Rise of the Notorious (24 page)

“Afternoon delight is not just a song, man.” He winked, then turned to Lynette. He bowed his head, tipped his non-existent hat graciously, and smiled at her. “
Mademoiselle
.”

She bit back a laugh and lifted her chin regally, extending her hand to him. “Mr. Bailey.”

He accepted her hand and leaned in to press his lips to her skin, eyes shifting to Linc as he straightened. “Is that champagne for sharing or did you just come here to bother us?”

Linc gave him a sidelong look. “Believe me, if I thought I’d be interrupting something, I would have taken this party elsewhere.”

Madison straightened her dress, eyebrows raised as she looked at her brother. “What are we celebrating?”

“A changing of the tide,” Linc announced, tearing open the wrapping on the bottle and happily popping the cork. Lynette was at his side in an instant, plastic champagne flutes at the ready. He poured the champagne as he continued, “Not only have I put the final touches on our remarketing campaign, thanks to all the free time I’ve had this week
not
having to worry about the press,” he winked at Madison and handed her the first glass. “But I also just got off the phone with the CEO of McAllister Hotels…he wants to go in with us on our expansion and take on our brand name. We could have a full line of classy yet affordable three-star hotels bearing the Vasser name within three years.”

Madison’s lips parted as surprise flashed over her face. “That’s…incredible.”

Just then, Grant and Quinn walked in.

“Did you tell her?” Quinn asked, teeth flashing in a bright grin.

“I’d say by the look of shock on her face, she knows,” Grant put in dryly, though he met his sister’s eyes and smiled. “What do you think, Mads? Should we accept his offer?”

Her gaze shifted between her brothers as she gave it some thought, trying to quickly work out all the angles of this new opportunity. It would definitely be a head start on her plans…

“Arrange a meeting and we’ll make this happen.” She lifted her glass in a toast, smiling as Grant and Quinn were poured glasses and joined in with the others. Her eyes flickered to each face, from her lover at her side, to her brothers across from her, to the women they loved who were becoming something of friends to her. It humbled her deeply to have them all there, taking part in this monumental turning point in the Vasser legacy. “To our empire. Though it has fallen, witness now as it rises from the ashes to begin anew.”

“Amen to that,” Wyatt added, clicking his glass to the others and turning to Madison before sipping. While the others began talking, he leaned in to kiss her cheek, then hovered beside her ear. “Don’t forget that with every success comes those who want to take it away from you.”

She met his eyes as he pulled away, her gaze fierce and her smile wicked around the edges.

“I dare them to try.”

Dusk claimed the
sky as her sneakers hit the pavement. She jogged swiftly, expertly, her body well tuned to the rhythm of the hip hop that blasted through her headphones.

Kennedy avoided pedestrians on the sidewalk, darted between parked cars and kept her eyes open for bicyclists. It was like an obstacle course, but it was one she loved.

Out here, she wasn’t Kennedy Vasser, useless kid sister to the glorious Madison Vasser. No, she was just a girl enjoying a run, comfortable in her own skin.

Angry tears clouded her vision as flashes of Madison all over the television and magazines plagued her, her sister’s notoriety the talk of the town. Everyone suddenly loved her, for some stupid reason, and her brothers were getting a fair share of the attention, too. Suddenly her family was all the rage, victims of bullies but ready to rise above the demons of their past.

It made her sick to her stomach.

She was still a nobody. It seemed the press couldn’t be bothered to print anything about her. She just wasn’t important enough, apparently. No one cared about
her
opinions, or
her
accomplishments. No, all they cared about was how Madison had stood up for herself against the people she claimed lied about her.

But Kennedy didn’t believe a word of it. As far as she was concerned, Madison was still responsible for their father’s death. Even if she didn’t have anything to do with the drugs, she had still hated him and wanted him out of the way. That was enough to make any father kill himself.

And the fact that she’d known about their great-grandfather’s murder for all these years was unforgivable. How could she even
live
with herself?

Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands as she picked up her pace, letting her anger fuel her. At some point, karma was going to come back and hurt Madison for her actions. She didn’t know when, she didn’t know how, but she knew it would be one hell of a doozy when it hit.

She sincerely hoped she had some part to play in it when it happened.

The van slowed and pulled to the curb behind her, but she didn’t notice it. All she could hear was Jay-Z’s voice rapping adoringly about the concrete jungle they both called home.

