Thrill Me to Death Read online

  She squeezed her eyes shut and listened, unwilling to lift her head and end the thrill of her daydream.

  She heard a loud tap, then a scuff, a breath.

  Someone was in the room. Apprehension tightened her belly, and she started to raise her head, to turn and look.

  The thwack on her back was so ferocious, it forced her breath out with a grunt. Something hard immobilized her, pressed down on her, like a giant slab of cement. She groaned with the pain, and the vicious whip from fantasy to horror.

  “Give it up!” Hot breath burned her ear, no more than a low growl full of threat and darkness.

  She pushed, but something held her down. Hands? Iron? She couldn’t catch her breath enough to scream, her limbs jerking helplessly. The pressure increased.

  “Give it up or you’ll be sorry!”

  Fury and denial and the bone-deep instinct to survive bolted through her like an electrical charge, but she couldn’t fight the power of what pressed down on her back.

  “Give.” The weight increased. “It.” The pain intensified. “Up.” The voice burned her ear. “Or you’ll regret it.”

  Suddenly agony cracked against the base of her skull, sharp and blinding. In the moment it took for the blackness to descend, Cori knew she was about to die.

  Chapter

  Eight

  “W hat the hell kind of bodyguard are you, anyway? Why weren’t you in here with her?”

  Pain shot through Cori’s entire body with a high-pitched screech. Or was that Breezy’s voice, an octave higher from panic? Breezy…screaming at…Max.

  She tried to open her eyes, moaning with the effort, and an image of a man swam before her.

  Max, leaning over her, holding her down with one hand…and holding off Breezy with the other.

  “Get back,” he ordered. “She’s waking up.”

  Cori groaned as a wave of pain rolled from one side of her head to the other.

  “Cori!” Breezy exclaimed, coming closer despite Max’s command. “Oh my God, I thought you were dead.”

  “Me, too,” she managed, her voice sounding far away.

  Max’s grip tightened on her shoulder. “You okay, kid?”

  She tried to nod.

  “Breathe,” he ordered. “Slow, deep. Get some oxygen.”

  She did her best, smelling something spicy and sweet. Patchouli.

  The scent brought everything back.

  “I was getting a massage,” she muttered, trying to sit up, but it felt like a knife was planted in her skull. Someone had attacked her.

  “Easy, easy.” Max guided her back.

  “What happened?” Breezy demanded. “I came in here to talk to you and you were out. I couldn’t wake you! Did you faint? Swen told me you were waiting for him and I—”

  “Shhh.” Max quieted her with a raised hand. “Give her a second. It’ll come back to her.”

  Even the dim light of the massage room hurt her eyes, so she closed them and silently blessed him for silencing Breezy’s voice.

  “Everything…hurts.”

  “I’ll call for an ambulance.” Breezy whipped out a cell phone.

  “No.” Cori managed to rise a bit, but then realized Max was lifting her shoulders. She squinted for focus and her gaze landed squarely on him, locking onto the concern in his eyes, and something else. Anger? Was he mad at her for taking off and not telling him where she was going?

  Or was it guilt for not being there when she’d been attacked?

  “What happened?” Breezy begged again.

  “Swen left to do something,” she said foggily. “How long was I out?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “I saw Swen downstairs, about ten minutes ago,” Breezy said, snuggling into Cori’s side. “He said you were up here in room four, and he had to calm down an upset client, but that you were waiting for him. I came in here to talk to you, and you were…totally out.” Breezy’s voice cracked as she gripped Cori’s hand.

  “Someone attacked me.” Cori looked at Breezy, then Max. “Someone came in here and held me down, then hit me.”

  “What?” Breezy was incredulous, then she whipped around toward the dressing table. “Is your jewelry here?”

  Cori sat up, cringing and barely holding the sheet over her breasts. “It didn’t have anything to do with my jewelry. Someone sat on me and—”

  “Sat on you?” Max demanded.

  “Something strong and solid held me down,” she recalled, thinking of the slablike weight on her back.

