The TROUBLE with BILLIONAIRES: Book 3 (13 page)

It was a long drive, but I sang at the top of my lungs to my favorite songs, played a couple of games of slug bug with myself—which is not nearly as fun as it was when I was a kid playing it in the backseat of my dad’s van with Allison—and just generally enjoyed the time alone to do anything I wanted, to stop when I wanted, to scream when I wanted, and to eat and drink whatever I wanted.

It was almost a disappointment to see LA unfolding on the horizon late that evening.

I texted Rawn to let him know I was in town, and he immediately called me back.

“We’re still at the hospital, but they’re about to release him.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I think so. But they still haven’t really told us what happened. They just said that he’s fine now.”

“Maybe they’ll say something before you leave.”

“I hope so.”

He gave me directions to the hospital, and I managed to find it without too much trouble. I walked off the elevator and spotted Rawn right away—it was hard to miss him, even in a crowd—standing beside a tall woman who could only be his mother. She had the same amber eyes and dark hair as him, though her hair sported a few streaks of gray now, and she had the same sharp jaw, though it was softened by her high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes.

“Hey,” Rawn said, relief clear in his eyes, as he came over and tugged me into his embrace. “I’m so glad you made it safely.”

“I’m fine.” I reached up and kissed his jaw, not sure how intimate I should get with his mother standing just a few feet away. But he turned his head and our lips met, his kiss lingering as his hands drew me tight against him for an instant.

“Here’s the doctor, Rawny,” his mother said.

Rawn turned, slipping his arm around my waist, as he moved back to his mother’s side. “Dr. Ford,” he said to the distinguished, gray-haired man approaching us.

“You’re father’s getting dressed. He’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes.”

“I should go help,” Rawn’s mother immediately said, setting off down the hall before anyone could tell her she couldn’t.

The doctor watched her go before he turned back to Rawn. His eyes fell to me. He politely held out his hand.

“Dr. Ford.”

“This is Madison,” Rawn said. “Dr. Ford is an old family friend,” he explained to me.

“Nice to meet you.”

Dr. Ford seemed to hesitate, but then he cleared his throat. “So, we ran a full blood panel on your father, including a drug panel. It turns out that your father’s chest pain was caused by an overdose of one of his medications.”

“An overdose?”

“Has your father complained of any memory problems, any depression, or suicidal thoughts?”

Rawn tensed, even as he drew me closer against him. “Of course not. You know him better than that.”

Dr. Ford inclined his head slightly.

“My problem is, this drug could have killed your father if he hadn’t had this reaction. And the fact that it is a medication prescribed to him makes me wonder if the overdose was intentional, or if he has gotten to the point where he is no longer capable of self-care.”

“My father is in full control of his faculties,” Rawn said, his voice that low, dangerous tone that always warned me of trouble. “I can’t imagine he would do this to himself—”

And then his eyes widened, and he looked at me with such a clear expression that I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Someone else had done this.

Someone had targeted his father.

Someone who had threatened my life quite openly in a terse, angry email.

***

Rawn drove his mother and father home in a rental car. He wanted to talk to them alone to see if he could figure out how and when someone manipulated his father’s medication. I only spent a few minutes with his parents, but his father was nothing like what I had expected based on the things Rawn had told me. He was a tall, handsome man, even at nearly seventy years old, and so charming he could probably talk Santa Claus into selling his reindeer and powering his sleigh with Saint Bernards. And his mother…she was a little more reserved, more like Rawn. But she was kind, offering me a hug the moment the opportunity presented itself.

I thought I could probably learn to love Rawn’s parents.

I called Annie and learned that she and Logan had just returned from the studio and he was preparing a meal for the four of us, so I decided to run by the hotel, drop off my stuff, and take a quick shower—before heading over.

I was curious to see Logan’s home, and I was anxious to verify that Annie’s happy cheer over the phone wasn’t the result of an inappropriate liaison between the two of them.

I could still hold on to hope for a little while, couldn’t I?

I took the long way around the city. I wanted to see everything I could since I had no idea when I would have a chance to see it again. It was overwhelming, how large and spread out the place was. I never did locate the Hollywood sign, but I saw things that I would never forget—like the sight of a yellow minion from that silly children’s movie making out with Darth Vader in the middle of the street.

I was surprised to find Rawn parked and waiting in Logan’s driveway as I made my way through the locked gates to the lovely circle drive that unfolded in front of the stone, English-style mansion. I don’t know what was more breathtaking, Rawn leaning against his rental car in jeans and a sports coat, or the marble porch that flowed out from the front door like the tail of some fine bird.

Rawn. Definitely Rawn.

I was a little lightheaded as I climbed out of the car. Exhaustion. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and I had been up since before dawn, not to mention the fourteen hour or something drive I had just taken. I was so ready to crawl into bed, but I was also so hungry I might have eaten an old shoe if it was offered.

“You don’t look like you’re up for this,” Rawn said, drawing me into his chest as I approached him.

“I’m fine.” I stepped back and looked up at him. “Did your mom offer any insight as to how your father ended up overdosing on his medication?”

He brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “My mom would let the devil walk into her house if he convinced her he was having a bad day.” He gestured with his cellphone, which he had been studying when I drove up. “I emailed the security company that monitors their house. There are a couple of cameras around the property. I asked them to send me all the footage from the last few weeks.”

“That’s a lot of footage.”

He shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but if it reveals this guy’s face or someone who knows what he looks like, it’ll be worth it.”

