A Murderous Game

by Paris Patricia

  Rachael snorted with disgust. "What a scum sucker." She tucked her purse under the table. "I hope you got back at him."

  "When I left the office, boiling oil was seeping into every disgusting cavity of his body."

  Rachael laughed. "I'm glad I'm on your side."

  While they waited for their server to bring menus, Rachael told Abby about a public interest piece she'd been working on. Tonight would be the third time they'd gone out since Saturday, when Rachael had taken Abby to dinner to celebrate her divorce. Abby knew Rachael's motives for trying to keep her busy and loved her all the more for them.

  After Saturday's dinner, they'd gone back to Abby's. Rachael had sat Abby down and said, Spill it. We're supposed to be celebrating, and you look about as happy as a basset hound. Over a bottle of champagne, Abby had confided what she now referred to as the misadventures of Abby and Gage.

  "Let's do a Cape May getaway weekend." Rachael sat back and crossed her legs. "It'd be fun. We can stay at Owen's bed and breakfast. He's been bugging me to come for a visit."

  "And the change of scenery would probably be good for me, right?"

  "Well it would." Rachael picked up her water and glanced around the restaurant. "The shore won't be too crowded yet. We could—" Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply before swinging her gaze back to Abby.

  Abby started to look over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

  "No! Keep looking at me." Rachael sounded urgent. "No matter what I say, just keep looking at me."

  Abby nodded. Rachael was alarming her. Like maybe a faceless, sickle carrying man in a black hood and robe stood right behind Abby's back.

  "Do not turn around." Rachael reached for a roll and began buttering it. "Now, drink some water, or get a roll, just look casual."

  Abby took a drink. She set her glass back down and tried to appear unaffected, even though she had no idea why. "You're making me nervous here. Now tell me why the hell I'm trying to look casual before I freak out and make a dash for the door."

  "No! Don't get up. Okay, honey, smile back at me," Rachael said through gritted teeth. "And don't react, but Gage Faraday is at the bar."

  Abby stiffened. She couldn't look because that announcement had frozen her in place. Had he seen her? Would he come over and insult her? Oh God, did he think she was stalking him?

  "Breathe," Rachael said. "You look like you're going to pass out."

  "I'm breathing." She inhaled. "Okay, now I'm done. Let's go."

  "We can't. He's boring holes into the back of your head, and if you get up and leave, he's going to know it's because you know he's here."

  "And he'd be right." Abby gripped the seat of her chair, ready to push up.

  "Is that what you want? Are you going to run every time your paths cross? What are you going to do when he comes to the firm for a meeting? Go hide out in the ladies' room?"

  Abby's shoulders drooped. "You're right. Knee-jerk reaction, I've been known to have them in situations where there's a high risk I'll be humiliated in front of lots of people."

  "He won't come over here. He's too civilized." Rachael picked up the basket of rolls and held it out to Abby. "Take one."

  "If there's such a thing as Machiavellian civility," Abby said, taking a roll. "The man is heartless." Abby hadn't wanted to believe that last week, but now she knew better.

  Rachael lowered her lashes, but Abby could tell her friend still had her gaze aimed at the bar. "My, my, he sure does seem to be having a hard time keeping his eyes off of you."

  Abby pulled her roll in two. "He's probably wondering if it's safe to be in the same room with me."

  "Don't move. And don't look. He's getting up." Rachael picked up her water and laughed rather loudly. "And then the cameraman tripped over one of the extension cords and—" She put her glass back down. "He's leaving."

  Abby jerked around just in time to see a tall man with dark hair duck out the door. Her heart rate plunged and for a very long moment, felt painfully hollow.

  "Are you all right, kid?" Rachael reached across the table and took her hand.

  "I'm fine." Abby closed her eyes a moment then forced a smile. He couldn't hurt her; she wouldn't let him. "Want to share an order of potato skins?"

