She had been in love with Sam and hadn’t felt adequate for him. And all that time, he had been in love with her, holding back for the same reason. And not once did he mention her disability. Would they have ever discovered their mutual affection? Probably not. The irony lanced through her. And to top it off, Maxine had been in love with Sam, too. All the twists and turns were manifesting themselves in her stomach, doubling her over.
The phone rang, though even the jarring sound hardly penetrated her wall of numbness. The answering machine picked up, and she closed her eyes as a happier Sam told the caller he would return their call at his earliest convenience.
“Maxine, this is Sally. I really need to talk to you.”
Maxine picked up the portable phone. “Hi, Sally, I’m here.” She perched against the counter, her back to the door.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re there. I’m probably overreacting, but, well, it’s daddy.”
Maxine closed her eyes. She just didn’t have the heart to discuss Armand right then. “What’s wrong with him?” Now that was a loaded question.
“I know things aren’t, well, good with you two right now, but you have to talk to him, maybe get him into counseling. He hasn’t been the same since you moved out. All he does is pace and scratch his eyebrows and talk about getting you back. James has had to run the entire business, because daddy just isn’t…there. I’m afraid I didn’t help much, either. I was trying to get him to forget you, so I told him…” Her voice lowered. “I told him that you and Sam were probably screwing each other’s brains out five times a day. I’m afraid it put him over the edge.”
Maxine heard the key slip into the lock, and elation shot through her. Sam was back, and soon, which was a good sign. She remained where she was, not wanting to appear anxious. “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she said. “I gotta go.”
Romeo let out a low, happy woof that Maxine agreed with. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but at least Sam was home. Then she heard Romeo’s low growl at the same time she heard the high-pitched voice.
“Maxine, Mr. Wiggles has come to get you.”
CHAPTER 12
MAXINE WHIRLED around in disbelief to find Armand standing there with his dummy. He looked as pale as the creepy thing did, and nearly as sensible. His eyebrows were covered with red, scratch marks. The bugs Sam had told him about. Dread curled around her as he closed the door behind him. She hadn’t locked the chain, but Sam had locked the door. Her gaze dropped to the key ring he jangled nervously in one hand, then to the billy club in the other.
“What did you do to Sam?” she asked in a rushed whisper, the words barely managing through her tight throat.
Anger rippled across Armand’s face. “It’s always him you’re worried about, isn’t it?” He lifted Mr. Wiggles. “Why aren’t you worried about your kissums? He cares more about you than that P.I. does.”
Romeo’s dark growl raised the hairs on her arms. Armand held out the billy club, backing the dog away.
“Don’t you touch that dog,” she said.
When he looked at her, he was wearing a macabre smile. “I’ve come to bring you back to your senses, cherry lips.” He glanced around the apartment. “He’s got you brainwashed, ever since that accident at the house. But now I’ve come to rescue you, like one of those heroes in the movies. Your nightmare is over.”
Her chin trembled so violently, she bit her tongue. “What did you do to Sam?” she asked again, fearing the answer lie in that billy club.
“Don’t worry about him,” Mr. Wiggles said, twisting his head in an unnatural way. “Armand made sure he was out of the picture.”
She leaned against the counter for support. “Has it been you all along?”
“Just come with me, Maxine,” he said in a deeper voice. “I’m going to tuck you away until you realize how brainwashed you’ve been. Then you’ll see how much you love me, how happy you were with me. I got used to the idea of being married to you. I don’t want to give it up.”
“You’ll find someone else.” Her mind scrambled for a weapon. Romeo kept growling, but that club kept him from getting closer to Armand.
“There is no one else, Maxine. I waited all these years just to meet you. I can’t wait any longer. I want you now. We’re getting married, and I’m not going to leave your side until things are the way they were before.”
She had to believe that Armand wouldn’t hurt Sam, not badly anyway. But she didn’t know Armand. She didn’t even know the man she’d worked with and loved for four years, not really. Right now she had to get out of there and find Sam. The only way to do that was to go with Armand.
“Okay. Let me get my coat.” She knelt down and pet Romeo on the way. “It’s going to be all right,” she said more for her benefit than his. The blood pulsed against her temples, her insides so wound she could hardly breathe.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Maxine,” Armand said. “You know that, don’t you?”
She glanced down at the club then quickly back up to his eyes. “I know,” she pushed out.
He did not look well. His face was pale between the blotches of red, and his eyes had a hazy quality to them. His smile seemed at odds with his rigid body posture. In fact, he looked more like his dummy than the other way around.
She slipped into her coat, moving away when he lifted a hand to help. Her hands were trembling. Armand gripped them before she could pull them away.
“Everything will work out for the best.”
She was beginning to doubt that. “I hope so.”
She opened the door and sucked in the cool air in the stairwell. Sam was out there somewhere. The door downstairs opened with the suction of air, then closed shut again. Gripping the handrail, she took the steps quickly. Armand was right behind her.
“I missed you.”
She pushed open the door and looked around. Sam’s car was parked halfway down the block. Suddenly someone grabbed her and pushed her down into a bank of snow.
“Sam!” she screamed out before getting a mouthful of the cold, wet stuff.
