JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance (6 page)
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"What the…?" He glanced down at her feet in frowning concern.
"You have no business manhandling me like this!" Rigidly Abby found her balance and tried to push herself away from him.
"I didn't cause you to lose your balance. You must have slipped on that envelope."
"What envelope?" She pushed aside a pale tendril of hair that had escaped the loosely arranged topknot and fallen into her eyes. Then she stared at Torr as he released her to lean down and pick up the white object on the floor. Wordlessly he straightened and handed it to her.
"I must have dropped it earlier," she mumbled, brows attempting to knit across the top of her nose.
"It's addressed to you and it looks as if it was slipped under your door," Torr pointed out.
He was right, of course. She didn't recognize the envelope and had certainly not dropped one addressed to herself earlier before leaving the apartment. Her name and address were neatly typed on the outside. Quickly Abby tore it open, wondering which of her neighbors had left a message for her.
"It's probably from Mrs. Wilkins down the hall wanting me to water her plants while she goes off to see her new grandson." Abby lifted out the stiff piece of paper that was inside the envelope. As she saw what she held, she nearly dropped it.
Stunned to a level of momentary numbness, Abby stared at the color photograph in her hand. No, it couldn't be! It wasn't possible. Her mind felt curiously blank.
"What is it, Abby?" Torr moved to glance over her shoulder.
His interest in the photograph broke the short, shattering spell that had gripped her. "Just a photo I loaned Mrs. Wilkins the other day. She wanted to see some pictures of my last vacation." In another second or two, Abby knew, she would be descending into outright babble. She had to get rid of Torr immediately. She needed time to think, time to assimilate the full implications of the shocking photograph. Hastily she shoved the picture back into the envelope and whirled to face him.
He was studying her with the cool, assessing gaze that she had grown accustomed to during their classes in flower arranging. There were times when she had found the intensity of that gaze almost amusing. Tonight it was terrifying.
"Good night, Torr. Thank you for a very
interesting
evening."
He watched her a moment longer and she nearly panicked as she realized she couldn't predict exactly what he would do next. She wanted him out of the apartment at all costs, but what on earth could she do if he opted to stay?
"I'll pick you up around one o'clock tomorrow," he finally said.
"Yes, yes, one will be fine. I'll be ready," she answered him far too quickly.
When he reached for her she shrank back nervously, a protest on her lips.
"My good-night kiss, remember?" he prompted very softly.
She didn't argue. It seemed the fastest way to get rid of him. Obediently Abby turned her face up for his kiss, her fingers hovering against his shoulders. If he was surprised by her meek behavior, Torr did not comment on it. Instead he folded her close until she felt overwhelmed by the heat and strength of him and then he fastened his mouth on hers.
For a traumatic moment Abby was almost overpowered by a dangerous longing to simply surrender to the virile strength that surrounded her. The temptation was wholly unexpected and beyond anything she could have imagined. His kiss fused her to him, promising passion and protection, and she moaned softly far back in her throat as she realized the danger and the desire that threatened to take control.
He held her deeply in thrall for several long seconds and then, reluctantly, Torr released her. The knowledge that she had been on the edge of belonging to him, even if only for the space of one kiss, flared through his awareness, arousing him and urging him to pull her back into his arms.
But there was too much uncertainty in the air, too many unexplained factors between them yet. He was not a boy, Torr told himself grimly. He could wait. Rushing things now might well ruin everything.
"Good night, Abby. I'll see you tomorrow. I found our evening together
interesting
, too." With a wry smile he let himself quietly out the door and heard the lock being slipped into place behind him.
The memory of her silvered blue eyes stayed with him as he climbed into the BMW and started home. Abby had wonderfully expressive eyes, he reflected coolly. At various times during the evening he had seen laughter and warmth and even excitement mirrored in the silvery pools.
But when he'd shut the door of her apartment behind himself the expression in her eyes hadn't been anything close to laughter or warmth or excitement. Instead, her gaze had been filled with a new and unfathomable tension. She was probably even now taking one of her vitamin tonics for the problem.
Torr's face settled into its customary hard lines as he drove through the city streets. What had that business with the photograph been about, he asked himself. It had been a picture of Abby and someone else—a man, he felt certain, although the second figure hadn't been as focused. And the setting had been title parking lot of a large motel.
Motel? Or a resort? The resort that had been pictured in the brochure lying on her kitchen counter the night before?
What game was Abby playing and how long would he give her before yanking her out of the action?
The question kept him awake long into the night.
T
he phone rang in Abby's kitchen at nine the next morning. She glanced at the clock with a sense of shock as she roused herself from bed, found a robe and went to answer the imperious summons. Nine o'clock! She never slept that late. But the previous night had been a restless one and when sleep had eventually come, it had been filled with nightmares of winter on the coast and even more disturbing dreams of a man with black hair and amber eyes—a man who offered passion even as he offered an undefined sense of menace.
"Cynthia!" The sound of her cousin's voice calling from
"Oh, sorry, Abby, did I wake you? You're always such an early riser," Cynthia apologized cheerfully. "And now that I've got Laura I've discovered the joys of early rising myself."
