Bittersweet Chocolate (44 page)

“Hey, who’s trying to treat who like an invalid. I’m fine, and I sure as hell can’t rest until we resolve this problem. Okay?”

“Fine, we all do what we have to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked irritably.

“Listen, everybody is on edge. Just take it easy.” She broke the connection and tapped out the numbers for her office.

“Megan, it’s Marissa. How’s it going there?”

“Matthew didn’t come in today. Everything is fine.”

“Hmm, not there...did he call in?”

“Yeah, said he was sick, and I hope he is.”

“Well, don’t worry about him. Just remember what I told you. I’m your boss.”

“Thanks. I promise to call if he bothers me again.”

Shaking her head, Marissa left her room, reflecting on her conversation with Megan.

Matthew...Matthew...Matthew, as old as you are, you never learn.

It wasn’t until she neared the kitchen that the quiet of the house penetrated. With so many houseguests, there should be noise. Hmm. She could account for Christopher and Anthony, but no one else. In the kitchen, its only occupants were Kate and Clarisse.

“Kate?”

“Said they had errands.”

Curious about the alleged errands, Marissa knew she wouldn’t get any answers from the men. They assumed they were protecting her, in their man way. Well, they’d learn, soon enough, not to underestimate her abilities. Shrugging off their asinine behavior, she joined Clarisse at the table.

“What’s everyone up to, Clarisse?”

“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea. They have some archaic belief the little women can’t help. After meeting you, I think they’re wrong to leave you out of their plans.” She shook her head. “I tried to convince them.”

Surprised by this speech, Marissa took her first good look at her mother-in-law, realizing she hadn’t been receptive to the woman since her arrival. Too late now. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. What would you like to do today?”

“Can we take the babies out for a walk? It’s such a nice day,” Clarisse said.

“I have a better idea. Kate can put together a picnic lunch and we’ll go to the park. We’ll be home long before the men return.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, going so far from the house?” Kate asked.

“We’ll be okay. I’ll take the station wagon so the dogs can come along.” She left Clarisse and Kate preparing the picnic basket and went upstairs to the nursery.

After dressing Kristen and Korey, she put them in carrier car seats and packed a diaper bag with everything she’d need for an outing. Kate helped carry the twins out to the station wagon and buckled them onto the back seat. When Clarisse brought the picnic basket to the car, Marissa loaded the vehicle, and waited for the dogs to clamber into the rear. She closed the tailgate, slid behind the wheel, and drove away.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she could see Kate standing in the driveway wringing her hands. Kate thought Marissa going so far from the house was foolish, but she couldn’t tell Kate what her plans were, because the housekeeper would have tried to stop her.

* * * *

Tristan returned home and a frantic Kate met him halfway between the car and the front door. “Tristan, thank God.” She clutched his arm.

“Kate.” He seized her shoulders, his fingers digging into flesh. “Kate, what’s wrong?”

“They’re gone.” Her grip on him tightened. “I tried to talk her out of going.”

A sickening wave of panic welled up inside as he listened to her disjointed dialogue. Angry and afraid, he tried to maintain his composure. “The dogs. Kate, did she take the dogs?” he shouted, unable to hold on to his facade.

Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes and she nodded. Anger riding him hard, and unable to think clearly, he was grateful when Christopher took charge.

“Tristan, I’ll drive, give me directions.”

The three brothers climbed back into the car and headed for the park. “Chris, it’s a large park. It could take hours to locate them. I’m going to kill her when I find her.”

“Tristan, Mom, and your ever present Dobies are with her,” Anthony said. “Calm down, she’ll be all right.”

* * * *

Christopher felt an acute sense of unease, but remained quiet during most of the drive. A short distance from the park, he spoke briskly. “When we reach the park, we’ll split up. Meet back at the car in a half hour whether we’ve found them or not.” Tristan and Anthony nodded agreement. “Wait a minute. Tristan, don’t you have a whistle like Marissa’s?”

“Damn, I’m losing it. How could I have forgotten the whistle?” he grumbled. “You know, the whole idea of having dogs around the babies, especially Dobermans, had bothered me when Marissa first broached the subject. But now...” He stopped. “Sorry, I’m rambling, but the dogs are one of our best investments,” he finished quietly.

