No Returns (2 page)

“I’m sure you can,” she said as she got up and went to retrieve her purse. She pulled her keys out. “Be helpful and get my luggage out of the trunk.”

“What for?”

“I’m having some renovations done at the penthouse. There was a problem with my room at the Breakers. It won’t be ready for three days and the Palm Beach Resort is full. I’ll just be here a few days. You won’t even notice me.”

Right. Like you don’t notice chlamydia.

“You’re staying here? With me?”

She stiffened. “Am I not welcome?”

I let out a breath. “Of course. You just caught me off-guard.”

“Then please get my luggage while I speak with Mr. McGarrity.”

“Liam,” he corrected.

I took the keys. Snatched them actually. Liam got to chat and I got to play bellman. I went outside, my way guided by motion-activated security lights and went to the Bentley.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I grumbled. There were three trunk-sized suitcases in the car. And they were heavy. Any airline would have charged her an additional fee. I hoisted the first one up, out and let it thud onto the driveway. I did the same with the other two, and then closed the trunk. At least they had wheels.

I had no choice but to roll them one at a time up the steps and past the two of them. My mother was on one sofa; Liam was on the other. He was relaxed, his arms draped over the back of the sofa. My mother was in her usual prim position. There was a DVD sitting on the coffee table along with a folded piece of paper.

By the time I rolled the third luggage-zilla into the house, my curiosity was piqued. I rolled it into the guest room, which was now barely navigable with all the suitcases. I slipped my shoes off and did the adult thing. I went to the end of the hallway and listened in.

I heard my mother’s voice. “. . . and it must be paid in five days.”

“And you’re willing to pay?” Liam asked.

“Of course. I can’t possibly have that . . .
that
come out.”

“So what is it you want from me?”

“I want you to be the one to deliver the money and make sure there are no more copies. That’s essential.”

I came around the corner. “Copies of what?”

“Finley, this doesn’t concern you and I don’t appreciate you eavesdropping.”

“Couldn’t be helped. You’re asking my . . . my
friend
to deliver money, probably putting his life in danger. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to ask why.”

My mother shifted slightly to face me. That funny look was in her eyes again. “Fine. I’m being blackmailed and Mr. McGa –
Liam
is going to act as my go-between.”

“Blackmailed over what? Did you wear the wrong shoes to play bridge? I have an idea. Why don’t you call the police?”

My mother’s mouth pulled into a taut line. “The blackmail information is sensitive.”

“You’re the most proper person on the planet. What could you possibly be into that would draw the interest of a blackmailer?”

Liam picked up the DVD. “Your mother has a sex tape.”

M
y shoes hit
the floor with a thud that resonated in the loud silence of the moment. I’m sure my eyes were as wide as saucers as my gaze flip-flopped between my mother’s face and the DVD case Liam was holding in his hand.

As soon as I remembered how to talk again, I asked, “You made a sex tape?”

My mother adamantly shook her head. Not a single lacquered hair slipped out of place. “It was taped without our knowledge.”

“You and the doctor from the country club?” She’d been circling an anesthesiologist for months.

“No. The gentleman on the tape is Deacon Barrington, III. Of the Rhode Island Barringtons.”

I gave her a blank look.

She sighed. “Chemicals. Great, great, great, great grandfather made millions during the Gilded Age. Deacon is an heir.”

My mother’s kind off pedigree. “And exactly when did this start?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t tell you everything, Finley.” She gave a nod in Liam’s direction. “And apparently that is reciprocal.”

“Why haven’t you called the police?” I asked.

My mother scoffed. “And make this public? That is the last thing I want to happen.”

“How can you be sure the blackmailer won’t keep a copy so he can keep hitting you up for money?”

“I’m hoping Liam can prevent that. Deacon and I are willing to pay, but I need to know all copies have been destroyed.”

“Do I want to know how much?” I asked.

“Five hundred thousand dollars each.”

“Jesus Christ Mom, that’s a lot of money.” Not to mention a hunk of my inheritance. Assuming she doesn’t leave everything to Lisa so she can save the world.

