Intrusion (28 page)

“Is he … dead?”

“No, no. The doctors say he will be fine. He is at the Mass. General Hospital if you’d like to see for yourself.”

I grabbed my briefcase, purse and sunglasses. “What are we waiting for.”?

~

Looking inordinately cheerful, Rand was propped up in his hospital bed like a low-rent pasha. He brightened when he saw us and waved us in.

“Miss Elisabeth.
Sandman.
Come on in.” He beamed at a young candy striper reading his blood pressure. “They’re taking such good care of me here that I don’t want to go home.”

A dizzying array of medical devices chronicled his every move. They
creeped
me out, but Rand and Lucian shrugged it off.

“OK,” I said when the volunteer left, “tell us what happened.”

He locked eyes with Lucian and lowered his voice. “Can you shut the door? Please.”

Lucian found me a chair and stood behind it like a sentry.

“I’m embarrassed,” Rand said. “It’s probably no big deal. I was researching that topic for you when Dr. Meg called me in. I left my screen on. When I came back, and I can’t prove this, but I thought someone had scrolled through my computer.”

“Who was there?” Lucian folded his arms like a hanging judge. His handsome face was
Carrara
marble, Michelangelo’s David in street clothes.

“I can’t really say.
Arun
breezed by before I was called in, and Tornado was back and forth. Dr. Meg is always there, of course, and Carter dropped by with some take-out for her.” Rand threw his hands up. “Things were crazy last night.”

I leaned forward and touched Rand’s foot. “Your text sounded urgent. What did you find?”

He sighed. “You told me to look for anomalies, financial stuff that didn’t make sense. Well, I did some digging—hacking—into the Tornado’s bank records. People are crazy to bank on line, you know. Anyone can access it.”

“Stop avoiding the issue. What did you find?”

“Money.
Tons of it.
Tony Torres has over fifty thousand in his checking account alone. That doesn’t count the CDs and savings accounts. Those add up to several million bucks. I didn’t want to put it in the text, so I asked you to call me.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “Financial security is not criminal. It doesn’t make him a murderer.”

“How about his wife?”
I asked. “Maybe it’s her money.”

“Maybe,” Rand said, “but I thought
Nilda
was some sort of teacher. Not a big money profession.”

“What does any of this have to do with your accident? Have you called the police?”

Rand’s eyes grew saucer sized. “I didn’t, but Dr. Meg did. Please, Mrs. B. All I know is that I left my big glass of Coke on my desk. You know I always drink a lot of that. Regular, not that diet stuff. Anyway, I was thirsty when I got back from Dr. Meg, so I chug-a-lugged it, and bam! Within about five minutes, I was sicker than I’ve ever been in my life.”

I forced myself to power down.
Logic, Lizzie Mae.
Reason will win the day.

“What do the doctors say? Have they done your blood work yet?”

“They did it right away, and it’s really weird, almost embarrassing.”

Lucian’s frown would have terrified most people. It sobered Rand immediately, driving him back on point. He settled back on his pillows and continued his narrative.

“It was Visine or something like it. Almost a whole bottle of the stuff got into my Coke. Can you believe it?”

“Damn.” Frustration swamped my senses. What next? Most people have something like that, especially if they stare at a computer screen all day. Anybody at CYBER-MED could have had that stuff. Come to think of it, both Candy and I carried it in our purses.

Rand’s grin didn’t make any sense. Poison is hardly a laughing matter.

“Forgive me, Mrs. B. It’s just that they found the vial already. And guess what? It came from my desk. I use eye drops a couple of times a day, especially when I’m working on my dissertation.”

“You mean …?”

“Yep.
Only my prints are on the bottle. Kind of funny, don’t you think?
So much for clues.”

After Rand reassured us that he was compos mentis and ready to go home, we left him to the tender mercies of the candy striper. His brush with death had one significant upside: confirmation that the CYBER-MED conspiracy was alive and well.

Lucian hesitated as he helped me into the Cayenne, fixing those blazing azure eyes on me. “Don’t go back there,” he said, stroking my cheek. “Please, Elisabeth. I worry about you at CYBER-MED. You are vulnerable in there, so alone.”

He was right, of course, but despite the danger, I felt exhilarated, cautious but not fearful. Fate had given me another chance to reclaim my life. Nothing would deter me, not even a clever, ruthless killer.

“You forget,” I teased. “I have a protector. Rand and I can watch each other’s backs.”

“That does not comfort me,” Lucian growled. “Rand can barely protect himself.” He tenderly tucked in my skirt, bag and briefcase before closing the car door.

Funny.
Kai had always done the same thing from the very first date we’d ever had. I’d said opening doors for a woman was archaic, a sexist relic of the past. He’d laughed and said that he knew better.
Let me cherish you, Lizzie Mae. You’re precious to me.

“Can you drop me at Sweet Nothings?” I asked Lucian. I need some quiet time.”

I had to ponder the faithless spouse issue. Could it really be that easy? Was someone intent on eliminating every faithless spouse on the client list? To cement my theory I would have to find out more about Richard
Chernikova
, the kinds of things absent from official bios and position papers. I’d skip the
Wall Street Journal
and binge on
Wonkette
,
Gawker-Stalker
, and
Huff-Post.

After a cursory nod to Candy, I walled myself in my office and fired up Google.
Wonkette
,
a snarky DC blog, had plenty to say about
Chernikova
, none of it flattering. They compared him to both Ivan the Terrible and Colonel Klink in the same posting without batting a keystroke. That didn’t surprise me, but I needed a more personal profile. By scrolling down the page, I found it:

 
Why was Richard
Chernikova
, aka “stiff Dick”, seen exiting a posh Georgetown Hotel from the guest elevator? Was the perpetual GW Hospital patient getting a special medical check-up, or is his heart otherwise engaged?