She gained her balance as he lunged at Armand. With a quick twist, Sam had Armand’s arm bent behind his back. Sam shoved him against the door, sending a gush of air from Armand.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked. All she could do was nod. “Go up and call the police.”
“Please don’t murder me!” Armand cried out in a pained voice.
“Why shouldn’t I return the favor?” Sam asked as Maxine slipped past them.
Her knees would hardly hold her up as she pulled herself up the stairs and into the apartment. Romeo’s woof was a warm welcome as she made her wobbly way to the counter and the phone. It was like that first day when her mind didn’t know she could walk yet. After calling the police, she made her careful way back downstairs to Sam. Armand was lying in a heap on the sidewalk, Mr. Wiggles sprawled out beside him.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Aw, he was annoying me, something about me brainwashing you into hating him. So I punched him out.” He put his hand to the back of his head and grimaced.
“Did he hit you with the billy-club?” she asked, moving closer.
“Just a little.”
As soon as she got near him, he reached out and pulled her up against him. His hands framed her face and his expression became grave. “I screwed up, and you almost died because of it.”
She burrowed against him, craving his warmth and his aliveness. At his words, though, she looked up at him. “Sam, this wasn’t your fault. You told me to put the chain on the door. I was too…I didn’t.”
“I was supposed to keep you safe,” he said in a low voice.
“You did, by telling me to put the chain on the door. This isn’t your fault.” When he rubbed the back of his neck, she said, “You should see a doctor. Sometimes head injuries can be…fatal.”
“Ah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just have a whopper of a headache for a while. It’s the least of my worries, believe me.”
“What happened?”
“I walked out and the garbanzo bean whacked me with the stick. I went out for a minute or two.” He tightened his hold on her. “All I could think about was getting to you.”
He rested his chin on her head, and she closed her eyes. She was safe again.
“I can’t believe it’s over.”
“Do you think it was him behind everything?” Sam asked.
“It has to be. That look in his eyes, it was like there was a demon in him, a strange glow of evil. Maybe he had some cockeyed notion of killing me to keep me with him.” She shuddered. “Maybe he was going to keep my body in a freezer or something.”
“God, Maxine, don’t be so morbid.” After a moment, sirens pierced the air from a distance. “The only thing that bugs me is, where is the gun he took from Floyd?”
She glanced down at Armand’s figure. “Maybe it was his backup plan.”
Sam sat on the couch while Maxine made a fresh pot of coffee. The aroma tweaked his stomach, and he remembered the great meal she was going to make them that night. Another thing he’d screwed up.
After the police had put an unconscious Armand in the squad car and questioned Sam and Maxine, Armand had woken in a fit. Writhing and foaming at the mouth, he’d accused Sam of brainwashing Maxine into hating him. Sam had ushered Maxine upstairs at the start of the debacle, then returned to help the two officers subdue Armand.
As it turned out, that wasn’t necessary. They’d said that as soon as Maxine had left his sight, he’d sunk into a catatonic state. They hadn’t been able to get a confession about his owning a gun or whacking Floyd, not even a nod when they’d read him his rights. Later, Dave had told Sam that they were going to try to match DNA evidence found at Floyd’s apartment to Armand. Even Sally and James had requested that Armand be evaluated by a psychiatrist.
Sam pushed all thoughts of that business away and sunk into the mellow, soul-easing music of Pink Floyd. Only two ornamental lamps were on, casting slanted slices of light over the carpet and coffee table. Maxine walked around the couch and handed him a cup. Her fingers lingered on his for a second before she turned and walked into the bathroom. When she emerged, she carried some supplies that looked suspiciously medical.
“What are those for?”
“You.” She sat down on the couch and gestured. “Turn around.” Her hands touched his side as he turned. “Now lean back. There, that’s good.”
It was very good actually. She was kneeling sideways on the couch, and he’d slid between her legs. They tightened around him, securing him there.
Her fingers glided through his hair, making the persistent throb dim. The sweet scent of her, the heat of her body and the feel of her surrounded him. He closed his eyes, blanking his mind of everything but those physical sensations. Then she swabbed on something that brought him swiftly back to reality.
“Ouch. What is that?”
“Hydrogen peroxide. Hold still.”
She was gentle. He wished she’d bang him around. God knew he deserved it. Getting hit by the garbanzo bean, however, was a different story.
“Is it bad?” he asked. “I’m imagining a huge, red lump roughly the size of a football field.”
She laughed softly, and the sound swirled through him and dulled the pain again. For a moment, he believed that all the world’s pain, unhappiness and injustice could be solved with that sweet laugh.
“It’s not as bad as mine was.” She touched the small bandage still hidden beneath her hair. “You’ll live.”
“Right now that’s not a comforting thought,” he said in a low voice. Romeo settled his floppy chin on Sam’s leg, giving him a woeful look. “It’s all right, buddy,” he said, rubbing his head. “I know you did the best you could. You’re not exactly a pit bull, are you?”
Romeo whined softly, but kept his head there. Somehow dogs knew when their masters were hurting. Sam wondered which pain he was responding to, the one on the outside or the one inside.
