“Owen, please—” She stood and stepped toward him, but he held up a staying hand.
“I can’t be what you want me to be. I don’t have it in me.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” she protested. “Depression is a disease. She should have gotten help. He was wrong for leaving you there with her in that condition. But love, true love, can be so beautiful.”
“How would you know?”
“My parents had it. I’ve seen it.”
“Once? I’ve watched it fail a thousand times. Look at Cara. Hell, look around you. The couples here are a f**king mess. I should trust we’re going to be that one couple who makes it? My chances of getting struck by lightning are better.” His face was tight with grim resolve. “I never lied to you, Lindy. You knew we had no future, and you made your choice.”
Bitterness threatened to choke her, and she nodded, the anger rising again. “You’re absolutely right. And you’ve made yours.” She rose to her feet and strode toward the bathroom, desperate to keep it together for one more minute. “It’s funny, I used to agree with you and think of myself as a chicken because everything scares me. I’m afraid of airplanes and chairlifts and skiing, and yeah, I’m even afraid of falling in love. But you know what? I do all of it in spite of my fear. And that? That makes me braver than you.”
She didn’t wait for a response before closing the bathroom door in his face.
Chapter Eighteen
Owen stared at the amber liquid in his glass. It was a sad day indeed when even Tullamore Dew tasted like piss.
“Howdy there, O’Neil!” Calvin Cedarhurst boomed, giving him a hearty slap on the back. “Where you been?”
He’d spent the past eighteen hours at Cara’s hotel while Lindy told everyone he was nursing a pulled muscle. Once he and Lindy had it out the night before, he thought it best for them to both get some space. Cara had been happy for the face-to-face update and the company. She’d known something was bothering him, but hadn’t pressed, and for that he was grateful.
He chose to ignore Cedarhurst’s question and settled on a nod and a terse greeting. “Hello, Calvin.” Owen didn’t look up, hoping maybe he would recognize a man not in the mood for chatter. Fat chance.
“Back my friend here up with another, and I’ll take one of whatever he’s having.” He lumbered over to the stool closest to Owen and hauled himself onto it with a wheeze. “I need a man-sized chair, you know what I mean? They make ’em bigger in Texas.” He chuckled at his own joke, but stopped when Owen didn’t join him. “Awful quiet there, son. Lady giving you grief?”
He shrugged and slugged back another swallow of scotch as Lindy’s words replayed in his mind. Said or unsaid, I love you just the same. And what had her honesty gotten her? Heartache, like love always did.
His own heart gave a hollow thump, and he set his drink on the bar. At least it would all be over soon. Gavin had called him that morning to let him know he’d received the package. Owen expected a call in the next couple hours that would hopefully help him bring Nico’s scheme tumbling down. Cara was on standby ready to come when the police were called.
He glanced at his watch and let out an exasperated sigh. He barely had patience for the windbag on a good day, and today definitely did not qualify. “This place isn’t exactly my cup of tea. I’m looking forward to going back to Long Island.”
“Up until last night, I would’ve agreed with you, partner. Bitsy and me have been getting along worse than usual.”
Something in his tone caught Owen’s attention, and he looked up. In spite of his words, Cedarhurst looked pleased as a pigeon. He leaned toward Owen, modulating his voice down to what he clearly considered a whisper.
“You want to blow off some steam, do yourself a favor and sign up for the ‘me-time meditation session.’” He winked one beady eye and licked his fleshy lips.
Owen swallowed his revulsion, faking a casual grin. “Oh yeah? Relaxing, was it?”
“Not at first, but I was really relaxed when it was over, if you know what I mean.”
There was no mistaking him now, and all of Owen’s senses stood at attention. “Who was your instructor?”
“Liza.”
Adrenaline blasted through him as another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. She was a major player in whatever this scheme was, and seduction was her specialty. But what was the end game? Time to put the screws to Gavin and get an answer. Now. “I’m going to have take a rain check on that drink.” He clapped Cedarhurst on the shoulder a little harder than was warranted and stood. “I think I’ll go make that appointment right now. I’m feeling a little tense.”
The other man’s belly jiggled with laughter. “Guy’s gotta have his priorities. You enjoy yourself, son.”
He bit back a snarl and resisted the urge to deck the fucker. Sadness for sweet Bitsy Cedarhurst swamped him. Not only had her husband cheated on her, he’d added insult to injury by bragging about it to a near stranger. But he couldn’t think about what that philandering scum had done. It was all about Cara right now, and Cedarhurst’s admission had put a nail in Nico’s proverbial coffin.
He slapped on a smile. “I plan on it.” That was no lie. Busting Nico was going to be loads of fun. He took the stairs two at a time and barreled into the room.
“Lindy?” he called. No response. He took a quick look around, but she was gone. Disappointment warred with relief. He wanted to share what he’d learned about Liza, but he wasn’t ready to face her again. His emotions were all over the place, and the heavy sadness he’d felt since he’d walked out might cause him to do something he’d regret. He needed time away from her, and soon enough he’d be back to his former self. Alone and liking it.
