The Payback Man

by Carolyn McSparren

  Her breasts felt swollen, hot, and she knew that she was ready for him, but he held off, although when she caressed him, she could tell he was more than ready, too.

  He sank to his knees in front of her. The moment his tongue touched her, she arched her back and grasped the shower rod to keep from falling. Her body burst from ice to fire in what seemed only an instant.

  Then he stood up and braced her against the tile of the shower as he rolled on a condom. He entered her slowly this time. Their bodies flowed together and mingled as sweetly as the warm water that cascaded over them.

  The mingling that began softly grew into a torrent, a cataract that beat against her senses until at last she fell over the edge and tumbled headlong into ecstasy.

  Shaken, she clung to him and buried her face against his shoulder. She wasn’t certain she could stand without his arms to hold her up. Nothing had prepared her for the way he felt inside her. It was glorious.

  It was terrifying.

  She’d abandoned a part of herself she’d always protected, ever since Jerry. She belonged to Steve now, heart and soul, and if he destroyed them both, there wasn’t a thing she could do to prevent it.

  Afterward, they dressed in silence and avoided each other’s eyes. Eleanor cleaned up the coffee, while Steve straightened the shower room.

  Each time they made love, the barriers between them seemed to fall, only to be rebuilt stronger and taller.

  Outside, the sleet had stopped, but the black night was still impenetrable. Eleanor drove Steve to the compound, spoke to the CO in charge, saw that he was properly checked in and on his way to his dormitory. She waved cheerfully to the CO as she drove away.

  By the time she reached the highway she was shaking, not with cold and not with fatigue, but with fear for Steve. He’d never actually told her he planned to escape, but if he were to really use that gun of Bill Chumley’s, he’d have to try to disappear. No, he hadn’t told her, but he didn’t have to. She’d hoped to hold him back with bonds of love, or at the very least of passion.

  He’d turned the tables. She was the one in thrall. She had to break free before he destroyed her. It would be easy to let another disaster, another tragic ending to another love drag her once more into despair.

  If he were still intent on murder, she couldn’t save him. She could only try to save herself.

  SHE WAS HIS NEMESIS, his fate for good or for ill.

  He lay on his cot and listened to the men around him in their restless sleep. He was afraid that if he fell asleep, he would groan or call out as he had before. He couldn’t afford to talk in his sleep. He was already walking a very thin edge.

  But now that he was warm and not only relaxed but drained, he knew he couldn’t stay awake long, no matter how much he worried about his future.

  There seemed only the tiniest glimmer of hope that there would be a way out that didn’t lead to more pain and tragedy. If Steve avenged his wife as he’d planned, he would be no better than Neil. If he let Neil get away scot-free, he was less than a man.

  Neither of those Steve Chadwicks would be worthy of Eleanor. After tonight’s lovemaking he was afraid that if he asked her to run away with him, she would.

  So he must not ask her.

  He could only pin his hopes for a happy outcome—his very slim hopes—on Leslie Vickers, the man who’d allowed him to be convicted in the first place, and Charlie Schockley, the man who’d arrested him.

  He could only stand and watch. Overwhelmed by the same old feelings of helplessness he’d endured these years in prison, forced to live by someone else’s rules, embroiled in a foul culture he barely survived in.

  He had to face the fact that he’d fallen in love with Eleanor. All his good intentions to stay away from her disintegrated the moment she walked into a room.

  At first it was her compassion that had attracted him. A different kind of person would have simply done her job and walked away each night without a thought for the people she left behind. But even the first day, Eleanor had treated them all with dignity. She truly wanted to make a difference in their lives. How many people would have seen what a good man Big Little was? Or even bothered to look below the surface of a tattooed career criminal like Gil?

  And her tenacity. Even when she was certain he was a killer, she’d fought to understand him. She never treated him like a monster. Now that she believed he was innocent, she was fighting even harder.

  Then he loved the way she came into his arms, gave herself to him, wanted him. She had truly become his better self. How in hell could he be worthy of her love and trust when he must betray her?

