Sweet Talk Read online

  “I will,” he promised.

  “Where was she shot?”

  “Right hip, left shoulder, and left side,” he said. He’d already given her that information, but he knew she was having trouble taking it all in.

  “Someone needs to contact Dr. Pardieu. I hope the surgeon has already called him,” she said.

  “Dr. Pardieu?”

  “Andre Pardieu. He’s her physician. Grayson, I’m going to get on the first flight I can find . . . no, I’ll charter a jet,” she decided. “I should be there—”

  Grayson interrupted. “The city’s snowed in, Emma. No flights in or out.”

  “She shouldn’t be alone. She needs someone to watch out for her.”

  “There will be someone with her at all times,” he promised. “No one’s going to get to her.”

  “Has anyone called her parents and her sister?”

  “I’ll check,” he said.

  “I’ll call them. They’re all in Miami, celebrating with some new investors. Olivia’s father purchased a mansion overlooking the ocean.”

  Grayson could hear the disapproval in her voice, which told him there were family issues. He didn’t care about that. His total focus was on finding out who wanted Olivia MacKenzie dead.

  Little did he know just how high that number would be.

  ELEVEN

  Olivia could have sworn Tom Cruise stopped by to say hello. Then Grayson appeared and shooed him away.

  She floated in and out of consciousness. Everything was a blur, and visions swirled around in her head: snow and paper bags flying through the air and John’s face at the window and a thin crimson line streaming across the white earth. Then, out of the fog, Grayson’s face appeared. Why was he there? Did he want to kiss her again? She couldn’t focus enough to find out, and she drifted away once more.

  The next time she came to, she felt something cold on her head. She forced her eyes open and saw Grayson leaning over her. She closed them again. She was hallucinating. Focus, she told herself. She knew she was dreaming and needed to make herself wake up. Yet, when she looked again, he was there. He was no illusion.

  When he moved the cold pack on her head, she felt the throbbing pain. She opened her mouth to complain but nothing came out. Her throat was so sore.

  Finally in a raspy voice she managed to whisper, “What is it with you and ice?”

  “What is it with you getting hit in the head?” He smiled as he added, “The nurse wants you to keep this on your bump.”

  “Bump?”

  “I think you slammed your head into the brick wall outside your building.”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  He didn’t have a ready answer to her question. She struggled to sit up and felt pain all the way down to her toes.

  “Be useful. Help me sit up.”

  “You are sitting up.”

  She closed her eyes. “Go away.” She wanted to stay awake, but the fog was descending again and she couldn’t fight it.

  The next time she woke up, she was lucid and feeling half human. She looked around. She was in a room filled with vases of flowers, and Dr. Andre Pardieu was standing at the foot of the bed reading her chart.

  “Bonjour, Docteur.”

  “Ah, you’re back with us,” he said.

  “I have to give Jane some blood.”

  “No, not now. You need to rebuild your strength, then you can help her.”

  Their conversation continued in rapid French. Grayson stood in the doorway listening. It was apparent the physician had great affection for Olivia. Grayson could have sworn he heard him call her Pipsqueak.

  At the end of their talk, Dr. Pardieu switched back to English. “Now that I see you’re all right, I’ll keep my plans to go to France. I’ll be in Paris for a conference, and then I’ll be going on a holiday with my family. If you need me, you know how to get hold of me.” He kissed her on the forehead before he left the room.

  Olivia was looking out the window when Grayson walked in, and she hadn’t noticed him watching her. He wondered how anyone could look that good after being shot three times. Her face was pale, but she was still beautiful. Her dark auburn hair spilled out on the pillow behind her.

  She caught him staring at her. Those clear blue eyes locked on his. Then he walked over to the window ledge and leaned against it. He folded his arms across his chest and said, “How are you feeling?”

  “All things considered, pretty good,” she replied.

  What was he doing here? she wanted to ask. How did he get involved in this? One silly kiss, then two months without a word. Message received, she thought. He obviously hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with her and had moved on. Damn it, so had she.

  “Are you ready to answer some questions?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  “I do remember,” she said, surprised that she did. “But it won’t help much. There was a black SUV parked at the end of the block. The motor was running, and I remember thinking that he was waiting for someone. Guess he was waiting for me, wasn’t he?”

  “Apparently so.”

  The topic of the conversation was horrific, she thought, yet they were both acting and sounding so casual about it. Olivia knew Grayson must be used to dealing with attempted murders and all sorts of other awful happenings. He was a pro at this sort of thing. Nothing much seemed to faze him. She, on the other hand, was a novice.

  “Could you see anyone in the SUV?”

  “No, the windows were tinted, and it was snowing. Visibility wasn’t good. The driver was on my side of the street. And that’s it, Grayson. That’s all I know.” She smiled and waited for his next question.

  “That’s it, huh?” he said.

  “I should call my aunt. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “I talked to her.”

  “You did? You didn’t upset her, did you?”

