Hotshot (13 page)

N
o one was g
oing to get in Drew’s way on his path to happiness, and happiness for him was money. Randolph Swift’s money to be exact.

It wouldn’t be long before the reins were handed to him, and the only person who could ruin his future was Peyton Lockhart. If she didn’t keep her mouth shut and go away peacefully, he would make sure she went away permanently. He’d worked too hard for this life to let her snatch it from him. A long time ago he had figured out what he wanted. In his mind it was a simple equation. Money equaled power, and power garnered respect. He wanted it all—the wealth, the prestige, the women—and Eileen was helping him. She would go to any lengths to get him what he needed, any lengths at all.

Drew knew he had it in him to be a killer. During his junior year in high school he almost killed his father, and to this day he regretted that he hadn’t. He remembered what had happened with such clarity, even though it had been years. He had come home from school and discovered that dear old Dad had found the hiding place where Drew kept his money. He had been saving for over a year, taking every degrading job he could find to earn a dollar here and there. He was saving to run away, but his father took every bit of the cash to play the numbers and get drunk. Furious, Drew’s temper exploded, and he beat his father until his own knuckles were bleeding and his father was unconscious. Drew got scared that his old man would die in the apartment and he’d be tried for murder, and so he dumped him in front of the hospital. When his father regained his senses and was questioned by the police, he couldn’t tell them anything because he’d been too drunk to remember.

Those rough days were behind Drew now. If Peyton tried to make trouble, Drew wouldn’t have to worry about the method or the place or the mess of silencing her because he had people who would take care of it for him. His knuckles would stay clean.

It had been over a month since Peyton made the recording, and not a peep out of her. Mimi hadn’t said a word, either, but then he’d made it worth her while. The substantial raise he’d given her assured her silence. There was no other company she could go to that would give her the money or the job security she now had at the magazine. With each passing day, Drew became more relaxed, believing that Peyton had forgotten about him and moved on.

Eileen was more cautious. She wasn’t ready to assume the matter had been dropped.

One way to find out, she suggested, was to monitor Mimi’s communications. Since Mimi was Peyton’s friend, the two may have remained in contact.

The e-mail was easy to check. All it took was an adjustment to the company’s computer network so that every time Mimi received a message or sent one Drew saw it. The cell phone presented a problem. Eileen couldn’t figure out how to monitor Mimi’s conversations or her texts, but Drew came up with an easy solution. He knew that Mimi’s cell phone was in the outer pocket of her purse, and her purse was in the bottom drawer of her desk. All he needed to do was get Mimi away from her desk, so he concocted dozens of errands for her to run, especially during the times when no one else was around. He managed to get a peek two or three times a day. He discovered records of a few calls between her and Peyton, but they appeared to be short, and for the most part, Mimi’s texts were boring.

Drew finally convinced Eileen that the danger had passed. He was becoming more and more complacent as the days moved on. He was even ready to train another assistant and had ordered Bridget to place the advertisement.

His smug complacency ended on a Tuesday afternoon, however, when he read Mimi’s latest text to Peyton:
When is your attorney going to file suit?

P
eyton read Mimi’s text but didn’t have time to call her until that evening.

“Why did you send me that text? If Drew saw it, he would go ballistic.”

“I know,” Mimi said apologetically. “I sent the text from home just before I got in the shower, and I was in a rush. The minute I saw it I got rid of it. Drew was in and out of the office all morning, so I don’t think he could have seen it.”

Peyton told her all about her meeting with Mark Campbell and again insisted that she didn’t want to sue the magazine unless it was absolutely necessary. The attorney had made several alternative suggestions for her to consider, but she wasn’t going to do anything about Swift Publications until she got settled in Bishop’s Cove.

There was so much to finish up before she left Brentwood, yet despite all the chaos of the move, she still had time to think about Finn. She hadn’t heard from him since he left her bed, and that, she told herself, was the way it should be. For one amazing night she had connected with the man she cared about, but now she was moving on. If she happened to see him again, that would be fine, and if she didn’t run into him, that would be fine, too.

Yes, fine. She almost talked herself into believing that nonsense. It might have been casual sex for him, but it had been much more than that for her. She missed him, simple as that. She wished she could be more sophisticated about it all, and maybe in time she could. Right now she felt foolish and naive about her vulnerability.

______

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when Peyton drove over Elizabeth Bridge to Dove Island. There was little humidity; the wind was calm, and the temperature was in the low eighties. A perfect day to play at the beach, providing one had plenty of sunscreen.

About two-thirds of the beachfront property on the island had been developed by Scott Cassady, and now sleek high-rise condominiums covered the area, all facing the beach. The other one-third of the island belonged to Bishop’s Cove. There was only one way in or out of the ultra-secluded estate, through an iron gate. A security team manned the gatehouse and monitored every car coming or going.

