Authors: Candice Poarch
Deadly Intentions (4 page)
Was this the man the psychic had referred to? Not hardly. Maybe she could help Brian. In the absence of family he needed someone. He was going to be laid up for the next month healing from his injuries.
I see a man. A tall man. Very soon, he'll play a significant role in your life. You can trust him. He's different from the other men in your acquaintance. He's never met anyone like you. Both of you will be moved by your experience together,
Magdelena had said.
Magdelena had said.
Lisa was a fool to even consider that crazy woman's ramblings. Maybe she would help him, but he would never be the man in her life.
Lisa took Brian's room key and went across the street for food. When she returned, he was coming out of the bathroom.
“Lunch,” she said, setting the bag on the table.
With a grateful look, he eased himself into the chair and dug in.
“Don't you have to take some medicine?” she asked.
“Later.”
“But . . .”
“I need a clear head.”
“Listen, I don't want you to get infected and end up in the hospital on my watch. Give me those meds. Let me see what you need to take.”
She read the humor in those expressionless eyes and realized they weren't so mysterious after all.
“Are you one of those nagging women?” he asked.
“Probably.”
He nodded toward the luggage rack. “They're in my bag.”
5
An hour away in Williamsburg, Nicholas Doyle felt his life was as perfect as it could get. He owned a beautiful spacious home. His brother Corey lived in a smaller house on the property. Nicholas had money to spare. And he had a suitable wife. Who could ask for more?
He glanced up from his papers to look outside and relish the few minutes he had to himself. His secretary was due any moment.
Huge multipaned windows took up most of one wall. He loved his home, but most of all he loved his office, which was on his enormous estate just a short stroll from the house.
Tall evergreens between the house and office afforded him some privacy. He gazed at them now, thinking to give the gardener instructions to add some colorful flowers for the summer. He saw movement, then cursed.
His wife, Deana, was headed to his sanctuary. He plastered a smile on his face and anticipated the insipid reason she would give him to breach his lair. No matter what, there were always small sacrifices, he thought.
“Good morning, dear,” he said, standing to greet her. She wore black slacks with a tasteful blue silk blouse. Her skin was soft and flawless.
“Oh, Nicholas. I wanted to check with you to make sure you're available for the polo match Saturday afternoon.”
He clicked an icon on his computer screen and his calendar appeared. “It's on my schedule.”
“Oh, good. As you're the largest benefactor for the charity event, they want to make sure you make an appearance. Many people want to properly thank you, darling. Especially me.” She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her slim body and pulled her tightly against him, giving himself up to losing a few minutes to indulge her. “Thank you, darling,” she said after their lips parted.
“You're welcome.” He tapped her on the end of her cute little button nose. “But you didn't have to make the trip out here. You could have called my secretary. Lana has my schedule.”
Her eyes hardened as much as someone's as sweet as hers could.
She was perfect for him, he thought. Smooth, aristocratic features. Belonged to the proper organizations. Their marriage made it easier for him to fit in with the elite, mostly old-money crowd. And she didn't ask a lot of annoying questions. After all, she was glad to rope a man with money. Her parents' old money had run out years ago. They'd been living on fumes before he came along. Of course he owned her parents' house now. But he let them live there as if it were their own. He didn't want it. Their estate was less than half the size of his.
As the old saying went, “new rich was better than no rich.”
“I missed you at breakfast,” Deana said. “You left early this morning. Do you thinkâ” she started hopefully.
“I'll see you at dinner,” he interrupted before she could ask to have lunch with him. “I'm expecting an important phone call.” He flashed her a smile as hers faltered. But he glanced pointedly at his watch.
“I'll see you at dinner, then,” she said.
Unfortunately at that moment, his secretary entered. “Traffic was a bitch. Nicholas, I'm so sorry I'm late.... Oh, hello, Deana.”
His wife ignored her, the longing expression replaced with pique. She gave him a last baleful glance before she left.
Nicholas returned to his seat behind his desk. He regarded Lana's tight short red skirt with matching jacket, and equally tight white blouse. She tugged off her jacket and dropped it on his desk. Rounding the other side, she sat on the edge, right in front of him.
