by Jill Sanders
Typing a text back to him through tear-filled eyes, she replied.
-Day sucked. I miss you too. Please come. I need you. Love you.
She waited for his reply. When someone knocked on her door, she ignored it and turned over, laying the phone next to her face so she could see when Reagan texted her back. She woke a few hours later, still tired and confused.
Outside her window it was dark. Her stomach growled loudly, and she realized she’d only had a muffin and half of her Cobb salad to eat all day.
Looking at her phone, she frowned when she noticed Reagan hadn’t replied to her last message.
Pulling off her shoes, she changed into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, then tiptoed down the stairs. She was thankful when the house was dark and quiet.
Pulling out a loaf of bread, she quickly made herself a turkey sandwich, then took an entire bag of Ruffles upstairs with her, along with a root beer from the fridge.
She didn’t know who it belonged to since her parents didn’t drink soda, but she figured since it was there, she’d enjoy it. She wanted something sweet, but the soda would have to do.
Locking her door behind her, she almost screamed with she saw a dark shadow emerge from her window curtain.
“Sorry,” Reagan said in a low voice.
She chuckled and quickly set down her meal and rushed to his side.
When she got closer, she gasped and held in a cry at the sight of blood dripping from his forehead. She noticed a thick smell of smoke on his clothes as she rushed closer to him. Besides the cut above his left eye, he was sporting a black eye and his lip was swollen.
He looked like he’d gotten in a fight. Then she watched him limp towards her.
“I’m okay,” he said reassuringly as he gathered her up in his arms.
Reagan could have just fallen into Clara’s arms and died a happy man. Every part of him hurt. He’d allowed himself to be driven to the local hospital and checked out, where he’d received small bandages for his cuts and some over-the-counter pain pills, which he’d tucked into his pocket and forgotten the moment he stepped out of the hospital.
He’d rented another car, making sure to get the extra insurance again on this one. Then he’d driven up into the hills and climbed the outside stone wall that surrounded her family’s home. From there, it was as easy as walking up a set of outside stairs and crawling over an outside balcony to get to Clara’s window, which she’d left open again tonight.
But when he’d arrived, her bed had been empty. He’d stood there, in the dark, looking at it as if he expected her to reemerge. When the door had opened, he’d relaxed seeing her step in with food. His stomach instantly reminded him that all he’d eaten that day was the granola bar.
Now, he held onto her, his stomach and his desire for food forgotten completely.
When her arms tightened slightly around him, pain shot up his bruised ribs, causing him to groan with pain.
“I’m sorry.” She jumped back from him and rushed over to turn on the lamp by her bed. When she saw him in the light, she gasped even louder. “What happened?” she cried, rushing back over to him and touching his forehead and lip softly.
“Car accident,” he answered as she tugged him towards the bed. He figured it was best to keep the details from her.
“Oh my,” she said under her breath. “Are you hurt?” She ran her eyes over him. “Anything broken?”
“No, just bruised.”
She reached up and touched the small bandage over his cut. “Stitches?”
“No.” He sighed as his hands reached for her again.
“Let me clean you up.” She motioned to the dried blood covering his face.
“I’d kill for a shower and some clean clothes.” He nodded to the bag they had pried from the back of the burned-out car.
“Okay.” She tugged on his hands and he followed her into her bathroom. It had been too dark last night to see her room and, to be honest, he’d only been thinking about being with her and hadn’t noticed anything else. Now, however, he appreciated the simplicity of her taste.
Soft white sheets and comforter covered her bed, and a cream-colored chair sat in the corner of her room. There were a few college posters on her walls, but for the most part, the place was classy.
Her bathroom was bigger than anything he’d seen before. The shower alone was the size of his whole bathroom. It had a long wooden bench, like a sauna. The glass walls enclosing it reached all the way from the floor to the twelve-foot ceiling. There was a jet tub sitting in front of a massive window opposite a wall of cabinets and countertops, which held two sinks.
She nudged him to sit on the countertop while she searched the drawers for a cloth, then opened a large mirror and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
“I’m fine,” he explained, not wanting to feel the sting on any of the many burns and cuts he had covering his arms and face.
He’d made the mistake of holding out his hands, allowing her to see the burns on them.
She gasped again and almost dropped the bottle. “Did you catch on fire?” she said, frowning down at him.
“Almost.” He groaned when he remembered how close it had been. He’d left the hospital with bandages on his hands but tossed them since they kept getting in his way.
She took his hands in hers and frowned down at them. “You need to keep something on these,” she said as a tear fell from her eyes and landed on his sizzled skin.
He gathered her once more in his arms and just held on as she cried for his scorched and bruised skin. He’d never cared so much about someone as he did about Clara.
“Baby, don’t cry,” he begged as he held her.
“You’re… someone did this to you.” She pulled back. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re keeping it from me.” She shook her head. “Don’t. I’m strong enough to know.”
