Rise of the Notorious (41 page)

“What reason would Raoul have to kidnap my sister?” Madison hissed, cold fury icing her veins. “I think you’re overreacting.”

“I hope I am.” Quinn shook her head sadly, her hands falling to her sides. “But if I’m not, then you owe it to Kennedy to find out the truth.”

Leaving it at that, she turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Madison hesitated, sincerely wanting to blow off Quinn’s concerns. After all, the notion of Raoul doing something like that was ludicrous. He was loyal to her, her greatest friend and confidant. What reason would he have to kidnap her little sister?

To scare her. To get her to back down, to get out of harm’s way. Her breath quickened as she remembered what he said to her when she told him about the letters.

You should heed those warnings. There is only so much I can do to help you.

Had he sent her all those letters, including the ransom note for Kennedy?

She held on to that thought as she stormed from her office and down to the kitchen of
Cherir
, shaking with suspicion and primed for a fight.

When she stepped into the empty kitchen and understood that he had fled, her heart plummeted to the floor and her eyes filled immediately with furious tears.

Good Lord, what had he done?

Grant hung up
the phone, his expression hard to read as he met eyes with Quinn.

“The detective didn’t answer,” he told her quietly. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

“She’s probably still questioning Jorja.” Quinn reached out to run her hand over his shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll get this straightened out.”

Madison stood as still as a statue beside the wide windows of Grant’s office, arms crossed tightly as if to ward off a chill. Her eyes took in the sunny, mid-morning view of the city outside, though she found no enjoyment in it. All she could think about was Raoul. “I should go find him, talk to him first.”

“He could be dangerous,” Grant growled. “I don’t want you going near him.”

Her fingernails dug deep into her forearms as she resisted the urge to reach out and strike her own brother. “He would never hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.” Grant let out an impatient sigh and stared up at Quinn. “You are not leaving my sight until the police arrest Raoul.”

Quinn started to protest, but held back at the fierce look he gave her. She instead left him and went to Madison’s side, careful not to give into her instinct to soothe, to comfort. The woman looked ready to explode at any moment.

“Are you sure Raoul is the one who sent you the letters?”

Madison stiffened, but nodded. “Those letters were personal, more personal than I even realized. But he knew I would never suspect him.”

“Do you think he’s hurt your sister?” Quinn asked, knowing the possibility needed to be discussed. Finding Kennedy had to be their number one priority now.

“No.” Madison avoided looking at her, knowing that no matter what defense she made for Raoul, the two of them wouldn’t believe her. They didn’t know him like she did and even though she was wary of his possible role in her sister’s kidnapping, she knew better than to doubt his intentions.

The door to the office burst open suddenly and Linc and Lynette swept in, both looking edgy and troubled.

“You are not going to believe what we found out,” Linc announced, holding up a CD and waving it around. He was about to launch into his explanation of what Shaw had said about Morgan, but paused at the looks on his siblings’ faces. “What happened?”

“We think that Raoul might have Kennedy,” Quinn filled him in, attempting to ignore the fury vibrating off Madison at her words. “Madison thinks he's the one who wrote those threatening letters she’s been getting, and this morning I saw scratches on his arm.”

Linc’s eyes widened. “No shit?”

Beside him, Lynette piped in. “Well,
we
have reason to believe that Jack Morgan is behind the kidnapping. We have proof that he tampered with the brakes on Grant’s car.”

Grant’s face immediately turned to stone. “Jack Morgan? Your father’s opponent?”

“Yes.” Lynette nodded, taking the disc from Linc’s hands and handing it to Grant. “My father had a man on the inside spying on Morgan. He managed to record Morgan ordering that the brakes be cut. It won’t be admissible in court, but at least we can point the police in his direction…”

Grant stared down at the disc, enraged at the sudden realization that the man who had tried to kill him had also sat before his desk and offered his support just days later.

“Why would Morgan do this?” Grant asked, glancing around at the others doubtfully.

“Shaw thinks that Morgan wanted to drum up more sympathy for the family,” Linc supplied, crossing his arms furiously. “That way he could be the good guy and go around singing our praises, making Shaw the bad guy the second he wanted to unveil Morgan’s secret.”

“And my father has decided to let that go, by the way,” Lynette told them. “He won’t go public with the information on Morgan’s father.”

Grant nodded, pleased to hear it. “So if Morgan is responsible for the brakes, isn’t it possible that he kidnapped Kennedy, and not Raoul, and that he also tried to have Madison shot?”

“Morgan didn’t write those letters,” Madison said suddenly, her voice bitter. All eyes turned to her as she continued. “Raoul is involved in this, but I doubt he has any knowledge of Morgan. And he wouldn’t team up with Jorja, so there must be someone else involved.”

Both she and Grant thought of the same person at that moment, but neither voiced the name.

“But would Morgan team up with Jorja?” Quinn asked, reaching for the newspaper on Grant’s desk that had a photograph of the hoodie-wearing assailant on it. “Can we be sure that this is her?”

“I don’t think it is her,” Linc sniffed, irritated. “Morgan probably just hired someone to do it.”

“Who hires a woman to do a hit?” Lynette asked, eyebrows raised.

Madison snorted. “The right woman wouldn’t have missed.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed as she stared intently at the photograph. “You know, this is going to sound really crazy…but I swear that this woman has the same build as Kennedy. And look, you can see a little bit of hair sticking out from under the hood. Doesn’t it look light brown?”

