Reclaiming His Bride (DiCarlo Brides book 3) (The DiCarlo Brides) (27 page)

Blake was tired and more than ready to curl up with his wife on the sofa, eat some room-service food and relax. It had been a full week since there was any serious action on the ghost front, and he felt tension in his shoulders as he worried about what might happen next. The perpetrator seemed to be getting desperate, the incidents more serious as time passed and he wondered what could be worse than the murder they’d already dealt with.

He smiled when he came upon Joel in the hall. “Are you still here?”

“Sage is still here,” Joel said as if that were reason enough to work late. Blake supposed in Joel’s world, it was. “I notice you aren’t exactly vegging in your room at the moment, either.”

“Touché. No, but I hope to be soon. I wonder if I can coax Lana away from her spreadsheets.”

“She’s away from them now.” Joel pulled out his phone, which was vibrating. “She’s talking with your dad.”

“My dad? He called?” That seemed odd.

“Yeah, from his room. Just a sec.” He greeted the caller and grimaced. “If you could send someone over to watch the maid pack the suitcase, we’d be happy to ease his fears about theft. Yeah. Thanks.” He hung up and shook his head. “The guy caused at least a thousand dollars in damages and he’s worried some maid is going to steal his socks. I’ll never understand people.” He stuck the phone back in his pocket. “Sage warned me today was going to be exciting—and not in a good way. That woman is never wrong. I really should have listened.”

Blake was in shock. “Wait, my dad is
here
? He didn’t say he was coming. I glanced at the check-in roster this morning with Cami and I didn’t see his name.”

“Maybe he made the reservation after you printed it.” Joel picked up his radio, speaking into it. “Housekeeping, this is security.” When housekeeping responded, he told them a lawyer would be coming to pack the bags for the guest in room 251.

“I’ve really got to hear about that—later,” Blake said. “But my dad—are you sure it was him?”

“Yeah. Lana seemed to think so anyway. Why, you think she’s wrong?”

“No. It’s just weird.” Blake couldn’t quite shake the feeling of unease that rested on his shoulders. “Do you know the room number, by chance? Since you seem to know everything else?”

Joel chuckled. “It was on the fourth floor. I don’t remember the exact number, but we can check it out in my office.”

The security office was just around the corner—faster than calling to the front desk—so Blake followed.

Lana stared at the gun and tried, desperately, to remember the self-defense moves Joel had taught them all a few months earlier, but her mind was blank. “What’s going on?” she asked. “I thought you wanted to work things out.”

“You’re so gullible. Why would I want to work things out? Your family has been a plague on mine for decades. It started back at your grandparents’ first hotel. They gave George the raise I had earned just because he was their son. I was better at the job than he was, but they passed me over for him. More than once. Then he took over and it got worse.”

“This is because of a grudge from before I was born?” She tried to wrap her head around the fact that anyone could be so angry about something that happened so long ago.

“If it had stopped there, it might not bother me now, but it didn’t. He kept pushing me, beating me even when I was the better man. Like this hotel.” He took a step closer, his face hardening.

“I’m not my dad.” She wanted to scream, to call attention to herself, but she didn’t dare. It might draw his fire and she couldn’t risk her baby. She put a hand on her belly, as if that alone would protect her son.

“You can say that all you like, but you’re a tramp, just like he was. He didn’t care that he had a wife and kids at home; he did what he wanted, when he wanted. He cheated on your mom, he cheated you out of most of your inheritance by giving it to all of those half-sisters of yours, and he cheated me. How else do you think he managed to get this spot? I had it in the bag.”

“He won the bid on the land for this hotel fair and square,” Lana said. She actually knew nothing of the bidding process, but she had to defend her father—he’d always stressed the importance of honesty in business. She’d made it her mantra and the thought that he had been a hypocrite in that area was more than she could bear.

“You don’t know him. Not if you can say something like that. He was unprincipled, and you’re just like him. I won’t let you dirty my bloodlines with your tainted offspring.” His mouth twisted as he spoke the last, showing his disgust.

“This tainted offspring is your grandchild,” Lana folded her arms over her stomach in a protective gesture.

