by Nora Roberts
He preferred the outburst to the cold control. But he was far from satisfied. “You said you’d call me if you had trouble.”
“I can handle this.”
“Like hell.” He moved fast, grabbing her arms, shaking her before she could shoot out the first protest. “If it’s the tapes someone’s so desperate to get, they’ll go through you next time. For Christ’s sake, Julia, is it worth it? Is a book, a few weeks on the best-seller list, a five-minute spot on Carson worth all this?”
Every bit as livid as he, she jerked away, rubbing her arms where his fingers had dug in. The wind whipped up enough to beat the rain like impatient fingers against the glass. “You know it’s more than that. You of all people should know. I have something of value to do with this. What I’ll write about Eve will be richer, more poignant, more powerful than any fiction.”
“And if you’d been home when they’d broken in?”
“They wouldn’t have broken in if I’d been here,” she countered. “Obviously, they waited until the house was empty. Be logical.”
“Fuck logic. I’m not taking chances with you.”
“You’re not—”
“No, by Christ, I’m not.” Cold fury had become hot as he heaved a table aside. More glass shattered, like thunder answering the rain. “Do you expect me to stand by and do nothing? Whoever was in here wasn’t just looking for tapes, he was desperately trying to find them.” He snatched up a mangled cushion and shoved it at her. “Look at this. Look at it, dammit. It might have been you.”
It hadn’t occurred to her, not for a second, and she resented that his words had the image leaping so vividly in her mind. She fought back a shudder and let the cushion fall to the floor. “I’m not a piece of furniture, Paul. Nor is it up to you to make decisions for me. Spending an afternoon in bed together doesn’t make you responsible for my welfare.”
Slowly, he clamped his hands on the lapels of her jacket. Anger and fear rode a thin blade of hurt that cut quick and deep. “It was more than an afternoon in bed, but that’s another problem you’ll have to deal with. Right now you’re in the position where a fucking book is putting you at risk.”
“And if I would ever have considered backing off from this work, this would have changed my mind. I will not run away from this kind of intimidation.”
“Well said,” Eve stated from the doorway. Her hair was wet, as was the cashmere sweater she’d tugged on so hastily after Travers’s call. Her face was very pale as she stepped into the house, but her voice was strong and steady. “It appears we have someone running scared, Julia.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Paul whirled on Eve with a rush of anger he’d never shown toward her. “Are you actually enjoying this? Lapping up satisfaction at the thought that someone would do this because of you? What have you come to, Eve, when your vanity, your attempt at immortality, is worth any price?”
Very carefully, she lowered herself to the arm of the damaged sofa, pulled out a cigarette, lighted it. Odd, she thought, she’d been sure Victor was the only man who could hurt her. How much sharper, how much deeper was the pain when it was stabbed into her by a man she thought of as her son.
“Enjoying it,” she said slowly. “Do I enjoy seeing my property destroyed or having my guest’s privacy invaded?” On a sigh, she blew out smoke. “No, I don’t. Do I enjoy knowing that someone is so terrified at what I may tell the world that they would risk a foolish and futile move like this? Yes, by Christ, I do.”
“It’s not just you who’s involved in this.”
“Julia and Brandon will be taken care of.” She tapped an ash carelessly on the rubble on the floor. With every beat of her heart her head pounded viciously. “Travers is seeing to guest rooms in the main house right now. Julia, you are both welcome to stay there as long as you like, or to move back here once we have made it habitable again.” She glanced up, keeping her eyes and her voice carefully neutral. “Or, of course, you are free to abandon the project altogether.”
In an unplanned gesture of alliance, Julia moved to Eve’s side. “I have no intention of abandoning the project. Or you.”
“Integrity,” Eve said with a smile, “is an enviable trait.”
“Blind stubbornness isn’t,” Paul retorted. He snapped his gaze to Julia. “It’s obvious neither of you want or need my help.”
Eve rose stiffly when he strode out of the house. In silence, she watched Julia look after him. “The male ego,” Eve murmured as she crossed the room to put an arm around Julia’s shoulders. “It’s a huge and fragile thing. I always envision it as an enormous penis made of thin glass.”
Despite her churning emotions, Julia laughed.
“That’s better.” Eve bent to pick up a shard of a broken vase, using it as an ashtray. “He’ll be back, darling. Puffing and blowing in all likelihood, but he’s too firmly hooked not to come reeling back.” Smiling, she tapped the cigarette out, then, with a shrug, tossed it and the bit of porcelain into the rubble. “Do you think I can’t tell you’ve been together?”
“I really don’t think—”
“Don’t think.” Wanting a breath of fresh air, Eve moved to the open door. She liked the rain, the way it fell cool on her face. She’d come to the point where she appreciated life’s little things. “I could see instantly what had happened between you. And that you’ve quietly, effortlessly, shuttled me out of first place in his affections.”
“He was angry,” Julia began. And because she was suddenly aware that her own head was pounding, she pulled her hair free of the pins.
“Yes, and rightfully so. I’ve put his woman in a difficult, perhaps dangerous position.”
“Oh, come in out of that rain. You’ll catch a cold.” She bristled under Eve’s amused glance. “And I’m my own woman.”
