Night Smoke (4 page)

“I can’t even think of that now.” He stopped, blinked. “Jesus, Nat, the files, the records.”

“I don’t think we’re going to salvage any of the paperwork that was in the warehouse.” She looked back toward her building. “It’s going to make things more complicated, add some work hours, but we’ll put it back together.”

“But how can we manage the audit when—”

“It goes on the back burner until we’re up and running. We’ll talk about it back at the office. As soon as I meet the insurance agent, get the ball rolling, I’m heading back in.” Already her mind was working out the details, the steps and stages. “We’ll put on some double shifts, order new material, pull in some inventory from Chicago and Atlanta. We’ll make it work, Donald. Lady’s Choice is going to open in April, come hell or high water.”

His smile flashed into a grin. “If anybody can make it work, you can.”

“
We
can,” she told him. “Now I need you to get back uptown, start making calls.” PR, she knew,
was his strong suit. He was overly impulsive perhaps, but she needed the action-oriented with her now. “You get Melvin and Deirdre hopping, Donald. Bribe or threaten distributors, plead with the union, soothe the clients. That’s what you do best.”

“I’m on it. You can count on me.”

“I know I can. I’ll be in the office soon to crack the whip.”

*  *  *

Boyfriend? Ry wondered as he watched the two embrace. The tall, polished executive with the pretty face and shiny shoes looked to be her type.

As a matter of course, he noted down the license number of the Lincoln beside Natalie’s car, then went back to work.

“She’s going to be here any minute.” Assistant District Attorney Deborah O’Roarke Guthrie put fisted hands on her hips. “I want the whole story, Gage, before Natalie gets here.”

Gage added another log to the fire before he turned to his wife. She’d changed out of her business suit into soft wool slacks and a cashmere sweater of midnight blue. Her ebony hair fell loose, nearly to her shoulders.

“You’re beautiful, Deborah. I don’t tell you that often enough.”

She lifted a brow. Oh, he was a smooth operator, and charming. And clever. But so was she. “No evasions, Gage. You’ve managed to avoid telling me everything you know so far, but—”

“You were in court all day,” he reminded her. “I was in meetings.”

“That’s beside the point. I’m here now.”

“You certainly are.” He walked to her, slipped his arms through hers and circled her waist. His lips curved as they lowered to hers. “Hello.”

More than two years of marriage hadn’t diluted her response to him. Her mouth softened, parted, but then she remembered herself and stepped back. “No, you don’t. Consider yourself under oath and in the witness chair, Guthrie. Spill it. I know you were there.”

“I was there.” Annoyance flickered in his eyes before he crossed over to pour mineral water for Deborah. Yes, he’d been there, he thought. Too late.

He had his own way of combating the dark side of Urbana. The gift—or the curse—he’d been left
with after surviving what should have been a fatal shooting gave him an edge. He’d been a cop too long to close his eyes to injustice. Now, with the odd twist fate had dealt him, he fought crime his own way, with his own special talent.

Deborah watched him stare down at his hand, flex it. It was an old habit, one that told her he was thinking of how he could make it, make himself fade to nothing.

And when he did, he was Nemesis, a shadow that haunted the streets of Urbana, a shadow that had slipped into her life, and her heart as real and as dear to her as the man who stood before her.

“I was there,” he repeated, and poured a glass of wine for himself. “But too late to do anything. I didn’t beat the first engine company by more than five minutes.”

“You can’t always be first on the scene, Gage,” Deborah murmured. “Even Nemesis isn’t omnipotent.”

“No.” He handed her the glass. “The point is, I didn’t see who started the fire. If indeed it was arson.”

“Which you believe it was.”

He smiled again. “I have a suspicious mind.”

“So do I.” She tapped her glass against his. “I wish there was something I could do for Natalie. She’s worked so hard to get this new company off the ground.”

“You’re doing something,” Gage told her. “You’re here. And she’ll fight back.”

“That’s one thing you can count on.” She tilted her head. “I don’t suppose anyone saw you around the warehouse last night.”

Now he grinned. “What do you think?”

She blew out a breath. “I think I’ll never quite get used to it.” When the doorbell sounded, Deborah set her glass aside. “I’ll get it.” She hurried to the door, then opened her arms to Natalie. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“I wouldn’t miss one of Frank’s meals for anything.” Determined to be cheerful, Natalie kissed
Deborah, then linked arms with her as they walked back into the sitting room. She offered her host a brilliant smile. “Hello, gorgeous.”

