“Remember…” Dean pointed at Nick. “It’s illegal to kill her.” He held his serious expression for a few seconds, then chuckled. He shook off the laughter, then added, “Call me later.” He pointed at Nick again. “If you don’t, I’ll coming looking for you.”
Nick knew what he meant. Dean had always wondered how Nick had managed to stay so strong after his brother had succumbed to drugs and his mother to cancer.
Nick had often wondered that too. But each day he kept getting up and living life. He’d always been a survivor. But now the real test would come. And Nick Matthews had no idea how he was going to get through this.
Nick figured the best place to start looking for Ginny was the house. She had, after all, banned him from coming around for the last week. Now he was really wondering why?
He pulled into the driveway, hit the garage door opener that was clasped to the visor and waited for the door to open. Instead of rolling on into the garage, he shifted into park, jumped out of the truck and trotted into the house through the garage.
Inside the laundry room, the washer and dryer were gone. What the…? crossed Nick’s mind as he passed through and on into the kitchen. The only appliances left in there were the stove and the dishwasher, and they belonged to the landlord. All the little knickknacks Ginny had on the counters were gone. He opened one cabinet, then two. Both were empty.
He wasn’t surprised to find the dining and living rooms stripped of everything but a few pieces of trash on the floor.
Standing in the middle of the living room, he did a slow one-eighty. Even the walls were bare.
What the hell?
After a quick inspection of the house, the only room that hadn’t been completely emptied out was the bedroom. But there wasn’t much left in there. Nick’s clothes from the dresser had been dumped onto the middle of the floor. The closet doors were slid open. Only his clothes remained inside. All of Ginny’s were gone.
Nick thought about the few pieces of furniture he’d inherited from his mother a few years ago. Ginny hadn’t wanted those hand-me-downs in the house. He was glad now that he’d stored his mother’s things in the loft over the restaurant, along with all of his stuff. Ginny hadn’t wanted any of it in the house. Not his Dodgers memorabilia. Not his mother’s collection of depression glass. And not his brother’s surfing regalia.
She’d made him go out and buy all new furnishings, and now she’d taken every single bit of it. Truth be told, he wasn’t going to miss those hideous drapes that she’d hung over the windows in their bedroom. Each panel was a damn different color. Brown, blue, green…and together it was ugly. The cold, hard fact was that Ginny didn’t have a lick of fashion sense, not when it came to home décor.
Nick trudged back into the living room and parked himself on the stone bench in front of the fireplace. The only other alternative was the floor, and he really needed to sit down.
A sudden coldness hit Nick at the core of his heart. Good riddance to her and all that crap she took with her.
Now Ginny’s odd idiosyncrasies during the past few months, and especially the last couple of weeks, were starting to make sense. No wonder she’d wanted him out of the house last week. And to think she’d said it was because she wanted their wedding night to feel like they were real newlyweds.
He sucked in a gallon of courage, enough to give him the mental strength to sustain him in case she came crawling back.
Yeah, right! Nick laughed at himself for being such a fool. He tried to shake away his stupidity, although doubting that he could accomplish it.
He pushed himself up to head for the garage. He was going to go see Dean. Maybe he could get him to help move some of his things over from the loft above Hang Ten.
Nick Matthews was going to move on if it killed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marseilles, France
JULIAN DE LAURENT, BRIEFCASE IN HAND, puttered along the hallway toward the second floor entry of Pacifique de Lumière. He checked his watch. 7:30 AM. Good, he had plenty of time to get to the office if he left now.
“Julian…?” Claudette’s sweet voice—the one she always used to lull people in when she wanted something—drifted up behind him.
He stopped, sucked in a breath, then turned to greet his stepmother. “Claudette.” He smiled. “How nice to see you before I leave for work.”
“Oh, never mind all that, Julian.” She shook her head and paused at his side. “We have to talk.”
“About?”
“Your father.”
Uh oh. What’s he done now? Julian glanced at his watch again. “All right.” He guided her toward the small salon just down the hall. “I have a few minutes to spare.”
They went into the room, but Claudette didn’t speak until Julian closed the door.
“What’s Papa gotten you so excited over?” Julian asked. He could’ve used a more appropriate term, like angry, but why invite trouble?
“He wants Lecie to come home.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Julian chuckled. “Did you remind him that she’s just as immovable as he is?”
Claudette nodded. “He’s an obstinate man, though.”
“Well…” Julian was enjoying this far too much. “It’s not as if he can cut her off.” He’d learned that one from Camille. He’d have to remember to say it directly to Papa. That’d drive him nuts. “And Papa has no one to blame but himself.”
“You know your father well enough to know…” Claudette shook her head. “He will not relent so easily.”
Julian agreed with an expressive nod. It’d take a lot more than Papa’s inability to cut Lecie off financially to keep him from meddling in her life. “Any idea what he’s planning?”
“I think he’s going to try to have her deported.” Claudette signed heavily. “He thinks that will force her to come home. But let’s face it…if he angers her, she will do anything but.”
Damn it, Papa! Why must you? Julian had a feeling that this could turn out much worse than Papa could ever imagine. “I thought he would’ve have learned by now,” Julian said with a slow, disbelieving shake of the head. “But as you well know, once Papa gets started, there’s not much anyone can do to stop him.”
“I was thinking…” Claudette glanced down at the floor, then slowly lifted her gaze back to meet Julian’s. “More along the lines of talking to your sister. See if it’s possible to stop her from making a bad situation worse.”