Gloria followed his gaze and smiled widely at me.

  “Beck! It’s delightful to see you.” She wrapped me in a hug and stood back, surveying me. “You look amazing. That dress! Turn around and let me see you.”

  She spoke rapid-fire and I humored her, turning in a circle.

  “Exquisite! Who are you wearing?”

  “Her name is Rhiannon Larson. She’s new to me, but I couldn’t say no to this dress.” I smoothed my hand over the fabric.

  “Nor should you,” Gloria said. “I’ll want her contact information. And who is your charming companion?” She cast an admiring look over Luke, who’d dressed like a cruise ship captain in white slacks and a navy jacket.

  Everything fit him like it was made for him, which of course it was. He was the picture of effortless chic, like he’d thrown on whatever was at hand and managed to look like he’d spent hours getting dressed. I was sure Flannery had spent far longer on his preparations.

  “This is Luke Conley. Luke, this is Gloria Machado.”

  He took Gloria’s proffered hand and held it between his, looking at her like she was the only woman on the planet. “Delighted, Gloria. I couldn’t be more pleased to meet you.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at the subtle emphasis on the last word, but he had his part down and played it to the hilt. Gloria smiled, delighted.

  “Hello and welcome,” Flannery said, chiseling into the conversation with an ingratiating smile. He held his hand out to Luke. “I’m Carson Flannery. Glad you could make it. Thanks for coming.”

  Luke glanced at the other man’s hand, his brows arching, and slowly let go of Gloria. He hesitated another moment before taking Flannery’s hand. That momentary pause and the disdain of his eyebrows made Flannery’s lips tighten, and me marvel at Luke’s skill in playing the social game.

  “Of course. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Luke replied, giving a short, fast shake before pulling away. “This is Beck Wyatt.”

  He didn’t explain who I was, but Gloria’s interaction with me said I was Someone. As in, I might have money, connections, or the ability to find him donors.

  His smile turned sickly sweet, and he took my hand, holding it for too long, like a man who was used to having women fall into his bed. His gaze swept over me and back up, no doubt meaning to be complementary and totally making me want to throw up on his shoes.

  “I’m pleased you could come to my little gathering. I’d love to show you around, if I may.”

  I restrained myself from telling him to fuck off. The man was sure he was handsome and charming and everything a woman could want. His confidence bordered on arrogance. On Luke, that attitude was somehow charming. Flannery was just repulsive. I wouldn’t have minded popping his ego, but I was on a mission and I couldn’t indulge my irritation. I smiled as if I was falling for his charm.

  “That would be lovely. Gloria, would you like to join us?”

  The other woman fluttered her fingers dismissively. “No, no. You go ahead. I want to go say hello to some friends.”

  Luke put a possessive hand on my back. “I guess it’s just us, then.”

  He smiled and winked at me, the humor not reaching his eyes. He didn’t like Flannery any more than I did. The man was slimy and smarmy. Exactly the sort of person nobody needed in public service.

  It was clear he had a singular agenda, talking about what he’d like to accomplish for the state and how humble he was and eager to earn our support. I mostly tuned him out, letting Luke suffer Flannery’s tedious overtures.

  “Are you married, Mr. Flannery?” I asked suddenly, when his talk about the importance of family and marriage percolated through my disinterest.

  He gave an artfully abashed look. “I’m afraid I haven’t been lucky in love.”

  No doubt he figured that I’d take that as an answer. No such luck.

  I smiled blandly. “I’m sorry for being obtuse, but does that mean you are married? Or maybe divorced?”

  He hesitated, clearly trying to sort out the answer. I bumbled on.

  “Marriage is so important for the people who are in office, don’t you think? Otherwise how will they know what ordinary people go through, especially raising children? I don’t think I could support someone who hadn’t experienced what so many of his constituents go through every day. ” I looked at Luke. “Don’t you think so, Baby?”

  The last was way over the top and both Luke and I knew it. I could see him trying to fight off laughter. I blinked my eyelashes. He slipped his arm around my back and pulled me close, his hand caressing my hip.

  “Absolutely, Sweetheart,” he said, dropping a kiss on my cheek before looking back at Flannery. “I would have guessed you’re married, since you bought this place. It’s a perfect family home.”

  “I’m afraid my situation is a little complicated,” Flannery said. “My wife and I have been estranged, but we’ve been working with a counselor and I think we’ll be back together very soon. She’s got some...problems...you see, and she didn’t want to hurt my career, so she left. I’m doing all I can to convince her to come home. I love her so much.”

  He actually managed to look teary at that confession. He cleared his throat and offered an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind if I excuse myself. I need to speak to my other guests.”

  “Of course,” Luke said. “Maybe we can talk soon about your thoughts on Proposition ninety-eight.”

  Relief swept Flannery’s face. “I would be happy to. Maybe we can set up a meeting next week?”

  “I’ll have to check my calendar, but I’m sure I could figure something out,” Luke said.

  “My secretary will call you. Please excuse me.”

  We watched Flannery walk away. His phone rang and he answered. A moment later he hung up and hurried in the direction of the house.

  “He hopes he’ll be back together with his wife soon? Does that mean he and Lydia aren’t divorced yet?” I asked.

