The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series

by Alexandrea Weis

  For the first time in all my years of dealing with her, I saw fear in Sammy Fallon’s eyes. She took a step back from Dallas and struggled to regain her composure.

  “Mom, can we take Emily home now?” Eddie asked as he came up alongside of Sammy. “She’s crying and I don’t want to…” He stopped and stared at his mother. “What’s wrong?”

  I could see a light tinge of red starting to creep up Eddie’s throat.

  “What’s going on?” Eddie begged, a little louder than before.

  “It seems your mother is some kind of frustrated nymphomaniac hell-bent on destroying my love for Nicci,” Dallas explained to Eddie.

  Eddie looked confused. “What’s a nymphomaniac?”

  Sammy rolled her eyes at her son. “He just insulted me, Eddie. He and Nicci have been playing your mother for a fool.”

  “Nicci?” Eddie turned to me. “What is Mom talking about?”

  “Get your whore of a mother out of here, Eddie, before someone gets hurt,” I said, raising my voice just enough to be heard by those around us.

  The partygoers surrounding our little group suddenly grew quiet.

  “Whore?” Eddie shouted. “Nicci, don’t call my mother a whore.” He took a step toward Dallas. “You told her to say that, didn’t you? My Nicci wouldn’t say anything—”

  “Your Nicci!” Dallas laughed with astonishment. “My God, man, are you blind? She’s my Nicci.” He paused and glared at Eddie. “How on earth could a woman like Nicci ever be interested in a wife-beating drunk like you?”

  The whole courtyard had instantly grown quiet.

  “Why you—” was all Eddie got out before he jumped on Dallas.

  “Eddie!” Sammy screamed as she grabbed for her son.

  But Dallas was, once again, too quick for Eddie and ducked to the side of Eddie’s advancing fist. The redheaded mop of hair quickly fell to the bricked paving beneath our feet. In an instant, Sammy was at her son’s side, holding him back from making another attempt at Dallas.

  “No, Eddie!” Sammy shouted. “Not here,” she said, lowering her voice so only Dallas and I could hear. Eddie seemed to calm in her arms, and he stopped fighting to get up off the ground. “We’ll get them, my baby, but not now. Not in front of all these people,” Sammy whispered. She then helped Eddie to his feet. Eddie’s green eyes were filled with rage as he stared at Dallas.

  “Come on,” Sammy urged as she tugged on Eddie’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Sammy quickly disappeared with Eddie into the rear of Val’s house. All eyes then turned to us.

  I could hear Dallas breathing next to me in the stillness of the courtyard.

  “’Bout time somebody set those two straight,” a man’s voice called from the bar.

  Dallas and I turned to see Uncle Lance toasting us with his champagne glass.

  A twitter of laughter mixed with some applause broke out around us. A wave of relief swept over the guests and the uneasy air surrounding us lifted. The murmur of conversation began again and people quickly rekindled their party mood.

  I looked over at my uncle and mouthed a silent thank you. He smiled at me and then turned back to the bar.

  “You amaze me, Nicci,” Dallas whispered beside me.

  “I amaze you?” I laughed and then took a deep breath. “That’s a first.”

  “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, something like that little confrontation with Sammy happens, and I see a whole new side of you.”

  “I’ve wanted to say those things to Sammy for a long time.”

  Dallas grimaced beside me. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

  “Did you get the response you were hoping for?” I asked.

  He nodded. “We’ll find out when we get to Hammond, but I think our little scene provided Eddie and Sammy with plenty of motivation for revenge.”

  I took a big sip from my champagne. “One more to go,” I said as I looked down at the empty flute in my hand. “I’m going to need another one of these before I can face Michael,” I confessed as I showed my champagne glass to Dallas.

  “Too late,” Dallas murmured next to me. “Our man just walked in the door and he has already spotted you.”

  I felt my grip tighten on my glass. “Do you think Hattie has told him about us?” I asked nervously.