He smiled and wiped the tears gently from her eyes. “You are.” He kissed her softly, since his lip was split and any more pressure would open it again. “I love you. When this is over, I’m going to take you somewhere. Just the two of us. Alone.”
She nodded her head. “Yes, please.” She sighed and held onto him. “First, you need a shower.” She pulled away again, her nose crinkled up at the stench emanating from his clothes.
He couldn’t stop the chuckle, or the desire to pull her into the massive shower with him.
By the time they crawled into her bed, he had revised their plans to expose her sister’s killer.
Chapter 14
Clara woke to a gasp and for one split second, she thought she was back on the floor of her father’s office. Her entire body jerked, then she felt the heavy arm resting over her chest, holding her down to the soft mattress.
Looking around, she glanced at the door where her stepmother stood, a tray of food in her hands as she gaped at them lying naked on her bed.
Her stepmother’s eyes ran over Reagan and for a split second, she saw desire and appreciation in her eyes.
Reaching down, she pulled the sheets over both of them and yelled, “Get out.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed on her as she walked over and set the tray of food down on her desk. “You didn’t have dinner.” She turned and noticed the empty plate and bag of chips Reagan had finished off last night. “Guess you helped yourself after all.” She turned on her heels and strode out of the room, making sure to shut it softly behind her, but not before she called over her shoulder. “I’m sure Carlo will want to talk to you when you’re dressed. Both of you.”
“We did it now.” Clara groaned and covered her face with the sheets.
“No.” Reagan tugged the sheets down. The fact that he was smiling at her had her frowning even more. “I did. While you slept, I… revised the plan.” He shrugged.
“This?” She waved to the door and sat up. “This was your new plan?”
“Well, I had hoped to remember to pull the sheets over us, but yeah.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss her. “It is.” He ju
mped up from the bed, still fully naked as he walked over to the tray of food. After sniffing the orange juice, he downed half of the glass.
Since her eyes were locked on his toned ass, she didn’t argue when he stood there and ate her breakfast.
He filled her in on his new plan while they dressed. When they walked down the stairs, hand in hand, she was more nervous about this plan than the first one. Before, she was the only one exposed. Now Reagan was going to take the heat. But after yesterday, she knew that he was already in too deep to avoid getting burned. She took his charred hands and raised her chin as they stepped into the kitchen where her father was sitting, waiting for them. It was obvious by the look on his face that Rebecca had already filled him in about who she was with.
“I paid you to find my daughter, not to sleep with her.” Her father almost yelled it. His face was red, like it always got when he was angry.
“You did,” Reagan said calmly. “This”—he held up their joined hands— “has nothing to do with the job.”
“The hell it doesn’t. I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and let you sneak into this household when we’re broken. Clara’s in a fragile state right now. The last thing she needs is someone sniffing around because of what’s in her pocketbook.” To her horror, her father pulled out his checkbook. “How much are you wanting?” he asked as he started writing.
For a split second, she feared of a future without Reagan in it.
“There isn’t enough money in the world to make me step away now,” Reagan said softly as he squeezed her hand.
Her father threw the pen down on the table. “Out,” he growled.
“Fine,” she said and turned to go with Reagan.
“Not you,” her father shouted. “We just got you back. You are not leaving here.”
“Then neither is Reagan,” she said calmly.
“Carlo, what does it matter,” her stepmother stepped in, laying a hand on her father’s shoulder as she smiled across the room at them. “If it’s real then it will last. If not…” She shrugged as her eyes ran over Reagan, as if she was remembering what he looked like naked in her bed. “Besides, you’ve already removed her from your will, so it’s not like he’ll inherit anything. And her shares of the business are jointly owned by you, and you’ve locked them up so she can’t get her hands on them.”
Clara froze, her eyes going to her father. This was news to her. Not that she wanted a dime of his, but to be disowned… It only confirmed her belief that her father believed she was guilty of killing Gina.
She would have thought that the news would have more tears flowing from her eyes. Instead, she vibrated with anger. Dropping Reagan’s hand, she moved closer to her father.
“You’ve disowned me?” she asked in an eerily calm tone.
“He has. Shortly before you returned home. We didn’t know what sort of trouble you’d get yourself into and couldn’t afford to be dragged down with you,” Rebecca answered. Clara turned to her, her eyes burning into the other woman’s.
“So, you both think I’m guilty, is that it?” She glared across the glass table at the pair of them. “What I find strange is, instead of standing behind the innocent, you avoid finding Gina’s real killer. It’s like you don’t care who it is, as long as you protect your precious name and business.”
She turned back to Reagan, who was smiling at her with pride in his eyes. He held out his hand for hers, and she took it before glancing back at her parents.
“Don’t worry, we don’t want a thing from you. We’ll find Gina’s murderer without your help. Then you can sleep comfortably at night knowing the real killer is locked up and that you’ve lost your only daughter in the process.”
She tugged on Reagan’s hand and they walked out the front door together.
“I guess it’s a good thing I brought out our bags before we headed down the stairs,” he said, picking up both of their bags from the balcony outside her bedroom before they headed down to his parked car, just outside of the gates.
