Luxury Model Wife (21 page)

“You still think with your dick, Carlson.”

“Better to be a dick than an asshole. You think you can put the moves on Victoria and I’ll let that pass?”

“Moves? What moves?”

“
A-hem
.” Victoria cleared her throat. “Do I have anything to say about this, you two idiots?”

Jimmy’s expression changed from smugly superior to whipped Golden Retriever in a flash. Steve felt like a beleaguered hound dog. Victoria was clearly unhappy with him.

Again.

“What makes you think this is about you?” Victoria glared, and Steve felt his skin melt from his bones.

“Ah…”

She glanced from one man to the other. “Or you, Jimmy.” She shot him a look that should have curled his hair.

Her gaze returned to Steve’s face. She pointed a manicured fingernail he could have sworn flashed lightning.

“What you both forget is that this has
never
been about either of you.” She glanced from one man to the other and then gestured to the portrait hanging on a foyer wall. “This is about
James
and his memory.”

Victoria spun on her heels and moved toward the stairwell. She placed one hand on the banister and turned before climbing the steps. “You can leave now. I’m going to rest.” She nodded to Beverly. “Thanks for coming, Beverly. Please excuse me.”

An arctic chill rushed through the room. Steve knew that if he didn’t act fast he might never get another chance to make amends. “You’re right, Victoria. I came here to talk to you and I blew it.”

He met her eyes and willed his expression to communicate the depth of his sorrow about, well, everything.

He’d once told Victoria he’d make no claims on either her or her money. He had no right to issue demands. If she chose Jimmy over him, that was her decision to make. It would hurt, but he couldn’t force her to love him.

Steve sighed in resignation. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe this was justice for his sins of the past. “I screwed up—I know that. But you’ve turned my life inside out. I’m nuts about you.”

She closed her eyes in acknowledgement and then continued her way up the stairs.

Steve headed out the front door. Beverly followed and Jimmy brought up the rear. Steve started his Chevy and waited while Beverly buckled her seatbelt. She reached over and punched him on the shoulder. “I
told
you not to lose your temper.”

Steve grimaced. He was feeling worse by the second. He glanced out his window in time to see Jimmy start his Porsche.

Steve gunned his engine, shifted his Chevy into drive, and sped away before Jimmy could move his car.

“Congratulations, now you’ve screwed things up royally.” Beverly sucked her teeth in disgust as they entered the cross street at Route 202. She slapped Steve’s arm again. “How in the hell will you fix this?”

“You’re the psychic, maybe you can tell me.” He winced at his own sarcasm.

Beverly’s reply was uncharacteristically prickly. “I’m not psychic, remember? That’s just our private joke. I practice
psychometrics
. There’s a difference.” She poked his elbow. “So don’t blame me for your mistakes.” She turned away to stare out the window.

Now he really felt like shit. He didn’t know it was possible to make Beverly mad. “Sorry, Bev. Maybe I am a dick. I’m a catastrophe with women.”

He lowered his voice a notch. “But, damn, Jimmy had his arm around her and that didn’t sit right.”

Beverly said nothing for several seconds. She sighed then and turned his way. “You were beaten, robbed, and then lost the woman you love. I guess you’re entitled to a little slack.” She rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “You’re no dummy. You’ll figure things out.”

“Yeah, I was almost a doctor once.”

“And doctors patch things up, right?”

*****

The next day, Steve stopped by the police station. He wanted to see his friend Lieutenant Leighton and learn if the police had made progress.

His friend was upbeat. “Good news, Carlson. We got a warrant to search the store, homes, and warehouse of Pinnacle Antiques Auction. It’s a good thing you reported Vega’s threat. Mrs. Van Orr’s previous report about a possible prowler and Flynn’s assault on her gave us something to work with. If it wasn’t for that, the judge wouldn’t have signed the papers. He was reluctant, but finally gave us what we needed.”

Leighton rubbed the side of his nose. “There’s absolutely no forensic evidence, though, and we haven’t found a single witness.”

“Except the bird.”

Leighton chuffed like Steve had told a joke. “Maybe we’ll discover something. Though, most likely, the goods are long gone.”

Steve hung his head. “Probably.”

