by Hunt, Angela
Disbelief flickers in Gina’s eyes, then steely determination returns to those fiery orbs. “So he hasn’t given it to you yet. But he’s going to, I know. It’s not in his safe at the house.”
With a shiver of vivid recollection, Michelle remembers Parker’s parting words: By the way, I ordered something special for you….
Realization strikes all at once, like a jolt of electricity to her spine. Parker didn’t ask her to come downtown to give her an engagement ring; he wanted to give her a diamond bracelet. He isn’t planning to propose…because he is already married.
To this outraged woman.
Michelle lifts her head to meet the eyes that seem intent on impaling her. “I didn’t know.”
“You should have known.”
“Maybe…I should have.” Now she understands why Gina looks familiar—the striking green eyes that smile from the children’s portrait in Parker’s office are Gina’s eyes. Amanda has this woman’s chin, and Matt her nose.
And Sam is a girl. In the portrait, painted from a photograph of the kids playing at a ski resort, Sam is a shorthaired, chubby-cheeked five-year-old in a snowsuit. Michelle had assumed Sam was a boy and Parker never corrected her assumption. Last year, when Sam’s birthday rolled around, he even agreed with Michelle’s gift suggestion of a baseball glove.
Just as he acted on her idea to buy Amanda a ring last December.
“Did your husband—” she struggles to keep the sound of stunned disbelief from her voice “—give Amanda a ring last Christmas? A band made from Black Hills gold?”
When a tide of hurt washes through Gina’s eyes, Michelle has her answer.
She turns her head, unable to monitor her reeling thoughts and the gun only inches from her face. This is insane. Any moment now she will wake up and console herself with knowing that her life, her love and her secrets are still intact—
But there is the gun, and above it, the steely eyes of a wronged wife. Parker Rossman, the father of her child, is a complex man, not easy to know intimately, but she knows him…or does she? If he lied about having a wife and two sons, did he lie about his feelings for Michelle? Has he ever told her anything true?
With the gun steady in her right hand, Gina sinks back to the floor. That ring! She and Mandi had marveled over the intricate design of pink and green leaves; she had been impressed with Sonny’s taste and thoughtfulness.
Yet Sonny deserved none of the credit—his mistress had been responsible for everything. He had allowed this stranger’s influence to touch his daughter at Christmas, a time when families participate in the exchange of gifts. How could Sonny have allowed this woman to infringe on such an intimate occasion?
The determination that drove her to this building now has a sharper spur.
“I should have recognized you,” she says, punctuating her words with jerks of the gun. “Tall, slim, young—I have a picture of you walking on my husband’s arm. He’s looking at you like you’re the cream in his coffee.”
From the corner of her eye, Gina sees the maid cross herself.
“I didn’t know,” Michelle says again, a catch in her voice. “He told me his wife was dead.”
“Maybe to him, I am.” Gina laces every word with venom. “Maybe he thinks of his children as dead, too.”
“He loves his kids. He talks about them all the time.”
“Really?” She swallows a hysterical surge of incredulous laughter. “Tell me—did he introduce you to my children as his mistress, or did he pass you off as a client? How many times has he lied to them about you?”
Tears slide from beneath the younger woman’s closed lids, glittering like silver in the dim light. “He never let me meet the kids. He was so protective…I thought he didn’t want to risk them getting attached to me…you know, if things didn’t work out.”
Gina feels the corner of her mouth twist. Something inside her is relieved to hear that Sonny didn’t expose the children to this woman, but she doubted he had the kids’ best interests in mind. Matthew might be taken in by a pretty face and Samantha could be gullible, but Mandi is sharp; she’d sense anything that wasn’t right and she’d tell.
No, Sonny wasn’t thinking about guarding the kids. He kept the children from this woman to protect his own sorry rear end.
Across the elevator, Michelle opens her hands in a gesture of entreaty. “I don’t know what to say. I would never go out with a married man—I would never want to break up a family. I’m sorry.”
