by Rachel Woods
Carrying out the plan would require him to give up part of himself, he knew. The part he’d fought hard to obtain, and even harder to hold on to, but he would find a way to make peace with what he would lose.
After all, it wouldn’t be sacrifice if it didn’t demand blood.
8
Houston, Texas
Toyota Center
Walking in a semi-circle, Sione watched as Spencer continued to wait, smiling every now and then as people passed her, getting lots of attention.
Maybe too much attention, Sione thought, irritated. He should have been used to the second looks she received. Her beauty couldn’t be ignored. It always demanded a response. But he didn’t like the roving eyes following her everywhere they went—out to dinner, to the movies, grocery shopping.
Spencer gravitated toward a bench near a cluster of trees cordoned off by a low stone wall and took a seat, placing the blue purse on her lap, curling her fingers around the handles.
Lowering the binoculars, tense and anxious, Sione found himself struggling, once again, with his decision to kill Ben Chang. It wasn’t a decision he’d arrived at with haste and little forethought, an idea born from a spontaneous spark of rage. The idea had sprouted in his mind years ago, the first seeds having been planted the day he’d caught Ben in bed with Moana.
It had been a nice spring day. The air crisp and hopeful. Nothing about the expansive blue sky or the brilliant white popcorn clouds or the mild breeze had foreshadowed disappointment and disillusionment. Sione had arrived at the small house they shared early, thinking he would surprise her with a gift, a delicate anklet she’d admired weeks before during an excursion to San Pedro. It was an effort to make her feel more loved and appreciated and maybe to convince himself they did belong together. He wanted to do for her the things a husband would do, or should do, even though he had begun to question his decision to ask her to marry him—and her acceptance of his proposal.
Moana had always been wild, not the kind of woman anxious to settle down and attach herself to one man. When she’d said yes after he’d popped the question, Sione had been shocked and more relieved than ecstatic.
Minutes after entering the house, he’d heard the moaning and the rhythmic thumping of two solid objects against each other—the headboard banging into the wall behind the bed, he would find out.
He’d walked down the hall to the bedroom, curious about the strange noises, trying to convince himself it wasn’t what he thought and yet knowing it would be worse than he could have ever imagined.
And it had been so much worse.
His fiancée and the man he thought of as a brother were banging their brains out. Frozen, he’d watched, enraged and yet entranced. Something about their slick, sweaty bodies both fascinated and irritated him. Maybe it was the contrast of their skin tones as they moved in frantic desperation. Moana’s dusky tan and Ben’s darkness looked like a kaleidoscopic swirl of undulating lust. Or maybe it had been the look she’d given him when she had glanced over her shoulder, seen him standing in the doorway. There was no shock, no guilt, and no excuse. There was only a sly smile and a salacious invitation in her glazed, dark eyes. He’d had a feeling that she wanted him to join them, and a year ago, the last time he’d seen Moana, she’d confirmed that suspicion.
I never came between you and Ben…I wish I had come between you two, but you weren’t down for that.
Sione raised the binoculars.
Across the street, Spencer was standing again now. She walked a few feet from the bench, cradling the blue Hermes bag in her arms, and glanced toward the doors of the venue. Raucous, rowdy, half-drunk fans poured out of the stadium, a steady stream of people, a diverse body representing the city’s multifaceted culture. Most of them were clad in "Rocket Red," sporting T-shirts, jerseys, and hats, proudly displaying their team spirit and support for the local franchise.
As Spencer paced in a short arc, her posture rigid and tense, Sione went back in time to the moment he’d caught Ben making love to Moana. He regretted not killing Ben that day. Through the years, he’d often chided himself for just turning and walking away.
Of course, if he had wrapped his hands around Ben’s throat and choked the breath from his body that crisp spring day, he never would have met Spencer. People said you couldn’t miss what you’d never had, but he had a feeling he would have gone through life knowing she should have been with him. He would have missed her like something essential to his existence, as crazy as that was. He would have always wondered if—
Jolted from his grim reverie, Sione sat forward, his heart slamming.
He couldn’t see Spencer anymore. Someone was standing in front of her. Some guy was blocking Sione’s view. Who the hell was the guy? Some asshole hitting on her? Or maybe…
The guy started to walk away, and Spencer followed him over to the bench near the trees. Together, they sat on the bench, the guy turned at an angle so Sione couldn’t see his face, just his back, as he lounged in a relaxed pose with one arm hanging casually over the back of the bench. Spencer was perched on the edge of the seat, as though she was seconds away from fleeing. This was the guy Ben had arranged for her to meet, Sione realized, his heart kicking up a few notches as he sat forward, the binoculars pressed against his face.
9
Houston, Texas
Toyota Center
The night was balmy, customarily warm, even in October, but still, Spencer shivered as she stood among, but apart from, the groups of Rockets fans exiting the arena, laughing and talking, some of them engaging in good-natured jostling and horseplay.
Through the large, wide windows of the venue, she could see the activity on the main concourse level, where fans milled about in their Rockets attire, and could hear the faint roar of cheers.
