A Murderous Game

by Paris Patricia

  Abby sniffed. "I like your new nail polish. Are you telling me he's a womanizer?"

  "Thanks, it's called cha-cha cherry. And all I'm saying is he makes for good press. He's wealthy, he's handsome, and he's private as hell, a paparazzi wet dream."

  "It doesn't matter." Abby fingered the edge of the tablecloth and found a loose thread. "I have no interest in Gage Faraday's love life, fact or fiction."

  "Umm hmm," Rachael murmured, taking a sip of her drink.

  "Don't give me that umm hmm stuff," Abby said firmly. "I know how your mind works, so just delete whatever matchmaking schemes you've got spinning around up there."

  "Why? You've got to start dating again sometime, or have you decided to become a nun? I hate to disappoint you, but I think you have to be Catholic."

  "You forget," Abby said, as she picked at the thread, "I'm still married."

  "Huh!" Rachael snorted. "Considering Dickhead's on his fourth or fifth affair this year, I'd say you had a green light ages ago."

  "I'm not ready," Abby said softly. "And if what you read is true, I can do without another man who thinks of women as disposables."

  "All I'm saying is keep an open mind. You might discover whatever made you fall for him once is still there. The boy may not have noticed you, honey, but I'm betting the man will."

  "I wouldn't care. I just don't want to lose the account. And I'm serious, Rach, anything I felt for Gage died years ago." Abby wrapped the loose thread around her finger.

  "Believe that if you want, but remember, I know you better than anyone. And if you don't stop pulling the hem out of the tablecloth the restaurant's going to add a replacement charge to our bill."

  Abby batted the cloth from her lap. "Look, subject closed. I don't want to talk about Gage Faraday anymore."

  Rachael leaned back and gave Abby an assessing look. "Okay, subject closed. We can always talk about something fun, like ways to kill the cheating bastard you married."

  Abby glanced up and grinned. "I came up with the perfect way to murder Dick this morning, much more creative than just poisoning him."

  Their server chose that moment to reappear with the check. "Whenever you're ready," he said, sliding a furtive glance toward Abby before walking away.

  "Did you see James's expression? I hope he didn't think we were serious." Abby frowned. "Maybe we shouldn't joke about murdering Dick in public, even if it is just a game."

  "Right, because criminals typically hatch their felonious deeds in crowded restaurants where they're sure to be overheard." Rachael rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "If Dick turns up dead with a thong stuffed in his mouth, then we'll start worrying."

  "It wasn't a thong," Abby corrected, reaching into her purse for her wallet. "It was a leopard bikini." She slapped two twenties on the table. She didn't want to admit just how deeply the news about Gage had affected her. She was sure it was only because he'd been her first love. First times always seemed so much more than they really were, more poignant, more painful.

  "I'll send you the station's video of the press conference if you want. You can use my password to access it." Rachael handed Abby a fifty dollar bill. "I haven't seen it, but it might help you prepare for your meeting."

