The Beautiful and the Wicked (26 page)

Fifteen minutes later, Lila returned with a fresh martini. But Elise Warren had already left, presumably in the Valentino dress that was no longer spread out on the bed. Lila stood by the cluttered vanity, a silver tray in her hand, watching the martini perspire and wondering what she should do. There was no point in tracking Elise down on this giant boat. By then the drink would be too warm, plus she'd probably forgotten she asked for one anyway.

Lila let out a beleaguered sigh, grabbed the drink, and took a large gulp. The sensation of the ice-­cold alcohol sliding down her throat was intensely pleasurable. Just as she was about to take another sip, Ben walked out of Elise's bathroom.

A small yelp of surprise popped out of Lila's mouth when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” they said simultaneously. Lila, caught drinking in the master suite, and Ben, caught doing God knows what in the master bathroom. Both were understandably edgy.

“I was just bringing Mrs. Warren a drink,” Lila said quickly, stumbling a bit on her words.

“But you decided to drink it yourself?” Ben asked, with a curious smile on his face.

“She wasn't here. And so I just thought, ‘To hell with it.' ” Lila paused, shaking off the humiliation she felt, as if she'd been caught in the act of committing a crime, and frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

Without missing a beat, Ben said, “I was looking for you. Sam said you were on your way here.”

Lila was confused. “But I didn't see Sam.”

Before she could say another word, Ben moved quickly toward her, until he stood a few inches away. Then he reached out and gripped her waist. “I wanted to tell you I was sorry. May I?” he asked, nodding to the drink Lila held between them.

She shrugged. “Sure.” He picked up the martini, took a small sip, and handed it back to Lila, who finished it off. Then he set the empty glass and the silver tray on Elise's vanity, causing a clatter as a ­couple of lipsticks fell to the floor.

“Sorry for what?” Lila asked.

“What?” Ben was distracted.

“You said you were sorry.”

“Right, of course. I wanted to apologize for judging you. For pushing you away.”

Lila knew what was happening: she'd caught Ben red-­handed, doing something illicit, and now he was trying to sweet-­talk his way out of it. But she wouldn't call him on anything. He'd caught her transporting drugs and using a false identity. She knew it was better to have him on her side than against her.

“I'm sorry, too,” she said. Although the only thing she was sorry for was getting caught.

Ben swept his fingers lightly down her cheek and over her lips. “Christ, you're so gorgeous,” he murmured, as if Lila's beauty caused him physical pain. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. Lila closed her eyes, seeing flashes of white light dance around the darkness. She grabbed him, pulling him close, kissing him deeply.

But then she shook herself out of this momentary madness, realizing she was still in Elise Warren's room. “Wait, we can't be here. What if she comes back?” Lila whispered.

“She won't,” Ben said. “Trust me.” He grabbed Lila around the waist, picking her up so that her feet were dangling inches above the floor, and carried her a ­couple of feet until her back was up against the door. With a resolute click, Lila heard the sound of Ben throwing the lock. She knew what was next.

And she was okay with it. She needed to make sure that Ben wouldn't use the information he had against her. And with every kiss, he was asking the same thing of her. They were negotiating a silent treaty of mutually assured destruction.

She was, in fact, more than okay with it, she realized as she wrapped one leg around his hips. Ben quickly unzipped his pants, and when Lila felt his hand push her underwear to the side, she made no effort to stop him. There was no denying it. She
wanted
him, with an all-­consuming ferocity. And as she felt him move inside of her, she clung to him, pressing her body into his with an unrelenting hunger, wanting only to feel him go even deeper so that she would feel nothing else but him.

She needed, for just a small stretch of time, to escape the pain of the day, to erase the sounds of her sister's tears, to turn off the steady stream of questions without answers. She needed, with every pulse of pure pleasure she felt as Ben fucked her against the door, to feel a moment of release before returning to the sorrow.

 

CHAPTER 23

“
H
APPY BIRTHDAY,
D
ADDY.”

