Minutes later, he opened the trunk, clutched the bottle of scotch tightly in his fist. He was only a few blocks away from home but he sped all the way home, nearly ran a red light. The tooting of a horn was the only thing that stopped him. Hopping out of the car as soon as it rocked to a stop, he ran to the door and twisted the knob. He’d forgotten to lock it.
In the kitchen, he drew the bottle out of the bag. He could already taste it on his tongue. Feel the slow burn down his throat. His hands were shaking.
Owen could take a lot of things, but the fact that his baby hated him, actually hated him just ripped him to pieces. His little girl had always been the apple of his eye. And she despised him. A man loses the respect of his children, what does he have left?
But he could forget all that. With just one drink. Alcohol was a good therapist. He’d forget she hated him. He’d forget she didn’t want a thing to do with him. He’d forget the awful things he had done to his wife.
The hell with it. He was a drunk. That’s what they made him realize in AA. Once a drunk, always a drunk. That wasn’t ever going to change.
He’d forget everything with the bottle. And he wanted that anonymity.
With shaky hands he uncapped the bottle, licked his lips, and carried the bottle to his lips. He inhaled the sweet aroma. The spout was only an inch away from his lips when he smashed the bottle in the sink, splashing the contents as he hit the bottle again and again until only a tiny shard was left in his hand.
“Damn! Damn! Damn!”
He was a drunk, but he didn’t have to drink. They made him realize that, too, in AA.
Holding his hand out, he saw blood dripping from it. It was then that he felt the pain from the cut. He turned the water on and ran it over his hand, then he took a towel from the counter and wrapped it around the injury. One by one, he picked up the pointed shards and threw them in the trash. Then he rinsed the remains of the liquor down the drain. But the sharp scent remained in the air.
Owen stood at the sink gazing out the window where his wife used to plant a small vegetable garden each year while Quilla played in the sandbox he’d built for her. Or played in the little playhouse that took hours for him to assemble.
There had been a time when he’d looked at his family with pride and pleasure. There had been a time when Quilla would run to him begging to be tossed in the air. When she trusted him to catch her.
She didn’t trust him anymore.
The scent of scotch smelled like sweet nectar. But liquor had cost him his daughter. He couldn’t go back to the beginning. He wondered how he’d ever bridge the gap between them.
Finally he walked to the phone, but before he picked it up, it rang.
His baby had been shot.
Chapter 11
Tom had a lot to accomplish before he boarded the plane. At six he closed his suitcase as Wendy came from the bathroom fresh from her shower. She wore a towel wrapped around her and a mysterious smirk he didn’t quite trust.
“Leaving so early?” she asked.
“I have some paperwork to take care of before I leave.”
“I thought we’d have breakfast together.”
“Another time, sweets.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back late tomorrow.”
She dropped the towel and closed the distance between them. Tilting her head, she kissed him. Tom put his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him for a long kiss. He ran his thumb over her nipples while she dragged her hands beneath his jacket and caressed his back.
She had a nice, hard body, Tom thought. Not lush, but that was okay. He could get that elsewhere.
When he let her go she was tugging at his clothes.
“Hold that thought for tomorrow night,” he said, stepping back.
“You sure?” Her hair had fallen in a halo around her face. For a second Tom wavered. Perhaps he should give her a few minutes. After all, it had been awhile since they’d last made love.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said.
“I can’t wait. I’ll take full advantage when I get back.” He kissed her one last time and left.
Alexandria was still sleepy when he drove the quiet streets. Just a few cars were about. The decorations were lit all night and made the streets festive and cheerful. He was happy, too. He wished he could take Melissa to Arizona with him, but that wasn’t possible. Edward would find out if he did.
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the hotel parking lot. He was horny as hell as he rode the elevator up to the tenth floor. After a light tap, the door flew open. Melissa stood there with all her generous curves displayed to their advantage in her negligee. He shut the door and she moved forward, slid her leg up his, and molded her body against him. He felt the pinpoints of her nipples against his chest, inhaled the sweet smell of her perfume. He felt himself hardening.
She wasn’t as lush as Sadie, nor as challenging or sassy, but she was available.
When she smiled up at him, he put Sadie out of his mind to live in the moment. “Just the response I like,” she whispered. Stepping back, she grabbed his tie and tugged him over the threshold with a come-hither gesture.
“I’ve been waiting for you, big boy.”
Denton was leaving his building when Jake reached him on his cell phone.
“Yeah?”
“It’s not serious, just a flesh wound, but I thought you’d want to know Quilla’s been shot.”
“What?”
“It’s not life threatening.”
“Where is she?”
“On her way to the hospital.”
“Where? Alexandria? How is she?” he barked.
“She’s frightened.”
Less than two minutes later, Denton was pulling out of the garage. Traffic was hell in this city during rush hour, and Denton was one who didn’t believe in cutting people off, but now he merged in and out of traffic from the time he got in his car until he finally pulled onto the hospital grounds.