“I was just heading out to the diner to grab some lunch. Want to come along? I need to make two quick stops on the way.”

“Sure.”

The men climbed into a patrol car, drove a few blocks, and parked on Chestnut Street near the Historical Society. The lieutenant lowered the windows and turned off the ignition. “Be right back. The curator volunteered to help with your case. She’s keeping an eye out for stolen goods fenced through the museum circuit.”

“Great idea. Tell her thanks for me.”

Leighton smiled. “Just your tax doughnuts and coffee dollars at work, my friend.”

Steve laughed. “I’ve never seen you eat a doughnut in your life. You’re in better shape now than you were in high school.”

“I like breaking the suburban cop stereotype. Keeps the citizenry on their toes.” He opened the driver’s side door and got out. “Won’t be but a few minutes. With the windows open you should get enough air to stay cool.”

Steve sat back in the passenger seat and tried to get comfortable. His ribs still hurt and his muscles ached. Too bad over-the-counter pain reliever couldn’t cure the pain in his heart.

He thought about Victoria and the night they’d danced together. Her lovely face stared up at him, her brown eyes shining with the first signs of happiness he’d seen in them since he met her. Her smile had made him feel more like a man than he’d ever felt in his life.

Victoria had told him the most private details of her upbringing that night. She’d shared her haunted and violent past, seeming to expect rejection in return.

How had he had repaid her trust? Not only had his security system failed, he’d breached her personal space and started a fight with Jimmy inside her house.

Steve rubbed his face with his bruised hands, feeling worse than he had in a long time. He would do anything for a chance to regain Victoria’s trust. He closed his eyes and remembered her big brown eyes and soft mouth, her arms outstretched to hold him.

A surge of adrenaline shot through him. He had to see her and make amends. Right now.

He reached for the door handle.

As if she’d been conjured from his daydream, Victoria walked down the sidewalk toward the intersections of Chestnut and Market. She was dressed in a sleek, blue cotton skirt and crisp white blouse, red pumps, and matching handbag. In her other hand she carried a large satchel. She stopped at the traffic light and looked up at the pedestrian crosswalk signal. Then she turned to look back over her shoulder, as if she sensed being watched.

Steve’s heart pounded. He had to talk to her. He unlocked the door and jumped out of the car as the pedestrian light called the foot traffic forward. Victoria stepped off the curb. Steve wanted to run, but he couldn’t abandon the patrol car. The windows were open and he didn’t have the keys.

He watched Victoria walk away and looked back at the police cruiser. What the hell was he going to do?

*****

Victoria Van Orr strode toward the women’s shelter. Her work with displaced women and their children gave her a sense of purpose and would keep her focused. She was sick of men and tired of trying to please them. To hell with them all.

Her heels tapped a rhythm on the pavement.
To hell with men, to hell with men
. She sang the song in her head to stop thinking about Steve Carlson. She cared deeply about him, and hoped he was okay, but she needed a break.

Victoria continued her trek along the stately, tree-lined streets of West Chester. The shelter stood half a block away, wedged behind a flower shop and a bakery in a three-story, brick-front apartment building nearly invisible from the sidewalk.

The shelter’s address wasn’t posted outside, listed in a phone directory or anywhere online. This was a safe house, designed for anonymity and protection. The women and children who stayed inside rebuilt their shattered lives, broken hearts, and wounded bodies in privacy and solitude.

A noise from the alleyway on Victoria’s left startled her from her thoughts and she turned toward the sound. A gaunt man with salt-and-pepper hair and rheumy eyes stepped from the mouth of the alley. His sallow skin looked like melted wax. Victoria assumed he was homeless, and let down her guard, while she continued her way. Other pedestrians passed her by.

The man called out, “Victoria. Don’t walk away from me.”

She froze. Her heart pounded as fear weakened her knees. Her breathing labored until she could hardly breathe.

Daddy.
She hadn’t recognized him, since time and whiskey, and who knew what else, had ravaged his once handsome face. But his voice was almost the same—cold and commanding, bludgeoning her with its sound. A flood of terrible memories almost sent her reeling.