She kissed Gage, as well, accepted the drink he offered and a seat by the fire. She sighed once. A beautiful house, a beautiful couple, so incredibly in love. Natalie told herself if she were inclined toward domesticity, she might be envious.

“How are you coping?” Deborah asked her.

“Well, I love a challenge, and this is a big one. The bottom line is, Lady’s Choice will have its grand opening, nationwide, in three weeks.”

“I was under the impression that you lost quite a bit of merchandise,” Gage commented. Cloaked by the shadow of his gift, he’d watched her arrive at the scene the night before. “As well as the building.”

“There are other buildings.”

In fact, she had already arranged to purchase another warehouse. It would, even after the insurance payoff, put a dent in the estimated profits for the year. But they would make it up, Natalie thought. She would see to that.

“We’re going to be working overtime for a while to make up some of the losses. And I can pull some stock in from other locations. Urbana’s our flagship store. I intend for it to go off with a bang.”

She sipped her wine, running the stages through her mind. “I’ve got Donald with a phone glued to his ear. With his background in public relations, he’s the best qualified to beg and borrow. Melvin’s already flown out on a four-city jaunt to swing through the other plants and stores. He’ll work some of his wizardry in figuring who can spare what merchandise. And Deirdre’s working on the figures. I’ve talked to the union leaders, and some of the laborers. I intend to be back in full production within forty-eight hours.”

Gage toasted her. “If anyone can do it …” He was a businessman himself. Among other things. And knew exactly how much work, how much risk and how much sweat Natalie would face. “Is there
anything new on the fire itself?”

“Not specifically.” Frowning, Natalie glanced into the cheerful flames in the hearth. So harmless, she thought, so attractive. “I’ve talked with the investigator a couple of times. He implies, he interrogates and, by God, he irritates. But he doesn’t commit.”

“Ryan Piasecki,” Deborah stated, and it was her turn to smile. “I stole a few minutes today to do some checking on him. I thought you’d be interested.”

“Bless you.” Natalie leaned forward. “So, what’s the story?”

“He’s been with the department for fifteen years. Fought fires for ten, and worked his way up to lieutenant. A couple of smears in his file.”

Natalie’s lips curved smugly. “Oh, really?”

“Apparently he belted a city councilman at a fire scene. Broke his jaw.”

“Violent tendencies,” Natalie muttered. “I knew it.”

“It was what they call a class C fire,” Deborah continued. “In a chemical plant. Piasecki was with engine company 18, and they were the first to respond. There was no backup. Economic cutbacks,” she added as Natalie’s brows knit. “Number 18 lost three men in that fire, and two more were critically injured. The councilman showed up with the press in tow and began to pontificate on our system at work. He’d spearheaded the cutbacks.”

Damn it. Natalie blew out a breath. “I guess I’d have belted him, too.”

“There was another disciplinary action when he stormed into the mayor’s office with a bagful of fire-site salvage and dumped it on the desk. It was from a low-rent apartment building on the east side, that had just passed inspection—even though the wiring was bad, the furnace faulty. No smoke alarms. Broken fire escapes. Twenty people died.”

“I wanted you to tell me that my instincts were on target,” Natalie muttered. “That I had a good reason for detesting him.”

“Sorry.” Deborah had developed a soft spot for men who fought crime and corruption in
untraditional manners. She shot Gage a look that warmed them both.

“Well.” Natalie sighed. “What else do you have on him?”

“He moved to the arson squad about five years ago. He has a reputation for being abrasive, aggressive and annoying.”

“That’s better.”

“And for having the nose of a bloodhound, the eyes of a hawk and the tenacity of a pit bull. He keeps digging and digging until he finds the answers. I’ve never had to use him in court, but I asked around. You can’t shake him on the stand. He’s smart. He writes everything down. Everything. And he remembers it. He’s thirty-six, divorced. He’s a team player who prefers to work alone.”

“I suppose it should make me feel better, knowing I’m in competent hands.” Natalie moved her shoulders restlessly. “But it doesn’t. I appreciate the profile.”

“No problem,” Deborah began, then broke off when the sound of crying came through the baby monitor beside her. “Sounds like the boss is awake. No, I’ll go,” she said when Gage got to his feet. “She just wants company.”

“Am I going to get a peek?” Natalie asked.

“Sure, come on.”

