Dark Valentine

by Jennifer Fulton

  “That’s unlikely,” Jules said. “He followed us to Laughlin.”

  “He did? How do you know?”

  “Because I saw him. Remember when we stopped for gas in Needles? He was parked on the other side of the road.”

  Jules had almost had a heart attack when she recognized the gray-blue Chevy Trailblazer from earlier in the day. While she was filling the Mercedes, she’d paid close attention to the driver. Male, tall, light hair, droopy shoulders. She could not identify him with any certainty, but what were the odds of the same Trailblazer showing up twice in one day exactly where they happened to be? She had taken down the tag number and an accurate description of the make and model.

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” Rhianna said.

  “I thought you wanted to go through with this.”

  “I did…I do.” Rhianna dropped down onto the sofa, too far away for a hug. There was misery in her eyes. “What if everything goes wrong? Situations like this can get out of hand. We’re not experts.”

  “Calm down,” Jules said. “As soon as we know he’s on the property, I’ll put in a call to that detective I told you about.”

  Rhianna stood up again, clearly agitated. Her right hand wrapped itself tightly around her waist. “I’m going to close the blinds. What if he sees you in here and shoots you?”

  “He’s not going to risk it,” Jules said. Without good light he can’t be absolutely sure who he’s shooting. That’s why I still borrowed the wig in the end.”

  Rhianna looked up at Jules’s head and humor soothed her puckered brow. “Blond is so not your color.” Her gaze became slightly more intent. “But I could still go there.”

  Jules held out her arms. “Turn those lights down a little and come here.”

  “Oh, no. This is a stakeout. We can’t get distracted.”

  Jules laughed. “We’re not doing the staking out. He is.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Rhianna peeped out a narrow gap in the blinds. “We’re playing chicken with him. Waiting for him to make his move.”

  “He’s not going to do anything until two a.m.,” Jules said. “He’ll want to catch us sleeping. That gives you and me four hours to find new and interesting ways to keep ourselves awake.”

  “Are you seriously suggesting we make love?”

  Jules wasn’t, but her mildly flirtatious overtures were having the desired effect. Rhianna’s shoulders were no longer rigid, and she was moving away from her paranoid vigil at the window.

  “We could make out,” Jules suggested. She was not in the mood, and she needed to keep her guard up, but they had a long night ahead of them and Rhianna’s jitters were infectious. She patted her lap. “Just first base.”

  Rhianna smiled with endearing shyness. “I never thought you’d be here. In my room.” She sidled over and positioned her butt daintily before settling. “I mean, I thought about it a lot. After Palm Springs.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  Rhianna tucked herself in a little closer. Her head came to rest on Jules’s shoulder. “I used to imagine you were coming home from work and I was getting ready for you, and I had to hurry because when you got in the door you couldn’t wait. I would put on a sundress and no panties. Then I would hear you and—”

  “I’d walk in and have to fuck you immediately,” Jules said huskily. “We don’t get to the bedroom because I back you up against the wall.”

  “You bite my throat hard and I’m so wet there’s no resistance. You slide into me and I hold you tight so I won’t fall.”

  “You wrap you legs around my waist.” Jules teased Rhianna’s lips with her own. “And you’re talking like a slut. ‘Fuck me. Come on. I know what you want.’ And it’s making me crazy. I want to come in you. My legs get weak.”

  “We slither down the wall, and we’re on the floor.” Rhianna found a nipple and squeezed it between thumb and finger. “I try to crawl away.”

  “But you don’t get far.” Jules felt her squirm. “I come after you and haul you back against me. I throw your dress up over your pretty ass, and because you tried to get away I spank you, just a little, just because I want to leave a print.”

  “And then you’re back inside me again, and this time you’re fucking me so hard I want to collapse. And I put my head down on my hands.”

  “God.” Jules fluttered inside.

  She kissed Rhianna deeply, stroking inside, letting her tongue announce her desires. Rhianna consumed her, sucking and softly biting. She bore down, working herself against Jules’s thigh. Weakly, Jules tried to arrest the urgent motions, knowing where they would lead and why that was a bad idea under the circumstances.

