Best Laid Plans

by Allison Brennan

  He smiled. “So you’re mine today.”

  “Every day.”

  * * *

  Adeline Reyes-Worthington took visitors all Sunday at the house. Some were friends and family, others just pretended to be. Everyone had the same thing to say.

  “We’re so sorry for your loss.”

  “Harper was a wonderful man.”

  “We just saw him last week. He seemed so healthy.”

  Everyone loved Harper. That affection was the primary reason Adeline had married him. That, and his money. She needed the money to run her campaign. Her father certainly wouldn’t have given it to her. He claimed he didn’t have the five million she needed to win her first election. What had he done while being mayor of San Antonio? He’d helped so many of his friends, why didn’t he help himself? He could have mortgaged his ranch, but of course he wouldn’t do that. He loved his damn horses more than he cared about his daughter’s career.

  She needed a break. She told Joseph that she was going to her room to lie down and to make apologies for her. What would she have done without Joseph? He had been a rock for her, as her personal assistant and as a friend. He also ran the house—something Harper thought didn’t need to be done, but once Joseph came on board Harper appreciated him.

  Instead of going to her room, Adeline went to her private office, upstairs in the west wing. She liked the sound of that. She didn’t expect to ever be president of the United States—a black man could be elected president, but not a Hispanic woman. She didn’t really care, anyway. She had her own power base right here in the heart of Texas, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

  She never brought anyone upstairs to this office, where she worked while at home. The downstairs office with the antiques and view was for guests and meetings; this office was functional with a computer, printer, files, and everything she needed to conduct business—even a separate and secure phone line. She sat at her desk and looked through her schedule. Most events she would have to cancel or reschedule. She cared for Harper, but the timing of his death was poor. She had a lot of pokers in the fire right now, and going through the motions of grief was going to distract her. She supposed if she said that out loud, people would think she was callous, but Harper certainly shouldn’t have been off screwing a prostitute. The information would eventually get out, so she needed to do damage control before it did and make sure that she came out on top.

  She sorted through the in-box on her desk and saw a manila envelope with her name on it. She almost tossed it aside for her secretary to deal with, but something about it drew her attention.

  She picked it up. It was addressed to her by name only—no stamps, no mailing address, no return address. She first thought it was a condolence card, but dismissed the idea—guests weren’t allowed upstairs and there was a table in the hall for cards and flowers.

  Curious, and a bit suspicious, she opened the envelope and slid out the contents.

  There was a photo and a letter.

  Her stomach turned. The photo was of Harper, half-naked in a motel room. He appeared to be sleeping. But she knew he was dead.

  The letter was short and to the point.

  Adeline ~

  I told you two months ago that if you changed allegiances, you would regret it. I want what you owe me. You have forty-eight hours, or you’re next.

  I know you won’t say anything to the police or FBI, because I have enough evidence to bury you. Not only evidence of our arrangement, but proof that you had your husband killed.

  ~ Tobias

  Adeline was shaking so hard that she dropped the letter. The words blurred, and her eyes were drawn again to the photo. There was no proof that she had had Harper killed because she hadn’t had him killed! What had Tobias done?

  This was not happening. It could not be happening. She hadn’t heard a word from Tobias after she broke off what had once been a mutually beneficial financial arrangement. He’d been completely destroyed when the DEA shut down his gun-and-drug-smuggling operation. His inside cop had been arrested. Certainly that person would spill the beans eventually, and Adeline had had to cut all ties so she wouldn’t be caught up in the fallout. It had been a business decision, and she and Tobias were business people. She thought he’d understood that, his temper tantrum two months ago notwithstanding.

  She hadn’t taken his threat seriously because he had no more power.

  He’d had Harper killed? That’s what his threat meant?

  Adeline paced, her heart racing. This could not be happening to her. Not now.

  She hated being scared. Why was she scared of that man? He had nothing. He’d barely gotten out of Trejo’s compound alive, according to her sources. How could he think that anyone would believe she had something to do with Harper’s death?

  He couldn’t possibly frame her for Harper’s murder! He couldn’t create evidence out of thin air.

  Yet … maybe it was possible. Two months ago he’d had great power. What if he still had someone inside the police force? Someone to plant evidence? Someone to implicate her?

  Dammit! What was she going to do? She couldn’t just sit here and take it. And giving him money? She’d had to spend a small fortune to protect herself when Tobias had lost the gun shipment. She’d had to placate people, make sure they understood that it was Tobias, and not her, who had screwed up. It was the cost of doing business, she’d told him, and she stood by it.

  She had to fix this. And the only way to fix it was to take out Tobias himself.

  Except … she had no idea where he was. She didn’t know what he looked like, or if Tobias was his real name. They worked through an intermediary. She’d talked to him on secure phones, but she’d never met with him in person. He was particular about that—she didn’t know why. Their arrangement had been working beautifully for years until he’d screwed up.

  That was on him, not her.

  If she couldn’t take out Tobias, she’d do the next best thing—take out his entire operation. And she knew exactly who to call to have it done. She’d use the rest of Tobias’s money to pay for it.

  Fitting.

