Treachery Rising (MidKnight Blue Book 4)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Rick threw open the door, having obviously been listening. His eyes burned with anger that Joe had told her about Sheila, and he felt just a bit more of his pride slip away as David turned to look at him. Theland had not been aware of her daughter’s conniving the last time Rick and she were together.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Rick said to him, not meeting the other man’s eyes. David walked into the house again, closing the door behind him. Rick’s eyes narrowed at Midnight. “What the fuck do you want?” he said, holding himself back from moving toward her. She stood two steps below him, about eight feet away. She was looking up at him, her eyes narrowed as well.

  “Just get Keyla out here now, Rick.” Her voice was strong and clear.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, not affected by her tone.

  Midnight stared at him for a long moment, seeing his anger and knowing this was just the beginning of his revenge for what she and Joe had done. She walked up the steps, right up to him, and even though she had to look up at him, she didn’t seem the least bit inferior. “Get her, now,” she said, her voice low and deadly.

  “No,” Rick replied simply, and was very surprised when, with a yell, Midnight launched herself into him, shoving him backward against the door he’d come through minutes before. He slammed into it. Midnight had two handfuls of his shirt, her face a mere inch from his. “If you don’t go in there and get her now, I will.” This time it was a threat, and Rick didn’t doubt her for a second.

  “They won’t let you in,” he countered, his voice belying his disgust with her behavior.

  “No?” Midnight said, as if honestly surprised. She released him and stepped back. She reached around and grabbed her Beretta from its holster, pulling back the slide ominously. “We’ll see about that.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Rick said confidently.

  “Wanna bet your girlfriend’s life on it?” Midnight stepped toward him and the door. Rick reached out with lightning speed and grabbed her wrist, yanking her around so that her back was to him. Still holding her wrist, the gun pointed toward the sky, he had his arm up around her neck in a sleeper hold, and Midnight knew if she struggled he’d increase the pressure until she passed out, so she relaxed. After a few minutes Rick decided she’d thought better of her hasty action and let her go. Midnight took two steps away from him, making sure to be out of arm’s reach, then turned, pointing the gun directly at his head.

  “Now, get the fuck out of my way, or I swear to God, Rick, I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Her voice was calm this time, and Rick knew that was a definite sign of danger. He stared into her eyes.

  “Do it,” he said, surprising her.

  “I’m serious, Rick.”

  “So am I,” he said, swallowing hard against the knot in his throat. His eyes showed the strain he’d been under since finding out about Midnight and Joe. “I can’t go on like this anyway, so do it.” His voice was without any emotion at all, but his eyes spoke volumes.

  Midnight stared back at him for a long moment. “I just want my daughter.” She sounded tired, but the gun never wavered.

  “We all want something,” Rick said simply.

  “Damn it, Rick,” Midnight said, her anger igniting again. “You’re not the kind of man to hide behind a little girl—don’t do this to her.”

  Rick’s eyes closed at the impact of her words. “Don’t do this to me,” he said quietly. A moment later he turned, opened the door, and walked inside. Midnight put away her gun, not sure what Rick was doing, but aware that she couldn’t shoot him anyway. A few minutes later, Mikeyla came running out the door and launched herself into her mother’s arms, totally unaware of what had just occurred between her parents.

  “Mommy!” she shouted gleefully.

  “Hi, baby,” Midnight said, hugging the girl close to her. She looked up and saw Rick standing in the doorway, his eyes very serious and, from what Midnight could see, very sad as well. She was beginning to feel like the bad guy here, and she didn’t like that. After a long moment she set Mikeyla down and knelt beside her. “How’d you like to stay with Daddy a few more days?”

  “How come?” Mikeyla asked.

  “Well, because he hasn’t gotten to see you as much as me lately, and I just want you to have a chance to be with him too.” Midnight made a point of not looking at Rick. “And maybe Daddy can drop you off on Friday, and then we’ll spend the whole weekend together. How does that sound?”