  Rachael picked up her menu. "Sure, honey, if you want."

  ~~~

  Chocolate jock straps would be a dream account compared to the two that Harold Billings dropped onto Abby's desk Thursday morning. She blamed her close encounter with Gage the prior evening for another sleepless night, and it required very little to push her over the edge of the precipice she'd been teetering on for days. Having Billings hoist all his worst accounts off on her did the trick.

  Abby leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'm not taking these on," she said levelly. "You've passed off six accounts to me in the last week, all undesirables. You'll have to find someone else to dump your garbage on, Harold. I refuse to accept any more of your crap accounts."

  "With Crowley out on medical leave and Fisher's last day next Friday, you don't have a choice," he replied blandly. "You know I've been directed to devote myself to Faraday."

  Abby bristled. "In case you don't remember, I was in the meeting with you and Mr. Norwell when we talked about reassigning some of your work. Some, Harold. You were told to make yourself available to Gage Faraday as necessary."

  "Norwell left it up to me to decide what to farm out," he said snidely, "and I doubt he'd be pleased to learn you don't want to be a team player."

  "I've always been a team player," she bit out, her temper brewing, "but you're taking advantage of the situation, and I'm not playing this time."

  Billings narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I think you'll play exactly the way I say we'll play."

  Abby slid the account folders back across her desk toward him, determined to stand her ground. "Give them to Erickson or Leary," she said, and turned to face her computer.

  "Rule number one," Billings jeered. "I don't like your superior attitude. You seem to have forgotten I'm your senior here, so from now on you'll show me more respect."

  "How can I forget when you remind me of it almost daily? But you're not my boss Harold. If you were, someone would have handed over an orange jumpsuit and locked me in a cell long ago. I hate to even contemplate the possibility. Orange has never been a good color for me."

  Billings picked up the folders. "You're going to regret this, Abigail. You haven't learned your place. If I'd been Dick, I would have enjoyed showing you exactly where that was and teaching you a few necessary lessons."

  "Get out." Abby swiveled to face him. "I'm sick of your threats and insinuations. I'm sick of you using Faraday's name to leverage your authority and dump on everyone else in the office. I'm sick of—" She drew in a breath at the realization she'd let him goad her into lashing out again.

  "Just get out." She closed her eyes, struggling for calm.

  "We'll see what Norwell has to say about this," he said, his lip curling contemptuously.

  "See what I have to say about what?"

  Abby looked beyond Billings to where Norwell stood filling her doorway. He strode into her office and eyed them both expectantly. Abby's mood deteriorated further.

  "Mr. Norwell," Billings said, turning. "I was just explaining to Abigail I needed her to pick up these two accounts in order to free up more of my time for the River One account."

  Norwell glanced at Abby. "We've already discussed this. What do you need to know from me?"

  "Just a clarification, sir," Billings replied. "Faraday is demanding I pick up the pace. He doesn't care how, he wants it done. I tried to tell Abigail I had no choice but to clear a few more accounts from my portfolio if we're going to keep the man happy, which you said we needed to do at all costs."

  "What's the problem, Carpenter?" Norwell said impatiently. "You knew Harold would be turning some of his clients over to you."

  "Yes, and I've already taken on six of his more problematic accounts. I reported those in Tuesday's update
meeting."

  "None of those are large accounts," Billings said, directing the comment to her. "And these two are small enough that someone at your level should be able to manage with minimum effort."

  "Which accounts are we talking about?" Norwell asked.

  "Ridgley Paper and Torch-Lender distributors," Billings answered, "both of which we've managed for over three years and have plans in place."

  "And both of which have consistently suffered losses since we've represented them, losses that they blame on our marketing strategy," Abby added.

  "What are you implying?" Billings snapped.

  Abby sighed. "I'm not implying anything, Harold." She looked at Norwell. "All I'm saying, sir, is Ridgley and Torch-Lender may be small accounts on our books, but trying to placate them takes almost as much time as dealing with much larger accounts. Considering the rest of my account load, I suggested these two be given to someone else."

  "Sir," Billings countered, "I've considered everyone else. You told me to use my discretion, and I've tried to do that. I can always try to reason with Faraday and tell him we've got other clients we have to consider."

  "No," Norwell said violently. "That man won't tolerate excuses. If we tell him we can't do exactly what he wants, he might yank the contract out from us the same way he did with Fitch and Lerner."

  Abby recognized a trump card when she saw it, but she couldn't think of a way to outmaneuver Billings. They both knew Norwell wouldn't risk losing Gage's business. The account was too big. He certainly wouldn't care that Abby was already taking work home every night in order to stay on top of things.

  "Unfortunately, I'd have to agree," Billings said. "And after meeting with him a couple of times, I think I'm probably in the best position to guess how he'd react."

  Abby had experienced Gage's anger firsthand, but a part of her refused to believe he was the unreasonable autocrat everyone made him out to be. She knew he could be cold, and hard, and lethal, but she'd also had glimpses of another side of him. It was that Gage, the one who'd smiled at her with warmth and humor in his eyes that haunted her. It was that Gage, who filled her with a sense of loss and longing.

  Billings shrugged and turned up his hands. "I'll do whatever you think is best," he said looking at Norwell.

  Abby didn't have to look at her boss. She already knew the outcome.

  Ten minutes later Billings fought desperately against the ropes that bound his arms and legs to the four stakes positioned strategically around a massive hill of fire ants. She usually didn't torture her victims before she killed them, but she'd decided to make an exception this time.

