delicate-faced wife was a wh.o.r.e, just as his mother had been.

He was going to give her a beating she'd never forget.

Imagine her having the nerve to take off. The tucking gall to transfer

her money and cancel the credit. He'd been humiliated at Bijan when the

clerk had taken back the cashmere duster Drew had decided to purchase,

with the cool comment that his credit card had been canceled.

She was going to pay for that.

Then to have that snotty lawyer serve him with papers. So she wanted a

divorce. He'd see her dead first.

The New York lawyer hadn't been any help. Some bulls.h.i.t about a

professional courtesy to another firm. Mrs. Latimer didn't want her

whereabouts known. Well, he was going to find her whereabouts all

right, and he was going to kick a.s.s.

At first he'd been afraid she'd gone to her father. With the benefit

coming up and all Drew's plans to go solo about to bear fruit, he didn't

want someone as influential as Brian McAvoy coming down on

him. But then Brian had called about Emma's old lady dying. Drew was

pleased that he'd been able to cover himself so quickly. He'd told

Brian that Emma was out for the evening with a couple of her

girlfriends. And he was certain he'd had just the right tone of

sympathy and concern in his voice when he'd promised to tell Emma the

news.

If McAvoy didn't know where his b.i.t.c.h of a daughter was, then Drew

figured none of the other band members knew, either. They were all as

thick as b.l.o.o.d.y thieves. He'd thought of Bev, but he was nearly sure

that if Emma had gone to London, her old man would've gotten wind of it.

Or maybe they were all playing with him, laughing at him behind his

back. If that was the case, then he'd pay her back, with interest.

She'd been gone for over two weeks. He hoped she'd had herself a high

flying time because she was going to pay for every hour.

He hunched his shoulders against the brisk wind as he walked. The

leather jacket kept out the worst of the early spring chill, but his

ears were ringing from the wind. Or maybe it was fury. He liked that

idea better and grinned a little as he crossed the street to the loft.

He'd taken the subway, something he found degrading but safer than a cab

under the circ.u.mstances. He would more than likely have to do something

... unpleasant to Marianne. Unpleasant for her, anyway, Drew

thought with a laugh. It wowd be a great pleasure for him.

Emma had lied to him. Marianne had been at the funeral. He'd seen the

pictures of them together in the paper. As sure as G.o.d made h.e.l.l,

Marianne had been in on the whole thing. She'd know where Emma was

hiding. And when he got through with her, she'd be d.a.m.n delighted to

tell him.

He used the key he'd gotten from Emma months before. Inside, he punched

in the security code to unlock the elevator. As the doors closed him

in, he rubbed the knuckles of one hand against the other. He hoped she

was still in bed.

The loft was silent. He moved quietly across the floor and up the

stairs with his heart pounding happily. There was disappointment when

he saw the empty bed. The sheets were tangled, but cool. The