  "Thanks, that'd be great." Abby would take what she could get, but she didn't know if anything could fully prepare her for facing Gage again.

  ~~~

  Abby sat down in one of the two club chairs that anchored the old wooden trunk she'd picked up at an antique store on

  Pine Street. She set the pasta salad she'd made for dinner on the trunk and picked up her laptop. Balancing it on her knees, she clicked on the link to access the video of Gage's press conference that Rachael had streamed from the station's network, and keyed in the password. In a few days she'd come face to face with the man again. She'd been so young the summer she'd met him, and so in love. But the unattainable object of her desire had returned her feelings only in her imagination and on the pages of her diary.

  She'd been the architect of her own shame by recording her passionate fantasies in her little red book. But she never would have imagined her father would stoop so low as to cut the strap on her diary and read her most private musings.

  Abby took a bite of pasta, barely tasting it, as she thought back to that horrible night.

  She had convinced Rachael to go to the end of summer fireworks on the boardwalk with her. Gage had been with Kelly Samuels, an older girl who, for reasons Abby never understood, always made fun of Abby and her friends.

  She shook her head, amazed she could still remember how Kelly had taunted them about being allowed out without a sitter. Unfortunately, Kelly had only been the opening act. Abby's father had been the real horror show, storming onto the beach, waving her diary and accusing Gage of statutory rape. She'd had to admit in front of everyone that she'd made everything up. It was the only way she could stop her father's accusations and threats of prosecution.

  To this day a part of her had never forgiven him. He'd thrown the diary at her feet and stormed off, but not before ordering her home like a child, and warning he'd better never find her hanging out with street trash like that Faraday boy again.

  Before Abby could get it, Kelly Samuels had snatched up the diary and read a passage Abby had penned of a steamy kiss from Gage. Her mortification complete, she'd fled like a coward, unable to bear Kelly's laughing taunts or Gage's angry reaction.

  Abby closed her eyes a moment before clicking the video play option.

  The mayor opened the news conference, highlighting some of the changes taking place on the riverfront. Abby resisted the urge to scan forward. Finally the mayor introduced Gage.

  The screen shifted to a small group near a makeshift stage that had been set up in front of the Marabella, a grand old ship housing one of Philadelphia's landmark restaurants. She and Dick had held their engagement party there.

  A tall man in a dark blue suit broke away from the group and mounted the platform. After shaking the mayor's hand, he turned to face the crowd and smiled.

  Abby caught the corner of her lip between her teeth and drew in a slow, shaky breath. It was Gage. Older, more filled out, and more devastatingly handsome than ever.

  An old longing stabbed her—warm, sweet, impossible. She sank further into the overstuffed chair. She'd convinced herself she wouldn't feel anything when she saw him again—nothing like this.

  The day after the diary disaster came back to her as if it were only yesterday. She'd hidden in the shadows of the rose arbor across the street from his uncle's. She'd just wanted to see Gage one last time…maybe explain. Too much a coward, she'd remained in hiding, consumed by yearning as he loaded his duffle bag into the trunk of his old blue Mustang, hugged his aunt goodbye, and drove out of Abby's life forever, until careening back into it this week without any warning.

  "We estimate a need for roughly three hundred contract employees over the next two years," Gage was saying. "Once the development is complete, ongoing staffing needs to operate the various restaurants and shops, as well as a high-rise luxury hotel, are upward of twenty-four hundred new jobs."

  There was a round of applause. Gage slipped his hands into his pockets, assuming a casual stance while he waited for the clapping to stop.

  "In addition to providing jobs, River Place One has been designed as a living community. That means an infusion of new residents for the city, which in turn means increased revenue for local businesses."

  "You paint a pretty picture, but how does it help Philadelphia when your contracts will go to out-of-state labor? And why should we believe some Chicago based company cares about the long-term impact on our city?"

  Abby jerked to attention when she heard the all too familiar voice. Locating the face in the crowd, she stared in disbelief. What the hell was Dick doing at the press conference?

  "Those are legitimate concerns," Gage answered, looking unfazed by the taunts, "but Mayor Phillips can verify GFI signed an agreement to award ninety percent of t
he work to laborers from the Delaware Valley. And although GFI is headquartered in Chicago, I was born and raised in South Philly. I still have family living there. So not only do I understand the city and some of its needs, but since I've always considered Philly home, I share your commitment to the area. In fact, GFI plans to maintain ownership of River Place One after construction and manage the property through a subsidiary leasing company."

