Love Under Three Titans (20 page)

* * * *

Conrad stared at the phone for a long moment, his mind reviewing the conversation just passed. That had gone well. He’d used just the right amount of authority, with a hint of condescension in his voice. Miss Morrison would meet with him tomorrow, and soon there’d be more rumors flying around about that bastard Benedict, this time right in his very own hometown.

Let him see how it feels to be prodded and interrogated by family and friends. Let him see what it’s like to be abandoned and disowned
.

Conrad walked over to the bar in his suite and poured himself a glass of scotch. It would soon be time to leave this backwater place and return to New York City. Once there, it shouldn’t take him long to establish his own consulting firm. He certainly had the funds to get started—
Thank you very much, Grandmother
—and he knew he’d have no trouble convincing prospective clients that with his knowledge of European markets, he’d be a good choice for them.

Before long he’d be in a position to outbid the “family firm.” He knew all their secrets and all their means of doing business—and their fee structure. He’d undercut them until he made them bleed. Business had been lean even before Conrad Partners had signed Benedict International as a client. When Benedict had severed their contract, his father and uncles had proven typically meek in refusing to sue the American company for breach of contract.

He
certainly wouldn’t be timid in that regard.

Conrad sipped his drink and then checked his watch. As soon as Talbot’s last report arrived via courier, he’d begin to plot the final part of his revenge. The investigator said he’d amassed a good amount of personal data on Benedict, and that information was in this concluding report.

Conrad would hopefully have a plethora of targets from which to choose. He’d be certain to select something suitable, even as he tried to guess what it was Richard Benedict held most dear. A car? A house? Whatever it was, Conrad would destroy it. Then he’d make arrangements and go back to New York City. The Internet was a marvelous tool. He could witness the implosion of Benedict’s life from there.

As far as Conrad was concerned, he couldn’t get out of Texas fast enough. The men here were too rough, too unsophisticated, and the women, from what he’d seen so far, either too loose or pathetically dull-witted.

The people in New York weren’t really all that much better. It rankled his sensibilities to conduct business with these lower-class creatures, but there really was no help for it. He promised himself then and there that as soon as he’d recovered the money Benedict had cost him, he’d go back to England.

Once on familiar ground, he could create a new Conrad empire based on e-commerce. That would suit him very well.

Yes, his last foray into that medium had ended in disaster. He’d chalk that up to a lesson learned. He’d never again go into anything as a silent partner or with less than majority shares.

He poured himself another scotch and stood for a long time, looking out the window, sipping, but mostly, imagining the humiliation his enemy would soon endure.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his pleasant thoughts.

He nearly slipped and used his real surname. “Clarence.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Clarence, it’s the front desk. A courier package has arrived for you, sir.”

“Yes, I’ve been expecting it. Please have someone bring it up to me as soon as possible.”

“Right away, sir.”

Yes, e-commerce would definitely be the way to go. His future would be nothing but brilliant. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Optimism coursed through him as it hadn’t done in a long, long time. He felt so good he generously tipped the bellman who delivered the manila envelope.

Fresh glass of scotch in hand, Clarence Conrad sat down on the sofa in his suite, opened the envelope, and began to read.

Rick stepped into the cool, fresh air of the Hilton Hotel in downtown Waco. Across the street from the River Square Center, this part of the historic city always teemed with people. He thought back to the photographs he’d seen of his great-greats in this town before the turn of the previous century. He wondered what they’d think of how much this settlement on the banks of the Brazos River, founded in 1849, had grown since their time.

Modern-day Waco was the heart of Central Texas, a living, vibrant,
vital
city.

As he’d waited on the sidewalk with his brothers for Jake to join them, he’d had the eerie sense he was being watched. Now, as they came indoors, Rick tried to shake off the itchy feeling that followed him out of the Texas midday sunlight and into the lobby.

His family had often used the Hilton for meetings and conferences. He was as familiar with the facilities here as he was with his own offices in Houston.

If he knew Conrad—and he believed he did—the bastard would be ensconced in one of the suites on the executive floor.

He caught sight of Trevor shrugging his shoulders and then looking back out to the street.

“Creepiest feeling ever.” Trevor’s whisper reached him easily. “It felt as if someone was shooting daggers at me.”

“Huh. Me, too.” Kevin looked around the lobby.

“Well, that makes three of us.”

“Not the first time we’ve all felt the same bad mojo. Must be our being in such close proximity to the asshole, Conrad,” Trevor said.

“Get it together, please.” Jake clearly fought his grin. “You’re the Titans of the twenty-first century, remember. Act like it.”

Rick glared at Trevor. “Have I told you
today
how much I hate that fucking moniker?”

Trevor grinned. “That’s okay, big brother. The moment it popped into my head I knew you were going to hate it.”

Kevin couldn’t keep his grin back, either. “Yeah, that’s what made using it as the headline irresistible. I’ll go take a look, just in case the fucker is already sitting in the restaurant, waiting for our woman.”

