Here Comes Trouble Page 25

  “That was me making sure you won’t forget me,” she breathed. “Now.” She caught his face in his hands as she rolled her hips. “How about you return the favor?”

  ***

  “So, um, about dinner tonight?” Sheila hooked her phone under her chin as she wiped her hands on a towel and stepped away from the easel and headed to answer the doorbell. “I’ll have to take a pass. I need to—”

  “Paint, I know,” Malcolm said. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not sure when I’ll be back from Malibu anyway.”

  “I’d rather be with you.” But the lack of male distraction had resulted in an almost completed forgery. The watercolor landscape had been a challenge, but the artist had never been known for his intricacies. It was the surreptitious use of a combination of yellows as an undertone to the white streaks of the clouds that were the distinctive quality. “Hang on a second.” She signed for the overnight express envelope and tossed it onto the kitchen counter with the rest of her unopened mail. “I can’t wait to hear the details about your conversation with your father. You’re clear on what you need to do?”

  “Don’t worry. By the time my father arrives, he’ll be convinced Nemesis paid him a visit. Provided I don’t screw something up.”

  “You won’t.” Still . . .

  “Stop worrying. I know how important this is to you.”

  “Drive safe,” she said, and then, feeling particularly reckless, added, “I love you.”

  The five seconds of silence that followed felt like the last five years all over again, and she wondered if, when the time came, she’d be able to say good-bye again.

  “Me, too. See you soon.”

  “Mmmm.” She pressed her phone against her lips, strolling out of her studio on the balls of her feet. “Sherlock!”

  “Mew.” Thud. He dropped off the edge of the counter as if he were BASE jumping.

  “No need to wash my cereal bowl now,” she muttered, noting that the milk she’d left at the bottom was gone. She looked at her cat, who was lapping droplets from his whiskers. “You need obedience lessons.”

  Sherlock blinked, tilted his head, and Sheila swore if the cat could talk he’d remind her that cats didn’t deign to obey anyone.

  Taking a day off from the office wasn’t unheard of, but she didn’t do it often. She’d been so far out of the painting zone the last few weeks she didn’t want to venture too far away for fear of frightening her connection away. The landscape would need a couple of days to finish curing—oil pastels always remained a bit tacky to the touch even after decades, so that was one thing in her favor.

  Her mark, a very subtle “N” within the cross hatching of the grass blades made it more than obvious to anyone looking closely enough that this was a replication, not the original work. Adding the same mark to the cubist piece she’d selected would take a more delicate touch.

  She fixed herself another cup of coffee, wandering over to the window to gaze out on the town she called home. It suited her, allowed her to embrace the part of her that enjoyed the amenities money and prestige allowed as well as keeping her feet on the ground, not easy given her usual footwear.

  She sipped her coffee as Sherlock brushed between her feet, knocking his head against her ankle as if to apologize for his previous behavior. “Mmmmeeeew.” Sheila bent down and scooped him up, tucking him under her arm as she headed upstairs to shower, her eyes falling once more on her town.

  Could she do it? Take the chance, the risk, and go with him? Leave everything and everyone she loved?

  Or maybe that wasn’t the question.

  Maybe the question was could she let Malcolm leave without her?

  ***

  Why did he run perpetually late these days? Malcolm grabbed his key fob, pocketed his phone, and headed out the door of his hotel room and found Ty headed his way.

  His brother hesitated, an envelope tucked under his arm, hands shoved in casual slacks—where had the suit gone, Malcolm wondered—then straightened, as if he’d been dosed with a bout of courage. “You have a few minutes?”

  “Not really, no.” Malibu was a good forty-minute drive and he had a lot to do once he got to the beach house. It wasn’t easy pretending to be a notorious cat burglar with an agenda. Ty’s jaw worked, and the fact that he didn’t spew a load of vitriol in Malcolm’s direction had him rethinking his answer. “But come on in.”

  “Thanks.” The slicked-back hair was gone. The polished clone Malcolm had silently accused him of becoming had faded under the re-emerging persona of the brother he’d wanted to find when he came back to Lantano Valley. They got as far as the dining area before Ty held out the envelope. “Found it.”

  “The contract?” Malcolm blinked. He pulled out the paperwork, scanned the contents that had haunted him. “Where?”

  “Dad’s personal laptop. Serves him right for not coming into the office the last few days, as it took me that long to go through all his files. You were right.”

  “Ty—”

  “I’m resigning from the company,” his brother interrupted. “I’ll wait for things to shake out, but.” He shrugged. “Dad knows, by the way. About the buyout.”

  “Does he?” Malcolm tapped the papers against his hand. “You told him, then?”

  “Didn’t have to. It’s there, behind the contract. I found it when I was looking to prove you wrong.”

  “Found what?” Malcolm flipped through the pages.

  “It’s an email exchange between Dad and a private investigation company he’s had watching you off and on over the years. Not a very reputable one given the fact they’ve hacked into your system on numerous occasions, bugged your phones, tailed some of your employees, including you. He knew about your plans to buy Oliver Technologies stock from before you made your first purchase. I printed out a couple of them.” Ty pulled out a flash drive and tossed it to Malcolm. “Here are the rest.”

