Authors: Stella Barcelona
“You don’t have to do either. As a matter of fact, it might be best if you stayed home tonight.”
“No,” she said. “I will not do that. Would you ask Lloyd to prepare comments for me and drop them by my house at five? I’ll go with whatever he writes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She broke the connection, not waiting for a reply.
She nodded to the Black Raven security agent, who had walked a few steps away to give her some space as she talked on the phone. Serious brown eyes glanced at her. He looked to be about her age. He was slim and fit, he stood ramrod straight, and he wore a firearm, in plain view, on a holster at his hip. He’d been nice to her as he had driven her to the hospital that morning, speaking calmly and reassuring her that Andi would be fine.
“Robert, right?”
He nodded.
“Would you mind giving me a ride home?”
Robert still had Brandon’s car. There was a faint trace of Brandon’s cologne in the warm car. Taylor hadn’t heard from him. When they arrived at Taylor’s house, Sebastian was downstairs, directing two agents at the control panel of her alarm system. Sebastian turned to her.
“Brandon told me that Joe called with news that there was GHB in Collette’s system,” he said.
She nodded. “I guess it would have been too much for Brandon to call and ask me whether I’m all right after hearing the godawful news that my friend didn’t commit suicide, that she was murdered, and maybe his brother did it?”
Sebastian frowned. “We need to talk.”
“About Brandon?”
He nodded.
She folded her arms. “Talk.”
Sebastian walked towards the kitchen, away from the other agents. Taylor followed. Carolyn was fixing a tray of sandwiches. Fresh fruit was in colanders. “It sure seems like all these men who are working here should be fed.” Carolyn’s dark brown eyes glanced at Taylor. “How is she?”
“Sedated. Thank God.”
“Are you all right?”
Taylor nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Carolyn.”
Sebastian helped himself to a bunch of grapes, ate a few, then said, “Has Brandon ever talked to you about Amy?”
She shook her head. “No. I know a little about the accident though.”
“He loved her like nothing I’ve ever seen. Not sappy love. Just good, deep, make-love-everyday kind of love.”
She wondered how a friend could know so much about the inner workings of a relationship. “Did he tell you that?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No. It only seemed that perfect to me. It was soulmate kind of love,” he shrugged. “Hell. I’m not doing it justice. For everyone who knew them, it was what we all wanted.”
“Why is this relevant to what’s happening now?”
“You asked me why Brandon hadn’t called you to deliver bad news.”
“I didn’t ask why. I observed that he didn’t.”
“This is why.”
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me,” she said, “because all I’m getting is that Brandon and Amy had a relationship that’s impossible to follow.”
Sebastian held her gaze with a serious look. “Not impossible, but I’d say damn hard. That’s why it took him so long. You see, Brandon knew Amy was the right one for him, from the minute he met her. I think he thought that about you, but he hadn’t admitted it to himself. He fell for you, until he caught a load of your father’s crap, and watched you with your father.” Taylor flinched with the reality of Sebastian’s words. He continued, “Then he realized that you’d always have divided loyalties. He’s not going to set himself up for disappointment. He’s my best friend, Taylor, and I understand that. I watched him shatter when Amy died. The only reason he didn’t kill himself in the years right after her death,” he paused, “is because he watched his father commit suicide and he believes that it’s the coward’s way out.”
Taylor’s heart ached for Brandon. “Why are you telling me this?”
He ate a few more grapes as he studied her. “Because I can’t imagine that you’re not in love with him. In case you haven’t figured it out, he’s that great. He’s a one-in-a-million kind of guy. You’ll never find anyone with a stronger moral compass, more integrity, or more capacity for love. So, if you have feelings for him, give him a chance. If you do that, he’ll fight for you. Choose him over your father, or,” he paused, “let him go. I love the guy. I can’t stand to see him hurting. He’s done that for too long.”