He sprinted into the building asking for Quilla.
“The doctor is with her right now. Are you family?”
“Her fiancé.”
“This way.” The nurse led him to the cubicle where the doctor was patching her up. Officer Wilson was standing outside the curtain with Quilla’s father. Owen Day looked like a man haunted. His daughter was all he had left. Denton didn’t know the demons that caused a man to abuse his wife, but it was apparent that he loved his daughter.
“Did they find the shooter?” Denton asked.
Quilla’s father tightened his mouth. “You’ve got to find him, Trait. A person like that has no business on the streets. He’ll come after her again. And what about that girl Sadie? Found her body yet?”
“A body matching her description hasn’t turned up yet,” Trait said.
“Trait, I know you didn’t believe there was a body, at least that’s what the news said. If the girl wasn’t dead, they wouldn’t need to come after my daughter.”
“We’ll look into it, sir.”
“I don’t want her dead before you do anything. I’m a taxpayer. Been paying taxes here for nearly thirty-five years. I’ve got a right to some justice.”
“Mr. Day, we’re doing our best.”
The doctor came out just then and the three men entered the tiny cubicle. Quilla’s father looked indecisive, but even in the face of impending rejection, he walked over to his daughter and put his arms around her.
Surprisingly, she hugged him back with her one good arm. A white bandage circled her left arm and stood out in stark relief against her brown skin.
Denton let out a sigh but let father and daughter have their moment before he intruded. Trait wasn’t as accommodating.
“Quilla. I need to talk to you.”
“Do you believe me now?”
“We’re looking into it.” Denton noticed the detective never confirmed her allegations.
“Was anyone else shot?” Quilla asked.
Trait shook his head. “Just you.”
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“He was aiming for you,” her father said.
The nurse returned with instructions for Quilla and ushered them out of the cubicle. After the nurse left, Trait questioned Quilla for about ten minutes.
“I’m taking you to my apartment,” Denton said.
“Hold it. She’s going home with me,” her father said.
“Your place will be the first place they look. She’s too easily accessible there.”
Owen Day looked as stubborn as Quilla could be.
“I live in a secure building. Only residents have access.”
“Nothing is secure.”
“She’ll never be alone. Irving will be with her during the day. I’ll be with her in the evenings. I’ll take good care of her, sir.”
Owen still wasn’t buying it, but after much debate, Denton finally convinced him. Owen didn’t like the idea of her living with a man, but Denton assured him he had two bedrooms, although he planned to use only one. He didn’t lie—exactly.
Irving was waiting for them at the store when they arrived.
“Look, it’s my busy season. Regina can’t handle all this alone,” Quilla said.
“You were just shot. You can’t work today. You lost some blood and you need at least tonight to recuperate,” Denton insisted.
“I can work in your place,” her dad said. Both of them stopped arguing and faced him.
“You don’t know anything about retail,” Quilla said, “or about baking.”
“Sure, I do. My parents owned a country store. I used to work there when I was a little boy.”
She hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. “You never mentioned that. Neither did Aunt Ruby.”
“Ruby was too young to remember.”
“Well, things have changed since then. Including the cash registers.”
“Your assistant can show me. I can cook. I can bake, too.”
“Dad, I know you want to help—”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Denton said, cutting off the argument. “Lucky can spend the day with you. But you can’t walk her, is that clear?” Denton glanced at her father. “Can you come by at lunchtime and walk her?”
“Sure.”
“Listen, I lived twenty-nine years without you,” Quilla said, at the end of her rope. She was irked at the way everyone just gave her orders. “I don’t need you taking over my life.”
“It’s time somebody told you something. Now that you’ve been shot, do you think you can listen to reason?” He looked at Irving. “I’ll be back around one. You can take off then.”
Quilla threw her hands in the air. The sharp pain reminded her what had happened. “Just forget I’m here,” Quilla said, gingerly lowering her arm. She was determined not to lose her control.
“Listen, lady. You lost control the moment someone shot you. Actually, the moment you found Sadie’s body and started stirring up trouble. So . . .” He gathered her gently in his arms and kissed her right in front of her father and the guard. Then he tapped her nose. “Come on, let’s go to my place.”
Once at his apartment, he escorted her to his bedroom, not the spare, and put fresh linens on the bed.
“If I’m sleeping in your bed, where are you going to sleep?”
He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “Hard to protect you from afar. You’ll be too much temptation,” he said. “Instead of sleeping I’ll be thinking of you. I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep on the living room couch.” He gently squeezed her. “Wouldn’t you sleep better snuggled in my arms?”
Maybe the painkiller was making her dizzy, or maybe it was the leading statements that sent ripples of desire through her. She turned away, wearied by indecision. Moving in with a man was a new experience for her.
He regarded her quizzically for a moment.
“I’m serious. Don’t go out of the apartment and don’t open the curtains.”
“I feel like a prisoner.”
