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Authors: Nicole Camden

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BOOK: Cursed
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CHAPTER
Twenty-eight

Lille hurriedly opened her wristlet and pulled out her phone, trying to hit the emergency button with shaking fingers.

“Just hear me out, okay?”

“No, crazy, I will not.”

He swerved the car and the phone flew out of her hands.

“Damn it.” She tried to reach for it, but she couldn't bend down far enough. She was trying to rip the wig off her head and simultaneously grab her damn phone when he said, “Carl knows me; he can vouch for me.”

She paused, her heart racing. “Carl knows you?”

“I swear he does.”

“Call him,” she said, pointing to the Bluetooth on the dash.

“Okay.” He tapped a few screens, locating recent missed calls, several of which Lille recognized as Carl's. He pressed a button to dial, and after a few moments, Carl's voice came on, surrounded by some really interesting wails and the sound of people murmuring.

“Benson, you fucker, why haven't you been taking my calls?”

“Ahh, Carl. I have Lille here in the car with me.”

“Lille?” Carl sounded dumbfounded. “But she's on her way here with a date.”

“Actually, she's not. I'm taking her to meet her father.”

“What!” Both Carl and Lille shouted at the same time. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“She'll be fine,” Benson assured them both, though he seemed more worried about Carl—fat lot he knew.

“Benson, you better get her here right now.” Carl's voice rose on each word, and Lille imagined him stamping his foot.

“We won't be far. Bye, Carl.” He hung up the phone abruptly and sped onto a ramp leading to the freeway.

“See?” He looked at her, but Lille was in no mood to be pacified.

“You have no right.”

“That's true,” he agreed, dodging traffic like an Indy 500 driver, “but I'm being well paid.”

“Great,” Lille muttered. “I'm sure the cops love to hear that reason for kidnapping.”

“Well, the cops in Miami know me pretty well.”

“I'm sure they do.”

“Think of it this way—I'm doing you a favor.”

“Is that right?”

He nodded, tapping one well-manicured nail on his steering wheel. “Now you can confront the man you've been afraid of all these years.”

“How do you know I'm afraid of him?”

“Carl mentioned it in one of his messages.”

“Why?”

Benson shrugged. “He wanted to hire me to find out about your father, about his intentions, but your father had already hired me.”

“How do you know he doesn't want to kill me?”

“I wouldn't have brought you to him if I thought that.”

“What if you're wrong?”

“I'll let you shoot me.”

“I don't have a gun,” Lille muttered darkly, although if her life was going to continue in this vein, she was going to get one.

“I'm sure you'll figure something out,” he suggested laconically. “I saw what you did to your ex the other night. I wouldn't want to piss you off.”

Twenty minutes
later, he pulled into the valet
station of a small boutique hotel and tossed his keys to a young man with blond hair.

Another boy, this one equally handsome, opened her door for her, then jumped back when he saw the snakes.

Lille thought about asking them to call the police or a cab—or something—but if Carl's gallery wasn't far away, she would just walk. She didn't think Benson would do anything drastic to stop her, and if he did, she'd knee him in the balls and run.

She put one leg outside the car and stood carefully, with the boy's help. “Okay, now where is—”

Benson took her arm with one hand and handed the kid a tip with the other. “Thanks, Manuel.”

He pulled her aside, next to the revolving doors. “Listen, Lille. The old man is dying, and he wants to talk to you. I promise nothing will happen to you. The staff knows me, and I've already asked them to watch to make sure. I promise. All is well. This is your chance to find out what he wants and maybe get a little peace. I'm betting you could use some.”

Lille struggled between terror and outrage. This was fucking ridiculous. She was tired of being at the mercy of these men, tired of being afraid of them. She wanted to run, ridiculous headpiece and all.

“You're really afraid, aren't you?” he asked.

Lille swallowed but managed a contemptuous look. “I have good reason.”

He looked slightly ashamed. “I promise nothing is going to happen to you.” He took her elbow.

“Your promise doesn't mean anything to me,” she hissed, and shook off his hand. She straightened, throwing her shoulders back. Max's did, though, she realized, and if she was going to consider making promises to him, she had to take care of this first.

Max hadn't
planned on leaving the pub. He'd
set everything up; he'd hired temporary staff to deal with the crowds; he'd been pulling pints and sweating along with everyone else. One of the girls he'd hired for the evening, a blonde with a nose ring, had been working beside him behind the bar, and when he'd turned to give her a bottle of Bulmers, he'd almost called her Lille.

He stopped before he made the mistake, but he felt empty, knowing she wasn't there, may not ever be there again, serving drinks beside him. Suddenly, it wasn't enough that he told her he'd take a chance on her. He'd read enough to know that if he was going to fall in love with a damn goddess, he was bound to have to walk through a little fire to win her heart. It was goddamn ridiculous to think that saying “I love you” would change a lifetime of stubbornness, but it was worth a try, anyway. She was worth that much, even if it meant a hit to his pride.

His phone rang, and he answered it automatically, hoping it was Lille.

“Max? Why haven't you been answering your phone?” Carl's voice sounded panicked.

“What's wrong?”

“Lille's been kidnapped.”

“What?”

“Her date. He's a PI. He's taking her to meet her father.”

“A PI kidnapped her?”

“He won't hurt her. I know him—and I promise I'll kill him later.”

Max gritted his teeth. “Where did he take her?”

“I'm not sure. Somewhere near the gallery, I think. He said they wouldn't be far.”

Max had heard enough. He hung up.

