Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (34 page)

“That I am, Marjorie. Good to see you.”

They’d worked closely together, longer even than he and Roman, and in all that time, he’d pretty much called her Gardner, rarely using her given name. She liked it that way and even said so several times. Once, they’d even laughed about how appropriate it was that his office guard dog, as she called herself, was actually named Gardner.

But today? Today, he was re-establishing clear-cut and straightforward lines as to who was included in his inner circle.

When he greeted her by name and added a polite comment—something he didn’t normally do—she was savvy enough to know immediately that something had changed.

Marjorie Gardner was also one smart cookie, snapping to attention and immediately moving into busy-as-usual mode. The woman was a treasure, and Liam made a mental note to check out what he paid her because whatever it was—it wasn’t enough.

An hour later, he’d finished prioritizing the mass of work requiring his attention before turning to other things.

First, he had to touch base with Roman. Besides the weekly email or text check-in they did with each other, he hadn’t spoken directly to him since their last conversation at the airport.

With that out of the way, and while he waited to hear back, Liam took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself before reaching for the phone on his desk. The company hadn’t imploded during his absence, and as far as he could tell, it was business as usual so there really wasn’t any reason to drag his feet about contacting Rhiann.

Feeling a little bit like a pimply teenager calling a girl for the first time, he dialed her direct line at
Passion
and cleared his throat as the call went through.

A disembodied voice,
not Rhiann,
muttered, “Communications. How can I help you?”

Rather than throw his weight around, he didn’t identify himself right away, and simply said, “Rhiann Wilde, please,” fully expecting to be put through to her.

A long uncomfortable silence ensued that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. About the last thing he ever expected to hear came back at him through the phone.

“I’m sorry, but Miss Wilde is, uh. . . . that is to say, she’s not available. All of her calls are being directed to Human Resources. Would you like me to connect you?”

Human Resources? What in the hell was going on?

At first, the woman who answered the forwarded call was about as curt and rude as a Human Resources employee could possibly be—something that pissed him off royally.

Annoyed and anxious at the same time, he gave up on the pretense of this being a casual inquiry and identified himself. That was when he was informed that
Passion’s
Communications Director was currently on suspension.

“What the hell do you mean, she’s been suspended?” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Suspended for what exactly? Doing her job brilliantly and running her team like a professional?”

“Er, uh . . . ,” the voice mumbled. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have any details. I only know that she was suspended.”

“On whose authority?” he barked.

He heard the sound of fingers frantically tapping a keyboard and then, “Um, well, Mr. Ashforth, it looks like the suspension was authorized through BPG directly and signed off on by a Mrs. Walsh.”

That fucking bitch. What had she done?

Not bothering with a good-bye, he slammed the phone down so hard, it was a wonder the damn thing hadn’t pulverized.

Picking up his cell phone, he dialed Rhiann’s cell and tried to calm down. If he didn’t hear her voice in the next minute and reassure himself that she was all right, he was going to lose it.

“Hi. Rhiann here. You have reached the no calls and no messages zone. If this is a personal call, you’re shit-out-of-luck. If it’s business related . . . go fuck yourself. Thanks and have a nice day.”

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?

Oh, my god. Pressing his hand against his chest, Liam wondered for a second if he was having a heart attack. Stabbing his finger at the intercom, he pressed the button that would connect him to his secretary. “Gardner! Get the fuck in here. Now!”

Two seconds later, she came bursting into his office with alarm etched on her face. “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
Leaping from his chair, he raised clenched fists to either side of his head and pushed against his skull. His world was in full crash and burn mode, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Where the fuck is Kim Walsh? Find her. Now! And then get me the editor for
Passion
on the phone.”

Marjorie Gardner looked at him and nodded then surprised them both by asking, “Please calm down, and tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

At that moment, they weren’t playing their usual roles with Liam as the powerful tycoon and Marjorie as his trusty right hand. This was different. That she cared was obvious—that it mattered to him was the surprise.

