A Rare Chance Read online

  “The roof,” Gabriella said. She’d filled three wineglasses with a chardonnay.

  “You’ve got a rooftop deck?”

  She nodded.

  “Wonderful! Mind if I take a look?”

  Scag had hobbled to the kitchen doorway, where he leaned heavily on his cane. “What else you got up there?”

  Gabriella eyed him. He was suspicious. During their two years together, she’d reread all of Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe novels. She’d loved the idea of his rooftop greenhouse, one far more elaborate than her own. “We should eat. The soup’s hot.”

  But her father wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “You’ve got orchids up there, don’t you, kid?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, Scag, I’ve got orchids.”

  Pete Darrow walked out onto the deck overlooking the water at Joshua Reading’s sprawling house on the North Shore. Built at the very tip of Reading Point and surrounded by the Atlantic on three sides, the house was all weathered shingles and glass, designed to look as if it had sprung naturally from the landscape of rocks, pines, birches, wild roses. Darrow had moved into an apartment above the detached garage. Even it was bigger, fancier than anything he could have afforded as a detective.

  “Cool night,” he said.

  Joshua Reading glanced back at him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Darrow shrugged. Joshua prided himself on loving the elements: the raw wind off the water, the crashing surf, the taste of salt in the air. A man’s man. He had his own yacht, kayaks, a speedboat. He liked to run on the rocks. He could identify every goddamned bird, plant, fish, and crustacean on the place. To Darrow, a snail was a snail. Not to Joshua Reading. He was a good-looking bastard, almost as tall as Darrow, dark, fit. Gray eyes with flecks of blue. Angular features just sharp enough to give his face character, keep him from being cover-model material, too perfect.

  “Gabriella Starr saw you,” he said.

  Darrow zipped his windbreaker against the stiff breeze off the water. “I know.”

  “She was asking questions this afternoon. She tried to be subtle. She knows hiring you was my idea.”

  “Good. Maybe she’ll be rattled into doing something stupid, show her hand.”

  Joshua gave him a cold look. “Don’t underestimate her. I did, and now she has my brother’s confidence, at my expense.”

  The venom was unmistakable. Joshua Reading despised Gabriella Starr, and he feared her. His strategy toward her was convoluted and passive-aggressive. Darrow was to follow her, check her out, find something—anything—on her that Joshua could use to undermine her growing influence over his older brother. Set her up for a fall. Drive her over the edge. He didn’t care. It was, Darrow had come to realize, vintage Joshua Reading. Why not attack her head-on? Why not go to big brother with his complaints? Why not redouble his own efforts to prove his value to TJR Associates? Why not just relax and spend his money? Nope. Not Joshua. Gabriella Starr bugged him. So he had to do something about her.

  It wasn’t how Pete Darrow liked to operate. He had a rotten temper and he sometimes made bad choices, but he tended to be up front with people on where they stood with him.

  He was willing to bet Gabriella Starr didn’t have a clue that Joshua Reading hated her guts.

  Darrow, however, was more interested in Joshua’s gun habit. He’d follow Gabriella Starr, jerk her chain, see what happened. Keep the boss happy. Joshua thought he’d lured a shady cop away from a job he hated for twice the money. He thought he could control Darrow. Well, fine. The arrogant bastard could think what he wanted, and Darrow would pretend to do his dirty work.

  Meanwhile, he’d be hunting Joshua’s weapons stash. He’d heard the rumors about stolen military weapons, illegal automatic weapons, even grenade-launchers. He needed proof. He needed the weapons themselves. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he found them. All his life he’d played by the rules. He worked hard, he was tough, he was smart. What had it gotten him?

  He shook off the thought. First he had to find the stash. Then he’d do what he had to do.

  He moved in close to Joshua, close enough to make the bastard uncomfortable. He’d been born well off. He’d sucked off his brother’s brains and gotten richer. But that wasn’t good enough. For a guy like Joshua Reading, nothing ever would be. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

  “I make it a point,” Darrow said in a low voice, “never to underestimate anyone.”

