Hell on Heels

By the time they arrived the fundraiser was already in full swing. The Folly Theater was located in downtown Kansas City, in an area not far from Big Joey’s Bail Bonds. The Folly had begun life in the early years of the city as a house of burlesque. The building itself, both inside and out, was a masterpiece of design from years gone by.

Most recently the town leaders had been trying to decide what to do with the old lady. Tonight was only one of many fundraisers that would be necessary to raise enough money to provide the old building with some sort of future.

It was the usual champagne-and-hors d’oeuvres gathering, with the same faces that usually attended these kinds of functions.

Chantal snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and began to work the crowd. She talked about fashion and facials, about who was divorcing and who was getting married and managed in each conversation to bring up the topic of Willowby.

Her subtle inquiries were met with a variety of responses…blank stares, whispered expressions of shock and pointed changes of topic. What she didn’t get was any information that might help her in her hunt for the convicted rapist.

By eight-thirty Chantal was bored stiff. That’s when she saw him. He stood near the buffet table, looking as out of place as a palm frond on a ski slope. Although he was dressed in a respectable three-piece suit and had his hair neatly tied back at the nape of his neck, he looked only half-civilized as he perused the guests through narrow eyes.

How had Luke Coleman managed to get a ticket to this affair? She had a feeling he wasn’t on anyone’s list as a patron of the theater. It irked her to no end to see him here, in her world.

His gaze caught hers and he gave her that sexy half smile that twisted her stomach into a knot. She approached where he stood. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“And a good evening to you, Ms. Worthington.” His gaze slowly slid down the length of her. “You’re looking exceptionally fine this evening. Red is definitely your color.”

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, refusing to be swayed by his compliment but ridiculously pleased she’d chosen the red Gaultier for the evening.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing here. Fishing.”

“This is a ticketed, invitation-only event. How did you get in?”

At that moment Brandy Hamilton slid up to him and smiled. “There you are,” she said. “I was wondering where you’d gone. Hello, Chantal, have you met Luke?” Brandy’s eyes shone with the glaze of a woman who had imbibed too much champagne and who enjoyed too little natural intelligence.

“We’ve met,” Chantal replied. Brandy Hamilton was four years older than Chantal and although the two were social acquaintances, they had never been friends.

How on earth had Luke Coleman hooked up with the twice-divorced socialite who had the reputation for being an alcoholic man-eater?

“Luke does work for Daddy occasionally.” Brandy put a hand on Luke’s chest and smiled up at him. “Isn’t he yummy?”

“Yummy,” Chantal echoed dryly.

She murmured a goodbye and walked away. She shouldn’t be surprised that Brandy was the kind of woman Luke would like. Vapid and promiscuous, of course that would be his cup of tea. Not that she cared.

Still, it irritated her that he was here. This was her territory and she didn’t like the idea that he had the same access to information that she might have.

For the rest of the evening she felt his gaze on her often. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. She always felt half-naked beneath his dark intense gaze.

There was some comfort in knowing that although he wore a decent suit and was accompanied by Brandy, he would still be considered an outsider and she doubted very seriously that anyone would give him any information he could use.

By nine o’clock she was ready to go home. The evening had been a bust. Either nobody knew anything about Willowby or they weren’t talking about what they did know.

She rejoined her mother who indicated she was also ready to go and together the two women left the old theater. “Joan is divorcing Raymond,” Katherine said as they waited for the valet to bring them Chantal’s car.

“Why?”

“She found out he’s been having an affair with his secretary.”

“But, I thought Joan was having an affair with her yoga coach,” Chantal said.

“She is, but in this case what’s good for the gander is not good for the goose.”

Chantal sighed. “Sometimes I think relationships are just too much trouble.”

“They are a lot of trouble,” Katherine agreed. “But, when they’re good, they’re worth every ounce of that trouble. Your father and I got it right. He wasn’t just my husband, he was also my best friend.” Katherine smiled at her daughter. “I hope someday you find the same kind of thing.”

A wave of longing filled Chantal. She couldn’t seem to get it right. Her relationships so far had been flawed in one way or another and the flaws had been too big to overlook. When she dated a man who was from her same social background and standing it didn’t take long for boredom to creep in. If she dated somebody who was not of her social background she wondered if they were drawn more to her money than to her.

Although she loved her independence and loved her life there were times she wished she had somebody to share it with, somebody who would be her friend, her partner as well as her lover.

She mentally shoved away the wistful thoughts as her red sports car arrived. The two women got in and Chantal took off. She’d only driven two blocks when she first noticed the car behind them. It was a beat-up dark Chevy and it was following her way too closely.

“Doris has had a face lift since last time I saw her,” Katherine said. “She says she just took a little vacation, but I’d bet the farm that she took that vacation to a plastic surgeon.”

Chantal only half listened to her mother detailing the latest gossip as most of her attention was focused on the car behind them.

Back off, she thought as she stepped on the gas to gain some distance. But, before she could get any distance she came to a red light and had to stop.

The Chevy crept up so close behind her the glow of the headlights disappeared. She saw the flash in her rearview mirror just as the back windshield shattered.

“Get down,” Chantal screamed at her mother. At the same time she floored the gas pedal and shot through the red light.

Chapter 4

Chantal couldn’t beat up a man three times her size, nor could she figure out how to apply fake eyelashes that looked natural, but the one thing she could do was drive.

Her father used to joke that somehow Earnhardt blood had mixed with Worthington blood in her veins. From the moment she’d first gotten behind the steering wheel of a car she’d had the skills and instincts of a professional race-car driver.

She shot through the red light and took the next right corner on two wheels. The oppressively hot night air poured through the broken window as her heart pounded a frantic pace.

The Chevy squirreled around the corner behind her. Chantal slid a quick glance at her mother, who was practically lying on the seat next to her, then returned her gaze to the rearview mirror where the Chevy was gaining on them.

There was another flash from just outside the passenger-side window and she heard the ping of bullet against metal.

She didn’t waste a minute’s energy trying to figure out who was driving the Chevy or why they were shooting at her. All that mattered was escape. She’d ask questions later.

“Dean Koontz novels, cell phones, Victoria’s Secret,” she muttered under her breath as she careened around a left turn and shot through another red light.

Several cars blared their horns to show their displeasure. She’d rather invoke a healthy dose of road rage than be dead.

“Where are the cops when you need them?” she said.

“A speeding ticket sounds delightful right now,” Katherine murmured.

Chantal’s hands ached as she gripped the wheel, turning down one street then another in an attempt to lose their pursuers.

Katherine peeked over the dashboard just in time to see Chantal turn down a one-way street. “Oh, my,” she said as a pair of headlights careened toward them. She lowered her head to the seat as Chantal swerved a hard right to avoid the oncoming traffic.