  ~~~

  Friday afternoon Gage spent two hours on a conference call negotiating terms with the leasing company GFI wanted to acquire. Burns had finally decided to deal. He tapped his pen against the tablet where he'd been taking notes.

  He had one more meeting, and then he was going to try to get out of there by six. That'd be a rare event. Tomorrow morning he'd be flying to Miami then driving to Key West for the weekend to spend two days of R & R at his condo on the beach.

  He stretched his arms behind his back. His neck and shoulders protested the long hours he'd spent bent over his desk. Maybe he'd be able to catch up on some sleep this weekend. Ever since that ridiculous scene with Abby last week he'd been so out of sorts he hadn't been resting well.

  He still couldn't believe the woman and her husband had done a personal investigation on him. More amazing was that they had uncovered so much about his past. It had taken some thought, but he'd finally remembered Kelly Samuels. They'd gone out a couple of times one summer when he'd worked at his uncle's taffy shop on the Jersey shore. If they knew about his old car and a girl as insignificant in his life as Kelly, they were really digging deep. Anyone who would go to such extremes to find incriminating evidence was a lot more dangerous than he'd originally suspected.

  Well, he'd been gathering ammunition of his own. He'd instructed Matt to do a full-scale priority investigation on both of the Carpenters. And he'd made it clear he wanted to know everything, down to the name of their first grade teachers. If he had to launch a counterattack he'd be ready.

  He felt a twang of regret but quickly squashed it. She'd betrayed him, or had intended to. Of course they wouldn't have found any evidence of fraud. That didn't mean she couldn't have caused damage. If she'd gotten classified information on companies GFI wanted to acquire, they could've leaked the information and driven up the price, or shared bid information with a competitor who could then underbid them.

  Leaning his head against the back of the chair he closed his eyes. Damn if he hadn't been falling for her. He hated to admit it, hated the fact he'd let her make a fool of him. Bitterness made him clench his jaw. The woman was poison. Thank God he'd found out before she'd really gotten into his system.

  He pushed the chair back and stood up. Who the hell was he kidding? Wasn't he still hoping Matt would turn something up to vindicate her? Hadn't that been part of the reason he'd ordered his security chief to do a full investigation after she'd almost dared him to do it?

  And what about the other night when he'd seen her walk into that pub where he'd stopped to get dinner? Hell, he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her. She'd been plotting with that bastard she married to ruin GFI, for God sake, and he couldn't get the woman out of his head.

  He glanced at the time. Matt would be here in a few minutes. He had called Wednesday afternoon to say they'd completed both investigations, but Gage hadn't had time to meet with him until this afternoon.