“Sam, you shouldn’t say that,” Maxine said in a firm voice.
“What? He isn’t a pit bull. Look at him.”
“I mean about living not a comforting thought.”
“I know. It just came out.” He let out a sigh, wishing he could expel all that ugliness right out of him.
Maxine pulled at him until he leaned back against her. She slipped her hands over his shoulders and rested her cheek against his back. He could feel her heartbeat, the rise and fall of her chest. He’d almost lost her. The thought made his head pound even harder.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked.
“Because I—because you saved my life.”
“I didn’t save your life. Stop trying to make me out as some kind of hero.”
Her hands tightened on his chest. “Yes, you did save my life.”
He closed his eyes, feeling as though some great weight was pushing him into the couch cushion. “Been a helluva night,” he murmured.
“You got that right.”
For a moment he thought he was going to fall asleep. His thoughts drifted on the edge of the music, carrying him with them. Then he saw Jennie’s face. He felt himself stiffen and relaxed his muscles again. His heart still hadn’t gotten over the shock. Jennie, his friend. Jennie, his partner at work. His heart had been holding back on him all that time. Why had making love with Maxine tripped the realization? He would never forgive himself for that lousy timing anymore than he’d forgive himself for not saving Jennie.
So why was Maxine still there? It looked like Armand would be treated for his mental ailments, and possibly connected to Floyd’s murder. Maybe they would get him on attempted murder, though Sam knew it would be a hard one to prove. If she was safe now, she could go home, but she had no home to go to. That didn’t answer why she was holding him, treating him as if he were some hero. He was nobody’s hero. Especially not Maxine’s.
He’d honestly thought her ego wouldn’t withstand his confession. Maybe he even hoped she would get mad and leave. Some small part of him, though, was glad she stayed tonight. Because, despite his best efforts, Maxine had become something she had never been to him before—a friend. The sex, and Jennie, got in the way. Strangely enough, something in Maxine reminded him of Jennie. It was eerie, and it was messing with his head big time.
She sighed, and the soft sound went right to his gut. “I suppose I should find a place to live tomorrow. Maybe I’ll call Gabrielle and ask if I can room with her for a while. I’ve got a life to figure out what to do with.”
He couldn’t wait to get her out of his life so he could figure out where his head was. Yet he found himself saying, “I could use some help in the office for the next week or so.” He wanted to think it was pity because she had nowhere else to go, no other job. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to think.
Her fingers had tightened at his words. “I’d like that, Sam.”
He waited for her to ask what it meant, but she didn’t. Maybe she was only accepting out of pity for him. That thought irked him, but he wasn’t in the mood to explore or validate it.
Still, he found himself wanting to know what her plans were for the future. And afraid to ask lest she think he was interested personally. Oh geez, was he interested personally? No, not with Maxine. The timing was bad, the chemistry was bad—no, that was still good. Better, actually. Okay, the timing. Besides, eventually she was bound to remember how much she loved shopping, loved having money and prestige and all that other stuff he couldn’t give her. She’d get over this strange infatuation, and his life would be…well, it would still suck.
Sam felt like a zombie when he woke the next morning. He was almost used to sleeping on the couch, but he distinctly remembered having Maxine as a pillow. He reached behind him and felt something that was not Maxine. Sitting up, he gained his bearings and tracked down the sound he heard. He ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the painful knot. Not quite the size of a football field, but pretty darned close.
Wal
king to the bedroom opening, he found Maxine placing her clothing in her suitcase. She moved slowly, pausing to look at every item before folding it and putting it away. His blood ran bittersweet as he watched her. They couldn’t live together anymore, so he should be happy she was leaving. On some level, he was not. What he needed was a vacation, a long one very far away by himself. Just the thought renewed him, though it didn’t lift the melancholy haze hovering over him. He already knew he couldn’t leave for long, not with the Armand thing still up in the air, but he could go away for a short while.
She opened the bottom drawer and lifted a handful of those delicate panties. The note slipped out and fluttered to the floor. He watched her kneel down and pick it up, looking over the strange words with a wry smile.
“I forgot about the handle,” she said softly, tucking the note in her suitcase and closing it. That’s when she jerked upward and let out a yelp. “Sam. Good grief, how long have you been standing there?”
Those words reminded him of when she’d said them before, when she’d been dancing. “Not long.”
“Do you always sneak around watching people?”
He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
Her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then she tugged the suitcase off the bed.
“I’ll get it,” he said, walking it to the door. After he set it down, he turned to find her watching him. He knew why she was anxious to leave. Hopefully she’d changed her mind about wanting a second chance with him. In any case, his admission had probably done her libido in.
When she opened the fridge to get her French vanilla creamer for her coffee, she pulled out the package of shrimp. It seemed strange that something like that could cause a knot in his stomach. That one was definitely the size of a football field.
“Take it with you,” he said. “I won’t eat it.”
Something darkened her green eyes. “Gabby always liked when I cooked. Maybe I’ll bribe her with shrimp for a place to stay.”
“When did you cook? Was it only the time you weren’t with me? It seems that before and afterward you were Wolfgang Puck’s sister or something.”
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