Black Ties and Lullabies Read online

  “Ah, that’s because she is my astrologer,” Jeremy said. “Did I not mention the connection before?”

  “Why, no, I don’t believe you did.” Mrs. Caldwell turned to Bernie. “Do you do readings for others?” She smiled. “I can only hope for more moons in Pisces tonight.”

  “It’s more of a hobby of hers,” Jeremy said. “She wouldn’t want the responsibility of suggesting another person’s path in life.”

  “But you’ll be happy to know, Bernie said, “that Jeremy’s moon is in Gemini today. The Twins. Which means he’s going to give twice as much money as he did at the Sunshine Gala.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Caldwell said, beaming. “You’re such a generous man, Mr. Bridges. With patronage such as yours, the polar bears will live on for generations to come.” She glanced over Jeremy’s shoulder. “Please excuse me. I have other guests to greet. I hope you and your friend have a lovely time tonight!”

  Mrs. Caldwell moved toward her next victim, and Jeremy turned to Bernie. “You just set me up for twelve grand,” he muttered. “Thanks a bunch.”

  “Consider it penance. Now maybe you won’t go to hell for lying.”

  “That might cover this lie. But what about all the others?”

  “You have no respect at all for these people, do you?”

  “Their games aren’t my games.”

  “So you make up games of your own.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Just don’t make me your financial planner again. I don’t know a damned thing about the stock market.”

  With that, she turned and fanned her gaze over the crowd with the same intensity she always did, never relaxing for a moment, never cracking a smile. Bernie was nothing if not predictable. She wore the same plain black dress she always did whenever she shadowed him at events like these, one that hit her legs midcalf. It was so shapeless that it was impossible to get a mental picture of what her body beneath it looked like. Dark hair that grazed her shoulders in no particular style. Not a speck of makeup. Flat, sensible shoes. No stockings, of course. He couldn’t imagine Bernie wiggling into a pair of pantyhose. Jewelry? Perish the thought. In this room full of peacocks, she looked like a plain brown starling, so bland she faded right into the wall and so unmemorable that he was surprised Mrs. Caldwell had recognized her at all.

  Sometimes he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes and looked at Bernie when she wasn’t aware he was doing it, just to see if there was an actual woman in there somewhere. Occasionally he got a glimpse of one, but it was like seeing something fleeting on the periphery of his vision that was there one second and gone the next.

  He wondered what she did with all the money she made working for him, because it sure didn’t go toward nice clothes or a decent apartment. She wore discount-store clothes and lived in a mediocre complex in east Plano full of questionable people. Not that it wasn’t safe for Bernie. Somebody would have to have a death wish to mess with her. Aside from paying somebody to hack into her bank account or personal email, Jeremy didn’t have any way of finding out much more, and hell would freeze over before she offered any personal information of her own accord.

  Her professional history, though, was a different story. He might show the world a cavalier attitude, but he never hired anyone without vetting that person from top to bottom. As bodyguards went, Bernie was the best of the best. Ex-military, she was a top-notch marksman and a martial arts expert. She had observational skills out the wazoo. And Jeremy had no doubt she could be lethal if the situation ever warranted it.

  Still, she was a woman, and every once in a while he imagined what would happen if he sent her for a day at one of those stupidly expensive spas, then took her to Neiman’s and sprang for the works. Just for fun. Just to see the result. Of course, if he ever actually suggested such a thing, he’d probably end up as one more notch on her Q-Tip.

  “I’m heading for the bar,” Jeremy said. “Can I interest you in a glass of outrageously expensive champagne? I have to recoup my twelve thousand somehow.”

  “You know I don’t drink on the job.”

  “Do you drink ever? Or smoke, or park illegally, or spit gum on the sidewalk? What do you do for fun, anyway?”

  “I am having fun,” she deadpanned. “Can’t you tell?”

  “Lighten up, Bernie. This is friendly territory. Not much chance of a kidnapping attempt around here.”

