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“My friends care about me, Doctor. But we’re hardly friends.”
“Really?”
“That’s another question.”
“Sorry.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Why aren’t we friends?”
“We don’t know each other,” Destiny said with a little laugh. “Maybe we would have been friends. That isn’t the point. I don’t understand why you’ve made me your cause du jour.”
“You aren’t a cause. You’re a woman with a serious problem.”
As she digested his answer, she wasn’t quite sure whether she liked it or not. “I’m a woman used to solving her own problems.”
“I’m sure you are,” Wesley told her easily. “But there’s no crime in asking for help. Especially when it’s freely offered.”
“Nothing in life is free, Doctor.”
“Very cynical,” he observed. “Care to expound?”
“Not particularly. Suffice it to say that I strongly believe that you have to pay for everything in one way or another.”
“I believe you’ve just simplified the dynamics of karma into a cross-stitch sampler.”
“Cute,” Destiny remarked, feeling herself relax. “Beneath that professional exterior lives a wicked sense of humor.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe. Besides, I’m not keen on any more competition.”
“Do you constantly look over your shoulder for the next shining star?”
Destiny smiled and captured her hair in her fist as the car accelerated out of the city. “I try never to look back. It isn’t healthy.”
“Are you always this evasive?” Wesley queried.
“I guess it’s been a long time since I carried on a conversation with anyone other than Gina or David.”
“Very limited. Too limited for such a beautiful young woman.”
“Thanks, I think. You certainly are good at giving backhanded compliments.”
“Sorry. Must be Rose’s influence.”
“She seems like a very nice lady. Very real.”
“Except for her delusions about Elvis Presley and her passion for wearing animal prints.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a flamboyant personal style or an appreciation of the King.”
“I agree. But I’ll admit it was something of a shock to discover my mother looked and acted like a reject from some BBC comedy.”
“What do you mean, discover?”
“I’ve only recently reestablished a relationship with Rose. Mostly because of my brother, J.D. He and his wife went back to Florida shortly after they were married.”
“He’s the guy who did the dependency?” she asked.
Wesley nodded. “He and Tory—that’s his wife—had some trouble with the renovations.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“They found a body shorn up in the wall.”
“Yuk!” Destiny said with a groan. “Thanks for sharing that with me. It will make standing on that stage really comfortable.”
“It wasn’t a body, actually. It was a skeleton. And everything worked out in the end.”
“Sounds peachy,” Destiny managed to say. “Anything else you’d like to share with me?”
“I could tell you about Chad’s kidnapping, but I’ll save that for another time.”
“Chad? Isn’t that Agent Tanner’s son?”
“Yep.”
“Is The Rose Tattoo cursed, or something?”
“Nothing so sinister,” Wes assured her. “Just a bad year or so for the locals.”
“I guess if my admirer shows up, he’ll be in good company here in Charleston. That’s something.”
“Calm down, Destiny. The guy in the wall was the former owner. And the Tanners’ son was returned safely to his very grateful, albeit overly indulgent, parents.”
“And everyone lived happily ever after,” she said as they parked in front of the villa.
“Absolutely,” he answered holding her door open.
“Then I guess I should feel relieved that I’m here.”
“Maybe not,” Wes said, nodding his head in the direction of the door to her villa.
“Great!” Destiny fumed as she spotted the large, crudely wrapped package guarding the entrance.
“Wait a second!” she heard Wesley call out. Determination and a fair amount of anger fueled each step. “I can’t believe he found out where I was staying.”
“I think we should call Dylan.”
Destiny tore into the paper expecting flowers. But it wasn’t flowers.
Chapter Five
“Don’t touch it,” Wesley instructed as he gathered her against him, his eyes fixed on the weird thing.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. “I have no desire to touch that.”
She remained against him while he dug into her purse, got her keys and led her into the villa. “We’ll call Dylan, and I think we should consider calling the police.”
“And tell them what?” she asked, tilting her face upward. “I’ve been down this road already. The authorities can’t do anything until this fruitcake actually threatens me,” she said as she pushed away from him and moved across the room.
He leaned against the counter as silent rage welled inside him. “What he did to that doll is somewhat threatening.”