  “Sounds like it, and it sounds like he’s got a story ready for the press when he forces her back home.”

  “Why wouldn’t he just let her go? Pay her off, so she doesn’t sabotage his career? He can’t possibly love her, so why is he so determined to pull her back?”

  “Some men can’t stand getting left behind. Especially when they think they own their spouse,” Luke said. “She’s property, and property does what it’s told. He can’t stand the idea that she’d leave him and he couldn’t stop her. He needs to control her and force her to do whatever he says. He wants to see her cave in to him every day in every way. If he was abusive before—and it’s a safe bet he was—it’ll only get worse if he gets her back. He’ll tell her she can leave any time, but she’ll know she can’t. He’ll have shown her he can do anything he wants to her, and no one will stop him. If I had to guess, I’d say he’ll get her to do something illegal or embarrassing and blackmail her with it for the rest of her life.”

  I could imagine what he might make her do, and I probably wasn’t nearly depraved enough to come up with all the possibilities Flannery would.

  “What are you going to do to him?” Luke asked. “Or did you already do it?”

  I’d meant to curse him as soon as I saw him, but I’d let myself get distracted. I needed to touch him, but I didn’t want to take the time to corner him.

  “Let’s go help look for Lydia and the cats,” I said, turning toward the house.

  The place was bigger than Luke’s, and instead of the mid-century modern look of Frank Lloyd Wright, it was all French chateau. Where Luke’s house tried to be one with the landscape, Flannery’s stood out like it wanted to make a statement. It was made of stone and brick with towers and a mansard roof. Behind were several large outbuildings that had been painted to fade into the landscape. Garages, I decided, and maybe a barn for various landscaping and maintenance machines and tools.

  It had a large pool with brilliant flowers and greenery. It was an emerald oasis in a dry summer landscape. Objectively, it was gorgeous and everything a narcissist would want in a house. The design looked enough like Aunty Mommy’s estate that I had to wonder if they’d been designed by the same architect. Personally I preferred Luke’s place. As big as it was, it still felt like a home. This place felt like a museum.

  My phone buzzed and I checked it. “Stacey’s here.”

  “I’ll go get her.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  He stopped. “What?”

  “She says Mikey’s here, too. I’d better come with you.”

  He put a hand on my arm. “I’ll handle it. Someone has to find Lydia. You’re our secret weapon. You don’t have time to get derailed. Plus Lorraine and Jen may need backup. Go do your thing and don’t worry about Stacey. I’ve got her.”

  I didn’t like it, but he was right. I nodded reluctantly. “Do me a favor though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t let her near Flannery.”

  He gave me a no, duh, look. “I’m not an idiot.” He started to walk away.

  “One more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Lindsey told me something bad is coming for me. She didn’t say what, when, or how, but there’s not a lot worse that could happen than Jen, Lorraine, or Stacey getting hurt. Keep your eyes peeled. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  His expression turned sober. “I won’t. Same to you.”

  “If anybody tries anything, this place is going up like Chernobyl. Count on it.”

  He stared. “You can do that?” Then, “that’s...not comforting.”

  “I’m not interested in your comfort, but I can promise one thing.”

  Warily, “what?”

  “If someone comes after me or mine, they’re going to become an object lesson.”

  “After that Chernobyl comment, I’m not sure I want to know what that means.”

  I smiled a hyena smile. “Trust me, you don’t.”

  Chapter Nine

  After Luke departed, I headed into the house. It was crowded, people and employees bustling in and out. A ballroom that opened up on a garden patio contained tables and a couple of buffet lines. A jazz quartet played in the courtyard.

  I peeked inside, then moved on, checking every door I could. No signs of the cats or Lydia. Would Flannery be so bold as to bring her here during his party? Stupid question. Of course he would. The man was so full of himself he probably couldn’t imagine failing.

  “Pride goeth before the fall,” I murmured, determined that Flannery would fall. Hopefully I’d be the one shoving him off the not proverbial cliff.

  Since he was just the kind of narcissistic asshole who would kidnap or blackmail his ex-wife into returning home, what would he do with her? I realized it depended on whether or not one of his goons had forced her, or if Flannery had managed to coerce her into returning.

  If I had to guess, and I did, I’d guess the latter. The asshat was the type to enjoy forcing people to do what he wanted. He wanted to pull the strings and watch them dance, enjoying the fact that they chose to put themselves in his power. I snorted. Chose. Some choice. Hey Lydia, I’ll slowly cut apart your cats until they die and make you watch, or you can come back and live in luxury and be my obedient political wife.

  I’d bet a blowjob that the conversation had gone pretty much just like that. Which meant that Lydia would have entered the house of her own free will, and wouldn’t need to be locked up or guarded.

  Realization struck me. She’d be in the owner’s suite. Flannery meant for her to go back to being his wife, and that would include sex. He’d also want to make sure she was constantly reminded of what would happen if she failed to perform. He’d like watching her squirm, watching her fear and submission. Fucker.

  His predictability was good for me, however, since that meant he’d have to have the cats nearby. Lydia wouldn’t leave without them, and I wasn’t about to leave them in Flannery’s hands.

