social media, no nothing. It's like this girl vanished off the face of the earth. I can't even find school records for her for that one year."
I frowned at that. "No files, no records, no nothing?"
"No. And P.S., what I'm doing is already illegal, and for part of that time she was a minor. So for one solid year, she is silent, unavailable. Then out of nowhere, there’s a registration for her at Georgetown University. And then she attended Georgetown and graduated in three years. Smart cookie. After graduation she got an internship at a London Lords Hotel in New York. A year after that internship , she shows up here. That's all I’ve got."
I frowned at her. "No boyfriends, no nothing?"
Ginger frowned. "Let's see. At Georgetown, she dated some guy, Matthew Peck, for six months. Another guy called Christian Laverne for a year. But nothing serious. They broke up when he graduated and then nothing."
"There has to be something else."
She shrugged. "Look, that's all I can do right now. Someone has locked that year up tight. I'm getting very big do not cross this line vibes. I mean, I can, but it's going to take time. I'll call you later with more?"
I nodded. "Yeah, call me."
What was she doing for a solid year that we couldn't access? Maybe that missing time would give me something I could use.
Seven
Rian
Our war of attrition started with coffee.
In that morning's meeting, Olivia announced that our meeting with Alan Kensington had been scheduled for later that day and it was Ollie's turn to pick up the coffee order.
He cocked his head as if he expected me to get the order. That, combined with the fact that he was sitting so close our legs could touch with the slightest shift, had me wondering if a pen would make a good stabbing weapon. File that under things Jason Bourne taught me.
I’d done the coffee order the last four meetings in a row. Besides, all he had to do was call down to the admin pool and get it organized. How was that so hard?
I had the slight sense that Olivia might've known that. Because she narrowed her gaze at him. "Ollie, please don't try and get fancy with the order. Just get the basics."
He grinned. "Yes, of course, Olivia. But I do know you like that fancy French roast."
"It's fine. You don't have to do that. Remember, this is just a client meeting, not a big deal."
He smiled. "Oh, of course. Rian, do you have a preference?"
I glanced between him and Olivia, waiting for someone to shed some light on what was going on.
Olivia sat back and rolled her eyes. "Whenever Ollie does it, he tries to go really fancy, getting some Brazilian roast that has to be shipped in overnight from some obscure carrier in Rio or something. Usually no one ever drinks the coffee, and most of it goes to waste. You can get basic coffee, you know, Starbucks or something."
He scoffed. "Oh please. You recognize that East and Bridge have already gotten to me. Cured me of Starbucks."
I furrowed my brow. "What's wrong with Starbucks?"
He didn't look at me. "It's swill." I wasn’t sure if a look of derision would have been better.
I’d be damned if I was going to be the prima donna who wanted the fancy stuff. "Right, okay then. I don't really need coffee."
Olivia gave me a warm smile. "No, it's his turn to be bossed around. Make your order as fancy as possible."
I coughed back a laugh. "A chance to run Ollie ragged?” I clapped in mock glee. “I have been waiting for this moment for all of my life."
Ollie rolled his eyes. "What will it be, Rian, something sweet and frothy?"
Jackass. I shook my head. "No, I'll keep it simple. Just black coffee with sugar."
He lifted a brow and shifted in his seat, brushing my leg with his. "Wow, nothing's changed."
That small contact made my brain short out. Not that I read anything into that other than he liked to annoy me. "Nope. Nothing's changed."
Olivia frowned then. "What do you mean by that?"
Oh shit. But Ollie took her question in stride like he was used to lying by omission. He shook his head. "I just made fun of her coffee order on day one. I thought she would have expanded her horizons a little."
Olivia's gaze bounced back and forth between us. I dropped my eyes when I saw she was studying Ollie closely. I pinned my eyes to my laptop and did not bring them up until I was spoken to. "Okay, think you can handle that, Ollie?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I got it. And obviously, I'm sorry that Rian got stuck doing it too many times. You know, I just had some business for Bridge and Ben, couldn't help it."
She lifted a brow. "Uh-huh, just make sure that we're keeping things even. While Rian is learning, she's not your personal assistant, all right?"