“Yeah,” she said softly. He’d been trying to lighten the mood, but he knew there was little he could do now.
Her family had chosen. The fact that they hadn’t chosen her would sting for the rest of her life.
The only thing he could do now was to be there for her.
They drove out of the Hollywood Hills towards the hotel he’d gotten but had yet to spend a night at.
“What happens now?” she asked as he drove.
He sighed. “Now comes the hard work. I’ve already reached out to our lawyer.”
“We’re really going to sue my father for my shares of the business?” she asked.
“Yes.” He took her hand as he drove. “If this is about money, if someone killed your sister because of it, then we no longer have a target on us because your father has disowned you. That’s assuming that whoever did this learns quickly what happened. If they do, they would have to be in his inner circle. Regardless, we need there to be a target on you.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” she added, feeling her anger boil even more. “He gave me those shares when I turned eighteen. I’m sure Gina was about to receive hers as well the night…” She closed her eyes and he squeezed her hand.
“Don’t think about it,” he said softly.
“If she was murdered because of them”—she opened her eyes— “does that mean my father was in on it?”
“No.” He frowned. “I really do believe your father thinks you were behind Gina’s death.”
Her shoulders sank. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but she needed to believe her father wasn’t a murderer, just an elitist and an untrusting bastard.
“How do we find out who killed her? I can’t remember anything about that night.”
“By flushing the murderer out. You said that all of your friends were there last night?” he asked.
“Yes.” She groaned, and he could tell she was replaying the horrible night over again.
“Would you say that it was the same group that was at Gina’s graduation party?”
Clara bit her bottom lip as she thought about it. “A few of Gina’s close friends were missing, but yes. For the most part, we had the same group of friends.”
“Okay, so they all know you’re back in town. What we need to do is get you in the spotlight. Think you can stomach a few lunch dates?” he asked her.
This time when she groaned, he knew it was at the annoyance of having to put up with shallow backstabbers.
While he drove, she texted what used to be her closest friend, who happened to be the biggest gossiper of the group.
“Okay.” She set her phone down as they pulled into the hotel parking lot. “Brunch tomorrow morning is all set.” She leaned back in the seat. “You’re staying at the Four Seasons?” she asked with a frown.
He glanced up at the tall building. “I am. It wouldn’t be to our plan’s benefit if you were staying at a Best Western. Even though I normally do when I’m working,” he added with a smile, straining his cracked lip.
He pulled on his sunglasses and carried their bags up to their room.
“We have a full day before I’m supposed to meet Holly,” she said, running her eyes over him. “What do you say to helping me release some of this stress by spending the day in bed with me?” Leaning up, she placed her lips over his, and he felt as if he could do anything as long as she continued to look at him the way she was now.
Chapter 15
There was little Clara could do to keep from yelling at her old best friend, Holly, except for biting her bottom lip. She pasted on a fake smile as the girl walked across the parking lot in silver high-heel Jimmy Choo’s, a slim black-and-white pencil skirt, and a crisp white blouse.
Clara knew that the entire outfit, including the Gucci bag, had been paid for by Holly’s father, Emilio Rhi. The man was a director of some of the best movies to come out of Hollywood over the past two decades.
Growing up, Clara and Holly had almost been one
word on everyone’s lips. The girls had always been together. So, naturally, it had stung after Gina’s murder when Holly hadn’t returned any of her texts or calls. It was as if her best friend had wanted to avoid any contact with her.
She was actually shocked that Holly had been at her parents’ house the other night and had answered her texts.
Holly air-kissed her as if they had last seen one another a few days ago, instead of years ago.
“I was so worried,” she said, running her eyes over the new outfit Clara’s father had purchased for her just yesterday. “You look fabulous.” She wrapped her arm through hers and started walking towards the front doors of the country club’s restaurant. They had spent more time at the place while going through college then they had their own homes.
“Thanks,” Clara said, trying to jump back into how the old her would feel having a brunch date with her best friend. “Are those new?” she asked and nodded to the set of rings on her right hand.
“Daniel bought them for me,” she gushed, glancing down at the rings. “I was shocked,” she said after they had been seated. “Afraid that he was giving me an engagement ring. Thankfully, not.” She showed Clara the three matching rings with pink diamonds. “After all, Daniel and I only met a few months ago.” She giggled. “I’d never marry a man who I didn’t know for more than a year.” She placed her drink order and dismissed the waitress after Clara ordered the same. “What about you?” Holly asked and finally gave her all of her attention. “Have you met someone special? Is that why you stayed away for so long?”
Clara thought about how she’d spent the last five years. About why she’d spent them alone. Instead of opening up to what was supposed to be her best friend, she lied.
“Yes, I’ve met the most wonderful man.” She added a sigh of appreciation into the act. “Reagan Grayton’s family is from Florida. They’re in real estate as well.”
“Oh, how wonderful. I bet your dad and stepmom are happy you’re back.”