Gathering some flimsy threads of composure, he tried to slow his thundering heart rate before he spoke.

“Why was Rhiann Wilde suspended from
Passion?
”

“Excuse me?” she asked with surprise apparent in her voice. “Suspended? Uh . . .”

He’d never seen his secretary at a loss for words before and frankly watching as she tried to wrap her mind around his question only made the anxiety tightening his insides spike higher. Nothing happened around BPG that she didn’t know about, and it was clear that Rhiann’s suspension had not made its way to her attention.

“What the hell is going on?” he growled. “Fuck!”

She flinched at his language, instantly reminding him that he wasn’t behaving normally. Liam had always been super careful not to show emotion or react outwardly to anything when others were around. Going off the deep end in spectacular fashion wasn’t something either of them expected.

“Um, I spoke to Miss Wilde, sir. The day you left. Everything seemed fine then.”

“What do you mean you spoke to her? Why?”

“She called here—looking for you.”

“Why didn’t she call my private line? She has the number.”

“I asked her that, and she indicated that the information was on her cell phone, but she was calling from a landline and didn’t have it handy.”

He frowned. That was bullshit. Had she been reaching out to him? Oh, god. If someone didn’t tell him what in the hell was going on, and do it soon, shit was going to get ugly.

“What did she want?”

Gardner looked at him a second—like she was replaying the conversation in her head—then said, “I’m not sure. I told her you were in the air and asked if the package you’d sent for delivery had arrived. She said it had and everything was fine. Then when I asked if she’d like to leave a message and she assured me that wouldn’t be necessary. Frankly, sir, I assumed you two talked regularly so I didn’t think any more of it. You know I don’t stick my nose in your personal business.”

Liam thought he might explode. She’d called, but he didn’t know that until now and since then there’d been nothing but silence.
Shit.

The business-hardened tycoon excused himself so the frantic man inside could break free. If anything had happened to her, someone was going to die. Plain and simple.

And then it hit him again. Kim. She was behind this. Had to be since she was the one who approved the suspension. Why hadn’t Roman told him what was going on? Wasn’t he supposed to be watching that crazy bitch?

“None of this leaves this office, understood?”

The older woman shook her head in agreement.

“And don’t bother finding Mrs. Walsh. I’ll deal with her on my own.”

She nodded again.

And then . . . he lost his shit in rather spectacular fashion.

“Find out what happened and do it quietly. Don’t arouse suspicion. And do not under any circumstances give Kim any information. None! Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of everything, Mr. Ashforth.”

“If Rhiann Wilde isn’t in this office before the end of today, jobs are on the line.”

Liam knew he was yelling but didn’t try to dial it back. Gardner blanched as his anger grew.

“I will personally destroy anyone,
ANYONE,
who fucked with her,” he growled with such menace that his behavior even shocked himself.

Roman came crashing through the door while he was in mid-yell. He and Marjorie exchanged worried looks.

“Boss,” he began as he burst in, “calm down. We need to talk.”

Liam was in no mood to calm down and let everyone know it.

“What the fuck, Roman! You were supposed to be on this. Where the hell is she and why is Kim Walsh still breathing?”

Picking up the first thing that came into his line of vision, he hurled his iPhone and bellowed, “Motherfucker,” so loud the walls probably shook.

As his phone broke into several pieces, he roared like an animal as pain infused the anger mushrooming inside him. If she was gone, if anything had happened. . . . it’d kill him.

Frantic and quickly losing control, he turned to the two people staring at him with expressions of utter shock and just . . . fell to pieces.

“Roman?” he said while clutching at his chest again.

As he sank to his knees like a condemned man waiting for death, he heard Marjorie mutter, “Oh dear,” and then, “I’m on it,” to Roman. She touched the man’s arm before turning away from the spectacle he was making and exited quietly, closing the door with care on her way out.

Roman was at his side in a heartbeat and helped him to his feet. Guiding him to the sofa, he pushed Liam to sit then handed him a bottle of water he produced out of thin air.

“Drink this and calm down. It’s not as bad as you think.”

