Chapter 4
The following night, Sascha curled up on an old patchwork quilt her grandmother had made for her on her red vinyl couch with a wolf shifter, romantic suspense novel, glad to have a break from work for the rest of the week.
She’d already spent the day packing a few of her household goods so she could move to her new house on Prescott’s property by the end of the week and was ready to just enjoy a book and some alone time.
No matter how late it got, she planned to read her book all the way through.
She sipped a glass of lemonade, then set the glass on a cork coaster on the coffee table.
An antique clock on her bookshelf chimed without warning, sending shivers down her back.
Nine times it sounded. She shifted on the squishy vinyl and turned the next page in her book.
The doorbell rang, instantly startling her. She dropped the book promptly on the floor and turned to face the front door.
Now that Katrina had moved out of the apartment next door and into Prescott's main house on several acres on the lake with him, Sascha hadn’t had any more impromptu visits from her cousin.
She certainly wasn’t expecting any gentleman callers.
It better not be Damon! She strode to the door and peeked through the peephole.
The man who stood in her porch light wore a black cap and suit. For a minute, she tried to figure out who wore such clothes, then she realized he must have been some kind of limousine driver. She opened her latched door. “Yes?”
“Miss Sascha Lassiter?”
“Yes?”
“I’m here to pick you up so that you may provide the entertainment for Mr. Gregory Landry’s function tonight, Ma’am.”
“He’ll have to find someone else to entertain him and his rich friends.” She began to close the door, but the man held it open with his foot.
“He’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’m not interested. You can tell him I said so.”
“He said your usual fee is a thousand dollars.”
“He’s right.”
“He’ll pay you fifteen hundred.”
She hesitated. “Fifteen hundred? For just my usual?”
“That’s what he said. He’s a competitive sort when it comes to the Worthingtons.”
She could imagine. Considering the idea, she glanced down at the floor, but when the driver pulled out an envelope, the sound of crinkling paper made her look up at him.
“For your time tonight, Ma’am.”
The concept definitely appealed. But working for a man who thought she wanted to snag him for his wealth didn’t appeal. “Tell him I thank him for his generosity, but I’m not free tonight.”
“Two thousand then?”
She smiled. “How high is he willing to go?”
“Three thousand.”
Liking Gregory’s driver, she chuckled. She was certain he wasn’t supposed to tell her that. “What’s your name?”
“Raymond, Ma’am.”
“Well, Raymond, come on in.”
She walked into her bedroom and called out to the driver standing in her living room, “I’ll get my dancing shoes on, and we’ll run over to Greg’s place so I can earn my money.
” She pulled out a flouncy, colorful skirt, a corset, and a sheer bolero with long, full sleeves, the wristbands gold- and silver-trimmed.
She grabbed her sandals and walked into the living room to put them on. She glanced at him as she slipped her sandals on and studied his neatly trimmed blond hair. “Too bad you weren’t a redhead.”
Smiling at her, Raymond handed her the cash. She carried the envelope into the bedroom. After tucking the money away in a safe in the vent, she grabbed a beaded bag and joined Raymond in the living room again.
Looping her arm through his, she said, “All right, Raymond, let’s have some fun.”
Gregory knew Sascha would come to his home to provide the entertainment once he offered her more money than Prescott had paid her. Though he still couldn’t get over the fact that she would initially say no to a job when the waiter had given her Gregory’s note.
With great humility, he’d had to send his trusted driver to her apartment with the bribe money to get her to turn up when he’d promised his guests she would be at his house.
Though he’d sent extra cash in case she couldn’t be enticed, he knew that increasing the fee that Prescott had paid her would reel her right in. Money. That’s what she lived for.
The secret concerning her family needed to be unraveled, too. He loved a mystery, and he would find out sooner or later what she was all about. Not for a second did he believe she had any special powers that would help him figure out who wanted him dead though.
He punched in the number to Raymond’s cell phone to find out when they were arriving. He knew they would be, yet what if she had stubbornly refused?
“Hello, Mr. Landry. We’re on our way to your estate this very minute, sir.”
Satisfied, Gregory smiled. “Okay. So what did I have to pay her?”
“The whole thing.”
He groaned. Not that he couldn’t afford the extra cash, but he really didn’t think it would go that far.
Raymond had always been one to be trusted.
He couldn’t believe Sascha had turned down the fifteen hundred.
