Intimate Betrayal

by Donna Hill

  “The what?” she frowned.

  He pointed toward her leg which was encased in plaster and suspended from what looked to Lynnette like a trapeze.

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “I’ve got to get out of here, doc. I have work to do. I’m on assignment. I…”

  “Ms. Campbell,” he interjected, “there’s no possibility of you going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “You can’t keep me here!”

  Dr. Moore had had his share of troublesome patients over the years. He prided himself on his patience, and even temper. And he knew he’d have to use every bit of both with Ms. Lynnette Campbell.

  He pursed his full lips and expelled a long breath. “Ms. Campbell,” he began in his favorite doctor-patient voice, “if you can find a way to unhook your leg from traction, write out the prescription for the painkillers that you’ll need, get yourself dressed and sign yourself out of this facility—” he paused and smiled broadly, displaying a deep dimple in his right cheek “—then you’re free to leave.”

  Lynnette tried to sit up, changed her mind, and rolled her eyes instead, which immediately set off the drill team in her head. She briefly shut her eyes until the pain subsided. “Well,” she huffed with great reluctance, “if I have no other choice.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him, giving Adam Moore the full benefit of her dazzling smile. “I guess you should call me Lynnette.”

  Adam chuckled deep in his chest. “I’ll have the nurse bring your medication.” He turned to leave, then stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “Lynnette.”

  She smiled as he neared the door. Then the enormity of her circumstances fully hit her. “Hey, doc, did they at least get the idiot that hit me?” she called out.

  “Sorry,” Adam admitted softly. “Hit-and-run.”

  Chapter 24

  Reese’s relative silence was blatantly evident during the first leg of the drive toward Maxwell’s house in San Diego, he noted. There was no longer a reason to delay their arrival since he’d told her as much as he knew. Everything except what was in the note. The words came back to him now, rippling through him like a stone skimming over water. He pushed them aside.

  “What’s on your mind, Reese?” he asked. “It’s not like you not to talk.”

  She took a long breath and turned her gaze away from him. “I know you said you wanted me to find the answers no matter what the costs.” She turned to face his profile. “I’m not so much afraid of what I’ll discover, but what will happen to us when I do.”

  He nodded in understanding, having asked himself the same question more times than he cared to admit. “I wish I had the answers. But I don’t. All I can say is that we’ll have to find a way to deal with it. If it’s what we want.”

  Reese pressed her lips together in thought. “I know from experience how I’ve been viewed from the perspective of the person I’ve interviewed when I uncover elements of their lives that they’d prefer to keep under wraps.”

  “And?”

  “Things invariably change. I become the bad guy. The one who was out to get them.”

  “So you think I’ll feel the same way?”

  Slowly she nodded. “You already came into this with preconceived notions. You thought the worst of me before we even met. And somehow I feel that because of the attraction between us you’ve put those feelings aside. But they’re still there, just beneath the surface.” Her soft amber eyes searched his face, silently praying that he would emphatically refute her statement.

  “I’ve tried to put that out of my mind. I’ve tried to allow myself to be objective and I admit, getting involved with you provides no objectivity. But—” he paused, gauging his words “—you’re right. Much of my ambivalence still remains. The difference is that I’m learning to trust again. And that trust began with you. I trust you to do the right thing—for everyone.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that,” she said.

  “And neither can I.”

  They pulled into the driveway of Maxwell’s home just as Larry stepped out of the front door. He walked up to the parked car and leaned down to meet Maxwell at eye level. Maxwell lowered the window. His gaze held the question.

  Larry nodded. His dark brown eyes somber. “The house was loaded. No less than one in every room. Your office as well.”

  “Damn!” Maxwell slapped his hand against the steering wheel. The horn blared causing Reese to jump. “How could they have gotten in? The house is alarmed and no one but staff can get beyond reception and into my office.”

  “At this point, there’s nothing we can do about it. But from here on out, we take extra precautions. Understood?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When are you two headed out?”

  “I’m waiting on a call from Carmen. It’ll either be tomorrow or the day after at the latest.”

  “Good. The sooner the better. I’ll be making my arrangements as soon as I leave here. I’ll be in Tokyo as soon as I can. In the meantime, we need a contingency plan in place.”

  “I’m way ahead of you. Chris is already in Tokyo. He’s in a tournament. I plan to contact him tonight.”

  Larry smiled for the first time. “I can’t think of anyone better.” He patted Maxwell solidly on the shoulder. “Everything’s going to work out,” he assured. “You know, Max, we can put a quick end to this by just backing off from this interview. It would be safer for everyone.”

  “No way in hell,” Reese spouted definitively. She’d sat by in silence listening to these two men decide on what was best without any input from her. That had to stop. “No one is going to scare me away from a story. There’s obviously something that they want to keep hidden. Which gives me all the more reason to find out what it is.”