Rawn drew me into his chest again. “Do you think they would notice if we just left and went back to the hotel? It’s been a long, fucking day.”

“They might.” I gestured toward the front of the house with my chin. “Annie’s standing in the doorway.”

He groaned and reluctantly pushed me away, but not before he dropped a few kisses on my temple. We walked to the front door hand in hand, a nice sense of calm descending over me. Annie was beaming, and I wanted to forget everything that had been going on over the last few weeks, everything bad that had happened to us since our fateful visit to the outlet mall. She looked so much like the Annie I met at college orientation that it was easy to fool myself into thinking nothing bad would ever happen to either of us.

“Hi!” she said, throwing her arms around my neck the moment I was close enough. “I can’t believe you drove all the way down here. Logan says it’s a really long drive.”

“It was nice,” I said, ignoring the numbness that was beginning to build in my fingertips. Exhaustion…that was all.

“Hi, Rawn,” Annie said, stepping back and waving us into the house. “Logan’s in the kitchen. He’s making homemade pasta, can you believe that? It’s like watching an episode of
Master Chef
when he cooks.”

She led the way through the impressive lower floor of the house, passing rooms filled with thousands of dollars of art and furniture like it was nothing. My Annie was definitely a different person if she could walk past a Rembrandt and not bat an eye.

I hope that was all that had changed in her.

We walked through the swinging doors of the kitchen to find Logan dropping long, thin sheets of pasta into a pot of boiling water in a kitchen that looked like it was a better fit for a five star restaurant than a private home. I didn’t even recognize some of the appliances that sat out on the counter.

“Just a sec,” he said, lifting another delicate collection of thin pasta and dropping it in the pot with its brothers and sisters. Then, he wiped his hands on a towel and turned, holding out his hand to Rawn. “I was sorry to hear about your father. Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah. It was some sort of medication problem, but the doctor thinks he’ll make a full recovery. He’s already back at home.”

“That good,” Logan said, his eyes jumping to mine with an expression I recognized. It was the same I often saw on my own face.

Those who live with chronic illness can recognize a lot about each other without having to give voice to a single word.

“Dinner’s just about ready. Just waiting on the pasta.”

“It smells heavenly in here,” I said, my stomach suddenly growling. “Is that Alfredo I smell?”

“Logan made his own sauce, too,” Annie said, amazement coloring her words and her pale cheekbones. “He’s a wonderful cook.”

Logan glanced at her, but I couldn’t see if he was annoyed or pleased with her amazement, not from the angle at which I was standing. And then someone was opening a bottle of wine and ushering us to the already set table in the lovely breakfast nook. I settled into my chair and sipped at my wine, loving the delicious warmth that curled in my belly.

“How have things been going for you?” Rawn asked Annie.

“Great. Logan takes me with him to the set every day. The whole process is mind boggling,” she said with a small laugh. “Talk about organized chaos.”

“What’s the movie about?” I asked.

Annie glanced at Logan, as he approached with a salad bowl in one hand and a bread basket in the other.

“It’s a crime thriller,” he said. “My character is a cop who gets himself wrapped up in a conspiracy to kill the English prime minister.”

“That’s original,” Rawn said, a small smile telling me he was being sarcastic. I elbowed him gently.

“Who else is in it?”

“Why does everyone always ask that?” Logan asked, winking to let me know he was joking.

“Rachel Sherman,” Annie said.

My eyebrows rose, more because that name finally caught Rawn’s attention more than the fact that I knew who she was and was a little impressed by the name.

“What’s she like?” Rawn asked, as I again elbowed him in the chest.

“Pretty,” Annie said.

“Bossy,” Logan said.

I laughed. Rawn glanced at me. “Sounds like someone I know.”

A third elbow and he wrapped his arms around me so that I couldn’t hurt him.

Logan came back to the table with the pasta and joined us, sipping from the glass of wine Annie had poured for him. Then, he began to serve the food, telling a funny story about how his mother taught him, at the age of nine, to make fresh pasta and how his first effort ended with a kitchen covered in flour and a pasta that was more salt than anything else.

He’d come a long way since then. The food was restaurant quality, causing me to eat more than twice what I probably should have. It was the most relaxing meal Rawn and I had shared in weeks. I was so glad that we were able to share it with Annie and that things felt normal again.

That was, of course, until I saw her lean close and whisper something in Logan’s ear. And the way he looked at her…

Shit.

“You promised me,” I said.

Logan looked at me, and I knew. There was no doubt at all. And I could already see it all unfolding, the days that lay ahead for Annie. The last thing I wanted for her was to go through the painful journey I took when my sister was sick, the hope and devastation that took my entire family on a rollercoaster ride that ended in her death. And now…was there anything I could do to stop this?

Logan’s eyes fell to the table, even as Annie reached over and took his hand.

“You promised me. I kept your promise. Why didn’t you keep yours?”

Logan looked up as my voice went from a harsh whisper to just a note below a scream.

“Madison—”

I shook my head. “You have no idea what you’ve done. How could you do this to someone you claim to care about? Didn’t I tell you—”

“Madison, you need to slow down,” Rawn said, gripping my arm and tugging me back before I even realized I had stood up.

I couldn’t stop shaking. I could feel my nerves short-circuiting from my toes to my fingertips. Exhaustion and MS. Not a good combination.

But I didn’t care.

“She’s my friend. And you’ve just destroyed everything about her dreams, her future…”

“I’m a big girl, Madison,” Annie said, standing to face me. “You don’t have to look out for me all the time.”