“Kyle,” he shouted, tossing the kid the keys to the bar, “you're in charge.”

“Where the fuck are you going?” Kyle shouted after him, panicked, but Max just pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the hands that patted and groped, ignoring the calls for him to play, to have a drink, to meet up in the bathroom.

He escaped just as another crowd of people was heading up the sidewalk. He'd parked his truck in the Publix lot a block away, wanting to free up as much parking as possible, and he ran for it, clearing a low hedge of bushes along the way.

Once he was in his truck, it took him a half hour in Miami traffic to make it to Carl's gallery, cursing every damn tourist who got in his way.

He shouldered his way through the line to get into the party. It seemed as if half of Miami had shown up. The bouncer recognized him and let him through into the house, which had been decorated to look like a haunted mansion. Max looked around at the pockets of people, scanning the stairs, the costumes, but he didn't see Lille. Carl suddenly appeared to his left, his face frantic.

“Where are they?”

“They've got to be at La Rosa; it's a boutique hotel, about a block south and around the corner.”

Max took off running, Carl close on his heels. He dodged overhanging trees and tried not to trip on the old cracked sidewalk as he ran. It was the longest block of his life, and Max was never more grateful that he'd quit smoking when he reached the lobby in less than two minutes, only slightly short of breath.

The doorman tried to head him off. Max supposed he looked a little crazed, wearing a tie with dancing hula girls and suspenders, but Carl waved at the doorman and he opened the door with a
whoosh
.

The two of them rushed into the plush, air-conditioned lobby, and they spotted Lille right away. She was tough to miss, sitting straight-backed in a black-and-white-striped chair with an insane headpiece made of snakes writhing on top of her head.

Max waved for Carl to slow down, wanting to give her a chance, if she wasn't in trouble, to face the man she'd feared for so long.

They moved so that they were standing behind a huge planter, near enough to hear without seeming too much as if they were eavesdropping.

“Just what
is it you want from me?”
she was demanding, her voice icy cold, perfect.

Lille's father certainly didn't look healthy. He was still thin and spare, but his flesh seemed to have grayed and sunken, so he appeared to be nothing more than folds of skin hung on a wire frame. Two hulking bodyguards stood near him, eyeing Lille with appreciation.

Lille was having difficulty breathing. Her father sat in front of her, a skeleton of a man, far from the monster she'd imagined as a child. And yet there was something in his eyes, a flatness that she'd seen in her own expression on occasion, a flatness that came with not caring.

“You look like your mother used to,” he informed her.

“I know I do,” Lille agreed, more glad than ever to have her mother's looks now that she'd met her father. She didn't want him to know she was afraid. It helped to be in costume, helped her play Lille with all the panache of a Hollywood movie star. “Now, what is it you want so badly that you've come across the country?”

“Ahh.” He shifted in his chair and adjusted the knob on his oxygen tank. “What I wanted, I thought you wouldn't understand. I wanted to explain. In person.”

“How kind of you.” Lille gave him a smile that showed a lot of teeth. “Now what is it?”

“I wanted to know if you'd come back with me.”

Lille glanced at the hulking bodyguards, then back at Benson. Had the PI been lying to her? Was she going to be taken for real?

Lille shifted, just a little, wondering if she could run in her costume. Wondering how they could possibly take her without the hotel staff calling the police. Unless they were in on it, she supposed. Money bought a lot of cooperation. “Why would I do that?”

“You're my only child. My only heir.”

“Heir?”

“I'm leaving everything to you. The business, everything.”

“I don't want it.” Lille shook her head. “I don't want anything from you.” Although Lille had never fully grasped what her father did, she knew she wanted none of it. And she certainly wanted nothing from him.

“Doesn't matter.” He laughed. “In my kind of business, people will come looking for you when I'm gone. It would be better if I could show you things. Let you know how the business works, so to speak.”

“I don't want it,” she snapped. “None of it.”

“Maybe you should think about it. If you don't come, I'll leave it to you, anyway, and all the scum, the crooks and the killers, will be seeking you out for one reason or another.”

“Don't threaten me, Father.” Lille spat out the name like a curse and stood, the combination of her height and headpiece making her tower over the man. The two bodyguards moved closer.

She backed away, moving toward the door and keeping an eye on the hotel employees. They were all blatantly watching the proceedings, but no one was stepping forward.

“I don't care what you do. I've been running because of you my whole life, but I refuse,
refuse,
to run anymore, for any reason, so you can take your inheritance, old man, and shove it.” She turned on her heel to leave, but one of the bodyguards grabbed at her elbow. She resisted, peeling his fingers away with her nails.

Benson interceded. “Hey, enough. I didn't bring her here for this.”

Lille hurried away, leaving Benson to his own devices, and nearly ran into Max.

“Max,” Lille said. It was all she said, but it was a sigh and a prayer and a curse all at the same time.

He took her arm, escorting her out as if he were a gentleman and she the finest of ladies. Behind them, Carl was cursing a blue streak at Benson, who'd hurried to follow her. When they walked outside, the valets had pulled up Benson's car. Max took the keys and led Lille to it, handing her in.

“Hey—” Benson exclaimed behind them, but Max ignored him.

Lille rolled down the window while Max walked over to the driver's seat. “Carl, darling?”

Carl approached, dragging Benson with him. “Yes, Lille, my magnificent goddess.”

Lille pointed one carefully manicured finger in Benson's direction. “He needs to be punished.”

“Of course he does, darling,” Carl agreed. “I'll see to it.”

Max had already started driving off, but he laughed.

BOOK: Cursed
4.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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