  “Yeah!” Mikeyla said, happy at the prospect of a whole weekend with her mother.

  “Okay, baby, be a good girl and go back inside now. I’ve got to talk to Daddy for a minute.”

  “Okay, Mommy. Love you!” the little girl said as she hugged her mother’s leg. Midnight knelt down, kissing her cheek and hugging her again.

  Mikeyla went back into the house and Midnight stood, facing Rick. He just looked at her, and she stepped forward. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement on shared custody for the time being,” she said. But the words didn’t change the look in his eyes.

  “How could you, Midnight?” he said, and she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  Midnight sighed. She turned and started to walk away, but Rick grabbed her from behind, spinning her around to face him. Midnight felt her head swim with the quick movement, but she clamped down on the nausea.

  “Answer me,” Rick said, unaware of her unstable condition.

  “I can’t.” Midnight’s voice was devoid of anger as she concentrated on fighting the waves of nausea. If she threw up now he’d know instantly about her pregnancy, and she didn’t want him to find out any sooner than necessary. “No more than you can explain to me why you’re with her.” Midnight nodded toward the house.

  “Midnight,” Rick said, his voice softening. He was very affected by her proximity. She saw the look in his eyes and pulled away from him instantly.

  “Don’t, Rick,” she said sternly.

  Rick’s face changed suddenly. “Oh, I see,” he said, his voice turning hateful. “You can cheat on me, but not Joe, is that it?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said defensively.

  “Yeah, I think I do. You better enjoy it now, Midnight, because he’s not gonna be the same when I get done with him.” His voice was icy, and Midnight did not doubt what he had said.

  “Yeah? Well, why don’t you send Sheila out, and I’ll see how much damage I can do to her pretty little face,” she said venomously.

  “Wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Midnight said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’d probably have to fight her daddy too, since he seems to fight everybody’s battles for them in this house.” With that she spun around and walked down the steps. She turned back, her eyes green points of fire. “And if I were you, I’d seriously reconsider trying anything with Joe.”

  “Why’s that?” Rick asked, leaning casually against the doorjamb.

  “Because if you touch him, I’ll kill you and her.” Midnight walked to her car. She got in and, without looking at him again, drove off.

  “Nice girl,” Sheila said from behind him, and Rick had to fight the urge to slap her. Sheila was always talking Midnight down, especially with her friends. Rick had long since discovered that Sheila was a heartless bitch, but he had stayed with her to get back at Midnight. There had been times when he had wanted to slap a few of the women Sheila hung out with on a frequent basis. They were cold and mean, but they tried to coat it with a veneer of refinement. Rick found himself ever weary of the double-edged statements and looks. Sheila treated him like the errant suitor, all the while assuring him that she cared about him deeply and that she had just been stung by his rejection of her so many years before. She constantly chided him for his poor judgement at having done so. She touted him to her friends as being totally devoted to her now that he had realized the error of his ways.

  Little did Sheila know that more than one of her dearest friends had their eye on
Rick. His rakish good looks and obvious rebellious streak attracted socialites as easily as it had attracted the girls when he was in the gang in London. One woman, Anastasia Themopoulos, a Mediterranean socialite whose daddy owned a few islands, was particularly direct about her desire to get him into bed. She had approached him on a number of occasions, once when he was actually in the bedroom that Rick and Sheila shared in the Theland home. Rick had gone there to get away from Sheila and her associates for a while. They had started in on “the little people” again, and Rick could only feel sick at their attitude toward anyone they considered beneath them.

  He was lying on the bed with his arm over his eyes when he sensed someone enter the room. He assumed it was Sheila coming to look for him, so he said nothing. When he felt well-manicured nails trail along his forearm, he moved it, looking up at the raven-haired socialite.

