A Dangerous Dance

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Actually, she hadn't realized they were against it this year.

  “Is there any evidence out there that would connect you to this?”

  “Well, I had to sign an agreement with Vance or he wouldn't have done it. About the pardon. He didn't trust me!” He actually sounded aggrieved by that. And why am I surprised, she wondered.

  “And you have no idea where it is.”

  “If I did, I'd have it by now, wouldn't I?”

  “Well, we know where it isn't, or you'd already be in jail. Let's focus on what you do know about it.”

  Bubba Joe looked sulky again. “There's a timer.”

  “A timer?”

  “Yeah, he said if anything happens to his wife, some kind of timer will kick in that will release the agreement to the public.”

  “Why would he feel his wife was threatened?” Like she didn't know. Good plan, Bubba Joe. Hire a killer, and then threaten his wife with bodily harm.

  He shrugged. “He was a paranoid son of a bitch.”

  She rubbed her face. Dear heaven, this was worse than she'd thought. “Did he mention what this timer was set for?”

  “He said I'd know when it ran out.”

  Suzanne frowned. “So it could be days?”

  “It could be today.”

  “If it was today, we'd already know. Every day the cops aren't at the door is a day we can try to do something about it.” He looked away from her. “Why did you wait to tell me?”

  His face flushed red. “What can you do about it? His wife, his lawyer, they're both dead! There's nothing anyone can do about it!”

  “What if someone else is involved? Someone who knew about the timer and what would happen to you if Vance's wife died?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw slack, before a look of comprehension spread across his face. It wasn't a good look on him either. “But who else would know?”

  “Oh, I don't know. Maybe the person who told you about Vance in the first place? The only other person who knew you knew him?” She kept her tone neutral, but it wasn't easy when she wanted to shout, Duh!

  She could see him thinking back. He didn't live a lot in the past, so there was some effort involved.

  “Darius Smith? You think he's the one who did this?”

  He's the one her money was on.

  “I'll kill him!” Bubba Joe's color darkened dangerously.

  Hadn't he learned anything from the Wizard's death coming back to bite him on the ass? Oh, why did she even ask herself the question? Of course he hadn't.

  “That's certainly one course of action, but it might not be a good idea to kill someone while there's evidence of your involvement with Vance floating around out there,” she said, even as her thoughts spun with the implications of Darius's involvement. If he was behind it, he'd take some delicate handling, assuming Bubba Joe didn't go behind her back again and just have him whacked.

  No matter how she tried to spin it, this was bad if Darius was involved. He loved knowing things and this was a thing worth knowing. If he did have the power, he could halt or slow the timer or hold it over their heads for as long as he wanted. With it, he could force Bubba Joe to stand aside for his protege or even support him. Or worse.

  She closed her eyes, pulling up an image of Darius in her mind's eye. He didn't have any apparent weaknesses. Didn't seem to be that interested in women, though he was a sexy devil in an odd, ugly sort of way. She wouldn't have minded giving him a ride, particularly if she could get him to lose control. She loved icy men with hot centers and hot women with cold hearts. A girl did have to have her hobbies if she was going to live with someone like Bubba Joe Henry.

  “What are you smiling about?” Bubba said, suspiciously.

  “I was thinking how we could turn this on Darius,” she lied. His jealousy was both inconvenient and hypocritical. If he'd had any idea of her recreational coping techniques, if he thought she was getting it somewhere else, he'd be reasserting his marital rights in ways he knew she wouldn't like. “There has to be a way. There's always a way.”

  “I don't believe you.” She could hear the violence in his cold voice and feel his need to hurt.

  It took all her discipline not to stiffen or show any sign of alarm. And then she had to push beyond that and distract him. There was only one way to distract him now and that was to act like she wanted to jump his bones. He loved depriving her of himself. It made him feel powerful.

  She lifted her lashes. She rose and forced herself walk over to him and run the back of her hand along the side of his face.

  “You're so sexy like this, Bubba Joe.” She leaned in to him. “So strong. So powerful. It makes me crazy when you get like this.”

  That at least was the truth. Crazy sick to her stomach.

