Flawless Betrayal

by Rachel Woods

  She had to find her way back to John even as he was finding his way to her.

  John was searching for her, Spencer knew that. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help him out somehow. Once, back when they were first getting to know each other, John had accused her of not wanting a hero. Back then, that had been true, somewhat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted a hero. She just didn’t know if she could count on a man to keep his promises. Her father had been largely absent from her life, and her stepfathers had been like Jekyll and Hyde.

  As time passed, her fear and panic escalated. She would not make it out of the house alive if she didn’t find some way to escape. There were so many reasons for the woman to kill her. Spencer had seen the woman’s face. She could identify her kidnappers. Whatever the woman’s demands were, once John met them, Spencer knew the woman would put a bullet in her head.

  Standing in the middle of the room, she took a cold, critical, calculating look around. At first glance, she saw nothing she could weaponize in the bedroom. A more thorough investigation of the bed revealed it to be three mattresses stacked on top of each other. There was no box spring with wooden slats and wire coils she might use to poke out an eye. None of the furniture had sharp edges. There was no art on the walls. Nothing on the accent tables, and the drawer seemed to be glued shut.

  In the bathroom, there were no shower curtain or shower rods. No mirror hung above the pedestal sink. No potential weapons, she thought, not surprised. There were no towels. No soap. No toiletries. There was a roll of toilet paper on top of the tank, but when Spencer tried to remove it, the thing wouldn’t budge and seemed to be cemented in place.

  Back in the bedroom, she took deep breaths and paced, determined not to get upset or discouraged. She might have given in to hysteria if not for thoughts of the baby. And John. Though, thoughts on John reminded her of the ruined wedding.

  Spencer sat on the edge of the bed. What was John doing right now? Was he missing her? Crazed with worry? Was he out looking for her? Desperate to find her? Determined to rescue her? He had to be, Spencer told herself. Because if he wasn’t out looking for her, that meant… She didn’t want to think about what it would mean. Dear Sione. No, John couldn’t have believed the note was real. But what if he had?

  Crying, she dropped her face in her hands. What if, right now, he was somewhere thanking God he’d dodged a bullet and hadn’t married a diabolical bitch like her? What if his family had convinced him the note was real?

  A loud, familiar click jolted her. Someone was opening the door. Spencer wiped her eyes and stood, forcing herself to focus on escape. Each time a guard entered the room was an opportunity to find some way to flee. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her.

  The left door opened wide, and the woman walked into the room.

  “Surprised to see me, black Barbie?” The woman carried the breakfast tray to the coffee table. “Well, I’m sick of you trying to get my guys to mutiny. Offering them double and triple to go against me. That’s not going to happen, okay?”

  “How can you be so sure?” Spencer challenged, scrutinizing the woman. She wasn’t much taller than Spencer, but she was slim with an athletic build. The sleeveless black tank she wore showcased lean muscles. Spencer was quite sure the woman would kick her ass, but she was equally sure that she would put up a damn good fight.

  “I’m sure because I know these men,” the woman said. “They can be bought but not at the expense of their lives. They help you, and all they’ll get for their heroic efforts is a bullet to the head.”

  Frustrated, Spencer rolled her eyes though she realized the woman had, perhaps inadvertently, given her some insight into what the guard’s thought about her offer.

  “Now that we’ve got that settled,” the woman said, turning from Spencer. “Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Wait,” Spencer called to her.

  At the door, the woman pivoted, facing her. “What is it?”

  “Who told you to kidnap me?” Spencer asked. “Why did they want Sione to think I left him at the altar?”

  “I told you,” the woman said. “I don’t question my orders. My guess is that if Sione calls the cops and reports you missing, it might complicate the situation.”

  “What is the situation?” Spencer asked. “Why was I kidnapped?”

  “I didn’t ask because I don’t really care,” the woman said. “But, again, my guess is that the person who had you kidnapped wants something from Sione.”

  “What does this person want?”

  The woman shrugged. “Something that this person thinks Sione will give him in exchange for your safe return.”

  “Has this person given Sione a ransom demand?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” the woman said. “But you better hope that Sione gives this person what they want because if he doesn’t, unfortunately, I’ll have to kill you.”

  The woman turned to leave.

  “Wait a minute,” Spencer called out. “Please, wait.”

  Facing Spencer, the woman frowned. “What now?”

  “If you let me go,” Spencer said. “Sione will give you double what this person is paying you, and he’ll make sure you won’t go to jail for what you’ve done.”

  The woman’s laugh was short and scornful. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “You don’t want to make twice as much money?” Spencer asked. “You don’t want to stay out of prison?”

  “Let me tell you something about Sione,” the woman said. “He hates me, okay? And if he knew that I had kidnapped you, he would kill me.”

  37

  Location Unknown

  “By the way, there are cameras everywhere.” The woman placed the dinner tray on the coffee table, hours later, after Spencer had showered. “The entire house has interior surveillance, so stop trying to come up with ways to escape, okay?”