  If Tobias thought that she was so weak that she’d cave because he killed her husband, he would learn that he’d screwed with the wrong woman.

  She pulled a secure cell phone out of her desk and dialed the private number of Javier Marquez, whom she’d started doing business with exclusively after Tobias nearly got caught by the authorities.

  “It’s Sunday,” Marquez said.

  “Tobias had my husband killed and threatened me.”

  “Why is this my problem?”

  “He threatened our new arrangement.”

  “Tobias knows better than to come after my operation, especially when he’s been cut off at the knees. You worry too much, Adeline.”

  “He’s rebuilding.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I can tell you who and where. It’s Jamie Sanchez’s old operation. They moved safe houses. I know where they are.”

  “It will cost you. This goes beyond our agreement.”

  “I understand.”

  “Send Mr. Contreras to me with the information and payment. I will take care of it.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Once Joseph had left to meet with Marquez, Adeline paced. She nibbled at the food Harper’s grieving friends had brought, but she wasn’t hungry. She was too nervous. She needed Joseph to return and tell her it was taken care of, that Javier would live up to his agreement and Tobias would no longer be a problem.

  She was still stunned that he’d killed Harper. Tobias had surrounded himself with dangerous people, but because he was so elusive and secretive, he’d never threatened anyone directly. He’d lost nearly half the gun shipment two months ago when—according to Tobias—a mercenary seized several of the trucks while they were on their way to the buyer. That had been a major blow to the entire organization. Adeline had had to scramble to replace the money Tobias had used to obtain the guns, because the people who were expe
cting them wouldn’t take the screw-up as an excuse.

  Tobias had excuse after excuse, but in the end, Adeline had decided to cut ties with him because he was obviously reckless and weak. She’d built a solid operation without him; she certainly didn’t need him now.

  He killed Harper.

  She shook her head to clear her mind. Maybe it was for the best. Harper had been so withdrawn lately. She’d worried for a while that he was suspicious about some of her land transactions—he’d asked questions about the land she’d sold to cover Tobias’s screw-up. So what if she’d sold it for more than market value? That was how the game was played—a lobbyist wanted something from her, she needed money to save her ass. It wasn’t like she was compromising her principles—she would have voted for the legislation anyway—so what harm was it that she earned a little extra money on the side?

  She’d made up a lie about natural resources on the property and the buyer was betting on future earnings, blah blah. At the time, Harper seemed to accept her explanation and didn’t ask about it again, so she put it aside. But what if he’d started digging around? She hadn’t wanted him dead, but if anyone knew about her questionable practices, they might think that was a motive.

  Shouldn’t Joseph be back by now?

  Adeline glanced at the clock and saw that only fifteen minutes had passed. She was far too antsy, she needed to calm down. A glass of wine would help.

  She went down a curving staircase into the large, finished basement. Half of the basement had been converted into a temperature-controlled wine room with all the bells and whistles. Harper was generally frugal—too frugal at times—and she never understood why he spent so much time with his wines when he never had more than a single glass from any bottle. Such a waste. He always had prided himself on having the perfect bottle with a meal, but never allowed himself to drink to excess.

  Adeline had learned a lot about wine from Harper, but she didn’t know what the big deal was. She liked her alcohol straight up, preferring tequila to all else. She knew which wines Harper liked the best, and which bottles—in a special rack—he’d told her were for “special occasions.” Well, he was dead, and all this wine was just going to waste. She considered opening up the wine cellar for the funeral. There were at least a thousand bottles, not like they’d do Harper any good now. His friends could take one to remember him by. Or maybe she’d give them away as gifts.

  She picked up a cabernet with a French name she couldn’t pronounce and took it upstairs to the library. Immediately, she heard bells that told her someone had come through the gate. They had the code, which meant it was one of two people on a Sunday afternoon—Joseph Contreras, who couldn’t be back this quickly, or Jolene.

  Adeline opened the wine and poured herself a glass, waiting. She heard a car speed down the drive, then a door slam. A minute later, the front bell rang, followed by pounding. Adeline looked at the security camera. It was, indeed, Jolene.

  Though Adeline hadn’t changed the gate code, she had changed the locks last year and kept “forgetting” to give Harper’s daughter a key. Served her right for being a stuck-up little daddy’s girl.

  Adeline sipped the wine. It was pretty good, she supposed, but there were far cheaper bottles of wine that tasted the same to her.

  The bell kept ringing and Adeline pressed the panic button hidden in one of the bookshelves. She was so tired of coddling the whiny, spoiled child. Jolene needed to grow up.

  Adeline took her time walking to the front door.

  “Jolene, what’s with all the pounding? You scared me.”

  Jolene burst in. She wore no makeup, her face splotchy from crying. “What did you do to my father?”

  “Come, sit down, Jolene. I know you’re upset, which is why I wanted to give you time before we talked about funeral arrangements.”

  Keep it calm, motherly, Adeline told herself as she started back down the hall. It would set Jolene off.

  “No! You will have nothing to do with Daddy’s funeral. I want you out of this house. Out of my life! I know you did something. Daddy changed, something was bothering him. And I know it was you.”

