by Nora Roberts
“You have to listen.” His voice urgent, he buried his head in her lap. “You have to give me a chance to show you, to prove to you how much I love you. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you. Nothing Ive done, nothing Ive touched since has meant anything. Ill do anything you want.” He lifted his head and with some horror, she caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. “Be anything you want. If youll only forgive me, let me spend every minute of every day for the rest of my life worshiping you.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Shocked, panicked, she shoved at Jordan, knocking him back as she scrambled to her feet.
“Kick me. Beat me. I deserve it. Just let me stay with you.”
“Do you think this is what I want?” She shouted it as she spun in a circle. “Do you think you can control me by making pictures out of my thoughts? You dont understand what I want, and thats why Ill beat you. No deal, asshole. And this is not only a lie, its pathetic.”
The fury in her voice echoed even when she found herself standing in the empty room with the paint roller on the floor at her feet.
Scrawled on the white wall in oily black was the message:
Drown thyself!
“Fat chance, you bastard.” Though her hands shook, she picked up the roller and covered the black with fresh white primer.
Then they steadied, and her fingers dug in on the handle of the roller. “Wait a minute, wait a minute!”
Her mind whirling, she dropped the roller with a splatter of paint, grabbed her bag and ran as though the gods were chasing her.
Minutes later, she charged into her apartment. She tossed her purse aside and grabbed the library copy of Othello .
“ „Drown thyself, drown thyself. Its in here.” She flipped pages, frantically pulling the scene and context into her mind as she searched for the quote.
It was one ofIagos lines, when he was doing one of his numbers onRoderigo . She knew that line.
When she found it, she sat down on the floor.“ „It is a lust of the blood and a permission of the will,” she read aloud. “„Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown cats and blind puppies.”
She fought for calm.
A lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Yes, that described Kanes vicious acts. Jealousy, guile, betrayal, and ambition. WhatIago knew, what Othello was ignorant of. Kane asIago ? The god-king as Othello. The king hadnt killed, but still the daughters—those he loved—were lost to him through lies and ambition.
And the play—surely this play had beauty, truth, courage. Was it the key?
Ordering herself to be methodical, she paged through the book, searched its binding. Setting it aside, she found her own copy and did the same. She forced herself to sit again, to read through the entire scene.
There were other copies of the play. She would go to the mall bookstore, search through those. She could hit the library again on Monday. Rising, she began to pace.
There were probably dozens of copies of Othello in various forms around the Valley. She would go to the schools, the college. Shed knock on damn doors if she had to.
“„Drown thyself, my ass,” she repeated and scooped up her purse. She would drive to the mall right now.
Shed already wrenched open the door when it struck her. Her own fury knocked her two steps back before she slammed the door shut again.
She was being a fool, a mark. An idiot. Who had written the words on the wall? Kane. A liar quoting a liar. It wasnt a clue. It was misdirection. Something to have her running off on a tangent. Exactly as she had done.
“Goddamn it!” She flung her purse across the room. “Outright lies or twisted truth? Which is it?”
Resigned, she marched across the room to retrieve her purse. She had to find out, so it looked like she was taking that trip to the mall after all.
* * *
SHE was, Dana thought when she arrived home, probably as calm as she was going to get after spending the morning on what she was certain was a wild-goose chase. Still, shed be happier when Malory andZoe arrived. If nothing else, a girlfriend afternoon would cheer her up.
Theyd have some food, theyd talk. And when Dana had called and said she needed them to come,Zoe had promised pedicures.
Not a bad deal.
She carried the Chinese food shed picked up into the kitchen, set it on the counter. Then just stood there for a moment.
All right, she admitted, maybe she wasnt calm, maybe she wasnt steady. Not quite yet. And her head was screaming from the echoes of the morning fear, the frustration that had followed.
She walked to the bathroom, took a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet, and washed two down with tap water.
Maybe she should have opted for a nap instead of company. But despite the headache, the vague nausea, this was one time she didnt want to be alone.