  Steve supposed everybody thought they were in love half a dozen times before the real thing. Until you experienced the real thing, you couldn’t recognize the counterfeit. He had loved Chelsea, but even that hadn’t had this intensity. His feelings for Eleanor were so different, so overwhelming, that her happiness meant more to him than life. If the only way to preserve her happiness was to thrust her away from him, then that was what he’d have to do.

  BY UNSPOKEN CONSENT, Eleanor and Steve tried to avoid each other for the next week. Steve was certain that everyone on the team and at the clinic knew there was something wrong between them, but nobody said anything.

  Except Big.

  He walked into Mark Scott’s office at the clinic one afternoon with Daisy at his heel. “Steve, how come you’re mad at Dr. Eleanor? I thought you liked her.”

  “I’m not mad, Big. And I do like her.”

  “She’s not happy. You’re not, either. You have a fight?”

  “No. Not a fight. I can’t explain, Big. It’s something we have to work out.”

  Big looked at him in silence, then reached down and scratched Daisy’s remaining ear. “It’s not right when Dr. Eleanor’s not happy.”

  “I know.”

  “Y’all make up.”

  “If we can.”

  Big left. He wasn’t satisfied.

  Steve dropped his head into his hands. He felt as if he was being torn apart from inside. If something didn’t happen soon, he’d explode.

  TWO WEEKS BEFORE Thanksgiving, Sweet Daddy sought Steve out in the mess hall after supper. “Outside, man. We gotta talk.”

  Steve followed reluctantly.

  “When you going, man?” Sweet Daddy whispered. He was shivering. The night was raw.

  “Going where?”

  “Don’t pull that crap on me. I know you’re going. I can read the signs. Hell, we all can. You got a plan?”

  “If I were going, it’s no business of yours.”

  “I’m going wid’ you.”

  Steve laughed.

  “Nobody laughs at Sweet Daddy. I about had enough of this place. I want out, and I ain’t coming back. Man like you, smart, he going, he got a plan, am I right? No three and three, not for Sweet Daddy.”

  Three miles away and three hours before they capture you, Steve remembered hearing. He said, “And if I don’t take you?”

  “Then you don’t get no three and three—you get nothing and nothing and lose your good time.”

  “You’d snitch?”

  “I ain’t going, ain’t nobody going. I want to eat my own turkey with my own ladies on Thanksgiving day. She helping you, am I right?”

  “Wrong. And I’m not going anywhere. You tell the COs that I’m planning to walk off, and you will regret it.”

  “Don’t nobody threaten Sweet Daddy.”

  “Sure they do. All the time. You snitch on me, and I’ll make certain that various groups know about it. You won’t last a week.”

  “I come with you, man, or you don’t see your woman.”

  Before Steve could stop him, he scuttled back into the dormitory.

  Steve leaned against the side of the building, suddenly hot despite the chill. That wasn’t an idle threat. Steve couldn’t take Sweet Daddy along, but neither could he safely leave him behind. He couldn’t snitch on him to Gil or any of the others without revealing his own plans. Th
e same for Eleanor.

  He’d have to try to move up the timetable. Tomorrow he’d call his man on the outside. The man picking him up outside the prison would bring a weapon for him to use. If he was lucky, the Neil problem would be solved in an hour.

  If Eleanor discovered he’d disappeared from the grounds, she’d be frantic. He’d have to trust she’d try to cover for him. Not fair to her, but he didn’t dare take her into his confidence.

  And Sweet Daddy? He’d think of something.

  TONIGHT WAS FINALLY THE NIGHT. Steve thought he’d be nervous, but instead, he felt empty.

  At long last Mark Scott had returned from his trip for Buchanan Enterprises. Steve remembered meeting him before the trial, although they’d only been nodding acquaintances.