Several other blurbs repeated the same theme. Despite the prominence and charm of his wife Lola, Richard was apparently a hound. That explained his antics with Meg the night of the
Joslin
Ball.

Gossip is inadmissible in court, but I subscribe to the where-there’s-smoke-there’s-fire adage.
Chernikova
had scored enough points to join the bad boys club with honors. I strolled over to Candy’s office and shared the news, expecting a round of applause or at least a high five.

“Big deal,” she shrugged, “another guy with a zipper problem. I keep telling you, Betts. They’re all that way, at least the ones who have any opportunity.”

“Not all.”

I’m not naïve, but I knew with every fiber of my being that Kai loved only me. Nothing she or anyone else said would ever shake that certainty.

“Oh, Betts, get a grip. Kai was different. I know that.” She twirled her pencil. “But you have to admit, Tommy fooled us. We knew he was a player but not on such a grand scale. I mean, diddling your cougar boss is risky business in any outfit.”

“True, but that’s not what killed him. Tommy was too smart. He figured out this murder-for-hire scheme and confronted someone.” I flopped down in the guest chair facing Candy’s ornate French desk. “This may sound crazy, but I suspect Tony Torres. I’m not saying he did it by himself, just that he meets the criteria for the inside man.”

“Hmm, the Tornado?
He’s pretty tough, that’s for sure, and he was front and center when Rand was poisoned.” She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. Would a guy with four little boys at home take that kind of risk, even for a boatload of cash?”

A very good question.
Unfortunately, one need only read the daily newspaper to answer that. I wondered what Lucian would think. Maybe I should call him.

“Betts!
Hello in there.” Candy rolled her eyes. “I bet I know where your mind is, Mrs. Buckley, with luscious Lucian Sand.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I was thinking of something else, something you won’t like.”

“
Pish
tosh.
Tell me anything.”

I took her at her word. “OK.
Arun
was on the spot every time something happened. He has a lot to lose if CYBER-MED goes belly up. I wonder what his money situation is.”

I expected an explosion, not a flood of tears. Candace
Ott
doesn’t cry over things like that. She’s indomitable, a real fighter.

“Don’t do this,” she sobbed. “You had Kai to love. Now you’ve got Lucian. I missed the boat on the whole thing.”

I put my arms around my friend and hugged her. “Come on now. Is this the awesome Candace
Ott
speaking, the woman who brings men to their knees and makes strong guys beg?”

She sniffled noisily and blew her nose. “I’m like everyone else. I want a husband and family someday.” A sudden grin eclipsed her tears.
“Someday in the future.
The thing is, Betts, I think
Arun
might be the one. We’re really good together. There’s got to be some other explanation.”

“Are you willing to question him? I’ll get his financials checked out.”

Her nod was half-hearted, but it was a start. With Rand out of commission, I’d have to ask Lucian to hack into
Arun’s
records. Somehow that thought pleased me.

Twenty-Five

He called
just before six, curling my toes with the sultry sound of his voice.

“Elisa. You are well?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I will pick you up in one hour.”

“Wait just a minute. I’m drowning in work, Lucian. No way can I leave.”

His throaty chuckle annoyed me. “You must eat, ma
belle
. Don’t worry.”

He hung up before I could say anything else. No time to protest or examine my feelings about him. The man was annoying.
Pushy beyond belief.
Incredibly hot.

When Lucian finally stood before me, those excuses vanished. He wore a tweedy blue blazer, charcoal slacks and a fine weave sweater that matched his eyes. No ponytail tonight. His sand-streaked hair was a tousled mass of curls that barely concealed his ear stud. The nerdy professor with elbow patches was an urban fable. He came bearing gifts, a woven picnic basket redolent with delicious smells.

“Dinner,” Lucian said with a bow. He gently tucked a napkin on my lap and shrugged. “The chef is a friend from Provence. We cook together sometimes, compare recipes.” He unveiled a
portobello
appetizer and thin crust pizza that made my mouth water.

“Heavenly! I love
portobellos
. How did you know?”

He cut the mushroom into tiny tidbits, feeding them to me as if I were a nestling and he the papa bird. Two crystal goblets of Perrier and a bottle of Provencal Rose completed our feast.

“Umm, that’s delicious.” I licked every bit of sauce off my lips and sucked the juice off the fork. Lucian hovered over me, a faint smile enveloping his face. Where were my manners? My mother would have been appalled.

“Pardon me,” I said. “I’m not usually this greedy.”

“Is this not a better plan?” he whispered, stroking my cheek. “A woman who appreciates fine cuisine is very sensual. You must never deprive yourself, Elisabeth. Life has so many riches to share with us.”

I was drowning, submerged by waves of desire as Lucian transformed dining into foreplay. His sultry gaze mesmerized me, addling my senses. We sipped wine, exchanging fevered glances and tender touches that melted my resolve. The crème
brûlèe
went untouched as we enjoyed a different type of sweetness.

Afterwards, I lay in his arms filled with a bliss that had long eluded me. Sexual abandon was a relic of the past, a treasure only Kai had unearthed. Lucian was both strange and familiar, an elixir that intoxicated me even as I craved his body like a drug. I couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try. For now I would live in the moment.

 
I rose halfway up on my elbows, breaking the spell. “I need your help, Lucian. If it makes you uncomfortable, just tell me. That’s OK. I’ll find another way.”