  “No, of course not. Hearing that you’d been shot three times didn’t upset her at all.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “She’s in Palm Springs.”

  “No, she’s on her way here.”

  Olivia asked him about her boss and her friend Jane, but she didn’t mention her parents or her sister.

  “Just a couple of questions, and I’ll let you rest while I go talk to Judge Bowen and Judge Thorpe,” he said.

  “They’re here?”

  He nodded. “So is your boss, Thurman. They’re in the waiting room discussing their contempt for an attorney named Simmons.”

  “I’d like to see them.”

  “There are about twenty other people waiting to say hello and make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’ll talk to Judge Bowen, and—”

  “After I talk to them,” he said. “But before I go . . . do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  “Don’t you mean, who wants me dead?”

  “Yes.”

  She started wiggling fingers on her right hand, then her left, as she counted. Then her right hand again.

  “At least fifteen people would like to get rid of me,” she said.

  “Did you include Jorguson?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. “Should I? That makes it sixteen people who would like me to disappear. I’m sure there are more. I’ll be happy to write their names down for you.”

  He thought she was joking. He walked over to the side of her bed, towering over her. “This is a serious matter, Olivia,” he said.

  “I am being serious, Grayson.”

  “Your aunt told me she couldn’t imagine anyone would want to harm you. She said you’re sweet and kindhearted.”

  “I’m not.” She sounded disgruntled.

  He
wasn’t going to argue with her. He turned to leave and stopped, remembering the other question he wanted to ask. “When we were having lunch, you told me you had a goal you wanted to accomplish.”

  “Yes.” She’d hoped he’d forgotten the conversation.

  “Does your goal have anything to do with the number of people who would like to get rid of you?”

  “Yes.”

  He waited for her to explain, but she remained stubbornly silent. “We aren’t playing twenty questions,” he snapped. “What’s your goal, Olivia?”

  She knew he would eventually find out what she was trying to do. What did she care if he thought she was a vindictive, traitorous daughter? Doing the right thing was more important than the guilt she felt.

  “I’m going to put my father in prison.”

  * * *

  After talking to Judge Bowen, Judge Thorpe, and Royal Thurman, Grayson understood their contempt for the attorney Carl Simmons. Suggesting that Olivia was a drug addict at a very young age when, in fact, she had gone through chemotherapy was despicable, and Grayson personally wanted to throw the bastard into a wall.

  He spent the next several hours finding out all he could about Olivia that wasn’t on her résumé. Her aunt Emma was a great help. Despite the weather, she had managed to get back to D.C., and they sat together in the nearly deserted hospital cafeteria discussing Olivia’s past and her contentious relationship with her immediate family. Emma began by telling him about the experimental program Olivia and three other young girls were part of and a little of what they had endured.

  “Olivia wouldn’t be happy I’m telling you about this,” Emma said. “She’s a very private person. Her relationship with her parents was strained even back then. I didn’t realize for a long time that none of them—her father, her mother, nor her sister—ever came to see Olivia when she was allowed visitors at the hospital. Olivia was all alone.”

  Grayson didn’t show any reaction to what she was telling him, but he now understood why Olivia helped kids who didn’t have anyone to watch out for them. She knew what it was like.

  “Tell me about her father.”

  “Robert MacKenzie is one of the most charismatic men you’ll ever meet. He could sell you a beach house in the Arctic. He walks into a room, and he owns it. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “In the past Robert has run several companies. Each one ended up going under, yet Robert did quite well. He got his salary and bonus when he resigned. He’s always lived extravagantly. When he bought a home in New York, I thought he would divorce my sister, but that didn’t happen. She’s still with him.”

  “He was CEO of these companies?”

  “Yes. It was all legal,” she said.

  “Now he runs his own investment firm?”

  “That’s right, the Trinity Fund, and it’s quite successful. On paper anyway. Olivia knows several people who have given her father their retirement funds to invest. They all get quarterly statements showing how well their investments are doing. She’s seen how her father works, and she’s convinced this is just another one of his scams.”

  “She thinks he’s running a Ponzi scheme?”

  “If he is, she hasn’t been able to prove it. Shall we head back upstairs? I’d like to say good-bye to Olivia and find out if she needs me to bring her anything.”

  Grayson walked by Emma’s side to the elevator. He was lost in thought. “What do you think of Robert MacKenzie?”

  “I agree with Olivia. He should be in prison.”

  The number of people on Olivia’s enemy list made sense now. She’d been asking questions and probing, bringing attention to her father’s firm. She probably had already gone to the SEC, and the men raking in the money wouldn’t like that one little bit.

  A woman in a wheelchair was coming out of Olivia’s room when they arrived. A slender young man was pushing the chair. Emma introduced Olivia’s friend Jane and her brother, Logan, to Grayson.

  Logan extended his hand and said, “You’re gonna catch this guy, right?”

  “Yes,” Grayson assured him.

  “When are you going home, Jane?” Emma asked.