A startled gasp escaped her lips as an arm suddenly wrapped around her torso, her sneakers skidding as she jolted to a stop. Before she could register what was happening, she was dragged into the van and gagged, a black cover pulled over her head as the door shut with a loud slam.

The music continued to blast in her ears as her hands were tied. In her panic, she barely felt the needle that slipped into her arm, the drug coaxing her almost instantly to sleep.

C
harlene sat at the oversized, cherrywood dining table in her town house, the phone held impatiently against her ear. She rapped her fingers against the table, her nails clicking over the wood as the phone continued to ring. When Kennedy’s voicemail picked up, yet again, she hung up the phone and slammed it down impatiently.

She stared at the table, graced with heirloom china, spotless ivory lace placemats, and fresh pink orchids. Roasted chicken with sprigs of asparagus sat uneaten on a plate before her, another full plate across the table. She glared at the food, now going cold, trying to beat back the worry that slithered horribly into her gut.

Kennedy was always home from her run by seven o’clock. It was already nearing nine. Charlene grabbed the phone once more and dialed her daughter’s cell, a furious scolding on her tongue as she waited with bated breath for an answer.

Nothing. She quickly dialed Linc’s number, the idea suddenly occurring to her that Kennedy could be at the hotel visiting him. Though it had been weeks since she had wanted to go to there…

“
What’s up, mom?
” Linc answered, the sound of a ballgame on in the background.

“Is Kennedy with you?” Charlene demanded, irritated that her voice shook.

“
No, why?
” The sounds of baseball died out as he muted the television, his voice hardening. “
What’s going on? Is everything okay?
”

“She hasn’t come home yet.” Charlene frowned, rubbing at her temple wearily. “I’ve tried calling her dozens of times. She won’t answer.”

“
Maybe she’s out with friends. She’s nineteen, mom. She’s allowed to have a social life outside of you
.”

Charlene bristled. “She knows better than to not call me.”

Linc sighed audibly on the other line. “
I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t stress out, and just think of the ass-whooping you get to give her the second she slinks back into the house. God knows you gave me more than one.
”

Despite the circumstances, she smiled. “Goodnight, Linc.”

She hung up the phone and cut into her chicken breast, attempting to eat. She managed to swallow a few bites before the deafening silence of the house got to her.

Damnit, she was used to that obnoxious music Kennedy listened to, blasting down from her room upstairs. The house suddenly seemed so empty without it.

She sipped at her glass of wine and tried desperately hard not to imagine her daughter lying dead in a gutter somewhere.

Things like that didn’t happen in this neighborhood, she reminded herself. No reason to panic.

His dreams took
him deep into the past.

Marshall saw his mother as she had been in his youth, vibrant and full of life. Her blonde hair glowed golden in the sun as she stood beside him outside of the hotel, her lips painted a brilliant red that contrasted with the radiance of her smile. Eyes of the richest blue stared down at him, always clever and a little bit mysterious. He was a child again and her hand held his tiny one, close and secure.

His mother Stella had been the only woman he had ever truly loved. Although he had lost her long ago, his memories of her were still extraordinarily vivid. Her laugh, her smile, her quick wit and sharp tongue. She had been, in his opinion, the most amazing woman to have ever lived. His father had been a lucky man to have convinced her to marry him.

She often walked beside him in his dreams, taking him back to his childhood and the times he missed the most. Life had been easier then, happier and filled with prosperity. The family business grew after the war and, as with most Americans, the Vasser family thrived.

Perhaps that was why his dreams took him to those years more often than not. The years before
it
happened.

Before the suicide that had rocked his family to its very core.

Well, suspected suicide. But none of them had been any the wiser to that fact at the time.

Marshall tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep, the image of his mother sharpening into clearer focus as she suddenly let go of his hand. He let his arm drop to his side as he watched her walk away from him, her legs carrying her out into the street. Cars drove by, old Fords and Buicks that gleamed in the sunlight, but they didn’t seem to notice her.

He started to rush forward to stop her, but his feet wouldn’t move. He seemed glued to the concrete, his body frozen and useless. Panicked, he called out to her, but she wasn’t listening. Instead she continued ahead until she was standing in the middle of one of the lanes. She paused, then turned around slowly to face him.