She thought of her plan. Public exposure of the Hutchenson letter wasn’t only a tool to diffuse years of lies. It wouldn’t just steal the power from the man who was using it to extort HBW. Her heart raced, because, if she had the courage to do what she intended, Brandon Morrissey was going to figure out that she was worth the fight. She studied Sebastian. “I’ve got to attend the gala tonight at the World War II museum.”
He nodded. “Robert told me about it. I advise against it.”
“The real threat begins tomorrow. Right? His message on Andi’s back,” Taylor shuddered, “was that if his demand was not met by July 4th, then more people would be harmed, correct?”
Sebastian nodded. “That’s what he said. But I don’t trust that he’ll wait until tomorrow.”
She folded her arms. “Not attending is not an option.”
“The risks are too great. I don’t control the site, I have no idea what kind of security is in place,” he glanced at his watch, “and it’s already after three. I can’t guarantee that you’ll be safe, and that’s what you’re paying me for.”
She heard him, loud and clear. “I’ll assume the risk.”
Serious eyes held hers. “I was worried that you’d say that. I have a rent-a-tux guy coming,” he glanced at his watch, “soon. I’m going to accompany you with three of my agents, but you have to be careful, stay close, and keep your eyes on me and my guys.”
“I’m slated to give a short speech at 7:15.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
Taylor gave a silent prayer for courage. She would need it. She looked into the eyes of Brandon’s best friend. A direct gaze and unsmiling expression revealed serious undercurrents to his blue-eyed good looks. He seemed genuinely concerned about the situation that had evolved between her and Brandon.
“You might want to make sure that Brandon is there for my speech.”
She turned, walked out of the kitchen, and went upstairs. Taylor stripped, climbed into a hot bath, and, facing sudden exhaustion, fell asleep in the tub. She stirred when she felt Carolyn’s hand on her shoulder. “Taylor,” she said, “It’s time to get dressed.”
Chapter Twenty
At five thirty, Brandon was elbow deep in property records of the Orleans Parish Office of Mortgages and Conveyances, with four lawyers and two paralegals from the Morrissey Firm, when Sebastian walked in, wearing a tux. Brandon and his people were manually searching property transfer files for the last six months, using Victor’s aliases that Sebastian had provided, hoping that they’d find a property transfer to one of the names. If they found property that Victor had acquired, it would at least give them a place where they might find Victor. They had been at it for two hours, as soon as Marvin’s wife’s second-cousin, director of janitorial services for City Hall, had opened the door.
Brandon said, “No luck yet.”
Sebastian sat next to him. “It’s a shot in the dark, anyway.”
“Well, that’s fucking inspiring,” Brandon said.
“He could be using a hotel room. The property transfer clues may lead nowhere.”
Brandon shook his head. “No. He’s got to have a place. He tortured Andi. No one could do that in a hotel room, or anywhere that someone might hear him. He wouldn’t risk renting,” Brandon said. “There’s too many questions. Too many eyes. I’ve had my lawyers double-check the work of your agents. The neighboring parishes all have conveyance records that are on line. He didn’t buy property in any of those parishes,” Brandon opened another conveyance book, “so it has to be here, in this colossal disorganization.”
“Taylor is insisting on going to that fundraiser tonight.”
Brandon opened another conveyance book. His pulse picked up with the thought of Taylor, but he shook his head. “She hired you, so officially it isn’t my problem.”
Sebastian leaned closer to Brandon. “I would like you to go, even if just for a little while. I could use a hand tonight, because I can’t guarantee her safety there. I’ve told her that, and she’s insisting on going. The museum isn’t my site. I don’t control it and I haven’t had time, or personnel, to do the necessary work.”
Brandon glanced around the room. From his assessment, it had taken them two hours to go through one-fourth of the records that they needed to search, transaction by transaction, title by title, page by page. The work was beyond tedious, but his gut told him that this was the only way they were going to find his brother.
“I’m busy.”
“Yeah,” Sebastian said, “busy avoiding your feelings for her.”