  Mark seemed pleased at the work Steve had done on organizing the clinic’s inventory and finances. He suggested that there might be a place for Steve at Buchanan when he was paroled. Steve was flattered but noncommittal. He couldn’t think any further than his impending confrontation with Neil.

  He’d formed a plan to avoid Sweet Daddy. Unfortunately it involved Lard Ass Newman, but that couldn’t be helped. In the end he only had to call in a couple of favors from men he’d helped at Big Mountain before they moved down to the farm.

  Newman was now one of the COs on mess duty, which meant he could lounge around while the men ate, then stuff himself with leftovers while the kitchen crew cleaned up.

  That night at supper, Sweet Daddy discovered he was sitting surrounded by large genial cons whom he knew only slightly. He couldn’t change seats without insulting them. He’d pay for an insult.

  Steve sat at the very back of the mess hall nearest the door and watched Elroy craning his scrawny neck trying to locate him.

  As everyone was finishing and putting their trays on the conveyor belts to the kitchen, Big Nose Noonan on Sweet Daddy’s left took offense at a remark made by Peterman Blake on the other side of Sweet Daddy. The two men argued over Sweet Daddy’s head, while the men across the table egged them on.

  As Steve figured, Newman waded in to restore order. In the ensuing ruckus, he slipped away into the night and out of the compound.

  He kept to the bushes and pine trees that lined the prison road all the way down to the highway. He moved fast, even though he doubted anyone would notice he was gone for some time. This wasn’t like the normal prison where a count could be called at any moment. The men were checked in at bedtime and in the morning only. The rest of the day they were all over the farm on their respective teams. Steve had at least half an hour before Selma checked on him—more like an hour, if he was lucky.

  The plain dark sedan waited for him in a narrow turnoff under the trees at the highway’s edge. Steve vaulted the four-foot perimeter fence and slipped into the front seat.

  The driver sped off and turned on his lights only when he was well under way. He didn’t speak. Neither did Steve.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  STEVE LOOKED OUT the car window as they passed the house he’d shared with Chelsea. There were lights on both upstairs and down, and a child’s bicycle lay on its side by the front door. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He prayed the people in the house were happy there.

  If only he and Chelsea had had children. They’d both wanted them badly, but no matter how hard they tried, she couldn’t carry a pregnancy more than three months.

  Apparently it was genetic, because her sister, Posey, hadn’t been able to conceive, either. Steve thanked God Neil didn’t have children. Children would have made what he planned to do even harder.

  Steve’s driver dropped him in the shadows at the back corner of Neil’s yard. Steve had expected Neil to build a high solid perimeter fence, but apparently he hadn’t. It was still possible to walk from Neil’s yard through the trees to the back of what had been Steve’s house.

  Neil’s house was dark except for a single light in his study. Steve moved closer.

  Neil sat at his fine Napoleonic campaign desk under a Tiffany lamp that Steve knew was no modern copy. A fire blazed in the ornate stone fireplace. The heavy raw-silk drapes over the French windows were wide-open, so Steve’s view into the room was unobstructed.

  He slid his hand under the drooping pot of late mums beside the set of French doors. The key was there as it had always been.

  He knew from Schockley that Neil never set the alarm system until he went up to bed, and that Posey usually took a sleeping pill and went to bed early. Neil generally worked alone until midnight or later. That much hadn’t changed. Neil had always been a night owl.

  So much for being awake to provide her husband with an alibi, Schockley had said.

  Steve slid the key into the French door and, bracing the door handle with his other hand, turned it silently.

  Before he stepped into the room, he checked the automatic his driver had provided one last time to make certain there was a full clip and one in the chamber. He eased the slide back into position and stepped into the room.

  Neil surged to his feet, gaping at the intruder. Then he shaded his eyes with his hands. “Steve? My God, it is you.”

  Neil’s face went gray, but he recovered quickly. “You out on parole already? Man, am I glad to see you.” He stuck out his hand.

  “Knock it off, Neil, and take your other hand off your desk drawer. This isn’t a pipe in my hand.”