  He wanted to be done with it. When he saw the report in black and white, he'd finally be able to let go of the idiotic hope that just maybe, when she'd looked at him with those pleading green eyes and said you're so very wrong, he had been.

  ~~~

  Several hours later, Gage sat on the couch in his office quietly staring out the windows, the open file with Matt's report on the table in front of him. The same couch where Abby had fallen asleep…what…a lifetime ago, and touched off feelings he'd rarely felt.

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. If only he'd done a little more digging…or waited until Matt's team had finished their investigation before he'd condemned her. He'd just felt so betrayed when he'd seen that picture of her with Carpenter, the bastard's arm draped over her shoulder as if he owned her.

  Gage sighed heavily. He should have paid more attention to the nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere. He'd had it often enough. How could he have possibly guessed the truth, though?

  His eyes drifted back to the file containing Matt's report, and he shook his head. He never would have equated the beautiful woman who had rendered him a jealous idiot with Abby Sheridan, the starry-eyed kid whose father had accused him of statutory rape.

  Talk about your ugly duckling turning into a beautiful swan. Well, not that she'd been ugly, just—he couldn't actually remember what she'd looked like back then. He only knew her that one summer, and she'd just been a kid. She sure as hell hadn't looked anything like she did now, though. He was pretty sure about that.

  Gage smiled sadly. She used to have a crush on him. He remembered his friends used to tease him about his little shadow. He could recall being amused at the time, the way she followed him around like a big-eyed puppy.

  Green eyes. Damn! He used to call her green eyes when she came into the store. And he'd called her the same thing the night she'd come to his office. Ironic he remembered it now when it did him no good. Or had a part of him recognized her after all and been trying to give him a heads-up? Too bad he hadn't been bright enough to make the connection.

  How could she believe he'd changed his mind about working with her because he had an old grudge? Or even more outrageous, that he thought she wanted to stalk him? Gage smirked. If only.

  What he'd accused her of had been a hell of a lot worse, and now he'd put her in a very tenuous position at work. He knew there'd be some fallout when he called Norwell on Monday to have her reas
signed to the account.

  Gage didn't really give a damn what Norwell or Billings thought. He did care about making things uncomfortable for Abby, though.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. After the way he'd treated her, there was a good possibility she wouldn't agree to work with him now. She might even ask Norwell not to take Billings off the project

  Gage frowned. He didn't like Billings. The guy was smart enough, but he reminded Gage of a worm, and after meeting with him, Gage was more convinced than ever Abby would do a better job.

  Well, let her buck. Business was business. He'd insist Norwell put her on the account and find a way to make things up to her. In time, she might even forgive him enough to consider letting him into her personal life.

  Getting up, he went to his desk to pack up for the night. An old memory began to play through his head. He concentrated until he could bring it into focus, then he smiled. He'd be taking a little trip to the shore tomorrow after all, but it wouldn't be the Keys.

  ~~~

  Keeping her spirits up on the tide of her divorce had become increasingly difficult when the rest of her life was floating in a toilet just waiting for the flush.

  An afternoon of shopping had provided a brief distraction. Dinner with Rachael had been, as it usually had been lately, both entertaining and frustrating. Her dear friend was convinced if she could hook Abby up with the right man, all would be well in the world. Odd, considering every time a man showed a genuine interest in Rachel, she cut him off with the precision of a surgeon wielding a very sharp knife.

  With summer approaching it was beginning to stay light longer. Abby crossed the street and continued walking down Walnut. By the time she got home it would just be getting dark. She could have taken a cab, but she'd opted for walking a lot lately. She enjoyed it, and these days she snatched whatever pleasures she could get.

  Just the thought of gritting her teeth through another week of Harold's deliberate taunts churned up visions of snake pits and medieval dungeons. The guy just loved rubbing salt into her open wound. Why did he have to be so immature about everything? Abby scoffed at herself. And fantasizing about pushing him into a pit of vipers isn't just a touch pubescent?