“Christ, Quinn, what the hell are you saying?” Linc stared at her in disbelief. “You think
Kennedy
tried to kill Madison? She’s just a kid.”

“She’s nineteen,” Quinn defended. “Look, it sounds bizarre, but maybe the kidnapper forced her to.”

Madison stared at Quinn coldly. “It doesn’t sound that bizarre. We all know she hates me.”

Linc couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Are you serious? You think she hates you so much that she’d try and
murder
you?”

Madison stiffened. “Why the hell wouldn’t she?”

He only shook his head and turned back to Quinn. “Look, there’s no point in even thinking about it anymore. It wasn’t Kennedy. Okay?”

Quinn eyed him carefully, understanding that she had crossed some line with him. She wisely chose to beat back her stubborn nature and back off for the time being. “Okay.”

Grant watched Quinn, tapping his fingers over his desk as he gave her idea some thought. On instinct he wanted to revolt the way that Linc was, but he knew she wouldn’t voice something so horrific if she didn’t have reason to believe it may be true.

“Let me see that.” Grant took the paper from her, then looked at the photograph himself. It showed a glimpse of the shooter’s back as she ran away, partially blocked by the surrounding crowd as confusion reigned. His eyes took in the assailant’s slender, lanky figure, and he spotted the tuft of hair Quinn had seen. Seeing it dropped a sick ball of revulsion into his stomach.

Saying nothing, he set the newspaper back on his desk just as Wyatt came into the room.

All eyes turned to him curiously as he shut the door at his back with a quiet click. He did a quick glance around at everyone, but when his gaze landed on Madison he paused.

“I have some news you’re not going to want to hear, sweetheart,” he said, voice void of emotion. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“What could be worse than what I already know?” Madison retorted, fighting back the rush of emotions she felt. “Raoul wrote those letters. He has scratches on his arm, which leads us to believe he has Kennedy.”

Wyatt nodded. “I know.”

Before Linc or Quinn could launch themselves at him and barrage him with questions, Wyatt held up his hands to stop them. “But before you all jump to conclusions, I think you should know why he did it.”

“How the hell do you know why he did it?” Madison asked, fire breaking out in her eyes to burn violently.

Wyatt’s lips curled in a well practiced sneer. “I know because this shit got started in Vegas, eight years ago.”

Madison said nothing as she continued to stare at him. Her insides went a bit queasy and her knees felt weak, but she held her ground.

Wyatt continued, “The short of it is, Duke is blackmailing Raoul and using him to get rid of you. In essence, your asshole cousin wants what your grandpa gave you and will do anything to get it. Even resort to killing you.”

Because part of her had expected this, Madison barely flinched. “And the long of it?”

Wyatt sighed. “The long of it started in Las Vegas. The day I left, Duke called me into his office. He claimed that I had stolen a large sum of cash from the casino and that it had been discovered in my employee locker. He insisted that he could have me arrested, unless I left the city. Unless I left you and my job behind without a word.

“Then Raoul came in, and I understood at that moment that he had framed me. He had stolen the money and planted it in my locker, in the hopes that I would get caught. And Duke clearly knew about it because he made no secret of his desire for me to leave town. None of your family ever approved of us, sweetheart. Duke held that over my neck like a goddamn axe. As my wife, a scandal like that would have ruined you. He knew I would have no choice but to leave.”

“Wife?” Linc cut in, eyes wide as he stared back and forth between Wyatt and Madison. “You guys are married?”

Madison’s jaw clenched with fierce intensity as she tried to hold the flooding emotions in, to keep from exploding. She shot her brother a nasty look. “Not really.”

Grant cleared his throat and looked up at Wyatt expectantly. “So how does this all relate to what’s happening now?”

Wyatt turned to him, teeth bared in a cynical grin. “Duke comes to New York City eight years later, furious that Madison got the position he feels is rightfully his. He turns to his old buddy Raoul, knowing he can blackmail the poor bastard into helping get rid of her.”

Grant frowned. “So he sends her letters to scare her, and helps Duke kidnap Kennedy, hoping to convince her to back down. When that didn’t work, he arranged to have her killed.”

“
No!
” Madison snarled, face contorted with rage as she stormed up to Wyatt and grabbed him by his shirt, shaking him forcefully. “Raoul wouldn’t hurt me, damnit. He had his reasons for trying to scare me away, I can deal with that. But he would never be part of a plot to kill me.”

Wyatt grabbed her wrists tightly to hold her in place, his eyes meeting hers fiercely. “You underestimate the power of blackmail, sweetheart.”

“What the hell is he so afraid of that he’d resort to this?” she hissed, trying to free herself from his grasp.

He just pulled her in closer and with one, sinister look stopped her struggling. “Tell me you don’t hate him for what he did to me? To you?”

Her lips parted as she processed his words, absorbed the betrayal. Yes, it was true. She did hate him for it. And with that hatred came the sickness, the shock. The pain.

Wyatt softened his hold on her, sensing her acceptance. He brushed at the single tear that fell from her eye and let the relief pulse through him. At last, the truth was out.

“He made the choice to guard his secret and help Duke destroy your life, versus facing you with the truth.”

“So did you,” she murmured, staring at him as if he were a stranger. “Why did you wait so long to tell me this? We could have stopped them.”