  Jolene was right about Harper being preoccupied. That bothered Adeline, but she’d checked all her ventures, and nothing had been compromised. The thing about the land—he hadn’t asked again. “Jolene, dear—”

  “Don’t talk to me like you care!” Jolene followed Adeline to the library, neglecting to shut the front door. “This is my house, my home. You can’t be here.”

  Jolene stared at the wine bottle. “That—that—that was my mom and Daddy’s anniversary wine. You—” Jolene grabbed the bottle. Wine sloshed out of the top. “How dare you! He’s dead and you’re drinking his wine?”

  “Jolene,” Adeline said, “can I get you some water? Tea?”

  “Get out of my house!”

  “This is my house, Jolene. And you know it. Harper left the house to me.”

  Jolene’s face scrunched up in pain. She’d of course known about the changes in Harper’s will. She’d been upset about the house because this was where she’d grown up, but then she married Dr. Scott Hayden, who had plenty of money and had apparently promised to build her a dream house, so she finally shut up about the changes to Harper’s will.

  Jolene Ann Worthington Hayden, the prima donna princess who’d been given everything she’d ever wanted her entire life. She was the epitome of everything Adeline despised. She had a father who doted on her. A husband who worshipped her. If Jolene hadn’t been around, maybe Adeline and Harper would have had a better relationship. But Jolene was always interfering. Always that disapproving daughter, even when she said she was fine with the marriage. Harper had actually asked Jolene if it was okay to remarry! His wife had been dead for fifteen years and he’d asked his grown daughter if it was okay?

  “You manipulated him.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it. Harper always had the best lawyers. There will be no loophole you can wiggle through. If you’d been nicer to me, more supportive of my career and my marriage to your father, maybe I would have sold you this place.”

  “It’s always been about money with you. You think I don’t know? That you married my daddy so you could use his money to run for office?”

  Adeline was so angry that her eyes watered. She tamped down on the anger but let the tears come. “You never understood that I loved him. That I gave him pleasure. Happiness. He’d given up everything to raise you, and when he finally decided to do something for himself, to start dating again, to marry me, you couldn’t handle it. Your father wanted me to run for office. He encouraged me. And I had a very successful career in real estate. I brought plenty of money into this marriage.”

  “Don’t you dare rewrite history now that Daddy can’t defend himself.”

  Snot ran out of Jolene’s nose and she brushed it away with the back of her hand, like a child.

  “I think you’d better leave,” Adeline said. “Before we both say things we regret.”

  “I’m planning Daddy’s funeral. You can come, only because it’ll be expected. But I’m talking to Pastor Melton, and I’m planning the celebration of Daddy’s life, and you’ll stay the hell out of my way.” Jolene turned to leave.

  From the corner of her eye, Adeline saw the lights coming down the drive. Of course the sheriff’s department would be fast; she was a federal official.

  “No,” Adeline said. “I spent more time with Harper than you did in the eight years that we’ve been married. I will not allow you to take this away from me. Away from your father. You could never see beyond your selfish needs that your father was sick and tired of catering to you.”

  Jolene turned back around at Adeline’s accusation. “That’s not true! How dare you!”

  “Do you know how your father died?”

  “A heart attack—which I’m sure you drove him to!”

  “A heart attack? Perhaps. But he was screwing around with a prostitute. He was found with his pants down in
a cheap motel room.”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “So, the police haven’t spoken to you yet? Ask them. Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was. He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

  Jolene shook her head frantically, her jaw slack and trembling. “Daddy would never—”

  “Men do, and your daddy was a man, Jolene. Suck it up, because it’s going to leak to the press.”

  Jolene stepped forward. “How dare you—”

  Adeline looked up at her stepdaughter. Tilted her head defiantly. “I certainly wouldn’t leak the information. Do you think I want everyone to know, especially in an election year, that your father was a pervert?”

  Jolene raised her hand and noticed that the wine bottle was still in it. She screamed and lunged for Adeline. Adeline sidestepped her and knocked over the small end table. “Jolene! Stop!”

  “Ma’am!” a deep male voice said. “Put the bottle down now.”

  Jolene seemed stunned that two uniformed deputies ran into the room. “Ma’am, please,” one of them said.

  Jolene looked at the bottle and at Adeline. “I hate you!” she screamed. She threw the bottle against the wall opposite Adeline, and it shattered, spraying wine in all directions. The two deputies immediately grabbed her. One handcuffed her, then ushered her out of the den. The other turned to Adeline. “Ma’am? Do you know that woman?”

  She nodded, brushing away tears. “Yes. My stepdaughter. My husband died Friday night and Jolene—she is upset with me, with him.” She took a deep breath. “It’s about money. It’s always about money, isn’t it?” She feigned a dizzy spell and the deputy caught her and helped her sit in one of the plush armchairs. “Thank you, deputy,” she said with a half smile.

  He said, “We’ll need a statement. Are you pressing charges?”

  “I don’t know—I don’t want to. Can you call her husband? Or take her home? She’s grieving. I’m sure tomorrow she’ll regret everything.”