Chapter 10: Security
It was shortly before 6:30 a.m. Cannes time when Remington departed for the casino in hopes of retrieving a security tape of the confrontation between Laura and Roselli. The front door had no sooner closed than Laura picked up the phone and dialed Denver, hoping that Murphy would forgive a call at nearly 10:30 p.m. his time. To her surprise, the phone on the other side was picked up on the first ring.
"Michaels," Murphy said by way of greeting. Laura grinned. As much as it irritated Murphy when Remington answered the phone with "Steele, here," her friend had never realized he answered the phone much the same.
"I hope I didn't wake you," she said into the phone.
"Hey, Pal," Murphy Michael's greeted her, "Dodger's game," he said, as though that explained him being wide awake at the late hours, which it did. "What's it been, about two months since we last talked?"
"Hey, Murph," Laura greeted him fondly. "A little over three I'd say. I don't think we've spoken since Bernice's wedding."
"You might be right. So what's been going on? Anything exciting?"
The question gave Laura pause. Murphy had never been Remington's biggest fan, making her hesitant to share the news. She shrugged her shoulders and decided to go for broke.
"Just run of the mill stuff," she answered in a voice meant to sound as though recent events were nothing short of blasé, "A murder here, a corrupt cop there, Remington and I finding out we'd been murdered while we were in New York at Bernice's wedding, getting married, inheriting a castle, being stalked by a psychopath... You know, the usual."
Murphy laughed on the other side of the line.
"Just run of the mill stuff, I see. What do you mean the two of you found out you were murdered while…" Murphy stopped mid-sentence, suddenly processing the latter part of her sentence. "Whoa, hold up. Laura, did you say you got married?"
"I did… we did."
"Are you serious?" Murphy asked, clearly astounded. "I've got to hand it to him. I could see wedding bells chiming in that head of his at Bernice's wedding, but I never thought he'd get up the guts to actually ask."
Laura quirked a half-smile at Murphy's obvious shock, when she heard him groan loudly on the other end of the line, she giggled.
"I know the news is shocking but I'm sure I rate at least an insincere congratulations as opposed to a moan that sounds as though I've caused you physical pain," she teased. He groaned again.
"You have caused me pain. Sher bet me at the wedding that the two of you would be married within six months. I just lost…" he trailed off with a grimace, drawing Laura's laughter again.
"Oh, and what was the wager?" Murphy shook his head in dismay on the other end of the line.
"Loser has to get the twins ready, by themselves, every day for three months," he groaned anew, while Laura's laughter grew only louder in return. "Couldn't you have at least held out for another few months, pal?"
"Apparently not," was her perky little reply. Murphy let lose a string of curses. Laura frowned at the phone.
"I didn't expect congratulations, Murph, but…" He laughed, interrupting her.
"Holton just gave up a dinger, again. We're down two now," he explained. "Are you happy, Laura?" She nodded although he clearly couldn't see her.
"I am, very much so."
"Then congratulations. But do me a favor and pass a message on to Steele for me."
"What's that?"
"Tell him that if he hurts you, I'm coming to LA to kick his ass and I won't let you stand in my way this time," he told her, only half-joking.
"Given we're in Cannes at the moment and will be in Greece tonight, I don't have to worry about keeping the two of you in line then, do I?" Laura teased.
"Cannes? What are you doing there? And what's in Greece?" he asked, clearly surprised.
"We're over here on our honeymoon, heading back to Greece in order to spend time with his family before returning to London for the reading of his father's will."
"His father? I'm confused. Last I knew he had no idea who his father was."
"He didn't. Daniel admitted to being his father right before he died."
"Daniel… Daniel Chalmers? Tell me you're kidding, Laura."
"I wish I was."
"How did Steele take the news? I mean this guy's been part of his life for, what, like 20 years and doesn't tell Steele he's his father?"
"It's been hard on him. Especially given Daniel died the same day he confessed."
"My God. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Wait. Didn't you say you inherited a castle? Tell me Chalmers didn't actually own a castle."
"Yes, Remington inherited a castle. No, it wasn't Daniel's. The Earl of Claridge actually bequeathed him the castle." This brought on a whole new round of groans from Murphy.
"Please, Laura, at least tell me this doesn't mean he has some fancy title like Duke."
