Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers (9 page)

You cut
your hair."
She ran her fingers through the short cap of light hair. She'd worn it long her entire
life and had loved it. Prince had loved it too and had ordered her never to cut it. The
minute she'd been free of him, she'd chopped it all off.
"
You coming
back to work?" Barney's voice brought her back to the task at hand.
Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she shook her head. "No, I've got another job. I'm
just here because I got a call saying they had the money I was owed when things fell
apart here."
Barney nodded soberly. "Yeah, that was a mess. Prince's death and the police
investigation shut this place down for months. It didn't even have time to get back up
and running before Katrina hit." He shrugged again. "But it all worked out okay."
Blythe remembered the sheer giddiness of relief that had come with the news of
Prince's death. "Yeah, it all worked out okay."
"You'll never guess who's running the place now."
Frankly, she didn't care. All she wanted to do was get her money and get out. But
Barney had always been kind to her and she didn't want to be rude to him.
"Who?"
"Prince's younger brother, Adrian."
Her stomach lurched and Blythe laid a hand across it to try to calm herself. Bile
burned in her throat as she swallowed.
"Really?"
Jethro
had mentioned his brother, but
had assured her many times that no one knew about
them
. He was afraid that his
brother might want a piece of her if he knew their little secret and
Jethro
Prince wasn't a
man who shared.
"Yup.
Came rolling into town about three months back and started renovating the
place."
Blythe couldn't keep up the pretense of being calm. If she stayed here much longer,
she was going to toss her cookies all over the pristine floors, and wouldn't that leave a
lasting impression on the new management? The last thing she wanted to do was bring
attention to
herself
. "Where do I pick up my money?"
Barney's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth as if he might say something, but
at the last second, he changed his mind and shrugged.
"The accountant is back in the
office."
"Thanks."
Turning, she headed toward the back. Each step farther into the bowels
of the place was hard, but she forced herself to do it. She could feel Barney's eyes on her
until she disappeared around the corner and headed down the short hallway.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to steady herself as she knocked on the door of
the office. "Come in." The voice was male, and thankfully, not one she recognized.
Grasping the doorknob, she twisted and pushed inward. The man seated behind the
desk was older than she was, his hair threaded with gray. A pair of wire-rimmed
spectacles perched on his nose and his gaze flicked toward her for a second before
returning to the journal in front of him. He finished entering some numbers and then
laid his pen aside.
"I'm here for my check. My name is Blythe Nixon. I got a call." It had taken her
three breaths to say those few words. Sweat coated her body beneath the clammy
clothing and her stomach continued to roil.
The man in the chair, however, either didn't notice or didn't care. He grabbed a file
folder from the corner of his desk and began to riffle through it. "Nixon. Nixon," he
chanted as he flipped through papers. "Ah, yes." He plucked a sheet out of the bunch
and laid it on the desk. His eyes widened briefly as he read whatever was on the sheet.
"You were a singer here?"
"Yes."
She didn't want to make conversation. She was beginning to wish she'd
never come here.
To hell with the money.
"You were paid extremely well." His eyes flicked over her threadbare attire as if he
couldn't understand why anyone had given her so much money. Her voice had only
been part of it. Prince had paid her well, but not excessively so. He'd always preferred
to hold the purse strings himself, but he wanted her to get used to the kind of life he
could give her. A complicated man was
Jethro
Prince.
"I just want my check." She held out her hand and waited. If he didn't give it to her
in the next five seconds, she was out of here.
Taken aback by her abruptness, he nonetheless recovered quickly.
"Of course, Ms.
Nixon."
He turned the paper around to face her. "Just sign here. It says that you've
been paid what you were due and that you won't bother the new owner looking for any
more."
Picking up the paper, Blythe read the document from start to finish. It wasn't long
and said exactly what the accountant said it did. "I'll want a copy of this." She grabbed
a pen off the desk and scrawled her signature across the document before handing it
back.
His bushy brows rose behind his glasses, but he nodded as he shifted his chair over
to his copier, lifted the top and popped the page inside. Seconds later she had her copy
as well as her check.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome, Ms. Nixon." He lowered his head and went back to work on the
journal that was open on his desk. She'd been dismissed, but she didn't care. Whirling
around, she hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
Relief hit her so hard that she felt lightheaded and leaned against the wall for
support. The papers in her hand crinkled as her fingers closed around them. Forcing
herself to relax her grip, she straightened the copy of the release form and the check,
folded them carefully and placed them safely in the inside pocket of her jacket. She
would stop at the bank on the way home and deposit her money.
Feeling calmer now, she shoved away from the wall and had taken two steps down
the hall when she heard voices coming toward her. Great! The last thing she wanted to
do was run into anyone else she knew. She just didn't have it in her to participate in any
more small talk. These people were from her past, a past she was doing her best to
forget.
Moving silently, she slipped through a door just to her left. It was a storage closet,
but she didn't care. She'd only be in here long enough for them to get past her and then
she was out of here. There was no time to close the door, but Blythe got it pushed
almost all the way shut just in the nick of time. Their voices were almost on top of her
now.
"Sign that new band, Toxic Shock--we want to attract a young crowd for the
opening weekend. Make a big splash." The deep male voice reeked of authority.
"Yes, Mr. Prince." The other man hesitated.
"About that other problem."
Blythe stilled, afraid to even breathe. The last person she wanted to meet face-to-
face was Adrian Prince. She shuddered to think how close she'd come to running right
into him. The men seemed to pause right outside the door. Like a statue, Blythe refused
to
so
much as blink.
"What have you found out?"
"The
Dalakis
family is extremely rich and powerful."
"They may be rich, but they have no idea just what power is," Adrian snarled
impatiently. The more he spoke, the more she heard the similarity to his older brother.
"Yes, sir."
