Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Miguel

Well, now we have our motive. Someone’s terrorizing Ruby to get access to her trust fund. And who would want to do that? For starters, it would have to be someone who knows about her trust fund. Someone like the guy who’s been collecting her mail. “Does Darren know about your trust fund?”

“No.” Ruby shakes her head. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“So, who knows about the money?”

“My dad, of course,” she says. “And Edward. He’s the trustee.”

“No one else? Not any other friends or family members?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have any friends. Neither of my parents has any siblings, and my grandparents have passed, so there really isn’t any other family. I suppose my dad might have told someone, maybe one of his friends or a colleague. It’s not a secret.”

I run my fingers through my hair and blow out a breath. This is about the money. I know it is. Someone’s angling to get control of her inheritance. My bet is still on Darren. If he’d managed to get her to date him, and eventually marry him, he’d have access to her money. “Has Darren ever asked you out on a date?”

I can tell by the shocked look on her face that the answer is yes.

She shrugs. “A few times.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I said no.”

My mind is racing through all of the implications. “Have any of the envelopes you received from your attorney ever arrived opened or damaged?”

She looks thoughtful. “One of them looked like it got chewed up in the automatic sorter at the post office. The envelope was mangled and taped shut when I got it. But that happens sometimes.”

“Or,” I counter, “Darren opened it himself and made it look like it had been shredded at the post office. If he did, then he knows about your trust fund.”

Ruby starts to object, then stops. “I suppose it’s possible.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you have a stalker and you’re about to become a very wealthy woman.” I grab my phone. “I need to call Shane.”

“Hey, Miguel,” Shane says as he takes my call. “How’s everything going with Ruby?”

“There have been some significant developments.” I tell him about the car alarm last night and the two guys who jumped me.

“Are you injured?”

“Just minor cuts, abrasions, and a black eye. I’m fine. Shane, did Edward McCall mention to you that Ruby is going to receive a trust fund when she turns twenty-five? That’s in two months.”

“A trust fund?” He sounds surprised. “No, he never mentioned it. How much money are we talking about?”

“A lot, Shane. Enough to motivate someone to take desperate measures to try to gain control of her assets.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“Five hundred million dollars.”

Shane whistles. “Half a billion, with a b? I’m surprised Edward didn’t mention that. This changes everything.”

“I’d say we found the motive.”

“I think you’re probably right. So, who knows about the money?”

“Allen Foster knows, as well as Edward, as he’s the trustee. Ruby says she hasn’t told anyone. I have a strong suspicion that Ruby’s neighbor, Darren Ingles, knows. He’s been on my radar screen since I arrived. I think he resents my presence in Ruby’s life. I wouldn’t rule him out as a suspect.”

“I’ll have a talk with Edward and Allen. We need to know who else knows about the money, because there’s our list of suspects.”

“Agreed. People do crazy things when it comes to money.”

“I’ll do some digging into Allen Foster’s finances. In the meanwhile, sit tight and keep doing what you’re doing. Keep an eye out for more trouble as the stakes just increased significantly.”

“Will do.”

I end the call with Shane, then get on my laptop to do a little digging of my own, into Ruby’s father and godfather.

* * *

That evening, after the dinner dishes are done and the kitchen’s been cleaned up, Ruby and I decide to watch a movie—Black Panther. She drops down on the sofa, careful to leave a good two feet of open space between us. I think she’s still self-conscious about the kiss we shared.

“Let’s order coffee,” she suggests, giving me a hopeful smile. “There’s a coffee shop two blocks away that makes the best iced coffee concoctions ever. They’re like dessert.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.”

She’s already on her phone placing an order. “What would you like?”

“Anything with caramel,” I say. “Surprise me.”

“Done.” She smiles as she taps away on her phone. “Mocha peppermint with chocolate sprinkles and whipped cream for me.”

As we start the movie, Pumpkin jumps up on the sofa and curls into a ball between us, purring so loudly Ruby has to turn up the volume on the TV.

Thirty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” I say as I jump up from the sofa. When I glance out the peephole, I’m surprised to see Darren standing there holding our drinks. Asshole. I open the door and glance down the hall. “What are you doing with those? Where’s the delivery driver?”

He shrugs. “I was just coming in from work when he arrived. I asked if they were for Ruby—I figured they were as she orders from them a lot. He said yes, so I offered to bring them up. It’s no problem. I was coming this way anyway.” He hands me the cups.

“Thanks,” I say automatically.

Darren peers through the open door, undoubtedly looking for Ruby. When he spots her sitting on the sofa, he waves. “Hi, Ruby.”

She waves back. “Hi, Darren.”

“Goodbye, Darren,” I say. Using my foot, I close the door in his face. Asshole.

“Here you go,” I say, handing Ruby her cup. “Mocha Peppermint.” The drinks aren’t hard to tell apart because our names are written on the disposable cups in black permanent pen. Plus, hers has a mountain of melting whipped cream and sprinkles beneath the domed plastic lid. Mine doesn’t. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Darren delivered our drinks to the apartment?”

“Not really,” she says. “He’s done it before. He’s just trying to be helpful.”

