Boiling Point (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 2) Read online

  He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Then, of course, you must go.” He turned back to Zoë. “Were you planning to take that little roller skate you drive?”

  She hesitated as if it were a trick question. “Um…yes.”

  He settled back in his chair. “I’d feel better if Dominic drove you in the Bentley. It’s bigger and heavier. It will be safer on the highway and has more room for your purchases.”

  Nick paused with his fork halfway to this mouth. His real duties required him to stay at Strathmoor, but as the ostensible chauffeur, he could hardly refuse a direct request to drive the client’s wife.

  Zoë narrowed her eyes at him, but when he shrugged, she turned back to Lyman with a nod. “Of course.”

  Nick searched his brain for an alternative. He was pretty sure he’d rather stick an icepick in his eye than spend a morning traipsing after Marian and Zoë, cooing over baby paraphernalia. “Maybe I could drop them off in front of the store then pick them up when they’re ready to come home.”

  Lyman took a long swallow of water. “I don’t know. It’s a long drive into the city and back, just to turn around and do it again.”

  “It would be good for the engine—a chance to blow out the cobwebs. I bet that car hasn’t seen the top side of thirty miles an hour in years. Besides, parking downtown is a nightmare. The ramps weren’t engineered for cars with a turning radius as wide as the Bentley’s. I wouldn’t want to scrape a fender, or worse.”

  Lyman shook his head. “No, no, we wouldn’t want that. All right, go ahead—as long as you have Marian home in time to rest before dinner.”

  “I can call him a half hour before we’re ready to leave,” Zoë volunteered. “So we don’t waste time waiting around.”

  Lyman appeared satisfied. “Good idea.” He picked up his fork and stabbed a bite of pork and apple. “Now let’s finish this delicious meal. I’m anxious to try out the elevator. Not only will it be good for Marian, but it will also be very useful for moving GRAMPA between floors. You’d be amazed how heavy he is.”

  To Nick’s relief, the elevator rumbled into motion as soon as Lyman pushed the button. It creaked and lurched a little, but nothing a good oiling wouldn’t solve. He gave the Prescotts a ride down to the basement then up to the second floor and back, and Lyman pronounced himself delighted.

  When they stopped at the main floor, Nick opened the brass grate to let them out. “I’ll grease the pulleys and cables tonight. By tomorrow she should be good as new.”

  Marian met his gaze with gratitude in her big, blue eyes. “Thank you so much, Nick. It will make getting around a lot easier for me, both before and after the baby arrives.”

  Her smile made every messy, frustrating minute of his work on the antique motor worthwhile. He hadn’t done much that left him with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment in the past year—not since his life went to hell and he left Detroit.

  ****

  The next morning Nick helped Marian and Zoë into the back seat of the grand ‘forty-six Bentley for the trip to downtown Chicago. While they settled and chattered about Marian’s shopping list, he popped an antacid and wished he’d brought ear plugs. It was bad enough leaving Lyman home alone, even for a couple of hours, but since he had no choice, all he could do was lock the doors, set the alarm system, and cross his fingers. An even bigger worry was the trip itself.

  In its day, the Bentley had been the height of luxury, but it drove like a tank and lacked all modern safety features. The thought of driving two women—one eight months pregnant—at highway speed down I-94 in traffic gave him heartburn. The car was in the best possible condition, and he was a highly experienced driver, but they probably would have been safer in the Mini.

  He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he pulled to the curb in front of the store and helped Marian out onto the sidewalk.

  She released his hand with a grin. “Thanks, Nick. I know you didn’t want to drive us, but I felt like a movie star in the back of that car.”

  “My pleasure. And don’t worry—I’ll get back to the house as quick as I can.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  Zoë glanced up from her phone and handed it to him. “Put your number in there, and I’ll call you when we’re nearly finished—probably sometime around two.”

  He did as she asked before handing it back. “I’ll be waiting on pins and needles.”

  Her eyes said, Are you always such a jerk? But her lips settled for, “Good.”

