In order to protect her, I have to get her away from here. From me, from Alex. From serial killers and dangerous criminals. “Mom, this is insane talk. Why don’t you go on a cruise with Rochelle instead?”
She scoffs. “Listen here, Blakely. Who do you think handled your father’s business and his connections? You think luncheons and cocktails built half of New York?” She steps close to me and lowers her voice. “My daughter will not be destroyed because of some crooked, raping financial adviser.”
My breathing shallows, a buzz hums in my ears, muting the sounds of the city. The severe coolness in her green gaze sends a chill over my skin. How does she know so much about Ericson?
“Listen to your mother, honey,” Rochelle says, breaking into my disturbed thoughts. “This city talks. Money knows money. Let us protect you.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, but I’m only half listening as I catalog the events of this morning. Alex didn’t have time to reveal the whole situation to my mother. Ericson Daverns had a reputation—one my mother was apprised of, but not through her network of trophy wives.
“You knew who my clients were,” I say to her, the implication heavy in my tone. “You…had access to them. You kept tabs on them.”
She lifts her chin, clears the fringe of bangs from her forehead. “It’s a mother’s job to make sure her child is protected. Whether she appreciates it or not.”
I glance at Rochelle, then back to my mother, stunned. “The past six weeks, you’ve known? And you didn’t say a word to me?”
A flash of guilt settles in the makeup creases of my mother’s features before she expertly smiles the expression away. “Would you have told me the truth?” she demands. “Had your lawyer not contacted me—”
“He’s not my lawyer,” I snap.
“You have never once accepted my offer of help,” she continues, undeterred. “Had…whoever-that-man-is not contacted me today, you would’ve made a grave mistake, Blakely. The whole situation was already handled.”
“How?”
She shrugs, as if getting your daughter out of a murder charge is simply another socialite duty. “I didn’t need to know the details. Like I said, I know my daughter. I also know there was a victim, a woman, who needed a little financial padding to persuade her memory loss.”
She was unconscious. The woman Ericson attacked in the alley, she was knocked out. I swear, I checked. I made sure she was alive, but she didn’t see my face. And even if she did get a glimpse, she was traumatized. Memories can’t be trusted. There’s no way she could pick me out of a lineup.
“Mentally combing through all those loose ends?” My mother sips her drink smugly. “You’re welcome, my daughter.”
My mother paid off the victim. Which means she had a way to locate her. Someone on the inside of the investigation. An officer, or a detective. Or even the fucking police commissioner himself.
I’m at a loss for words, which I can’t say has ever happened before when it comes to Vanessa. “Thank you,” is all I manage to say.
“Of course.” Her expression softens as she studies my face. I’m sure my display of emotions is more than unsettling for her. She sighs, then: “You weren’t in any serious trouble. That woman only recalled your description as a witness to her attack. Someone reached out to me, and I just made sure your name wasn’t mentioned anywhere near the investigation.”
Because she knew Ericson was my revenge job. Because she knows her daughter is a psychopath. Because, even though she wasn’t sure, she thought I might have killed a man.
Then today, Alex confirmed her assumption.
“Now,” she says, “let’s call for brunch. I need to soak up some of these mimosas before my pedicure appointment.”
But before she heads inside, she adds, “Oh, one more thing.” She rakes her nails through my highlighted tresses to untangle the strands over my shoulder. “Vanson, or whoever that man is inside my penthouse, he knows more than he should. So…try to make good use of him. He does have good bone structure. Who are his parents?”
I shake my head lightly, not at all surprised that, for Vanessa, my love life is more dire than murder. But, she has surprised me at least once today.
I’ve never asked for my mother’s advice before, so it’s foreign and tastes strange. “How would you handle him?”
Rochelle releases a throaty laugh. “If you don’t know how to handle him, then you’re damn clueless. Because it’s written all over that boy’s face how he wants you to handle him.”
My mother sighs. “Blakely, you’ve been limping around my terrace, wearing a necklace of bruises that could only come from sex.”
“Rough, filthy sex,” Rochelle retorts.
“He obviously called me this morning out of concern for you,” my mother says. “That means all the power is in your court—”
“Balls,” Rochelle interrupts. “It’s balls in her court, Vee. At least two of them.” She winks at me before sliding her sunglasses in place.
Vanessa makes an impatient sound. “Try to enjoy the part of life that’s not all about work and revenge,” she says. “Have your fun. Just don’t let him anywhere near the press when you’re done with him.”
In other words, Vanessa Vaughn has very little concern for the man in her house. In truth, this very moment, I find my mother more terrifying than Alex or even the Angel of Maine. And I’m pretty sure her last statement was a veiled threat to keep Alex quiet.
She kisses my cheek, then Vanessa’s mask slips back into place as she turns to head inside. But for a moment, she let me see the nurturing yet fearless woman beneath, and that’s the reason I turn toward Rochelle and say, “She trusts you.”
“As should you, honey. Women in this city stick together. Too many old boys clubs and bell jars. We’re not letting one arrogant penis ruin your life.”
Crudely, that might be the most endearing thing she’s ever said to me.
“There’s more than one arrogant penis,” I say, casting my gaze toward Alex standing near the glass slider of the garden room. I return my gaze to Rochelle. “You’re going to get my mother out of the city for the next two weeks.”
“So you can get yourself into more trouble?” She quirks a pencil-drawn eyebrow.
“So I can know she’s safe.”
With tight lips, Rochelle nods. “Sure, sweetie. I knew you had a heart buried beneath those perky tits somewhere.”
“Yeah, who knew,” I deadpan.
She kisses me on my other cheek before she departs behind Vanessa. “Oh, a little advice for whatever you’re up to—” she swivels around “—enemies are plenty when it comes to money. Keep your enemies close, and if they get out of line, call in your mother.” She cackles as she heads into the penthouse.
I brace my hands on my hips and stare down at the crushed burner phone. If my mother and Rochelle knew the whole truth, their advice would be much different…and Alex might find himself buried under Vanessa’s rosebush.
However, there’s been enough confessions and reveals for one day.
The scar tissue on my palm pulses, suddenly making itself known. I rub my thumb over the jagged skin, recounting my talk with London and what she revealed about the bodies—Mary’s victims.