Hostage Midwife (7 page)

Nick unlocked the door to his office and held it for her. She shuffled inside and took a seat in a chair beside his desk. Her gaze rested on the double photo of his
two daughters, laughing girls with black hair and eyes as blue as their father’s.

It took Nick only a moment to fire up his laptop and locate the blog. After only a glance, he turned the screen toward her.

The photograph showed her with Nick leaving the Spencer Building. The header said Better Luck This Time?

The first paragraph read, “Kelly Evans, the former Mrs. Ted Maxwell, has
hooked up with well-known bachelor Nick Spencer, whose uncle’s death remains a mystery. Let’s hope Kelly has better luck this time. Her marriage to Maxwell ended when it was revealed that he had a mistress and had been sleeping with his paralegal.”

She hadn’t known.

Chapter Nine

Tuesday, 7:11 p.m.

For a moment, Kelly thought she was going to pass out. Her spine turned to jelly. Spots danced behind her eyelids. Her throat pinched closed.
Remember to keep breathing
. She gasped loudly. “Water.”

Nick dashed from the office. As soon as he was gone, she wondered if she should take this unsupervised opportunity to leap from the chair, barricade
the door and stay here for, say, the next twelve years or so. Could her life possibly be more humiliating? Her ex had been having an affair. Worse, he had a mistress. Even worse, she hadn’t known. Sure, she’d suspected there might be something going on with the cute little paralegal in his office. What was her name? Cheryl, her name was Cheryl, and she seemed like such a nice person. Kelly
groaned. She’d sent flowers—supposedly from Ted, of course—on cute little Cheryl’s birthday.

Nick returned with a coffee mug, half-filled with water. “Here.”

She took a couple of sips and looked up at him. “I wish this was poisonous hemlock.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Maybe a sleeping potion that would knock me out until this blows over. How long will that be? Is there a time limit
for feeling like an idiot?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He leaned down to her eye level. “Your ex is the jerk.”

“Why do men cheat?”

“Not all men do.”

“Did you? Is that why your marriage broke up?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “Forget I said that. It’s none of my business.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you when you’re angry.”

The last thing
she wanted was to insult him, the first man she’d trusted in years. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad to see that you’re not all sunshine and sweetness.” His stunning blue eyes regarded her with a steady, nonjudgmental calm. “To answer your question, I was faithful to my wedding vows, always faithful. And I tried as hard as I could to make the marriage work. But I couldn’t be the man my ex-wife
wanted.”

She couldn’t imagine Nick falling short in any category. Though she didn’t want to pry, she already had her foot in her mouth. Might as well take another bite. “What did she expect from you?”

“Basically, she wanted me to be like my brother.” He stood up straight and checked his wristwatch. “She wanted to be the wife of the CEO, the queen of all things Spencer. And that’s not
my style. I hate corporate red tape. Being in the office five days a week gives me hives.”

“You’d rather be an architect—the creative guy who draws up the plans.”

“Not the man in a suit who cuts the ribbon at the launch of a new project,” he said. “Our split was as friendly as a divorce can be, and we both love the kids.”

“She’s a good mom?”

“I’ve got no complaints. Hell, I
even like her new husband. He runs an investment firm, and he’s one rung away from the top job.” He glanced at his watch again. “I don’t want to rush you, but we have a logistics problem to work out.”

“Logistics?” The shock of reading the blog was beginning to wear off, but she was still feeling the aftershocks. Her brain wasn’t fully functional.

“You need protection,” he said. “Until
we know who’s following you and why, you’re not safe. That means you can’t go back to Serena’s tonight.”

Even in her befuddled state, she understood what he was saying. “I think you’re right about that.”

“I’d like to have you stay with me at my condo. But you could also go to Lauren’s house. She has plenty of room.”

“I pick you.” That was a no-brainer.

“Good choice.” After
he took the coffee mug from her and placed it on the desktop, he grasped both her hands and pulled her to her feet. “I have an appointment in ten minutes. Either I can arrange for someone to take you to my place or you can come with me. The appointment is with Barry Radcliff.”

“What? How did you—”

“He’s the person I called before the Lamaze class. There weren’t any other options. Nobody
answers the Trask phone number, and we don’t have an identity for the other guy.”