“I doubt it. And you can try to protect it, but it won’t help.” He lifted the gun and pointed it straight at her chest.

“He’s not on here,” Blake said as he leaned over the desk to see the names on the guest list. “Are you sure you understood Lana?”

“Yeah. She said she was talking to your dad.” Joel’s brow furrowed and he looked like he was having trouble remembering clearly. “I heard her say the room number, then she headed up. He said something about a reconciliation or something. She seemed pretty excited to clear things up.”

“Well, his name isn’t on the roster.” Blake’s worry increased with every passing minute, though he wasn’t sure why—his father wouldn’t hurt Lana, would he?

“Hmmm. She turned toward the elevators. Let’s check the video to see where she went.” Joel’s mouth formed a thin line, showing he was concerned as well.

Having learned Joel had excellent instincts coupled with Sage’s concern about their day increased Blake’s anxiety as he watched the monitors over Joel’s shoulder.

“You hated my dad,” Lana said, though she’d known it for a long time. She looked over at a winter hat that had some hair sticking out of it in an unruly dark mop. A wig? Had he come in disguise?

“Yes. Very astute of you.”

Suddenly something clicked in her head. “Are you behind the ghost activity here?” She didn’t know how it could be true but somehow she knew it was.

He smiled, but it wasn’t in the least friendly. “Why, yes. I’m so glad you figured that out.”

“How did you do it? How did you manage everything? I know you haven’t been here every time we’ve had trouble. Someone would have realized.” Surely he hadn’t acted alone.

“I had help, of course.”

She glanced around her for a weapon of her own—in case she could get close enough to hit him with something—and found a fake mustache that matched the hair. It sat on the dresser like a dead rat. “Of course. You mind telling me who, since you intend to kill me anyway? I mean, when they find me dead in here, or at least a trail of blood, they’re going to know you’re behind this.”

“I’m not exactly checked in at the hotel, Lana. Do you really think I would risk being caught here? What kind of fool do you think I am? I’ve taken precautions to be sure none of this can be tracked back to me.”

She tipped her head. She had to keep him talking, try to come up with a way out of this. “You’re out of luck. I told someone I was coming up here to talk to you.”

“Blake and your office staff were gone long before I called you. You were alone in there; I checked. No one knows. I was careful.”

“Not careful enough.” She saw the electric teapot and hoped it really did have scalding hot water in it. She sat shakily in the chair beside it and opened a pack of tea. “I want to know who was working with you. I deserve to know.”

“Who do you think it is? How many people do you suppose I know here who have access to the cameras, codes and a key card to let me in up here?” He held up the card, shaking it a little in emphasis. “Who has always been loyal to me, anxious to curry my favor?”

Lana had been reaching for the teapot, planning her moves, but the words made her pause and absorb the shock of what he implied. Her stomach fell. “No. It’s not Blake.”

He smiled with satisfaction. “You’re really good at this guessing game.”

Her hand wobbled as she lifted the pot. Could she believe him? He’d been trying to destroy her and the resort. He would say anything, wouldn’t he? “I don’t believe you.”

“Your voice says otherwise. You don’t sound very sure.”

She touched the top of the pot, as if preparing to pour a cup, but instead she released the catch and gave the cap a quick twist to remove it. She whirled and threw the hot water in his face.

He screamed and the gun went off—much louder than on the television shows, despite the silencer. Lana didn’t know what he hit, but it wasn’t her, so she threw herself at him, trying to get to the door, but he recovered quickly, grabbing her and slamming her to the floor.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Room 432?” Blake said. He checked the guest screen again. “There’s no one registered in that room.” He looked at Joel, Joel looked back and they rose quickly and headed out of the room.

“Someone opened the door for her,” Joel said as he shut the office behind him. He grabbed his radio and contacted the other security officers on duty, telling them to meet on the fourth floor. “Did you notice that’s in the wing where all the trouble occurs?”

“Yeah, but my dad—really, that’s ridiculous.” Blake couldn’t consider it, surely this was a joke—his father wasn’t happy about things, but he wouldn’t actually hurt Lana, would he?

“Is it?” Joel broke into a jog and yelled to some guests to hold the elevator.