A Beautiful Heartbreak ( NYC Series #1) Page 4

  “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Well get more or this is never going to work.”

  That voice sounded familiar.

  “He’s already divorcing you, why can’t we just accept what he’s giving you so we can run away together?”

  “I signed a stupid prenup, and if he’s caught cheating, I get more. I want more!”

  Her voice was annoying, but this was a good situation to be eavesdropping on, so I stayed.

  “I’m sending the sexiest ones I can. What do you want me to do, send them in naked? Trust me; if you want him to fall for the bait, we have to dangle a few teases in front of him.”

  “It’s not working because they aren’t staying long enough,” the woman huffed.

  “Look, I can’t send the ones that would be a perfect fit. They’re ugly as shit, and he would never give them a passing glance. They’re plain and frumpy, but completely qualified for what he’s looking for. If you want him to fuck his assistant, let me do my work. We had a deal.”

  “We certainly did.” The woman’s voice took on a seductive tone, and I could hear the man groan.

  “Baby, you gotta ride my cock. My receptionist will be back soon with our coffees.”

  I heard silence, then he started to moan. “That’s it. Go faster.”

  “You better get the job done,” she told him, “or you’re cut off.”

  “Fuck,” he grunted, and I had no idea if it was because of her comment or because she was riding his cock.

  Again, I tried not to laugh. I’m not one for dirty talk; it always makes me laugh. That’s why the one time I tried to watch porn, back in college, it was the last; I just couldn’t stop laughing.

  The woman started to moan, and I thought I could push the door open just enough to get a look, while they were preoccupied, but as soon as my hand touched the door, I heard a noise behind me. The front door had opened. I rushed back down the hallway and saw a short older woman setting three coffees down on her desk.

  “I’m sorry, can I help you?”

  “My information is on the clipboard, but I can’t stay.” I rushed out, ignoring her, and pulled out my phone to call Alexa.

  “Hey,” she greeted.

  “So, someone is cheating on someone else.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Well, I couldn’t see them, the door was closed, but they were having sex.”

  She started laughing at me. “You listened to them?”

  “Shut up. I was doing my job.”

  “This is hilarious!”

  “No, it’s not!”

  “So, what should we do?”

  “I’m going to sit outside and wait for the lady to leave.”

  “Perfect. She sounds like a bimbo.”

  “She sounded familiar.”

  I heard muffled laughter on the other end of the phone, and Alexa whispered something away from the phone. More giggling and I rolled my eyes.

  “So, I’m with a friend right now,” she paused. “Can I call you back?”

  “This friend better be a detective.”

  “He is.”

  The line clicked, and I found a nearby bench to sit on.

  Then I waited.

  They couldn’t be in there that long. I assumed the man worked there, most likely the boss, and the woman was asking him to set up her husband to have an affair, but it didn’t make sense. Clearly, I was missing pieces of the puzzle. I needed to follow this woman. That sounded better than trying to figure out the temp service and why they undoubtedly sucked at their job. Unless it was a front for something else? They weren’t busy. The receptionist left the desk unattended, and the boss was screwing some bimbo in his office.

  None of it made sense.

  I had my camera sitting on my knee, facing the door that she would have to walk out of, ready to take pictures. It wasn’t a huge camera, but it was a professional one, so I did my best not to let it give me away.

  I felt someone sit next to me, but I kept my eye on the door until he spoke.

  “I heard you’re looking for me.”

  I glanced at him, gave him a quick scan, and put my eyes back to the door. He didn’t look like his picture, but I knew it was Lucas Hills. He looked shady and rough, and he kept his body slightly turned away from me.

  “Your mom’s worried.”

  “Tell her you found me, and that I’m good.”

  “Why?” I asked looking at him again. “Are you good?”

  He leaned forward, glancing around. “Shut it down.”

  I glanced back at the door and finally saw movement. I was at least fifty feet away, but I knew that uptight bitch. I started snapping pictures and then turned my back to her so she wouldn’t recognize me.

  Lucas Hills was gone.

  This was new.

  I put his shit to the side and slid my camera back into my bag. I glanced around for her and saw her skinny legs walking away in the opposite direction, so I followed. She was wearing a short black mini dress, and her long, blond hair held curls today. She had her oversized purse on one arm, and her phone grasped in her hand. She was looking at it, barely paying attention to anyone around her. She finally put the phone to her ear and stopped walking. Her ragged body movements told me she was arguing with someone on the phone, maybe even yelling, but I wasn’t close enough to hear, and there were too many other people rushing around on their phones.

  She shoved her phone into her purse and hailed a cab. I had a feeling I knew where she was going. I grabbed a cab and gave him the address before shooting a text to Alexa.

  We have to talk soon! Following a lead.

  I got some info also. Meet up at the sub shop in an hour?

  Should work

  I pulled out a twenty and handed it to the driver, holding eye contact so he knew my bribe was serious. “Try not to lose that cab.”

  “Whatever.” He grabbed my money and went a little faster. He took a few corners a little rough, and I realized I didn’t have on my seatbelt.