“It’s better than the alternative,” she insisted. “My reputation would be ruined.”

“Your reputation is worth a half-million dollars?”

Liam raked his hands through his hair. “Technically it’s a million if you add in Deacon’s half.”

“Why is he so willing to pay?”

My mother uncrossed and recrossed her ankles. I was mildly distracted by the red soles of her thousand dollar shoes.

“Deacon is in the middle of a divorce. If this comes out now it could complicate things for him. There’s a prenup in place that includes monetary penalties for adultery.”

I sat down on the sofa next to Liam. Our thighs brushed together. I looked him directly in the eyes. “Do you honestly think you can find the blackmailer and insure you can get every copy of this tape?”

He shrugged, causing the soft fabric of his faded Tommy Bahama shirt to pull taut against his impressive chest. “Probably. I’ve got almost four days plus the drop off if I need it to get the job done. I’ll need your help.” He reached over and covered my hand with his.

“Doing what?”

“You’ve got databases at your office that can run a more thorough backgrounds than I can. As soon as I have some names, you can check them out while I do the legwork.”

“Starting with whom?”

“Do you know where the footage was shot?” Liam asked my mother.

She nodded. “Deacon’s suite at the Palm Beach Resort and Spa.”

“Any idea when?”

“A week ago,” she answered. “I recognized my . . .
apparel
.”

An image flashed through my brain. It wasn’t pretty. “And you didn’t notice a camera?”

My mother pursed her lips for a second. “Obviously if I had, this vile tape would not exist.”

“Have you ever been fingerprinted?” Liam asked.

“Lord no,” my mother replied rather indignantly. “Why?”

“I’ve got a friend in latent prints and it could be your blackmailer left his prints on the note.”

My mother seemed to relax a bit. “How long does that take?”

“A couple of days,” he answered. “Finley, do you have a bottle of water?”

“Sure,” I said as I stood and went to retrieve it from the kitchen. “Here”

Liam wiped the bottle down with the hem of his shirt, then told my mother how to put her hands so he could get elimination prints. “Has anyone else touched this?”

“No. Well, yes. I showed it to Deacon.”

“Where is Deacon?” I asked.

“He went to the Caymans to withdraw money from his account to pay the blackmailer. He’ll be back Sunday.”

Liam picked up the note by the top corner and studied it.

It was on plain twenty-pound white bond. Letters and numbers had been cut out of newspapers and magazines. It read:

Enjoy the show. Have five-hundred thousand ready by Monday. You’ll receive further instructions. Do not contact the police or the video will go viral.

“Probably someone young,” I suggested.

“Why would you say that?” my mother asked.

“Viral? Do you even know what that means?”

She let out a long breath. “I asked my doorman. He explained it to me.”

Liam gently placed the blackmail note on the table next to the DVD. “How did they make contact?”

“The letter was delivered via a messenger service.”

“Do you know which one?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t pay attention. I just went down to the lobby and signed for it.”

“Did it come like this?” he asked.

“No. It was in a regular white envelope. My name was written in block letters in black ink.”

“Do you still have the envelope?”

“At my home. I left it on the counter. I can get it when I go back tomorrow. I’ve got to check to see if the blackmailer has sent instructions. The building concierge has my permission to sign for anything that arrives.”

“Can you tell him to make a note of the messenger service?” I asked.

“Certainly. If you think it will help.”

“It’s not like we have a lot to go on,” I pointed out.

“We have enough to get started,” Liam said. “I’ve got to watch the tape.”

At the mere thought of doing that made me want to stick pencils in my eyes. “Not here,” I insisted.

“Is that really necessary?” my mother asked as a slight blush tinted her cheeks.

“Afraid so. Do you think you can remember the names of anyone who serviced your room at the resort? Maids, room service?”

My mother nervously tapped one perfectly manicured finger against her leg. “Faces, yes. Names, I doubt it. There was a butler on call. A maid. The bellman. A woman who delivered room service. And of course the front desk staff. Oh, and we had drinks at the bar one night.”