  Sitting on the couch, arms folded, Spencer said nothing. She listened intently, though, fighting discouragement. She should have figured there were cameras all over the house. Interior surveillance. Reminded Spencer of Ben’s townhouse. Her whole life had gone to hell because of interior surveillance. Cameras in Ben’s closet had caught her stealing from him and had given him the evidence he needed to blackmail her in to going to Belize to search for that damn envelope.

  “Now, before you dig in,” said the woman. “I need a favor.”

  Spencer remained quiet, but she was curious, worried. The word favor made her think of Ben, the last person she wanted haunting her thoughts.

  “It’s been a few days since you left Sione at the altar,” the woman said.

  “Since I left him at the altar?” Spencer glared at the woman. “Are you out of your mind? I would never have left him at the altar if you hadn’t kidnapped me.”

  The woman shrugged. “Anyway, I’m sure he’s worried about you, so I think you should call him.”

  “You want me to call him?” Spencer’s heart raced, thinking of what it would mean to hear John’s voice again. It seemed as though an eternity since she’d spoken to him, the last time being at the day before they were supposed to be married. He’d told her how much he loved her and the baby and how he couldn’t wait for them to be married and—

  Quickly, she pushed the memories away before she burst into tears. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t give in to hysteria. She had to focus, to think of how to take advantage of the conversation she would have with John. Somehow, she would have to give him some clue as to who had taken her and where she was, even though she had no idea who the woman was or where the house was located.

  “My sources confirm that Sione is out at the moment,” the woman said. “We have someone watching him, and apparently, he’s out looking for you.”

  “I told you he wouldn’t believe that note you made me write,” Spencer said, allowing herself a moment to feel smug. “He knows how much I love him and want to marry him and—”

  “So, I’ve prepared a statement for y
ou to read,” the woman said, pulling a piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s going to be a voice message.”

  “A voice message?” Spencer echoed, disappointed. She’d been looking forward to hearing John’s voice, and knowing she wouldn’t, she wasn’t sure how to manage the remorse washing over her.

  The woman sat next to her on the couch. “Here.” She held out a small burner phone and the slip of paper on which the prepared statement was written.

  After a slight hesitation, Spencer snatched the phone and the paper.

  “Say it like you mean it,” the woman instructed.

  Spencer scanned the paper and then made the call.

  “Good job, black Barbie,” the woman said after Spencer did her bidding. “Hopefully he’ll have a change of heart.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “Don’t be surprised if he does,” the woman warned. “Sione is fickle.”

  “Fickle?” Spencer asked, remembering what the woman had said about John hating her. How did the woman know John? Her lazy familiarity suggested more than just a casual acquaintance.

  “Sione bends over backward to get you,” the woman said. “He makes all these promises, professing his undying love and devotion, and then when you fall for him—and you will fall for him, trust me—he decides that he’s no longer interested, and he moves on to the next dumb bitch eager to believe his lies.”

  Trust me, the woman had said, intimating some personal knowledge of the way John treated women.

  “How do you know that?” Spencer asked. “Do you know Sione?”

  “As a matter of fact, I know Sione very well,” she said, emphasizing the word know, using it in the Biblical sense, Spencer thought. Was the woman trying to imply she had been involved with John? Intimately? Romantically? Sexually?

  Smirking, the woman said, “Sione is my ex-fiancé.”

  “Your ex-fiancé?” Spencer struggled to recover from the bomb the woman had just dropped.

  “You’re not the first woman he asked to marry him,” the woman said. “Once upon a time, Sione proposed to me, too. And I said yes.”

  “But you didn’t get married,” Spencer noted. “You said ex-fiancé. Not ex-husband.”

  “No, we didn’t make it down the aisle,” she said. “Didn’t even set a date.”

  “Why not?”

  “Things just didn’t work out for us.” The woman stood. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be. Although sometimes, I wish it could have been.”

  Spencer stayed quiet, waiting for the woman to fill the silence, wondering if the woman would get caught up in the past, reminiscing and regretting, maybe let her guard down and then Spencer could attack her.

  “Sione was the first guy I ever really fell in love with,” the woman said. “The only guy I fell in love with. There was no one before or after him.”

  “How did you and Sione get together?”

  “A’arotanga. A little tiny dot in the Pacific,” the woman said. “Nobody has ever heard of it, but I’m glad because it’s a special place, you know? Unspoiled beauty. You just know that it looks the same way it did when our ancestors arrived. I would be so pissed if it turned into Honolulu.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Spencer said, praying she would have the chance to see the island where John had spent the latter part of his teenage years. She and John would be on the island right now if not for this wicked bitch—his ex-fiancée.

  “It was lovely when I lived there. So was Sione. He was the most beautiful boy I ever saw. As soon as he looked at me with those hazel eyes, I had to have him, and I did.” The woman looked wistful. “All summer. Nothing but blue skies, sunshine, white sand beaches. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. It was so magical I never wanted it to end. But it did. I went back to Oahu to finish my senior year. Then I went to the University of Hawaii, and Sione went back to Belize two years later, but we never broke up.”

  “Until…”

  “What?” The woman scowled.

  “You’re his ex,” Spencer pointed out. “You said it didn’t work out, so you must have broken up.”