  I gasped as horns honked furiously behind us and scrambled to grab the ‘oh shit’ handle above me. I glared at him as I snapped my seatbelt in place, testing its tightness. “You told me not to lose them.”

  “Well, don’t kill us in the meantime.”

  “We’re almost there,” he snapped, slamming on the breaks at a red light.

  “I’ll walk from here,” I said climbing out of the cab, tossing the fare that flashed on the dash in the front seat.

  I’ll never do that again.

  I saw her get out of her cab, two blocks up, and I started running to catch up with her. She was already waiting for the elevator by the time I got through the door. I kept my body turned away from her and kept my head down while we waited for the elevator to open. She hit the button for the seventh floor, like I anticipated, and I hit the button for the fifth and sixth floors, before sighing and shaking my head. Feigning my mistake, I quickly hit the third-floor button. Truthfully, I should have hit every single one to buy myself more time. I had to stall her, and this was the only thing I could do. She peeked at me from her phone, and I shrugged my shoulder. She groaned when she saw all the buttons I hit. “Really, we’re gonna stop at every floor. What are you, twelve?” she snarled, looking back at her phone.

  “Sorry,” I gave a nervous laugh, “must’ve hit the wrong button.”

  Thankfully the ride was short, and I got off on the third floor and headed to the stairs. I went as fast as I could, but I wasn’t in good shape. Just enough to maintain my size ten figure. Pushing the door open to the seventh floor, I was on the side of Molly’s desk, and the lobby was vacant.

  Huffing for air, I gulped, “Can I go back.” She looked concerned, and I waved it off. “Can I?”

  She must have been on the phone because she nodded, and I ran down the hallway. His door was open, so I went inside and shut it. Then my wobbly legs started to give out on me, and I crawled on my hands and knees to the corner of the room so I’d
be out of the way.

  “Ki.”

  I kept breathing heavily, trying to catch my breath. “Hey.”

  “You in trouble?” he asked, pulling off his black glasses. I saw him hold his hand up, toward his door, probably telling the new girl to leave us alone.

  “Maybe?”

  “The kind of trouble that requires a lawyer?”

  “Maybe?” So much has happened today and it wasn’t even noon. I wasn’t even sure why I came here. To protect him? To rat out his wife, even though I didn’t have any clear evidence of her cheating. She mentioned that they were already getting a divorce to that man she was fucking, so maybe he didn’t care.

  But, maybe I should say something. “Your wife’s here.”

  He chuckled. “See, you are the best person for the job. You can predict things.”

  “Sometimes.” I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “Happenstance.” His deep voice vibrated keeping eye contact.

  I loved that. For some reason, it made sense, but at the same time, it didn’t. So why did I love that word that rolled off his lips so well? Who cares? I loved it.

  I slowly stood up, while he remained at his desk. He started rolling his sleeves down, and I had to ask, “Why do you hide them?”

  “Professionalism, Miss Nicolson.”

  “Makes sense.” My legs were wobbly and I had shin splints, but I stayed standing. I needed to be ready for whatever was about to happen.

  “It does.” He stood and pulled his solid blue silk tie off his desk and looped it around his neck. He tied it without looking and with such precision. “What doesn’t make sense is why you’re here.”

  “I’m not serving you.”

  He chuckled. “That’s good to hear.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Are you?”

  “I might be.”

  His phone rang, and he looked up at his assistant while picking up his phone. “What?” he barked out. “No.”

  He hung up and started putting the papers on his desk into his black leather briefcase. One fell on the floor in front of his desk, and I went and picked it up for him. I was nosy. I looked. It was a picture. Of a dead person. Blood.

  He snapped it out of my hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I said looking behind me to see if she was out there.

  “If you didn’t come here to serve me,” he paused and blew out a breath of air. “Can I be blunt?”

  “You seem like a blunt person.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard for me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He paused what he was doing for a few seconds. “My wife is here.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I stood there like an idiot watching him shove the rest of his papers into his briefcase.

  “Walk out with me. I’ll tell her I’m with a client, and we’ll go sit in the conference room until she leaves.”

  “That won’t work, Mr. Bale. Your wife saw me when I was here working; she won’t buy that I’m a client.”

  He looked at me for a minute with what looked like pity. I waited for him to say what I already knew—that I was forgettable. “Ki, don’t take this the wrong way.” Here it comes. I braced myself for his hurtful words; I’m sure things I’ve already heard before. “My wife,” he paused, probably trying to break the news to me gently. “Vicki is the most stuck-up, pretentious bitch I have ever known. If you aren’t throwing money at her, or allowing her to demean you publicly, or fucking her, she doesn’t register you in her world; she won’t remember you. I’m willing to bet she won’t remember you, so just follow my lead.”

  I glanced at my watch.

  “Do you need to be somewhere?”

  “Kind of.”

  “It won’t take long.” He walked around the desk, the door opened, and her voice shrieked throughout the room.

  “What the hell is this!”

  “I’ve told you that you just can’t walk in here like you own the place.”

  “I’m your wife.”

  “This is my place of business, Vicki.”

