Page 29 of Shopping for an Heir
Bzzz.
Text from Suzanne.
Kulli is here. Hopewell house. Weird. Might be late.
And that was it.
“Shit.” Fire poured through his veins.
Vince picked up on it immediately.
“I have to go,” he said curtly.
“Afraid you’ll lose to....” Vince’s voice dropped off. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Something. I have to go meet Suzanne.”
He sprinted, hearing Vince call out, “Be whole!”
Kulli wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt Suzanne.
He knew that.
What Gerald feared was worse.
Kulli might tell her the whole truth about why he left her.
And once again, Gerald hadn’t trusted her with the truth.
No. That wasn’t right.
Gerald didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth.
Chapter 13
The Hopewell mansion wasn’t. Suzanne had to laugh as she pulled into a rare parking spot on the Back Bay and realized she was about to go to your basic townhouse in a long row of them. Hopewell had more money than James McCormick but lived a life under the radar.
She admired that.
The artifact rested in a small case, under glass, in a room one walked into, surrounded by subdued security that Suzanne knew was high tech and designed to be inconspicuous. The relic wasn’t the only item on display, but she forced herself not to pay attention to the others.
They weren’t her focus.
Footsteps. The carpet muted them, but she heard the steady beats as they slowed. The person was clearly coming closer. Security? The person from the MFA? Prepared to turn around, she halted as the person spoke.
“Hello, Suzanne. Fancy meeting you here.”
Her shoulders hunched. She fought to lower them. When a guy like Harrison Kulli approaches you from behind, any movement, any show of emotion was a sign of weakness. Guys like him thrived on it.
On reaction.
On knowing they’d gotten to you, even in the smallest of ways.
“Harrison,” she said. Trying to play it cool, she reached for her phone, quickly typing a few words to Gerald. She hit Send and slowly put the phone back in her purse.
“Recognized me by my voice, did you?”
“No. By the faint scent of brimstone.”
He laughed through his nose, but the sound was tight. She’d gotten to him.
Good.
“I’m hardly the devil.”
“No. You’re not intelligent enough. But you’ll do as one of his minions.”
And with that, she spun around on her heel, taking great care to look down in order to make eye contact.
He was pissed. You had to have spent two years under his command to know that, though. A stranger would see a placid man, a face that gave no quarter.
Harrison Kulli was a compact man, wiry and strong, Standing at about five foot three inches, he exuded anger. It radiated out of him like musk.
That quality had been fabulous in battle, commanding troops.
In civilian life it had only one truly good purpose.
A purpose used by men in power.
Suzanne had done her research, trying to figure out who Kulli worked for. She’d failed. Whoever his client was, the cloak of anonymity was secure.
She didn’t much care. She knew what Gerald would decide. But Kulli’s presence definitely complicated the matter. Over the years, she’d come to wonder whether he’d played a role in Gerald’s leaving her. Call it a hunch. Or intuition.
Maybe just a grudge.
Because Kulli had hit on her more than once out in the desert.
Luckily, the guy took no—twice—for an answer.
Barely.
“Gerald isn’t with you?”
“I can’t speak about my client. Confidentiality.”
“Listen to you. Such a lawyer. I never pegged you for a shark.”
She studied him, not giving in. The less said, the better.
“You look the same, Harrison.” That was designed to be a blow. The guy had clearly bulked up, arms bursting out of an expensive Armani suit. He looked nothing like the rat he’d been years ago.
“The last decade’s been good to me,” he countered, making sure to flash his Rolex.
Were watches the new in-person dick pic?
Steve Raleigh. That’s who he reminded her of.
Harrison Kulli was a slimier version of Steve Raleigh.
Nothing about Kulli’s demeanor made her afraid. They were in the exhibition room with two armed guards at the entrance, dressed in plain clothes. Given the amount of objects of high value, and the rotation of estate lawyers and appraisers, heirs and household staff, she knew Kulli wouldn’t do anything to put her in harm’s way.