“Good thinking,” Richard said.

They’d arrived nearly an hour ahead of the time Maggie had arranged to meet Conrad, but the man
might
already be seated.

“I have to say, I was impressed that Maggie didn’t insist on coming with us.” Jake had actually blinked when Maggie had put paid to that notion right away.

Rick smiled. “She doesn’t feel the need to handle everything, which balances nicely with me, since I too often do.”

“Well, at least you’re aware of your shortcomings.” His cousin looked as if he was biting the inside of his cheek.

Rick chuckled and looked around the lobby. Two people took advantage of the comfortable furnishings, one on a small love seat, appearing to have her attention deep into a book, the other settled in a plush armchair, scanning a newspaper.

One client stood at the front desk, likely checking in.

A man dressed in a blue business suit hurried toward them. Rick recognized the manager, Tom Koch.

“Gentlemen, this is an unexpected pleasure! Welcome back to the Hilton.”

Jake stepped forward, his hand extended in greeting.

They’d agreed to let their cousin, who in this instance was acting as their lawyer, be their spokesman. Jake did a much better job of looking scary, in their minds, than Rick or either of his brothers could ever hope to do.

“Tom, how are you? How are Bethany and the kids?”

“Everyone’s well, thank you very much, Mr. Kendall. Would you care to come to my office? I’ll have coffee brought in.”

“Thank you, no. We’re sorry to impose on you, Tom, but you have a guest that we need, very much, to speak with.”

“Certainly, sir. Do you have his name and room number?” Tom led them over to the registration desk. He stopped at the first computer terminal and looked up expectantly.

“We have his name but not his room number. He would be registered as either Edward Clarence or Clarence Conrad, and he’s traveling under a British passport.”

Rick took his focus off Koch, his gaze connecting with Kevin as his younger brother approached, shaking his head “no.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kendall. It looks like you’ve just missed him. He checked out about a half hour ago.”

Jake turned and met Rick’s gaze, one eyebrow raised. “Maybe he’s loaded up his car and is intending to come back to meet Maggie for lunch?”

Rick looked around the lobby. He had a strange feeling about this. “He might have done so. I wonder if he made a reservation at the Brazos Grille for lunch?”

Tom Koch picked up a telephone, keyed in a number. “Estelle, Tom here. Do you show a luncheon reservation…” He looked at Jake.

“For two people, one p.m.”

Koch repeated the information and then gave Conrad’s assumed name. “Great, thank you.”

He hung up the phone and nodded. “The gentleman does indeed have a reservation.”

Rick met Jake’s gaze. “Do you think we should wait and see if he shows up?”

Jake looked at his watch. “It’s nearly twelve thirty, and we’re here.” Jake smiled at Tom. “Do you have a copy of today’s paper?”

The accommodating manager nodded and handed him a copy of
USA Today
. Jake gave the newspaper to Rick. Then he looked at Trevor and Kevin.

“One of you should go sit in the restaurant, in case he comes enters a different way.”

“I’ll go stroll around outside.” Kevin grinned. “I don’t think the man knows that there are three of us, even though he met us all. He seems fixated on Rick.”

“That’s the impression that Michaelson gave us yesterday,” Rick agreed. “Sounds like a plan.”

Rick settled himself adjacent to his cousin. Sitting away from immediate view of anyone coming in the main entrance, he held the paper, ready to use the prop as a face shield. The minutes ticked by, slower than normal, it seemed to him.

“Do you think he might have given up, gone back to New York or England?”

Rick crossed one leg over the other, his gaze never leaving the entrance. “No. I never could have imagined he’d do as much as he has, and so far, everything he’s pulled has been so…so
grade school
. But Michaelson described him as being nearly obsessed. He said Conrad had a look in his eye that had seemed nearly maniacal when he spoke about me.”

“Has Michaelson gotten back to you with his decision yet?”

Rick shook his head. “No. I told him to go ahead and explore his other options.” Rick knew those other options wouldn’t give the man what he really wanted. It wasn’t the money Elwood Michaelson cared about the most. It was the legacy he wanted to leave his grandchildren. “If he changed his mind and wanted to resume the process, we’d be here.” When he felt Jake’s hard stare, Rick shrugged and said, “It’s not his fault this has happened. It’s mine.
I
was the one who went after that bastard Conrad in the first place.”

Jake just shook his head, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. “You don’t make a very good cutthroat businessman, cousin.”

If only Jake knew. His cousin hadn’t asked, and neither he nor his brothers had offered any explanation as to what had pushed Clarence Conrad over the edge. Rick met Jake’s gaze and said only, “Oh, well.”

On the whole, of course, Jake was correct in his assessment. Rick really didn’t make a good cutthroat businessman. That lack didn’t bother him one bit. It had never been one of his ambitions in life.

And if it had been, he felt fairly confident that either his parents or his grandmother would have cured him of it right quick enough.