  She pointed at me. “You were in the elevator.”

  “Was I?”

  “You hit those buttons on purpose!” She looked back to Prescot. “Who is she?”

  “A client.”

  “Why’d you hit the buttons?”

  “Um. It’s my first time here?”

  “Vicki, leave my client out of this.” He walked passed her, and I slipped in front of him. I needed a barrier between the two of us. She held a perfectly manicured finger to my shoulder to stop me in my tracks. She took a step closer and looked me up and down.

  “I don’t believe you!” she yelled. “Prescot, you mean to tell me that this isn’t the same incompetent secretary you had working here?” She turned her body toward me and chuckled. “Like I’d ever forget . . . Braces.”

  “Vicki, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Prescot’s face held zero emotion, and he put his hand on my lower back to usher me out of the room.

  “There’s no way she could be your client and your secretary, Prescot,” she yelled as we walked down the hallway. We passed a few rooms but kept walking right behind the receptionist desk. Molly turned in her chair, eyes wide, and I just shrugged a shoulder.

  “Molly, call George please.”

  “No, Prescot! No!”

  He pointed to a glass door and told me to wait inside. I went and watched from the room. He whispered into her ear, and she put her arm around his waist. He tried to pull back, but she threw herself at him. She whispered into his ear while glaring at me, and I flipped her off.

  A security guard stepped off the elevator. She hesitated but eventually kissed Prescot’s cheek before swaying her hips over to the elevator. He came into the room, stood next to me, and we watched Vicki and the guard stand in front of the elevator.

  “Have you ever made a decision that you regret?” he asked, keeping his eyes on her.

  “Yes.”

  “How’d you get over it?”

  “I haven’t.”

  He looked down at me with worried eyes and I glanced away. We stood in silence until she was on the elevator at which time she waved goodbye to us.

  Now I wanted to tell him what I saw at the temp agency.

  “I’m late for court.”

  Once again, he left like he wasn’t even there.

  Chapter 6 – Prescot

  She was addictive and a bit hypnotic.

  Unchartered waters.

  Plain Jane.

  Braces.

  Blood.

  Murder.

  “Shit,” I muttered, dropping my pen. “The brother did it.” I grabbed my phone and called our firm’s private investigator. “Hey, Mick, I need some more information on the brother’s alibi.”

  “It was solid.”

  “Check again. I don’t think it was.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “Okay, boss.” He hung up.

  Her sweet smile.

  Her braces.

  Her soft green eyes.

  “Focus, Prescot,” I muttered to myself as if that would help.

  I can’t make it stop.

  It never stops.

  My thoughts, my focus.

  It’s all over the place.

  The words bounce around.

  My mind wanders. A lot. I get short bursts of information. Mostly.

  Murder.

  My client was being charged with murder.

  But he was innocent.

  Very innocent.

  The brother set him up.

  But why? It always comes down to why.

  Why him?

  Why her?

  Why do people do the things they do?

  “Mr. Bale.” I heard the newest assistant speak from the doorway. I lost track of their names after the first few.

  Except her.

  Ki Reagan Nicolson.

  Never had a ticket.

  She doesn
’t own a car.

  My seatbelt pressed me against the backseat as Mother screamed in my face. It was a hot August morning, we were supposed to go on a family vacation, camping. Mother said it would be fun, but nothing is fun when she screamed in my face.

  She terrified me.

  I couldn’t understand why Mother didn’t love me. Why she didn’t understand that my brain was broken. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her, I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t form the words. Which made her angrier.

  “Boy,” she spat, “you better believe I will whip those words outta you.”

  Tears burned my eyes as I thought of the scars the whip left last time. The blood. My sobs.

  “Oh, so you can make noises. All this time, I thought you were deaf, dumb, or both.” She smacked me across my mouth and slammed the door shut. Blood trickled out the side of my lip, my throat tightening, pressing the sob further down. Mother’s right, I must be dumb . . .

  “Mr. Bale.”

  Mother’s face and the hot station wagon vanished from my mind, but the sting on my mouth remained.

  “What!” I snapped, organizing the pictures on my desk.

  “I’m sorry, but your wife called. She’s on her way.”

  “Don’t let her back.” I barely heard her reply while I grabbed a blank piece of paper.

  It was clean.

  Too clean.

  I grabbed some of the photos and flipped through them. Again.

  What was I missing?

  The blood splatter was consistent with the victim’s, but there were two other blood types at the scene. I shuffled the photos and put the clean piece of paper back on top.

  She didn’t wear makeup.

  Ki.

  Ki didn’t wear makeup.

  The victim did. Lots of it. It was all over her apartment.

  Too much color.

  Not enough color.

  Or maybe just enough?

  Ki was just enough.

  Vicki was too much.

  I looked over a few more pictures, the ones with the random blood smears that didn’t belong to the victim. Or my client.

  It’s like they were put there on purpose, to throw us off.

  I heard someone walk in and shut the door. Glancing up, I never thought it’d be her.

  Ki.

  She was crawling on the floor.

  The hardwood floors.