  Bernie’s laserlike eyes zeroed in on something across the room. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you know that woman?” Bernie asked. “The one by the buffet table in the silver sequined skirt up to her ass?”

  Jeremy turned to look at the woman in question, who turned out to be the same women he’d seen as he was coming into the hotel. She was indeed showing a few more inches of thigh than the average woman here tonight. Bernie didn’t seem to approve, but—funny thing—he didn’t object in the least.

  Did he know her? No. Was he going to get to know her? Absolutely. Before this evening was out, he intended to get to know her very, very well.

  “Never seen her before tonight,” he said.

  “I have. A couple of times in the past few days. She may be following you. She was outside the gates to your house two days ago, and on the street in front of Rodolpho’s yesterday when you were having lunch with Phil Brandenburg. And she’s barely taken her eyes off you tonight.”

  Jeremy smiled. “Ah, women… they just can’t seem to control themselves around me, can they?”

  “There is a chance she’s just a groupie. She probably saw the article they did on you in Dallas After Dark and she’s hoping to snag a handsome millionaire.”

  “So you think I’m handsome, do you?”

  “I’m just quoting the article.”

  “Well, if it’s in print, it must be true.”

  “Right. Dallas After Dark. Journalism at its finest.” Bernie continued to eye the girl, then shook her head grimly. “There’s something fishy about her. She doesn’t belong here. She’s dressed too slutty. And she’s standing alone.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Jeremy said. “Maybe I should check her out. Get closer to her. Infiltrate her evil plot.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m very, very serious about taking her home with me.” He glanced back at the woman. “And look at that. I don’t even have to go on the hunt. The prey is coming to me.”

  Chapter 2

  If Bernie had to endure one more word of this woman’s incessant babbling, she was going to reach down her throat and permanently remove whatever organs afforded her the ability to speak.

  Even after moving to her post along the wall, Bernie could still hear Miss Ashley Preston telling Jeremy that she’d seen him in Dallas After Dark, and she just hadn’t been able to get his photograph out of her mind. When Jeremy asked her about her family, she said she was the daughter of Mr. T. J. Preston, a man who, according to Ashley, “dabbled in oil, real estate, that kind of thing.” She went on to say that she was between careers because she hadn’t found her calling yet, though she did have her volunteer work with her sorority sisters from Southern Methodist University. To Bernie, all of that said she was either supported by daddy or had a never-ending trust fund from another rich relative.

  Mrs. Caldwell swung back by and Ashley greeted her by name, reminding her that they’d met briefly at the Faces of Hunger benefit at the Adolphus Hotel three months before. Bernie waited for Mrs. Caldwell’s reaction, which included a short but definite lapse of memory. Within a second or two, though, she greeted Ashley as if they were old friends. Unfortunately, Bernie couldn’t tell if Mrs. Caldwell had finally remembered Ashley, or whether it was merely a social cover-up because she thought she was supposed to.

  If it was the former, all was well. If it was the latter, Bernie could be dealing with somebody who’d done her homework for the event to ensure she wasn’t found out for the impostor she was. Unfortunately, a possible memory lapse on Mrs. Caldwell’s part wasn’t enough to start any whistle blowing.

  As Ashley started on her second glass of wine, the hair twirling began, and before long she was practically shoving her breasts right into Jeremy’s chest. Bernie sighed, wishing to God he would just go ahead and make his move and get all this over with.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait much longer.

  Jeremy leaned in to talk quietly to Ashley, who leaned away with a raised eyebrow and a seductive smile. “Now, Jeremy. Just what kind of girl do you think I am?”

  “One who loves fine wine,” Jeremy said, nodding down at her glass, “and rich men.”

  Ashley laughed in that way that only beautiful blond women could, with a toss of her head and music in her voice. “You already know me so well,” she said slyly. “I do believe we’re a match made in heaven.”

