Enchant Me by J. Kenner

7

“Damien!” Nikki’s shrill cry jarred Damien away from a discussion about a permitting issue on a new real estate project. He caught Ryan’s eye in the same instant that they both sprinted for the stairs, with Jackson right behind them.

“Check the playroom!” Damien called back to Sylvia, who took off running to the first floor room.

Damien reached the landing only seconds before Ryan to find Nikki gaping at him. He yanked her into his arms. “What is it? What happened?”

Her answer was cut off by Sylvia calling out that the kids were fine, and in that moment his terror faded somewhat. Not completely, though. His wife was pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury “Nikki? What—”

“That!” She thrust her hand toward the painting, and he immediately saw the note taped to the portrait. The note that called his wife a whore.

“Son of a bitch.” The word burst from him, fueled by both fury and fear. Fury that someone had come into the house and violated their personal space. Fear for the children, because Damien knew better than anyone just how vulnerable they were. “Whoever did this—”

“They’re fucking with us in our private space,” she said, the fury in her voice matching his own.

He wanted to rip the damn note down, tear it into pieces, but he couldn’t. It needed to stay where it was until they had the chance to examine it, check for fingerprints, do all of the grunt work that comes with a threat.

Nikki’s hand closed tight in his, and he met her eyes. He saw her fear, and he forced himself to dial back his own. To channel it into control and action. Because he would find whoever did this, and he would make them very, very sorry.

“I didn’t mean to scream and terrify you. I just—well, ugh.” She lashed out, smacking the shit out of the banister. “Fuck. I just wasn’t expecting this in my living room.”

“I know, baby. Believe me, I know.”

“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Jamie said, which was absurd, but had the effect of lightening the moment. And the fact that she didn’t ask who could possibly have done such a thing—as Jackson was asking right then—suggested to Damien that Nikki had told her about the video. And Jamie, of course, had told Ryan.

Jackson held out his hands. “You weren’t expecting this?” he said, repeating back Damien’s words.

“You should have filled me in yourself this afternoon,” Ryan said. “I would have brought in a team.”

Jackson looked between the two of them. “Filled you in? On what? Come on, little brother,” he demanded, his full attention on Damien. “What the hell is going on?”

“I intended to tell you everything tonight once we were all up here with a drink in our hands. Looks like someone stepped on my line,” he added with a glance toward Jamie, who smiled sheepishly and held up her hands in surrender.

“I only told Ryan,” she said. “You still get to be the one to fill Jackson in.”

He fought back a much-needed laugh, then gestured for the sofas. Nikki held back, her attention on the first floor where Sylvia and Bree were hurrying toward them, the latter now barefoot and in a tank top and jeans. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a single ponytail, making her eyes look even wider.

“What happened?” she asked, her question overlapping with Sylvia’s statement that, “The kids are fine. What’s going on?”

“You were downstairs?” Nikki asked Bree. “I thought you were at your place, and Ronnie was playing babysitter.”

“Ronnie’s in charge,” Bree confirmed as both she and Syl climbed the stairs. “I didn’t want to take that away from her. But I felt weird leaving them alone in the house with people here….” She trailed off as she met Damien’s eyes. “I know Alaine’s your friend, but I don’t know his staff, and, well, after everything this morning….”

She shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. Though they hadn’t shown her the video, he and Nikki had told Bree that someone had sent a potentially threatening text. Considering their shared history with the kidnapping, she deserved to be among the first to know.

“You did great,” he told her. “I’d never doubt your judgment about taking care of the kids.”

“Thanks.” She aimed the words at both him and Nikki, her brow furrowing. “But what’s going on.”

Jackson had been standing in front of the note, but now he stepped away. “This. You were in and out with the kids all evening. Any chance you saw someone where they weren’t supposed to be?”

Her eyes went wide as she saw the note, then she slowly shook her head. “I haven’t seen anyone in here. I never even crossed paths with the caterers. But I spent most of my time outside with the kids except to take Bradley to the bathroom.” She looked between Damien and Nikki. “Is there anything on the security feed?”

“Doing that now,” Ryan said, and Damien glanced over, unsurprised to see that his friend and head of security for all of Stark International was on the ball.