  Larry looked at her and saw the same determination in her eyes that had been in her father’s the day he faced down Frank Murphy and told him he was going to the Senate SubCommittee with his findings—knowing full well the risks to himself and his career. His decision had ultimately sparked a series of events that still reverberated fifteen years later. His decision had cost him his life. Would Reese’s decision cost her life as well? He didn’t want to envision the possibility and blinked back the memories. “I’ll be in touch.” He turned, walked toward his car and drove away.

  Reese pressed her hands to her face. “They’re really serious, aren’t they?” she asked from between her fingers.

  “Yeah,” Maxwell expelled. “They’re serious.” He popped the lock on the door. “Come on, let’s go inside and get settled.”

  Maxwell slid his arm around Reese’s waist as they walked toward the house, pulling her close to his side. He bent his head, speaking low in her ear, “Everything is going to be fine. I swear to you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Reese leaned into his embrace, struggling to ward off the pain in her head which had begun as a dull throb back at Maxwell’s office. She thought she could fight it off, but she couldn’t. Briefly she shut her eyes and missed a step.

  Maxwell tightened his hold, steadying her. “Are you all right?”

  She turned her amber gaze upward to meet his and he instantly knew she wasn’t. His dark eyes narrowed in concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He opened the door, swept her up his arms and proceeded up the stairs to the bedroom.

  By the time Maxwell placed Reese on the bed she was moaning softly, squeezing her eyes shut to fight the pain.

  He crossed the room in swift strides and turned the wand on the vertical blinds, blocking out the light.

  Maxwell came to the bed and placed her head in the cushion of his lap. “Try to relax, baby,” he cooed, placing his thumbs at her temples. He began the slow rotation, the gentle pressure, the soothing words that, had in the past, brought her relief. He worked with her for fifteen minutes.

  Reese braced her body, anticipating the moment when freedom from pain would flow freely through her body. But it didn’t come. Unbidden, tears of pain squeezed from her shut eyes. “I need m-my medicine,”
she moaned. “It’s not working, Max. I can’t s-stand it anymore.”

  “Where?”

  “In the top drawer of t-the dresser,” she mumbled.

  Maxwell brought her the medicine and a glass of water. He lifted her head while she took the medication, then slowly eased her head back on the pillow. He knew from experience that the potent medication would soon begin to do its job. At all costs, Maxwell strove to stay away from any chemical substances which altered the way the body naturally worked. It was why he studied and mastered the art of Tai chi. He knew all too well the long-term effects of chemical dependency, having seen so many promising brothers and sisters fall by the wayside.

  He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb her. Already, her breathing had slowed, the tight knit across her forehead was beginning to ease. Her eyes weren’t squeezed shut, but merely closed. In this state between asleep and awake she would be more receptive to letting her mind flow freely. Perhaps she’d be able to give some clue as to what precipitated this attack.

  “Reese,” he called softly.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you have any idea what brought on the pain?”

  “No,” she replied in a thready whisper. “Not really. It started at the office.”

  “Can you remember when, sweetheart—what was happening?”

  “I—I think it started when Larry passed us in the hallway.”

  Maxwell let that piece of information settle. What reason could there be for Larry to act as a catalyst for her headache? What was his connection to Reese? What hidden part of her memory did he occupy? It was becoming apparent that the reasons for her headaches stemmed from people who entered her life that somehow resurrected memories of her forgotten past.

  He placed a light kiss on her brow. “Try to get some rest,” he said in a gentle whisper. “By the time you wake up, you’ll be feeling better and we can talk some more over dinner.”

  Maxwell knew he had at least two hours before Reese would awaken. He headed downstairs and used the phone in the den.

  After several false starts he was finally able to connect to Chris’s room.

  “Hey, man,” Chris greeted. “You just caught me. I was on my way out. Don’t tell me you’re already in town.”

  “No. Not yet. But I’ll be there sooner than scheduled.”

  Chris was instantly alert to the tension in Maxwell’s voice. “What’s up and what can I do to help?”

  James made the return trip home after his meeting with Frank Murphy. He gripped the wheel to keep his hands from shaking.

  Frank told him in no uncertain terms that if Maxwell continued to cooperate with Reese Delaware, he’d do whatever was necessary to stop him and her. James had one last chance to convince his son to back off. Frank also intimated that there’d been two warnings sent. James didn’t want there to be a third.

  He had to get in touch with Maxwell and convince him to give up this story.

  No sooner had Maxwell hung up from speaking with Chris than his phone rang. Anticipating the caller to be Carmen, he was more than surprised to hear his father’s voice.

  “More problems?” he greeted, the disdain plain apparent in his voice. “Larry’s already been here, if that’s why you’re calling.”

  James took a steadying breath. “You’ve got to back off from this interview, Max. Now.”

  “The time for you to tell me what to do is long gone, Dad.” His nostrils flared in anger. His voice dropped to a threatening low. “Unlike you, I’m my own man. The only orders I follow are the ones that I set up for myself. I don’t know what your role in all of this is, but I won’t be a party to helping you keep it a secret, directly or indirectly.”