“Better that than the consequences.” He finished changing the sheet. Quilla followed him out of the bedroom.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked Irving who was drinking a bottle of water.
“He left for the store. Said he’ll be back later.”
“Try to stay out of trouble,” Denton warned. “And try to be a little easier to get along with, if that’s not too much to ask.”
Denton called the office on his way to work, telling them he’d be late. He didn’t want to leave Quilla, but he had to keep tabs on Tom.
He asked Jake to pick up breakfast and stop by the apartment to check on Quilla. The traffic was still thick, but moving steadily. When Denton arrived at the office, Tom’s father-in-law was there, announcing his daughter was to begin working part-time.
“Under other circumstances, I would have her work up from the bottom. But she worked for many years in the office and has kept tabs on it ever since. She knows the business almost as well as I do.”
Denton stole a glance at Tom. He was livid even though he tried to conceal it. Denton disapproved of the changes, too, but only because any change could spook Tom. Why the hell hadn’t George spoken to him about it?
George finished the meeting and was on his way out the door.
“George, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I’m in a hurry.”
“This won’t take long,” Denton said.
George had told the agency he wouldn’t reveal its purpose to the rest of the family. Wendy would be another person Denton would have to work around for information.
“Bringing her aboard now isn’t a good idea,” Denton said.
“She’s been chomping at the bit for months now. I couldn’t give her a good reason to wait any longer.”
“You at least should have warned me. Tom might change the way he runs his smuggling operation with her in here. We’ve worked too long to have an upset now.”
George snorted. “He’s a pompous ass. He’s not going to change a thing. I told you people from the beginning I wasn’t going to change the way I do business. You still have access to everything. That’s the best I can do.” He used the electronic opener to unlock the door to his Cadillac. “By the way, how is the investigation progressing? Anything yet?”
Denton shook his head. “Not yet. He’s covering the bases. I don’t know when or how.”
“It just galls me that he’s using the business my family built up from nothing to sell equipment to our enemies. The quicker you get the son of a bitch in jail, the better. Just don’t let my daughter get caught up in it.”
“We’ll do our best. It would have been easier if she wasn’t here.”
“Not a thing we can do about that.” He jerked open the door. “She’s here and that’s that.”
The older man slid into his seat and left. Denton marched back inside and got another shocker.
Tom was traveling to the Arizona office that day. As soon as he could, he made a call to Jake and told him. They had to review Tom’s schedule. Someone would follow him to Arizona, and they needed someone else there when he arrived, for surveillance. Good thing they had someone working in the Arizona office, Denton thought.
Tom cut a look at Wendy and went into his office without saying a word to her.
“Welcome aboard,” Frank Talbot said. “Guess you’ll be working with me. I’ll see that an office is set up for you sometime in January. Your father wants you to work with me for the time being.”
“Great.”
“Do you know the days you’ll be working?”
“Probably every morning.”
“Then we’ll start right away.”
“Give me a minute, will you? I’ll meet you in your office.”
Tom would be leaving soon, so Wendy went into his office and shut the door.
“Where were you this morning? You left the house at six, but you didn’t come here.”
“None of your damn business.”
“Don’t talk to me that way.”
“I run this company. You
go over my head to your daddy and get yourself a position. I’ll talk to you any damn way I want to.” He dropped his briefcase on his desk and opened it, tossing files inside.
“I thought I’d surprise you. We barely spend any time together. I thought you’d like seeing more of me.”
“No, you didn’t. You knew I would never have let you work here, so you went behind my back.”
“You don’t have a legitimate reason for keeping me away.”
“So you run to Daddy, as usual. If you wanted to do things the right way, you would have discussed it with me, whether I approved or not.”
“It’s only part-time, Tom. I won’t be here all day. After a while some of the work I can do at home, anyway. Daddy has always kept a handle on this business. He’d never turn it over completely—to anyone.”
“Don’t I know it. He’s been on my ass ever since I took over. I’ve given my life to this company.”
“And you have been handsomely rewarded,” Wendy snapped.
He snapped the briefcase closed, grabbed up his coat, and donned it.
“Tom, let’s talk . . .”
“I’m off to the airport.”
Wendy looked off into space, then back at him. “Is there another woman?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. You’ve always been insecure.”
“I’m not insecure. You tried your best to make me that way. You’re always digging at my self-esteem by belittling everything I do and treating me like I don’t have sense enough to make decisions.”
“I guess you made your own decision this morning, didn’t you?”
“Where were you this morning, Tom? You said you were coming straight to the office. You weren’t here and you hadn’t been here when I arrived at eight.”
“I don’t have to account to you about every move I make,” he snapped.
“I’m your wife.”
“Well, act like it.” He slammed out of the office, leaving Wendy looking after him. And he didn’t give a damn.
He wanted her to quit and go back home, but she wouldn’t. She had every right to work in the company her family created and built from nothing. She was born a Macdougal.
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