Spencer sighed as she walked across the courtyard, gazing absently at the memorial brick pavers beneath her feet, hundreds of six-inch square stones spread across the plaza of the main entrance into the arena. Purchased by fans before the construction of the venue, they were engraved with personalized messages, names, businesses, and special dates.
Spencer read a few of the bricks, trying to calm down, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate, and couldn’t pretend she was some fan waiting around for a group of friends who were still inside or maybe for a ride to pick her up.
There was no escaping the real reason why she was loitering in front of the arena, trying to appear serene and inconspicuous, when what she really wanted to do was let out the howling scream that churned and roiled in her gut.
More than anything, she wished she were at home, preparing for John to return from his business trip to Dallas. He would be back early tomorrow morning, and she would be waiting, lying naked across the bed, in the beautiful Mediterranean-villa-inspired mansion where they were building a life—a wonderful version of their very own happily ever after, a life that, ironically, Ben had encouraged her to pursue.
But she was at the Toyota Center because Ben Chang wanted to meet here.
His text a few days ago, demanding the Thursday night tête-à-tête, after almost a year, sent a jolt of panic and disappointment and fear through her.
Bring what you owe me
Sighing, Spencer wandered aimlessly toward a bench.
She’d always known Ben would contact her again. The text had been like an assault upon her happiness, a threat to her hopes and dreams of being with John.
Earlier, after John left for the airport, Spencer had found the frangipani she had pressed between the pages of a book of love poems. John had given her the flower more than a year ago, a gesture she’d found ridiculously romantic, filling her with an overwhelming euphoria. Spencer had never believed in being on cloud nine before, but when John gave her the frangipani, happiness had expanded in her, making her feel airy and ephemeral, like she was floating in pure joy.
John had wanted her to think about their relationship, how she felt about it, and what she wanted to happened between them. Sp
encer hadn’t needed to think about it. She’d known exactly what she’d hoped for the two of them and had immediately placed the flower behind her left ear, announcing to John that she was taken.
She’d always known that the frangipani belonged behind her left ear. Despite her doubts and issues, she’d realized that, secretly, she had always wanted love and romance and a soul mate and...
A baby?
Part of her wanted children of her own, the part who believed wishes could come true, but the realist within her wasn’t sure about the idea of bringing a child into the world. She worried about being a good mother. She’d had the absolute worst example. A woman who had abused, neglected, and then ultimately abandoned her only to come back into her life, claiming to be a changed woman. That had been true, though. Her mother had returned as some kind of Stepford wife.
Pushing the disturbing thoughts away, Spencer glanced at her watch, wondering if Ben would suddenly appear out of the throng of fans milling about in groups of various sizes. What would she do when she saw him again? What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Was there really anything they needed to say to each other? The envelope was their only reason for meeting, and yet she felt as though there was some unfinished business between them. She sensed there was something other than the envelope that they needed to resolve before they said goodbye forever.
Goodbye forever. Spencer shivered. Why did the thought of never seeing Ben again make her feel…what? How did it make her feel? She didn’t know. She couldn’t articulate the feelings, which bothered her. What she felt for Ben shouldn’t be vague or ambiguous—something hard to define. Spencer exhaled, frowning. She shouldn’t have any feelings for Ben other than fear and loathing.
“Hey, sweet girl...”
Gasping, Spencer spun around and looked up, heart pounding. Ben stood in front of her, tall and handsome, giving her a mysterious smile as he stared down at her. She couldn’t accurately describe what she felt as she stared up at him. A strange combination of apprehension and excitement gripped her.
Ben took her hand, brought it toward his mouth, and pressed his lips against her palm, somewhere close to her love line. Spencer thought of snatching her hand away and slapping him. But a few yards away, a large group of people was walking past them, and a few of the rowdy, fist-pumping fans glanced over at them. She didn’t want to give them a show.
And, if she was honest, she was somewhat intrigued by Ben’s gesture.
Maybe a part of her was still somewhat intrigued by him. It wasn’t that she was still interested. She was completely, absolutely, over those ridiculous fantasies of being with Ben. But something residual remained between them.
“How have you been?” Ben asked.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call me so I can give you this damn envelope,” she snapped, ignoring the tingling feeling on her palm where he’d kissed it. “And then you can give me the evidence you have against me, and we can finally go our separate ways and never see each other again!”
“Never say never, sweet girl.” Still holding her hand, Ben led her toward the bench, and they sat.
“Are we going to make this exchange or not?” she demanded, shaken by his words, which seemed a bit too plausible, too prophetic. “Do you have that DVD of me? Because if I don’t get the evidence you have on me, then you are not getting the envelope.”
“Is that a threat, sweet girl?” He smirked and released her hand. “Or a promise?”
“I am a threat to you, Ben,” she said, feeling strangely, almost chaotically, emboldened. “And I promise you, if you rat on me, I will rat on you. Don’t forget, I know what you did to Maxine Porter, Karen Johnson, and Carla Garcia—”
“I didn’t kill those women,” Ben said.
“But they’re dead because of you,” she said. “And so is Tommy Fong.”