“One must be.” Obligingly, Eve stepped back inside. It relieved her to see youth standing there. Youth, courage, and temper. “Even when one belongs to a man, one must be one’s own woman. However much you love him, or come to love him, hold on to yourself.” The pain radiated so quickly, so sharply, she cried out and pressed the heel of her hand above her left eye.
“What is it?” Julia was at her side in an instant, taking her weight. On an oath, she half carried Eve to what was left of the sofa. “You’re ill. I’ll call a doctor.”
“No. No.” Before Julia could spring to a phone, Eve had her hand. “It’s merely stress, overwork, delayed shock. Whatever. I often get headaches.” She could nearly smile at the grim understatement. “If you’d get me a glass of water.”
“All right. It’ll take only a minute.”
Once Julia had gone to the kitchen to search for an unbroken glass, Eve dug in her canvas bag for the pills. The pain was coming more often—as the doctors had said it would. It was becoming more vicious—again living up to the prediction. She shook out two pills, then forced herself to replace one. She wouldn’t give into the temptation to double the dose. Not yet. When Julia returned with the water, she’d replaced the bottle, and held the single pill in her palm.
Julia had also brought along a cool rag—and as she would have done for Brandon, stroked Eve’s forehead with it as Eve swallowed the medication.
“Thank you. You have a very soothing touch.”
“Just relax until you feel better.” Where had all this affection sprung from? Julia wondered as she patiently sought to ease the pain. She smiled as Eve’s hand reached for hers. Somewhere along the line a friendship had been formed, that woman-to-woman bond no man could possibly understand.
“You’re a comfort to me, Julia. In more ways than one.” The pain was almost tolerable now. Still, she sat with her eyes closed, letting the cool, competent touch soothe her. “I very much regret our paths were so late in crossing. Wasted time. Remember, I told you that’s the only genuine regret.”
“I like to think that no time’s ever wasted. That things happen when they’re meant to happen.”
“I hope you’re right.” She fell
silent again, sorting out the things she had left to do. “I arranged for Lyle to deliver Brandon straight to the main house. I thought you’d prefer that.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“It’s little enough to make up for this disruption of your life.” Stronger, more certain, she opened her eyes again. “You checked on the tapes.”
“They’re still there.”
She only nodded. “I leave for Georgia at the end of the week. When I come back, we’ll finish this, you and I.”
“I still have several interviews left to do.”
“There’ll be time.” She’d make sure of it. “While I’m gone, I don’t want you to worry about this.”
Julia cast a look around the room. “It’s a little difficult not to.”
“No need. I know who did this.”
Julia stiffened, backed away. “You know. Then—”
“It was simply a matter of checking with the guard at the gate.” Recovered, she rose and laid a hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Trust me. I will take care of this matter.”
Drake tossed clothes frantically into a suitcase. Neatly laundered and folded shirts were heaved in among shoes, belts, rumpled trousers.
He had to get away, and quickly. With less than five thousand to his name after a desperate and losing session at Santa Anita, and no tapes to bargain with, he didn’t dare keep his appointment with Delrickio. So he would go somewhere Delrickio couldn’t find him.
Argentina maybe, or Japan. He heaved argyle socks on top of swim trunks. It might be better if he went to Omaha first, laid low. Who the hell would look for Drake Morrison in Omaha?
His mother couldn’t drag him out behind the barn for a beating anymore. She couldn’t force him to prayer meetings or feed him bread and water to cleanse his body and soul of impurities.
He could stay there on the farm for a couple of weeks until he’d pulled himself together. And maybe he could finesse a few thousand out of his old lady. God knew she’d made enough off him—taking the money Eve had sent and pouring it into the farm, or into the church.
He deserved something, didn’t he? From her. From Eve. After all, he was the only child. Hadn’t he lived with crazy Ada for the first half of his life, and worked for Eve the second?
They owed him.
“Drake.” He had his arms filled with socks and silk underwear. It all fluttered to the floor when Eve strolled in. “How did you—”
She held up a key, jingling it. “You’ve often imposed on Nina to water your plants when you’re out of town.” She slipped the key into her pocket, daring him to comment, then sat on the bed. “Taking a trip?”
“I had some business come up.”
“Abruptly.” Her eyebrows shot up as she scanned the results of his frantic packing. “That’s no way to treat a five-thousand-dollar suit.”
The itching of his thighs had him grinding his teeth. “I’ll have to have everything pressed when I get there.”
“And where is there, dear?”
“New York,” he said, considering it an inspiration. “You’re my favorite client, Eve, but not the only. I have, ah, some details to iron out on a television deal.”
She tilted her head to study him. “You must be very ruffled to lie so poorly. One of your best—perhaps your only—skill is your ability to lie with complete sincerity.”
He wanted to show annoyance, but the panic shone through. “Listen, Eve, I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to fill you in on my plans, but I have obligations that don’t center on you.”
“Let’s cut straight through the shit, shall we?” Her voice was pleasant. The expression on her face wasn’t. “I know you broke into the guest house late this morning.”