  A few minutes later, Jeremy made nice with Mrs. Caldwell, thanking her for the evening and assuring her that his check would be forthcoming. Then he and the blond deposited their wine glasses on the nearest bar and headed for the hotel lobby. Bernie called Carlos, and by the time they reached the circular drive in front of the hotel, the limo was pulling to the curb.

  Ashley glanced back at Bernie, her sunny disposition growing a little cloudy. She leaned in and whispered to Jeremy, but Bernie heard her loud and clear. “Your bodyguard isn’t hanging around all night, is she? To tell you the truth, she kinda scares me.”

  Jeremy whispered back, “To tell you the truth, she kinda scares me, too.”

  “Then you’ll send her away?”

  “As soon as we get to my fortress.”

  Carlos got out and opened the door, escorting Ashley inside. Bernie started to get into the passenger side of the front seat, when all at once something dawned on her.

  “Bridges,” she said quietly.

  One foot in the limo, Jeremy stopped and turned back. “What?”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Bernie stepped away from the car. Jeremy reluctantly followed.

  “Did you tell that blond I was your bodyguard?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “She knew. She asked you if your bodyguard was going to hang around all night. How did she know who I was if you never told her?”

  “Come on, Bernie. It isn’t that hard to deduce.”

  “I’m a woman. Most people don’t.”

  “Maybe she’s smarter than she looks.”

  “Maybe she’s more of a threat than she looks. Do you remember how she greeted Mrs. Caldwell by name, but Mrs. Caldwell didn’t seem to remember her?”

  “Mrs. Caldwell is pushing eighty. Do you have more than that?”

  Bernie pursed her lips, wishing she did have more. But she had to tell the truth. “No. Nothing specific. I’ve just had a bad feeling about her from the beginning.”

  “And I’ve had a good feeling. We’re going with mine.”

  He turned around and got into the limo. Bernie wished she could take him by the lapels of his thousand-dollar tux and shake some sense into him. Nothing was more intolerable to her than his putting his sexual conquests above her recommendations about his personal safety. Nothing. She hadn’t gotten to be the best at her profession by ignoring her gut instincts, and the people she worked for hadn’t stayed alive by ignoring them, either.

  Bernie got into the car, and as Carlos pulled away from the curb, Ashley was giggling in the backseat. Bernie could only imagine where Jeremy’s hands already were, but she had no intention of turning around to find out for sure. Carlos let out a soft whistle and whispered, “Wow. She’s a hot one.”

  “Knock it off. You’re old enough to be her father.”

  “Which does not make her any less hot.”

  Bernie just rolled her eyes and stared out the passenger window. Someday soon, she told herself, I’m outta here.

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Jeremy’s estate. Carlos punched a code into the box by the front gates, and they swung open to allow them entry. He drove down the long, winding driveway. On either side, petunias and coleus overflowed their brick-lined beds, shaded by precisely spaced live oak trees that were tall and broad enough that, in a few years, they’d form a canopy over the driveway. With luck, Bernie would be long gone before that ever happened.

  Carlos pulled the limo beneath the portico on the west side of the house. He got out to open the door for Jeremy and Ashley. Ashley emerged, still giggling in that grating way that made Bernie wish she were stone cold deaf. Jeremy told Carlos that he was in for the night, which was his signal to garage the limo and head home. Then Jeremy and Ashley disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind them without so much as a backward glance.

  To hell with you, Bernie thought. I hope she blows your head off.

  Carlos pulled the limo into the garage. He and Bernie got out, and they went to their respective cars that were parked nearby.

  “Later, Bernie,” Carlos said.

  Bernie nodded. Carlos got into his car and headed back down the driveway. Bernie started her car, intending to follow him, only to have another thought occur to her.

  She grabbed her iPhone and Googled T. J. Preston, which was supposedly the blond’s father’s name. Seconds later, she came up with a dean of a college in California and a veterinarian in Cleveland as the leading results. She scrolled through that screen and two more, revealing the MySpace page of a freshman at Ohio State. A chemist in Maine. A children’s book author. Other assorted T. J. Prestons, but nobody in oil or real estate. If he was any kind of mover or shaker in the city of Dallas, his name would have popped up before now.