Since Gregory could talk in private to Raymond with the limousine’s glass window rolled up between the driver and the passengers’ seats, Gregory asked, “What happened?”
“The lady said she was busy.”
“Painting her nails?”
“She’d been reading a—well, it looked like some kind of wolf-shifter romance book. You know the kind, one with some great-looking guy and gal and a big gray wolf on the cover.”
Hopeless romantic. Gregory shook his head. “She wouldn’t even take fifteen hundred?”
“She wished to thank you for your generosity. That’s all, but she wasn’t free tonight.”
“Thanks for changing her mind.” Or at least his money had. “I’ll have to have her work longer to make up for the extra cash.”
“That ought to work, sir.”
“See you in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gregory hung up his phone. Was he crazy?
He told himself he wanted to find out what was going on with the gypsy family.
There was nothing more to it than that. But to pay three thousand dollars for her parlor tricks?
He sighed. Even the two private investigators hadn’t turned up anything that he had wanted to know about the family.
Sascha definitely had to earn her pay, as far as he was concerned.
He glanced at the guests he’d invited to the impromptu affair. Not one held his interest. Sascha had bewitched him thoroughly. All he could think of was dancing with her close to a waltz like Camden had done. The idea instantly sent a surge of adrenaline straight to his boxer briefs.
Trying to take his mind off the redhead and the time, he talked with a friend of the family.
Tall and blonde, Stephanie didn’t interest him.
She was well-to-do based on her daddy’s money and was snarky.
He glanced at his watch, and Stephanie smiled at him.
“Sorry, Gregory. Your mind seems to be somewhere else this evening.”
“Yeah, Stephanie. Sorry. I hired an entertainer for tonight, but she hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Well, you know how people like that are. They get popular and think they can get these gigs no matter how much they charge or how inconsiderate they are. So who is she? A singer?”
“No, a dancer and fortune teller.”
Stephanie’s mouth dropped wide open. “Katrina Landry?” Her voice was tinged with hatred.
He raised a brow. “You know her?”
“She’s coming here?”
He’d never seen Stephanie so incensed. Her cheeks grew red as her blue eyes steamed. “No, her cousin, Sascha Lassiter.”
Stephanie’s face turned as white as a passing cloud; then she shook her head. “Stay clear of that family, or you’re asking for trouble.”
Before he could ask her what she meant, she turned on her stiletto heels and stormed off. He glanced down at his watch. Jeez. They were already twenty minutes past due. What was taking them so long?
He dialed Raymond’s number, but no one answered. Immediately, he knew something was terribly wrong. It shouldn’t have taken them longer than twenty minutes. If they’d encountered trouble, Raymond would have called him immediately.
Sascha gripped the leather seat as she studied the red pickup truck's headlights, which followed close behind them. She tapped on the privacy glass window between Raymond and her. As soon as he slid the partition open, she said, “That pickup—”
She didn’t have a chance to say anything else. The truck barreled into the black Lincoln limousine’s left rear corner with a thunderous bang.
Raymond shouted, “Hold on! Damn, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”
Everything occurred so quickly; she barely had a chance to breathe.
Metal grinding against metal filled the air with a raucous sound.
The pickup rubbed up against the limousine, nudging it into the railing.
Her heart racing, Sascha knew real trouble lay ahead, and she hated that she couldn't do anything about it.
The car continued to grind against the railing, the truck locking them in place. Sparks scattered in the dark. The screeching of brakes and the mashing of steel assaulted their ears. Then to Sascha’s relief, the truck pulled away.
“Can we climb out before the limo falls into the river?” she asked Raymond, her voice panicky.
“No. We’re not going to make it!” Raymond shouted. “The brakes are out, and the steering mechanism’s been damaged by the railing.”
The pickup came in for the kill.
She practically held her breath. “Raymond, can you open the car windows?” Her voice sounded calm, despite the panic rising in her chest.
“Yeah.”
The truck rammed them hard. The limousine careened through the railing.
Instantly, the car's interior filled with airbags, and then the white cloth deflated.
When she could see through the windows again, she realized the car had stopped and was now teetering precariously on top of the railing like a seesaw.
Raymond rolled down the windows. “What do you have in mind?”
“Swimming to shore, if we survive the fall, and whoever rammed us doesn’t try to shoot us.”