  Nick chuckled, got back in the car, and made it to Lake Forest in record time.

  He left the car in the driveway, since he’d be taking it out again soon, and climbed the steps to the back door. After fishing the key out of his pocket, he reached up to disarm the security system.

  The light was green.

  His heart thudded in his chest. He’d watched Zoë set the alarm before they left. He’d even congratulated himself for weaseling the code out of her. What if—

  He took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were no strange vehicles visible anywhere outside. Maybe the system had malfunctioned. He stuck the key in the lock and turned the knob. It was unlocked.

  His pulse picked up speed.

  Grabbing his Ruger LCR from the holster clipped to his belt, he burst through the door into the kitchen. A quick scan showed the room to be empty with everything exactly as they’d left it. His first priority was to locate Lyman, so he ran to the study.

  Empty.

  Next stop—the workshop.

  He eased the cellar door open, trying not to give himself away. With his weapon drawn, he tiptoed down the stairs until he could see Lyman standing at his workbench, wearing magnifying goggles and soldering a tiny circuit board. A glance around the room proved he was alone. Nick holstered his gun and adjusted his jacket to hide it. He clumped down the last three steps to announce his presence.

  Lyman turned and flipped up the goggles. “Ah, Dominic, did the Bentley give you any trouble?”

  “None at all, and the ladies seemed pretty excited when I dropped them off.”

  “Marian was looking forward to a girls’ day out. She’ll be so glad when that cast comes off and the baby’s born.” He sighed. “I know I should probably take her out more, but I’ve been so wrapped up in my work.”

  Nick didn’t know how to respond, so he moved to the other topic he wanted to discuss. “I noticed the back door was unlocked when I came in.”

  Lyman turned back to his project and adjusted his goggles. “I needed some wire from the garage. I didn’t seem to have the right gauge down here. I must have forgotten to lock the door after I returned.”

  “That’s fine.” It wasn’t, but what could he say? “I’ll lock it and set the alarm when I leave to pick up the ladies.”

  Lyman didn’t reply. He had re-immersed himself in his micro-electronic world.

  Nick shook his head and went back upstairs. He didn’t pretend to understand the scientific mind, and that was fine.

  At noon, he took Lyman a ham sandwich with potato salad then ate alone in the kitchen. He was more than ready when Zoë called at two-thirty to say she and Marian would be ready to come home in a half hour. With Lyman toiling silently in the basement and the women out of the house, Nick had felt like the lone occupant of a cavernous mausoleum.

  Thirty minutes later, he picked Marian and Zoë up where he’d dropped them off, but this time they were accompanied by a mountain of packages.

  He glanced from the pile to the storefront. “Where’s the Going-Out-Of-Business sign?”

  Marian laughed. “There’s still plenty left inside.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She grinned at Zoë. “I didn’t even buy everything I wanted, did I?”

  Zoë smiled and picked up the smallest box. “We can always come back.”

  Nick opened the back door and helped Marian into the car then loaded her purchases into the trunk. After helping with the packages, Zoë climbed in be
side her. The drive home began with lots of conversation about all the adorable this-that-and-the-others at Le Bébé Élégant and the wonderful food at Lucy’s Kitchen, but the back seat fell silent by the time they reached Evanston. When Nick glanced in the rear view mirror, his gaze met Zoë’s. She smiled and tipped her head. When he adjusted the mirror, he saw Marian had fallen asleep. She only awoke when they pulled into the driveway and stopped to open the gate. Nick parked in back as close to the porch as possible to make unloading more efficient.

  Zoë popped out as soon as he turned off the engine. “I’ll get the door.” She bounded up the steps, rummaged in her bag until she found her key, then raised her gaze to the alarm panel.

  Nick was helping Marian out of the car when he heard his name. He straightened to find Zoë glaring at him from the back porch.

  “You forgot to re-arm the system when you left to pick us up.”

  “I didn’t forget.” He slipped his hands through the handles of several shopping bags then lifted a stack of three boxes.