Brandon didn’t know what to say, because the truth was he had no words for how amazing Taylor made him feel, when they were having sex and when they weren’t. God. He’d even managed to sleep with her in his arms. She was a soothing tonic that he’d never have enough of, and that was exactly the way he’d felt about Amy, from the moment he met Amy until the moment she died. At least, that was how he felt about Taylor, until he watched her with her father. Then he wanted no more.
Sebastian continued, “One of her best friends is dead, likely killed by your fucking brother.”
Brandon couldn’t deny it. Joe had also told him that due to the interstate nature of the kidnapping offense against Andi, the FBI was getting involved. Joe expected a team to be assembled by the evening, and he wanted Brandon and Sebastian to be at the station when they did a task force briefing.
Sebastian added, “And thanks to your brother, another of her friends is tortured. Taylor is figuring out that everything that she’s ever been told about her family history is a lie, that her family is the bad guys, not the good guys. I’d think that if you cared for her, you’d at least be there for her tonight.”
“That’s what her father is there for,” Brandon said, remembering the morning, on the levee, when George had stayed at Taylor’s side, virtually squeezing Brandon out of the equation. “It’s difficult to get around him, when she listens to everything that he says.”
“You’re hardheaded,” Sebastian said. “She’s up to something. I have no idea what. She’s giving a speech tonight. At seven-fifteen. She told me you should be there for it.”
His heart pounded. “Why?”
“Hell if I know,” Sebastian stood. “But even aside from whatever Taylor has up her sleeve, hasn’t it occurred to you that your brother might be mingling in the crowd tonight, planning what he’s going to do to the woman with whom you’ve fallen in love? You might recognize him, even if he’s in disguise.”
Brandon instructed his lawyers to keep looking. At six ten, he was in his car, headed home. By six-forty-five, he was showered and dressed in a tuxedo. He kissed Michael goodbye, then arrived at the museum at five minutes past seven.
***
As Taylor put the finishing touches on her make-up, Carolyn handed her the comments that had been delivered to the house on Lloyd Landrum’s behalf. Taylor scanned the comments, then put the piece of paper to the side. Carolyn helped her step into the red dress and zipped it for her. She slipped on the high heels, retrieved her handbag from the previous night, read, then reread the Hutchenson letter, and tucked it in the handbag that went with her dress.
One minute, two minutes, three minutes, four.
The museum sparkled, people were beautiful, voices filled the atrium, and cocktails flowed. Taylor mingled with guests, with Black Raven agents and HBW security at her side. The security personnel were discrete, yet still a presence. At six forty-five, Taylor sat at her father’s table. He gave her a nod as he talked to the guests at the table.
Taylor observed him, wondering how much strength it took for him to behave as though nothing was wrong, because he was doing it really well. It took every bit of her willpower to act naturally, and still she was unable to focus on anything that anyone said. Conversation was impossible. All she could think of was her speech, and how her father was going to react. She glanced around the atrium, hoping that she’d see Brandon. She didn’t. At a couple minutes after seven, she stood, walked into the backstage area, and, with shaking hands and a nervous ball of fear rising in her throat, she watched Lloyd Landrum approach the podium and waited for him to introduce her.
***
His pulse raced as he followed Taylor backstage. Sexual desire was rare for him, but she made him rock hard. Neither Collette nor Andi had been his type. Collette was too petite and Andi too boy-like thin. Taylor, though, was perfect, with thick golden hair that spilled past her shoulders, a small waist, a slender neck, and curves that he’d love to abuse. Some people called his sexual proclivities deviant.
He called it fun.
The blood-red halter dress accented her small waist and her much-more-than-a-handful breasts. He’d like nothing more than to fuck the lights out of George Bartholomew’s daughter, with George watching.
A simple tuxedo and an earpiece, one that he’d taken from the stash that was being used by the HBW Security Team, was all that he needed to look like event security. It gave him the added benefit of hearing the agents talk to each other. As security, no one questioned the tell-tale bulge of a pistol under his tuxedo jacket.