Peyton recognized the guard on duty, who welcomed her back with a big smile. He pushed the button to open the tall, ornate gates, and she drove into the tropical paradise. On either side were manicured shrubs, which served as backdrops to the lush flowers in full bloom. Giant palm trees lined the long drive that led up to the entrance of a stately four-story hotel. Several streets branched off the main drive. They curved into green foliage and disappeared. One of them led to the two-story condominium building where Peyton would be staying. Another street wound toward the twelve bungalows, each set far enough apart to provide absolute privacy. Though there was room for at least twenty more, Uncle Len hadn’t been in a hurry to build additional units. He liked the Cove the way it was, a peaceful oasis.

As was her ritual after passing through the gates of Bishop’s Cove, she drove straight to the beach. She parked the car and sat there listening to the seagulls complain and the surf lap against the sand. Rolling down the windows, she let the gentle wind brush across her face. She inhaled the wonderful scents of the island, and the tension melted away. Forgotten was the long, tedious drive. She took a deep, cleansing breath and smiled. It was amazing what a change of scenery, temperature, and pace could do. No longer weary, she was in a wonderful mood.

Then Finn called and ruined it. His greeting wasn’t filled with affection. “You are not going back to Dalton, Minnesota. Got that?”

Ignoring the anger in his voice, she wanted to respond that it was about damned time he called her and that it wasn’t his job to dictate what she could and couldn’t do. Instead, she said, “How lovely to hear from you.”

“Peyton, I’m serious. I talked to Mark, and he told me you were considering going to Dalton.”

“I was simply saying that I would love to see Drew and his wife get the boot. I guess that’s vindictive, isn’t it? I’m not actually going to go.”

“Damn right.” It was taking Finn time to get past his worry, and his voice was still harsh.

Although she had no intention of ever returning to Dalton, she didn’t like Finn telling her she couldn’t. She tried not to be annoyed. He was concerned about her, and that was sweet. Unnecessary, but still sweet. “Is that the only reason you called? To yell at me?”

“I wasn’t yelling,” he said, his voice calmer now. “After I spoke to Mark, I started to think that maybe you had lost your mind, and if that were the case, I was going to suggest that you look at the bullet holes in your car to bring you back to reality.”

So much for the gentle breeze and the soothing sounds of the lapping surf. Both irritated her now. “I was in a peaceful mood until you called.”

“Promise me you won’t go near Dalton.”

“I promise. Happy now?”

“Yes, I’m happy now. Okay, then,” he said, his tone brisk. “I’ve got to go. I’m late for a meeting.”

“Where are you?”

“D.C.”

“Finn?”

“Yeah?” He sounded impatient.

“Thanks for worrying about me.”

She disconnected the call before he could argue with her. Her good mood restored, she drove back to the hotel and parked near the entrance to the business office. She gathered her purse and her phone, and was about to head into the hotel when she looked up and saw her cousin, Debi, walking out the door.

What was she doing in Bishop’s Cove? Peyton didn’t open her car door or call out to her cousin. She could barely be civil to the woman, and she was determined to hold on to her peaceful, everything-is-wonderful mood. She watched her get in a blue sedan. Peyton thought Debi was alone, but as her cousin backed out of the parking space, she saw the top of a man’s head. His seat was tilted way back. It had to be Debi’s husband, Sean. Was he sleeping? Peyton wouldn’t be surprised if he was, for Sean was one of the laziest people she’d ever met.

Debi had been smiling. That wasn’t good. The only time her cousin was happy was when she had gotten away with something vile. Maybe this was different, Peyton thought, trying to stay optimistic. She took a breath and talked herself into her calm, peaceful mood again. Everything was fine.

Then she walked into the business office, and her Zen mood flew out the window. Everything wasn’t fine; it was in chaos. Lucy was standing in the doorway of an office at the back of the room barking orders to six employees. She clutched a Pearson Furniture catalog against her chest as she shouted. She looked a fright. Her bangs were sticking up on end; her horn-rimmed reading glasses were tilted precariously on the tip of her nose, and her cheeks were bloodred. Her sweet—most of the time—problem-solving, level-headed sister had turned into a raving maniac.

Peyton was mortified. She quickly said hello to the employees she knew and introduced herself to the rest, then suggested they take off for the evening, promising them it would be much better tomorrow. From the look on Lucy’s face, it couldn’t get worse.

She tackled Lucy next, all but shoving her into the office before shutting the door.

“What is wrong with you? You don’t shout at your staff. That’s horribly disrespectful. You treat them the way you want to be treated.”