"That's Lord and Lady Steele to you, Michaels," she teased, then laughed again at another groan.
"Okay, pal. This is a lot to process and I am sure this phone call is costing you your first born. You can catch me up on all of this when you get home. So give. Why are you calling me from Cannes, while on your honeymoon?"
Laura smiled. She should have known Murphy would know she had an alternative reason for calling and wasn't just ringing him up to say hi.
"We need your help, Murph."
Back at home in his living room, Murphy dropped his feet off the coffee table where they'd been propped and sat up straight, his PI antennae humming at the sudden strain he heard in Laura's voice.
"Anything for you, Laura, you know that," he told her, trying to keep his voice light. "What's up?"
"I need you to do a full background check on someone. We can't do it from here, and Mildred? I don't want to panic her without us there to focus her."
"What's going on, Laura?" he asked, his concern apparent now in his voice. Her hand lifted to rub her brow.
"We'll explain it all when we get home. It's… complicated…Murph."
"I swear to you, Laura, if he's put you in danger, I'll strangle him with my bare hands." Laura sighed heavily into the phone.
"He didn't, Murphy. I did. Please, I promise I'll fill you in when we get home."
Murphy heard the strain, the guilt in Laura's voice and from where he sat in Denver could picture her working her left brow as they spoke. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and focus. Opening the drawer of the end table, he grabbed out pen and pad.
"Okay. Give me the name and anything you know about him."
"Roselli. R-o-s-e-l-l-i. First name Anthony. I have no idea if he has a middle name or what it is. Approximately 35 years old. American. Has claimed to be a minor league baseball player, an archaeologist, and seems to have connections to both the INS and the MI5."
"Physical description?"
Laura pictured Roselli in her mind.
"Approximately 6'1" tall, around 200 pounds maybe? Medium complexion, blue eyes, and curly, light brown hair. Oh, and he has a cleft in his chin."
"Anything else that you can think of?" She scoured her mind.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact. He had a girlfriend, Concetta... no, Conchita, when we were in Las Haddas, Mexico. You might be able to get some information from her if you find her. He was supposedly working as an archaeologist down there, but we've already confirmed that was nothing but a lie."
"Got it. I'll get right on this. Give me a couple of days to gather as much as I can," he told her. He paused, then when he began to speak again concern etched his voice. "How bad is this, Laura?"
"Right now? Stalking, blackmail, attempted murder, battery, for starters."
"Of who? You or Steele?"
"Blackmail and attempted murder of him; battery and stalking of me. He has followed us from Mexico, to LA, London, Ireland and yesterday he showed up in Cannes," Laura sighed, then dropped her hand from her brow. "Murph, I'm scared."
Alarm bells began sounding in Murphy's brain. Never, in all the years he had known her, had Laura ever admitted being scared before.
"I'm on it, Laura. By the time I'm done we'll know the name of anyone who ever changed his diapers. When will you be back in LA?"
"We should be flying home Saturday, after London."
"Okay, expect a call from me Sunday. And Laura?"
"Yeah, Murph?"
"Don't let down your guard. I don't like the sound of this."
"I won't. Murph?"
"Yeah?"
"I really appreciate this."
"You know I'd do anything for you, Laura," Murphy told her sincerely.
"Say hi to Sherry and kiss the boys for me."
"Will do." Disconnecting the phone, she stood and went into the bedroom to begin the promised packing. Absently, she picked up piece of kiwi from the plate next to the bed and popped it into her mouth, then laughed lightly. Even after making love on the beach, Remington had insisted on getting a "proper meal" into her before he left for the casino. In short order he'd whipped up some scrambled eggs infused with fresh vegetables and a selection of cheeses, wheat toast with strawberry jam, and a healthy garnish of fresh fruit. He'd tucked into his plate, quickly polishing off the meal, then grabbed a quick shower before getting on the road, while she'd lingered over her own, savoring both the creation and the man that had made it, her eyes following him from bedroom, to bathroom and back again.
While she enjoyed every bit of the pure masculinity on display, it hadn't missed her attention that he appeared to be bordering on the edge of exhaustion. Certainly, the minimal sleep they'd gotten the night prior had contributed to it, as they'd walked their way through how to handle Roselli. Watching him dress, as she sat cross-legged on the bed draped in his pajama top again, her plate of food on her lap, she unconsciously smacked her lips as she admired a brief clad pair of sexy buns before her, then carefully blanked her face as he turned to look at her. She innocently picked up a piece of pineapple and took a bite out of it. With a shrug, he returned to dressing, though his curiosity had been more than a bit aroused.