“I’ll tell Frank to hold dinner until you’re done.” With a frown in his eyes, Gage watched Natalie head upstairs with his wife.

“You know,” Natalie said as they started up to the nursery, “you look fabulous. I don’t see how you manage it all. A demanding career, a dynamic husband and all the social obligations that go with him, and the adorable Adrianna.”

“I could tell you it’s all a matter of time management and prioritizing.” With a grin, Deborah opened the door of the nursery. “But what it really comes down to is passion. For the job, for Gage, for our Addy. There’s nothing you can’t have, if you’re passionate about it.”

The nursery was a symphony of color. Murals on the ceiling told stories of princesses and magic
horses. Primary tones brightened the walls and bled into rainbows. With her hands gripped on the rail of her Jenny Lind crib, legs wobbling, ten-month-old Addy pouted, oblivious of the ambiance.

“Oh, sweetie.” Deborah reached down, picked her up to nuzzle. “Here you are, all wet and lonely.”

The pout transformed into a beaming, satisfied smile. “Mama.”

Natalie watched while Deborah laid Addy on the changing table.

“She’s prettier every time I see her.” Gently she brushed at the dark thatch of hair on the baby’s head. Pleased with the attention, Addy kicked her feet and began to babble.

“We’re thinking about having another.”

“Another?” Natalie blinked into Deborah’s glowing face. “Already?”

“Well, it’s still in the what-if stage. But we’d really like to have three.” She pressed a kiss to the soft curve of Addy’s neck, chuckling when she tugged on her hair. “I just love being a mother.”

“It shows. Can I?” Once the fresh diaper was in place, Natalie lifted the baby.

There was envy, she discovered, for this small miracle who curved so perfectly into her arms.

*  *  *

Two days later, Natalie was at her desk, a headache drumming behind her eyes. She didn’t mind it. The incessant throbbing pushed her forward.

“If the mechanic can’t repair the machines, get new ones. I want every seamstress on-line. No, tomorrow afternoon won’t do.” She tapped a pen on the edge of her desk, shifted the phone from ear to ear. “Today. I’ll be in myself by one to check on the new stock. I know it’s a madhouse. Let’s keep it that way.”

She hung up and looked at her three associates. “Donald?”

He skimmed a hand over his burnished hair. “The first ad runs in the
Times
on Saturday. Full-page, three-color. The ad, with necessary variations, will be running in the other cities simultaneously.”

“The changes I wanted?”

“Implemented. Catalogs shipped today. They look fabulous.”

“Yes, they do.” Pleased, Natalie glanced down at the glossy catalog on her desk. “Melvin?”

As was his habit, Melvin Glasky slipped off his rimless glasses, polishing them as he spoke. He was in his midfifties, addicted to bow ties and golf. He was thin of frame and pink of cheek, and sported a salt-and-pepper toupee that he naively believed was his little secret.

“Atlanta looks the best, though Chicago and LA are gearing up.” He gestured to the report on her desk. “I worked out deals with each location for inventory transfers. Not everybody was happy about it.” His lenses glinted like diamonds when he set them back on his nose. “The store manager in Chicago defended her stock like a mama bear. She didn’t want to give up one brassiere.”

Natalie’s lips twitched at his drawling pronunciation. “So?”

“So I blamed it on you.”

Natalie leaned back in her chair and chuckled. “Of course you did.”

“I told her that you wanted twice what you’d told me you needed. Which gave me negotiating room. She figured you should filch from catalog. I agreed.” His eyes twinkled. “Then I told her how you considered catalog sacred. Wouldn’t touch one pair of panties, because you wanted all catalog orders fulfilled within ten days of order. You’re inflexible.”

Her lips twitched again. In the eighteen months they’d worked together on this project, she’d come to adore Melvin. “I certainly am.”

“So I told her how I’d take the heat, and half of what you ordered.”

“You’d have made a hell of a politician, Melvin.”

“What do you think I am? In any case, you’ve got about fifty percent of your inventory back for the flagship store.”

“I owe you. Deirdre?”

“I’ve run the projected increases in payroll and material expenses.” Deirdre Marks tossed her flyaway ginger braid behind her shoulder. Her slightly flattened tones were pure Midwest, and her mind
was as quick and controlled as a high-tech computer. “Also the outlay for the new site and equipment. With the incentive bonuses you authorized, we’ll be in the red. I’ve done graphs—”