Las Vegas: Seduction: The Heiress's 2-Week Affair

Natalie half rose in her seat. “Where is she going?” she demanded. When Wilson didn’t answer her, she looked at the computer technician expectantly. “Get me the tape from the next camera.” To clarify, she pointed at the screen. “The one to the right of this one.”

“I—I can’t,” Wilson stuttered.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

The tech looked completely intimidated. “I—I would if I—I could, ma’am, but that one is—is down.” As he spoke, his stutter became more pronounced.

God, now she was scaring geeky technicians, Natalie thought, feeling guilty.

She took a breath, then released it, trying her best to sound less threatening. Inside, she was tied up in knots. She was certain that whoever killed her sister was just offscreen.

“What do you mean it’s down?”

“As in not working,” Matt told her easily, coming up behind her chair. She swung around to face him. “It happens.”

She didn’t believe in coincidences. Someone had put that camera out of commission. “Conveniently,” she bit off.

Matt moved so that his back was to the computer and he could see her better. “As a matter of fact, very inconveniently.”

All right, whoever Candace had seen wasn’t on camera. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t find out who it was. “I want to talk to all the valets who were parking cars last night,” she told him.

Matt inclined his head. “That can be arranged,” he told her. And then he smiled at her and said, “Ask me nicely.”

She gritted her teeth together. Maybe this was entertaining him, but she meant business.

“I want to talk to the valets who were parking cars last night or you’re going to suddenly find yourself a guest of the city for impeding a homicide investigation.” She shot him a warning look. “And I promise you, Schaffer, you really won’t like the accommodations.”

He crossed his arms before him. “That wasn’t asking nicely, Natalie,” he observed.

She jumped up to her feet. “Look—” But she got no further.

Because, just then, Adam Parker and Miles Davidson pushed open the door and walked into the surveillance room.

Both men looked as surprised to see her as she was to see them.

Parker frowned at her. “You wouldn’t be conducting an investigation into your sister’s death after the captain gave you explicit orders not to and put you on bereavement leave, would you Rothchild?” he asked.

Natalie didn’t know if the question was tongue in cheek or not. She was pretty certain the men would turn a blind eye to her pursuing leads as long as it wasn’t right in front of them. This put all three of them in an awkward position.

“As a matter of fact, Natalie’s here visiting me,” Matt informed the detectives genially. Both men looked rather dubious. “We used to be close,” he went on. “I invited her in here so that I could keep an eye on the monitors while we caught up on old times.” As he talked, he approached the detectives. Passing Wilson’s desk, Matt pressed a key on the board so swiftly that the movement was all but imperceptible.

Except that Natalie saw him.

A long, narrow bar appeared on the bottom of the screen, indicating that something was currently being saved.

Matt deliberately placed his body before the two detectives and in front of Wilson’s computer, effectively blocking it.

He looked from one man to the other. “I’m Matt Schaffer, head of Montgomery Enterprises security.” He shook each detective’s hand in turn. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah.” Parker nodded toward the computers in general. “You can hand over all your surveillance tapes from last night.”

Matt remained unfazed. “That’s a tall order, detective. Do you have a subpoena?”

Parker reached into his inside pocket and took out an envelope. “Right here.”

Natalie felt her heart sink.

Chapter 6

He smiled to himself as he watched the news on the flat-panel TV in his dreary apartment. Another building blocked sunlight from entering through the window, but that didn’t dampen his spirits. Today, he felt on top of the world.

Didn’t take long, did it? he thought, tossing away the greasy wrapper that had held his fast-food lunch. But then, the media was full of nothing but sharks these days no matter what venue they reported in. The moment they smelled blood—in this case, a story about a tabloid queen who’d led an in-your-face life since she put on her first pair of thong underwear—there was a feeding frenzy.

The story had broke early this morning, and there’d been nothing but a recycling of details, ad nauseam, since then.

No matter, it would be a long time before he got tired of hearing them.

“There’ll be more to join her soon enough,” he promised the attractive blonde whose turn it was to interrupt the scheduled morning programming with this “Breaking news.”

A wicked smile curved his mouth, marring his handsome features. One by one, he was going to make all the Rothchilds pay for what had been done, both to his father and, consequently, to his mother.

“Think he can clear his conscience by throwing a few dollars our way?” he seethed, addressing the words to the air. “Was that supposed to make up for robbing us of Poppi and what was his? Well, Rothchild’s in for one hell of a surprise if that’s what he thinks.”

The laugh that echoed within the dim room sounded more like a demonic giggle.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and curled his fingers around the prize he’d secured last night. It comforted him not because of what it was but because he knew that Harold Rothchild grieved over its absence probably even more than he grieved for his daughter’s demise. The newscaster was saying something about robbery being the motive.

Let them think that, he thought. Stealing the dazzling ring had just been the cherry on top of the sundae. Hitting Rothchild where it hurt most. Besides, he wasn’t stealing; he was reclaiming. The gem belonged to his family, not Rothchild’s. And his aim was to go on eliminating family members until old man Rothchild was the last man standing.

Once Rothchild’s entire family was gone, then and only then, would he move in to bring an end to the old man’s misery. Slowly, he decided. Very, very slowly. He was going to enjoy hearing Rothchild beg for mercy.

His father had never had the chance, he thought bitterly. Joseph Rothchild had been his father’s judge and executioner—and Harold Rothchild had stood in the shadows and watched, shaking like a little girl, too afraid of his own father to do the right thing and intervene.

Well, this was going to teach that spineless bastard to mess with his family, the young man promised himself with mounting glee.

Knowing he needed to go out, he looked around the small, airless apartment, searching for a place to leave the priceless ring. But there was nowhere within the three untidy rooms that he, as an accomplished thief, wouldn’t have looked in his search for goods. Thieves were rampant in this city of glitter and sin.

The safest place, for now, he decided, was with him. So he left it in his pocket.

His smile widened. It was the kind of malevolent look that made a man’s blood run cold, he thought proudly, catching a glimpse of himself in the cracked, smoky mirror that he passed on his way to the door.

Besides, in the right hands, the hands of the family who were the rightful owners of the diamond, wasn’t it supposed to bring some kind of good luck? Since his father had been the one to have originally found the gem in that godforsaken mine, that meant the multicolored diamond with its hypnotic gleam belonged to his family. And that, in turn, meant that it was supposed to bring him luck.

In a way, he mused philosophically, it already had. He’d killed Candace Rothchild and no one was the wiser. No one had seen it coming, not even Candace until the late few moments. The lying, empty-headed bitch thought she was going to have a blood-pumping roll in the sack, not receive a one-way ticket for a trip on the River Styx.

Surprise!

Curling his fingers around the ring, he walked out of his apartment whistling. He took care to lock the door behind him.