  He smiled as he grabbed her hand, squeezing it until tears filled her eyes. “I'd like to help you out, baby, really I would, but you know I have to go.”

  “Later?” She knew the script.

  He looked her up, then down, his cruel gaze dismissive of her female assets. “Sure. Later.”

  He stepped away from her. “I'll give you a few days to figure out this out, then I'm acting, Suzanne. I'm not waiting for Darius Smith to take me out.”

  He wanted to kill Smith, she realized. He was hungry for it. She kept her lashes down, her body submissive. This was when he was most dangerous. Her body curled in against the thought of what he could do when he felt this frustrated and scared and hungry for violence.

  “Sure, baby. You know I'll do my best.” She lifted her lashes then, willing them to look at him with longing. His gaze probed hers. It was almost as bad as having his fingers probing her with cruel insolence.

  Without warning, he slammed her into the wall, pressing against her with the full length of his body. He ground himself against her as he grabbed her chin and stabbed his tongue down her throat.

  She endured it as best she could. She knew this drill, too. She couldn't respond in any way, not in passion or revulsion. Either would set him off. She had to be passive so he could dominate. His hand stroked the side of her neck, and then tightened on her throat until the blood pounded in her head. He didn't say anything, just stared at her with a cold, almost dead gaze. She could feel him teeter on the edge of violence, and thought, he's going to kill me this time, but then he pulled back. His eyes told her it wasn't over yet.

  She had one last bit of business to play right. She made herself reach for him with a murmur of distress. He hit her with his open palm, knocking her to the ground.

  “Have some pride, Suzanne. You disgust me.”

  This was new, and she had to act on instinct. “I can't help it, Bubba Joe. I'm sorry.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hair, twisting it until she looked up at him.

  “Do you want me, baby?”

  She licked her lips. “You know I do.”

  “Well, I don't want you. You're old and dried up. You're only good for solving problems. So do what you're good at and I'll let you stay.” With his hand still twisted in her hair, he slammed her head against the wall twice.

  She stayed limp, curling in on herself, as his lust for violence sucked up all the available air around them both. It clogged her lungs and slowed her heart to a crawl. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to keep hitting and hitting until some, deep dark place inside himself was satisfied.

  “Are you going to do what I want?”

  “Yes, Bubba Joe.” She fought to stay conscious, to sound meek and calm.

  “Good.” He sounded disappointed.

  He wanted her to fight him. So he'd have an excuse to kill her and believe it was her fault. She didn't dare look at him. She didn't know this part.

  It seemed to take forever before his hold on her hair eased. Then she was free. She heard him walk across the room. He walked like he was powerful, content to know he'd dominated her.

  He's going to kill me. Maybe not today, but sometime. She'd known he hated her, but hadn't realized how muc
h. Would it have made a difference if she'd let her strength show? Or perhaps he sensed her inner rebellion and was reacting to it? Certainly his fear had ripped back the facade of his life, revealing the ugly, heartless core.

  He had, she acknowledged painfully, the soul of a serial killer. So far he'd used a third party to do his killing for him, but he was hungry to do it himself. She'd felt his longing too clearly to doubt it. Right now, he still wanted political power more, but just barely. She was alive because he hoped she could clean this up for him, like she always had. If she wanted to survive, it was time to cut Bubba Joe loose and save herself.

  If Darius were behind this, then he was her best bet. He had the power to take Bubba Joe down and protect her from his retribution. And if he wouldn't play, well, there was always Dorothy. She'd wanted to know who was behind the killing since it happened.

  * * * *

  “Dorothy?”

  Remy's voice seemed miles away. She had the vague recollection he was in danger and struggled against the hands holding her down.

  “I'm coming.” She tried to call, but the words came out a dry rasp of sound.

  “Lie still.” He sounded closer now and undeniably grim. “Your head will clear in a moment. And then you'll feel as crappy as I do.”

  Her lids felt like lead, but she managed to lift them. Remy knelt by her, his face angry and hard.

  “Titus?”

  “He's down, too, but all right.”

