Wicked Burn (37 page)

Damn it all, if Niall wasn’t back to being as elusive as ever. She wasn’t answering her cell phone. She wasn’t at her loft in Chicago—or if she was, she didn’t pick up when the doorman rang her several times at Vic’s request. He’d never actually been inside Niall’s personal office in the museum, but he’d met her a few times in the more public work space where her administrative assistant, Kendra Phillips, worked. He’d met Kendra on those occasions, but the vivacious blonde’s desk was empty when Vic showed up that afternoon. Thinking she most likely was at lunch, he’d wandered down to the upscale restaurant housed inside the museum in order to think.

As to what the hell had happened two nights ago in his bedroom . . . Vic was still busy puzzling that one out. When he’d watched Niall come out of the bathroom, a flicker of panic had gone through him when he registered the expression on her face. Had he hurt her physically? He’d been far from gentle with her there at the end, but she’d seemed just as eager and wild for the ride as he was. The realization that he might have harmed her caused a wrenching sensation in his gut.

Then she’d asked that question about the sex toys, and his uncertainty had spiraled into confusion, which eventually progressed into a vortex of regret. What had made him pull sex toys out of the closet at
that
moment, for Christ’s sake?

He’d hardly left her feeling secure with their relationship, after all.

You told her the only relationship that existed between you was a sexual one
.
You told her that what had happened between you before was a brief, nearly forgettable relationship of convenience
, he reminded himself bitterly.
Not
a brilliant move before subjecting her to the type of sex that requires the deepest form of trust. What’s more, why had he done such a thing right after she’d revealed something as intimate as the fact that she’d had a child . . . that she’d lost a child?

All in all, Vic was starting to understand all too well why Niall had fled up to her room the other night and come downstairs several minutes later, fully dressed. He’d tried to stop her, but in the end there’d been nothing he could do but watch her get in her car and pull out of the driveway—unless he bodily restrained her.

He’d tried to reach her on her cell phone several times yesterday and this morning, only to grow sick with frustration every time he heard her recorded voice repeat the same lines over and over again.

Vic had been talking with an equally concerned Meg on Sunday evening when the phone rang in the kitchen. The way that Meg glanced at him immediately when she answered gave him his first clue that Niall was on the other end of the line. He’d approached Meg and held out his hand tensely, but Meg had just shaken her head as she spoke to Niall.

When she said good-bye and hung up before Vic could grab the phone, he had stared at her in open-mouthed shock.

Damn if he’d ever be able to understand women! First Meg was pushing Niall on him when he wasn’t ready, and now she was leashing him when he was straining at the bit to talk to her.

“What’d you do that for? You knew I wanted to talk to her,” he’d accused incredulously.

“I know, Vic . . . but she said . . . she said she was
fine
. She . . .” Meg had swallowed and glanced away uncomfortably. “She said she didn’t want to talk to you right now.”

“What else did she say?” Vic had demanded after a tense silence.

“She asked me to cancel her class tomorrow.” She must have noticed Vic’s reaction, because she added quickly, “But she assured me that she would be back for Wednesday’s class. She said she just needed a little time . . .”

But Vic had been too worried about Niall to give her time. He’d gotten into his truck before dawn had fully broken after a sleepless night and driven up to Chicago to try to find her . . . to try to make things right.

If that was possible . . .

The bartender who approached him looked wary when he noticed the scowl on Vic’s face.

“Can I get you something, sir?”

“Scotch on the rocks.”

He glanced around the crowded restaurant blankly. The bar was the only place that had seating. The museum was filled with tourists. Even though she worked here, it suddenly struck Vic that there wasn’t a more unlikely place to locate Niall than this restaurant.

Maybe he’d try to call Niall’s friend Anne Rothman. She might have a clue as to where Niall might have gone. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Surely he still had Anne’s number—

“Don’t I know you?” a man sitting several chairs down from him at the bar asked.

Vic’s gaze ran over the man. He wore a preppy pink button-down and a dark blue blazer with anchors on the gold buttons. A flicker of irritation went through him when he recognized the man’s face.