That’s not how I see it. I think he’s being presumptuous and territorial. Or maybe I’m the one being territorial. I glance at Ruby just in time to see her take a sip of her drink.

“Mm,” she says. She pulls her straw out and licks the whipped cream off it.

Immediately, my dick hardens. Yeah, I’ve got it bad for her.

Ruby picks up the remote and resumes the movie while I sit down. I have to shift in my seat to relieve the pressure on a very inconvenient erection. My mind isn’t on the movie, though. It’s bugging the hell out of me that Darren delivered the coffees to us. The suspicious part of my brain is working overtime. Or maybe it’s the jealous part. “Do you order coffee from this shop a lot?”

Ruby nods. “More than I should. They’re my guilty pleasure.” She takes another sip. Again she pulls her straw out of her cup to lick the whipped cream, getting some of it on her upper lip in the process.

Watching her lick her straw only heightens my arousal. I can’t help imagining her tongue licking—okay, just stop it. Pay attention to the movie.

Ruby takes a long, leisurely sip before setting her cup on the coffee table. “How do you like yours?”

I try my iced caramel latte, and I’m pleasantly surprised. “It’s good. Really good.”

Pumpkin stands and jumps onto the coffee table, flicks his tail, and knocks Ruby’s drink over in the process.

“Crap!” When I jump to my feet, Pumpkin bolts from the room, disappearing into Ruby’s bedroom. I run to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. As I’m mopping up the puddle of coffee, which is running off the table onto the rug beneath, I notice Ruby is just sitting there, leaning back against the sofa cushions, staring in the direction of the TV screen. She doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by her spilled drink puddling on the floor. “Ruby?”

I pat her knee. “Ruby?” When she doesn’t respond, warning bells go off in my head. I switch on the lamp on the end table and look her in the eyes. “Ruby?” I shake her gently, but get no reaction. My anxiety skyrockets as I grip her chin and make her look at me. “Talk to me, honey.”

Ruby’s head lolls back, and she stares up at me with glassy eyes. “Miguel?” Her voice is slurred. She starts to reach out to me, but her hand falls limply to her lap. “Wha—” She starts shaking, and I notice sweat beading on her forehead.

Shit!

I grab my phone and call 911. While the call is connecting, I send a text message to Shane.

Me – Ruby’s ill. Calling 911. Taking her to ER

Shane – I’ll meet you there

When the 911 operator answers, I give her Ruby’s address and all the information she asks for. “Caucasian female, 24 years old, approximately five-seven, one hundred thirty pounds. She’s unresponsive, shaking, sweating.” I eye her spilled coffee cup. “I think she’s been drugged.”

The operator asks me what she took.

“She didn’t take anything, but she just drank some coffee from a local coffee shop, and I think it might have been spiked with something. As soon as she took a few sips, she zoned out on me.”

I continue trying to get Ruby’s attention, to get her to respond to me, but she’s barely conscious. When she does try to say something, the syllables come out slurred and unintelligible.

“Stay on the phone with me, sir,” the operator says. “I’m sending a squad to your location.”

While we wait for the EMTs, I sit with Ruby, holding her in my arms as she continues to shake. She’s mumbling, but I can’t make out any of the words. I feel utterly helpless. The only thing I can do is hold her. “It’s okay, honey. Help’s on the way.” I press my lips to the crown of her head. “Just hang in there. You’re going to be all right.” But even as I say that, I wonder who I’m trying to console—her or myself.

My stomach knots with fear.

Ten long, interminable minutes pass before there’s a knock at our door. Carefully I release Ruby and jump up to let the EMTs in. Two of them, a man and a woman, rush into the apartment.

I stand back to give them room to work as they take her vitals and radio the information to the hospital. The female EMT calls on her radio for assistance with transporting the patient. A few minutes later, two firefighters appear at Ruby’s door, carrying what looks like a wheelchair. The four of them place Ruby in the chair and securely strap her in from head to toe.

Seeing Ruby like that—so pale and lifeless—is unnerving. On impulse I take the ruby ring off her finger and slip it into my pocket. She’d be heartbroken if that got lost.

I grab my phone, wallet, and keys. “I’m riding with you.”

“Keep up,” the woman says as the firefighters carry Ruby out the door.

After verifying that Pumpkin is still under Ruby’s bed, I close the bedroom door to keep him safely contained. He’s got water and a litter box in there to tide him over. After locking up the apartment, I follow the others down the stairs. There’s an ambulance waiting out front, lights flashing, along with a firetruck and a police cruiser. A cop is directing traffic.

After the firefighters load Ruby into the ambulance and transfer her to a gurney, I’m instructed to climb into the front cab with the driver.

I text Shane to let him know we’re en route to the hospital.

Shane – On my way. I’ll notify Foster and McCall

When the ambulance pulls up to the entrance to the ER, Ruby is wheeled directly into the emergency treatment area. I try to stay with her, but I’m stopped at the front desk by a woman wanting Ruby’s information. I give her as much as I can.

Shane arrives minutes later and joins me at the counter. “How is she?” he asks me.