  Rhianna broke away, flushed and panting. Her eyes were dreamy. She slid off and turned. Clamping her hands down on Jules’s shoulders she kneeled astride her and lowered herself. Next to Jules’s ear, she whispered, “Do me.” She felt fearless. Greedy. Hot. She wanted to be naked.

  Jules’s eyes shone back at her like black diamonds in the semi-darkness. Her irises had almost disappeared, swallowed whole by pupils huge with desire. Rhianna loved that look. She wanted to drink from it every night. No one was going to steal that from her. A man had thought he could own her. She had news for him. No one could own her unless she gave herself.

  “I’m yours,” she said. “Take me, Jules.”

  *

  The palms of Werner’s hands were slick with sweat. Rage forced his eyes wide open, making him see what he did not want to believe, and accept what he had never suspected for a moment. He gritted his teeth and tried to shut out the sight of the two women in the dimly lit room. His blade scythed helplessly at the darkness. He needed to carve something, to open the flesh undulating before him and pare away the vile witch who had stolen his Rhianna. But he could see only one person in the moving bodies. In his blurred vision, two had floated into one.

  He wiped his free hand across his eyes and concentrated his thoughts. He had come prepared, after seeing the rangy cowboy with the gun slung under his arm and the old dog trailing after him. Werner wasn’t sure which room these two feeble guards had chosen as their headquarters. He should take care of them first, he reasoned, but his legs refused to carry him away from Rhianna’s window.

  They were separated only by a quarter inch of glass. Nothing to a man with the right tools for the job. Werner crouched and opened the leather bag at his feet. He holstered the Reaper at the rear of his belt and took out his .9mm. Maybe he should blow them both away. Let them know how it felt.

  The moon cast drifting shadows across the shuttered house. He stood tall and his senses jangled with the sounds and smells of the night. Blood pumped in his ears like a giant hand thumping against the stone walls of a prison. The gun jerked up as if he had no control over his own reflexes. Adrenalin, he supposed. It heightened everything. The trigger felt firm and cold against the ball of his finger, and the grip welded to his palm like part of his anatomy. In his other hand, the crowbar felt light. He swung it back. His dark-adapted gaze zeroed in again on the impossible, and he smashed the image away.

  Like two insects caught in a blast of hot wind, the women fell back, their mating dance abandoned.

  Werner aimed his gun at Rhianna’s chest. “Whore. Traitor.” The words welled from the deep red darkness within and rolled like thunder around them. “Move and she dies,” he told the shivering woman next to her.

  He had known she was bad from the start. The gun wavered in front of him, as he seized control over his tensing muscles. What to do. A lesser man would surrender to this insult and lash out in anger, depriving both these fallen women of their lives, and depriving himself of what could be redeemed and savored.

  “I offered you a gift,” Werner said. “But you were weak. Now, look at yourself. Corrupted by this.” He shifted his aim to the lawyer.

  “Don’t.” A feeble whisper. Rhianna was begging. He knew that whisper well, the nervous cry of a woman paralyzed by his strength.

  “You want me t
o spare her?” he asked disdainfully.

  “Yes. Please, Werner. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  The lawyer touched Rhianna on the shoulder.

  Werner shoved the gun closer. “Take your hands off her.”

  Something brushed past the back of his legs and he spun around. The gun went off in the air and he jerked back, almost dropping it in surprise.

  “Put it down.” The lanky cowboy stood in the shadows a few feet away. He cocked his rifle. “This is private property.”

  Behind Werner a second voice commanded, “You heard him. Drop it.”

  Werner felt a hard muzzle between his shoulder blades. He craned his head slightly, trying to see Rhianna. “You can still come with me.”

  “I’m counting to three,” the lawyer said. “Then it’s all over and we’ll drop you down a mining shaft and no one will ever know you were here. Put your weapon down. One. Two…”

  Werner released his grip on the gun and only then did he see what had startled him. That useless dog. Bitter gall rushed up from his gut, and he swung a vicious kick hard into its ribs. The dog released a howl of pain and all around Werner movement erupted. Seizing his opportunity he ran.