  She sagged back in relief, but then stiffened again. “The book!”

  “What book?”

  “I think I found something...” It wasn't pressing into her back anymore. She felt the ground around where she fell. “It's gone!”

  “I thought you said you hadn't found anything?” Titus sounded shaky, but also hurt.

  “I wasn't sure,” she said, avoiding his accusing gaze. “I didn't want to get our hopes up. No chance of that now.” She struggled to a sitting position, despite her unpleasantly spinning head. “How is this happening? Am I bugged or something?”

  Remy looked thoughtful. He gazed at Titus, whose body language turned defensive. “I suppose it's possible we're being tracked.”

  “I have some debugging equipment. We'll know soon.”

  “Until then, I suggest we suspend any further discussion,” Remy said.

  Dorothy nodded. Right now she could hardly think, let alone discuss anything. Remy and Titus helped her upright and after a painful period of spinning head, she was able to walk under her own steam. “I wish I hadn't eaten,” she muttered as Remy helped her into his car.

  Titus acted like he wanted to object, but Remy just ignored him. “We'll meet you back at Oz.”

  “Someone should warn Vonda,” Dorothy said, before he shut the door. She stared at Titus. He nodded and left. She gazed at Remy. “Are you sure your head's clear enough to drive?”

  He ignored her as he eased out into traffic. “Did you hear anything?”

  Dorothy shook her head. “Not until it was too late.”

  “Me either.” He stared ahead, a deep frown cutting moody lines into his face. “This guy is really starting to piss me off.” He braked suddenly. “Let's not wait for Titus and his magic equipment. I know someone here in New Orleans who can help us out. Okay?”

  Dorothy nodded. She hadn't looked forward to the drive to Oz, having to watch their words the whole way. And wondering if they were being tracked. But she was still puzzled about one thing. Why had the killer or his confederate only knocked them out? Every other contact had been lethal to the people involved. And maybe that was her answer. The higher the body count, the higher the risk of being caught.

  The good news, their efforts were putting pressure on their opposition. The bad news? So far the opposition was winning. That was going to change now, she vowed.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  NINE

  * * * *

  Darius watched Suzanne Henry approach his table. He rose to pull her chair out and then pushed it back in for her. As she sat down, she glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him an intimate smile that was both thanks and an invitation.

  He sat opposite her, studying her with mild curiosity. She wasn't bad looking, in a chilly bitch way. He'd fielded some signals from her in the past, but had managed to turn them aside without her realizing she'd been turned down. She probably thought he'd missed his cue. Now here she was, practically clanging like a railway signal. Today, he suspected, she wasn't going to allow him to miss anything.

  Normally, he'd have no compunction in squashing her and her expectations like a bug, but Dorothy's return and the memories she'd stirred up had left him unsettled. Unsatisfied. Suzanne was as different from Emma as two women could be, something he considered a positive at the moment. He needed an outlet for his libido, not a pale imitation of Emma. He'd heard that Suzanne liked to play on both sides of the aisle. It made her more interesting than the women who typically hit on him. He also had a feeling that the quickest way to find out why she'd sought him out now, was to give him what she wanted. He'd let lust off the leash a bit, and she'd get someone to talk to.

  She rested her hand on the table, leaning forward to give him some cleavage action. “It's was so kind of you to meet me, Darius.”

  He reached out and covered her hand with his, caressing the back softly, while he pretended to appreciate the offered view. It surprised him that he even remembered how to seduce, all the little steps that built a response. It surprised him even more when it worked. Suzanne was, apparently, a fast stepper. At least he wouldn't have to play the game too long. He was interested in relief, not a relationship.

  As they chatted their way through the preliminaries, he felt her bare foot push under the edge of his pants. She rubbed his leg in what she probably thought was a sexy circle. When she tired of this, she slid her foot up his leg into his crotch. He was so startled he didn't have time to control his reaction. He was only human.

  Her gaze was locked on his like a smart bomb on a target as she continued kneading him to attention. He reached under the table and captured her foot, rubbing it gently, but indifferently. “If you're not careful, we won't be able to find a more private place to talk.”