Suddenly, she was a little girl again, shivering inside her bedroom closet. Perspiration dotted her upper lip while the inside of her mouth went dry. Her hands trembled and her fingers loosened on to the bag she carried. Fight or flight? She wanted to run, but the weakness in her legs rooted her to the spot.

All her life she’d hidden from her father. She’d prepared for the day she could strike back, vowing she’d never take another beating outside the boxing ring. She’d become a skilled combatant, in the best physical shape of her life. In
his
dissipated condition, she could take him down with two solid punches.

Yet he’d disarmed her with a single command.

A recent memory flashed. She recalled the man she’d seen with Flynn at the restaurant down the street from Carlson’s. Had he been her father? How long had he been stalking her?

Victoria staggered toward the nearest parked car.
Flight.
She gripped the hood and steadied herself against the vehicle, dropping the satchel she carried as a full-blown panic attack loomed.

Why had he come here?

The answer whispered through her brain:
You know why
.
He smelled your inheritance from whatever sewer he crawled from. He sent Arnold Flynn to find you. He promised a share of the money in exchange for Flynn’s services.

Her stomach turned over. Tears of rage and shame burned her eyes.
You’d think after all these years I’d be hardened to him.

He shuffled forward. “You sick?”

She took a strangled breath. “Go away. Stay away from me.”

“I jus’ wanna talk.”

“No. That can’t be true. That’s never been true. Leave me alone before I call the police.” She raised her head and met his bleary eyes. “I have nothing to say to you except
go to hell
.” She moved sideways along the parked car to stay out of range of Benjamin Franklin Slater.

“Is that any way to talk to your old man? I’d hoped we’d have a little reunion.”

Victoria’s skin crawled. “Did you send Flynn to find me?”

His eyes glinted with malice as he moved closer. “It was easy, once he found your mother.”

Victoria’s heart hammered, but she fought to keep her voice steady. “You went to see her?”

“Sure.” He smiled again, showing teeth stained by drugs and neglect. “A few times. The girl’s still got it.”

“She let you stay with her?” That meant he knew about the monthly checks Victoria sent.

She wanted to raise her fists or shift her feet into a fighting stance, but she couldn’t move. Her father had bullied money from her mother, and might have hurt her in the process. Now he wanted his share.

“You’ve done real well for yourself. I know all about the fine life you married into. I’ve been waiting for my chance to talk to you,
Mrs. Van Orr
.” He gestured like a courtier. “And here you are.”

He laughed, and the gravelly sound made her blood turn to ice. “You’re rich. I’m your father. It’s only right that you help me out. I’m not asking to visit you in your fancy house. You don’t have to pretend you know me. Just pay me, like you pay your mother, and I’ll stay out of your life.”

He sucked his rancid teeth and the sound made Victoria wince. “Otherwise, I might just stay awhile. Maybe introduce myself around town.” He coughed and held his fist to his mouth. “All I want is what’s fair.”

Fair?

Victoria’s lethargy evaporated as self-preservation, fueled by adrenaline, hit her system. She rushed forward in blind fury and released a series of bloodthirsty screams.

*****

Lieutenant Leighton pulled the patrol car to the curb and rammed the transmission into park at the sound of the woman’s screams. Steve Carlson jumped from the passenger seat.

“
Victoria.”
He ran toward her. The man she chased in her high-heeled shoes had disappeared into an alley. Leighton sprinted after him.

Victoria’s fists were raised for combat, but her eyes were glazed, and she failed to recognize him. When Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to his chest, she tried to fight him off, but he murmured words of comfort until she ran out of steam.

Finally, when he feared his strength would fail, she gasped for air and her eyes refocused. Her body went limp before her tears broke. She trembled and sobbed against his shoulder.

Steve caressed her hair, rubbed her shoulders, and ran his hands down her back to calm her.

She choked out the words, “For years I’ve dreamed about killing him.” She leaned into him. “Instead of giving him what he deserves…I fell apart.” Her chest shuddered against his. “I came unglued…when I should have murdered the bastard.”

Steve kissed the crown of Victoria’s head. “You’re not murdering anyone. Exorcising a demon, maybe.” He lifted her chin and searched her face. “You’re stronger than he is.”