"Most new mothers complain about the upset in their schedules after the babies arrive," Abby managed to say with a reasonable note of lightheartedness in her voice. Cynthia was almost the last person she wanted to talk to this morning. Stifling a groan, she perched on a stool and propped her elbow on the counter. "How's baby Laura doing?"
"Great! Hungry as a little piglet at the moment. I'm feeding her while I chat with you. How's the vitamin business?"
"Thanks for reminding me," Abby said with genuine gratitude as she reached for a nearby bottle. "I haven't taken my iron yet today." She unscrewed the cap and gulped a couple of the black tablets. Then she leaned over the counter and ran water into a glass.
"You and your pills," Cynthia said, sighing.
"I need the energy."
"No kidding! Late night?"
"Don't sound so enthusiastic about it," Abby complained, reaching for another bottle. It wouldn't hurt to take a few more B vitamins. Her nerves weren't feeling so great this morning.
"But I am enthusiastic. You've been living like a nun for so long—"
"Cynthia, that's not true and you know it." Abby decided to take two of the vitamin B tablets on the theory that if one was good, two were better.
"It is true. You haven't had a serious relationship since you were involved with that real-estate executive two years ago."
"I date. I'm not living like a recluse." Abby protested more as a matter of form than because she thought it would influence Cynthia. Her cousin had spent the past couple of years growing increasingly concerned about Abby's policy of arm's-length relationships.
"Dating and having a wild affair are two different things, Abby. It's time you had an affair."
"Gee, thanks. Got anyone in mind for me?"
"That," Cynthia announced grandly, "is precisely why I'm calling today. I am going to introduce you to a very interesting vice president whom Ward just hired. You're going to love him. About thirty-five, divorced, good-looking…"
"Oh, Cynthia. Not another one." Abby bit her lip, her gaze falling on the damning photograph on the counter near the vitamin C tablets.
"I'm thinking of a small dinner party on the eighteenth. How about it? We'll keep it casual, of course. Ward won't have any trouble getting John to come. After all, Ward's his boss. I think I'll fix poached salmon and—"
"Cynthia, please."
"Was the guy who kept you up last night any more interesting than the one I'm offering?" her cousin challenged spiritedly. "How did you meet him?"
Abby was staring so hard at the out-of-focus image of the man in the photograph that she almost misunderstood the question. Then she realized Cynthia was referring to Torr and not the man in the photo. "In a class I've been taking on the art of Japanese flower arrangement," she told her.
"A class on flower arrangement! Good grief! Abby, he's probably gay or something. What kind of man takes classes in flower arrangement?"
"An unusual one," Abby admitted dryly. "And I'm pretty sure he's not gay."
"Hmmmm." Cynthia broke off thoughtfully and Abby could almost see the wheels turning inside her cousin's beautiful head. "Were you, uh, testing to make sure last night? Is he still there?"
"No, he's not here," Abby heard herself retort irritably. "Cynthia, stop worrying about me. I'm doing fine, really I am."
"Abby, after you spent so much time worrying about me this past winter, you must know it's only natural for me to be concerned about you now."
"People always worry about mothers-to-be," Abby tried to say lightly.
"Especially mothers-to-be whose marriages have suddenly taken a nosedive, right? It was a little rocky there for a while, wasn't it?" Cynthia's voice held remembered pain and fear.
Abby heard a crinkling sound and looked down to find she had begun to crumple the photograph. Angrily she finished the job. "Cynthia? Everything's okay now, isn't it?"
"Oh, Abby, I've never been happier," her cousin assured her, sounding very certain. "It was just that everything happened at once shortly before the baby was born. Ward had all those problems at work and he was under a great deal of strain. And I was solely concerned with the baby. Then, after Laura was born I had my hands full and there just wasn't time enough to be both mother and wife. Thank heavens I realized I had to get hold of myself and the situation before everything went to pieces. Life is just perfect now. Maybe we owe it all to those vitamin tonics you insisted I take."
"Can I get your name on a letter of endorsement?" Abby tried to project a smile through the teasing words.
"Always the businesswoman! But I'm serious. Maybe all those pills you fed me did some good. All I know for certain is that I would have been a basket case if Ward had walked out on me. He's the most important person in my world. Even Laura will have to take second place to my husband, I'm afraid."
Abby heard the feminine intent and decision in her cousin's words and swallowed awkwardly. Ward was the most important person in Cynthia's life. Her cousin would be crushed if she were standing beside Abby and looking down at the crumpled photograph on the counter. Tears stung Abby's eyes. Tears of rage and a nameless fear.
"Abby. Are you still there?"
"I'm here."
"Oh, I thought we'd been cut off for a moment. I've got to hang up. Laura needs changing and the little devil has just spit up all over me."
"The joys of motherhood," Abby murmured.
"Go ahead and laugh. I've never been happier. I've got it all, Abby. How many women are this lucky?"
"Not many."
"Going to see the man from last night again?"
"This afternoon."
"Good. Where are you going?" Cynthia demanded.
"To the rose gardens."
"The rose gardens! Abby, are you quite sure he's, well, a viable candidate?"
