“Precisely. Look, if I was so vile as to have arranged all these deaths, why wouldn’t I kill Witt as well?”
Adria considered, then decided to gamble. “Maybe you wanted him to twist in the wind a little. There are rumors about your rivalry with Witt. It isn’t out of the question to think that you might want to watch one of Julius’s sons face a little pain in his life.” She didn’t mention Anthony’s affair with Witt’s first wife, Eunice, but it hung on the air between them—suspended by invisible threads of innuendo.
Anthony shook his head. “You think I’m some big Mafia don, is that it?” he asked and exchanged looks with his son.
“I don’t know you at all,” Adria pointed out. “In fact, I wasn’t sure I should come here.”
“And why is that?”
Leaning closer to him, she said, “Because, Mr. Polidori—I thought you might have wanted to talk to me to get information on the Danvers family for your own purposes.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“There’s a reason you asked me to dinner and I don’t think it’s because you think that I’ve had a lack of Italian cuisine while growing up in Montana.”
One graying brow lifted. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“It is rumored that if London Danvers does appear, she’ll inherit a good portion of Danvers International.”
Here it comes.
“Many of our business interests are in direct competition with the Danvers Corporation and I was hoping, should you come to inherit part of the fortune, that you might be willing to sell off some of the smaller industries.” Resting his elbows on the table, he propped up his chin. “I’m specifically interested in the Hotel Danvers.”
Her heart dropped to the floor. The hotel? She thought of the ballroom with its glorious chandeliers, the old elevator, the time and money put into renovating the old building to its original state.
“You brought me here to…what? Bribe me?” She shook her head and laughed at the pomposity of this man, who, though he was loath to admit it, was very much like several members of the Danvers clan. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take a number and stand in line. A few people in the Danvers family are already in a bidding war. They seem to think that I can be bought off.”
“Can you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Ahh…an honorable woman. With noble intentions.” His eyes flickered dangerously.
“I just want to find out the truth.”
16
Zach smelled trouble. It sizzled in the air, like electricity before a lightning storm, and drew him back to Portland.
Jason’s panicked phone calls hadn’t caused him to climb into his Jeep and head west over the mountains. Pressing business worries weren’t the reason. Nor had his concern that he’d lose the ranch if Adria proved to be London been his impetus. No, the reason he’d driven like a madman across the mountains had been something more basic, more primal, an urge deep in his guts that he couldn’t suppress and didn’t want to name.
“Idiot,” he ground out as he glowered through the raindrops drizzling down the windshield. The lights of Portland shone like tiny beacons, leading him closer.
To what?
Adria.
He ground his teeth together and his fingers clenched the steering wheel, gripping hard. He didn’t even know where she was staying.
It was after ten by the time she returned to her hotel room. She kicked off her shoes. Rubbing one foot, she sat on the bed and glanced at the mini refrigerator. Didn’t want to go there. She picked up the receiver with her free hand. As she dialed the number Nelson had left with someone at the front desk, she cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear. The phone rang five times and she was about to hang up when he answered.
“Nelson Danvers.”
“This is Adria,” she said. “You called?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Yes, I, uh, thought we should meet. You know, to talk, to get to know each other. I was hoping maybe tonight if you can make it. I’d be willing to come downtown and meet you in the bar of your hotel.”
She glanced at the clock. Why not? It was early and she wasn’t the least bit tired. In fact, the dead rat and then her dinner with the Polidoris had set her nerves on edge and she needed to calm down. She told him she’d meet him in twenty minutes and hung up before she noticed the note—a single piece of paper folded, with her name scratched on the back—lying on the bureau. Oh, God! No one had slipped this piece of paper under the door.
Dread settled in the back of her throat.
Hands shaking, she snatched up the note and opened it. DIE BITCH.
A chill slithered down her spine. Her skin crawled in apprehension. Her lungs were suddenly tight and she nearly dropped the paper onto the floor.
Pull yourself together!
Taking in a deep breath, she decided that the message didn’t bother her as much as the frightening fact that someone had delivered the simple piece of paper to her locked room. The same person who had let himself into her room at the Hotel Danvers, the same creep who had left the dead rat and locket downstairs. Her stomach turned at the thought. He knew where she was staying and worse yet, could come and go as he pleased, while she was away or while she was sleeping.
Panic tore through her but she tamped it down. Yes, she would have to go to the authorities and soon, but for now she couldn’t let some chickenshit letter-writer get to her. She reminded herself that she didn’t scare easily. She’d grown up on the farm and her father had taken her hunting, fishing, and even rock climbing in the Bitterroots. She’d skinny-dipped in Flathead Lake and branded cattle, smelling the searing flesh, hearing the cows bawl, as she learned to be tough. She’d shot the rapids as well as her .22 and she’d watched as her favorite horse had to be destroyed after shattering his leg. She’d faced the threat of losing her home and the death of all her loved ones and, by God, she wasn’t going to let anyone get the better of her. Not by writing silly little notes. Damned coward. She folded the stupid threat and tucked it into her purse with the other one that she’d crumpled, then smoothed flat and decided to keep. Maybe she’d show them both to Nelson and see what he had to say.
Within ten minutes, she was downstairs in the bar, at a private table near windows that looked onto the street. She watched the steady stream of traffic moving slowly between red lights. Pedestrians carrying umbrellas and wrapped in winter coats with the collars turned against the wind dashed along the sidewalks. Always in a hurry.
She hadn’t planned to order a drink, but receiving the package and note had definitely changed her mind. She was sipping a rum and Coke when Nelson appeared. She almost didn’t recognize him, as she’d always seen him impeccably dressed in expensive suits. Tonight his hair was uncombed, windblown and damp from the rain, and he wore a wool sweater, black jeans, and a black leather jacket that looked brand new, as if he’d bought it for the occasion.
Whereas Zachary was rough-and-tumble and wore his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude comfortably, Nelson seemed out of place in clothes a little too fashionable to be casual. An enigma.
Nelson glanced nervously around the room before he spied her. Relief crossed his face as he threaded his way quickly through the tables. He seemed paler than she remembered, less self-assured, and there was a little-boy quality to him that she hadn’t noticed before.
“Adria!” His face broke into a warm smile as he dropped into the chair opposite her. The waiter was there immediately and he ordered a Scotch on the rocks. “You must think it’s strange that I called you,” he said, wiping a few drops of rain from his jacket.
“I expected it.”
“Did you?”
“You’re just the first. I’d guess that everybody in the family will want to have his or her say. You know, try and convince me that it’s in my best interests to leave town.”
His smile didn’t even falter, though she thought she saw a flicker of ice in his warm blue eyes. “Well, I hate to say it, but it would make it a helluva lot easier on you.”