In typical Lana style, she leaned forward to give him an up-close-and-personal view of her breastsâthe ones he'd paid for. The deep V of her blouse left nothing to the imagination. He'd never marry a woman like her.
“I don't know how you do it. She still doesn't suspect us,” Lana said, and gave him a hot goodmorning kiss. When she came up for air her arms, still linked around his neck, slid down his arms, pausing to feel the muscles beneath. “You know I can dedicate every day and every night of my life to you.”
“You forgot one important detail,” Nicholas informed her pointedly.
“What's that?”
“I'm married.”
She ran a delicate hand over his chest. Nick sucked in a breath. She was a passable enough secretary, but Nick kept her around because she gave him the delights his wife wouldn't dream of performing.
She ran her tongue over her lips. “I bet if she found out about us, she'd leave in a heartbeat and you'd be free.”
“I bet I'd convince her to stay.”
“Little miss society lady would never stay if she knew we were making out like hot teens practically every day.”
“We're much better than that, my dear. And you're right. She'd never tolerate your working here under those conditions. And as much as I value your immense and varied talents, I'd have to let you go.” Heck, women like Lana were a dime a dozen. Did she really think he'd leave his wife for a bought-and-paid-for whore?
“Get my brother on the phone and then call my wife. Tell her I was able to rearrange my schedule. I'll see her at noon for lunch.” He dismissed her and focused on his work. After a brief pause, her heels clicked across the room. He wasn't about to let his secretary entertain the notion that he thought more of her than he did his wifeâno matter how much she flaunted her assets or how great she was in and out of bed. Sometimes he had to put Lana in her place.
“Don't forget to keep your birthday open, Nicholas. Sweet little Deana is planning a big to-do for your fiftieth.” She stopped at his door, spun around on her heels, displaying her sexy legs. “You're getting old, big guy.”
Nicholas laughed out loud. “And I have the gray hair to show for it,” he countered. “Don't forget to add my birthday celebration to my calendar.”
“Nicholas, what would you do without me?”
“Let's hope I'll never find out. Did you reach my brother?”
“He's doing something down in his basement and at some critical point working on a woman's dog. The dog is already dead. Beats me how it could be critical. He's not a vet for heaven's sake. Anyway, he will call you back.” She shuddered. “He gives me the creeps.”
Deana was equally afraid of Greg. Nicholas smiled. Greg was a taxidermist. Deana wished he'd move across the country to Californiaâas far as he could away from the East Coast. She had no reason to fear him. The deeds Nicholas was forced to do to survive never touched Greg. Greg was given everything any rich boy could desire. Nicholas made sure of that.
Greg grew up much like Deana with the proverbial silver spoon. By the time Greg was four Nicholas had purchased a nice condo and had hired a full-time nanny to look after him. Back then, Nicholas was away a lot on his various jobs.
They lived in an upscale area filled with soccer moms and doting fathers climbing the career ladder. And in a sense Nicholas was doing the same thing. His career might not have been legal, but it was a career nevertheless.
When Greg turned six Nicholas put him in an exclusive private school. By then they'd moved up to a single-family, five-bedroom house outside the city. Things were looking good.
Nicholas listened to the radio in Lana's office. He'd done well for himself and Greg. When he died, his estate would go to his brother. Greg would never have to work at a paying job. He'd never broken the law and never would. Nicholas taught him well.
Greg was content in his small house with its studio on the property, which was surrounded by woods where he could search for dead animals and save them for eternity.
Greg watched his sister-in-law cross the lawn. Her footsteps were quick, as if Nicholas had angered her somehow. He knew it wasn't Nicholas, but the secretary that had got her goat.
Greg shook his head. Women. He often wondered why his brother had married Deana. Why he didn't find a sassier upper-crust one who would suit his personality better.
Greg had found a sassier woman. An outspoken one who didn't mind speaking her mind.... And she'd left him. Maybe if he'd chosen a more malleable one, she'd still be with him. Now she'd disappeared and no one could find her.