  Max reached toward the floor, picking up a blue padded board no bigger than a throw pillow. “Could this be what felt like someone sitting on you? This, pressing on your back?”

  She imagined the pressure, the flat weight of the reflexology footrest. “Yes. But then…” Slowly, she reached up to touch her head, wincing at the egg-size lump. “I was hit.”

  Max touched the spot under her hair and she winced. “A rabbit punch,” he said. “Well placed, too. Someone knew exactly what they were doing.”

  “Oh, my darling,” Breezy crooned. “We have to get you out of here. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “No,” Cori insisted. “I’m fine. I just want to know who was in here and why.”

  Breezy sucked in a breath. “Do you think they…” She looked deliberately down the outline of Cori’s sheet-covered body. “Touched you?”

  “No.” She didn’t know how, but she just knew. Her attacker was trying to scare her. To stop her. She knew what and why…but not who.

  “Who knew you were in here?” Max asked.

  “No one, really.” She looked at him. “It was a totally impulsive decision. The only person who knew was Swen and—”

  “And I just saw him downstairs,” Breezy said. “What did this guy say, Cor?”

  “He said ‘Go away.’ No, no. Something like…give it up. Yes, that’s what he said. ‘Give it up.’ ” Or you’ll be sorry.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Breezy wrapped her in a hug. “I’ll get you home and safe.”

  “I’ll get her home,” Max corrected. “Get her dressed. I’m going to question everyone in this spa. No one leaves. No employee, no guest.”

  “Good luck with that,” Breezy said with an eye roll. “The place is a small city with four floors full of suites like this one, a health club, a sea of saunas and steam rooms, and about a hundred Chinese-speaking employees.”

  “I can handle it,” he said, shooting her a hard look.

  Cori grabbed his hand and he stopped. “Max, where were you?”

  “In the lobby making a phone call. Then I tried to find you, but no one in the reception area knew where you were.” He stood up and went to the door, sliding the rice-paper panels back and giving Breezy a measured gaze. “Don’t leave her alone.” Then he left.

  Breezy patted her arm, her sympathy palpable. “Maybe you should listen.”

  “To him?”

  “To whoever came in here and told you to give it up.”

  But Breezy didn’t know what he was asking, or why.

  “I want you to be safe,” Breezy continued. “Although lately, even shopping isn’t safe for you. Do you think Billy sent a thug?”

  “I don’t know,” Cori said, finally sitting up. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going yachting with Lulu Garrey.”

  “Too hot. Too dull. And Swen called and told me they found my diamond earrings here from yesterday, and I had been so afraid I’d lost them. The ones Giff got from Bulgari.”

  “Oh.” A memory of their morning conversation trickled through Cori’s dazed mind. “Is that what was wrong this morning?”

  Breezy shrugged. “Among other things.”

  Cori fought a wave of nausea. She’d talk to Breezy about whatever it was later. “Can you get my clothes?”

  “Of course.” Breezy pulled a suit off the hanger and smoothed the white silk blouse before handing it to Cori. “Why would someone do this to you? And here of all places?”

>   “I don’t know,” she whispered as she buttoned her blouse with shaky fingers. Her bare foot stepped in something wet and she looked down to see the tipped-over vase, its flower crushed by someone’s foot.

  Whoever had been in that room may have—probably had—killed William.

  The thought made her dizzy. “You sure you didn’t see anyone leaving, Breezy?”

  “Not a soul.” Breezy handed her the skirt and when their hands touched, she held on to Cori for a moment. “If I were you, I’d be scared.”

  “I am.”

  But not scared enough to back down.

  “So were you wrong about the walk in the park, Max?”

  Max hated that Lucy knew him so well. “I’m only calling to see if there’s any progress on the background checks I ordered and the signature scan I sent. Don’t need a lecture.”

  God knows he’d kicked his own ass plenty for taking one ten-minute break from his bodyguard work to do investigative work, and his principal had paid dearly.

