Restoring Passion

  RESTORING PASSION

  DIY BOOK 3

  By Sandra Kyle

  Copyright 2019 Sandra Kyle

  Editor: Devin Govaere

  Cover Art: Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  ABOUT RESTORING PASSION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  READ MORE FROM SANDRA KYLE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT RESTORING PASSION

  DIY Romance Series

  Happily ever after seemed a guarantee for Vanessa and Daniel. Then, the photos dropped into Vanessa’s lap, sent from an unwelcomed part of her past. Everything changed in an instant.

  With their world turned upside down and their lives subject to investigation, how will they restore the passion that brought them together?

  Return to Savannah and catch up with the characters of A Building Passion and Passion Project for the final installment in the DIY contemporary romance series: Restoring Passion.

  Chapter One

  I’ll try anything to get to the bottom of all of this. For Vanessa.

  Daniel stared out the passenger window. The Chicago skyline loomed ahead. A blue sky with puffy white clouds provided the postcard-perfect backdrop for the massive skyscrapers. But all he could think about was his home with Vanessa on the corner of East 33rd and Drayton Street, back in Savannah.

  “Pondering the greatness of my hometown,” Jack quipped. He gripped the steering wheel as he zoomed through the traffic. “It stuns many a tourist into silence. The Sears Tower has this ledge at one of the very top floors that tilts out over the city.” He pried one hand off the wheel to do a quick tipping motion. “Too bad we don’t have time to head up there, or I would indulge your architectural curiosity.”

  “It’s called the Willis Tower now,” Daniel corrected.

  “Will always be Sears to me.”

  Jack tapped the screen on his console until he landed on an ’80s rock and roll tune. “Anything else on your mind?”

  “Miss my truck.” Daniel rubbed his thighs and attempted to straighten his long legs in the confined space of the compact car.

  “We’ve only been in this rental twenty minutes.”

  “And before that, hours in economy,” Daniel mumbled.

  “You’re a trooper,” Jack shot back like a sarcastic older brother. When there was no response, he softened, adding, “It’s going to be fine, Dan. We’ll know what’s going on soon enough.”

  Daniel turned back to the passenger window.

  *

  The houses lining South Aberdeen Street in the Bridgeport neighborhood were each unique. Not one cookie cutter in the bunch. The row homes packed themselves into block after city block, vying for every square foot they could claim.

  Jack backed into a parking spot and made a call. “Hey, Richie. Yeah, we’re here. Want we should come in?” Jack’s Chicago accent became more and more perceptible with each syllable. “Ah, we don’t want to disturb Shelley.” He cleared his throat. “Josie’s? Sure, I remember where it’s at. That place is still open? I thought the health inspectors would have closed it down by now.” Daniel heard some comment on the other end of the line about the owner’s pockets being plenty deep for that not to ever happen. “How much time ya need? All right, see you in fifteen.” Jack turned to Daniel. “Let’s go for a walk. I’ll show you the best spot in town.”

  Daniel frowned. “I’m guessing the only safe thing to do at this place is drink.”

  Jack tapped his nose and then pointed at Daniel. “Got that right. Richie’s got a full house and a wife with a migraine.” He hopped out of the car. “Migraine has been going on for eighteen years now. Ever since she got pregnant with Janice.”

  It was one o’clock on a Saturday. The neighborhood was alive with kids in tiny front yards and moms grabbing bags of groceries out of their SUVs. Daniel nodded to the boxy three-story home near their parking spot on the one-way street. “Richie’s house?”

  Jack nodded, meeting him on the sidewalk. “Belonged to his dad. Richie bleeds green, even if the neighborhood doesn’t anymore.” Jack had a good ten years on Daniel. His elder status showed in the salt and pepper shading of his hair and stubble, even if his age didn’t anywhere else. Leading Daniel down the street, he continued, “He and I would get in a ton of trouble on these streets when I would visit. Firecrackers behind the rectory was a particularly memorable belt whipping.”

  Daniel couldn’t help but smile for a brief instant. “You got caught?”

  Jack shook his head. “Richie told on us. Jagoff. Guilty conscience after he heard Father O’Leary cussing from his bedroom window. No wonder he became a cop.”

  Daniel hesitated. “I’ve been trying not to get my mind skipping from A to Z. But this inability to just tell us what he’s found out about the whole Jessica and Ned thing over the phone...”

  “I know. Richie’s extra cautious about everything, though.”

  Jack had done some digging, courtesy of Richie, trying to find out who was behind the blackmailing of Jessica. His former co-star and her involvement in the second season taping of Lowe Maintenance had almost been the end of Daniel’s short-lived stardom and Jack and Marly’s then burgeoning relationship months ago.

  Just when things were beginning to feel right again.

  The second season was ready for a reshoot in a week, back to only Daniel and Marly; Vanessa had even accepted the taping schedule and had taken to managing his shop like the pro she was. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world again. And then, Jack told him his cousin from Chicago had called with news. News that could only be given in person. And it somehow involved Daniel.