  Cam cut up strawberries on his cornflakes while his coffee brewed. Sun angled in through the windows of his basement apartment. Because of the building’s high first floor, it wasn’t a dungeon. It had one big open room with a breakfast bar separating the small kitchen and living area, plus a bedroom with lots of built-in shelves, and a bathroom in need of paint.

  He owned the building. It was a Federal period townhouse on the flats of Beacon Hill. He rented out the upper floors to a psychologist, a Boston University administrator, and a couple who owned an antiques shop on Charles, Beacon Hill’s main commercial street. Sometimes he thought about taking over the whole house. Then he wondered what he’d do with all that space.

  He ate his cereal standing up, leaning against the counter. He had no idea what he would do today. Pick up Pete’s trail again? Check out the Reading brothers and TJR Associates? Do some digging into Joshua Reading’s possible gun habit? If he could root out the source of the rumors, maybe he could figure out if they had merit.

  Then again, he could start with Gabriella Starr.

  He’d awakened thinking of her dark eyes. Not a good sign. They’d sparkled with a mix of excitement and fear when she’d charged after Pete Darrow, a stranger. She could have gotten herself into a hell of a mess and she knew it. Even sitting down and talking to him, sharing her chocolate chip cookies, had been a risk. She had no more idea about either him or Darrow than she did the man in the moon.

  Maybe he should follow Gabriella Starr instead of Pete Darrow.

  Cam slammed down his cereal bowl. “Maybe you should forget this mess and paint the damned bathroom.”

  He got dressed and went out. Spring had finally arrived in Boston, with not even a hint of winter in the breeze off the Charles River. He breathed deeply. But it didn’t work. Gabriella Starr’s dark eyes were still there, filled with conflicting emotions that both intrigued and worried him. Never mind the brass-tacks suit, she was a woman who could easily get in over her head with a guy like Pete Darrow.

  But she wouldn’t want to admit it. Cam would bet his Red Sox season tickets on that one. Gabriella Starr wouldn’t want to need help. She would want to keep right on thinking she could take on the whole world on her own terms.

  Cam understood. He used to think the same way. Only he’d learned. Sometimes you got in over your head. Sometimes you needed help. Sometimes the world got you by the short hairs and all you could do was stick to your principles.

  He started up the brick sidewalk toward Charles Street, still with no clear plan. But more and more he was thinking it might be a wise idea to find out a little more about one dark-eyed, dark-haired Gabriella Starr.

  For the first time in her year at TJR Associates, Gabriella didn’t feel comfortable in her third-floor office. Joshua and Titus Reading had selected a nineteenth-century brick waterfront building for their offices, one they had saved from the wrecking crane. Just five stories tall, it had served originally as headquarters to an import-export firm that sent clipper ships out around Cape Horn and made a lot of Boston Brahmins rich. Gabriella’s office had a view out across Boston Harbor, sparkling in the spring sun. The furnishings were all period pieces, tasteful and soothing, with an antique Persian carpet in deep shades of green. She had added a botanical print of pink lady slippers for her wall and always kept a vase of fresh orchids on her desk.

  She sighed, gazing at today’s purple miltonias. Scag had picked them out. He’d shown up at her apartment at seven o’clock to work in her rooftop greenhouse. The condition of her orchids, he said, had given him nightmares. She’d
offered to pay him. He’d only glared at her.

  Well, she’d pay him anyway. She’d never known Tony Scagliotti to turn down hard cash.

  “Gabriella? Are you listening?”

  She blinked, snapping out of her daze. Titus Reading had stopped in her office to talk to her about a project in a historic riverfront building in Concord they were considering, but she couldn’t keep her mind on what he was saying. She manufactured a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I must be on slow-start this morning.”

  Titus acknowledged her apology with a slight nod. He was as tall as his younger brother, but broader through the shoulders, darker, with little of Joshua’s easy charm and amiability. There was a twelve-year difference in their ages. At forty-six, Titus was the father of two teenagers, a smart and decent man who’d overlooked Gabriella’s two-year hiatus with her notorious father.