“She was unresponsive when we arrived. I think she’s had an overdose.”

Shane scowls. “How in the hell is that possible?”

I recount everything that happened. “She didn’t drink that much, Shane. Just a few sips. I can’t imagine what would have happened if she’d consumed more.”

Shane shakes his head. “But how?”

“I’ll tell you how,” I say, shock giving way to anger. “Ruby’s neighbor, Darren, intercepted the drinks from the delivery person and brought them to her apartment. He could have spiked Ruby’s coffee easily.”

“But why would he drug her? That makes no sense. How is that going to help him in any way?”

“What the hell’s going on?” Allen Foster bears down on us from the entrance to the ER, his expression furious.

“That’s Ruby’s father,” I say to Shane.

Allen Foster grabs my shirt, his grip on my neckline practically choking me.

Shane gives me a curt shake of his head. Don’t respond.

It kills me to stand there passively while Foster glares at me.

“Let him go, Mr. Foster,” Shane says in a low voice.

Foster releases me and steps back to glare at Shane. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Shane McIntyre.” Shane offers Foster his hand.

Allen Foster refuses to shake hands. Instead, he grits his teeth and turns his attention back to me. “What the hell happened to my daughter?”

“I’m pretty sure she was drugged,” I say.

Foster’s eyes narrow on me. “How?”

“We ordered coffee from a local shop. Shortly after she started drinking hers, she lost consciousness. I think her coffee was spiked with something.”

A woman wearing light blue scrubs comes through the treatment doors and says, “For Ruby?”

“I’m Ruby’s father,” Allen says, pushing forward. “How’s my daughter?”

“Would you come with me, please?”

Foster follows the woman into the treatment area.

I start pacing, running my fingers through my hair. “That son of a bitch.”

Shane sighs. “Miguel, I know he’s hard to deal with.”

Feeling frantic, I keep pacing, dragging my fingers through my hair. “How in the hell could I have let this happen?” I feel sick.

Shane grabs my arm. “There’s no way you could have anticipated this. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Of course I blame myself! She’s my responsibility, and I fucked up!” I lower my voice when I notice people are staring. “But why would Darren drug Ruby? What could he gain from hurting her? Or worse?” I point in the general direction of the treatment area. “She could die, Shane! We don’t know how much of the drug she consumed.” I blow out a breath.

“We need to know the stipulations of the trust fund,” Shane says. “We need to find out what happens to the money if Ruby dies before her twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Edward McCall would know. He’s the trustee.”

Shane claps his hand on my shoulder. “You stay here and wait for news. I’ll contact Edward and see what I can find out.”

I nod. “I’m not leaving until I know Ruby’s okay.”

A few minutes later, Foster returns from the treatment area.

“How is she?” I ask him.

He nails me a grim look. “She’s still unconscious. They said she’s in serious, but stable condition. She’s being treated for a drug overdose—gamma something. I forget what they called it.”

“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate,” I say. “GHB.”

“Yeah, that. They found the drug in her blood, as well as alcohol. Apparently, alcohol magnifies the effects of the drug.”

My chest tightens painfully. I’m almost afraid to ask. “Is she going to be okay?”

Foster shakes his head. “The doctor said it’s too soon to tell. They’ll know more when she regains consciousness.”

“Can I see her?” I ask.

Allen Foster looks at me like I’m nuts. “See her? Hell no, you can’t see her! I’ll make sure you never see her again. You almost got her killed!”

Before I can respond, Shane joins us. He clearly heard Allen’s last remark. “Mr. Foster, Miguel’s quick action saved your daughter’s life.”

Foster turns his ire on Shane. “He was supposed to be protecting my daughter, and yet he let someone drug her!” To me, he says, “You stay the hell away from my daughter, do you hear me? If you go near her again, I’ll call the police.”

Foster storms off, leaving me speechless. I’m worried sick about Ruby, I have no idea how she’s doing, and I doubt her father is going to keep me informed. And because of patient privacy laws, I can’t even inquire. I turn to Shane. “Now what?”

“Be patient and try not to let Foster get under your skin.” He lays a hand on my shoulder. “For now, since he’s her next-of-kin, Allen’s calling the shots.”

I feel so helpless. “Her father’s going to do everything he can to prevent me from seeing her.”

“Don’t worry,” Shane says. “Ruby’s an adult. Once she regains consciousness, she’ll decide who she wants to see.”

We grab seats in the waiting room and hope for news on Ruby’s condition.

Not long after, a man in a dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie approaches, pulling something from his jacket pocket. He flashes a police badge. “Miguel Rodriguez?”

I nod. “That’s me.”

“I’m Detective Dale Cartwright, Chicago PD. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Ruby Foster, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” I glance at Shane, who’s listening intently. “What would you like to know?” My pulse kicks up. This isn’t good.

“What can you tell me about Ruby Foster’s drug overdose?”

My body tenses as my heart pounds. “Ruby didn’t overdose,” I ground out. “Someone drugged her.”

“You were there when it happened?” he asks.

“Yes.”

The detective looks pensive. “We need to talk.”