But a sassier woman would ask questions. Nicholas wasn't one to answer questions for anyoneâexcept Greg.
A car drove into the yard. His appointment had arrived. He waited for the woman to maneuver the cobblestone path, then opened the door to admit her. She was there to see his progress on her beloved pooch.
“My dear. I thought you would never complete this process.” She swept into Greg's studio dressed in her usual attire, including hat and gloves. A bit overdressed, Greg thought, but she was willing to pay his price and he wasn't one to complain about clients. Not that he had to work. His brother had set him up quite handsomely for the rest of his life. Work was a joy, not a requirement.
“It takes a while to do it properly,” Greg responded. The woman had brought Greg a picture of the pooch with the expression she wanted saved for all time.
Proudly, Greg unveiled the piece. He saw it as a work of art while he was sure the woman looked at it from another perspective.
“Excellent. Excellent. I will send photos to all my friends.”
“It should be ready in a week. I wanted your approval before I added the finishing touches.”
“I'm having a party in two weeks. The timing is perfect.”
Greg smiled.
The woman left and Greg thought about Nick's upcoming birthday and the surprise he'd commissioned for him. Nick deserved the best.
6
After Brian ate he insisted they return to Ocean Front Street. He could tell Lisa was nervous. He didn't know what to think about the woman. She was adamant about him not driving and truthfully, he was glad he didn't have to. He just didn't know her game and she was the least of his problems. There was genuine fear on her face when she exploded into him. She'd seen a dead body. Of course she was afraid. But why was she still here? He regarded her. Something intense flared through his gut. She wasn't as cultured as the women he usually dated. She was bossy and snappy. And yet he felt himself drawnâattracted. Was it because she seemed to care in her peculiar way? Or was it because he'd been without a woman for a long time? He wasn't this attracted to his nurses. No. There was something about her.
At a red light she glanced at him. “Why don't I ask the questions while you rest? One hour of sleep wasn't enough.”
“The neighbors know me,” he said. “They'll be more receptive to me. Quite a few military retirees live on this street. Most of them know my grandfather.”
He wished he could get rid of the cane, but he needed it for support. It was only noon and Brian felt as if he was on his second day at BUD/S in California, where he took the rigorous training to become a SEAL.
Then he remembered Lisa had planned to clean his grandfather's house. She was probably worried about getting paid. “Do you need to call your boss?” he asked.
“Boss?” She looked puzzled.
“About the job. Don't worry. You'll still get paid for it.”
“I'm the boss. My business is new. Only started it a couple months ago,” she said. “When do you think the police will let me clean it?”
Brian shrugged. “It's anybody's guess.” They'd reached Ocean Front Street. He noticed goose bumps on Lisa's arms and that the uncertain look was back on her face.
Lisa left Brian in the car when she went to the first house. She'd parked as close to the front door as she could get, but it made no sense for Brian to use his waning energy to climb the stairs if no one was home.
An older man answered the door. He appeared to be in his seventies. He pushed his glasses up on his nose as he gawked through the locked screen door.
“Good morning,” Lisa said.
“If it's somebody selling something, send 'em away,” a hoarse female voice from inside said. “We aren't buying.”
“You selling something?” the man asked. A smile quirked at his lips.
“Ah, no, sir,” Lisa responded.
“Is that a woman I hear?” the female shouted.
The man smiled, looking Lisa up and down, but didn't respond.
Lisa barely restrained an eye roll. No matter how old, men still thought they had it going on. Reluctantly she admitted he was an attractive manâfor his age. But lusting after him would be like lusting after her grandfather and that just didn't appeal to her. She'd never been into older men.
“Tell her to get away from here,” the same piqued voice called out. Footsteps pounded rapidly toward them. When the woman appeared she was as fiery and hot as the cigarette hanging from the side of her mouth.
“Didn't you hear me? Fast thing coming by here. Leave. There's nothing here for you.”
“I'm not trying to steal your man. I'm . . .” Lisa strived for a more placating tone.