  She remembered sitting in his office, still pale from her ordeal in a Peruvian prison. She and Scag had been arrested and jailed for trespassing, a situation he had only made worse by arguing with the landowner and lecturing the authorities on international law protecting rare and endangered orchids. Titus had chosen to view her adventures with her father as an asset rather than a career liability. He’d been willing to consider her education, her pre—Scag experience, her determination to apply her energy and skills to a stable career. She’d gotten the lure of her father’s chaotic life out of her system and wouldn’t likely succumb to it again. As a result, she knew more about herself than did most thirty-one-year-olds.

  And, of course, she’d promised him she was finished with Tony Scagliotti. The life he led would kill him, probably sooner rather than later. She wasn’t going to help, and she wasn’t going to be around for the end. She’d had enough.

  Only now he was back in Boston, and Titus Reading would want to know. He deserved to know. Scag was a Boston native, born and raised in the North End. His expertise in orchids was largely self-taught, his fame more the result of his exploits and passion for orchids than his occasional scholarly publication. The Boston media always took an interest in his goings-on. That he was in town, injured, and rescuing his estranged daughter’s rooftop orchids would drive at least a few reporters to her apartment. It wasn’t the sort of publicity Titus Reading would welcome for TJR Associates. But right now, Gabriella thought, Scag was keeping a low profile. Only she and Lizzie Fairfax knew he was in town. He could easily decide he was mended and sneak back out again in a week or two, with no one the wiser. Why worry Titus if there was no need?

  He got to his feet. He was conservatively dressed in a light gray suit, every inch the Boston executive. “I’ll come back after you’ve had lunch.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You haven’t been buying too many orchids lately, have you? That’s not what’s distracting you?”

  She smiled. “No, I’ve been very restrained.”

  “I wonder what Tony Scagliotti’s daughter considers ‘restrained’ when it comes to orchids.”

  His tone was teasing, not threatened, because he was talking about Scag in the abstract. He didn’t have to deal with the real risk of an eccentric orchid expert bursting upon the scene and wreaking havoc, as only Tony Scagliotti could, with TJR Associates’ carefully managed, restrained, upscale image.

  Just as well to spare him, Gabriella decided.

  Not long after he left, Lizzie Fairfax appeared in her doorway, dressed in clingy jeans, cowboy boots, and a white shirt, her honey hair pulled back. “There you are! I took a wrong turn at the top of the stairs. Nice office.” Her well-trained artistic eye surveyed her surroundings. “Even Scag would be impressed.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “Well, I was just at a loose end and thought I’d stop by and see if I could spirit you off to lunch. Sorry I didn’t call first. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Gabriella rose, aware of a slight uneasiness. It was common knowledge that Lizzie Fairfax was Tony Scagliotti’s prime benefactor. Would her presence alert Titus or even Joshua that something was up regarding Gabriella’s father? Should she just go ahead and tell them he was in town?

  But she remembered yesterday at Fanueil Hall Marketplace. Until she knew why Pete Darrow was following her, perhaps she should keep her cards close to her chest and her mouth shut.

  “Lunch sounds great,” she said.

  Lizzie frowned. “You’re sure? Gabriella, if I’m intruding—”

  “You’re not. Really.” She smiled, knowing it was true. “I’m glad you came by. It’s been too long, Lizzie. Way too long. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Gabriella. I—I really do understand why you did what you did. Maybe I haven’t done Scag any favors, but I just couldn’t…” She shrugged, not completing her sentence. “I guess I just did what I had to do too.”

  Gabriella walked around her desk to her friend. Her best friend. They’d been friends since they were eight, she and Lizzie Fairfax. Maybe their year apart had done them both good. “They’ve turned the building where Scag grew up into a restaurant. They make their own pasta. We can go there for lunch and catch up. I have a two o’clock meeting. So long as I’m back by then, we’ll be fine.”

  But before they could get out of the building, Joshua Reading caught up with them at the top of the stairs. “Gabriella—oh, sorry.” He stopped short, glancing at Lizzie. “I thought you were someone with the company.”