Christopher didn’t say anything, because he recognized the signs. Of the six boys, as a child, Tristan had been too calm, and too rational in dealing with most of life’s trials. He had scared their parents with the way he’d go from extreme calm to ferocious, in a heartbeat, if he cared enough about something.

They arrived at the park, but never had a chance to use the whistle. Their mother, the babies, and the dogs were in the parking lot. Marissa wasn’t. The brothers climbed out of the car. Jaw clenched, Tristan gritted out, “Mom, where’s Marissa?”

Startled, Clarisse whirled around, her relief visible. “Oh, my God, thank the Lord you’re here!”

“Mom, what is it, where’s Marissa?” Tristan shouted.

Christopher put a hand on his shoulder. Tristan took a deep breath, nodded, and stepped back.

“She’s gone, Tristan. I waited and waited, couldn’t leave. She has the key. She never returned from the restroom.” Clarisse turned to Christopher and grasped his arm. “Do something. Please, do something,” she urged.

Christopher laid his hand on hers and looked at Anthony. “Get Tristan’s key. Leave the dogs and take Mom and the babies back to the house. Calm her down. See if you can find out what happened, and try to find Dad and Stephen—hell. Stephen is going to go ballistic.” He helped his mother into the car. “Have everyone wait until Tristan and I return. I want to look around the park.” Anthony nodded and a look passed between them.

Christopher knew neither of them believed they would find Marissa alive. If the perpetrator had the balls to snatch her in daylight, nothing would divert him now that he had his intended target. Her life wasn’t worth spit to the perp.

He watched Tristan walk away, his body language exemplifying anger. For a brief moment, Christopher hoped Marissa would come walking up to Tristan, with major attitude, prepared to throw down to get her point across. If she had appeared at that moment, he would have gladly taken her side. Gut instinct told him it wouldn’t turn out that way.

Anthony had driven away before Christopher approached Tristan. Pausing a few feet away, he glanced around, trying to estimate the time it would take the two of them to cover the distance around the park.

“Tristan.”

He turned, looked at Christopher, then down at the Dobies, and nodded. “Good idea. If she’s still in the park, and all right...” His voice quavered. “She’ll use her whistle, thinking the dogs are still here.”

They walked around the park twice, but nothing. After checking the restrooms, they gave up. It was a quiet ride home. Tristan had become more withdrawn, Christopher didn’t know what to say, and he dreaded the ordeal to come. Marissa’s father was an unknown. If the man was anything like his daughter, how could he keep Stephen from killing somebody? Hell. He wanted to take this son of a bitch out, personally—
whoa.

Dumbfounded by his thoughts, Christopher pulled onto the driveway, put the gear in park, and remained behind the wheel, staring out the window. He heard Tristan leave the car, but he still didn’t move. Damn, he needed a reality check. For him to become so emotionally vested in anything was out of character. His personal and business lives never intersected before, and this shit didn’t get any more personal than an attempt on his baby brother’s life, and a serious threat to Tristan’s family. Nonetheless, he needed to maintain his professionalism.

He snorted. Oh-kay, he could do personal, in a professionally proficient manner.

Christopher climbed out of the car and went inside. Stephen, Vi, Clarisse, and Daniel were present, but no sign of Tristan.

“He came in, didn’t say a word, and went straight to his den, closing the door behind him,” Vi told him. “The stricken look on his face broke my heart.”

Christopher didn’t think she realized she was crying. He moved in front of her, opened his arms, and without hesitation, she stepped into his embrace.

“Christopher, did you find out anything about my daughter?” Stephen’s voice was tight and a ferocious light of anger burned in his amber eyes.

“Not a damn thing, I’m sorry to say.”

“Chris, don’t you think we should call the police,” his mother suggested.

“Mom, what the hell can they do that Tony and I can’t do?” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Vi.

“Chris, your mother is upset, and I’m sure she doesn’t realize what she’s saying.” Daniel gave his wife a hug, and said quietly, “Clarisse, he spoke to the police about Tristan’s shooting, but this isn’t something he wants the police blundering into, and getting it wrong.