  “It was my fault,” the woman said. “Made some bad choices. Stupid decisions. I cheated on him with his best friend. I realize how crazy that was, now. But, at the time, the guy who came between us, he was very sexy, very manipulative. Dangerous. He made me feel like Eve in the Garden of Eden. I fell for his lies.”

  Spencer stared at the woman, still unable to believe John had asked her to marry him. The woman was beautiful, yes, but she was mercenary. And insane. How the hell could she have cheated on a man like John? Spencer couldn’t imagine any man being enticing enough to lure her away from John.

  The woman said, “You know him, actually.”

  “What?”

  “The guy I cheated with,” she said. “You know him.”

  Apprehensive, Spencer said nothing.

  “He’s the same guy who came between you and Sione,” the woman said, smirking. “Ben Chang.”

  38

  The Woodlands, Texas

  Carlton Woods Gated Community

  “Sione, it’s Spencer. Hopefully, by now, you’ve gotten my letter, and I hope you take it to heart. Move on with your life. Your family is probably very happy about this turn of events, and I know your mother is probably not surprised. In time, you’ll realize this was best for the both of us because we probably wouldn’t have lasted a year, anyway.”

  Sione took another sip of scotch and then listened to the voicemail again, closing his eyes. What he hoped to hear was some sort of clue as to where Spencer had been taken. A subtle, almost imperceptible, sound to lead him in the right direction.

  He’d first heard the message a week ago, when Spencer had been taken from him. Spencer’s voice, loud and clear in the suppressed silence of the home office, provided a grim narration of the day he couldn’t get out of his head, the day he’d been reliving for the past week, the day Spencer should have become his wife.

  Standing at the altar, he’d been nervous and worried as Shady had beckoned him, her expression grave. Upstairs in the bride’s waiting room, he’d read the note Spencer had supposedly written.

  Dear Sione,

  This is going to be very painful and difficult for you so I won’t drag it out. I have been thinking a lot about us and our relationship and realize that I just do not love you and I can’t marry you. Please don’t look for me. Just move on with your life, Sione, and find a woman who is truly worthy of you, a woman worthy of your love and a woman worthy to bear your children. Take care of yourself, Sione.

  Goodbye, Spencer

  Immediately suspicious and distrustful, Sione had disputed the words, refusing to believe Spencer had written them even though it was her handwriting.

  “Spencer never calls me Sione,” he’d told the wedding party. “She didn’t write this damn letter.”

  Spencer had been kidnapped.

  Sione was convinced she hadn’t left him of her own volition, and it wasn’t just the wishful thinking of a heartbroken, stunned groom. The police had been called—to pacify him, Sione figured, but he hadn’t cared. The cops suggested Spencer might be a runaway bride, particularly because there were no signs of foul play. Still, Sione had insisted on filing a missing person report though he doubted the police would make any effort to find Spencer.

  After searching the church grounds and surrounding area and every other place her family could think to search, practically all over Houston, the wedding party returned to The Woodlands mansion. In the kitchen, the entire wedding party plus his mother, Carmen, and his aunt Perla and his cousin Peter circled the large center island.

  Everybody seemed to be talking at once, determined to share their own opinions about what the hell should be done, but Sione was only half-listening. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t stop thinking that Spencer had been taken from him, again. He didn’t care that there was no sign of foul play. He didn’t give a damn about that Dear John letter they’d found, the kiss-off s
he had supposedly written.

  A knock on the door shook him.

  Irritated by the interruption, Sione pressed the stop button on the answering machine. He wasn’t really in the mood to deal with another friend or family member, stopping by to provide more insight about their unsolicited advice, two cents, or whatever the hell they felt compelled to share with him about the situation.

  He’d already heard pretty much everything everybody had to say. The consensus was that he’d been left at the altar. Spencer had changed her mind about marrying him. She was a runaway bride. Sione didn’t believe that; he couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

  He knew in his heart, soul, and everywhere else it mattered that her feelings hadn’t changed. More than anything, he knew Spencer hadn’t left him because she was carrying his child. She wasn’t going to go off somewhere and be a single mother. They were committed to, and ecstatic about, raising the baby together.

  Spencer was gone because she’d been taken from him. Again. But he would get her back, just like he had a year ago. No matter what, no matter who the hell had to die.

  The knocking became more insistent.

  “Yeah,” Sione called out, looking toward the door. “Come in.”

  When his mother walked in, Sione was relieved it wasn’t Rae, telling him to back off and give her sister some space and time to figure out what she wanted to do. Or DJ, telling him that if Spencer had been kidnapped it was probably because of something related to her past, when she’d made the mistake of drugging old men and stealing from them. Or Shady, wanting to pray again. Or Truman, trying to convince him that he’d dodged a bullet—especially, as Truman had pulled him aside to say, since Sione hadn’t forced Spencer to sign a prenuptial agreement.

  Still, Sione braced himself. So far, Carmen had resisted giving any motherly advice, opting instead to provide comfort and support in the form of prayers, hugs, and reassuring smiles at just the right moment. The day Spencer had been taken, when the bridal party had convened in the spacious kitchen, Rae and DJ, with their dominant, overbearing alpha tendencies, had each taken on strategic roles, determining and assigning tasks in the search efforts.