He rifled through his briefcase in search of his cell, but it was nowhere to be found. A low hum from the corner of the room caught his attention. His phone sat on the bedside table, and he had an incoming text. He crossed the room and snatched it up. Gavin.
This no phone thing is bs. Call me asap.
He hit the call back button and Gavin picked up. “About time.”
Owen frowned. “You texted two seconds ago. How much quicker could I have been?”
“I’ve been trying to get you for hours.”
“Hang on.” Owen pulled the phone from his face and peered down. Only one unread text. A feeling of dread unfurled in his belly. It was from Lindy. This one hit him like a blow to the gut.
Ur phone was going nuts. Was worried there was an emergency & saw the text from Gavin. I think I figured the rest out. Out w/Nico and hope to return w/proof.
–L
He scrolled to the earliest text from Gavin, hoping to get some context.
Got the scoop on ur phony Liza Ingram. Verrry interesting. What kinda shit r u involved in over there that has u mixed up w/a Vegas prostitute? Call me.
Another nail in the coffin for Stephanopoulos. Everything was falling neatly into place. Soon enough, Nico would be neatly entrapped. Only one problem. There were few things more dangerous than a cornered animal. He made a split decision and picked up the phone.
“Cara, can you come now? I need you to help me find Lindy.”
…
She stood outside Nico’s office door and knocked tentatively. No one answered, but then, she hadn’t expected anyone to. She’d left Nico right outside his bedroom door not ten minutes before. She glanced around again, then slid the key into the lock. The resulting snick seemed so loud in the deserted corridor, she winced. But it had worked.
When she’d first seen the key, she hadn’t been sure it would. The lodge, although opulent, had a lot of rustic touches, and the heavy oak doors with the old fashioned locks had been one of them. When she’d spied the key on Sarabeth’s desk the morning before, she knew she’d filch it if she got the opportunity. When she saw Gavin’s text, she’d stopped waiting and had made the opportunity. After her fight with Owen, getting this thing done and over with was crucial. She needed to get the hell away from him before she humiliated herself more than she already had. Then, surrounded by her puppies and Melba and her silly brothers, she’d weep her eyes out for the next month or so like a girl in unrequited love was supposed to.
She slipped the key in her pocket, tamping down the guilt that had nagged her over her method of acquiring it. She only hoped Sarabeth would forgive her if she ever found out. With one last glance up and down the hallway, she slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her. The moon was bright, and a large window let in enough light to make the flashlight in her pocket unnecessary.
She peered around the room, taking in its contents. A giant walnut desk took up a large section of the room, but she wasn’t interested in that. What held her attention was the bay of monitors against the far wall. Her heart hammered, and she moved closer. She’d always thought it was strange that Nico had never invited her in, always choosing instead to stand outside the door until she left. When she approached the monitors, it no longer seemed strange.
The ballroom dance studio lit one of the screens. Empty and cast in shadows, it seemed innocuous enough. But another feed, this one of the massage room, filled her with cold dread. She’d been in that room, almost nude. Six screens in all, each broadcasting the goings on in all of the private rooms of the lodge. Playing a hunch, she hit the rewind button on one featuring the meditation room. Two minutes later, she watched a playback of Liza, urging Owen to lie back. To relax, let her—
The door swung open, and Lindy jerked her hand away with a gasp.
“Nico, I was hoping I’d find you.”
“Let me guess. The door was open, and you thought you’d take a look around?”
“Y-yes. I was just about to leave when I saw you weren’t in here.”
His icy smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she knew she was busted. Of course he hadn’t believed her. Who can sniff out a charlatan better than another charlatan?
“Riiight. So you didn’t happen to see these, I’m sure.” He gestured to the televisions with his gun-wielding hand.
Gun.
Her heart pounded, and her vision blurred. Shit, think, Lindy, think! “I don’t care about any of this,” she said coldly, hoping he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “I want to know if my bastard husband is cheating on me again.”
He waved the gun at her with an icy smile. “Sit.”
She sat down on the armchair near the bay of monitors, and he leaned in to fiddle with the buttons. Calvin Cedarhurst’s face rose on the screen. The camera panned wide, and Liza entered the frame to slide sinuously over his bloated body. Calvin clutched her head in his meaty paws and pressed her face down toward his crotch. Lindy turned away, bile roiling in her stomach, and Nico hit pause.
“That’s the money shot right there. I’ve been in business for less than six months and you know how many of those I have? Sixty. This was our last run before we disbanded The Healing Place and cashed in.” His face stretched into a sly smile, and she wondered how she’d ever thought him handsome. “Tell me, Lindy, how much do you think Calvin Cedarhurst would pay to keep Bitsy from seeing that? A million? Two? Those are “bargain-basement” prices compared to what she’d get in divorce court.”
“You’re sick. What you’re doing to people is terrible.”
“What I’m doing?” This time the cruel twist of his lips couldn’t be called a smile. “All I’m doing is giving them an opportunity. They can choose to walk away.”
“You get people at their worst, weakest state. Marriages on the rocks, relationships in flux. And you chip away at them with your phony classes, sexpot staff members and sly little comments.”