Coming face-to-face with Radcliff—a man who had been described as a stone-cold killer—was intimidating, but she was curious about him and his slinky brunette attorney, and she figured nothing bad would happen to her if she was with Nick. “I’ll stick with you.”

“We should go now. He’ll be waiting for us.”

“In his limousine office?”

“Not this time.”

“Good.” She really hated limos.

* * *

O
N
THE
WAY
TO
THE
ELEVATOR
, Nick placed his hand on Kelly’s waist. The color had returned to her face, and her eyes were more focused. More than ever, he wanted to protect this woman. Her flash of temper reassured him; she wasn’t completely defenseless. “We’re going to have a nice dinner with
Radcliff,” he said.

“That’s smart. There’s nothing he can do in front of witnesses.”

“He’s not that kind of thug,” Nick said. “If he meant to do us physical harm, he’d hire an expert. We’ll have dinner, then we’ll go to my place and relax.”

She pushed a sweep of straight brownish-blond hair off her forehead. “Where are we going to eat?”

“The restaurant downstairs.”

“The
fancy place? With the ‘haute cuisine’?”

“Don’t let the tablecloths fool you. They grill a mean rib eye.”

She stepped away from him. “I’m not dressed to go anyplace classy.”

“Nobody’s going to give you a hard time. It’s my name on the building.”

“And you look fine in your tweed jacket and jeans. I’ve been wearing these khakis all day. I’m a giant wrinkle.” She looked down at
the satchel she was carrying. “There’s probably something in here that I can change into. At least I can put on fresh lipstick.”

She darted into the ladies’ room by the elevators.

“Five minutes,” he called after her.

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. Radcliff and his attorney would probably already be seated. Even though the restaurant was Spencer
turf, arriving early gave Radcliff a slight edge in claiming the space, and their encounters were all about who was the boss.

Nick was glad to have another confrontation with Radcliff; it gave him a chance to probe for useful information about his uncle’s death. All day long, he’d been playing the corporate game with Rod Esterhauser and Marian. The results were disappointing. The company
accounts were in worse shape than he’d suspected, due to slow housing starts and even slower payouts on completed projects. If Jared didn’t come back with a big, fat contract from the Singapore company that wanted to open a United States branch, they’d have to make drastic cuts and start letting employees go. He’d learned nothing new about Samuel.

Nobody knew what his uncle had been working
on. They regarded him as a loose cannon, incapable of responsible financial decisions, which was fairly ironic because these same corporate people were delighted to point to Samuel’s innovative and brilliant designs when selling Spencer Enterprises. His talent was one of their secret weapons, but they kept him out of their information loop and vice versa.

If Nick had been in town, the dynamic
might have been different. He and Samuel were usually on the same page. The old man might have confided in him.

The police investigation was equally frustrating. In spite of the left-handed issue, they leaned toward suicide. Nick didn’t agree. The more he thought about his uncle’s death, the more he thought it was murder, an impossible murder.

Kelly emerged from the bathroom. She’d combed
her hair, freshened her makeup and changed into a black leotard and tights that stopped at her ankles. Around her slender waist, she’d tied a long, silky scarf with a swirling pattern of black, gold and purple. On the left side, the fringed hem dipped past her knee. “You look damn good,” he said.

She pushed back her hair to show dangling silver earrings. “I found these in the bottom of my
bag. I was wearing them when I got called to help a woman in labor, stuck them in here and forgot about them. Lucky, huh?”

“That’s a nice bag of tricks you have there.”

“I take it with me when I get a call that someone is in labor. My medical stuff is in a different bag, but this one is sometimes more useful—it’s full of bits and pieces that might come in handy, like the leotard and
the shoes.” She stuck out her foot so he could see her black cloth Chinese slippers.

“They’re not bad. I like to see a woman in high heels. From an engineering standpoint, a heel does good things for the female form. But your form doesn’t need any help. I’ll say it again. You look damn good.”

“Thank you.”

Downstairs in the restaurant, the host showed them to a secluded table near
the back where Radcliff and his attorney were waiting. The former volleyball player cleaned up good in an emerald-green silk blouse with a sparkly necklace and black pencil skirt. Radcliff looked uncomfortable in his suit and necktie, but he was gracious when he greeted Kelly.

She shook his hand and smiled sweetly. “I thought I saw your limousine earlier today.”