  “Raquel is gone, but she left me a note that said our team in Helsinki is working on Raynor. There’s nothing on Andrea Lockhart, except that she’s been investigated once by the SEC for her involvement in insider trading, but she was exonerated. This was a few years before joining Peyton.”

  “All right. Thanks. I gotta—”

  “Wait.”

  He closed his eyes and suppressed a groan.

  “I have new information,” Lucy announced.

  He adjusted his position on the balustrade so he could see better into Cori’s bedroom. The doctor was still sitting with her.

  “The ME who did the autopsy on William Peyton has disappeared,” she told him. “He resigned his job and left with his family on a flight to Kyoto, Japan. Beckworth Insurance thinks that’s very odd.”

  “They’re right. It is. But not illegal or suspicious. The guy performed hundreds of autopsies. What makes them think this move has to do with Peyton’s death?”

  “Timing.”

  He considered that. “Are we investigating? Are they?”

  “I don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t have anyone free at the moment, but I might in a week or so. In the meantime, what have you found on the widow?”

  Her sweet spot. “No motive except inheritance, but she’s always been ambivalent about money.”

  “No one is ambivalent about billions.”

  “I met a woman once,” he said quietly, turning toward the pool area below, “who told me sweeping generalizations are always wrong.”

  Lucy laughed softly. “I’m never sure if you’re listening. But I’d like to find out why she ordered cremation just hours after the autopsy report was filed, before another pathologist could confirm.”

  “Because the guy died of a heart condition, not a stab wound, and there would be no reason for a second opinion.”

  “You’re defending her,” Lucy said.

  “I’m considering every angle,” he replied. “Including who and why someone attacked her today. I hit nothing but brick walls when I talked to employees and patrons of that spa.” The doctor was heading for the bedroom door. “I gotta go, Luce.”

  He snapped the phone shut and trotted down the back spiral staircase to meet up with the doctor just as he got to the bottom of the main stairs.

  “Dr. Mahesh,” Max said as he approached. They’d met earlier, but the diminutive doctor still looked warily at Max. “How is she?”

  “She does not need X-rays,” the doctor said, his voice thick with an Indian accent. “She will be fine. Just rest.”

  “Does she have a concussion?”

  He shook his head. “No. She can sleep now. It’s been four or five hours. She needs three things: a warm bath, a light meal, and a good night’s sleep.”

  He said it as though he knew her very well. “You’ve treated her before,” Max said as he fell into a slow step with the doctor.

  “Yes, of course. And Mr. Peyton, as well.” There was just enough of a note of pride for Max to know that having the billionaire businessman as a patient was an honor.

  “I imagine a man in his position monitored his health closely,” Max said.

  “I have not treated Mr. Peyton for several years,” he admitted. “But I believe he was in perfect condition and his death was a shock.”

  “He was at least healthy enough to want to start another family,” Max noted.

  Dr. Mahesh looked up at Max, a question in his eyes. “No.”

  “He wasn’t? Was something wrong?”

  The doctor slowed his step. “Nothing was wrong. He had a vasectomy years ago.”

  A vasectomy? Had Cori lied to him…or had she been lied to?

  “I see,” Max said as he opened the door. “I must have misunderstood.”

  When Dr. Mahesh left, Max closed the door and looked around Cori’s estate.

  All he had were questions. He wanted answers. Maybe he needed to call in a little backup to get some.

  Chapter

  Nine

  “T his better be good, Roper.” Dan Gallagher put major irritation in his voice when he flipped his cell phone open with one hand, but he grinned at the woman in bed next to him. Tenderly, he thumbed the sweet pink nipple he’d been nibbling when the phone rang. “Just a sec, ma cherie,” he whispered to her.

  She giggled at his lousy French, but arched her exquisite body into him.

  “Where are you and what are you doing?” Max demanded.

  “I’m in Paris, which means it’s…” Dan paused, then rocked his very ready body against the concave of her stomach as he squinted at the clock on the nightstand. “What time is it, honey?”

  “Can I safely assume you’re not asking me?” Max deadpanned.