His very presence, though, and that question about Gerald gave her pause.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m here to meet with a representative from the Museum of Fine Arts,” she declared, making it clear this conversation was over.
“You’re looking at him.”
“You’re Randita Mugheeri?” Her glare held nothing back.
“Actually, I am. Your phone number was easy to find, if you know where to look.”
Adrenaline shot through her. She conspicuously looked at the guards. Both were the same men she’d recognized from the other day. She pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1 without pressing Send.
Always be prepared.
“You two back together again?” he asked, the casual tone jarring.
“What?”
“You and Gerald. You two back together?”
“Mr. Wright is my client,” she said frostily, starting to walk toward the door to leave. This was a set-up.
“‘Mr. Wright’? Aren’t you getting fancy, Suzanne. Most people don’t refer to their ex-fiancé like that. Then again, after what he did to you...”
All those years ago, she’d been tight-lipped. Had not said a word to anyone about how Gerald had broken up with her. Only Kari and her parents had known.
A cold flush covered her body, heart hot inside her chest.
She didn’t respond. Bait. He was baiting her.
“I can understand it, though.”
She held her breath.
“You do know why he broke it off with you, right?” His voice was like poison ivy coated in velvet.
“Mr. Wright is my client in the capacity of—”
“He never told you, did he?” Kulli inhaled slowly, the sound passing over his back teeth like a snake’s hiss.
Say nothing, she screamed inside. He’s playing a dangerous psych game.
“He stole the relic. Stole it, and brought it home when his mother was sick. Came back and was with you for just a few more months before he was discharged. Gerald was never the same. You know I counseled him?”
Suzanne fought back the snort of disbelief that rose up in her.
“He held on. The curse got to him, though.”
“Curse?” She infused as much condescension as possible into one word.
“Yeah, curse. That damned relic may be one of the oldest objects with writing on it ever found, Suz.”
Don’t call me Suz, she thought.
“He was never the same after he brought it back. And then the nightmares about you started.”
“What are you talking ab—” Damn it. He’d succeeded.
He knew it, too.
“Got your attention, didn’t it? Convince him to sell to my client and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“I can’t ethically do that and you know it.”
“You can’t ethically handle a nearly-priceless relic that doesn’t exist, Suz. Don’t take the moral high ground here.”
“We’re done, Kulli. I won’t advise my client to take action he doesn’t want to take.”
“He’d be stupid to give it all up. Just like when he gave you up. That’s what Wright does, though. He cuts and runs. Once he donates that relic, he’ll disappear again.”
Her throat seized.
Kulli knew he’d hit a nerve. “Didn’t think about that, did you? If he has a big pot of money following him around, he can’t run off. But if he donates, he leaves. Just like he left you ten years ago.”
“Shut up.”
“Not so much power now, huh, Suzanne? You always were easy to break. Wright, too. It’s not too late, though. My client wants that relic. Wants it bad. He’ll go to $60 million.”
“I’ll advise Mr. Wright.”
“Why are you so loyal to him?”
“He is my client,” she persisted.
“After what he wanted to do to you?”
Years of law school and legal work had attuned her to the subtleties of language.
“Wanted to do to me?”
Kulli’s eyes went hooded, mouth curling in contempt. “I was his CO. He spilled his guts one night. I know why he needed to leave. And why he broke it off with you.”
“I know that, too. PTSD. It happens to the best of men and women who serve in combat.”
“Worst, too,” Kulli said sourly.
“You don’t need to illuminate me, Harrison. Whatever you think you’re accomplishing with this conversation, you’re not—”
Commotion in the outer hall made her turn sharply, head ringing with Kulli’s words and the not-so-distant sound of men arguing.
And then Gerald rushed into the room, eyes wild, body primed to fight.
Wearing a gun.
“Gerald couldn’t stop thinking about killing you, Suzanne,” Kulli said, his voice soft and compassionate, but his eyes alight with an evil joy at delivering the shocking emotional blow to her. He completely ignored Gerald, but she realized with dawning disgust that Gerald was his real audience. “That’s why he left. He was being driven crazy by thoughts of killing you.”