“Maybe you did,” Radcliff
said. “I had business in Valiant.”

Undeterred, she pushed her point. “It seemed that you were following me. Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

Radcliff nodded to Nick. “She’s sharp, this one.”

“And persistent,” he said. “Might as well tell her the truth. Then we can move on.”

The attorney spoke up. “Both statements are true. We had another appointment. When we identified
Ms. Evans’s van, we tracked her for a while, hoping she’d meet up with you, Nick, and we could get an update.”

Radcliff gestured expansively. “Sit. Have some wine.”

Nick held Kelly’s chair for her. When she glanced up at him, he noticed the slender arch of her throat and the delicate hollow between her collarbones. Being with her was almost enough to make him forget the other reasons
for talking to Radcliff—almost, but not entirely. He wanted to know the identity of the person Radcliff met with in Valiant today.

The Chardonnay was excellent, and Nick ordered another bottle to go with their shrimp appetizer. The restaurant was about half-full, and the atmosphere was low-key and pleasant. The conversation at their table flowed freely. The two women chatted about childbirth
and career, a topic that required only an occasional nod from Nick and Radcliff. The only telling point was that Radcliff had five children and hadn’t watched any of them being born. Squeamish? That didn’t sound like the vicious killer Rod Esterhauser described. It occurred to Nick that Rod might be building a wall between him and Radcliff.

Their main courses were served—steaks for Nick and
the attorney, chicken for Kelly and a grilled-veggie salad for Radcliff, who was watching his cholesterol. After a few bites, Nick got down to business. “You mentioned that you wanted to see me. Why not just pick up the phone?”

“I wanted to be sure you’d take my call.”

So he threatened Kelly? What kind of messed-up power play was that? “You’ve got my attention. What did you want?”

“It’s no secret that your business is in financial hot water. I can help. I’ll double the loan for six months. If you default, all the Valiant gold is mine.”

“An interesting proposition,” Nick said. One he definitely wouldn’t take. “I have a few questions.”

“Of course,” said the attorney. Whenever the topic veered toward business, she stepped in. Very smooth.

“Since my uncle
didn’t run the money through the usual channels, no one knows what he did with it. We can’t even verify that he received the cash.”

“He insisted on a certain type of cashier’s check,” the attorney said. “I must admit that I was surprised. In this day of automatic transfer, the check seemed oddly old-fashioned.”

“And untraceable,” Nick said. “The money has already been drawn from your
account, but there’s no way of knowing what my uncle did with it.”

That put Nick back to zero. He cut off a piece of rare steak and chewed slowly. Samuel might have hidden the check and never used it. He might have set up a whole new account, a whole new business and spent every penny.

“Another question,” he said. “How did you meet my uncle?”

“He contacted me,” Radcliff said. “He
showed up at my place of business in Denver.”

“Where’s that?” Nick asked.

Before the attorney could stop him, Radcliff answered. “I keep an office on Blake Street, not far from the baseball stadium.”

“What did my uncle say when he showed up?”

“He made the million-dollar proposition. Frankly, I was going to turn him down. I didn’t have any reason to believe anything from this
tall, goofy old guy.” He paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult him, God rest his soul.”

“
Goofy
is accurate,” Nick said. “What changed your mind about making the loan?”

“He brought me here and showed me the gold. I was hooked.”

“It has that effect.” Nick had only one more question. “You said you came to Valiant for a meeting. Are you in contact with anyone else from Spencer Enterprises?”

“Sorry, Nick.” This time the attorney was quick to stop her boss from replying. “We can’t divulge our client list for you or anybody else.”

They finished the meal with Nick promising to consider Radcliff’s offer and to stay in touch. There was hostility between them with the threat of Radcliff taking the Valiant gold if he wasn’t paid back, but their relationship was fairly sanguine.

Now came the good part of the evening. He’d been looking forward to time alone with Kelly. He tucked her into the passenger seat of his SUV and headed toward his condo. “What did you think of Radcliff?”

“He seemed old-fashioned in his attitudes and in the way he does business. I’m guessing that he’s older than he looks, maybe in his sixties. He’s smart to have that attorney with him at
all times. Did you notice that she wasn’t drinking? The lady stayed 100 percent alert.”

“Do you think he had anything to do with my uncle’s death?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Radcliff is determined. And he wants that gold.”