Laura lips spread in a self-satisfied smirk, that she'd not been caught, flat out, with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, before returning to her ruminations over his current state. I imagine I hold a fair share of the responsibility for that. Can you blame a girl? She snorted quietly, remembering when years before when she'd shared with Frances a secret fantasy.
"I too have dreams. Warm, sensuous dreams. I walk into a dark room, and a deep bath of chocolate awaits me. I lower myself into it. I'm covered in chocolate. And I discover what the pursuit of happiness means."
Little did I know that making love with him would be like swimming in a sea of chocolate: he's all rich tastes, heady scents, and decadent sensations. Her tongue flicked out and touched a lip, as she laughed quietly to herself. Glancing back over to the closet for another peek at him, she found him leaning with a shoulder against the wall, grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. Damn, caught red-handed, after all.
"Dare I ask what's on your mind, Mrs. Steele?" he asked, bemused. Laura lifted sultry brown eyes to him even as she flashed him a cocky little smile. If you think I'm going to give you the upper hand and admit it, you've got another thing coming, she thought to herself.
"Chocolate," she dead-panned. His expression flattened for a second, caught off-guard by her answer, then he laughed deeply.
"Of course you were," he grinned, slipping into his jacket as he walked across the room towards her. He tipped up her chin with a single finger, then leaned down brushing his lips against hers before settling in for one of those tender kisses that made her toes curl. "Don't think about… chocolate… too much while I'm gone," he teased. Then with another quick kiss, prepared to leave. "Be back soon."
Despite his good-humor, she hadn't missed the weariness that showed itself around his eyes, in the way he held his shoulders. Now, as she folded up the last of their clothes, zipping up the suitcase afterwards, she ruminated on the matter. He had always required more sleep than she did, and by her estimation he'd gotten less sleep then her, likely by half, during the three days they'd been in Cannes. He'd made it a point to lull her to sleep with gentle strokes of his hands during the early morning hours when their bodies could sustain their desire no longer, and by the time she woke, he'd already have breakfast prepped and ready to cook. With a small frown, she wondered how he was even keeping on his feet at this point.
And in recognizing that, she made a unilateral decision that would bring their plans for his homecoming to a screeching halt. The only question that remained was how to implement what she had in mind.
Remington wiped a hand across bloodshot eyes, forcing them wide open. The lack of sleep hadn't bothered him on the way to the Casino. Indeed, he'd been at the top of his game when, with a discrete exchange of a small sum of cash, he'd finagled a copy of the video tape out of a security guard. It was not until the return drive to the villa that his weariness caught up to him. After several nights of making love with his lovely wife until shortly before dawn, only to pry himself out of bed to see to it she had breakfast waiting for her when she rose, the drive home along the coast proved to have as sedative an effect on him as Laura's small hands brushing rhythmically up and down his side. If that same lovely wife were not at the villa, right now, waiting for his return so they could pick up where they'd left off on the beach, he'd crawl under the covers for a full forty winks. But knowing that she was? Well, his body was already telling his brain that sleep would have to wait until their flight to Greece.
By the time he turned the car down the driveway at the villa, he'd watched the thought of sleep disappear in the rearview mirror sometime before. Unfolding his long legs from the small sports car, he walked down the front walk with a bit of pep in his step at the thought of what the rest of the morning would bring. Opening the door, he called out for her. When only silence greeted him, he grinned, suspecting she'd decided to sneak in a nap before he returned. His smile only widened when he thought of waking her in a most delicious manner.
Entering their bedroom, he stilled in the doorway. The room was cloaked in darkness, drapes drawn and blankets strung in front of those to prevent any seepage of light into the room. Two pillar candles, lit on a bedside table provided the only light in the room and soft jazz wafted through the room. Laura had turned the air conditioning down, and the room was cool and crisp. It was the first time he could ever recall that she'd taken the initiative to set the scene for romance. His heart did a funny little flip-flop in his chest, he was so touched by her actions. The woman responsible for all of this, however, was conspicuously absent.