  “Just where I want you,” Anastasia said provocatively, her eyes all but devouring him. He had been wearing white pants and a navy blue cotton shirt, open at the throat. When Rick didn’t say anything she reached down and touched his chest, her eyes boring into his. Rick sat up, not wanting to be at a disadvantage with this woman.

  “I think you should go back downstairs, Ana,” he said, eyeing her warily.

  “And I think you should think about what I have to offer you,” she replied, her eyes indicating her confidence.

  “And what’s that?” Rick felt very tired suddenly, not in the mood to play games with this woman.

  “Anything you want. I could make you a king,” Anastasia replied. Her daddy’s money had made her bold over the years.

  “I see.” Rick looked as if he were considering her offer.

  Anastasia moved in, pushing him back against the headboard and straddling his body. She was very athletic, and her always-tanned legs were like steel. Rick just looked at her, as if watching an interesting play. She reached out, unbuttoning his shirt and running her nails down his chest appreciatively.

  “You are such a beautiful man,” she said, making him grin at the irony that she would say something in a way that a man would normally say it to a woman. She took his grin to mean he was giving in, and moved to kiss him. Her lips were aggressive on his, her tongue darting into his mouth, running along his lips seductively. Rick found it almost impossible not to respond to such a sexually aggressive situation. This was the kind of thing that most men dreamed about, and Rick found himself thinking, I should just do her right here. But his sense of propriety overrode the thought almost as soon as it came to him. He placed his hands on Anastasia’s waist and hefted her easily from his lap. He set her on her feet at the side of the bed. Anastasia was shocked at such rejection, and became venomous at once.

  “You bastard!” she spat. “You presume to reject me? I can have anyone I want, and you think I need you—bah! You’re not such a prize!” The haughtiness in her voice ignited his anger, and he jumped up from the bed, grabbing her by the shoulders and backing her up against the wall. His eyes were blazing fire, and Anastasia was excited by the look in them instantly, but she remained outwardly cool.

  “What is this?” she said, feigning mild interest. “You think you can scare me, or excite me like some schoolgirl?” She laughed, a manicured, sophisticated sound. “You’re a mere passing interest, not my ultimate obsession.”

  “That so?” Rick said, feigning hurt, the look on his face not changing as he lowered his mouth to take possession of hers. His lips bruised hers with their pressure as he forced her to submit to him, his hands moving suggestively down her body. Within moments she was breathless, moaning for him to take her. She cried out as his lips and hands left her suddenly, and looked up to see his cold smile, his eyes sparkling with victory. He walked out, leaving her standing in his wake.

  Anastasia Themopoulos was shocked by his actions, but his aberrant behavior made him all the more appealing to her. She eventually followed him back downstairs, where he was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, leisurely watching Sheila and her friends as they talked on about the latest gossip. Anastasia looked at him and found him staring at her in return. His lips twisted in a sardonic smile when he saw how that look affected her.

  That hadn’t been the only time when one of Sheila’s friends had tried to seduce him away from her, but it was the most direct. Rick still found it amusing that Sheila seemed to have no idea. He was not currently amused, however. The thought of Midnight sleeping with Joe again just burned in his mind, and all he wanted to do was kill him and take his wife back.

  Sheila watched him as he walked back into the house and shut the door. He stood facing it for a long time, resting his head against it. He felt the fury of the confrontation moments before still surging through him. Mikeyla had run off to tell Sheila’s mother that she got to stay longer. It had been the little girl’s laughter and voice that had brightened his mood the day before when he got back to Sheila’s house. He had been very surprised when Midnight had not returned from Sacramento on Sunday, and he had had little choice but to take her to the Thelands with him that night. He had been astounded when Angela, Sheila’s mother, had volunteered to entertain the little girl on Monday so he could go into the office for a few hours. Angela seemed thoroughly enchanted with his daughter.