“He deserved to die for what he did to you,” Ben said.
Spencer looked away from him. Ben was responsible for Fong’s charred remains, and she hated that she had to keep quiet about it or he would ruin her life. But even worse was his explanation, which wasn’t explicit, but implied, and the implications worried her.
Spencer didn’t like the idea of Ben killing for her. Such an extreme, heinous action suggested he harbored feelings for her, feelings that might destroy the life she was trying to build with John.
“Are we going to do this damn exchange?” Spencer asked.
“Of course.”
“The envelope for the evidence against me,” she said, feeling the need to make sure. “That’s what we agreed to.”
“I am aware of the terms of our agreement.”
“We don’t have an agreement,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t agree to any of this. I was forced to do it, remember? Because I owe you?”
“Yeah, you do owe me,” he agreed. “But I’m paying for it.”
Spencer looked up at him, not sure what he meant and not wanting to ask. There was something in that enigmatic gaze that worried her, made her feel as though Ben’s prolonged absence had been due to some trials and tribulations of his own.
“So, here you are, sweet girl,” Ben said, handing her a DVD.
“You didn’t make any copies of the video?”
“It’s depressing enough that I even had one video of you stealing from me,” he said. “Why would I need another copy of that sad travesty?”
“Leverage,” she told him, determined to not let him make her feel like a pariah. “You might want something to blackmail me with later. Maybe when you need another favor.”
“I assure you, sweet girl,” he said, “I won’t be asking you to do me any more favors. You’ve already done enough.”
She detected some hidden meaning in his words, a veiled insinuation, but she wasn’t in the mood to figure him out, and really, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get back to the mansion and move on with her life.
With John.
And their little one growing inside her.
Hopefully.
“Okay, so,” she said, preparing to stand. “Goodbye. Take care of yourself.”
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling her closer.
She tried to pull away, but he held her firm. “I have to go.”
“Before you do, tell me something, sweet girl,” he said. “How is happily ever after with Sione Tuiali’i?
“What the hell do you care?” Spencer asked.
“Is it everything that you hoped it would be?” Ben asked, his smile a bit too sly. “Has it lived up to your expectations? Or have you started to notice the chinks in your knight’s shining armor?”
Heart slamming, she said, “Happily ever after has exceeded my expectations.”
“Has it now?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“If I’m disappointed, it is because I know that soon you will be disappointed,” Ben said. “The dreams that you think have come true will turn out to be your worst nightmare. Don’t forget, sweet girl, that Sione Tuiali’i is searching for a specific kind of woman.”
“And you think I’m not that woman, right?” She glared at him. “But you’re wrong. I am that woman. John loves me, and I love him.”
“Sweet girl, you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to a man who will force you to jump through hoops of fire to please him,” Ben said. “You deserve someone who will accept you for who you are, someone who won’t condemn you for the mistakes you’ve made.”
Wary, she stared at him. “Are you trying to say you’re that someone?”
“You sound like you think I’m not.”
“Ben, how the hell can you imply that you wouldn’t hold my mistakes against me?” she asked, confused. “You sent me to Belize because you were holding my mistakes against me. You forced me to do favors for you, and you expect me to think that you would accept me for who I am? You don’t trust me. You condemned me. You made me jump through hoops!”
“But I still wanted you in my life,” he said. “I couldn’t
let you get away with what you did, sweet girl. Stealing is wrong.”
“So is murder.” She glared at him.
He leaned closer to her. “You want to know why I killed Tommy Fong?”
Spencer looked away, not sure she wanted him to say it though she had a feeling she already knew his reasons. Ben had murdered Tommy Fong in retaliation, because Richard had told Fong to kidnap her in some twisted attempt to teach Ben a lesson.
“I wouldn’t want a man to burn alive,” Ben said, deep voice lowered, the lyrical Island lilt vibrating through her. “I wouldn’t want a man to experience hell on earth, unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless he tried to go after something very important to me,” Ben said. “Maybe if he tried to hurt someone I cared about, someone who means the world to me, then he would have to pay with his life.”
Staring up at him, she knew without a doubt why Ben had killed Fong.
“Sweet girl, Sione Tuiali’i is not the man you want to give your heart to,” Ben said, redirecting the conversation. “He’ll smash it into a million pieces.”
Staring into his dark eyes, Spencer tried to see past the pretense. His concern about her feelings and her heart was disingenuous. Ben was just jealous and trying to scare her, but he wasn’t going to make her doubt John’s feelings for her. She was going to believe John’s hopes for them were true and they would last; she was going to trust that John had been honest about his feelings and they wouldn’t change.
“Listen, sweet girl,” Ben said, his gaze piercing. “If you want to be with Sione, I won’t put up a fuss. I won’t stand in the way of what you think will be happiness. But, when he finds out who you really are, he’ll cast you aside and leave you broken and disappointed.”
10
Houston, Texas
Toyota Center
From what Sione could tell, Spencer and the guy hadn’t made the exchange yet. They were talking. The conversation seemed intense but not confrontational. What the hell were they talking about? Sione wondered, his heart beating faster.