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“Rock, I’ve got news. Your dad’s girlfriend, Fonda, might be involved.”
“Fonda?” I’d only seen her once, at the will reading. She’d been pissed that he didn’t leave her anything, but then she left, and no one had heard anything from her.
I listened intently as Lacey filled me in.
“I’m heading to Chanelle now. Fredricka doesn’t think she’ll show up to the shoot, but if she’s there, she’s going to talk to me.”
“No, baby,” I said. “I want you in that suite, where you’re safe.”
“Rock, how can I just sit here? I’m going to trial for murder. I have to do what’s in my power to find the real culprit here.”
“I’ll send Buck over. Or Leif. You stay put.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Damn.” I raked my fingers through my hair that really needed a washing. “Lacey, I can’t do what I have to do here if I’m worried about you.”
“Reid’s doing it, and he doesn’t know where Zee is.”
“He does now. She’s here.”
Lacey gasped. “Oh my God. Is she okay?”
“She seems fine. Reid’s with her now.”
“Then she’s fine. You have to trust me, Rock. I’ll be fine as well. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I have to prove my innocence.”
“Baby, if Fonda’s behind this, that means she’s a murderer. Which means I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
“She won’t hurt me,” Lacey said. “I’m the one taking the fall for her. She wants me alive and well.”
I paused a moment to consider her words. She was right, of course, but still…
“Please, Lace. Don’t. I’ll send someone else over.”
“I have to do this, Rock. I love you, and your feelings mean everything to me, but please try to understand.”
I sighed. “I do understand, Lace.”
“I know you do. And I understand where you’re coming from. You want me safe. I need you to trust me. Trust that I won’t do anything that will jeopardize my safety.”
I exhaled a long breath. “All right. But you call me right after, okay? No negotiation on that.”
“You got it. I love you so much, Rock.”
“I love you too, baby.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket and walked back to the house.
I hoped to God Reid was done fucking his wife, because we needed Remy to take us to the other side of the island.
Even though the thought of what we’d find there made me sicker than I’d ever felt.
44
Lacey
Chanelle Manhattan had a photo studio at their headquarters. I had to wave some cash around to get inside. I was becoming more of a Wolfe every day. If the people whose palms I greased knew I was out on bail for murder, they didn’t mention it. Why would they? Green is green.
All I knew when I went in was that a photo shoot was definitely happening. Whether Fonda was taking part, I had no idea.
I stood in the back, out of the way, trying to be invisible. Several photographers were shooting a male and female model.
“Beautiful, beautiful,” one photographer said.
“Let’s see more of a pout, Genie,” said another.
Genie looked like a duck already, but she managed to pout a little more. This was supposed to sell cosmetics? But what did I know?
Click. Click. Click.
“That’s a wrap. We got some great shots,” the photographer who wanted more pout said. “Take a break, Genie and Herb.”
Herb? This gorgeous model’s name was Herb?
“Is Fonda ready?” another photographer asked.
My stomach clenched.
“She’s in makeup,” a young lady replied. “She’s almost done.”
So she was here. Good. Except now I felt like I was going to be sick all over my navy power suit.
I swallowed hard and leaned against the wall. The studio lights were bright, so it was easy to remain in the shadows.
One minute passed. Then another. Three and then four.
Finally, a woman emerged.
Fonda. She was a radiant woman with auburn hair and green eyes. She wore a one-piece emerald swimsuit with a plunging neckline that pushed up her average-sized breasts.
“Gorgeous, Fonda. Let’s see some moves.”
Someone revved up the wind machine, and Fonda’s long hair responded.
Click. Click. Click. “Yes, gorgeous. Tilt your head a little. Lovely.”
I scanned the studio. Fonda had emerged from a door off to the left. If I could inch along the wall and get to it, I could be waiting there when she was done with the shoot.
I stepped sideways. Then again. No one appeared to even notice me. Why would anyone, when there was a gorgeous model to look at?
I took another small step.
“Beautiful, darling. Just beautiful. Make love to the camera, Fonda.”
Really? Photographers really said shit like that? I had hard evidence now.
I took another step and then stopped to watch the shoot. Fonda didn’t look like a person who’d murdered her lover a month ago. Then again, she was playing a part. At the moment, she was a woman on the beach, the wind blowing through her hair. Heck, I didn’t look like a person who’d committed murder either, and that hadn’t stopped Morgan from arresting me.