Josie threw her arms around Jack's neck and held him close for a few seconds longer than the billionaire wanted. Lila watched him uncomfortably wriggle his way out of his daughter's overzealous embrace. “Thank you, dear,” he said, not looking her in the eye.

September 10, 2008, the day Lila had been waiting for, was finally upon her. It was Jack Warren's fiftieth birthday—­the day of his death. The guests were in the middle of breakfast, and despite the joyous occasion, tensions never seemed higher. But Lila could barely breathe as she walked around the dining room, pouring juice and serving eggs. Everything came down to this one day, and everyone around the table was still a suspect.

The most suspicious one of all, Elise Warren, was sitting at the opposite end of the table from Jack. She spoke to no one and barely moved. A small bowl of nonfat yogurt sat untouched in front of her. Her face looked as miserable as a face that had been frozen and plumped by Botox and Restylane injections could look. Lila didn't know if Elise had confronted Jack about Ava's presence aboard the ship, but the ugliness of the whole thing, unspoken or not, sat there like a giant turd between them.

“Happy birthday, and cheers to you, Jack,” Paul Mason said. Even though his voice sounded light, his face was unsmiling. After the news of Jack's decision to move all of his company's manufacturing back to the USA broke, the company's stock had plummeted 18 percent in one day of trading. That left Warren Software without the necessary capital to buy Peregrine. The deal that Jack had promised to his old friend Paul was dead in the water, which meant that Paul Mason wasn't going to get the tens of millions of dollars' worth of banking fees he'd been anticipating. He was like a dog who'd been doing tricks for treats. Now that the treats were gone, he wasn't going to be a good boy anymore. That was evident.

Right before breakfast, Lila had heard him on the phone, asking his secretary to book a private plane back to New York for the following day. “I've wasted enough time bending over for the wrong fella,” he had said, loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Jack,” Seth Liss said, standing up, his large belly encased in a garish Hawaiian shirt, white sunscreen making his face look ghoulish, “I wish you all the best on this momentous occasion.” Seth had a wide smile across his face. Jack looked at him warily.

“What are you smiling about?” Jack said.

“Can't I celebrate my good friend's birthday? I'm here with a bunch of fine folks in a beautiful setting. How can I not smile?” Everyone around the table regarded Seth with confusion. He'd spent the entire trip in a foul mood, but now he seemed cheerful. Lila wondered if this was the killer taking delight in toasting his soon-­to-­be-­vanquished enemy.

“Happy birthday, Jack,” Senator Clarence Baines said. He stood up, and so did his wife, Charity, who was wearing a stars-­and-­stripes shift dress. They both lifted their juice glasses to Jack. Even though they were on a boat in the middle of the sea, neither Clarence nor Charity's hair moved in the ample ocean breeze. “We toast you, Jack. It's patriots such as yourself that make America the exceptional nation it is. Charity here and I are honored to be your guests on such a special occasion. We want to thank you for your kindness and your generosity. When ­people ask me why I've spent my life fighting like a dog, standing up for my beliefs every day on the Senate floor, I tell them that I'm fighting for my country's future. I'm fighting so that men like you, Jack, can have all the freedom you need to achieve your dreams. If men like you fail, we all fail.”

Clarence's voice was full of emotion and power. He was clearly more moved by his own words than anyone else was around the table. Jack looked at him with dull eyes and a slack face. Now that the kibosh had been put on the Peregrine acquisition, the senator was no longer of any use to Jack. But Clarence still needed Jack's money and his connections to wealthy donors, so the balance of power between them had been seriously disrupted. And they both knew it.

Clarence, not sensing that ­people had stopped listening, continued. “History has shown us that if you have a government that supports risk takers and celebrates achievement, and says go out there and do whatever you can, that is what makes us prosperous—­”

Thiago jumped up in the middle of Clarence's speech. “Yes,” he said, talking over him. “Yes. Thank you, Senator, for your inspiring words.”

“You can say that again,” Daniel Poe scoffed. Lila thought he rolled his eyes, but it was difficult to be sure because of the mirrored sunglasses he was wearing. He stood in his usual spot away from the table by the guardrail, where he was enjoying a typical breakfast of hand-­rolled cigarettes and a beer shandy to wash down the orange Adderall capsules he kept popping.