  As James listened to his son’s angry dismissal of him, he knew how right he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made an independent decision, and when he did, it resulted in the birth of his son and completely changed the very fabric of his marriage and nearly destroyed his wife. He knew he couldn’t change the past. He only hoped that he could somehow make up for what he’d done by trying everything in his power to protect his son. A son whom he’d never forged a relationship with. A son who could not forgive him for that.

  “There’s more than just me to consider. I know you don’t have much regard for our relationship. I know that I’m the last person who can tell you what to do. I’m not asking you to take my concerns into consideration.” He paused, taking a short breath. “If you aren’t concerned with your own safety, at least consider Reese’s.”

  “Reese has made her decision, Dad. All I can do is stand by her.”

  James let out a long sigh, laden with sadness. “Just be careful, son.”

  Maxwell’s heart pinched at the word son. For a brief instant his stand faltered. “I will be.”

  Chapter 25

  The house was quiet. Claudia had apparently gone out, James concluded. Wearily he made his way down the short foyer to his den. He’d truly believed that he’d been given an opportunity to, somehow, be the father of Maxwell that he had not been for thirty-three years: protector—counselor—friend.

  For several long moments, he sat in his favorite chair recalling the caustic, detached tone of his son. And, yes, he deserved it. He deserved the animosity, the isolation. James sighed with regret, pressing his fists against his temples.

  Maxwell made it very clear that he was his own man, and faced with the unknown, he was still capable of taking care of himself. Even as the object of all of Max’s ambivalence, James felt the surge of pride. His son was a better man than he’d ever hoped to be. Perhaps by some macabre twist of fate, his life as a slave to others’ directives had in some way been responsible for Maxwell being just the opposite.

  James pushed himself up from his chair and slowly stood. There was no doubt that years in the service of his country had left its mark indelibly ingrained in him. But whether his son wanted to accept or believe it, his love for him was far greater than his obligation to his country. This one time he could not follow orders. Even at the risk of his career and possibly his own life, he would protect his son. Although he felt he would never be able to confess his role to Max, he would do everything in his power to see that he had the tools necessary to uncover the truth. It was time.

  James reached for the phone and was just about to dial when he heard Claudia’s soft voice in deep conversation. Surprised that she’d returned without him hearing her, he started to hang up until he caught the voice of the person on the other end. For the briefest instant, his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. Larry Templeton.

  Victoria sat unmoving in the plush gray armchair in her bedroom. Her slender hands folded in her lap. A thin shaft of light peeked through the drawn pale pink drapes. For the past few hours she’d contemplated what she was about to do. She no longer had anything to lose, and she’d be damned if she let anyone else gain any more satisfaction in their life.

  Her day had been filled with lies and deceit. She’d listened to the most outlandish story she’d ever heard. And then less than two hours later, her uncle’s story was refuted. She was still at odds with what she’d been told. Both Celeste and Frank had reasons for misleading her.

  She stared sightlessly across the room, her mind a jumble of tormented thoughts, her spirit raw and beaten. She sighed heavily. It didn’t matter anymore, she decided. Today would be her day of retribution. Everyone who’d hurt her would pay. And then, finally, she would feel relief from the constant emptiness that had carved out a hole in her spirit. Soon it would be filled with revenge.

  The pain was more intense now. Celeste winced as it sliced through her body. This was her penance. Her payment for all the hurt she’d caused. The lies she’d told. But she’d rather bear the pain than reveal what she’d done. To do so would shred the fabric of her existence. She squeezed her eyes shut and took long, shaky breaths until the agony subsided.

  In measured steps, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. With each footfall, the vibrations of
the truth shot through her limbs, reverberating outward to her limbs.

  With great effort, she made it across the mauve-colored carpet to her bed. She could have told Victoria the truth, she realized, laying her pain-racked body across the floral quilt. But to do so would have been to admit truths that were too painful. The truth of her own beginnings, the truth about her feelings for her sister Sharlene. The truth about her involvement with Hamilton and the truth about Victoria.

  The truth would have imploded the very foundation upon which she’d built her life. The lie that she’d constructed so that she could live. It was the one entity that allowed her to go on day by day.

  Celeste closed her eyes against the waning sunshine that slid across the room. The sheer chiffon curtains fanned soundlessly in and out of the open window. A sudden pang of remembrance made her heart race. This day was so similar to the afternoon that Hamilton was killed, and all of her hopes for a life with him died in a rubble of twisted metal. All that was left was Reese. Reese who was almost identical to her mother, Sharlene. The one who’d come into her perfect world and destroyed it.

  A single hot tear trickled down her cheek. How different would things have been if Sharlene had never been born? She, Celeste, would have been the only one, the one whom her parents loved and cherished. After all, she was the one who’d lost everything and everyone. She’d put all of her childlike faith and hope into her new family, and they’d promised to love her.

  But when Sharlene came along, everything changed. They forgot her. They forgot their promise. Sharlene became the little princess.

  Celeste tried to remember the moment the resentment began.

  If she thought about it hard enough, not only could she conjure up crystal-clear imagery, she could reincarnate the pull in her chest and the sinking sensation in her stomach.