  Dallas casually glanced over at the entrance to the courtyard and smiled. “Oh yeah,” he added, widening his fake grin. “Aunt Hattie has definitely passed on the good news.”

  I raised my eyes and immediately saw Michael standing at the entrance to the courtyard; his pale blue eyes were all over me. He was dressed in an impressively tailored black tuxedo. His mother, Ginny Fagles, was next to him. His mother’s short red hair was coifed perfectly and she was wearing a fitted black tea-length dress with a choker of saltwater pearls around her short neck. I could see the resemblance between Michael and his mother as they stood side by side. They had the same coloring and stocky stature. Ginny Fagles was chatting away to some woman on her right. She didn’t seem to notice when Michael left her side and quickly walked over to where Dallas and I were standing.

  Dallas extended his hand to Michael as he approached us. “Ah, Dr. Fagles.” Dallas tauntingly accentuated the title of doctor.

  Michael quickly shook Dallas’s hand. He nodded cordially at me as his eyes lingered on my necklace. “Nicci, you look very nice this evening,” he said, frowning.

  I could hear the tension in his voice. His face had that constipated look again and his cheeks started turning a pale shade of red.

  “Nice!” Dallas roared with sincere laughter. “Are you kidding? She looks like a queen! My Nicci looks absolutely spectacular.”

  Michael’s eyes traveled up and down my gown. The constipated look turned into something resembling the surprised stare of a fish suddenly caught on a hook. “I don’t remember you ever wearing anything so audacious.” He pointed to my necklace. “And when did you get that?”

  “Audacious?” Dallas laughed again. I almost kicked him, thinking he was overdoing it. “No, my dear Doctor, Nicci was made for such expensive trinkets,” Dallas assured as he put his right arm about my waist, pulling me to his side. “I bought it for her. It’s an early engagement present,” he added.

  Michael scowled at Dallas, but addressed me as he spoke. “I heard your aunt just mention to my mother that the two of you are getting married.”

  Dallas looked at me, grinning like an exuberant schoolboy. “Can’t let this fine beauty get away from me.” He turned to Michael. “Once I get a little R&R in Hammond then I’ll be taking Nicci back to New York with me.”

  Michael eyed the sling over Dallas’s left arm. “I heard about your accident. Lucky for you it wasn’t worse than a few cuts and bruises.”

  “I’m mending slowly. My Nicci’s a wonderful nurse.” Dallas nuzzled my ear playfully.

  Michael’s eyes burned into mine. “Yes, she had great potential in the medical profession. Shame you gave all that up to write books.”

  I cleared my throat nervously and went to take a sip from my champagne only to find my glass empty.

  “Well, excuse me for a moment, Doctor Fagles.” Dallas released his arm from around my waist as he stepped away from me. “I’m just going to go and find Val.” He glanced over at me. “I want to ask her about the caterers she has here tonight, darling. In case we want to use them for the wedding.” Dallas took the empty champagne glass from my hand. “And I’ll get you another one of these. Back in a moment, sweet cheeks.” He patted my bottom right before he walked away.

  I groaned silently to myself. Dallas slowly made his way to the house, exaggerating his infirmity as he moved through the crowd.

  “Nicci, we must talk,” Michael whispered, moving closer to me. “I came here tonight to see you again and to beg you to reconsider your relationship with that man.” His greedy eyes traveled up and down my body. “Seeing you again the other day with him made me realize what you meant, what you mean
to me.” He shook his head. “You cannot possibly be serious about him.”

  “Of course I’m serious about him,” I said, struggling to keep my voice calm. “Dallas and I are getting married, Michael.”

  “You can’t marry that!” Michael shouted and then he quickly surveyed the small gathering of people around us. He lowered his voice and added, “He’s making a fool of you. Parading you around in revealing dresses and gaudy baubles. Really, Nicci, this isn’t you. I can’t believe you have stooped so low.”

  I felt the tide of outrage rising inside of me, but I remembered Dallas had warned me not to let him get to me again.