“There was a man,” Nikki said, addressing both Damien and Ryan. “Before the wedding, I saw someone sitting in the last row. He was dressed like one of the servers, and although it was odd, I didn’t think too much about it.”

“He stayed for the ceremony?” Damien asked, pulling her closer. Needing to feel her near him.

“No. He left right before it began, then headed into the house. I meant to ask Alaine about it, but by the time we got to the reception, it had slipped my mind. Until I saw that,” she added with a nod toward the note.

Still beside him, Bree shuddered and hugged herself. He was about to say something to her when Ryan said, “Got it.”

Damien stepped aside to peer over Ryan’s shoulder, Nikki beside him. “Is that the guy you saw at the ceremony?”

“Hard to tell,” she said. “I can’t see his face at all here, so I can’t tell if he has a beard, and it’s hard to judge his height because of the angle. But his hair is dark, and he’s wearing the outfit, so the odds are good.”

They watched the screen as the man hurried up the stairs, taped the note, then disappeared back down the stairs, all without looking up. When he reached the ground floor, he exited through the front door, using a handkerchief on the knob. He’d been less careful with the note and tape. Maybe they’d get lucky and find prints.

“Exterior cams,” Damien said.

“Already on it.” A moment later, Ryan held the phone out again for all to see. Now it was showing the northeast parking area camera. The intruder slipped into a plain black Toyota, pulled out, and headed toward the guard station. “One second,” Ryan said, tapping the screen to switch cameras. A moment later they watched as the car exited through the automatic gate.

Damien pulled out his phone and dialed the gatehouse.

“Mr. Stark,” Charlie said. “I hope the wedding was nice.”

“It was lovely, Charlie. Do you remember a Toyota leaving earlier this evening? Driver dressed like one of the servers?”

“Yes, sir. I assumed he was off to pick up something the caterer forgot, but he never came back.”

“Can you find the still for his car?” Two cameras at the gatehouse recorded both the license plate and driver of all entering and exiting vehicles. “Then shoot me both images.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Is there a problem, sir?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, and nothing that reflects on your watch.”

“I see,” Charlie said, though of course he didn’t really. “I’ll get that to you right away.”

“Thank you, Charlie. Say hello to your wife and that little boy, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir.”

Damien ended the call, his eyes meeting Ryan’s. “Either one of Alaine’s, or someone who figured that was the best way to infiltrate. I’m guessing it will be the latter, but I’m withholding final judgment until we talk with Alaine.”

“The staff is still in the kitchen,” Ryan said. “They must still be packing up and cleaning. I’ll run and get him. And I’ll ask the staff to hang around a bit longer. Even if he did use the outfit as camouflage, one of them might have noticed him. Meanwhile, no one touch the note. I’ll text Mario and have him come dust for prints. Unless you want to get the police involved?”

Damien shook his head. “No. We’ll handle this privately. But I’ll have Charles call the station in the morning and explain the situation. Just so they have it on record.”

“Privacy’s one thing,” Jackson said, “but someone is harassing you in your home. I may not have had the best experience with the cops, but even I think they should be involved.”

“No,” Damien said, then glanced at Ryan, who nodded.

“All right. What else is going on?” Jackson asked as Nikki squeezed Damien’s hand in solidarity.

“Let’s go on in and sit down. I’ll fill you in while Ryan gets Alaine.” He frowned, for the first time noticing that Jamie and Sylvia had disappeared.

“They’re setting us up with bourbon and coffee,” Jackson said, nodding toward the third-floor kitchen that had become the heart of the home. “Right now, I’m thinking we’ll all be going with bourbon.”

“You got that right,” Damien said. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “This will fuck Alaine up if it’s someone on his staff. He’ll never forgive himself for not vetting his team well enough.”

“So would you in his shoes,” she told him. “But you’ll also tell him that you understand that.”

“I will,” he said, following his brother toward the sitting area. Nikki, however, held back, and he turned to find her with Bree.

“You can go on to your place,” she said. “Thank you so much for staying with the kids.”

“Are you kidding? Of course. But I—well, could I have one word with Mr. Stark, first?”

“Damien,” he said. “You know you can call me Damien.”