The senator, not used to being so rudely interrupted, slumped back in his chair. His wife gave him a consoling pat on his arm.

“Jack, you and I met when we were just boys, both outsiders in a place where being an insider was the only way to succeed.” A nostalgic look fell over Thiago's face as he recalled the past. “You were a tough kid back then. As tough as you are now. But then you had brains and nothing else. And I was a foreigner, made to feel like an outcast because of who my father was.” A flicker of disgust danced across Thiago's face, which he quickly replaced with a smile. “But look at us now, here, today. Harvard begs us for endowments. Our old classmates envy us, dropping our names to elevate themselves. We have won, Jack, you and I. We have won. So, cheers to you. And happy birthday!”

Everyone around the table held up their glasses to Jack, who sat there glumly.

“
Have
I won, Thiago?” Jack said as his eyes swept around the table at all the faces looking at him.

“What do you mean?” Thiago asked as he sat back down in his chair.

“It's just, on days like today, a man takes stock of his life. And I've got to say, I don't like what I see. If I've won the war, then why do I always feel like I'm fighting? I have to battle with my shareholders and my board. My own CFO is my rival,” Jack said, pointing to Liss, who gave him a curt nod. “My wife can't stand me. And then I got this in the mail yesterday when we were docked in Miami.” He whipped a manila envelope down the table, where it hit Josie on the cheek.

“Ow, Dad!” she exclaimed, rubbing the thin red mark on her face. The moment she looked at the envelope, the color drained from her face. “This is Asher's handwriting,” she said.

“Sure is,” Jack said, his voice bitter. Lila knew what was coming. The hundreds of pictures and hours of videos that Asher had taken of Josie were finally coming to light.

“What is it?” Josie asked tentatively.

“Like you don't know,” Jack said.

“I
don't
know, Daddy. Tell me.” Josie's eyes were wide with fear.

“Well, my dear daughter, your beloved knight in shining armor Asher sent me a thumb drive with a few choice images of you two together. And let me say, I'd give anything to erase those pictures from my mind. My own daughter, posed like a whore.” A glistening of tears came to Jack's eyes but he quickly blinked them back. He was not a man who'd let anyone see him cry.

“No!” Josie screamed, covering her face with her hands.

“There was a video, too. I only saw one second of it. The whole thing is sickening.”

Josie let out a loud, soul-­wrenching groan.

“He hinted that there's a lot more where that came from,” Jack said.

“I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry.”

“Some kind of birthday present, huh? Getting tied up? Is that what you learned at all the expensive private schools and summer camps we sent you to? Is this how you repay us for giving you everything?”

“Jack, please,” Elise said. “We can discuss this privately.”

“Why? What's the point?” Jack asked. “Soon enough the whole world will see every inch of my little baby girl. Why should I hide it from our closest friends?”

“What does he want, Jack?” Paul Mason said, in a tone that was all business. At this point Josie was loudly weeping, her head on the table, her hands pressed against her ears.

“A million bucks,” Jack said.

Clarence Baines gasped at the sum. “Outrageous! That's extortion, Jack. Plain and simple. We should notify the police at once.”

Lila saw Daniel Poe smiling grandly in the corner, loving every second of this debased scene. Lucky for him, no one else seemed to take note of his obvious glee.

“You know what I think? I think this little bitch is in on it,” Jack spat, jabbing his finger in Josie's direction. “I think the two of them are extorting the old man for a million dollars. But I won't give a goddamn penny.” He leaped up from his chair, lunging toward Josie. “You hear me! You tell Asher that he won't get anything from me. You think I care if the world sees you for the whore you are?”

Josie began to convulse with tears. Her mother rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her daughter. “How dare you, Jack?” Elise said slowly, the hatred in her voice undeniable. She spoke every word through clenched teeth. “You have no right to pass judgment on her or on anyone.” She guided her daughter up out of the chair. “Let's go, honey. Mommy will take care of this.”