  The bad feeling she’d had all night suddenly grew worse.

  She thought about calling Jeremy. But would he listen? Probably not. Still, what was the downside? That she delayed his recreation for the evening?

  She hit Jeremy’s speed dial number. Six rings, no answer. But that wasn’t unusual. If Jeremy was in the company of a woman, he probably wouldn’t even look to see who was calling.

  Just then, the kitchen door opened and Jeremy’s housekeeper, Mrs. Spencer, came outside. Small, compact, and grandmotherly, she was dressed as she always was in a starched white shirt, a plaid skirt, and a pair of highly sensible shoes. She walked across the courtyard to the stairs leading to her apartment above the garage, waving to Bernie as she passed by. Bernie waved back. If Jeremy had dismissed his housekeeper, he must really be gearing up to make a night of it.

  Just go home. It’s his own damned fault if something happens.

  Bernie put her car in gear. Started to hit the gas. But for some reason, she sat there a few minutes longer, unable to put the pedal to the metal. If wasn’t as if she cared what happened to Jeremy Bridges. But she cared very much for her professional record. If something went down tonight, who would be blamed?

  Huffing with irritation, she killed the engine and got out of the car. Using her key, she went inside the house. She listened for a moment. Hearing nothing, she walked through the kitchen and into the den. When she saw what was going on, every nerve went on red alert.

  The security panel that was usually hidden in the wall beside the bar had been opened. Jeremy stood next to it. And the blond stood six feet away from Jeremy, holding a handgun pointed directly at him.

  Chapter 3

  Don’t move,” the blond said, “or he’s history.”

  “I hear you,” Bernie said.

  “I was hoping you’d just drive away.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Give me your gun.”

  “I’m not armed.”

  “Bullshit. Let’s have it.”

  Bernie paused just long enough to look at what was on the security screens. One camera was pointed to the courtyard, where Bernie’s car sat. Another screen showed a large truck making its way up the winding road toward the house. In only a few seconds, it would be there. She had to do something now.

  Slowly she reached beneath the hem of her dress to pull her Beretta out of the holster strapped on the inside of her thigh above her knee. Just as she kneeled down to slide it across the floor, she heard the truck’s engine outside. Seconds later, the muffled thud of doors slamming and boots on the ground told her that men were heading into the house, and when they got there, all hell was going to break loose.

  The kitchen door opened. The blond turned toward the noise, angling her gun away from Jeremy. Already in a crouching position, Bernie dove at the woman, grasping her around the hips. She fell backward, her hand smacking the floor and dislodging the gun from her grasp. It slid across the hardwood floor to crash into the wall. Bernie was on her feet in an instant, still holding her gun, but the men were almost there.

  “Safe room!” Bernie shouted to Jeremy. “Now!”

  Bernie shoved Jeremy in front of her as they raced to the hallway at the back of the house and into his office. She slammed the door behind them, locked it, then ran to the bookcase on the far wall. She reached beneath one of the shelves, grabbed the handle, and swung the bookcase open to reveal a silver keypad on the wall behind it. Heavy footsteps clattered down the hall.

  She spun around, double-fisting her Beretta, pointing it at the door. “Punch in the code!” she shouted at Jeremy, just as the office doorknob rattled. An instant later, somebody started kicking the door.

  Jeremy hit the last number, and the safe room door clicked. He yanked it open. Bernie turned and shoved him inside at the same time a gun went off. Glancing behind her, she saw pieces of the lock on the office door go flying, and with one more smack on the door, it swung open hard, bouncing against its hinges. As the men entered the room, Bernie pulled the door closed behind them.

  Then… silence.

  Not only were the walls concrete, reinforced with Kevlar, they were also soundproofed. Absolutely nothing got into or out of this room unless Bernie decided it would. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then went straight to a communications panel connected to a secure phone line and called 911.