Page 88 of The Best of Friends
They were in Blaine’s office in the Worden building. Andrew would handle the legal end of the mess, but David and Blaine had to come up with a way to silence Jonathan and keep Nigel away from Rebecca.
“Nigel and Rebecca have a history,” David said, reaching for his mug. “I warned her about him years ago, but you know Rebecca.”
“Not one to listen.”
“Not on purpose. From what I can tell, their relationship has been volatile. She moved to Italy to get away from him. He followed a few months later. When he wanted to get married, she didn’t, and so on.”
“We can’t let him mess with our baby girl.”
David thought about Nigel. While going after him with a bat and breaking a few bones would be satisfying in the moment, they needed a better plan.
“He’s married to Ariel Cunningham. The wedding was a few months ago.”
Blaine’s expression turned satisfied. “I know Ariel’s father. Eric isn’t a man who likes to be messed with. He’s killed men who have stolen his diamonds. Not that anything’s been proven.”
David wasn’t surprised. The rules were different in a diamond mine. Accidents happened.
“Have you seen the blue diamond?” Blaine asked.
“No.” He would like to, though. Blue diamonds were a once-in-a-lifetime sight.
Blaine pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “Want to flip for who gets to threaten whom? Or should we take care of the bastards together?”
David raised his mug. “I say we work together.”
“I agree.” His father chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I put the fear of God into anyone.”
“Seriously?”
“It was a long time ago. I was young and foolish.” He put the quarter back in his pocket. “Where do you think you got your wanderlust from? Your mother?”
“Good point, Dad. Now who was the last guy you threatened? I want to hear everything.”
But before Blaine could start the story, David’s cell phone rang. He picked it up.
“Hey, sis,” he said. “We were just talking about the men in your life. We—” He paused, listening to her, then hung up. He stared at his father. “The problem just got bigger.”
David knew Nigel well enough to guess he wouldn’t leave town until he’d found what he’d come for. A few calls to local hotels landed him the information that Nigel was registered at Shutters in Santa Monica—less than a mile from Rebecca’s rented condo.
“Got him,” he said, hanging up. “I asked to be put through to his room, and he picked up. So he’s there now.”
“Let’s go.”
They took Blaine’s Bentley, a dark blue monstrosity that had been cared for with the love and attention usually reserved for spoiled lapdogs.
“You’ve got to get a new car,” David said, running his hands along the smooth, butterlike leather. “This car is older than I am.”
“It’s a classic, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“You have to keep a mechanic on call.”
“I keep Raoul on salary so he’s always available if something goes wrong.”
“Which it does. Can you even get tires for this thing?”
“Of course. Your mother wants me to get a Mercedes. She hates this car.” Blaine grinned at him. “It’s a chick magnet at the beach.”
David laughed. “Tell me you’re not cruising PCH looking for hot girls.”