  “Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll come back in a month or so when Olivia’s strength is back.”

  “Olivia is giving Jane some of her blood,” Logan explained. “It’s got antibodies she needs. Right, Jane?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Olivia’s worn-out, so I wouldn’t stay long. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Logan has a meeting to attend.”

  “And you need rest,” he told Jane.

  Emma and Grayson watched until they turned the corner. Then Emma said, “Jane doesn’t look at all well, does she? She’s so pale.”

  Grayson thought Jane’s brother looked just as sickly. When Emma went on into Olivia’s room, he stopped to go over the schedule with the agent on duty tonight. After that, he called Ronan to talk about Robert MacKenzie’s investment firm and found out that Ronan had already dug into Olivia’s family and had come up with all sorts of possibilities for those relatives who might want Olivia out of the way. He wondered if Olivia knew that her brother-in-law, George, had a gambling problem and had recently taken out another mortgage on his home to pay some of his debts.

  By the time Grayson ended his conversation with Ronan, Emma had left and Olivia was alone. He checked his watch as he entered her room. He needed to head home soon. Now that his nephew was living with him, he tried to eat dinner with him as often as possible to give him some kind of stable home life.

  Olivia was fighting sleep. The television was on, and she was trying to watch the news. Her eyelids kept closing on her. She saw Grayson and asked, “Why are you here? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Were you assigned to this investigation?”

  “No,” he answered. “I asked for it.”

  The pain medication was kicking in, and she was feeling a bit loopy. “Because of Jorguson.”

  “No, because of you.”

  She frowned. “Let’s get something straight.”

  “All right,” he agreed. “What?”

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “You wanted to get something straight.”

  She remembered. “You better understand, Grayson. I’m never going to ask you to kiss me again.”

  He smiled. “You won’t need to.”

  His cell phone rang, interrupting the moment, which was a good thing, he thought, because he was seriously thinking about kissing her. He knew that he wouldn’t give in to the urge, but he didn’t like the fact that he wanted her.

  His nephew was calling to remind him that he had to build a solar system and that Grayson had promised to help.

  “What solar system?”

  “The solar system,” Henry stressed.

  “This is the first I’m hearing about this, Henry.”

  “I was sure I told you, and I thought you said you would help me.”

  “When is it due?” he asked, thinking that he would make time this weekend to help him.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Ah, come on. “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, and we need stuff.”

  “What stuff?” Grayson wondered.

  “Stuff to make it. Like Styrofoam and string maybe.”

  Grayson noticed that Olivia’s head was back on her pillow and her eyelids were at half-mast, but she was smiling. She obviously thought the conversation was amusing. He didn’t. This parent “stuff” was a bitch.

  “Okay. I’m on my way home.” He ended the call and said, “I guess you got all that.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He turned nine two weeks ago.”

  “And you need to build a solar system?”

  “Apparently so. I’ll be driving all over to
wn looking for supplies. I better get going.”

  “Good luck,” she whispered and fell sound asleep.

  TWELVE

  The night before Olivia was released from the hospital, her aunt Emma came to visit and insisted that Olivia move into her home to recuperate. Olivia refused. She told her aunt she wanted to sleep in her own bed and not be fussed over. In truth, she didn’t want to put Emma in any danger, and as long as the shooter was still out there, everyone around Olivia was at risk.

  As Emma was leaving, Grayson and Ronan walked in. Emma smiled at the agents and said, “Grayson, in all this confusion I forgot to ask about your father. How is he doing?”

  “Better,” he answered but didn’t expound.

  Olivia was curious to know what had happened to his father but thought it would be intrusive to ask. She’d have to wait until she and Emma were alone to find out the details. Not that it was any of her business, she reminded herself. She had made up her mind to maintain a professional relationship with Grayson and not to ask any personal questions.

  “Please give him my best,” Emma said. She turned to Olivia. “I’ll be here early tomorrow to drive you home.”

  Grayson stepped forward. “I . . . we feel it would be best if I took Olivia home . . . for security reasons,” he said.

  “All right,” Emma responded. She gave Olivia a kiss on the forehead and left.

  Grayson had a list of questions he wanted to ask Olivia, particularly about her brother-in-law and the debt he had incurred. Did she know about it? Did her sister? From what he had discovered thus far, Olivia’s relationship with her family was strained at best. In the days she had been in the hospital, he hadn’t seen any member of Olivia’s immediate family come to visit.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to ask any of his questions. A constant stream of visitors, several phone calls, and her exhaustion overrode his agenda. He decided to wait until tomorrow to talk about her family.

  The following morning, he drove her home from the hospital but didn’t bring up the obviously uncomfortable subject of her relatives. When Grayson announced that an off-duty policeman would be arriving soon to keep watch outside her door, she protested. As long as she stayed inside her apartment, she insisted, she was safe. Grayson listened to her argument and ignored it, stating emphatically that the guard was not negotiable.