Chapter 12 #2
Standing, Ronan pulled the receiver off his desk phone and stood ready to dial 911. “Is your door locked?”
“Yes,” she said shakily, standing slowly so that his view was of her velour-clad legs. “I’m going to look through the peephole.”
“Non!” he barked. “Stay away from the door. Go to the kitchen and ask who it is. Take your phone with you.”
Ireland grabbed the device, and for a moment, all he saw was a blur of white as she carried it.
“W-who is it?” she called out, her voice trembling.
The answer was too muffled for Ronan to hear, but then she lifted the phone to reveal her face. Her relief was obvious, although she still looked scared and unwell. “It’s my dad.”
Ronan’s heart was pounding so fiercely, it felt like he’d run all the way back to her building. “Walk as quietly as you can to the door and look now. Make sure he’s alone.”
“You’re scaring me,” she whispered, her lips colorless.
“Forgive me. I just need to be sure you’re safe.”
She lowered her phone again and did as he asked. Then he heard the door open and Chris Vidal’s voice. “Hang on a second, Dad.”
He exhaled harshly, returning the receiver to its cradle.
Ireland’s face filled the screen again, her cheeks now a soft pink. “It’s just him.”
“I’ll let you go,” he said. “But you need to find out why you weren’t notified. That’s unacceptable.”
“I’ll ask.” The return of her smile was like sunshine. “See you soon, you sexy Cajun beast.”
She blew him a kiss before ending the call, and Ronan sank back into his chair, his thoughts full of her and all he must do to gain peace of mind.
It was also evident that his cher was extremely fragile.
Her emotions were swinging between extremes, from too brightly cheerful to paralyzed with fear within the space of a heartbeat, and back again.
The door to his office opened abruptly, and Jules filled the doorway again. “The police have checked in downstairs. I told security to send them up to the offices.”
Ronan sobered. “That was quick.”
Leaving the door open, Jules entered and stopped in front of the desk. “Scarlett is what you need, gros bête. If you gave her your attention and care, she would make you the happiest of men.”
“I couldn’t be less interested in pursuing a relationship with Scarlett.”
“I don’t understand that. At all.”
“Ireland Vidal is the most gorgeous woman alive,” he said absently, speaking his thoughts aloud. “She’s funny, irreverent, intelligent, fierce, too sexy for my own good, and somehow has the humility of someone who doesn’t realize she’s perfect.”
And the thought of her suffering or fearing anything at all stirred something fiercely primitive inside him.
Jules rolled his eyes. “As if the same couldn’t be said of Scarlett, a woman who’s far more compatible with your life and sensibilities.”
“Scarlett is absolutely aware of her beauty,” he drawled, running through a checklist in his mind. “And while I’m quite fond of her, I’ve never found myself thinking of her when she’s not present.”
“You’re missing a screw or something,” Jules muttered, crossing his arms.
Ronan’s fingers drummed on the armrests of his chair. “I’m beginning to resent everyone’s inability to be happy for me—especially when I’m feeling energized and excited by a dynamic woman who, by some miracle, feels something similar for me.”
“Women have always fallen at your feet. Pick someone who won’t get you thrown back in jail or otherwise destroy the life we’ve worked so hard to build.”
“Are you sharing notes with Claudy? She said almost the exact same thing to me.” He shrugged. “Maybe it won’t last, but everyone betting against us only makes me dig my heels in deeper.”
Jules looked heavenward, as if praying for patience. “Obstinacy is most definitely one of your flaws.”
Ronan’s desk phone rang, and he answered, “McCaffrey.”
“Hi, Mr. McCaffrey. This is reception. There are two NYPD detectives here who want to speak with you.”
“You can direct them to my office. Thanks.” Hanging up, he looked at Jules. “Ready?”
Jules set his hands on his hips. “Claudy and I warned you this could happen. Scarlett would never put you in this position.”
“Whether I was here or at home, the authorities would naturally investigate anyone who’d been hostile to the Vidals or Cross. This just speeds things up. And I have questions of my own to ask.”
Jules rounded the desk and stood beside him.
The detectives appeared a moment later, a petite woman of Asian heritage and an extremely large Latino man who towered over her.
They both wore blazers and dress slacks, and they both eyed him with hard, flat, knowing gazes that told him they knew his background.
Ronan’s hackles rose, and he knew it was vital to tread cautiously.
He stood. “Detectives. I’m Ronan McCaffrey Boudreaux. This is my brother, Jules Robichaux.”