  *

  Rhianna plunged after him, groping for the handgun he’d dropped. Her fingers closed around the grip.

  “No!” Jules cried.

  But Rhianna’s legs were propelling her through the courtyard and past the gazebo, driven by a barrage of pulses from an overloaded brain. She was screaming, “Don’t you fucking kick my dog. Asshole! Pig!”

  She fired the gun wildly at a form she saw ahead of her. The recoil altered her pace, making her run sideways for a moment. She clutched her shoulder. She could hear the drum of feet behind her.

  “He’s getting away!” she shrieked.

  “Go back!” Jules yelled from behind her. “Rhianna, stop!”

  He passed the pool. She gave chase, panting and gasping. He was gaining ground. Rhianna sprinted. She knew this yard and he didn’t.

  A loud report shattered the night, coming from her left. Percy, she thought. He had doubled back and was trying to cut Brigham off.

  Fury drove her. She wanted to lay her hands on the man who had shattered her world. She wanted to pummel him and smash his teeth. He veered left and Rhianna was momentarily disoriented. She stumbled and picked herself up. As she found her stride again, she heard a creaking sound and knew exactly where he was. The barricade.

  She bellowed, “Werner. Stop!” and then the night was filled with screams and grunts, and by the time she made it to the edge of the cactus pit, Werner was lying inert, pierced by a thousand needles.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He’s doped out with morphine, but he’ll live.” Bonnie closed her cell phone. “Sounds like prickly pear can be rather toxic. If the spines are deeply embedded they can cause arthritis.”

  Rhianna managed a weary smile. “I guess he won’t be stalking anyone else in the near future.”

  “With all the long, shiny needles they’ll be pulling out of him for the next week,” Jules remarked grimly, “that toothpick will never look the same again.”

  No one spoke for a moment, then all three woman howled with laughter.

  “Poetic justice.” Rhianna mopped her eyes. She felt mildly hysterical. The events of the evening seemed unreal.

  Bonnie rose and smoothed her black chiffon cocktail dress over her hips. She had been at a charity ball when Lisette phoned to explain the situation. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?”

  “Leave now,” Rhianna urged, “before they decide to ask you any more questions. Percy’s still in there. I hope they’re not holding him responsible.”

  They’d been at the Mohave County Sheriff’s Office in Kingman for the past four hours. Bonnie had flown in by helicopter while Rhianna and Jules were giving their statements. She said this was one occasion when it helped to be a millionaire.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Jules volunteered.

  She and Bonnie regarded each other with interest. They’d been exchanging brief looks for the past half hour. Sizing each other up, Rhianna surmised. She had half-expected Bonnie to march in and give Jules the piece of her mind she’d mentioned previously. But as time went by and Jules raved earnestly about what a remarkable and gifted child Alice was, Bonnie appeared to be charmed.

  “Don’t drive back to the ranch tonight,” she advised both of them. “The road is too dangerous.”

  Rhianna yawned. “It’ll be daylight before we get out of here, anyway.”

  “The Hampton Inn’s a decent place to stay.” Bonnie dragged her spangled purse out from beneath the chair she’d been using. “It’s in the middle of nowhere, needless to say.”

  “I’m sorry about the convention.” Rhianna felt terrible that Bonnie had been dragged away from an important business event because her nanny was a kook-magnet.

  “Hell.” A full-bodied laugh spilled from Bonnie’s plum-tinted mouth. “If I never see another Elvis impersonator in this life, it’ll be too soon.” To Jules she said, “By the way, Lisette asked me to give you a message. You can keep the hair.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  When Bonnie looked bemused, Rhianna explained, “We borrowed one of Lisette’s wigs. Then, when the police got to the ranch, they found Hadrian slobbering all over it. They wanted it for evidence, so when we called Lisette—”

  “Sweetie.” Bonnie patted her hand and gave her a little farewell peck on the cheek. “It’s been a long night. You can tell me the whole story another time.”