She nearly flew to the door at the knock.
“Are you all right?”Zoe stepped in, dropped the bags she carried on the floor, then gathered Dana in her arms. “Im sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“Its okay. Im all right.” No, Dana realized, this was much better than a nap. “Im just really glad youre here. What about Simon?”
“Flynn took him. It was really nice. He and Jordan are taking Simon over to Bradleys. He can run around with Moe, play with guys, eat junk food, watch football. Simons thrilled. Isnt Mal here yet? She left before I did.”
“Right behind you.” Malory came hurrying down the hall, then held up a bakery box before she stepped inside the apartment. “I made a stop. Brownies—double fudge.”
“I love you guys.” Danas voice broke as she said it and, appalled, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Oh, Jesus, Im in worse shape than I thought. Its been a very crappy day so far.”
“Sweetie, you come sit down.” Taking charge,Zoe drew her across the room to the sofa. “You just relax for a minute. Im going to fix you something to eat.”
“I got Chinese. In the kitchen.”
“Thats fine. You just take it easy, and Malory and I will take care of everything.”
They fixed plates, brewed tea, tucked a throw over her legs, and generally did all the things women instinctively know how to do to offer comfort.
“Thanks. I mean it. I didnt realize I was that close to cracking. Bastard really got to me.”
“Tell us what happened.“ Malory stroked Danas hair.
“I went over to our place, to paint. I woke up cranky and needed something to do.” She slid a glance at Malory. “Sorry aboutsiccing Moe on you so early.”
“Not a problem.”
“So.” She soothed her throat with tea. “I started painting. It felt good, and I was thinking about how everything was going to look. Then he was there.”
She started to tell them, as coherently as she could, andZoe interrupted with an indignant oath.
“Thats just bullshit! Thats just a lie. Of course you matter. He doesnt know a damn thing about it.”
“Hes just playing on my weaknesses. I know it. Leaving the library bothered me, more than Ive been willing to admit. I guess Ive been feeling like what I did there didnt really matter to anyone but me. He uses things like that, then makes them bigger, more hurtful.”
She picked up her tea again and told them how hed transformed the rooms into her finished bookstore. “It was my vision of it,” Dana said. “One I hadnt completely realized I had. Not just the way it looked but the way it felt, too. And, of course, loaded with customers.”
Her dimples made a brief appearance in her cheeks. “He made it seem like it couldnt be that way unless he did it for me. That was a mistake, because it can be. Okay, maybe not bursting at the seams with customers, but the way it looked, the way it felt. It can be that way because its mine. Its ours. And well make it that way.”
“Damn straight.” Seated on the floor at her feet,Zoe gave Danas knee a squeeze.
“Then he shifted to Jordan. Ive got to have a brownie now.” She leaned forward and took one off the plate that
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Malory had loaded with them. “Theres this fabulous bedroom, one of my dream rooms, you know? The place you build in your head if you could have a room done any way you want it? And Jordans kneeling at my feet, like a supplicant. Hes all but in tears, telling me how he loves me, how he cant live without me. All this junk he would never say in a million years. The kind of thing Ive had him say in my head, so I could kick him in the teeth after. Payback stuff.”
She blew out a breath. “Jeez, hes even telling me to kick him, beat him, whatever.” She broke off at the snicker and aimed a look atZoe . Then her lips twitched. “Okay, maybe it is funny when you think about it. The Hawke, weeping at my feet, begging me to let him spend his life worshiping me.”
Malory decided it was time for a brownie as well. “What was he wearing?”
After one long pause, Dana burst out laughing. All the aches, the tension, the illness vanished. “Thanks. Man, when I think I was next to sobbing like a baby. I was even feeling guilty because the deal with Jordan was close to a couple I used to toy around with. How he would realize his horrible mistake, come crawling back and beg. It seems satisfying in your head, you know. But let me tell you, when it really happens—or seems to—its just horrible. So, basically, I told Kane he could kiss my ass, and I was back where Id started.”