“I’ll go to the hotel tomorrow, take some pictures and get some names,” Liam said. “I’ll forward them to your phone,” he told me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call the police?” I asked.

“No, I just want this over with quickly and quietly. If the police get involved, there could be a trial and then the tape would be public. That’s precisely what I
don’t
want to happen.”

Liam carefully gathered up the note, the bottle and the DVD, then moved to the door. “Walk me out?”

Disappointment weighed heavily on me. This was supposed to be a hot and heavy reunion. Instead I was knee deep in my mother’s problems.

I’d known Liam for more than a year. And in that year our attraction had exploded. We were still feeling it all out. We hadn’t even exchanged house keys yet. Baby steps. I didn’t realize that being burned by my jackass ex-fiancé had left me so skittish. It was either that or I was still grappling with the relationship between Liam and his ex-wife. Right now, none of that mattered. Once we were alone outside all I wanted to do was feel his kiss.

As soon as he’d put the items in his vintage Mustang, he turned to me. Liam’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin just below my earlobe. The feel of his feather-light kisses drew my stomach into a knot of anticipation. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the glorious sensations. His grip tightened as his tongue traced a path up to my ear. My breath caught when Liam teasingly nibbled the edge of my lobe.

His hands traveled up and rested against my ribcage. I swallowed the moan rumbling in my throat. I was aware of everything – his fingers; the feel of his solid body molded against mine; the magical kisses.

“You smell wonderful,” he said against my super-heated skin.

“So do you,” I managed in a breathy voice. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

His forehead rested against mine. “Not as sorry as I am. How long is she staying?”

“Why?”

“Because I have a feeling there’s no sex in my future with your mother in the guestroom.”

“Smart man. I’m sorry.”

He stepped back a fraction of an inch and cupped my face in his palm. The pad of his thumb gently stroked my cheek, warming my entire body. As if it needed any more warmth. When his hand slipped away, I felt a shroud of disappointment settle in the pit of my stomach.

“Sure you don’t want to come to my place?” he asked with a sexy half-smile.

“Of course I want to but I can’t.”

“Got it. I’ll text you the pictures tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

The Mustang started up with a billow of smoke and the loud growl of the engine. It was Liam’s pet project. I thought it was scrap metal. Must be a guy thing.

When I returned to the house, my mother was still seated on the couch. She’d refilled her wine and was sipping from the glass.

“You didn’t eat much,” I said as I picked my shoes up off the floor. “Speaking of which. What do you like for breakfast?” Somehow I didn’t think she’d like my version of breakfast – four cups of coffee and a handful of Lucky Charms.

“Just fruit and coffee will be fine.”

I slipped my shoes on. “I need to go to Publix. Is there anything else you’d like to have? Something in the house for lunch?”

“I’m having lunch with Muffy Tarleton tomorrow. We’re co-chairing the Heart Association benefit.”

Interesting for a woman without a heart, but okay. “I’ll only be gone a little while. Make yourself at home.”

“It’s been a taxing day. I think I’ll attempt to bathe in that small powder room.”

I considered offering to let her use my fabulous tub with the endless waterfall edges but spite got the better of me. “Enjoy yourself.” I grabbed my keys and my purse. “If you think of something, call my cell.”

“All I can think of is your paramour watching that tape. It is quite disconcerting.”

“For both of us,” I mumbled. “Paramour? Are we in Victorian England?”

“Well, what do you call him?”

“Liam.”

“How long has this been going on? And what about that nice attorney in your office?”

I sighed heavily. “That nice attorney is just that. A nice guy.” A very hot nice guy. “I work for Tony. Liam and I have . . . well we are . . . it’s hard to define.”

“What kind of family does he come from?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did he go to college?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he financially secure?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well what do you know about him?”

I met her disapproving gaze. “I know he curls my toes. Anything else?”

“Excuse me for taking an interest. You’re almost thirty, Finley. You’ve already gone through one fiancé, how much longer are you going to wait?”

“I’ll know when I know. Why are you grilling me? I’m not the one with the sex tape floating around.”