Ollie clamped his jaw shut, and I reveled in the way the muscle in his jaw ticked.
When time for the meeting rolled around, I was surprised when he handed me my coffee and it was exactly how I liked it. No cream, lots of sugar. But the joke was on me because thirty minutes into the meeting, I was shaking. I was sensitive to caffeine. I knew it. Moreover, Ollie knew it. Max used to like to show how sophisticated he was when I'd come and hang out, and he'd go and get me coffee from the fancy Italian place down the street. I always complained that I couldn't take all the caffeine. Max used to make fun of me, and Ollie had seen my reaction. He remembered. What the hell had he put in my coffee?
After the meeting I charged after him. "You did that on purpose."
"I don't know what you're on about."
"You know, Ollie."
"No, honestly I don't, is there a problem, Rian?" His fingers reached out and traced along a wave in my thick hair.
"What did you do to my coffee?"
"I didn't do anything to you or your coffee. Although don't you wish I would?"
My hands balled into fists, and I had to greatly resist the urge to hit him. Not that I'd do much damage, but God, how satisfying it would be.
"You have got to be kidding me. What did you do?"
"It's not my fault you like espresso. It's bound to make you jittery."
"You really mean to tell me you don't remember? You know I can't drink espresso."
He stopped and turned to face me, eyes wide with shock. "What? Was I supposed to remember that? Remember, I don't know you. So how would I know that?"
"Are you fucking with me?"
I kept my voice tight and hushed. Anyone walking by would think we were having perhaps a tense conversation, but they wouldn't be able to hear us. With every whisper we got quieter, but the words were harsher. "You did this on purpose."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about. But in the meantime, Kensington thought I did a fantastic job on the pitch for the theme, right? I mean, honestly it was great, wasn't it?"
I stared at him. "You sabotaged me on purpose."
His fingers rubbed over the silken wayward lock of hair once more. "Good luck proving it."
And I could only watch in fury as he sauntered away, trouser pants hugging his ass tight. I wanted to kill him.
No, I wanted vengeance. Killing would be too fast. Besides, he wanted to see me lose my temper. Wanted to see me lose control. Well, it wasn't going to happen. He wasn't in charge here. I was. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. I was in control of my life. Me. No one else. He would not get the better of me. And I certainly wasn't running. He was going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me.
Rian
It wasn't until later that evening when I finally started to come down from the coffee infusion.
God, I was going to kill him. I hated him so much.
I had ordered take-away and left Miriam a note to come find me when she got home. I was left with too much time to think things through. Ollie wasn’t going to let up. We didn't like each other, true, but for the most part, I hadn't fucked with him yet.
The operative word here is yet.
I didn't want to stoop to his level.
Who are you kidding? You want to make him pay.
I did. But tonight wasn't about that. I'd been putting this off for too long, knowing full well I needed to make the call.
I pulled up my contacts, and the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention as I dialed. When my aunt's soft voice came over the line, I had to clear my throat and find a way around the frog that had lodged itself in there. "Aunt Hannah?"
There was a beat of silence. "Rian?"
"Yes, it's me, Rian. I am so happy to talk to you."
My aunt was silent for a beat. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to let you know I was in London, and I thought maybe we could see each other?"
The long, long, pregnant pause that followed had my palms sweating. There'd been a time when Aunt Hannah and I were thick as thieves. She'd been so excited to have me come and stay with her. We'd gone shopping and exploring and done all the things that you should do in London. We'd had a full food-travel tour where she'd taken me to all her favorite places to eat from around the world, and the rule was we couldn't repeat one. It was everything that I could have wanted. Finally, she said, "Rian, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I just... I'm sorry, Aunt Hannah. I thought maybe we could just have a coffee or something. I want to talk to you and explain. I know there are things that you believe, things you think I did. But I just want you to know that I am—"
"Rian, enough. I just... Sweetheart, I can't. I can't see you."
"Look, I know what my dad said. And I know what you think, and I know you're horribly disappointed, I do. I just... That wasn't me. I didn't do those things and I—"