"Believe me, I'm sure! Goodbye, Cynthia. Thanks for calling."
"Have fun! And keep the eighteenth free just in case."
Fun, thought Abby as she hung up the phone, was about the last thing on her mind. She climbed down off the stool and started toward the bathroom for her morning shower. It was then that she spotted the second envelope on the floor just inside the front door.
Even before she bent to retrieve it with trembling fingers, Abby was certain it would contain another photograph. With a sense of dread she clumsily unsealed the envelope and slowly pulled out the color print inside.
In this shot there was no mistaking the identity of the man. His profile had been clearly caught and held as he walked out of the hotel room beside a woman. This time the scrap of ocean in the background made it plain that the location was a coastal one. Abby wanted to cry out with anger and frustration as she studied the other image in the photograph. The woman beside the man was herself.
For a long moment she simply stood staring at the print, her mind reeling with the implications. Someone had taken photos of her during that weekend she had spent at the beach this past winter. Someone had followed her and taken pictures of herself and a man clearly sharing a weekend together. Someone had stood right outside her front door, literally stalked her. Abby shuddered. Why?
Over and over the question pounded through her brain. Why would someone do such a thing? In a gesture of restless anxiety she turned the print around between her fingers. She was concentrating on it so furiously that it was several seconds before Abby realized there was another slip of paper inside the envelope.
The note, she thought distractedly. This must be the note. Wasn't there always a note with blackmail threats? Oh, God. She was becoming hysterical. She yanked out the slip of paper and quickly read the typewritten message.
There are other pictures. Several of them. The kind of pictures that could ruin a marriage such as your cousin's. But all things are negotiable, aren't they?
It was unsigned, naturally. Abby's teeth clenched together as she realized the extent of her helplessness. Fury battled with fear, sending her nerves into a fragile state. Her pulse raced with adrenaline but there was no outlet for either of her instinctive responses—fight or flight.
Her mind began to whirl in useless, agitated circles, making it virtually impossible to think straight. Desperately she tried to collect her thoughts, pacing the living room with frantic strides. There was no way to fight the shadowy blackmailer. She had no idea who it was or when he would appear in person. Abby felt like a sitting duck waiting for the bullet from the hunter's gun.
Her steps became more restless. Twice she struck a stray box of vitamins with her foot. When she almost tripped over the box a third time, Abby kicked at the green-and-gold package with frustrated panic. She had to do something more constructive than pace her living room. This was going to get her precisely nowhere. Wondering wildly what other people did when confronted with situations like this, she tried to force herself to outline her options.
The short list that occurred to her was hardly inspiring. In fact, its meagerness generated increasing panic.
Her world narrowed down to the threat represented by the photos and the instinctive need to protect Cynthia. Nothing else mattered. She was a cornered creature who had to take some decisive action or find herself being maneuvered by an unknown hunter. Abby froze at that thought. She would not sit here and wait for her fate! There had to be something she could do to protect herself and Cynthia.
Chewing unconsciously on her lip, she forced herself to go to the window and gaze unseeingly out at the morning
do
something! But there was nothing, no one tangible yet, to fight.
Which left only the flight response, Abby decided abruptly. Whirling, she headed for the bedroom. The blackmailer couldn't do much if he or she couldn't reach the victim. There was always the possibility that he might go straight to Cynthia with the pictures, but that didn't seem entirely logical. There was no money to be had that way.
No, it seemed more probable that the blackmailer would first try to find the intended victim. And if the intended victim were out of town, it might just give Abby the breathing space she needed to figure out what was going on and who was attempting to threaten her.
The decision to run gave her a sense of taking some action instead of offering herself as an easy target. It was an illusory sense of action. She knew it even as she showered, dressed in jeans and a narrow ribbed-knit red sweater, and began to pack. But instinct told her that the blackmailer would seek her out and if it took a while to hunt her down, she might be able to use that time to do something constructive. If she could lure whoever it was out into the open, identify him or her, she might be able to retaliate.
Not knowing how long she would be gone, Abby forced herself to pack carefully. It was April, early spring in the
Hotel room. What hotel room? Where was she going to go, she asked herself. And what about the deliveries scheduled to be picked up during the week by her salespeople?
More time was spent as she got on the phone and arranged to have her top saleswoman handle distribution. Gail Farley was willing, if mildly surprised.
"Sure, I'll come over right now and collect the boxes. But when will you be back, Abby?"
"I'm not sure. Something's come up and I could be gone a couple of weeks. I'll tell the apartment manager to let you into my place if you need more supplies, okay?"
Then there was the impatient wait for Gail to arrive and collect enough boxes to last the salespeople for at least a week. By the time the other woman had driven off with a selection of MegaLife products stacked high in the back seat of her car, it was after twelve.
Abby took a last glance around the apartment and then spotted her own private collection of vitamin bottles. Hastily she gathered them up and dumped them into a small zippered bag. If she'd ever needed vitamins and minerals, it was now! Just before she closed the bag she reached inside, retrieved the bottle of vitamin C tablets and popped a couple into her mouth. This was no time to leave herself open to the possibility of colds or flu.