  “Well, it’s not on now, and the door’s unlocked.”

  He straightened and peered over the top box. Despite Lyman’s assurances, he must have forgotten the lock and alarm again. Unless he chose to engage, the man had the attention span of a gnat. “Lyman must have gone out to the garage again for more wire. Don’t worry about it.”

  He followed Marian up the steps and into the kitchen. “Where do you want this stuff?”

  “You can take it up to the nursery, but first I want to show Lyman what we bought.” She turned to Zoë. “I hope he won’t freak out when he sees all these packages.”

  “Not a chance.” She unzipped her jacket and stuffed her gloves into the pockets. “He’s at least as excited about the baby as you are.”

  Marian’s lips curved in a sweet smile. “That’s true.”

  Nick set his load on the kitchen table. “I’ll get the rest.”

  “I’m going to find Lyman. He’s probably his workshop. He’s always in his workshop.” Marian opened the basement door and stuck her head in. “Lyman, are you down there?”

  “Yes, dear, but don’t come down right now.”

  Nick stopped half-way across the kitchen. Lyman’s voice sounded strange—edgy and higher-pitched than usual.

  Marian turned to Nick and Zoë with a huff and an eye roll. “I hate having to yell at him down these darned stairs.” She took two steps down the stairs then shouted again. “Then you come up. I want to show you want we bought.”

  “Stay right there.” Lyman’s words were rushed and his voice strained. “I…I can’t come up right now. I’m…uh…in the middle of something.”

  Nick had heard the sound of fear enough times to recognize it. He pushed past Zoë and started down the stairs. When he stopped behind Marian, she turned worried eyes in his direction.

  “Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll go.”

  She nodded.

  He slipped past her and inched his way down, step by step, praying the old wood wouldn’t creak and give him away. A few feet from the bottom he crouched and scanned the room. Lyman hovered next to GRAMPA in front of his work bench. Ten feet away a figure dressed all in black and wearing a ski mask waved a pistol at him.

  “Give me the plans,” the man demanded in an odd, growly voice.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Lyman’s voice shook.

  “I want the drawings—the blueprints, or whatever you call them—to that thing over there.” He waved the pistol at GRAMPA. “Now.”

  The man advanced until his weapon was only a few inches from Lyman’s chest. Nick reached behind his waist, drew his gun from the holster, and aimed for the center of the intruder’s back.

  “Drop your weapon,” he ordered.

  As the gunman turned his head, Lyman shouted, “Brȗlée!”

  GRAMPA scanned the top of the workbench, picked up a compact kitchen torch with one pincer and a lighter with the other. At the clicking sound of flints striking, the attacker turned and all three men stared as the robot lit the torch.

  Lyman pointed at the man in black. “Brȗlée!”

  GRAMPA rolled toward the man with the flaming torch pointed directly at his face.

  The intruder stared as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What the—?”

  Nick had reached the bottom of the stairs and shouted, “Drop your weapon. Now!”

  “Lyman!”

  Startled by the cry almost in his ear, Nick spun to find Marian peering over Zoë’s shoulder directly behind him. “Get back upstairs. Call the police.”

  At the mention of the word police, the gunman frantically scanned the room for an avenue of escape. The women still blocked the stairs, staring in horror at the scene below. With Nick advancing from one side, pistol drawn, and GRAMPA approaching relentlessly from the other with a flaming torch, he appeared to be out of options.

  Suddenly, he bolted for the elevator, waving his gun. “Get back! Get back!”

  Dragging the metal gate across the opening, he slammed his fist against the button. As the outer door closed, Nick rushed forward.

  Bang!

  The reverberation of the gunshot in the stone-walled basement dazed him for a moment. He shook his head to stop the spinning, but his ears still roared, and everything around him seemed to move in slow motion. The man in the elevator had disappeared. Across the room, Lyman staggered to his feet.

  “Are you hurt?” Nick’s voice sounded hollow and muffled to his own ears.