She nodded. “I know. I just—well, what I want to ask…”

“I’ll go help Jamie and Syl,” Nikki said.

“Oh, you can stay.”

“It’s fine,” Nikki said. “Unless you need me to?”

Bree shook her head.

“I promise he doesn’t bite. Not hard, anyway.”

Damien fought a laugh, and Bree visibly relaxed, the joke breaking the lingering tension. “How are you doing?” She’d been released unharmed after she and Anne were taken, but the trauma would linger forever. And now she’d learned that the home they’d considered a fortress had been breached.

“If this is making you nervous,” he added, “I’m happy to let you stay at the apartment until we beef up security and, hopefully, find who did this.”

“The apartment? Oh! You mean downtown?” Half of the top floor of Stark Tower was his personal residence. One of them, anyway. “Oh, no, Mr. Stark. I mean, Damien. No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I—I, well, you remember how I was seeing Rory,” she began, naming the man who had been Anne and Bree’s kidnapper.

“Of course, I remember.”

“Right. She pressed her lips together, then drew in a breath. “Um, listen, I hate to be the person who thinks like this, but could you do me a favor?”

“Probably,” Damien said, wondering where she could possibly be going with this conversation. “What do you need?”

“I’ve been seeing this guy for a few weeks. He’s been here a couple of times, and Nikki’s met him. He’s really nice. Funny and charming, and I trust him completely.”

He saw the truth of her words in her eyes. And he saw the guilt, too. “You want me to run a background check.”

She blinked, but nodded. “I hate myself for asking, but I trusted Rory, too, and now—now I don’t trust myself, you know?”

“I do,” he said softly. “And of course I will if it will make you feel better. But Rory was the exception, not the rule. At the same time, you’re doing the right thing by checking this guy out. It’s a matter of your safety and the safety of the kids. So thank you, Bree, for being so responsible.”

She managed a smile. “I still hate asking.”

“Well, technically, you didn’t. Text me his name and any other concrete information you have on him. I’ll get Ryan on it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He started to head back to Nikki and the others, then hesitated. “Any word on your book?” She’d moved back from New York to attend a low residency masters program in creative writing. She’d finished her first novel and was well into a second, but so far hadn’t found a buyer for it.

“Nothing yet, but everyone says these things take time.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything, okay? I enjoyed it,” he added, glad that his words were the absolute truth. “I’d love to see you get it published.”

“Thanks, Mr.—thanks, Damien. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to sleep on the playroom sofa tonight.”

He smiled. “I thought you might. And, Bree?”

Her brows rose in question.

“I’m glad you’re part of the family.”

Her smile lit her face. “Anne and Lara and Bradley mean the world to me, and so do you and Nikki. You’re role models, you know? And what makes you good ones is that you’re human.” She cocked her head toward the stairs. “I’ll text you that stuff tonight before I crash. Let me know if you learn anything about that horrible thing,” she added, pointing toward the note.

“You’ll know when we do.”

He watched her go, then turned to find Nikki coming toward him with a glass of bourbon. “You look like you could use it.”

“She wants me to investigate her boyfriend. She shouldn’t have to worry about running background checks on the guy she’s dating.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” The words snapped out of him, pushed by fury, not reason. “Someone was in this house, uninvited, fucking with our personal space.”

“I get that you’re mad.”

“Do you?”

“You think I don’t?” She stepped closer, her back straight, her expression fierce. “You’re more angry at yourself than at him. Because you didn’t anticipate it.”

“Damn right, I am.”

She grinned at him. “I told you I understood.”

The fury that had been building in him backed down, and he drew in a breath, ratcheting back the desire to punch something. “Come on. We need to fill the others in before Ryan gets back with Alaine. I’m not telling Alaine about the video, but Jackson and Sylvia should know.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell them, you know. Or at least not tonight.”

He considered it. God knew he didn’t want to talk about the damn video again. And he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about what happened back when he and Sofia were both children and victims.

But all he said was, “Yes, I do. They’re family, aren’t they? And after what you and I both suffered through, the most important thing in my life next to you and the girls is doing family right.”

“I love you, Mr. Stark.”

“I know,” he said. “Where do you think I get the strength to do this?”