  Malcolm’s heart swelled, the final piece of his plan falling into place as he stared down at the drive.

  “Why are you smiling?” Ty asked. “This can’t be good news for you.”

  “Oh, this is the best news you could have brought me, little brother. I knew you’d come around.”

  “Really?” Ty asked. “I didn’t.”

  “I have more faith in you than you do yourself.” Faith that had been hanging by the thinnest of threads. “Give me a second.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Veronica. “Hey, good morning. Ty came through. With more than we expected.”

  “Thanks,” Ty muttered.

  “Yeah. Proof of the hacking and the wire taps. I’m staring at the email right now stating he was aware of the hostile takeover well before we made our first purchase. You have that press release about TIN’s acquiring Oliver Technologies ready?” Malcolm grinned over at Ty, who was looking more confused by the moment. “Great. Let’s get the rumor mill stirred up a bit, and then release the official statement in a week. Auction day,” he mouthed to Ty. “Great. Thanks, Veronica. I’ll touch base later.” Malcolm slapped the papers against Ty’s arm. “Thank you.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” The hint of a smile tilted his lips.

  “Yeah, well, I bet this will be, too. I’m not accepting your resignation.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Stop looking at me as if I’ve escaped an asylum. I need someone I can trust at Oliver Technologies and TIN.”

  “And you think that’s me.” Was the doubt in Ty’s voice in himself or in Malcolm’s faith in him?

  Malcolm’s entire body relaxed as the last five years lifted off his shoulders. “I do now. But first, I have something I need to do.”

  ***

  The screeching of tires in the driveway pulled Malcolm’s attention away from the crashing surf, and he rolled his head against the Adirondack chair and watched his father climb out of the black town car.
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  The old man must have broken the land speed record to get here within a half hour. The sight of his somewhat bedraggled, haggard-looking father, his suit wrinkled, a dazed and barely covered look of panic in his eyes, was the second best thing Malcolm had seen all day.

  “Did you call the police?” Chadwick tugged his suit jacket closed as he stomped up the stairs and through the embossed glass front door Malcolm had left open.

  “I told you on the phone that I didn’t.” Malcolm pushed himself to his feet and followed him into the side office that was a near replica of the one at his home. “And no, for the tenth time, I didn’t touch anything.”

  Chadwick circled the three narrow crates in the middle of the floor, each with “Fragile” and “This End Up” stamped on the stressed wood. And the three paintings in front of them. “I came in, got something to drink, and thought I’d check my email since my cell reception is crap. When I opened the door, this is what I found. How many paintings do you need, Dad?”

  His father raised accusing eyes. “These are for specific buyers at the auction, not that it’s any of your business. What are you doing here anyway?” Chadwick began ripping the packing raffia out of the crates and slid the paintings back in.

  And here Malcolm had taken such care unpacking them. And taking pictures of them. All his hard work. “I was going to bring Sheila up here for the weekend, but that plan’s shot to hell since it’s about to be a crime scene.”

  “I’d have thought given your standing these days you’d have enough money to buy your own beach house instead of taking advantage of your family.”

  “My standing?” Malcolm asked. “Oh, you mean my position as CEO of TIN?”

  Chadwick froze.

  Man, this day just kept getting better. “Come on, Dad. We can let each other off the hook now. It’s done. Oliver Technologies is mine. You’re out of a job. You know what you know, I know what I know.”

  “What do you think you know?”

  “Besides the fact you forged Ty’s signature on that contract five years ago?” He nodded as Chadwick’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I know you authorized surveillance on my company over the last five years. And that you ignored a stock buyout that changed the ownership of Oliver Technologies. Oh, and you neglected to inform your shareholders that the company was losing its value. Then there’s the fact that you sold off your stock without any consideration as to who—”

  “What kind of fool do you take me for?” Chadwick said with a hint of derision in his voice. “I knew exactly who was buying us out and you’re welcome to it. All those subsidiary companies you thought were so secret? Honestly, Malcolm. You never did see beyond your own interests. And those stockholders, as you call them, were stupid for staying on after you were out of the picture. The only thing that’s kept the company afloat is the money I’ve made from that damned water system of yours, and now that’s run dry.”

  “And Gran and Ty? Were they idiots as well?”

  “They’ll both be fine.” Chadwick dismissed his question. “She has the house, Ty has his inheritance from her. They won’t hurt for long.”

  The idea he’d been sired by this callous, sociopathic—for want of a better term—man, made his skin crawl. “That money you made from Worthington didn’t go as far as you thought it would, did it? Had some trouble without me?”

  “I got enough out of it.”

  “What’s that?” Malcolm walked over to the window he’d left slightly open, fragments of a broken vase scattered over the floor.

  “What’s what?” His father dropped out of sight so fast Malcolm wondered if he’d managed to give the old man a heart attack. As Malcolm stepped farther into the room he saw his father pluck up a small white gift card from the remnants of the vase.

  “Well?”

  “Nothing.” Chadwick crumpled the card in his fist, but not before the gold embossed “N” and “thank you” glinted in the early afternoon sun. “It’s nothing. You can leave now.”

