Rulers of Deception (22 page)

“Unfortunately, the story with Marshall isn’t going away,” she began. Her dark eyes flickered between the three of them. “Word is that Harold Gossinger has caught wind of the murder accusation against Marshall and is understandably upset.”

“Who contacted him?” Madison asked.

Veronica’s hands tightened. “I’m not sure. You know how these things go. Whoever the source is clearly wanted to make this explode, and getting Gossinger involved was like adding a spark to gunpowder. I’m not sure what Gossinger will do now that he knows, but it might not be good.”

Madison immediately thought of the photographs lying in her purse, and one quick look at her brothers confirmed they thought the same thing. Had Gossinger hired someone to take the photographs in order to get back at the family? Or was it the cartel, as Wyatt feared? Though she’d kept the cartel threat to herself, Madison had to wonder if all of this was connected. Could there be a single underlying source to all these lies? Or were they, once again, being hit from all sides?

Veronica cleared her throat. “So we’ll need to clear this up, of course, before we publish the article. I’ll make some inquiries, but I think you need to look inside your ranks and find out who may have known and who could have sent in the anonymous tip.”

Grant frowned. “There is no one on our end who would have known about this.”

“What about Uncle Duke? Uncle Walter?” Linc wondered, even as doubt creased his brow. “Though I don’t know why they’d do this.”

“They wouldn’t,” Madison agreed, pursing her lips. She turned to Veronica. “We will look into it.”

“Good.” Veronica nodded, avoiding Madison’s eyes. “The only other thing I need to clear up involves Wyatt Bailey.”

Madison stiffened, rage over Wyatt’s deceit boiling beneath her cool façade. She knew exactly where this was going, and it only fueled her anger more. “What has he done?”

Veronica chanced a glance at Madison’s icy stare. “I’ve been told that someone deep inside the press has access to an informant of the Costa Norte Cártel. There have been rumors circulating for a while now that Wyatt has ties to them, but this informant makes the situation a little more sticky. I need to know the truth so we can be sure to combat whatever lies emerge in the future. We need to add in Wyatt’s side of the story to our piece so we can beat the wagging tongues to the punch.”

“Absolutely not,” Madison replied. She thought of Wyatt’s old friend Jimmy and the conversation she’d overheard a few nights earlier. Was he the informant? “I have no way of knowing this isn’t just some ploy to get a juicy story, Miss Diaz. I won’t be giving you any information on Wyatt’s past as it is unrelated to the piece you’re writing on my family’s business.”

Veronica tilted her head curiously, matching Madison’s confidence with her own. “This isn’t a
ploy
, Madison. This is to help insulate you from the inevitable. The world
will
hear the truth about your husband. When they do, it’d be best if they heard it from you.”

Madison’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I understand the benefits of controlling information.”

“Apparently, you don’t,” a livid voice from behind them said. They turned to see McAllister enter the room, face flushed. Apparently he had been listening in on their entire conversation. Madison had never seen him so angry. “Murder? Drug cartels? You promised me the scandals were done. You gave me your word.”

Madison rose to her feet along with the others, pride and decency the only things keeping her from tearing Veronica to pieces. She’d known from the beginning that this fluff piece was a bad idea. “We will handle this, Reed. None of this will touch your hotels or affect our merger.”

McAllister shook his head as he glared at them. “It better not. Or else I’m going to have to do some major damage control.”

Linc walked over and patted McAllister on the back, offering him a smile. “Look, in all honesty this is nothing to be worried over. We’ve dealt with much worse and pulled through just fine.”

“You pulled through because of our deal,” McAllister argued. “Who will save us now that you’ve sucked me into your mess?”

“I will take care of this,” Madison assured him. She placed a hand on his other shoulder and stood tall. “If I’ve learned one thing in the last year and a half of dealing with the press it’s that they can be manipulated. If any of this goes public, we will deal with it the way we always do. Overcome all lies with the truth, and stand by the truth with firm conviction. We didn’t lose before and we won’t lose now.”

McAllister’s shoulders fell as he calmed down. As always, his belief in her overshadowed his fears and doubts. “Okay. Just don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.” Madison turned to Veronica, eyes hard as steel. “Finish up the article. Leave out any mention of these lies. If you don’t find out who’s leaking the information, I promise you I will show up at every tabloid office and tear their files to shreds in pursuit of the truth. And when they ask how I knew, I will proudly give them your name. We both know that will damage your credibility with your colleagues, so be sure to catch the rat. For your own sake.”

Veronica nodded and gathered up her files. She cast one last look at Grant and Linc before slipping from the room without a word.

Wyatt drove recklessly
to the shores of Manhasset Bay. There he kept his boat projects in a three-thousand-square-foot metal building, three stories tall with skylights cut out of the roof. He went there most days, pleased to have a retreat away from the chaos of Madison’s Manhattan. This time, though, he went there with the urgent need to think things over.