Zoetook off Danas shoes and began to rub her feet. “You had a pretty lousy morning.” “Theres one more thing. There was writing on the wall, in this greasy black. „Drown thyself! I painted over it.”
“Thats horrible. He was trying to make you remember the island, the storm,”Zoe muttered. “Hes just huffing and puffing, thats all. He couldnt even make you think anything he did this morning was real. You knew it was him all along.”
“I dont think he wanted it any other way,” Dana mused. “I think he was trying a new line of attack. But the writing? Not about the island. Its a line from Othello. I recognized it almost immediately, just as Ive now realized he knew I would. I went running out of our place like a maniac to get back here and look it up. To look for the key in the book.”
“Its from a book?”Zoe swiveled around to pick up one of the copies from the coffee table. “I dont know how youd remember something like that. Its a real talent. But why would Kane give you a clue to the key?”
“Now, quick wit—thats a real talent.” Dana sighed. “I got suckered in. All I could think was that I knew the line, and how Id been focused on that play, with the wayIago mirrored Kane in so many ways. So I went baring off, half-cocked, sure the key was going to fall right into my hot little hand.”
She flopped back against the seat. “Even when the light finally dawned, I just had to follow through. Hence, half a day wasted chasing the wild goose.”
“Its not wasted if you figured it out. You knew he was lying about the bookstore,” Malory pointed out. “Know the truth from his lies? Isnt that how it went? You did. And you realized hed written a kind of lie to throw you off. But if you hadnt followed through, you wouldnt be sure.”
“I guess. Im still going to be snatching at every copy of that play I come across.”
“Ill tell you something important you figured out today.” Malory patted her knee. “You knew the truth was were in this together, so you called us. And you know, however satisfying the fantasy might be when youre hurt or mad, you dont want Jordan to be a lapdog.”
“Well… maybe just for a couple of days. Especially ifZoe can teach him how to give a foot rub.” She leaned her head back, tried to relax.
“The thing is… Im in love with him. Stupidjerkoff .”
She let out a long, long sigh. “I dont know what the hell Im going to do about it.”
Malory picked up the plate. “Have another brownie.”
* * * IF she dreamed, Dana didnt remember it when she woke in the morning. And when she woke, the drum of rain and the gloom had her turning over, with the plan to go directly back to sleep.
Moe had other ideas.
Without much choice, she threw on clothes, added a fielders cap and her oldest boots. Choosing a mug of coffee over an umbrella, she walked Moe in the rain and revved up her system with caffeine.
They were both soaked when the deed was done, forcing her to drag him into the bathroom. He whined, cried, tried to dig his paws into the floor as if she were taking him to slaughter.
By the time shed toweled him off, she smelled as much like wet dog as he did.
A shower and another hit of coffee helped. She was just about to decide which one of her books to settle in with for the rainy morning when her phone rang.
Ten minutes later, she was hanging up the phone and grinning down at Moe.
“You know who that was? That was Mr. Hertz. You may not be acquainted with Mr. Hertz or Mr. Foy, who are involved in the longest-running trivia contest in our fine county. Apparently, the contestants assumed yours truly was on vacation and therefore unable to play master of ceremonies in my usual fashion.”
Amused and ridiculously delighted, she walked into the kitchen to pour her third cup of coffee. “However, this morning Mr. Foy stopped into the library and was informed I was no longer on staff.”
She leaned back on the counter, sipped coffee as Moe appeared to listen with avid attention. “Questions were asked and answered, mostly answered by the detestable Sandi. Mr. Foy, according to Mr. Hertz, gave the opinion that my departure was, quote, a downright, dirty shame, unquote, and vacated the premises.”
As if riveted, Moe cocked his head and panted.
“Shortly thereafter, the two trivia aficionados held an informal meeting over at the Main Street Diner and decided that if the powers that be at the Pleasant Valley Library didnt appreciate a treasure such as myself, they no longer wished to have that institution involved in their daily information pursuit. Ive just been asked if I would continue as emcee on a freelance basis.”