“Want to know how Mommy takes care of things?” Jack called out after them as he sat back down at the head of the table. “With a sedative and a Scotch. So, good luck counting on her!”

After Josie and Elise left, the others sat in a stunned silence.

Lila stood by the door observing everyone. She had suspected Josie of being the killer, but then crossed her off her list once she returned to the yacht after her arrest. But now things had changed dramatically yet again. Josie had been humiliated and abandoned—­this time by her father, who had no compunction about calling his only child a no-­good whore.

“See,” Jack said to Thiago, an artificial calm overtaking his voice. “I wouldn't say I've won anything. And you know what?” He got up and threw his napkin down onto his half-­eaten breakfast. “I'm done fighting.”

Once everyone was gone, Lila and Sam cleaned up the detritus from yet another fraught meal.

“Is it just me or are these the most dysfunctional ­people that've ever existed?” Sam wondered as she carefully stacked the gilded china plates on top of each other. “I mean, I thought my family was screwed up. But compared to the Warrens, my mom with a drinking problem and my brother with PTSD are like a total cakewalk.”

“Listen,” Lila said. “Have you seen the new woman who came on the boat in Miami?”

“The crazy one?” Sam said in a hushed tone as she raised her eyebrows into curious half circles. “Edna told me to ignore her. But it's strange, right? She's just, like, been in her room without any food or anything? And I think I've heard her crying.”

“So have I,” Lila said. She'd passed by the door obsessively all day yesterday, many times hearing her sister weeping or sniffling. She was even more worried when she didn't hear anything. And she felt guilty for not being able to help Ava, for what happened yesterday afternoon with Ben, and for feeling totally lost in a case that had slipped out of her grasp . . . if she ever had a hold on it in the first place.

“I did see Jack go in and out of the room a bunch of times while I was vacuuming the hallway, so I guess she's his latest concubine. Good luck to her,” Sam said sarcastically.

“Does that mean you and Jack are done?”

“Are you kidding? He won't leave me alone. Once men get a taste of me, it's over.” Sam suggestively shook her hips as she pushed the dining room chairs back under the table. “It's a blessing and a curse. But that witch Edna is always up my ass, so it's been impossible to slip away. Besides, last night his bed was empty. He was probably breaking in his newest acquisition.”

That meant Jack must have spent the night in Ava's bed. The thought of it absolutely sickened Lila. How could her sister fall for such a toxic asshole? And how could Ava expect the affair to end in anything but disaster?

By the time Sam and Lila were done cleaning up breakfast, it was ten o'clock. Lila didn't have much time. Despite the horrific mood of everyone on the boat—­except for Daniel Poe, who seemed to be reveling in the Grand Guignol theatrics of the Warren family—­Jack's birthday dinner was still happening. It was just eight hours away. And seven hours after that, four shots would ring out as someone shot Jack Warren.

However, after Jack's death, no one on the yacht would be able to confirm the exact time that Jack was murdered, or the precise location of the boat. Apparently Paul found the blood on the deck sometime around 1:00
A.M.
He asked Nash to radio for help shortly thereafter. That meant Lila had about an hour-­long window during which the murder might happen. But she had the advantage of knowing exactly where the murder would take place.

She'd assumed she would've been further along in solving the case by now. But never in her wildest dreams did she think that
so
many ­people could have
so
many reasons to want Jack Warren dead. Since she still wasn't sure who was going to kill Jack, and she'd be unable to tail all her suspects throughout the night, she needed to put a fail-­safe plan in place. If it came down to it, she needed to watch the actual murder happen. So she headed to the exact spot where Jack would soon die, to make sure she'd be able to see his murder unfold when the time came.

As she walked up the exterior staircase to the rear of the second level, she saw Ben coming down. Despite her totally focused state of mind and her ever-­shrinking window of time to catch a killer, she couldn't help feeling the pulse of desire deep within her. Just laying eyes on Ben made her mind flash to yesterday's encounter—­his hands on her body, his weight against her, the memory of how good he felt inside her came crashing into her mind.