“Then why're you here?”
“Afternoon, Mrs. Clark,” Brian said, nearly scaring the daylights out of Lisa, the way he'd sneaked up on her. “Do you remember me?”
“Who are you?” the woman asked suspiciously.
“Brian Knight. My grandfather lives across the street.”
“My goodness.” For the first time the woman smiled. It completely transformed her face. Lisa detected a hint of warmth for Brian as she finally unhooked the screen door and opened it wide. “Come on in.”
They crossed the threshold into the living room. Newspapers and various magazines were on the sofa table with a cup of coffee. Otherwise, the place was reasonably neat. The room was decorated with some lovely pieces.
“You're back from the war?” Mrs. Clark asked.
“Yes, ma'am. For a little while.”
She peered at the cane. “And you're hurt. Sit a spell. Rest yourself,” she ordered. “Is that your girlfriend with you?”
“Yes,” Lisa said before Brian could refute her. She planned to leave brochures at all the homes on the street, and she wanted to make sure this woman knew she wasn't interested in her man. Seniors usually kept their homes reasonably clean, requiring much less work than in homes filled with children.
Brian quirked his brow, but didn't correct her. She'd explain later.
Mrs. Clark narrowed her gaze. “Is she taking good care of you?”
“Very good,” Brian said as he sank into a chair.
“At least that's something. People are so busy now they don't have time for anything but their own needs. Stop looking at her, Mark. She's taken. That's
Brian's
girlfriend,” she said with emphasis.
Brian's
girlfriend,” she said with emphasis.
“Where else am I supposed to look?” Mark asked.
“At Brian.”
“For what?”
Lisa quickly glanced at Brian. Mark was a letch. Probably the reason Brian let her pretend to be his love interest.
Mrs. Clark rolled her eyes before she focused on Brian again. “Were you over at your grandpa's place when the murder happened?”
“Iâ”
“You aren't safe anywhere these days. Murdered that poor woman right in your granddaddy's house. It's already on the news. Nothing like this has ever happened here. This neighborhood should be safe.”
“You mind if I ask you a few questions?” Brian asked.
“You could, but it won't do you much good. I didn't see anything.”
“I was wondering if you've seen any strangers lingering on the street lately.”
“Just the usual. There's the people who deliver food to several of us each week. You know, that place called Personally Yours. I order from them, too, 'cause I hate to cook now. Saves me a lot.”
Personally Yours was a personal chef business on the island. Lisa's cousin Gabrielle's husband owned it.
“Was there a different driver this time?”
“No, no. Same man. But he doesn't come today. He comes on Fridays,” she told him. “Such a friendly man. Been coming for close to a year now. Never had a problem.”
“Anything else?” Brian asked.
“Well, somebody's renting the house across the street, but that's not unusual. The owner bought it as an investment and rents it out during the winter and summer, too. Somebody's always coming and going there.”
“Man, woman?”
“Man, but a woman visits sometimes. She never spends the night, although some nights he doesn't stay. I don't know where he goes.”
“How long has he been there?”
“A month. Usually leaves early in the morning and returns late afternoon. He's working on some project with a local company. I know because he's very neighborly. Helps me bring in my groceries.” She sniffed disdainfully. “Not like most young folks these days. He put together the high chair I bought for my great-granddaughter.”
“Did you happen to notice any cars drive by that may have been casing the street?”
“No I haven't noticed.” She patted her gray, tightly curled hair. “I haven't felt safe since my Jimmy died two years ago. When will your grandfather be back? I always felt safe with him around. He and Jimmy were good friends, you know,” she said.
Brian stifled a smile. “A few more months, ma'am.”
Lisa was puzzled. Why was the woman so territorial about this man she apparently lived with if she was still mooning about her husband? Why would he marry her if she was still in love with another man?
“Stop by sometime,” the woman said. “You really should talk to Eileen Mable. She lives across the street. Nosey old woman. Little goes on that she doesn't know about. She's probably out looking for that annoying dog of hers. Always breaking loose and running through the neighborhood. Didn't come home this time and Eileen's combing the street for him.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Clark,” Brian said.