“Shut up.” Gina lifts her free hand and massages her pounding temple. “I need a few minutes to think.”
This morning she had tried to plan for every possible scenario, but she could never have imagined Sonny getting off scot-free while she sweat in a metal box with his pregnant mistress and a gutsy Mexican girl. The best-laid plans of mice and men have done more than go awry; they have doubled back to snare her.
But she can think herself out of this mess. She has time. She has courage enough to do whatever it takes to protect her children.
When she lowers her hand, she finds that her thoughts have crystallized. Though the mistress’s baby is an unexpected wrinkle, her plans for Sonny don’t have to change.
Still, children always complicate things. When Gina’s sister divorced her gutless husband, he got custody of the kids, child support and alimony because Marion had established a medical practice while he’d sat on his tush watching soaps and football on TV.
Gina won’t allow anything like that to happen in her situation. When they get out of this elevator, she is not going to let anyone set aside part of the estate to provide for this woman’s child.
With newfound determination, she lowers the gun to her lap and looks the mistress in the eye. “I hate to break it to you, Michelle, but my husband is not going to be thrilled about that baby you’re carrying. He has to pay for three college educations, so don’t count on him for child support. I won’t let him spend a penny on an illegitimate brat.”
Michelle shifts the focus of her gaze from some interior field of vision to the gun in Gina’s lap. All traces of good humor vanish from the curve of her mouth and her eyes. “You know, you caught me off guard when you pulled that thing out, but now I understand—you came here to kill Parker.”
Gina doesn’t flinch. “I told you—I came here to ask for a divorce. I brought the gun because I thought I might run into looters.”
Icy contempt flashes in Michelle’s eyes. “You were planning to shoot Parker and leave him up there until after the hurricane passed. We all saw what happened during Katrina—it’s possible no one would find him for days—”
“You’ve got quite an imagination.” Gina smiles without humor and crosses her arms, moving the pistol to her left side. “Why would I kill Sonny? He’s the guilty party in our broken marriage, so I’m sure my lawyers can devise several ways to empty his pockets. He’ll be ruined when I force him to buy out my share of the business—I own half the company, you know. Rossman Life and Liability wouldn’t exist without me.”
Depleted by the waning of her adrenaline rush, Gina sets the Rohrbaugh on the floor and stretches her cramping fingers. “I’ll admit I wanted to scare Sonny,” she says, idly studying her nails, “just like I wanted to scare you. But I could never shoot him. I wouldn’t.”
She glances up, looking for some sign that her lie has been believed, but Michelle’s expression remains grim. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. When they escape this stifling cage, she will have to tell the police that Gina said the gun was a bluff.
Leaving the gun at her side, Gina swipes a hand through her hair and finds herself yearning for a cigarette. She hasn’t smoked in years, but right now she’d happily commit armed robbery for a lighter and a pack of Kents. Her hands need something to keep them occupied…like a length of piano wire and Sonny’s neck.
What is that Kipling quote? Something about pairs—ah, yes: For the sin ye do by two and two, ye must pay for one by one.
Sonny still deserves to die, but he
r kids shouldn’t have to suffer. She left the house early so she could take care of things without involving the children, but now they’re alone and probably frantic. If chaos theory has its way with this elevator…
As water drips from the open hatch in an arrhythmic patter, Gina’s anxiety shifts to a deeper and more urgent fear. She can’t bear the thought of her children being orphaned. Her will names her sister as their guardian, but Marion is more doctor than mother; family lies at the bottom of her priority list.
Gina concentrates on taking steady breaths as another alarming thought rises—if Michelle’s baby is born, the truth will come out. People will want to know who the child’s father is, and Michelle won’t hesitate to tell them. Though most of society doesn’t even blink at infidelity these days, Sonny’s crowd prides itself on discretion. If his reputation is soiled, Gina’s children will pay a price.
Even if Sonny’s in the grave, his family won’t escape ridicule.