Both of them refused to mention Jimmy or the cartel. Even though Wyatt couldn’t prove Madison knew the truth, he could see the betrayal in her eyes. The rage and the fear. She was worried for her family and it was all because of him. He’d let the turmoil of his past come back to hurt her and he would never forgive himself for it. Even if all he had was Jimmy’s word and a bloody letter, he could still feel Franco’s breath on the back of his neck, itching to pounce at any moment. When would he strike? And how?

Fear brought a thousand violent scenarios to mind, but he had to combat them with reason. He had to somehow stay focused despite the guilt and worry that ate away at his gut. If he didn’t, then he might as well hand Madison over to the cartel now and be done with it. The second he gave up they’d kill her. And probably the others, too. Knowing Quinn was pregnant only made matters worse. He couldn’t have the death of an innocent child on his hands.

His only course of action was to seek out Franco and confront him directly. But he didn’t know how to contact the man, or if he’d even make it that far. They might kill him and his family just for kicks. Then it wouldn’t make any difference.

A headache hammered away at his temple as he pulled into the dirt lot behind his building. He brought the Porsche to a stop and rested his head against the steering wheel, his mind reeling with dread. Good God, what if he couldn’t stop this? What if it all came crashing down just as Franco planned?

A violent hatred bloomed inside of him then that chased away the fear. He rode on the wave of it as he lifted his head and eyed his wedding ring made of black tungsten steel. It was a symbol of his commitment to protect the only person he’d ever given a damn about, and he wasn’t going to let some depraved drug lord rip his life to pieces. If he had to take Madison away, force her into the car and drive her miles and miles from home, he’d do so. Whatever it took, he’d see her through this. Even if the cartel got to him, at least she would be safe.

Bolstered by his decision, he shoved open the car door and went to unlock the bay door to his building. He lifted the metal rollup door and shoved, sending it rising up to the ceiling. His eyes fell upon the yacht he’d finished, the one he’d given Madison’s namesake and taken her out for a sail on. At first he felt pride at seeing it, eager to confront the demons he faced. But when his gaze fell upon the bloody message scrawled over the side of the white boat, his heart fell out of his chest to lie in a gory mess at his feet.

Estás Muerto.
You’re dead.

“No,” he managed, staring around the building, searching for the perpetrator. Whoever had done this had gotten inside a locked building. How?

That was when he spotted a hole carved out of the metal sidewall, just big enough for a man to crawl through. They’d taken the time to sneak in the back and deliver their threat versus breaking in the front, which Wyatt took to mean they wanted to surprise him with the message. They certainly got their wish.

Seething, he marched toward the boat and inspected the blood. It’d wash off easily, that wasn’t the problem. The issue was they’d defaced the symbol of his hard work and the love of his life. He had no doubt now that they sought to hurt the people he cared about.

For a split second he debated whether or not to get the police involved. He’d never done so in the past. In fact, he’d never trusted cops further than he could throw them. But this might be out of his league.

Then again, if he
did
go to the cops, then Madison would know he’d received another threat. It would only stress her further and distance her from him even more than she was now. He couldn’t have that, couldn’t bear it. He needed to keep her as close as possible. Especially now.

Decision made, he went to the work sink and filled a bucket with water and soap, then grabbed a sponge to clean off the message. As he went to work erasing the threat from the yacht, he kept the image of it burned clearly into his mind. He wouldn’t forget. And he wouldn’t let it happen again.

“There’s a lot
of sharp objects in here. You could hurt yourself.”

Quinn’s eyebrows rose. “I know how to handle knives, Grant. Give me some credit here.”

“The scar on your left thumb suggests otherwise.” Grant stared around at
Cherir’s
kitchen, zeroing in on potential hazards.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “That was, like, ten years ago. I haven’t cut myself in forever.”

“But you tripped on the curb last month and almost fell on your face,” he reminded her. “If I hadn’t been there—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it.” She poked him in the arm and smiled. “I like it when you worry about me. It’s kinda cute.”

He bristled. “It’s not
cute
. I’m just looking out for our child.”

She melted at his words. “Oh my God. You’re so cute.”

“Stop calling me that.” He snorted, trying to ignore her excitement as he continued to stare around her work environment. “Where do you keep the raw fish? You could get mercury poisoning.”

“I promise not to eat any of the fish.” She followed him as he wandered around, a delighted smile permanently glued to her face. “And I won’t sneak any wine or cooking sherry, even if Raoul is being a pill.”

“I suppose now that you are pregnant you expect me to be nice,” Raoul said, appearing in the doorway. A sly grin twisted his face. “I can make no promises.”

Quinn went to him and patted his arm. “It’s me you should be scared of. Pregnancy hormones have me all out of whack.”

Grant came up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder. When she faced him, his expression softened. “I can get you a chair so you can sit down when you get tired.”

Charmed by his concern, she leaned into him for a hug. “I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s not like I’m an invalid or anything. I can still walk.”