“I’m also his attorney,” Jules added.
The detectives introduced themselves.
“Please, have a seat,” Ronan said. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Soda?”
“Coffee would be nice,” Vega accepted as he took a seat. “A splash of cream and two sugars.”
Jang pulled a notepad out of her jacket. “I’m good.”
Ronan sat and called his assistant. After making his request, he hung up and sat back. “How can I help you, detectives?”
“We have a few questions in regard to the Vidal kidnapping,” Jang began, her eyes on him. “We understand you’ve got something of a vendetta against the Vidals, is that correct?”
“Against Chris Vidal, Sr., yes. Not the Vidals as a unit. I’m dating Ireland Vidal.”
“How serious would you say your relationship is?” Vega asked.
“Serious enough to reconsider my plans to liquidate the assets of this company and to find a more permanent lodging situation than a hotel.”
Jang’s expression didn’t change. “What’s your beef with her father?”
“He lied.”
“About what?”
Ronan smiled. “Please ask him. If he should tell anyone what he’s done, it’s the police.”
“Ireland said you were cagey about the reason,” Vega said.
“Her father has more answers than I do. I wasn’t even born yet when the incident happened.”
“So how do you know that you have accurate information?” Jang asked.
“The expression on his face when we met is proof enough for me.”
A knock at the door announced the arrival of Vega’s coffee. Ronan waited until his assistant left and they were alone again to continue.
He set his linked hands on his desktop. “I had nothing to do with Ireland Vidal’s kidnapping.
We’ve only recently begun seeing each other, but my interest isn’t casual by any measure.
I would never hurt her, place her in danger, or use her as leverage.
I am very concerned, however, that she’s not safe.
What’s being done to find the individual who’s still out there? ”
Vega’s face remained impassive. “What individual are you referring to? Where are you getting your information?”
Ronan took a deep breath to keep from speaking too harshly. “Again, Ireland and I are dating. That means we talk about what’s happening in our lives.”
“The existence of a fourth perpetrator isn’t being shared with the public, so the fewer people who know about it, the better.”
“I’m not going to jeopardize your case, detective.” Ronan’s tone was clipped. “Ireland’s safety is my primary concern.”
“Everything is being done,” Jang answered. “Obviously, this is a high-profile case involving high-profile individuals. We won’t stop investigating until we bring everyone responsible and/or involved to justice.”
Ronan didn’t miss the veiled threat in her neutral tone. “That level of public interest and media pressure sometimes leads to hasty conclusions and sloppy witness vetting.”
Vega’s expression hardened. “What about your family? How do they feel about you dating Ireland Vidal?”
Jules set his hand briefly on Ronan’s shoulder. “He can’t speak for anyone else.”
“What happened to Ireland is horrific,” Ronan answered. “No one I know is capable of it.”
Vega looked at him over the steaming rim of his Vidal Records mug. “People can do crazy things if they’re angry enough.”
“I took over this company and pushed Chris Vidal out. That was my goal, and it’s now behind me. I don’t have any reason to even think of him now, aside from when Ireland mentions him.”
“But apparently, you and…”—Jang paused to flip through her notepad—“…Alina Rurik were the only two people who knew Ireland was going to be leaving the event early.”
“That’s incorrect. Ireland gave me no indication that she was accepting my invitation. I had no idea that she was on her way to meet me until after she was taken.”
“We couldn’t find any record of flights booked for either you or Ireland,” Vega said.
“I’m a pilot with my own aircraft,” Ronan explained. “If she’d shown up at Teterboro, she would’ve been added to the passenger manifest.”
“Did you tell anyone that you expected or hoped that Ireland would be traveling with you?”
“My housekeeper, so she could prepare for a possible guest.”
Jang studied him. “You must’ve been fairly certain that Ireland would say yes.”
“I was hopeful. As I said, I’m invested in building a relationship with her.”
“You think Alina Rurik could do something like this to her best friend?” Vega queried.
Jules gripped his shoulder again. “He can’t speak for someone else.”
“I’m asking his opinion,” the detective countered.
“He’s not a consultant for the NYPD.” Jules crossed his arms. “Nor is he qualified to speak about anyone else’s state of mind.”
Ronan set his forearms on his desk. “As I said before, I don’t know anyone capable of this.”
“Including the other members of your family?” Jang pushed.
“Especially not.”
“How about your father?”
Ronan arched a brow but otherwise remained still. “He’s far removed from my day-to-day life, as I’m sure you know.”
“Do you know Michael John Miller?”