  “Dallas is a good man, Michael. He loves me and will take care of me,” I avowed, repeating the same words I had used to describe Michael to those who had tried to break up our relationship years before.

  “You are better than…that architect.” He waved back toward the house. “I can’t believe you would associate with someone so common.”

  The fury inside of me quickly took control. I gritted my teeth as I scowled into his pale blue eyes. “Common? Michael, you’re the common one here. I come from a wealthy and socially prominent family, remember? Dallas is like me, he comes from money, and unlike you, he doesn’t have to go around sucking up to people to make it.” I raised my head in a haughty manner. “Do you honestly think I could have married you? Someone so beneath my station?”

  His eyes grew in size and his nostrils flared. “How dare you say such things to me!” His voice cracked with emotion, and I could see the bulging muscles beneath his tuxedo flexing. “At least I’m earning my living honestly,” he hissed, moving in closer to me, “and not on my back.”

  “Ha!” I laughed at him. “You have been selling yourself to every Sammy Fallon wannabe around here ever since we first met.” I leaned forward, making sure he got a good look at my cleavage. “Admit it. You were using me to get to them just as I was using you to get back at David.”

  He stood there glaring at me. His fists were clenched and the muscles in his jaw were quivering.

  “I loved you!” he growled beneath his breath.

  “Love?” I shouted. “You don’t love anyone but yourself!” I lowered my voice. “You’re a pathetic, weak-minded fool who was a lousy lay and will make any woman a worthless husband. I told everyone I knew what kind of man you were after we broke up. Why do you think your practice went to hell?” I moved my mouth closer to his ear. “Do you think I could ever go back to a sniveling wimp like you after David? He was a real man.” I placed my lips temptingly in front of his. “And so is Dallas.”

  His eyes darted furiously about the courtyard. “You’ll pay for that, you little slut,” he snarled into my face.

  “You don’t have the guts. You never had and you never will.” I turned away from him and walked toward the house.

  When I reached the safety of a small sitting area just inside the rear door, I found Dallas and Val waiting for me.

  “Well, what did he say?” Dallas asked.

  I was shaking so hard I could not speak at first. I took a moment and tried to collect myself.

  “Val, could you get me another glass of champagne?” I begged. “I can’t go back out there and face him.”

  She gave Dallas a concerned glance. “Sure thing, pet.” She then exited through the back door and into the courtyard.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” I said after we were alone. I bent over and tried to calm the waves of nausea rolling around inside of me with a few deep breaths.

  Dallas reached over and patted my back. “Calm down, Nicci. Now tell me everything he said.”

  I tried to repeat the entire conversation for Dallas, breaking down only once when my words became too venomous for even me to utter. After I had finished, Dallas stood by me, quietly mulling over what I had said.

  “That will definitely do it,” he eventually stated, nodding his head. “Hell, that would have provoked any man. You did good, Nicci.”

  I took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t want to be good at any of this. I just want it to be over.”

  “Don’t worry. It soon will be. We’ll leave for Hammond first thing in the morning,” he assured as his smile receded. “Then the real fun begins.”

  Chapter 22

  The drive to Hammond took a little over an hour with the morning commuter rush causing some minor delays. Along the way, Dallas surveyed the damage left from Hurricane Katrina in the swamps surrounding the city. Tall treetops had been sheered off, leaving twisted trunks staring up into the sky like broken bones protruding from a beaten body. Dead branches, trash, and even a few boats, lay in piles scattered along the side of the interstate. Fishing camps built upon the edges of Lakes Pontchartrain and Maurepas had been turned into unrecognizable heaps of debris. And everywhere the haunting smell of decay hovered over the fragile wetlands like an invisible fog.

  “No matter where you turn there are reminders of the storm,” Dallas commented beside me. “It gets depressing after a while to see so much devastation all of the time. You can never get away from it.”

  “No,” I said, taking in the battered swamps around me. “I don’t think we will ever be free of Katrina.”

  As we pulled into the town of Hammond, Dallas eyed the genteel surroundings with amazement.