  “I can see that. A gun? Hey, come on, Steve, this is Neil, remember, old friend?”

  “Old enemy, you mean. The reason I’m in prison.”

  “Steve, that’s not true and you know it. Why, I tried to convince that jury—”

  “You damned me beautifully with every word you said. Just the way you framed me when you killed Chelsea.”

  Neil spread his hands. “Killed Chelsea? My God, Steve, how can you even think that? I was fond of Chelsea.”

  “I thought you were fond of me.”

  “I was. I am. You’re the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had.”

  “No doubt Cain said the same thing about Abel just before he bashed his head in.”

  “You know I didn’t kill Chelsea. I was home in bed with Posey.”

  “I’ve had three years to work out how you did it. I may be wrong on a couple of points, but overall, I think I know.”

  “Fantasy.” Obviously playing for time, Neil started to sit down behind his desk.

  “Don’t sit there. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

  “Come on, Steve, if this is going to be a long tale, the least you can do is let me sit down. How about like old friends on either side of the fire?”

  Steve said nothing.

  Neil put his hands palms up in front of his chest and walked carefully around the desk without taking his eyes off Steve. He sat in one of the two armchairs in front of the fire, eased back with a sigh and crossed his legs at the ankles as though perfectly relaxed.

  Steve didn’t buy his act.

  “I’ll stand, thank you. Put your hands on the arms of the chair and keep them there.”

  “I can’t believe you’re treating me like this, Steve, after all we’ve been through.”

  “Good one, Neil. What have you been through, precisely? You bought my half of the company for pennies on the dollar because you knew I was in a bind and needed the money for my defense. When I was convicted and couldn’t benefit from Chelsea’s estate, Posey inherited her money, as well as her life insurance, and now you’ve sold out to one of the conglomerates for one hell of a lot more money. You’ll be a gentleman of leisure in sunny Arizona. The only thing you had to do to get there was to kill my wife and frame me for her murder.”

  “I tell you, I didn’t kill Chelsea.” Neil glanced at the fire. “I couldn’t kill her. I was in love with her.”

  Steve’s gun hand wavered momentarily in surprise, but he recovered quickly.

  “That’s right, Steve. I was in love with her from the minute I met her. I dated her first, remember? But when she laid eyes on you I kn
ew I’d lost her.”

  “You said you’d broken up with her. You didn’t mind if I dated her. Hell, you were best man at our wedding.”

  Neil shrugged. “So I lied. You’re easy to lie to, you know that?”

  “I do now.”

  “I never stopped loving her. Posey was a poor substitute, but at least it kept me near Chelsea. I could see her, be close to her.”

  “And the fact that she had inherited the bulk of her father’s money didn’t mean a thing?”

  “Sure it did. She was rich in her own right while Posey only had that trust fund. But I’d have been in love with her even if she’d been some penniless little coed from the Delta. God, she was beautiful.”

  “If you’re going to tell me you had an affair, I won’t believe you.”

  Neil laughed but without mirth. “I wish. God knows I tried. I knew you two were having problems, that the bloom was off the rose. She had her life, you had yours—hell, I saw you every day, heard all your grandiose schemes for making the world a better place to live. I gave Chelsea a shoulder to cry on. I was as much her confidante as I was yours. But then I tried to take it further….”

  He looked away to stare into the fire. “She blew up at me. Said I was betraying Posey and you. From that point we never saw each other except when the four of us got together. It tore me apart.”

  “That’s why you killed her? Because she turned you down? And you hated me so much you framed me?”

  “I never hated you. Envied you, yes. Envied you your good looks and your easy manners. Envied that you could play polo and tennis and golf well and never care what the score was. I’d have given my right arm to do the things you did.”

  “The business wouldn’t have succeeded without you, Neil. I could do the engineering, but I can’t sell snow to a nomad in the desert. You made the business, not me.”

  “You think I don’t know that? But you were always the one who got the kudos. Wonderful idea, Steve, great innovation, Steve. And they were great.”