  Her lashes swept low, then back. “It would be easier to discuss my...problem...in a more private setting, but we'll need to be careful. You know how Bubba Joe is.”

  He stroked his finger along the bottom of her foot and her body jerked in response. If he wasn't careful, she'd be doing a When Harry Met Sally moment. He gave her foot one last stroke, before releasing it.

  She licked her lips, pouted them for him, and then reached into her purse and extracted a key card. She was careful about how she slid it toward him, making the moment both personal and private. He met her halfway. She gathered herself together and presumably put her shoe back on. She slithered out of her chair and stepped close to whisper in his ear.

  “Don't be long.”

  “It'll take me a few minutes to be able to walk,” he told her, genuinely amused.

  She laughed, looking surprised and pleased. Laughter suited her, softening the hard lines that her life with Bubba Joe had cut into her face.

  He watched her leave, weaving through the tables, confident and sexy. She was a dangerous woman, but she was about to become less so. He took out his cell phone and placed a call.

  “Yeah, I need you. At—” He turned the key over and read off the hotel and room. “—bring the camera.” He hung up, sipped some water while his body returned to normal, then stood up, tossing some money on the table to cover the meal he hadn't had. As he strolled out, he found he was enjoying the unusual lick of anticipation in his blood at what was coming. And for the opportunity she presented. He had a keen sense of when information was heading his way and it was telling him that Suzanne was big with news.

  * * * *

  Bozo Luc opened the letter his informant had handed him and quickly scanned the contents. So, it was as he had
suspected. Magus had indeed made sure that Dorothy was his blood, his DNA, before bringing her to Oz. He'd have done the same in his place, of course. What surprised him was the disappointment he felt. He had, he realized, liked the idea that his night of passion with Emma might have born fruit. To his surprise, he found he still missed Emma. He hadn't realized it until now. Infuriating, of course, but also an amazing woman and wasted on Magus. Dorothy had her mother's fire, but she also had enough of Magus in her to make her...annoying.

  It had been a mistake to drop her ten years ago. She'd found her feet and her father's self-possession. He'd been so sure she'd never come back to Louisiana or have any desire to reclaim his political legacy, let alone hand it over to someone like Remy Mistral.

  It would be easy enough to eliminate Mistral as an annoyance, but if Dorothy really cared about him, she'd be as dogged about pursuing his death as she was being about her father. She needed to be reeducated. It didn't have to be a final solution, unless she wasn't open to reason.

  He looked at the results again, before he stuck them in his wall safe. They'd make a nice souvenir. And keep him grounded, if he were tempted to let his little game get too real. His informant had already altered the results at the source, to make it look as if he, Bozo, were her father. It would be almost impossible for her to represent Magus if the word got out and that would, by default, leave Mistral blowing hot air instead of cold. He doubted much time would pass before Mistral sheared off. He still had his sad little career on radio to go back to. It was clear he was using Dorothy to access Magus's political legacy and would have no need for her when it was gone. She'd need friends then and this time he wouldn't make a mistake. He'd be there for her. After all, he was her father now.

  All that remained was for her to find out her new paternity. It was a pity he'd have to play loving father with her. She was, as his son would say, hot. And she was lonely. He'd sensed it in her when they met. He specialized in comforting the lonely and the hot.

  Maybe he should have made her father Darius or Bozo. They'd both assumed they were the only ones she came to in her efforts to pay back Magus for his inattention. It had all been so entertaining at the time. Emma sleeping with everyone in sight. Magus oblivious until the end. Emma had confided in him, because, well, people did. They couldn't seem to help themselves. They always thought he had their best interests at heart. Strange. None of them ever stopped to ask themselves why on earth he would? Even Darius, who thrived on secrets, couldn't keep all of his own. He'd needed someone to talk to in the end. Had he gotten over his obsession with Emma or had he transferred it to Dorothy? It would have been funny to make him a father, but he couldn't have her turning to anyone else for help or answers to past puzzles. One thing his source had been clear about, she was deeply curious about the past and her parents, with precious few answers available to her. He could change that for her. He was good at fiction.