  Dan’s laugh was quick. “Actually, that was my polite way of answering the ‘what are you doing’ question. I’m busy.” Her fingers encircled his erection and Dan winced as pleasure shot through him. “Très busy.”

  “Aren’t you working? Lucy said everyone’s booked right now.”

  “Gig’s up, but Lucy doesn’t know yet,” Dan said, straining to keep his voice steady as Monique stroked him. “And if you tell her before I’m done getting to know my new friend from the embassy, I’ll have to kill you.” He winked at the doe-eyed beauty with the magic French fingers.

  He heard Max grunt a little, which probably accompanied an eye roll. Dan scooted up and gave Monique a pat. “Attendez, cherie.” Not that he wanted her to wait, but he’d known Max for thirty years, and Monique for about thirty hours. Although they were really good hours.

  “I need help,” Max announced in a voice that was, if it was possible, more serious than usual.

  “Hang on.” Dan covered the mouthpiece of the phone and reached down to kiss Monique. “Call. Phone. Friend.”

  “I’m your friend, too,” she whispered in charmingly accented English, punctuated by a squeeze on his cock.

  Dan groaned. “I know, baby. Attendez, s’il vous plait. That means wait, I’m begging you.”

  She giggled and trilled something delightful in French, then slipped out of the bed, giving Dan a nice view of her ass as she tiptoed toward her bedroom door. He situated himself on the fluffy down pillows and held the phone to his ear with one shoulder.

  “Roper, you owe me so big. What’s up?”

  “You know where I am?”

  “Swimming with a few alligators in Florida.” Lucy told Dan more than she told other Bullet Catchers. He knew where everyone in the organization was, and why. “Since it’s August, I can only imagine how much the polar bear loves that.”

  “Did she tell you who I’m assigned to?”

  “Uh-huh.” Dan considered a wisecrack, but knew from experience that Cori Cooper was no joking matter. “And how’s that going?”

  “Interesting.” Max, being Max, offered no more.

  Dan, being Dan, couldn’t let it go. “Interesting like you’re pretending nothing ever happened and she can’t keep her hands off you?”

/>   “Just interesting.”

  “Interesting like she’s forgiven you and you two have finally acknowledged that you were both wrong and still love each other?”

  “You’re worse than a freaking woman, you know that?” At least Max had a little humor in his voice. “I need a favor, not an advice column.”

  Dan grinned into the phone. “Oh, you need more than that, buddy, you just don’t know it. What’s up?”

  “Can you get away for a few days?”

  “Can I bring Monique the Magnifique?”

  “No.”

  “Bastard. What do you need?”

  “I need you to find a missing person and get some intelligence from him.”

  Dan sat up, Monique forgotten. “Who and where and about what?”

  “A doctor, an ME, who might be in Kyoto.”

  “Japan?” Dan half-laughed. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I’m in Paris.”

  “Closer to Japan than I am.”

  Dan had to agree. “What’s his name and what do you want to know?”

  “I can’t go into details right now. My principal is in the bathroom and could emerge at any minute.” Max paused and Dan imagined him checking for the all clear. “I’ll e-mail it all to you tomorrow. I just needed to confirm you could go, ’cause I can’t leave here. She needs round-the-clock protection.”

  “I thought she needed investigation.”

  “You know everything about this?” Max sounded miffed.

  “Hey, I’m watching your six, buddy. Will this take more than a few days? I don’t want Monique to forget me. Not that it’s possible, but hey.”

  “Listen,” Max said. “When you find this guy—”

  “When? You either have a lot of confidence or a lot of information on him.”

  “How many American pathologists can be running around Japan?” Max asked.

  “It depends on whether or not the guy wants to be found. Is he hiding or sightseeing? And are you sure you don’t want Lucy to know what’s going on? She probably has some CIA connections in Japan to speed things up.”

  “We’ll bring her in when we have to. Now listen, I need to get some information about a Finnish guy, too. Is Romero still in Helsinki?”