  He turned away from Dick's challenging expression. "We've invested heavily in this development. Its profitability will have a direct impact on GFI's revenue, and most likely my future bonuses." Gage paused and smiled broadly to the crowd. "So I can assure you I care about its long-term success."

  Several people laughed. Gage nodded to a short, balding man for another question, effectively cutting Dick off. To her dismay, Abby could still see him on screen, and his narrowed stare sent a chill down her spine. What was he up to?

  As the press conference continued, Gage seemed to win over the majority of people in attendance with his charm and wit. Memories flooded her as she watched him play to the crowd. His hair was still black as night, only shorter. She recalled how her knees went weak every time she walked into his uncle's taffy shop and he'd be standing behind the counter. She remembered the way her heart raced and seemed to trip over its own beats whenever he smiled, just like now.

  Someone must have made a funny comment and Gage laughed. The camera zoomed in for a close-up. His eyes hadn't changed, still the deep smoky grey rimmed by black she'd always thought were so mysterious and romantic.

  "We have time for one more question," the mayor said, signaling the press conference was almost over.

  Abby watched with apprehension as Dick elbowed his way to stand in front of the platform. Gage pointed to a woman reporter who had been waiving her notepad in the air. Before she could speak up Dick called out, "What about allegations GFI gave kickbacks on contracts last year?"

  Abby gasped in horror. "What the hell are you doing?" she shouted to the monitor and jerked her gaze back to Gage to see his reaction. She would have been furious, but to her amazement he didn't look the slightest bit ruffled.

  She replayed the scene, listening to Dick's words but keeping her eyes trained on Gage. She scanned back again. He'd flinched. It was an almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders. He recovered so fast Abby doubted anyone without the advantage of instant replay would have caught it, especially since the crowd's focus had shifted to Dick in that moment.

  Gage shook his head and chuckled. "Sorry, I can't give you the juicy headline you're looking for. I can tell you GFI has never given kickbacks. I believe it's against the law," he joked, and then addressed the assemblage. "My associate just signaled me we're out of time. Thank you all for coming. I look forward to talking to you again as we move forward." As he turned from the microphone he waved, gave another heart-stopping smile, and headed toward the side of the makeshift stage.

  "What about the probe by the State's Attorney General's Office? Do you deny they're investigating you for illegal business practices?" Abby's mouth dropped as Dick continued spouting allegations.

  Gage kept walking, as if he hadn't heard the question. When he stepped off the platform, a tall blond man and an attractive woman in a black pantsuit flanked his sides. He leaned toward the man's ear. The guy glanced toward Dick and nodded.

  A minute later Mayor Phillips joined them and patted Gage on the back. He turned, spoke to the mayor, and then the two of them strolled away, out of view of the camera which faded to a scene of a lone jogger running along Penn's Landing.

  Nothing good could come of Dick's presence there. He'd never been able to accept defeat graciously, and Abby had a horrible premonition he'd try to stir up more trouble. Maybe she should warn Gage.

  Yeah, right! Wouldn't that play out great! She'd just call out of the blue. Hi Gage, you probably don't remember me. Abby Sheridan, the gangly kid with the spiky hair? You don't remember? You know—the stalker. So listen, about the guy who kept harassing you at the press conference. That was my husband.

  She dropped her head into her hands and groaned. Maybe she was blowing things out of proportion. But how likely would Gage be to trust positioning his company to the spouse of someone who had accused him of corporate fraud?

  It wouldn't matter that they were separated. She already had one strike against her with her past. If Gage knew Dick was her husband, it would kill any chance she had of getting GFI's account. She'd be wise to keep that damaging tidbit a secret.

  Gage leaned against the corner bar in his office nursing a glass of Balvenie. He looked out the large bank of windows that formed the back wall and framed incredible views. In the distance, a tug boat chugged up the Delaware River as the lights of the city began to flicker on and evening descended in shades of pink and gray.

  He turned at the sound of a knock and hiked a brow when he saw Grace, his long-time secretary, standing in the doorway.

  "I thought you left already."

  "I wanted to finish those proposals you gave me this afternoon, but I'm leaving now. Need anything before I go?"

  "No. Go home before Sam wonders if we're having an affair."