How will Matthew get references for a profitable part-time job if the old stodgies at the club learn about Sonny’s philandering? None of them are saints, but they keep their skeletons locked in the closet. Sonny, on the other hand, has brazenly paraded his mistress through Tampa and may have even squired her to one of his Gasparilla Krewe meetings. The elite may have winked at those outings, but they won’t be as forgiving if Michelle shows up at a Gasparilla ball with Sonny’s child in tow.
Gina lifts her head as a cacophony assaults her ear—a screech of metal, the yowl of the wind, a brief rip that reminds her of shuffled playing cards. How apt—in the same hour that trauma is shattering her world, a hurricane is destroying her shelter.
But she’s not alone…and perhaps she’s looking at this from the wrong perspective. She’s been so busy smarting as the wounded wife, she’s forgotten that Sonny has wounded someone else.
She peers at Michelle, who looks pale and spent in the glow of the emergency light. Perhaps the woman is upset enough to terminate her pregnancy.
Gina gently clears her throat. “Have you,” she says, reaching for the pearls at her neck, “carefully considered your situation? Would you want a man who has lied to you? Would you want to have his baby?”
Michelle’s face empties of expression and locks. “You want me to have an abortion.”
“No one would expect you to carry the child of a man who took advantage of you—”
“Killing’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?” Michelle draws her lips into a tight smile. “Think back, Gina, to what you told me a while ago—you said the birth of your son was the most incredible thing that ever happened to you.”
“My situation was different. I had a husband. We had planned for the baby—”
“Maybe I won’t have a husband, maybe I won’t feel the same way. But if we get out of here, I’m giving this baby a chance.”
Gina lifts her hands in a gesture of surrender. All right, so Michelle’s hearing the tick of her biological clock. Now that she knows the truth about Sonny, she’ll probably use the little darling to her own advantage, trading her injury for sympathy as she parades Sonny Rossman’s abandoned love child through downtown Tampa.
Only one option remains, then. At some point Michelle has to die…along with the maid, who would otherwise be a witness.
Gina closes her eyes to focus her thoughts. The Mexican girl has a sufficiently shady past. She could have found the Rohrbaugh in Sonny’s office and slipped it into her pocket, shooting Michelle before Gina managed to wrest the gun away and fire in self-defense. But she’d need a motive.
Gina opens one eye to peer at the brunette’s wrist, where a watch dangles from a gold chain. Not expensive, but nice enough. The maid shoots Michelle for the watch; Gina struggles to take the weapon and kills the maid in the process. Two dead bodies, two bullet casings on the floor, gunpowder residue on everyone in these close quarters. Gina could place Isabel’s prints on the weapon, then drop it in the center of the car.
It’s not the most carefully thought-out scenario, but in the aftermath of a devastating hurricane, no one is likely to spend much time on the case. The authorities will be occupied with more pressing matters.
Gina swallows hard, grips the gun and stands, boldly meeting the brunette’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” she says, lifting her chin. “But I can’t allow you to leave this elevator.”
CHAPTER 21
Isabel feels herself falling. Black emptiness rushes up like the bottom of a dark lake and she will drown if she cannot breathe…
She snatches a breath when a moment passes and the red-haired woman does not fire the gun. The woman glares at Michelle with burning, reproachful eyes, but she does not pull the trigger.
Isabel brings her hands together and tries to pray: Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death….
The words that usually bring comfort do nothing to ease the torment in her soul. When she closes her eyes, instead of the light of God she sees Rodrigo’s blue and lifeless body; instead of warm comfort, she feels death’s chilly breath.
What is she to do? She has brought this horror upon them. The fire in the older woman’s eye should be directed at Isabel; she is to blame for everything. She ought to confess, but Michelle and Gina see only each other.
Like so many times before, Isabel has become invisible…but she should not be forgotten.
May God have mercy, she should not.
Michelle blinks as surprise siphons the blood from her head. She knew Gina was furious, but could she really be so calculating?