  “Cops or not, I’m not going anywhere until I know Gran’s house is secure. What happened to the security system? I did a walk-around and saw some of the wires had been cut—” Okay, so he’d cut the wires after Nathan disabled the system remotely. One little snip of a green wire in just the right place . . . “Oh, got it. I’m not here.” Malcolm rolled his eyes as his father pulled out his phone. “I’ll just—” His father waved him out of the room and slammed the door.

  He was back in the porch chair an hour later when Chadwick emerged from the house, carrying one of the crates. “Shall we discuss things further?” Malcolm asked and wondered if at some point in the last five years he’d become invisible, given how little interest Chadwick had in looking at him. “Or are we all settled now?”

  His father glared at him as he loaded the first crate into the car, then repeated the process with the other two, working up a profuse sweat by the time he was finished.

  “You got what you came for,” his father said as he opened the driver door. “You got the company you always wanted, you showed me up, which I’m sure will be front-page headlines in what . . . a week or so?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Then I guess you don’t have anything left to stick around for, do you? Except Sheila Tremayne, of course. How she let herself get involved with you again I’ll never understand, but well, there’s the female sensibility for you. And no doubt you’ve made up with your brother by now. I did anticipate that, and while your grandmother’s enjoyed your visit, I think it’s time for you to go back to San Francisco. Before I do something you’ll regret. Oh, wait.” Chadwick snapped his fingers, narrowed his eyes and gave Malcolm such a sickly devious smile Malcolm found it hard to swallow. “Never mind. I already did.”

  ***

  “Do you have any idea why our presence has been requested?” Malcolm asked Sheila as she shifted in her seat to unhook her belt.

  “Morgan just said to be at the center by four.” Given the way Sheila had been pinballing between the office, the center, and home the last few days, Wednesday had arrived in the blink of an eye and with it, the excitement and anxiety that accompanied a Nemesis job. That Malcolm and Ty were acting like brothers as well as colleagues seemed to have lifted a weight off Malcolm.

  She could hope he was going to change his mind about staying. Surely he had to see he belonged in Lantano Valley, that he had people who cared about him, beginning but not ending with her. Not that they’d broached the subject.

  She wasn’t that brave. Yet.

  “Looks like we aren’t the only ones who have been summoned.” Malcolm gestured to the growing crowd of familiar faces where the gravel construction parking lot had been days before.

  “Oh.” Sheila gasped as she looked out the window. Adrenaline surged through her body. “Oh, Malcolm. It’s done.” She jumped out of the car, unable to tear her eyes away from the lush lawn bordering the cement walk leading to the main entrance of the center. She held out her hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet when he seemed to be taking his time, and heard him chuckle as she pulled him behind her, clutching their clasped hands to her chest. “Everything’s falling into place. Levia’s painting—thank you for confirming that—knowing the others will be where they belong soon, and now this. After all these years—oh, I wish Mom were here to see this.”

  “Maybe she can.”

  “Maybe.” Sheila nodded, and loved him for saying it.

  The smooth walkway led off to various paths, to gentle sloping water features to the west, to a serenity and rock garden surrounded by recently planted Japanese Maples. They wound around to the back, where a collection of picnic areas were situated, complete with permanent barbeques and cordoned-off soccer nets. In the distance she saw a dark-green clubhouse-style building marked “Sporting Equipment and Supplies” that was the perfect accompaniment to the completed entertainment facility.
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br />   Lights flashed from inside the glass building, testifying to the arcade and video games housed inside, but at the heart of everything was the three-story building that would serve as hope for ill children and their families.

  “You guys did good.”

  She glanced over and found Malcolm taking everything in, his lips curving. “You’ll help so many here. All the Colins and Brandons possible. You’ll have made a difference, Sheila.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

  Her chest tightened, hearing an unspoken good-bye in his words, but she couldn’t voice the question, the fear that reality would set in and he’d be leaving. “I’m not sure we could have gotten here without you,” was what she managed, and because she hoped it would say everything else she meant.

  He pulled her into his arms and she buried her face in his chest, unable to stop herself from saying, “I don’t want you to go.”

  His entire body went tight, like she’d coiled a spring with her words.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. “Sheila, please.” But he hugged her tighter and forced the breath from her lungs. “Don’t make me regret what we’ve had by asking me to do what I can’t.”

  “But you can stay. There’s no reason you can’t.”

  “Yes, there is.” He caught her face in his hands and forced her to look into his eyes. “Believe me when I say there is a reason. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind. It is what it is.” He pressed his lips to hers.

  “Then I’ll come with you.”

  She watched the color drain from his face and deep inside, her heart fractured.

  His eyes went cold, his arms stiffened. “No.”

  “But—”

  “I said no, Sheila.” And yet he looked as if she’d fired a shot directly into his chest. “I’m not staying and you’re not coming with me. End of conversation.”

  Spots flashed before her eyes as her throat tightened.

  “Okay, enough private time, you two.” Morgan came bounding down the path, looking like the enthusiastic fifteen-year-old Sheila remembered so well. “What do you think? Huh? Isn’t it—”