  The pub they stepped into looked like it had been plucked straight out of a mob movie. Dim lights provided enough illumination for a few feet of visibility. Daniel’s thigh bumped into a stool near the entrance. Its legs teetered atop the wooden floor like a top desperate to continue spinning.

  A handful of patrons, hunched in corners or over their drinks at the bar, all turned at the same time to stare at the ones causing all the ruckus. There wasn’t even music playing.

  Daniel whispered to Jack, “Are we in a bar or a morgue?”

  “Definitely not a wake. There’d be singing and maybe even someone dancing on a table or two.” Jack scanned the room. “Same circus, different bears.” He motioned to the bar. “Come on, let me buy you a drink.” The burly bartender stomped over to take Jack’s order when they sat down. Jack spared Daniel anything too strong early in the day and kept it to a couple beers. When the bartender left and was out of earshot, Jack commented, “That was not Josie.”

  “There actually was a Josie?”

  Jack nodded. “Didn’t take any crap from the regulars but was sweet as icing to us kids when our dads dragged us in.”

  Daniel refrained from mentioning that was against the law according to the faded sign on the front door.

  “She would usually give Richie and me an ice cream cup from the chest freezer.” Jack turned his head and nodded toward the far end of the establishment. “Used to be
along that wall down there.”

  The trip down Jack’s memory lane was doing little to ease Daniel’s nerves. He nodded in thanks when the bartender placed the beer in front of him and took a nice long swig. Smells of alcohol, cooking grease, and a lingering, stale conglomeration of various body odors filled his nose. The beer was warm and flat. Just keep drinking it.

  Jack licked his lips after his taste. A look of mild disappointment followed. “Beer’s still the same, too.”

  “No fancy microbreweries in town?”

  “There could be. It’s been a while for me.” He pointed to the bartender. “Should I ask?”

  “I’d like to leave with my face intact.”

  The door opened. Sunshine spilled inside. A balding man with a stubby figure entered. His gaze landed on Jack. “Son of a bitch. Who the hell let this guy in here?”

  Jack stood up and embraced the man, a good foot shorter than he was. “Free country last time I checked.”

  “Tell that to my wife.”

  “Richie, you look good.”

  “Cut the shit.” He slapped Jack’s lean stomach. “You look good. Need to give me the name of your trainer.” Richie walked around Daniel to sit on a stool. “So I can tell him what a good job he’s doing.”

  “Richie”—Jack placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder—“this is—”

  “Daniel Lowe.” Richie offered a handshake. “Even if I wasn’t doing my research I’d know ya. My wife has your show on every Wednesday night.”

  Daniel returned the gesture with a firm shake. “Appreciate the time you are taking for me and Jack.”

  “Ah, I wouldn’t thank me just yet.” Richie glanced around the room. “You may not be happy with all that I have to tell ya.”

  Jack slid onto his stool. “We’ve had a couple days of mystery.”

  And misery. Daniel attempted to read the lines on Richie’s face for any indication of the severity of the news.

  “Can you enlighten us?” Jack asked.

  “Jessica showed you the pictures used to blackmail her. But the problem was you didn’t know who.”

  Jack and Daniel both nodded at the same time.

  “As blackmail goes, this one has its fair share of twists. Jessica was getting blackmailed to do a number on you.” He pointed to Daniel. “Ned was getting blackmailed into taking over the production end of the show, screwing you over.” He pointed to Jack. “Hiring Jessica for your second season was a pretty amazing checkmate move. Putting all of that together, it’s not as simple as just one person behind it.”

  “It never is,”Jack retorted.

  “No. And that’s why my little cousin here had to come to one of the best around to make heads or tails of it all. Richie shifted in his seat and tapped the counter. A wallet emerged from his back pocket, sandwiched between stumpy fingers. His enlarged knuckles hinted at fists used for lots of manual labor. Including some punching, I’d guess.

  “It’s on me, remember?” Jack reminded.

  “Don’t have to remind me.” Richie flung a business card across the bar in Jack’s general direction.

  Jack slid the card closer for inspection. “Malatesta Productions?”

  “Seems that’s who your buddy Ned has been partnering with on a lot of projects lately.”

  “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “That name was known all over Chicago, specially Little Italy, when we were runnin’ around the streets.”

  “Shit, that’s right.” Jack rubbed his forehead. “Ned used to have one of their guys in our offices all the time when we were starting up.”

  Richie sipped his bourbon in between sentences. “Reynolds. He was just a step stool back then. Did a lot of the grunt work. But he always cut deals on the side to get a little piece of the action. As one does.” He tipped his glass a fraction in a nod to Jack. “He’s practically running it now, though. And it looks like he’s gotten help taking care of all that dirty laundry that’s piling up. Your friend, turns out, is quite a good little maid. I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t dropping to his knees and servicing him in other ways.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Thinking they are the muscle behind that whole make Jessica a star and ruin everyone’s career in the process situation.”