“Broke in?” Sweat streamed down his face. When he laughed, it came out as a croak. “Why the hell would I do anything like that?”
“Exactly my question. I have no doubt you were the one who broke in before and stole from me. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am, Drake, that one of my few remaining blood relatives would find it necessary to steal.”
“I don’t have to take this from you.” He slammed the suitcase shut. Unconsciously, he began to dig at his thighs. “Look around, Eve. Does it seem like I’d have to steal a few trinkets from you?”
“Yes. When a man insists on living well beyond his means, he opens himself up to larceny.” She let out a weary sigh as she lit a cigarette. “Is it gambling again?”
“I told you I gave that up.” His tone was almost indignant.
She blew smoke to the ceiling, then leveled her eyes back to his. “You’re a liar, Drake. And unless you want me to go to the police with my suspicions, you’ll stop being a liar as of this instant. How much are you down?”
He collapsed, folding like a house of cards under a child’s whistling breath “Eighty-three thousand, and interest.”
Eve’s lips thinned. “Idiot. To whom?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Delrickio.”
She sprang up, snatching a shoe off the bed and heaving it at him. Whimpering, Drake crossed his arms over his face to protect it. “You goddamn simpering fool. I told you, I warned you. Fifteen years ago I pulled you out from under that slime. And again, ten years ago.”
“I had a bad run.”
“Asshole. You haven’t had a good run in your life. Delrickio! Jesus Christ! He eats sniveling little wimps like you for breakfast.” Furious, she tossed her cigarette on the carpet and ground it out before snatching Drake by the shirtfront. “You were after the tapes for him, weren’t you? You fucking traitor, you were going to feed them to him to save your own skin.”
“He’ll kill me.” His eyes and nose were running as he babbled up at her. “He’ll do it, Eve. He’s already had one of his goons give me a beating. He wants to listen to the tapes, that’s all. I didn’t figure it would hurt anything, and maybe he’d forgive part of the debt. I only—”
She slapped him, hard enough to snap his head back. “Pull yourself together. You’re pathetic.” She released him to pace the room while he dragged out a handkerchief to mop up his face.
“I panicked. Christ almighty, Eve, you don’t understand what it’s like, living with what he can do to me. All for eighty fucking thousand.”
“Eighty fucking thousand you don’t happen to have.” Calmer, she turned back. “You betrayed me, Drake, my trust, my affection. I know your childhood was crap, but that’s no excuse for turning on someone who tried to give you a chance.”
“I’m scared.” He started to weep again. “If I don’t give him the money in two days, he’ll kill me. I know it.”
“And the tapes were to plug the dike. Well, too bad, darling, no dice.”
“They don’t have to be real.” He struggled to his feet. “We could fake some, pass them off.”
“And he’d kill you later for lying to him. Lies always surface, Drake. Believe me.”
While he choked on the truth of that, his eyes darted around the room, afraid to settle anywhere. “I’m going to go away. Get out of the country—”
“You’re going to stay right here and face the music like a man. For once in your pitiful life, you’re going to deal with the consequences.”
“I’ll be dead,” he said, lips quivering.
She pulled open her bag and took out a checkbook. She had come prepared, but that didn’t diminished the anger, or the sadness. “One hundred thousand,” she said as she sat and wrote. “That should take care of your debt, your interest.”
“Oh. Oh, Christ, Eve.” He fell at her feet, burying his face in her knees. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Simply listen. You will take this check. You will not use one penny of it for gambling, but take the money to Delrickio.”
“I will.” Sheer delight transfigured his wet face. It gleamed like a converted saint. “I swear it.”
“And this will be your final transaction with that man. If I ever hear of you doing business with him again
, I’ll kill you myself—in a way that even Delrickio would respect and admire.”
His head bounced on his neck in enthusiastic nods. He’d promise anything, anything at all, and mean it—at least temporarily—-for salvation.
“I would suggest that you seek therapy for your addiction.”
“It’s no problem. I’m through with it. I swear.”
“As you have sworn before, but that’s your business.” Revolted, she pushed him aside and rose. The affection and hope she’d once had for this child of her sister was gone. She knew they would not be back. Once the disgust and anger faded, there might be pity. But nothing more. “I don’t really give a shit if you waste your life, Drake, I’ve saved it for the last time. You’re fired.”
“Eve, you can’t mean that.” He struggled to his feet, using his most charming smile. “I fucked up, I admit it. It was stupid, and it won’t happen again.”
“Fucked up?” Nearly amused, she tapped her fingers against her bag. “What a convenient expression, it covers so much ground. You broke into my home, you stole from me, you destroyed things I was fond of, and you invaded the privacy of a woman I am more than fond of, a woman I respect and admire, and who is a guest in my home.” She threw up a hand before he could speak. “I’m not telling you you won’t work in this town again, Drake. That’s much too melodramatic and clichéd. But you won’t work for me again.”
His sense of relief and delight had faded. A lecture would have been one thing—a few threats he could have handled. But this kind of punishment was worse, and more permanent than a few licks with a belt behind the barn. He’d be damned if he’d stand for being whipped by a woman again.
“You’ve got no right to treat me this way, to toss me aside like I was nothing.”