He looked at the man skeptically but did as directed and swallowed half the bottle in one desperate gulp.

“Better?”

He shook his head,
No
. . . but didn’t say anything.

Roman walked to the desk and pressed the intercom. “Marjorie. Find out where Mrs. Walsh is today. Then get Gary on the phone and tell him to get over here ASAP.”

Liam watched and listened as his heart pounded out a frantic rhythm and his stomach churned. He knew Kim was trouble. Why had he left Rhiann on her own? This was his fault—whatever
this
was.

Dropping to a chair across from him, Roman leaned his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands together—fixing Liam with a serious look.

“First of all, she’s fine.”

At Liam’s fierce glare, Roman amended that statement. “Okay, granted. Maybe not fine, but I have eyes on her round-the-clock, so please, Boss, calm yourself. I need you to be present, okay? We’ve got a situation on our hands.”

“Why am I the last to know this?”

“Because there was nothing you could do. The London meetings were important and telling you what was happening here was only going to fuck with your head. I knew that and made the decision to say nothing. All of this upset,” he said with a wave of his hand indicating the scene Liam just caused, “would have been avoided if you’d told me when you were coming home instead of just showing up out of the blue.”

Liam’s mind was careening all over the place. He trusted Roman. Completely. And if he says she’s fine, he had to believe him. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out and closed his eyes for a second.

Concentrate. Focus.
Rhiann . . .

“Okay. I’m okay,” he assured Roman. “But if you want me to keep being okay, I want all the facts.”

“There are a lot of layers in this story, Boss, so if you want it all, just sit there and listen. You can ask questions at the end.”

Liam nodded.

“And I’ve sent for Gary. He’s been my eyes and ears on Walsh.”

Hearing that bitch’s name deepened the scowl on Liam’s face.

“Before you blow a gasket, you should know that her fingerprints are all over this mess. She’s got one alibi after another lined up and even some corroboration for her part of the story that
had
to have been strong-armed.”

Liam finished the bottled water then crushed the plastic in his hand. Was better than putting his fist through a wall.

Roman frowned. “All right. Let’s begin. First of all, are you aware that the press published a photo of you and Kim at the airport together?”

Jesus. What?
The only shot they could have gotten of the two of them was when Kim rubbed all up on him after he got out of the car. Knowing her, she probably tipped off the photographers. Clenching his jaw, he shook his head and waited for Roman to continue.

“Here’s how it all went down—as best as I can piece together. Miss Wilde left town when you did and shortly thereafter, Walsh boarded a plane for Jackson Hole like she always does for Christmas. She had a round trip ticket and was scheduled to return on the thirty-first. Before leaving she told everyone who would listen that she had plans in the city for New Year’s Eve.”

Yeah. None of this sounded out of the ordinary so far. She went to Wyoming for the holidays every year.

“I’m going to throw myself on the fire here because this is where I fucked up.”

Liam arched an eyebrow at Roman’s unexpected admission and wondered what he meant.

“Basically, I took the bait and figured she was off the radar for a bit. It was Christmas, and with you in London, Walsh in Wyoming, and Miss Wilde safe in the bosom of her family, I left my guys in charge here and scheduled a quick holiday turn-around so I could visit my parents. With my dad’s health on the decline, I wanted to surprise them. I arranged to return late on the thirtieth. My thought process was simply to be in place when Walsh came back to town.”

With a tense sigh, Roman stood to remove his suit jacket, flinging it over a chair and rolling back his sleeves. Watching him closely as he also loosened his tie, Liam had the distinct impression that it was time to get down to the dirty.

“Miss Wilde returned from Pennsylvania on the twenty-seventh. My guys let me know when she was back. Thinking Walsh was still out of town, I told them to keep an eye on things and to let me know if anything changed.”

He sighed again and muttered, “And change it did, but nobody knew that. Looking at it now, Walsh was brilliant. By flying commercial, she had an established itinerary that was easy to check out. Only thing was—she flew back private, a few days early.”