She scrambles to her feet, leaning on the wall as she pushes herself up. “I think we should take a few minutes to calm ourselves,” she says, lifting her voice to be heard above the rising wind. “You don’t want to do this, Gina.”
“Yes, I do.” The redhead’s voice rings with finality. “To protect my children, I have to kill yours.”
“Not so fast.” Michelle raises her hand, then brings it to her forehead as dozens of objections jostle and shove in her brain. Choosing the most obvious, she meets Gina’s eye. “You know I didn’t get pregnant on purpose. I had no idea Sonny was married.”
“Maybe you should learn more about your men before you sleep with them.”
“I thought I knew him, I thought I could trust him—” A surge of remorse catches Michelle unawares and blocks the words that have risen like a sob.
How could this have happened? Her relationship with Parker, a bond she had thought as strong as iron, is only an illusion. She had believed him when he said he cherished and adored her. She had felt herself blossom in his affection; she had allowed herself to soften to the point where she felt comfortable revealing her vulnerabilities.
She had told him about her work; he knew what Tilson Corporate Careers did and did not do.
She had almost told him about Bald Knob, her mother and her humiliations.
She had allowed him to plant a baby within her…and she had trusted him to be around when the child needed a father.
She looks away, holding one hand up like a shield, until her roiling emotions have calmed.
“You’re right,” she admits, meeting Gina’s gaze as tears trickle from the corners of her eyes. “I should have known him better. I should have asked around before I went out with him. But I was flattered when he noticed me, and I was interested in his connections. He knew everyone, and I thought he’d be good for my business. So I went out with him…for selfish reasons, at first. Maybe I’ve been with him for selfish reasons all along.”
A wry smile curls on Gina’s lips. “So you’re as big a fake as Sonny is.”
“Maybe…I suppose I am.” With that admission, the cool balm of relief assuages the rawness of Michelle’s alarm. “You’re so right, I am a fraud. It’s been years since I’ve been completely honest with anybody.”
She draws a deep breath and braces for the impact of a bullet, but instead hears a question: “What do you mean?”
She lifts her head to find Gina wat
ching her, one brow arched. The gun is still pointed at Michelle’s chest, but interest, not fury, fires those green eyes.
With a rueful smile, Michelle shakes her head. Why should she explain herself to this woman? Her plans to marry Parker have crumbled; the love of her life has proven to be no love at all. She is pregnant with a child who will demand her time and energy, yet she won’t be able to walk away from her business as she’d hoped. If by some miracle Gina doesn’t kill her and they escape this creaking box, she will still have to endure a breakup with Parker, raise his child, and deal with that dirt-seeking reporter, Greg Owens….
But it felt good to admit her reasons for first going out with Parker, and she was planning to neutralize the reporter’s threat with honesty. What better place to come clean than in this unlikely confessional?
She hauls her gaze from the floor and returns her attention to Gina. “When I first met Parker, I told him I was an executive headhunter, and that’s what my business is supposed to be. A few months ago, I told him the rest of the story, about how we don’t process even half the applications we accept. We charge large fees to write up résumés, then we send our clients to conventions and Web sites and job fairs where they can attract attention. The thing is, they could do all those things without our help.”
Gina’s pale face shows no more than mild interest, but her eyes remain alert as she leans one shoulder against the wall. “So you’re running a scam. And Sonny knew it.”
“It’s not quite a scam, but I’m not what people think I am. Everyone in Tampa thinks I’m Michelle Tilson, an MBA from Harvard. Not even Parker knows that I’m really Shelly Till from Bald Knob, West Virginia, and I never even went to college. All the academic credits on my résumé are…invented.”
Michelle’s heart is squeezed so tight she can barely draw breath, but she forces herself to make one final admission. “That’s another reason I had to come up here today. A newspaper columnist has been snooping around the agency, so I came to get his file in order to make some legitimate inquiries on his behalf.” She looks at Isabel, whose eyes are as wide and blank as bare windows. “Actually, none of that seems very important now.”