"Continue," he snapped.
"No one remembers seeing Lucian
Dalakis
in the place the night your brother and
Smith were murdered."
"I don't give a shit about Smith. The man didn't do his job. If he were still alive, I'd
kill him myself."
"Yes, sir."
"Saunders." Adrian said the other man's name softly, but the menace was there.
Blythe shivered, barely daring to breathe.
"There were several people waiting to get into the club who remember seeing him
that night. He's a big man, good-looking too from what the women were saying."
"You can ask him for a date later, Saunders, if you want to fuck him."
Blythe felt an unexpected sympathy for Saunders. She could sense his fear even
through the thickness of the door. It was a palpable thing. Fear was one emotion she
knew intimately. Shame was another.
"Yes, sir."
Saunders continued, his voice shaking. "No one saw him leave, but the
police never questioned him." He hesitated briefly. "Your brother had kidnapped Chase
Deveraux
to lure his sister here. She's now married to Lucian
Dalakis
. I don't think you
can discount that."
The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in the quiet hallway. A man moaned. "Do
you think I'm stupid, Saunders? Do you think I don't understand the implications?"
"No, sir.
No, sir."
The ingratiating whine in the other man's voice made her
stomach twist. "I just wanted to know what you want me to do about
it
."
"Send out Farley and one of his boys. Tell them to watch for their opportunity. I
want to make an example of Lucian
Dalakis
and his little wife. If that bitch had died
when she was supposed to, my brother would still be alive."
Blythe blanked her mind and forced herself to take light, shallow breaths. Her
vision dimmed, but she blinked hard. If she fainted, they'd find her. If they found her,
she was as good as dead.
"Yes, sir.
I'll get on that immediately."
"See that you do."
The voices were moving away from her now. "I need to talk to
my accountant."
A door opened and closed. Then footsteps hurried back down the hall. Blythe
leaned her hands against the wall, lowered her head and sucked in a deep breath. That
was close. Too close. She counted to thirty before she eased the door open. Slinking
down the hallway, she took a deep breath and entered the bar area. Barney was still
behind the counter.
Forcing herself to smile, she sauntered toward him. "I got my check. I also went
back to the dressing rooms and looked around. Sort of one last look, you know." She
gave him a practiced smile, one that always seemed to make fools out of men. God
knows that if her time with
Jethro
Prince had taught her anything it was how to be the
consummate actress. Her life had depended on it, just as it did now. This place was
permeated with evil and she wanted out.
Barney stared at her and then smiled slowly. "I know what you mean. You want a
drink?"
She could see the eagerness in his eyes. Knew that he thought he might score. She
gave him what she thought of as her disappointed pout. It made a man think that she
really wanted to stay, but had to go.
"Maybe next time."
She glanced at her watch.
"I'm
already late."
"Sure thing, Blythe.
Next time."
Waving her fingers, she forced herself to stroll across the room and out through the
front door. If anyone asked about her, Barney was her alibi. Clutching her coat tight
around her shivering body, she all but ran back to her meager apartment. She made
herself detour at the bank and deposit her check. If anyone checked up on her it would
seem strange if she didn't.
By the time she pushed open the door of her apartment, she was shaking like a leaf.
Closing it behind her, she engaged the seven locks she'd had installed. Excessive
maybe, but even though Prince had been dead three years, she still didn't feel safe. She
didn't think she ever would.
Yanking off her wet clothing, she let it drop from her numb fingers as she went into
the bathroom and turned the shower on full. Climbing into the tub, she let the hot water
rain down on her as she shivered and shook. She didn't think she'd ever be warm again.
She was cold all the way to her soul.
Lifting her face to the spray, she let it wash away the salty tears that flowed over
her cheeks. Her life had just gotten even more complicated.
Now she had to figure out what to do about Lucian
Dalakis
and his family.
The sun was just setting when Sam Cassidy left the main house and headed back
toward his apartment. The steel shutters had just risen so he knew that the family
would be up and around any minute. He tried to give them their privacy.
Stopping in the middle of the garden, he lowered himself to a stone bench. The rain
had stopped early in the afternoon and the sun had dried up most of it. Everything
smelled fresh and clean. This place had changed a lot in the last years, mostly due to
Delight. She loved to garden and had turned the small area behind the house into a
peaceful oasis.
Linking his fingers together, he leaned his elbows on his knees and contemplated
the situation. Zane York was back in town, nosing around. No crime in that, but
Cassidy knew he had to go and talk to him sooner or later, find out what he really
wanted with the
Dalakis
family.
But it was more than that. He was restless.
Sighing, he released his fingers and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He'd
been feeling twitchy for a few days now.
Like he was waiting for something to happen.
Something big.
Something nasty.
Sitting quietly, he allowed the peace and serenity to seep into his bones. Whatever
was going to happen would happen and there was nothing he could do about it. All he
could do was
react
to the situation as it occurred and handle it.
He snorted softly under his breath. That's what he did best--handle things.
Finally, the lush scent of the trees and flowers relaxed him. He was contemplating
what to cook for supper when a slight rustling sound reached his ears. Very slowly, he
drew his weapon and waited. Maybe it was just a bird or a stray cat, but Cassidy didn't
think so. The insects had gone quiet.
There it was again, this time closer. The bulk of the trees surrounding the bench hid
him from view, so he waited. He caught a glimpse of a sneakers and jeans as the
hooded figure scurried past him.
Silently, he rose and raised his weapon.
"Freeze.
You're on private property."
The figure, probably a young boy from the size of him, froze for a brief moment and
then bolted, dropping an envelope from his hand. Swearing, Cassidy holstered his
weapon, already in pursuit. His long legs ate up the distance. Reaching out, he snagged
the back of the sweater and pulled.
The boy stumbled backward, falling to the ground. Keeping hold of the sweater,