  Angela Theland was very attentive to all the occurrences in her household. Although she liked Rick very much, and always had, she did not approve of Rick leaving his wife and sneaking around with Sheila. Angela was fully aware of her daughter’s indiscretion; she also knew that Sheila was a spoiled, pampered brat who needed to be taken in hand, but she had long since given up that fight. Sheila was the apple of her daddy’s eye, and David always found ways to forgive her outrageous behavior. Angela had, on the other hand, liked Rick’s wife the one time she met her, and had found it endlessly amusing that the woman had seen fit to put David in his place on that occasion. David still sputtered angrily if the confrontation was brought up.

  Angela had witnessed the encounter between Rick and Midnight on the steps of her house, and had been taken aback by the violence with which Midnight had treated Rick. But she had realized that the woman was basically fighting for her child. Angela could understand that, being a mother herself. Whatever flaws her daughter had, Angela loved her and would do anything to keep her from actual danger. Now, not keeping her from getting burned by someone like Richard Joshua Debenshire, on the other hand, would serve the girl right.

  Later that evening, after Mikeyla was asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Angela approached Rick. He was alone in the library, sitting in one of the oversized antique armchairs with his legs stretched out in front of him and a bottle of whiskey in his grasp. He looked every bit the rebellious youth he had been when he dated her daughter years before.

  “Rick,” Angela said quietly, sounding very American; most older English women called him by his given name. Angela was not English, and she did not put on any airs of trying to be.

  He looked up at her, and she could tell that he’d been drinking for a while. He gestured to the chair across from him, trying futilely to straighten up. He assumed she was just putting up with him so her daughter would be happy, like David was doing, so he felt it necessary to try and hide not only his inebriation but also his remorse over his wife.

  “You’re fine,” Angela said, observing his attempt to straighten his clothes. Then she looked more closely at his face. “But you’re not, are you?” Her voice was sympathetic, and Rick was surprised.

  He didn’t answer for a few moments, then shook his head slowly.

  “Your wife?” she asked, although she knew the question was rhetorical.

  Rick looked at her sharply, surprised by her insight. He was also surprised that she didn’t seem upset about him being so distressed about his wife. He was beginning to realize that Angela Theland was nothing like her husband and daughter.

  “I saw your exchange earlier,” Angela said by way of explanation. “Your wife is rather passionate, isn’t she?” The
re wasn’t a trace of criticism in her voice.

  “That’s an interesting way to put it,” Rick replied, grinning. He nodded. “She’s very passionate about certain things—work, Mikeyla, and her partner.” He sounded angry again as he added the last.

  “I think she’s passionate about you as well.”

  Rick narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to decide if she was crazy. “I think you don’t know what’s goin’ on right now, or you wouldn’t say that.” His voice held no accusation, but his eyes flashed at the memory of everything that had happened.

  “I think I can surmise much more than you realize, and I don’t think that one has anything to do with the other—and if it does, it’s only because of your current actions with my daughter.” Again her voice held no accusation, nor any maternal protectiveness for her daughter’s heart.

  Rick shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “Don’t I? Let me see if I have it right. You cheated on your wife with my daughter, your wife found out, and now she’s found solace in the arms of another man; and you’re still very much in love with her, so you’re very angry about the union. Is that right?”

  Rick looked at Angela Theland with new respect. It was obvious that she kept better tabs on the goings on around her than he had originally assumed, even if she wasn’t totally correct. “Yeah, but you left out a few small details, like that the guy she’s sleepin’ with is my best friend,” Rick said angrily, thinking about Joe’s betrayal.

  “And he’s her partner—and how long has that been?” Angela asked, trying to get all the information so that she could make a fair assessment of the situation.

  “Seven years or so, but what difference does that make?” Rick said, angry that she seemed to be trying to find a way to excuse his best friend’s treachery.

  “And you’ve been with her for how long?” Angela looked at him pointedly.

  “Over four, but—”

  “So she’s been close to him for longer, and yet you seem to think she should have just sat by and waited for you to finish your affair. Or would you have rather that she slept with someone you didn’t know? Would that have been easier for you?”