Jake had opened his laptop, and Rick knew it wasn’t just for show. A very strong work ethic ran through their families. Though most of them didn’t have to work for a living, thanks to the amazing foresight of those first Benedicts, Kendalls, and Jessops, being a trust-fund baby was one ambition that had been strongly discouraged.

A man—or woman—not only made their own way but found ways to give back to the community, the state, and the nation.

It was the Benedict Way.

“What the hell…”

Jake’s epithet snapped Rick’s attention, first to the man and then to follow his line of sight. Julia, her fiancés, and a man he didn’t recognize had just come into the lobby from the street. With them was a man Rick
did
know—Lieutenant Anthony Corbett of the Waco Police Department.

Devon Wakefield spotted Rick and made his way directly over to him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

Kevin came through the door, his cell phone to his ear. In his peripheral vision, Rick saw Trevor reenter the lobby, his cell phone also in use, clearly summoned by Kev.

Rick’s sixth sense began to buzz. “Since we were here first, how about you answer your own question?”

The cop stepped forward, a hand on Dev’s arm. “We’re here on police business, Rick. I’ve a warrant to pick up a suspect wanted by New Scotland Yard. He’s a person of interest in a murder investigation, and they would like me to question the man.”

“Oh,
fuck
, Rick.” Kevin looked as sick as he felt.

Rick tried to swallow, but his throat felt as if it was closing. His bile threatened to rise, and fear grew in his belly. “Your suspect is Clarence Conrad, using the name Edward Clarence?”

“He is, and I have reason to believe he’s upstairs.”

“No, he checked out,” Jake said. “He was supposed to meet someone here for lunch. We’ve been staking out the lobby waiting for him, but he hasn’t shown yet.”

“He was here as of mere minutes ago.” The man Rick didn’t know said that. He immediately sat down and opened his laptop. After a moment, he scowled. “According to this, he’s right outside, across the street. Hang on.” He took his minicomputer, holding it open, and headed out the door of the hotel. He came back in moments later.

“Son of a bitch.” He held up a small device that looked like a disc with a couple of tiny wires poking out of it.

“Who is that bastard suspected of murdering?” Rick asked the question, but a part of him already knew the answer. He swallowed, the sour feeling in his stomach turning even more acidic than it already was.

“Mrs. Mary Elizabeth Chalmers, his maternal grandmother.”

The strength left Rick’s legs and he sank back down to the chair.
I did this
. He’d made the decision to go after that bastard, to ruin him, thinking that he had a right to make that decision. Thinking, like always, that he knew best.

Trevor and Kevin sat down on either side of him, and he felt the fraternity, the solidity of their presence. It didn’t lessen his guilt, but at least he felt less alone.

“Not on you, man. Whatever he did is on him. Anything else, we’re all responsible.” Trevor knew him well. Rick swallowed and nodded. He did believe in personal responsibility. He knew if Conrad had murdered, it wasn’t on him but on the man who had committed the crime.

“Would you mind telling me, Rick, what the hell you did to this guy to make him come after you?”

Rick looked across at Lieutenant Corbett. The cop had taken a seat, his gaze sharp. His own gaze flicked to his sister. He’d never wanted her to know this, but he’d lost that small battle, it would seem. “He emotionally and verbally abused my sister. The bastard’s plan was to manipulate her into giving him carte blanche to her fortune. He was going to use that money to finance his lifestyle as he married a young woman he was engaged to back in England—apparently the daughter of an earl.” Rick shook his head.

“We had no idea he was a bastard,” Trevor said. “We fucking introduced him to Julia. We thought he was a good man.”

Rick looked up, his gaze meeting his sister’s. “We couldn’t let him get away with the way he treated you, with what he planned to do. You’re our sister.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. None of this made any fucking sense. Conrad was an asshole. He knew that. But a murderer?

“So what did you do, big brother?”

“We broke the contract with his family firm, Conrad Partners. Then I went to London to explain to that company’s board of directors exactly
why
we’d done that. I also met with his fiancée and told her what he’d done, that he’d never said a word to any of us, you included, about being engaged—that he’d manipulated his way into your life.” He shrugged. “I never asked you, but I knew he hadn’t told you he was engaged. You’d never have dated him if you’d known.”

“Of course not.”

“But you didn’t stop there, did you?”

The man he didn’t know asked that. Dev said, “This is Connor Talbot. He’s a former colleague of mine, and an investigator, of sorts.”

Rick nodded to the man and then looked at his brothers. They met his gaze straight on, and he knew they were with him. “No, I didn’t stop there. How could I? The bastard was a little singed by family ire, but that was all. His fiancée left him, but we knew he didn’t really count it as a loss. Hell, we figured he was already looking for another woman to manipulate and use.” Rick sighed. “So I looked into his financials and discovered that he had most of his personal fortune invested in a small Internet business. He was the silent partner, the so-called money-man, but he only owned about forty percent of the stock.”