  “This is Lizzie Fairfax,” Gabriella said, as graciously as she could manage. “An old friend of mine. She’s visiting from Miami. Lizzie, this is Joshua Reading.”

  Lizzie turned on her Beacon Hill manners. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Reading.” She took Joshua’s extended hand briefly. “I’ve been admiring the building. It’s really very impressive. I’d heard TJR Associates does marvelous work.”

  “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your stay in Boston.” He glanced at Gabriella. “I won’t keep you from your reunion. I just wanted to let you know that Titus and I are hosting an impromptu dinner this evening for a group of architects visiting from Hong Kong. It’ll be at my place up on the North Shore. We hope you can join us.” Charming as ever, he turned back to Lizzie. “We’d love to invite you as well, Ms. Fairfax.”

  “I’d be delighted to come. Thank you.”

  Gabriella kept her expression neutral. She could see that Lizzie was smitten, unable to think through the potential awkwardness of her turning up for a dinner hosted by Gabriella’s employers.

  Joshua smiled. “Terrific. I’ll see you both this evening then.”

  The possible consequences of what she’d done didn’t hit Lizzie until she and Gabriella were out on the street. “Good heavens, I never even thought—” She turned a panicked look on Gabriella. “He just doesn’t look like a boss. I can always not go.”

  “No, forget it,” Gabriella said, laughing, glad that Lizzie Fairfax was back in her life. “We’ll have a great time.”

  Chapter

  Three

  When Cam Yeager crossed Marlborough Street to greet her, Gabriella tried to tell herself she shouldn’t be surprised. He was wearing wrinkled gray canvas pants and a Red Sox sweatshirt, and he needed a shave. Presumably he would either grow a beard or shave regularly when he started at the district attorney’s office.

  “You look as if you’ve spent the day slaying financial dragons,” he said, trotting up to her.

  She didn’t know if he was responding to her cream raw silk suit or her expression. She’d been distracted while walking up Marlborough, thinking she might yet make it through the day without seeing hide nor hair of either him or Pete Darrow.

  “I suppose this isn’t a coincidence,” she said.

  “Nope. Your number’s listed in the phone book under ‘Starr, Gabriella.’ Imagine that.” He gave her a quick, efficient once-over. “I like the shoes.”

  She had put on her running shoes to walk from TJR Associates. She slung her leather tote bag down off her shoulder and
set it on the sidewalk. “If you’re here to find out if Pete Darrow followed me today, I can tell you he didn’t.”

  Yeager’s sea-blue eyes narrowed, turning serious. “Yes he did. He followed you and the blonde to lunch. A friend of yours?”

  Gabriella took a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm. “Yes.”

  “He interrupted his little vigil long enough to threaten to beat the hell out of me. I was never any good at tailing people, and Pete’s got this sixth sense about someone watching him. You know he’s moved up to Joshua Reading’s place on the North Shore? He might as well be a live-in bodyguard. I still don’t like it.”

  “That’s not my problem. Look—”

  “You ever go up there?”

  “On occasion. I am tonight, for a business dinner. Mr. Yeager—Cam…” She sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to trust you; it’s that I don’t dare to. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to get upstairs.”

  He leaned on the wrought-iron railing of her front stoop, sexy, earthy. The attraction she felt only made dealing with him that much more unsettling. He studied her. She tried not to squirm under his practiced scrutiny.

  “Maybe I could tag along with you tonight,” he said.

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  He shrugged. “It was just an idea. You want to know what Pete’s up to, and so do I. This is one way of finding out. Might work, might not. I think it’s worth a try.”

  “No. If I were caught and had to explain you…” She shook her head. She didn’t know what would happen if she had to explain Cam Yeager to Joshua, Titus, Pete Darrow himself. She wasn’t sure she could explain him. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re not coming with me.”

  “Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t want me tagging along if I were in your position. You talk to your bosses about Darrow?”

  “Not really.”

  “You don’t want them to know you know he’s following you?”

  “It’s not that. I’m just trying not to do anything precipitous.” Especially, she thought, with her father in town.