"Laura?" he called out for her, as he walked through the bedroom towards the bathroom.
"Strip down to your shorts and stretch out," she called from in the bathroom. "I'll be right there. I have a little something planned." A brow raised and a smile lifted his lips at her words. Without hesitation he stripped down and stretched out on his back on the bed. His eyes followed her as she entered the room, robed only in one of his shirts, and crossed it to close the bedroom door. He gave her a curious look even as she approached the bed, to stand next to it. She stroked her fingertips along his cheek.
"Turn over onto your stomach, sweetheart," she directed him. Remington's brain turned to mush at the endearment. It was only the second time Laura had ever referred to him in such a manner and knowing she had let down her walls far enough with him even to do so did remarkable things to a heart that had so often wondered if she'd ever allow him completely in. His own defenses down, both due to emotion and exhaustion, he told her as much.
"Ah, Laura, when you call me that… I can't even explain what it does to me." Laura climbed onto the bed, then straddled his body, perching herself of his bottom. She smiled, then ran her fingers through his hair, before settling in and massaging his scalp. He let out a soft rumble of approval. "That feels splendid, love." She smiled, and leaning over pressed her lips to the base of his neck.
"I imagine it makes you feel the same as I do when you call me 'love'… or 'babe' when we're making love." Her breath tickled his ear where she spoke next to it, before sitting back up. "Tell me about the casino."
"Easier than I even expected actually. A little incentive and I had the tape in hand in a matter of minutes." He tried to suppress a yawn and failed. "The guard assured me it clearly shows what happened with Roselli." Her hands slid out of his hair to move across his shoulders. He moaned lightly when her fingers found a particularly tight spot. She settled in to work it out. "And Murphy?"
"He's on it. He'll call us Sunday morning and fill us in on what he finds." He nodded and shifted slightly beneath her, finding better purchase on the bed and his pillow, his eyes closing. She smiled and smoothed her fingers down his shoulders over his back, settling into a rhythm meant to relax, to lull. "You never told me how your conversation went with Elena last night," she reminded him. He hummed beneath her.
"How do you feel about gettin' married on the terrace, overlookin' the Aegean, at sunset night after next?" His words were spoken with some effort, the Irish accent he'd intentionally left behind long ago tracing throughout the words. Both what he said, and the inflection in his voice drew a sigh from her. Pressing another kiss against the base of his neck, she slid her hand under his shoulders pressing her to him in a hug. This time, it was he who sighed.
"It think it's a perfect idea, and a perfect setting," she answered, pushing herself back up and resuming the rhythmic stroking. "And Ioseph?" He nodded his head in answer, even as he yawned again.
"Elena will make certain 'e officiates." He breathed in deeply and let it out. "Love, if you keep this up, we won't be resumin' any honeymoonin' for a while," he murmured sluggishly.
"That's the plan, Rem. You need sleep," she answered him quietly. It took a moment to register, but when it did, his heart clenched in his chest. Laura Holt… no, Laura Steele, is taking care of me, as I try to do for her when she allows. The thought overwhelmed, and he stumbled, his sleep fogged, emotionally saturated brain unable to find the words. Instead, a hand found hers.
"Ah, Laura, come here," he urged, turning onto his side, as she slid off him and into his waiting arms. Pressing her to him, her face nestled to his chest, he slid a leg between hers, even as her hand slid over his waist to his back to continue the rhythmic stroking. He inhaled her scent deeply, a shimmer passing through his body as he did. She felt it under her hand, against her body. "What 'ave I done to deserve you, eh?"
"You kept loving me, no matter what," she answered quietly, pressing a kiss now against his throat.
"That I did, love, and it won't be changin'," he mumbled as he drifted off. Snuggling into him, she reached down and pulled the sheet up over them, then allowed herself to simply enjoy his scent, the feel of his long lean body against her small frame.
Long minutes later, she realized what had kept her returning to him across the years, even as she would try to push him away. He keeps me safe. My body. My heart. Then admitted the truth of the words she'd spoken aloud. He keeps loving me, in spite of myself. Nuzzling her face against him, she slid her hand down and held it against his chest, feeling the steady thrumming of his heart beneath her fingers. Her last thought before she fell asleep left her smiling.
So much better than chocolate…