“No,” he stated flatly before he flipped open his cell phone, pointedly ignoring the intrusion.

The dark-haired man stood and grabbed his drink before he scooted closer down the bar. “No, I
do
. I’ve met you before—”

“Don’t think so.”

The man’s puzzled transformed into recognition. “Hey, you’re that jerk who ran me out of Niall Chandler’s place.”

Vic gave him a blazing glare of irritation that made speech unnecessary.

Evan Forrester’s pique melted when he saw it. He plopped down into the chair next to Vic’s.

“Ahh, I got nothing agains’ you, I guess,” Evan said. “Niall Chandler’s the kind of woman who turns all men into raving lunatics. You’d think I’d have learned by now to avoid a woman that beautiful.” He took another long draw on his martini and held up the empty glass as a signal for the bartender to get him another.

“She wouldn’t have anything to do with me after that night. She’s a cold one. If I’d a known about her history, I would a steered clear of her. Woman like that’s gotta be a bit . . .” Evan paused and twirled his finger next to this temple. “Still, she’s so gorgeous . . . and despite that frigid thing she’s got going on, she really doesn’t seem too crazy at all,” Evan conceded thoughtfully. “Hope you were luckier than me getting her into the sack, pal.”

Vic felt torn between wanting to hammer the guy’s preppy, drunken face and refraining from the instinct because he needed him conscious in order to explain what he’d just said.

“What’d you mean about her
history
?” he asked, ignoring the bartender as he set his Scotch in front of him and pinning Evan Forrester with his stare.

Evan raised his black eyebrows significantly. “Guess you never got around to getting to know your pretty neighbor too well, huh?”

That flipped Vic’s “pissed off” switch quicker than he cared to admit. He leaned forward a mere half inch, his eyes boring into Evan.

“I asked you a question.”

Evan’s eyes widened.

“Oh, right.” He laughed too loud, his eyes finding the bartender to check the progress of his martini. “Nobody ever told me the story, either. Niall’s got lots of loyal soldiers around her. But even Niall Chandler Sr. isn’t powerful enough to hush up all the facts about his little princess.

“I read about it in the newspaper a few days ago. Seems that even Niall’s daddy can’t keep the press from reporting the fact that his grandson’s murderer has the dubious honor of being the only man on death row for which the Illinois General Assembly lifted the moratorium on execution. And they’re going to be doing it” —Evan checked his watch drolly—“oh, in about two hours or so.”

“Grandson’s murderer?” Vic managed with the little air he had left in his lungs. Niall had told him that she was an only child. Surely the son that Niall told him had died hadn’t been
murdered
—

“Yeah, Niall’s kid. Matthew Manning opened fire in front of a preschool about four years ago. Killed seven people, a good portion of them children. Seems Manning was sore about the fact that the courts had granted custody of his five-year-old exclusively to his wife. Go figure, right?” Evan muttered before he reached for the fresh martini that the bartender put down in front of him and took a drink.

Vic resisted an urge to grab the glass from the man’s hand and shake the rest of the story out of him. “The papers said Manning’s kid’s preschool teacher gave testimony about Manning pitching a fit and scaring the kids at school half to death a year before the shooting occurred. She wouldn’t let Manning’s son leave with him while he was so out of control. Manning paid the teacher back a year later by making her one of the victims of the bloodbath.”

“In Barrington? Is that where this happened?” Vic asked, referring to the affluent western Chicago suburb.

He vaguely recalled hearing the horrific story on the news. He’d been living in Montana at the time but the national news had covered it not only because of the violence and the number of deaths, but also because so many of those who died had been innocent preschoolers. It had been one of those news stories that left you feeling confused, raw, and bitter about the potential nature of your fellow human beings.

No
. Niall’s little boy had died on that fateful day? It was too much for Vic to wrap his mind around at that moment. He wasn’t sure that he ever would be able to—

“Yep. It was in Barrington all right. Niall was there.”

Vic stared at this man who was almost a complete stranger to him. It felt like ice water was being poured down over his head at a trickle but was reaching the inside as well, flowing slowly but steadily both down his skin and straight into his veins at once.