  “Looks like some old southern movie with the plantation homes and the moss-draped oaks.” He turned from his window and looked over at me. “How did he ever find this place?”

  “My father helped him find the house,” I replied.

  “David never told me that,” Dallas said, sounding a little surprised.

  “He settled down here a few weeks before the pseudo-engagement party Val gave me and Michael. He loved the country scenery and the quiet. It was a good place for him to paint.”

  We made our way through the modest back roads outside of the city of Hammond and I watched as Dallas reveled in the lingering remnants of the old South. But as I drove down the shell road leading to my Acadian house, I heard Dallas laugh to himself.

  “Yes,” he whispered, “I bet he loved this place.” He turned to me. “It’s him.”

  The place still appeared as it had when David had renovated it so lovingly before his death. The boards around the porch he had painted a deep mahogany red and the four square posts situated along the porch line he had done in white. The shiny tin roof he had replaced sparkled in the early morning sun. The two white swings David had added still sat at opposite ends of the porch, but there were fewer trees around than when he had first bought the place. Several of the moss-covered oaks had been lost to Katrina.

  I pulled the car up to the red brick path that led to the front porch.

  “Is there a back entrance?” Dallas asked.

  I nodded. “Through the kitchen.”

  “Pull up around back then,” he ordered, sounding like himself again. “Let’s empty the car then I want to put it in the garage and chain the doors shut.”

  I drove around behind the house. As soon as I had turned off the engine, Dallas was out of his door and heading to the back steps that led to the kitchen.

  “What is that, a sunroom?” he asked, pointing over to David’s old studio off to the side of the kitchen.

  “David had it added on, to paint in. I just have some herb plants and a table in there now.”

  He gave a dismissive wave at the room. “Get the table and plants out of there. We’ll have to find some way to seal it up at the entrance. Glass rooms are easy to break into and it’s in the back of the house so we won’t be able to hear if anyone does get in.”

  He looked up at the second floor of my home. “How many bedrooms?”

  “Three upstairs,” I answered. “There are two bathrooms upstairs and one half-bath downstairs.”

  He walked toward the steps to the back door. “Let’s get the supplies in right now,” he called over his shoulder, “and then you can walk me through the place.”

  Reflexively I went
over to help him up the stairs, thinking of him as still recovering, but he turned his cold eyes to me.

  “I can do it, Nicci. I don’t need you nursing me anymore.”

  I felt my heart plummet with regret. In an instant, he had changed before me. The professional was back, and I was, once again, nothing more than a job. I left his side and went to start unpacking the groceries from the car.

  He came over and picked up two bags from the back of the Jeep. I could see his face pale when he pulled the bags close to his bruised ribs.

  “I can do this, Dallas,” I insisted.

  He walked to the door carrying the bags. “No, I have to do this. I can block out the pain. It’s simply a question of mind over matter.”

  “Oh,” I mumbled to myself, “I thought it was simply a question of stupidity over sense.”

  “I heard that!” he shouted behind me.

  Once the groceries and supplies were inside my bright yellow kitchen, I took the Jeep and locked it securely in the garage.

  As I stepped out from the garage, I saw Dallas coming toward me carrying a hammer. He began nailing a piece of plywood over the only window in the garage. I turned to head back to the house.

  “I told you not to leave my sight,” he snapped.

  “I have to put the groceries in the freezer.” I saluted him sarcastically. “As you ordered, Captain Bligh.”

  “Very funny.” He turned away from the window and handed me the hammer. “Can you finish this?” His face was pale and sweaty. He wasn’t as well as he pretended to be. “And don’t hammer like a girl,” he added.

  “I am a girl and will hammer any damn way I please.” I made my way back to the garage. “Men and their fascination with their tools,” I grumbled to myself.

  “Are you finished?” he called from behind me.

  I turned to him, raising my voice, “Are you?”

  He sighed, walked over to me, and pulled me into his arms. I let the smell of his cologne envelop me and reveled in the warmth of his embrace.