And this was far from finished.
His words were measured and sharp, like hail falling against a tin roof. “You’re right, you don’t have any business with me. Your husband did.” His eyes remained on Nicole, cutting the other man completely out of the picture. “Too bad he had to die so young. My condolences.”
Nicole felt as if she were looking into the eyes of Death. “Thank you.”
“A few weeks before he died, he took something from me. Something I’m very sentimental about.” He smiled, showing off two perfect rows of teeth. “I was hoping it was here.”
She hadn’t seen anything out of place amid the things Craig kept here and if Standish was sentimental, then she was a choirboy. “What was it?”
He had no intention of telling her. “I’ll know it if I see it. Don’t trouble yourself by looking, I’ll just—” He began to enter the apartment.
She didn’t want this man here. Like a militant soldier, she barred his way. “You’ll tell me what it is, or you’ll leave.”
She was going to be trouble, just like her husband, Standish thought. He hated using a gun. It was far too messy and personal, but he had no qualms about eliminating what was in his way.
“After I look around.”
Very gently, Dennis pushed Nicole to the background, his body a buffer between her and Standish. “The lady said to leave.”
She saw something that frightened her flicker in Standish’s eyes. Damn Craig and his stupidity. What had he gotten them into?
She placed her hand on Dennis’s arm, silently telling him that she could handle this. “Craig kept very little of his things here, Mr. Standish. He traveled a lot. Maybe whatever it is that you’re looking for was left behind in some hotel room.”
Rooms in seven different hotels had all been systematically torn apart. “I’ve already eliminated that possibility. He was here before his last race.”
For a total of about ten minutes, she thought. Bent on partying before the big race, Craig had left her behind like so much lead weight. Even so, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go through Craig’s things yet. She’d meant to, but every time she started, the pain of memories prevented her.
Nicole sighed. “Leave your number and I’ll call you if I find anything, but I doubt—”
“Don’t doubt, Mrs. Logan. He had it. I know that for a fact. I suggest you find it, Mrs. Logan.” Each time he said her name, she felt as if he were laughing at her. “And quickly.” His glance lowered from her face to rest on her abdomen. “Unfortunate things have been known to happen, even to ladies in your delicate condition when they don’t cooperate.”
Numbed by the barely veiled threat, Nicole curved her hand protectively over her belly. Words failed her.
Dennis shook off her hand from his arm, pushing himself directly into Standish’s face. Though the same height, he guessed that the other man had about five years on him. And a few more pounds. The slight bulge under his coat was what he used to even things out. Dennis knew he could disable him before he ever reached for his weapon, but that wouldn’t be in keeping with the image he was trying to project for Nicole.
“She said to leave.” His voice was as low, as deliberate, as Standish’s. “I think she meant now.”
There was nothing to be gained by a physical confrontation, at least not one with a witness. Standish was accustomed to picking his places. There would always be time enough for that later, if necessary. Trask said to keep the body count down to a minimum after Logan. Trask was getting old and soft, but for now, he still ran the Syndicate and had to be obeyed.
Standish inclined his head, addressing himself to Nicole. “Fine. I realize that all this must have taken you by surprise, Mrs. Logan. I’m not an unreasonable man. But I do tend to grow impatient if I’m kept waiting too long. I’ll be back.”
He paused to consider a time frame. “Say in a week?” He had no intention of waiting that long. His eyes skimmed over her girth before he stepped away from the door. “In the meantime, if I were you, I would give very serious consideration to what I said.”
Hands shaking, Nicole slammed the door closed behind Standish. Only then did she give in to the fear that had taken hold of her.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
She looked as if she were going to faint. Dennis quickly took her arm. Her skin had turned almost translucent and her hands were clammy. “Are you all right?”
Nicole passed her hand over her face. What could Craig have possibly taken from that man? It couldn’t have been money, Standish would have asked for that outright—wouldn’t he?
She didn’t look at Dennis as she replied. “Not really.”
Dennis guided her to the chair in the kitchen, then placed a hand on her shoulder, gently urging her into it. “Why don’t you sit down?” He studied her face, wondering how to handle this new turn of events. Either she really didn’t know the man who was just here or anything he was talking about, or she was one hell of an actress. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged helplessly. She could call the police, but what good would that do? There wasn’t really very much information she could give them. They usually responded after the fact, not before. “It was probably just an empty threat.”
Men like Standish didn’t make empty threats. It was bad for business. “It didn’t sound very empty from where I was standing.”
“No,” Nicole whispered, “it didn’t.” She looked up, suddenly realizing that she had said the words aloud. She tried to gloss over the situation. “Craig periodically got involved with people who wouldn’t have met with approval at a Daughters of the American Revolution meeting.”
Dennis nodded his head toward the door. “So then this is nothing new for you?”
“I didn’t say that.” Nicole took a long, steadying breath. She could handle this. She’d handled everything else until now. She just didn’t know how yet. “They’ve just never made house calls before.”
God, what a fool Craig had been. Could she have really been in love with him? Could she have really been so damn blind and missed all these defects when she had agreed to run off with him?
She knew the truth now. She hadn’t been running away with Craig so much as running away from home. And her father.
Nicole ran her hands along her arms. She felt cold, even as the heater was turning over.
“It wasn’t enough for him to have it all,” she murmured, half to herself, half to Dennis. “Fame, women hanging on him, money, it wasn’t enough.” Sadness rimmed her smile. “He wanted more.”
She looked at Dennis, who was patiently listening to her. Why, she still hadn’t figured out. Just as she didn’t know why she was even saying this, except that it had been bottled up for so long and he was a stranger, not a friend. Sometimes it was easier to talk to strangers.
“There were a few pockets of time when he gambled away more