Lisa was upset over Harriet's death, but she couldn't afford to miss a business opportunity. She opened her purse and selected a brochure with a business card clipped to it.
“Here's a brochure that lists the services my cleaning business provides,” she said, handing it over. “You can reach me at that number at any time.”
Mrs. Clark took the brochure and regarded the contents. She glanced at Lisa. “I'll consider it. I need a good spring cleaning occasionally.”
Lisa and Brian left and drove across the street. This time both she and Brian got out of the car and approached the front door. Lisa rang the doorbell, but no one responded.
“We'll come back later,” Brian said.
Lisa was deep in thought as she drove away, wondering about Mrs. Clark. The woman seemed to have everything she needed. Nice home in one of the more exclusive areas in Virginia Beach. If Lisa could afford a place like thisâobviously her Jimmy had left Mrs. Clark well offâLisa would play bridge or bingo with the older ladies. Take bus trips. Spend some time with the church group. But she wouldn't waste her time on some no-account man who only gave you heartache and trouble.
“Is Mrs. Clark married to that man?” she asked Brian.
“That's her brother.”
“Her brother? Why should she care if her brother gets involved with a woman? Especially at his age.”
“Because she's afraid he'd try to move a female friend into her house and she doesn't want anyone else living there, including her brother. But he's family. She can't put him out,” he said tiredly. “She caught his last girlfriend tucking Mrs. Clark's jewelry into her suitcase when she made her leave.”
“Hmph.” Mrs. Clark sounded a lot like Lisa's father. He couldn't wait to get her out of the apartment over his garage. But Mr. Clark was in his seventies. Lisa didn't want to have to depend on her family at that age. And in order to make that happenâto make something of her lifeâshe had to stay away from no-good men. Including the one beside her.
Brian interviewed several more neighbors without gathering any useful information. They finally went to the house that was being rented. A man dressed in an expensive suit answered the door. He was knotting his tie.
All Lisa could think was he was one fine-looking brother. A little too old for her tastesâhe appeared to be in his early fortiesâbut he was fine just the same.
He threw her a thousand-watt smile and Lisa's heart tripped. Her first impression was he was all flash and no substance. She'd had too many of his kind to be impressed.
Brian flashed her an aggravated glance. Storm clouds had gathered in his eyes by the time he focused on the guy. She didn't know a person could change expressions so totally and so quickly.
The guy took a step back, held his hands up like they were pointing a gun at him instead of questions, as if to say,
she's all yours
.
she's all yours
.
Lisa stifled an eye roll. Brian didn't own her. What right did he think he had to get all snippy?
“I'm Brian Knight. My grandfather lives across the street. I'm sure you're aware a woman was murdered there this morning.”
“I was saddened to hear that,” the man said. “Although I hadn't met her, all the neighbors seem kind.”
“And you are?” Brian asked pointedly.
“Justin,” he said. “Justin Glaser.”
“Have you seen anyone unusual in the neighborhood lately?”
“No. I haven't been here very long and don't know the flow of things. I was working on some paperwork when I heard the sirens. One of the neighbors said it'll be a few months before the owner returns. I didn't know anyone was living there.”
“I'm living there,” Brian almost growled.
So much for getting along with the neighbors. Lisa watched the two of them square off. The other guy was acting reasonable, but what was Brian's male flexing all about?
When Brian finished questioning him they left the area. Lisa needed to get home to change for her party.
“I don't like that guy,” he said.
“Why? He seemed pleasant enough. You were the difficult one.”
“I don't trust him. His smile was too oily.”
“He seemed sincere to me.”
Usually the first impression was the lasting impression. Even in pain, Brian couldn't stop thinking about the pull Lisa had on him. She was the kind of full-figured woman men dreamed of. Not too endowed, but just . . . perfect. He'd thought Lisa had some substance, definitely felt himself responding. He must be crazy. She probably had a boyfriend. Of course the slick, pretty-faced Justin would appeal to her. He knew what to say, how to smile to get the desired effect.
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