Lucy wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “This place is a mess. I’ve done nothing but put out fires since I got here.” She dropped the book on the desk and folded her arms across her chest. “What took you so long? I expected you days ago.”

“I was busy packing your stuff and putting it in storage. What’s with the attitude, Lucy?”

Her sister closed her eyes for a few seconds. “I’m tired,” she admitted.

“What about the general manager? Christopher . . .”

“Ellison,” Lucy supplied. “He doesn’t take suggestions well. I can’t work with him.”

“Uncle Len thinks highly of him.”

Lucy shrugged. That reminder obviously wasn’t important to her. “I won’t fire him, not yet anyway. He needs to know I’m in charge.”

That comment jarred Peyton. “You’re what?”

“I’ve already made some changes . . . necessary changes,” she said. “I’m just so weary of everyone fighting me on every little thing.”

“You need to calm down.”

“You have no idea the pressure I’m under.”

She didn’t want to get into an argument with her sister, so she didn’t call her a drama queen. Instead she asked, “What was Debi doing here? I saw her leaving the office.”

“She wants in on Bishop’s Cove. She said she made a mistake taking the money instead of King’s Landing. You’re not going to believe how much it sold for,” she added.

Peyton recalled that Debi had been smiling when she left the office. She started to get a bad feeling. “What did she do when you told her no?”

Lucy braced herself. “I didn’t tell her no. In fact, I agreed to let her in. The four of us will run Bishop’s Cove.” She put her hand up before Peyton could protest and said, “She’s trying to save her marriage. She told me Sean wanted to run King’s Landing, but she was against it. She wanted the money. She’s sorry about her choice now. They’ve already spent quite a lot of it.”

“No,” Peyton said emphatically. “Debi is not going to be part of this. She’s lying. Sean would never want to run a resort. That would mean he’d have to work.”

Lucy rounded the desk and dropped onto a chair. “It’s done. I’ve made the decision, and you’re going to have to live with it.”

Lucy expected her sister to put up a fight. She was unprepared for her laughter.

“Did Dad call and ask you to let Debi get her way?”

“Yes. You know the drill. Debi will win. She always does. Whatever she wants, she gets by siccing her father, our dear uncle Brian, and our father on us. I gave in to save time.”

“You know it would be a nightmare. She wouldn’t lift a finger; she’d fight over every decision, and Sean is completely useless. You didn’t really believe he wanted to run King’s Landing, did you? No, it’s out of the question.”

Lucy’s lips were pursed. “I already told Dad I’ll let Debi be part of this.”

“When did you talk to him?”

“Just a few minutes ago while Debi was here. She listened in.”

Peyton pulled out her cell phone, hit speed dial, and waited for her father to answer.

“Hi, Dad. Love you,” she began. “I called to let you know that Debi isn’t going to be joining us at Bishop’s Cove. Lucy was having a little nervous breakdown when she agreed. She forgot that it would take all three of us to decide to let Debi in, and neither Ivy nor I would ever do that. Do you want me to call Uncle Brian or will you?”

She was relieved to hear that her father would call his brother and give him the decision but warned Peyton she had better be ready for a fight.

The second she ended the call, Lucy said, “You know this isn’t over. Debi will make all sorts of trouble.”

“She can try,” she said. “Give me her cell phone number.”

A minute later Sean answered. She asked to speak to Debi, but Sean, who had the personality of a three-toed sloth, explained that his wife was too busy to talk.

“That’s okay,” Peyton said in a gratingly cheerful voice. “Just give her a message from me. Tell her she is never going to be part of Bishop’s Cove. We don’t want her . . . or you . . . to have anything to do with this resort. You had your chance to run King’s Landing, and you turned it down for the money. Live with it, Sean. You aren’t touching ours. Bye now.”

Sean was shouting, “Wait . . . wait . . .” as Peyton disconnected the call.

Lucy had stopped frowning and was slowly regaining her sense of humor. “I’ll bet they’re in the car. Debi told me they were staying at a motel off the main highway. She thinks the two of them will move into this hotel . . . free of charge, of course. She’s probably turning around right now. Hope you’re up for the screaming match that’s coming.”

“I’m not going to scream,” Peyton said. “And I’m not in the mood to see them tonight.” She found the resort directory and made one more phone call to the gatehouse, informing the security guard that Debi and Sean Payne were not allowed in, no matter what reason they gave.

“That’s not going to deter them,” Lucy scoffed. “They’ll park at one of Cassady’s high-rises and walk the beach to get to us.”

“It’s a very long walk, and it will slow them down. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Their two phones rang at the same time.

Lucy picked hers up and looked at the screen. “Sean’s calling me.”

“Debi’s calling me,” Peyton said.

Both sisters turned off their phones as they walked out the door.