  A memory of Ajax and the horrific shape he was in when I rescued him flashed through my mind and it occurred to me to wonder what had convinced Lydia to come back now. A chill ran through me. What had Flannery done?

  I should have gone looking for Lorraine and Jen, or at least texted them, but the memory of Ajax spurred me to action. It didn’t make sense. Whatever Flannery had done to the cats was over and done and I could do nothing, but I was running on instinct and emotion.

  The house was huge, but the owner’s suite wouldn’t be on the first floor, and probably not the second. Those would likely be reserved for guests. The best views were on the third floor, which was probably the family floor. The fourth was probably storage spaces, offices, art studios, or something along those lines. Private places for the family where guests weren’t allowed.

  Security guarded the two elevators at either end of the house. I expected there was another freight elevator somewhere, but it was likely guarded, too. I went in search of a back stairs, keeping an eye out for Jen and Lorraine. Because I’d cast the glamour on them, I wouldn’t have trouble seeing them.

  A pair of women stopped to admire me. Both were likely in their thirties or early forties and had dressed with effortless elegance. I’d named my business—Effortless Estates—after just that kind of fashionable perfection that seemed perfectly natural.

  “You look stunning in that dress,” the first one gushed. She was thicker around the middle with large breasts. She wore a layered, blue-gray chiffon dress that set off her pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. It was perfectly cut and complimented her figure.

  “I’d love to get the name of the designer,” the other said. She was tall, with wide shoulders and a straight waist. She wore a slip dress made of layered silk that flattered her figure. A bootie-pump hybrid in calfskin and dyed the same pinkish-gray as her dress completed her look. Her hair was brown with expensive honey highlights.

  Both women looked flawless and expensive. Just the kind of clients Rhi and Lorel needed.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Her name is Rhiannon Larson. She’s very exclusive, but if you have a card, I can pass it along for you.”

  They dug out their cards and passed them to me. “I’ve got a function soon and I’d love to wear something by her,” slip dress said.

  “I’d love to get a holiday dress or two from her,” chiffon dress added.

  “I’ll pass along your information as soon as I can. Could you direct me toward a bathroom?”

  Soon I found myself just inside a bathroom sitting area where women gazed at themselves in mirrors and reapplied their makeup, or simply sat in the comfortable sitting area to cool down after the outside heat. I stood for a moment, ignoring the curious looks I got and then stepped back outside. Instead of turning back toward the party, I went the other way, hoping it would lead me to the service areas.

  I finally found a laundry room with two sets of industrial washers and dryers. Folding tables ran down one wall, along with stacks of baskets and rolling carts. Shelves loaded with cleaning supplies covered another wall.

  The freight elevator had to be near in order to transport the laundry up and down, and the stairs would likely be close to it. When I found the freight elevator, I was pleasantly surprised to discover it wasn’t guarded at all. I pressed the button and it opened instantly. I stepped inside and hit the button for the third floor. Just as the doors started to slide shut, Jen and Lorraine came flying inside.

  Adrenaline spiked along with fear. “What’s the matter? Who’s after you?”

  “Nobody,” Jen said. “We saw you and didn’t want to yell and draw attention to you, so we ran down the stairs and jumped aboard.”

  “Where are you going? You’re supposed to be distracting Flannery,” Lorraine said.

  “I realized Lydia has to be here in the house,” I said, and quickly explained my logic.

  Lorraine and Jen exchanged horrified looks as the elevator stopped at the third floor. The doors slid open. We looked out and found ourselves standing in a small vestibule. A door on the other side led into a large janitorial closet. A single hallway led out.

  “Let us go ahead,” Jen told me. “We’re not noticeable. You are.”

  I’d considered casting a glamour on myself, but didn’t figure I needed to. If anybody saw me, I’d just hit them with magic and knock them cold.

  Lorraine motioned me closer as she and Jen glanced down the cross hallway.

  “Where should we look, first?” she asked.

  “We should split up,” I said.

  Jen gave me a sharp look. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  I shook my head. “I just have this feeling.” That’s when I remembered Flannery’s phone call after he’d left Luke and I. “Flannery came in the house,” I said. “He got a call and came straight here.”

  “Which means he's probably with Lydia,” Jen said.

  “I really don’t like the sound of that,” Lorraine said.

  “Me, either. He’s got to be angry that she made him look bad by leaving and then wouldn’t come crawling back. He’s going to want revenge or to teach her a lesson, or both. I’m betting he’ll start on the cats and then graduate to her.”

  “We’d better find her fast, then,” Jen said. “He could kill her and nobody would know she was even here. We don’t even know for sure.”

  “She’s here,” I said confidently.

  “I believe you, but would the cops? Let’s go find her.”

  Jen and Lorraine went left, splitting up where the hallway joined another. I went right. The upstairs was as much of a maze as downstairs, but with more rooms. I didn’t bother looking inside any of the doors I passed. The owner’s suite would have an imposing entrance. None of these rooms fit. If I were building the house, I’d put the owner’s suite on the north or south end. Both would have a three quarter view of the surrounding terrain, and you’d be able to watch both the sunrise and sunset if you wanted.