12
Max’s cell phone rang just as he was leaving the attorney’s office in Charleston.
It was Gerard. “We need to talk, boss.”
The news that Bridgette had wormed her way onto the island confirmed Max’s suspicion about an internal leak at DSI. What the bloody hell was going on here? Only two people knew he was at San Regale this week. His personal assistant, Joanne, and his Chief Financial Officer, Tom Breeden. Both Joanne and Tom had been with him for years and he trusted them explicitly.
“Does Ellie know Bridgette’s on the island?”
“Yes. In fact, while I was rounding up the St. Regis woman and the reporter, Ms. DeLuca left,” Gerard said. “She slipped out the back door and took off with the boat driver before I could stop her.”
Max had just climbed into a taxicab. He paused long enough to give the driver a destination. “I’m on my way to the docks now. I’ll try to catch Ellie there.”
“The vessel’s name is Solo Run. It just left minutes ago,” Gerard went on. “What do you want me to do with Ms. St. Regis and the reporter? She’s demanding that I call another boat for her.”
“Put Bridgette on the phone. And throw that damn photographer’s camera in the pool.”
“Max!” Bridgette sobbed his name. “I came here to apologize and this, this, man is treating me like I’m some common criminal.”
“Listen carefully, Bridgette. Because I’m not going to repeat myself. I want to know how you knew Ellie and I were on San Regale. And whom you told. Your answer will determine whether I send another chartered boat for you…or the sheriff’s department boat.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would. Apparently you haven’t spoken with your attorney recently. I had a restraining order drawn up, ready to go before a judge. Your counsel had suggested we could work out a more private deal, to save your father—and the world—from knowing what a menace you are.”
Bridgette made a strangled sound. “You don’t intimidate me, Max. And my father won’t believe you over me.”
Max’s hand tightened on the phone. “Don’t count on it. Put Gerard back on.” Gerard came back on the line in an instant. “She’s hiding something,” Max went on. “She didn’t even bother protesting her innocence. Call your sources, see what they can dig up fast on Bridgette. Then put some pressure on her, see if you can get any information.”
“You got it.”
“I’m almost at the waterfront now. Call me if you learn anything.”
Max disconnected. He couldn’t imagine what Ellie must be thinking right now. First Bridgette shows up again after Max swore the island was safe. Then Gerard waltzes in. That Gerard was just doing his job probably hadn’t registered, since Max had led Ellie to believe they were alone on the island.
He thought about the legal documents she’d given him last night. He’d just opened the envelope a short time ago at the attorney’s office, so they could void the agreement. He’d been flabbergasted to find that she’d signed over Stefan’s shares of DSI. You’ve always deserved to own the whole company. Even Stefan said so, she had written in her note.
Damn it, he should have been honest from the beginning. As soon as he caught up with Ellie, he was going to tell her everything.
The boat driver got Ellie to the mainland in record time. She paid in cash and disembarked. The walkways were crowded. An arts and crafts show was set up, live music filled the air. People were everywhere. Tugging her briefcase strap onto her shoulder, Ellie made a beeline forward and grabbed a cab that had just swung up to unload passengers.
“The Marriott,” she said as they pulled away. It was the first place that came to mind, and if they didn’t have a room, she’d go elsewhere.
Right now all she wanted was to be alone, to nurse the ache in her heart and to find a place to lick her wounds in private. She’d calmed down a bit on the boat ride. Bridgette’s arrival on the island, while a nuisance, wasn’t the reason Ellie had left. Seeing Gerard there was.
The fact that Max hadn’t told her about Gerard said it all. Their time on the island was just about the deal. God, what had made her think things would be different this time around? She hadn’t been able to hold Max’s attention seven years ago. And nothing had changed.
To her relief, the Marriott had a room. She handed the desk clerk her credit card.
“Do you need assistance with your bags?” he asked.
“The airline lost my luggage.” A small lie that avoided questions.
He nodded sympathetically. “We have a complimentary kit just for such occasions. Toothbrush, hairbrush, that sort of thing. I’ll have one sent to your room.”
The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the seventh floor. Once inside her room, she left the curtains drawn and stretched out on the bed. Her head ached and a lump the size of Texas was lodged in her throat.
The simple answer was: get over it. Move on. Something she should have done long before.
So be it. But first, she was going to do what she should have done seven years ago: Tell Max off. For then…For now…
Pushing up, she picked up the phone and punched in his number. There was a delay before it started to ring.
A knocking sounded at her door. She frowned as a voice called out, “Room service.” Then she recalled the desk clerk’s promise to send up extra toiletries. She quickly hung up the phone. Waiting to call Max when she wasn’t so upset was probably wise.
“I’m coming,” she called out as the knocking repeated. She grabbed a few bills from her wallet and checked the peephole. The bellman had knelt to tie a shoelace. Beside him on the floor was a paper bag.
She released the safety chain and flipped the dead bolt lock. “Here you go.” She opened the door and held out the tip.
The man was wearing a black ski mask now. He wasn’t a bellman.
“Hello, Ella-baby.”
She tried to shove the door shut, but the man had already pushed into the threshold. She opened her mouth to scream, but the man punched the heel of his palm into the center of her chest, knocking her backwards.
Ellie hit the floor, pain splintering up her spine. She tried to roll to her side, to get away, but the man fell on top of her.
“Easy, now. Don’t fight me,” he said.
“Get off me!” She bucked against his heavier weight and managed to free one arm. She made a fist and hit him as hard as she could in the nose.
He swore, enraged, then hiked his knee up sharply between her legs, catching her pubic bone. She screamed as his fist swung up.