  Jules grinned. Dropping a kiss of her own, this one on Rhianna’s mouth, she said, “I’ll be back in a minute. If they ask you to come into the interview room again, tell them you can’t speak without your attorney present.”

  As the pair strolled off along the bland corridor toward the exit, Rhianna heard Bonnie remark, “Now that we’ve met, I understand some things a whole lot better.”

  “I hope that’s a plus,” Jules replied carefully.

  Bonnie stopped walking. “You’re going to take her from us, aren’t you?”

  There was only the smallest pause. “I’m afraid so.”

  Rhianna hugged herself. Joy flowed through her veins.

  “You know something. That’s good news,” Bonnie declared. “No, it’s fantastic news.”

  She cast a big smile in Rhianna’s direction, and from the sparkle in her eyes, Rhianna could tell her eavesdropping could have been more discreet. Impulsively, she got to her feet and hurried over to join the women who had been her fellow travelers on the most frightening, illuminating, emotional journey of her life.

  “Why is that good news,” she asked.

  “Because I’ve told Lloyd this is the last straw. I’m going to be a full-time mom now. And it’s good news because I have a wonderful friend who will give me the perfect excuse to get the hell out of this place whenever I want.” She bundled Rhianna into a full-scale cuddle and said, “But wait. There’s more. It’s fantastic news because if anyone deserves to have the love of her life walk in the door when she least expects it, that woman is you.”

  Rhianna could feel her cheeks heating to lobster red as Bonnie sashayed away. “The love of my life?” she murmured.

  Jules slipped an arm around her waist and said, “I like the sound of that.”

  *

  At some point in the afternoon, Rhianna had rolled onto her back, and she now slept with the abandon of a child, arms flung away from her body, one foot dangling over the side of the bed. The fickle light of dusk gave contour to the sheet that swathed her, revealing the limber form beneath. With each breath she drew, the pale fabric floated over her breasts, then settled once more to resume its teasing contact with her nipples.

  Her mouth was moist and carelessly parted. Her bed-hair had formed a disorderly clump on one side of her head. Jules had waited a long time to be fascinated by a sleeping woman. She could not wrest her gaze from the tiny pulse at Rhianna’s te
mple, the silky sheen of her eyelashes, the faint flutter of her lids. She stared, unfettered by convention or self-consciousness. She felt weak. Breathless. Frayed at the edges. She couldn’t think of any other time in her life when she had been so conscious of another woman, and so at home.

  The knowledge shook her. How had she found her way here to this unfamiliar terrain? How long did it take to fall in love? When was it appropriate to announce the feeling? Jules’s feet carried her to the end of the bed and she idled there, prayerfully smitten. She recalled a similar moment—another day, another dusk—when she had stood transfixed in the presence of beauty. The priest had left her alone at the base of the pedestal, to offer thanks to the Virgin Mary for her grace and intercession. Jules alone had survived beneath the mountain of rubble. The reasons were a mystery she could only hope to solve by proving herself worthy of this divine blessing, and by following the Blessed Virgin’s selfless example.

  She stared up at the statue and saw a beguiling woman stifled in a marble shroud, the embodiment of womanhood held prisoner by men’s fears. Jules did not think the mother of God had spared her so that she could emulate this captivity. Her promise to herself that day took some time to bear fruit, and Jules could see that for a long while she felt unworthy—survivor guilt, various shrinks had determined over the years.

  Jules slid her hand beneath the sheet that veiled Rhianna. She could understand why a man like Werner Brigham would seek to place this woman on a pedestal, and build a shrine to her in his imagination. Like so many, he mistook his own needs for her purpose in life. He was completely blind to the person.

  Warm skin claimed her attention and Jules began a leisurely exploration of the body she was still getting to know. It occurred to her that if there was a reason she had won life in the cosmic lottery of doom and disaster, perhaps it was simply that she had reached out for it. And here, years later, was the real prize.