Because it was just Moe, and he was nothing if not sympathetic, she didnt feel embarrassed when a tear trickled down her cheek. “I know its probably stupid to feel this touched, but I cant help it. Its just nice to know Ive been missed.”
She sniffed back the tears. “Anyway, Ive got to go online and find out when Chef Boy-Ar-Dee manufactured its first box of pizza mix.” She headed off, coffee in hand, to her desktop. “Where do they think up these things?”
* * *
IT kicked her into gear. Dana decided it was symbolic. Shed received validation of her purpose, her place in the community. The simple fact was, the Valley was vital to her, and this in-between stage—post-library, pre-bookstore— had left her feeling disenfranchised.
It wasnt the amount of work she had to do but the fact that the work shed done in the past hadnt seemed to have any significance to anyone other than herself.
She dived in with a vengeance, placing orders for books, opening accounts, ordering her displays. Her mood was lifted to the point that when she was deep into the key books and the knock interrupted, she wasnt irritated.
“Time to come up for air anyway.” She pulled open the door, then frowned at the young man who stood there, holding a single red rose in a clear bud vase. “Trolling for girls? Youre pretty cute, but a little young for me.”
He flushed, red as the rose. “Yes, maam. No, maam. Dana Steele?”
“Thats right.”
“For you.” He passed her the vase, then took off.
Still frowning, Dana closed the door, then tugged off the card tied to the vase.
Reminded me of you,
Jordan
In his mind, Jordan was in the forest of the Pacific Northwest. Hunted. He had his wits, his will, and his need to see his woman again as his weapons. If he could survive for the next five minutes, he could survive for ten. For ten, he could survive an hour.
For the hunter wanted more than his life. It wanted his soul.
Fog slithered, gray snakes along the ground. The blood from the hastily bound wound in his arm seeped through the bandage and dripped into the mist. The pain kept him sharp, r
eminded him that he had more than blood to lose.
He should have seen it for a trap. That had been his mistake. But there was no going back, no point in regrets, no point in prayers. His only option was to keep moving. And to live.
He heard a sound. To his left? A kind of whispering the fog could make when parted by mass. He melted into the trees, pressed his back against bark.
Flight, he asked himself, or fight?
“What the hell game are you playing?”
“Christ Jesus.” He popped back from the world in his mind, the one speeding onto the screen through the rush of his fingertips over keys.
The speed of the trip had the blood roaring in his ears as he stared at Dana.
She stood in the doorway, hands on hips, eyes full of suspicion.
“This is the little game I call writing for a living. Go away, come back later.”
“Im talking about the flower, and Ive got just as much right to be here as you do. Its my brothers house.”
“And this is, currently, my room in your brothers house.”
She gave it one derisive scan. There was a bed, unmade, her own childhood dresser that shed passed to Flynn when hed bought the house, an open suitcase on the floor. The desk where Jordan worked had been Flynns during his teenage years and was missing one of the three drawers that ran down the side. On it was a laptop, some files and books, a pack of cigarettes, and a metal ashtray.
“Looks more like a weigh station,” she commented.
“It doesnt have to be pretty.” Resigned, he reached for his cigarettes.
“Thats a brainless habit.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He lit it, deliberately blew out smoke. “Half a pack a day, and mostly when Im working. Get off my back. Whatre you riled up about, anyway? I thought women liked getting flowers.”
“You sent me a single red rose.”
“Thats right.” He considered her more thoughtfully now. Her hair was pulled back, so shed been working. She hadnt bothered with makeup, so she hadnt planned on leaving the house. She was wearing jeans, a very faded Penn State sweatshirt, and shined black-leather boots with a stubby heel.
Which meant, he deduced from his knowledge of her, that shed been planning to work around the apartment, then had grabbed the first pair of shoes that came to hand because shed been in a hurry.