“No, it’s too risky. Not on the same day her father dies.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll look like an accident. That’s what you wanted. Right? This was your fuckin’ idea.”
“No. Now listen. Wait a few days, okay. Until things calm down. And don’t call me back on this cell. Do you hear me? I hired you to do a job and you’ll be paid, but I’m still calling the shots.”
“Like hell.”
“I’m warning you—”
He laughed and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. “Relax, amigo, this is your lucky day.” Then he hung up and started for his Jeep. His blood was on fire as he lit up. Killing Conrad Amhurst had been too easy and just a means to an end.
It was Marla he wanted. But then it always had been.
“. . . and so I pretended to be asleep and when he came in I tried to fake him out, act like I didn’t know what was going on, that I hadn’t been in his office,” Marla said as she sat on the couch in the sitting room. Nick had lit the fire and stood with his back to the flames, his empty coffee cup in his hands, his eyes drilling into hers. They’d drained the coffeepot as the house began to stir. The cook was already rattling around in the kitchen and soon Cissy would wake for school. “I found several things in his desk. There was a gun. I took it and hid it under the mattress in my room. Then . . . then there was a Rolodex card with Kylie Paris’s address and phone number. I’ve got it as well. And a statement from a hospital for Marla Cahill’s hysterectomy. Full hysterectomy,” she said, a million thoughts running through her mind as the caffeine jolted her bloodstream. “It was dated three years ago.”
Nick regarded her with wary eyes. “So either you’re not Marla or the baby isn’t yours.”
“James is mine,” she stated without a waver of hesitation. No matter what else happened, she knew unerringly that she’d given birth to her baby. She took a sip from her tepid coffee, draining the cup before adding, “And somehow Dr. Robertson is in on this. He didn’t want me to see Marla’s medical records, though the operation was done in Los Angeles at a private hospital, not at Bayview. But there must be some note, or cross reference. For whatever reason he wouldn’t let me have even a passing glance at the folder.”
“Get the address to Kylie’s apartment and we’ll go there,” Nick said as he rubbed the stubble darkening his jaw and Marla remembered the feel of its scratchy texture against her own skin less than a half hour before.
“What about the gun?” She shivered as she thought of the cold, deadly weapon.
“Keep it hidden for now. Out of Alex’s hands. Will the maid find it?”
“I don’t think so, not even if she changes the sheets.”
“Good.” He started for the foyer.
“I won’t leave without the baby, Nick. I can’t take a chance that Alex will somehow try to kidnap his own son.”
“From his house?”
“Anywhere.” Marla was adamant. Firm. Above all else she’d protect her child. “And we have to see that Cissy’s safe, too.”
“From Alex?”
“And whoever else.” Her stomach curdled when she thought of the man who was supposed to be her husband. Nick had already explained about the dwindling finances of Cahill Limited, Pam Delacroix’s intention of writing a book, and Julie Delacroix Johnson?
??s involvement with Alex. Marla had learned how Alex had let Donald Favier take the blame for the scandal, then paid everyone to keep their mouths shut. He could even be behind Charles Biggs’ death and the attempts on her life.
She had every reason to feel fear. For herself. For her son. For Nick. “You don’t know the hatred on his face. The way he threatened me.”
“Then we’ll take James with us,” Nick agreed.
“And we’ll wait until Cissy’s at school. I think she’ll be safe there,” Marla said, thinking ahead. “For some reason I don’t think she’s a part of this. Whatever it is, it has to do with the baby. And me.”
Nick’s eyes locked with hers. “Because of the will.”
“What?” She didn’t like where his thoughts were leading.
“The baby is at the center of all this because he’s going to inherit the bulk of Conrad Amhurst’s estate,” Nick said, and she felt the knell of doom peal in her heart.
“This is worse than I thought.” She set her empty cup on the table. “If you’re right, then James is safe until Dad—Conrad dies. And after that . . .”
“He’s as expendable as you are,” Nick said, finishing her grisly thought.
“Let’s get him up.” She shot to her feet. She had to get out of this house. Now! She couldn’t stand another minute in this elegant death trap. “We’ll take Cissy with us and drop her off at school and we’ll find a safe place to keep James until we can sort all this out.”