Everything slowed. Her life, her regrets flashed before her eyes as the man’s punch exploded solidly against her chin.
Max found the boat, but had already missed Ellie. The boat’s driver recalled her getting into a taxicab, making Max wonder if she had gone to the airport. It would make sense that she’d want to leave, to go home. He’d already tried her cell phone, but Gerard answered. She’d left her phone on the island.
Hailing another cab, Max headed to the airport. The Charleston terminal wasn’t that big. Chances were good he’d find her there. His cell phone rang, but had stopped by the time he withdrew it. Missed call, the display read.
He quickly checked the call log, and was surprised to see Marriott. On a hunch, he hit Redial and asked for Ellie DeLuca’s room.
“We don’t have a guest registered under that name, sir.”
He started to disconnect, then stopped. “Wait! Check under Ellie McMann.”
There was silence, then, “Hold please. I’ll ring that room now.”
Relief that he’d located her battled with irritation that she’d left to begin with. The phone rang but Ellie didn’t answer. When voice mail picked up, Max disconnected. Maybe she was in the shower. Or had left to get something to eat.
He leaned toward the driver. “There’s been a change. I need to go back downtown. To the Marriott.”
Max’s phone rang again. This time it was Gerard.
“I’ve located Ellie,” Max said. “I’m on my way to her hotel now. How’s it going there?”
“I tried the good-guy routine and asked Bridgette who she knows at DeLuca Shipping, besides you. At first she clammed up, then she said she and a fellow named Richard Nolls dated casually. I called Nolls, who—get this—works in Data Processing. As soon as I mentioned Bridgette’s name, Nolls cracked. He admitted tapping your secretary’s e-mail and giving Bridgette your itinerary.”
“I want Nolls arrested.”
“It’s already in the works. He’s agreed to cooperate in hopes of a lighter punishment. He says he thinks Bridgette was relaying the information to someone else. Nolls thought she was selling it to the paparazzi for money.”
Bridgette didn’t need money. “Have you told Bridgette what Nolls said?”
“Yes. I thought she was going to have a fit—then she calmed and demanded to talk to her lawyer. Says she won’t say another word without him present.”
“That’s an odd request, seeing as she hasn’t been charged with anything. Yet.” The cab jerked to a halt just then, in front of the Marriott. “Look, I’m at Ellie’s hotel now. Keep at it. I’ll call you shortly.”
Max stood near the elevator, waiting for the general manager. As was standard at any reputable hotel, guest room numbers were not given out. However, when the desk clerk dialed Ellie’s room, she still didn’t answer.
The general manager, who recognized the DeLuca name, seemed willing to give Max the benefit of the doubt. “I’ll check Ms. McMann’s room personally.”
Just then the desk clerk rushed over and spoke in hushed tones to the manager. Max heard every word. “We’ve had a complaint of screams coming from room 713.”
Max turned and raced to the elevators. If anything happened to Ellie…
“Have security meet us on the seventh floor,” the manager said from behind him.
When they arrived, Max sprinted down the hall toward Ellie’s room. He pounded on the door, called her name, but there was no response. Then he heard a scream.
“Ellie!” he shouted. “I’m here!”
The manager had his master key card out but was so flustered he fumbled and dropped it. Max scooped it up and swiped it, then shoved the door. It only opened a few inches before the security chain caught.
“Get back!” Max took a step backwards and kicked the door. On the third try the frame splintered and the door swung free.
Max rushed in. Ellie was on the far side of the room, using the broken base of a lamp to hold off a man who wore a mask. Max tackled the man from behind.
They rolled, crashing into the sofa. The man jabbed Max in the ribs, but Max countered, subduing him with a couple of satisfying punches to the jaw.
Two more men had bustled into the room. “Hotel security,” one of them shouted. The general manager pointed to the man Max straddled. “Hold him for the police.”
Max waited until the security agents had grabbed Ellie’s assailant, then he headed straight for Ellie. She had dropped to the floor and was crying as she talked to the manager. Max knelt in front of her, wanted to pull her into his arms. A large bruise had risen on her cheek, making him want to go back and stomp the man into the ground.
He focused on Ellie. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”
“I’ll be okay.” She touched her cheek, then grimaced. “I think.”
“Hold on.” Ignoring her protests, Max carried her to the loveseat in the far corner. The general manager appeared with an ice bucket and towel.
Max grabbed them and made a makeshift ice pack. “This might sting.”
“I’ll do that.” Ellie took the icy towel from him and gingerly pressed it to her cheek. “How did you know I needed help? Wait—you had me followed, right? I should have known Gerard wasn’t your only stoolie.”
“Look, I know that you’re mad, but you don’t understand what’s been going on.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand. And I am mad. But at least this guy’s been caught. I don’t have to worry who’s following me now.” She looked at him, her eyes distant. “We both got what we wanted. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She pushed to her feet.
Max reached to help her, but she avoided his hands. He reminded himself that she had a right to be angry. He and Ellie needed to clear the air about a lot of things. Their past. Her marriage to Stefan. This whole disaster with Bridgette.
But now wasn’t the time.
“There’s a room across the hall,” the general manager offered. “Ms. McMann?”
“We’ll talk later,” Max promised. When Ellie left, he walked back toward the man who had attacked her. The security agents had him sitting up on the bed, his hands cuffed behind his back. They had removed his mask. Blood trickled from his nose.
Suddenly Max had a hunch who Bridgette was giving information to. “How much did Bridgette pay you to harass Ellie?”
The man gave him a cold stare and shook his head. “I ain’t talking with anyone but my lawyer.”