“Niall was there,” he repeated flatly. “On the day that some madman opened fire and killed her four-year-old son along with six other people?”

Evan nodded, obviously enjoying being the one to impart such juicy gossip. “Along with another dozen or so who were wounded. Yeah, Niall saw the whole thing. He fired into a crowd of people—the kids, parents dropping them off, teachers. I don’t know what happened to Niall’s husband after the boy’s murder, but he must have split or—”

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk about things that you haven’t got the vaguest clue about, Evan,” a feminine voice accused abruptly.

Vic’s head swung around. Kendra Phillips stood behind them, a wrathful look on her round face.

“Hi, Kendra. Don’t you look nice today,” Evan greeted her smoothly, taking only a microsecond to compose himself after getting caught spreading rumors like a teenage girl.

“One of Niall’s soldiers,” Evan muttered under his breath to Vic.

The scowl still lingered on Kendra’s usually amiable face when she turned to Vic. “Hey, Vic. Do you mind coming with me for a minute? There’s something I want to discuss with you . . . in private,” Kendra added with a pointed glance at Evan.

Evan shrugged insouciantly and took another draw on his martini. Vic stood and threw a twenty on the bar before he followed Kendra out of the restaurant. Once they were walking down the dimly lit corridors of the museum, she turned and smiled at him apologetically.

“Sorry for dragging you away like that. Evan Forrester is a real pain in the—”

“Yeah, I know,” Vic interrupted impatiently. “But he was telling me more about Niall than anyone else ever has, including Niall. Do you know where she is, by the way?”

Niall wouldn’t attend Matthew Manning’s execution by herself, would she?

Kendra looked startled. “I haven’t talked to her for two weeks, when she called to check in on things. Isn’t she on the farm?”

“She left yesterday. I’ve been looking for her, but she’s not at her loft and she’s not here.”

“Did something happen?” Kendra asked cautiously.

“We had a misunderstanding,” Vic admitted after a few seconds. He sensed Kendra studying him inquisitively. She obviously cared about Niall, and Vic knew that Niall considered her a friend. “Listen, Kendra . . . about what Forrester was saying back there . . .”

Kendra nodded suddenly, as though she’d just made a decision. “Just a second, Vic. There are some things I want to talk to you about,” she said. She went to her desk and unlocked a drawer, then pulled out a set of keys. She tilted her head for Vic to follow her.

Vic realized with vague surprise that Kendra led him back to Niall’s office.

 

 

A few seconds later Vic followed her into Niall’s office. The large, comfortable room was warm from lack of airing. Niall’s scent lingered. A pain went through him when he inhaled that singular odor. He suddenly wanted to be gone from there. Niall wasn’t here, and he was wasting his time—

“Sit down, Vic,” Kendra instructed. She sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of Niall’s desk and glanced significantly at the matching chair. When Vic lowered himself hesitantly, part of him wanting to be gone to search for Niall, Kendra reached for one of the frames on Niall’s desk.

“Niall never told me in detail how she felt about you. As you probably know by now, that’s not her style. But I’ve worked with her for years. There was something in her face when she used to talk about you, something in her smile . . . I think she’d forgive me for talking to you about her past, even though she is an incredibly private person,” Kendra said soberly.

Vic didn’t speak, but he’d gone very still when Kendra picked up the picture. He suddenly knew exactly whose photo was in the frame. It struck him as strange that he’d never noticed any mementos of Michael before, but then he recalled how Niall’s residence at Riverview Towers was a temporary one. She’d always said that she’d never unpacked the majority of her personal items.

When he held out his hand, Kendra passed him the photo without comment. Vic stared for several long seconds and abruptly set the frame back on the desk.

“Did she tell you about him?” Kendra asked, still studying his reactions closely.

“She told me that she had a child named Michael who died,” Vic replied hoarsely. The vision remained glued behind his eyelids of that beautiful little boy’s face with Niall’s smile and her big, hazel eyes. “Forrester just told me how he died, though.”