Her Man Friday(70)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Schuyler nodded, then took a slow, thoughtful sip of his cognac. Then, after he had swallowed it, he thought some more. Finally, he gazed down at her and said, "Well, Lily. Darling. I guess you’re right. I guess you and I are just going to have to explain things to dear Leonard Freiberger, aren’t we? And we’re going to have to hope like hell that he understands."

Leo was still feeling a little numb as he lay awake in bed that night perusing the file on the Rigby Gang that Eddie had left with him the day before. The more he read, the more he berated himself for his own stupidity. Because considering her background, then right from the start, he should have been able to ID Lily as the likeliest suspect in the theft of the missing Kimball millions. If he’d just been thinking with his brain instead of his—

He growled under his breath and enjoyed another long, cool slug of Anchor Steam. If he’d just seen past what she appeared to be to find out who she really was, then none of this would have happened. He would have fingered her as the thief right off, would have collected all kinds of accolades from Kimball’s board of directors—probably some he’d never heard before from Thesaurus Man—and by now he would have moved on to the next client. He would be feeling proud of another job well done, satisfied that another crook was behind bars, convinced that he had done the right thing.

Instead of feeling sick inside every time he thought about Lily and how he had fallen for her so completely, so profoundly.

So stupidly.

He’d spent the better part of the evening going over the rest of the files from her laptop that he’d duped onto diskette. And what he’d found had only reinforced everything he’d already known to be true. Lily was guilty of stealing tens of millions of dollars from her employer over the years and putting it into private accounts all over the world. He just wished he knew what had happened to all the funds once she’d removed them again. Had she made investments? Had she consolidated the cash in one big lump in Switzerland? Had she bought real estate? Jewelry? Bonds?

That was the one thing he continued to have trouble understanding. Why she was still at it—she’d made deposits into some of those accounts as recently as last month. She’d filtered off enough money by now to live in incredible luxury for the rest of her life. So why hadn’t she gotten out while the getting was good and retired with her ill-gotten gains? Was she so greedy that even scores of millions of dollars weren’t enough to satisfy her? Had she been trying to go for a cool billion?

And, dammit, how could he have been so wrong about her?

Because Leo did have good instincts, by God. Yet not one of them had kicked in to warn him to be careful where Lily Rigby was concerned. Oh, there had been moments there in the beginning, when he’d first come to Ashling, when he’d suspected her of being up to something, of hiding something. But he’d thought that something had to do with fulfilling the billionaire’s needs in an area other than social secretary. He’d certainly never considered her a candidate for the role of corporate thief. Even now, after all he’d discovered about her, the thought of Lily committing acts of theft and betrayal just didn’t sit right with Leo at all.

But there was nothing else that would explain why she had been playing fast and loose with Kimball’s billions for years. There was nothing else that would explain why she had taken money—and she clearly had taken the money—and hidden it in personal accounts. There was nothing else that would explain why she had lied and misrepresented herself to Leo.

Nothing.

Another long, thoughtful pull of beer left the bottle empty, and he was rising to retrieve a second from the fridge when the telephone on his night stand rang shrilly to stop him. Who the hell would be calling him at two A.M.? he wondered. Either it was another drunk who’d misdialed Yellow Cab—whose telephone number was only one different from Leo’s—or else it was something important. In either event, he really didn’t want to hear about it.

In spite of that, he snatched the receiver from its cradle and snarled, "What is it?"

There was a slight hesitation on the other end, followed by a woman’s voice asking tentatively, "Leo?"

"Lily?"

He cursed himself for the wistfulness he heard in his own voice, then gave himself a mental smack for the curl of heat that unwound in his belly. Gripping the receiver brutally, he added, "What do you want?"

There was another slight hesitation on the other end of the line, then she told him, "I need your help."

He couldn’t quite halt the derisive chuckle that escaped him. "Again? Didn’t you already try this once? Oh, wait," he went on before she had a chance to answer. "No, that was a favor you wanted earlier, wasn’t it? Now you want help. Well, gee, isn’t this just the biggest surprise I’ve ever had in my life."

Her voice was tinted with urgency and impatience when she said, "Just shut up and listen. The help I need is for Chloe, Leo, not me. Chloe’s in trouble, and you’re closer to where she is than I am, and I need for you to go get her. Please."

"Chloe?" he asked, his sarcasm dying a quick death, his concern rousing completely to take its place. "What’s happened? What’s wrong?"

"She just called here. To make a long story short, she’s in a bar in downtown Philly with a man who’s drunk and mean, and who’s decided he’s going to take her home with him tonight and make her his own. Am I making myself clear?"

"Shit," he hissed.

"I couldn’t have put it better myself," she said succinctly. "She was with her friend Lauren, and the two of them evidently bit off more than they could chew, and now Lauren’s abandoned Chloe, and she’s all alone with this guy. She got away from him long enough to use the phone in the bathroom, but she doesn’t think she can stall him much longer. Schuyler’s gone out again somewhere, and I don’t know where he is. I’ve tried his cell number, but he’s not answering it. And even this time of night, it’s going to take me a half hour to get into town. You could be at this place—"

"In fifteen minutes," he told her. "What’s the name of the bar?"

"Smoky Joe’s. It’s on—"

"Oh, swell," he growled, interrupting.

"Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah, unfortunately I do. Look, a friend of mine lives a block away from the place. I’ll call him before I go, and if he’s home, he can run down and keep an eye on things until I get there. I’ll be there myself in fifteen minutes," he repeated. "And don’t worry. I’ll make sure Chloe stays safe until you arrive."

"Okay. Thanks, Leo. I owe you."

You’re damned right you do, he thought. And not just for this, either.