  Lyman brushed a hand across his forehead, leaving a small smear of blood then glanced at his hand. “Only a cut, probably from a chip of stone from the ricochet. But Marian—”

  When Nick turned, he saw the women huddled at the bottom of the steps. Zoë had thrown her body across Marian, and still had her arms wrapped around her.

  He rushed over and squatted beside them. “Are you two okay?”

  Zoë nodded.

  He pushed to his feet. “Stay here. Don’t come up until I give the all clear.”

  She nodded again and slowly released Marian. By that time Lyman had joined them, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He reached for his wife, and they clung together. Nick exchanged a glance with Zoë then crept up the stairs.

  The intruder was likely long gone, but it didn’t pay to take chances. He moved through the house quietly and methodically, clearing each room in turn. As soon as he was satisfied the house was empty, he phoned the police then called for the others to join him in the kitchen.

  Lyman looked like he’d stepped off the railroad tracks just before a train roared through. His wispy curls sprung from his head at a dozen angles, his eyes were round with shock, and his shirt hung partially untucked.

  Nick settled both Prescotts at the kitchen table. “The police will be here soon.” He glanced at Zoë. “Why don’t you make some tea?”

  “Of course.” She crossed to the sink to fill the kettle.

  Nick pulled up a chair across from Lyman and regarded his dazed expression. He wanted to ask a few questions before the police arrived and took charge, but he wasn’t sure the man was ready to answer them.

  “Lyman.”

  Lyman stared at Nick for a moment as if trying to focus. “Yes?”

  Nick tried to frame his questions without sounding judgmental or accusatory. “Do you have any idea how that man got in the house?”

  Lyman shook his head. “No. I’ve been busy in the workshop all day.”

  Zoë brought the hot tea, two cups at a time, and joined them at the table.

  “I’ve been working on adding voice commands to GRAMPA,” Lyman continued. “Since the purée went so well, I wanted to try brȗlée.” He turned to his wife. “I wanted to surprise you with crème brȗlée tonight. I know how much you like it.”

  Marian pulled him close and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “And you did a wonderful job. GRAMPA brȗléed perfectly.”

  Nick cleared his throat. “We noticed the door was unlocked
and the alarm disabled when we got home.”

  Lyman raised his head. “I’m afraid that was my fault. I needed more wire. I guess I forgot to lock up when I came back inside.”

  He looked so morose and repentant, Nick felt sorry for him. “I’d be happy to carry any supplies to your workshop. Tomorrow you can show me what you need.”

  “Thank you.” Lyman ran a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I have trouble planning ahead. I’ll get an idea that takes me in another direction and…” His voice trailed off as he stared through the back window.

  Slowly, he straightened and turned to Nick with a clear, sharp gaze. “Now there’s something I’d like to ask you, Dominic. Why do you carry a gun?”

  Nick’s thoughts raced as he scrambled for an answer.

  Zoë leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “Yes, Dominic, tell us. Why do you carry a gun?”

  Chapter Eight

  Zoë couldn’t wait to hear his response to her question.

  “I’m fully licensed, and the gun is registered.” Nick turned his attention to Lyman. “I had it with me because I was driving the ladies downtown. Chicago can be a dangerous city.”

  Zoë gave a huff of disbelief. The evidence against him just kept piling up. Lyman hadn’t known about Nick’s gun and certainly hadn’t asked him to carry it. No professional chauffeur would carry a weapon on duty except at the express direction of his employer. Besides, the Magnificent Mile of Michigan Avenue boasted more cops per block than the entire police forces of some small towns.

  Nick shot her a glare then turned back to Lyman. “I knew you would want them to be well-protected, and it always pays to be prepared.”

  She rolled her eyes. So now the man’s a fricking boy scout.

  Lyman nodded. “I do feel better, knowing you were armed. Considerably better, in fact—especially in light of what happened here.”

  Zoë choked back an objection. She’d been armed, too. Was Lyman no longer confident she could protect his wife?

  The faint chime of the doorbell interrupted any further conversation.

  Nick jumped up. “Sit tight. I’ll get it.”