  “Why?” Daniel asked. “Is she the girlfriend of someone in the mob?”

  Richie shook his head.

  Jack nudged Daniel. “We don’t actually use that word.”

  “Guess I’ve watched too many Scorsese films.” Daniel smarted from the reprimand.

  “Know anything about a company called Exetus?” Richie stared at Daniel.

  “Should I?”

  “Malatesta has consulted with them on financial issues over the past year.” Richie pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. He slid it in front of Daniel. “That’s the name of their primary banking consultant.”

  A frown lined Daniel’s lips as he opened the note. He read the name. A shot of adrenaline ran through his veins. “Shit,” he mumbled.

  “What?” Jack studied the name. “You know a Brian Lancaster?”

  “That’s Vanessa’s ex.”

  *

  The smile Vanessa forced all Saturday morning made her cheeks ache. Customers flowed in and out of Dan’s Details’ front door once Charlie had flipped the sign to OPEN and turned the bolt.

  She glanced at her watch. Eleven o’clock already. At least time is passing quick.

  If even half of the people filling the store had been paying customers, Vanessa’s smile would have emerged easily. But the majority were women of various ages coming out of curiosity and raging hormones, courtesy of Vanessa’s husband. Some emboldened ladies didn’t hesitate to approach Vanessa and ask about Daniel’s whereabouts. Others crept around the handful of aisles or stood in corners. Cell phones were a natural extension of almost everyone’s hand. They snapped photos and panned the hardware scene, taking video.

  What a difference a year makes. This store was usually empty enough to hear a nail drop back then. Can’t hear anything over the giggles and chatter now.

  She spotted Charlie assisting a group of twenty-somethings by the bolts. Daniel thought Charlie’s presence added a layer of protection, but she’d lost count of the times she’d had to pull him free from the claws of a hungry cougar.

  “Charlie!” she called out over the buzz of conversation. He glanced over. “Heading into the back for a minute.” He nodded and waved in confirmation.

  Vanessa escaped the thrall of Daniel’s fans and closed the door. She leaned against it. It still wasn’t as quiet as she would have liked. But the mixture of perfume scents no longer assaulted her senses.

  The components of Daniel’s current project littered his work bench. She sat in his chair and turned over one of the small wood carvings. Try as she might, she still couldn’t remember the difference between balsa and basswood. The only thing she focused on when he talked about his newfound whittling interest was the way his blue eyes lit up in delight.

  She pushed away the nagging unease that had filled her thoughts since Daniel told her he had to go with Jack to Chicago for business. There had been something tugging at him the past few days; she could feel it. His lips didn’t turn up into that easy smile without effort. She’d catch him staring at her, but not with the usual hunger and craving she had become accustomed to, the stare that would elicit an immediate arousal from her core. This look held a subtle concern and even the hint of fear. The last time he’d looked at her that way he had unburdened himself with the tale of his first love, Lori, and Brian’s attempt to blackmail Daniel out of Vanessa’s life altogether.

  Brian.

  She hadn’t had to think of him in a long time. The ghost of his manipulations hovered over them again. She didn’t mention it to Daniel. He would shrug it off, tell her she was worrying about nothing. So she kept the thoughts to herself.

  But what if he’s having the same thoughts?

  Charlie’s telltale
rapping on the door preceded its opening. He tossed a mass of envelopes on the workbench. His body remained wedged in the gap of the door. “Mail call! Larry reminded us to set up a post office box.”

  “Do you think the fan letters will eventually lead him to quit?” Vanessa fanned the pile across the surface and perused it for bills.

  Charlie chuckled. “How much longer are you going to hide out back here, Ms. Vanessa?”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I just need a few more minutes.”

  “No problem. If you need to head home…”

  Vanessa straightened in her seat. “Nope. This little recharge will get me through it.”

  He nodded and suggested, “Maybe some coffee?”

  “I’ll run and get us some lunch in a bit. That will help, too. My treat.”

  Giving a thumbs-up in agreement, he retreated, only to return. “Oh. That big one must’ve been left by one of the customers. It was on the counter.” He finally shut the door.

  There were no markings on the large manila envelope. She frowned and patted its exterior. A quick fiddle of the clasps released the flap. Anthrax is no joke. She held her breath, leaned back, and then peeked inside. The threat of a powdery substance eliminated, her fingers dipped in and pulled out what looked to be photos.

  She gazed at the first one for seconds. Rapid blinks tried to make sense of the image. The beating of her heart matched the fluttering of her lids.

  Vanessa flipped through the photos, five in total. Her world crumbled further with each new reveal.

  Daniel. He was the focus of each black and white photo. His body lay across a bed. He was naked from the waist up, wrists bound by some material to the bedpost. She searched his face in each one. He looked knocked out or asleep, not at all aware.

  “What the fuck?” The question squeaked out of her mouth. Panic pounded through her. She backed away from the bench. The stool toppled to the floor with a clang. One of the photos cascaded to the ground and landed upside down. Mercifully, a phone number had been scrawled on the back.