“Chris and Tony will handle things from this point,” he explained. “Honey, go upstairs, help Kate with Korey and Kristen.”

Christopher released Vi, who glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed, before she eased away. “I’ll go help your mother,” she mumbled.

“I’m going to talk to Tristan,” Stephen said. “Maybe I can convince him that he’s not to blame. No one could ever control Marissa. We’ll find her.” Stephen left the kitchen, his words hanging in the air.

Christopher wondered who Stephen was trying to convince.

* * * *

Stephen walked away, shaking his head. How could he help his daughter when he didn’t live in California and didn’t have the resources he had on the East Coast? The Corbett’s better find the little bastard before he did.

He knocked on the door and entered the den without waiting for a response. He didn’t think he’d get one. What he saw as he stepped over the threshold gave new meaning to his respect for his son-in-law. Tears streamed down Tristan’s face and he didn’t attempt to hide them. But, beneath that disconsolate look, Stephen recognized an underlying rage burning in the glistening turquoise gaze.

“Tristan, Marissa is going to be okay. She’s tough, she doesn’t take shit from anybody.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tristan cried out, resting his elbows on his desk. “This bastard has come at the twins, he shot me. What’s to stop him from killing her? She’s the one he’s after.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “We both know she’ll fight back, giving him no choice, he’ll have to kill her.”

Stephen sighed and dropped down in the chair in front of the desk. “True, I hoped to convince myself,” he said softly. “Tristan, what if it’s not Joel? Is there anyone else who would want to hurt her?”

* * * *

Tristan’s head came up.
Huh?
What Stephen just said—no wait, something Marissa had said yesterday?

“You know, when Marissa came to the hospital, she said something similar. She had an idea, but she never had a chance to tell me. I think she guessed―no, she knew. Why the hell didn’t she tell me her suspicions?” he shouted and slammed his fists down on the desktop. He stood and started pacing.

The Corbetts burst into the den. “What’s going on?” Daniel inquired.

Stephen explained.

“Tristan, sit down, try to remember everything she said to you yesterday,” Christopher said.

“We didn’t really talk much.” He felt the heat slither up his neck and strafe his cheeks as he remembered what they had done had required little conversation. “But I think she knew, or suspected something, and this morning on the phone, damn, she thinks she’s protecting me and the twins.”

“Think, Tristan,” Christopher urged.

Hours passed without Tristan being able to reveal anything helpful. Vi and Clarisse rejoined the men, and Kate brought coffee and sandwiches. Just before midnight, Tristan excused himself and went up to the nursery with an urgent need to reassure himself that nothing had happened to the babies. And he needed to feel close to Marissa.

Entering the nursery, he found Korey awake, smiling, and cooing at the motion of the mobile above his head. He sat in the nursery for some time, trying to clear his mind of everything except conversations he’d had with Marissa since the trouble began.

He must have fallen asleep.

* * * *

Consciousness returned slowly.

A gag stretched tightly across her mouth bit into the corners. Her lips were parched, cracked, and tasted of blood. Her tongue felt thick and fuzzy. And that pounding in her head...wicked.

Jaw clenched, Marissa cautiously opened her eyes to find herself enveloped in darkness. Was it nighttime? How long had she been unconscious? She didn’t see who had knocked her out, but her present dilemma, identical to before—the bonds, the gag—her ruminating skidded to a halt. Her last conscious thoughts lunged to the fore of her mind with abrupt clarity―the park. Where were her children, what had happened to her mother-in-law?

A sudden stab of anxiety culminated in a sickening wave of terror welling up inside. They couldn’t, he wouldn’t have.

The convulsive flexing of her fists finally registered and she relaxed her hands. Hell. When had she become such a wuss? Before Joel, words like fear and anxiety had never been part of her vocabulary. At least, she never willingly acknowledged them. After Joel, it took years to regain her mastery over such emotions, and this was not the time to wimp out when lives were at stake. He’d already shot Tristan.

Taking a deep breath, she coolly assessed her situation.

Hands bound under the weight of her body, she tested the strength of the rope. Twisting and pulling, she winced as the coarse bonds scraped her wrists, chafing her skin. Good sense told her to stop, thrashing about only made it worse, but she wasn’t one to give up easily.