She shivered and ran her hands along the bared flesh of her arms. Her expression was guarded—only her eyes gave him an insight to her true feelings. What he saw in her eyes was a blend of fear and disbelief. Wesley intellectualized the disbelief, but his response to the fear was more primitive, more primal. Despite the inherent strength he sensed in Destiny, he also believed there was a fair amount of vulnerability buried beneath the surface. Not a helpless vulnerability, but a vulnerability born of determination.
“I don’t understand,” he said, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
She nervously twisted several strands of hair around one long, tapered finger. “I spoke to a police officer in Miami. They told me that until this guy does something more overtly threatening than sending flowers, there’s nothing they can do.”
“That’s crazy!”
“That’s the law,” she told him with a sad smile. “Basically, this lunatic has to hurt me before the police can do anything.”
“Maybe it’s different here in South Carolina.”
“I doubt it.”
Wesley reached over and snatched the phone from its cradle. He punched numbers in stiff, irate succession. “Hello.”
“Shelby, Wesley. Is Dylan around?”
“He’s at the office. Why?”
“Destiny got another delivery.”
“More flowers?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“A doll.”
“Why does a doll have you so upset?”
Wesley turned his back on Destiny and cupped his hand over the receiver. “It wasn’t the doll, really. It was what he did to the doll.”
“Which was?”
“He painted the face to look like hers. There was a gardenia stuck onto one of the hands.”
“Sounds sick,” Shelby commented.
“My thoughts exactly.” Wesley took a deep breath. “He left it at the villa. It’s obvious he’s watching her.”
He heard Destiny’s sharp intake of breath and instantly regretted voicing his suspicions aloud.
* * *
“DID YOU TOUCH IT?” Dylan asked as he squatted in front of the ghastly little trinket.
“No,” she answered as her eyes sought Wesley. “I haven’t played with dolls since I was a kid. And I’m not all that keen on playing with that one.”
“Now can we call the cops?” Wesley asked his friend.
“We can, but it won’t accomplish much,” Dylan admitted, with an apologetic smile to Destiny.
“How can that be?”
Dylan shrugged as he rose. “Local law requires a definitive threat.”
“What the hell does that look like to you?” Wes retorted.
“It’s a doll, Doctor,” Destiny explained in a soft voice. “Not a particularly flattering doll, but a doll, nonetheless. At best, the police will probably think it’s nothing more than a tasteless gift from a fan.”
“She’s right,” Dylan said as he placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “The best we can do is alert them to the problem, arrange for Destiny to stay someplace safe and have someone with her twenty-four hours a day.”
“Hold on,” she interrupted, feeling ignored by the two men. “I can’t just go into hiding. I have responsibilities, a club date. If I do as you suggest, this bozo wins. What kind of solution is that?”
Wesley and Dylan stared at her in obvious shock. Wesley spoke first. “You can’t just pretend this isn’t happening.”
“Oh, yes, I can,” Destiny assured him with a forced smile. “I won’t allow anyone to jerk my chain like this.”
“Be reasonable,” Wesley cautioned. “While I can respect your need to retain some control over your life, it would be foolish to go on as if this wasn’t happening.”
Blinking, Destiny looked up into his eyes and silently wondered if he knew what he was asking of her. It simply wasn’t possible. “It isn’t just about me,” Destiny explained. “If I go into hiding, what happens to Gina and David? Not to mention the fact that I don’t have much more than a few weeks’ worth of savings.”
“This isn’t about money,” Wesley countered.
“Really?” she asked as she lifted her hand and began counting off on her fingers. “I have to pay Gina and David, as well as my own living expenses. My father’s fines, court costs and requests for handouts come on a regular basis. My sister doesn’t think a thing of borrowing money from me, so don’t tell me it isn’t about money. I have responsibilities. People that depend on me.”
“They won’t be able to depend on you if something happens,” Wes argued.
Frustration swelled in her veins, bringing with it a surge of suppressed anger. “Nothing will happen to me,” she insisted. “I’ve never done anything in my life that would make someone want to harm me.”
“Apparently your admirer has a different opinion.”
“Why are you doing this?” she implored, looking up into his troubled blue eyes.
“I’m not the one doing this,” he explained in that even, calm tone that set her teeth on edge. “I’m only trying to make you realize that it doesn’t make sense to assign rational motives to an irrational individual.”