  Grace laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. "Sam knows he doesn't have to worry about that, even with a charmer like you."

  Gage pushed away from the bar and walked over to sit on the edge of his desk. "Thirty years with the same woman." He blew out a low whistle. "I'm not sure whether to be jealous or send Sam a sympathy card."

  Grace put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.

  He grinned. "You've known me how long, and you're still not sure when I'm teasing? Go." He waved her away. "And tell the lucky bastard I said hello."

  "I will." Partway out the door she turned back. "Why don't you call it a night, too? You look tired, and you've still got two weeks worth of work scheduled into the rest of this one."

  "Yeah." He reached up and pushed a hand through his hair, knowing she was right and feeling it to his bones.

  He never could have gotten this office up and running without her. Not and stay on top of everything until Brett could be brought up from Boca Raton to handle things in Chicago during the interim. Once things settled down he'd see about sending Grace and Sam on an all expense paid vacation. Maybe a week in Hawaii, she always said she wanted to go before one of them died or they were too old to enjoy it.

  He could use some time off himself. How could he slow down now though? With Riv One, as they referred to the Philadelphia project internally, about to take off, and rumors of fraud surfacing out of nowhere. The demands on his time were getting worse, not better.

  He swirled his glass to mix in the ice that had begun to melt. If only he knew who was behind the rumors. Time would vindicate him, he knew. But one thing he didn't have was excess time.

  Damn. Every time he thought about that reporter spouting off about illegalities at the press conference it pissed him off. How the hell had the bastard known about the inquiry when Legal had only notified him they might have a problem two weeks ago?

  Positioning Riv One would be more important than ever now. He intended it to be a showcase to secure other waterfront deals. If successful, future earnings potential could be in the billions. Hopefully, the firm he'd be meeting with Monday wouldn't be another disappointment.

  He'd been scenting trouble for days. It made him uncomfortable, probably because his gut rarely steered him wrong. Picking up the phone, he dialed Matt Silver, his Chief of Security, and got a recording.

  "Matt, it's Gage. We need to cut out a chunk of time to review site security next week. Give Grace a call and get on my calendar. I know your people are swamped, but have one of them put together a report on that guy from the press conference. You can fill me in when we get together. If he's going to be a problem, I want to know before he can cause any real damage."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Abby tapped the right toe of her three inch high brown suede heels against the highly polished lobby floo
r as she watched the numbers above the elevator bank. She glanced at her watch. She was an hour and a half late. They were meeting with Gage Faraday in fifteen minutes.

  "Come on, come on," she chanted under her breath. Why did her electricity have to go out last night of all nights?

  "Damn," she cursed when both descending elevators stopped again. When one finally arrived, she nodded and smiled to the people filing off who nodded and smiled at her, and tried not to let her impatience show.

  Several minutes later when the elevator doors opened to her floor, she poked her head out and glanced around. Seeing no one but Madeline, Abby made a dash through the lobby toward the offices beyond.

  "Where have you been?" Madeline asked in an urgent whisper as Abby half ran, half walked past the woman's desk. "Norwell's been looking for you."

  "Wonderful," Abby mumbled and rolled her eyes. "Is Faraday here yet?"

  "No, but he's expected any minute."

  Not wanting to run into Gage before she could collect herself, Abby nodded then hurried into her office and closed the door. She shucked out off her suit jacket and draped it over the desk chair. As an afterthought, she smelled her armpits. Satisfied, she pulled the mirror out of her lower desk drawer and checked her makeup.

  Holding the mirror out behind her, she looked over her shoulder to make sure nothing was sticking to the back of her skirt. She had bought the dark chocolate linen suit that weekend and not because of Gage. She'd just liked it.

  She always tried to look her best for work. It wasn't for him. She rummaged through her purse for a lipstick. Norwell expected them to present a good image. It was a job requirement.

  Her intercom buzzed. Abby caught her lip between her teeth and pressed the button. "Yes?"

  "Norwell's ready for you," Madeline said.

  Abby wiped her palms against the sides of her skirt. She took her file on GFI and the four hard copies of her PowerPoint presentation out of her briefcase. She reached for her jacket, drew a shaky breath, and slipped it back on. She was as ready as she could be. Picking up her laptop, she hurried out of her office and almost collided with Harold Billings.