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¡Maldita sea!
He knew when he resorted to his native Spanish that he was in trouble. And damning everything at large seemed to require that.
“You don’t think it has anything to do with the spying case, do you?”
The smile faded. He regretted that, but this was more important.
“No,” she said, in a tone of voice he could never have imagined coming from her. Weary, hurt, broken…he wasn’t sure what it was, only that he didn’t like it. Not from her.
“Then what? Or should I ask, who?”
Finally, she looked at him. Her usually bright blue eyes were shadowed now. Haunted, in a way he’d seen only in people in trouble, or in people from his days on the streets.
“Lilith,” he said softly, aware but unable to stop himself from removing the safe barrier of formality of last name only.
“Daniel Huntington.” She took a deep breath. “My ex-husband.”
He blinked. He’d known she’d been married, but also that it had ended before she’d come to Redstone. Long enough ago that it hadn’t concerned him. Realizing he’d been glad to learn that had been his first clue that he was slipping into dangerous territory.
His brow furrowed. “I thought…Then why ‘Mrs.’ Mercer if it’s your maiden name?”
“I dropped his name. People assumed the Mrs. because they knew I’d been married, and it was just…easier.”
And kept men away? he wondered. Not that it would keep some away, but the some it wouldn’t deter would be the kind she wouldn’t be interested in anyway. He knew that much already.
“What about him?” he asked.
“Josh suspects that if these things are more than accidents…he might be behind it.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Past history. But it’s as impossible that it’s him as it is that it’s Stan Chilton or Santerelli.”
He could see that she didn’t want to get into it, so although he knew they’d have to talk about it eventually, he changed tacks. “Where is he? Local?”
“That depends,” she said, finally giving him the level look that was her norm, “on whether you consider Chino local.”
He shrugged off the first thought that hit him; half the kids he’d grown up with were in Chino. At the California Institute for Men. But there was no way…
His thoughts faded as the way she was looking at him slowly registered.
“Yes,” she said, that weariness he’d heard before echoing in her voice again.
“He’s…in prison?”
“Has been for nearly two years.”
He was beyond puzzled. The only thing he could think of was that the man had committed some white-collar crime.
“He’s on the Level I side? Minimum security?” he asked, although he didn’t understand why the man wasn’t in some country club kind of place instead of a hard-core lockup like Chino. Guys from his world went to Chino. Not hers.
“No. Medium security.”
Belatedly it hit him. If Josh suspected her ex might be behind what had been happening to her, then he must have a reason.
“What is he in for?”
She held his gaze with that nerve that had only wavered for a moment. “He tried to kill me.”
Chapter 5 (#ulink_f501ce61-5438-51a2-9aab-4710591bd818)
She’d seen that look before. The shock, the incredulity. It was nothing new to her, that kind of skepticism.
So why did it hurt, when she’d thought herself inured to it long ago? Had she simply gotten unused to thinking about it? Or was it more complicated—was it that it was this man doubting her that made it sting?
She gave herself a mental shake. She’d left all the doubts behind, and she was not going back. She stood up abruptly. “If you don’t believe me, then you surely can’t believe there’s any need for this. Tell Josh so, and we’ll both get back to business.”
He was on his feet before she could take a step. “I never said I didn’t believe you.”
“You didn’t have to, Mr. Alvera.” She saw him wince slightly at the formal appellation, but didn’t stop. “I’ve seen that expression too many times to mistake it.”
“What you saw was…shock. Amazement. Astonishment. But not disbelief. You wouldn’t lie.”
That flat, bald assessment mollified her somewhat. But the way he was looking at her still made her uneasy. She studied him. Tried to separate the tough and efficient agent she knew he was from the darkly handsome, rakish appearance. Tried to think only of his dedication to Josh and to Redstone, and not how the dimple that carved his right cheek when he smiled took him from dangerous to charming in a split second.
“This isn’t just going to go away, is it?”
He shook his head. “Nor am I. So we might as well get started.”
She was, she thought tiredly, going to have to explain. She sank back into her desk chair, wishing herself anywhere else, confronting any other onerous task.
And when did wishing ever help you out of a bad situation? she asked herself.
“Never,” she muttered.
“What?”
She grimaced; she hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “Just reminding myself that wishing is for children.”
He sat back down himself, and was silent for a moment before he said softly, “Yes, it is. And the day you outgrow wishing is a sad one that comes too early for too many.”
Something about his tone enabled her to get it out, what she never talked about. “You want the condensed version?”
“For now,” he said, and the implication that there would be more later was nearly as unsettling as his presence.
She braced herself, then began. “Daniel Huntington. Pillar of the community. Wealthy family. Perfect manners. Charming. Polished. Urbane. Blue blood. Only one little glitch in his perfection.”
If the staccato presentation registered with him, he didn’t show it. His expression never changed when he said, “Which was?”
“He beat his wife.”
The emotionless mask vanished for only an instant, but Lilith didn’t miss the suddenly feral look that flashed in his eyes.
“The perfect cover,” he muttered.
Startled at his quick understanding, she nodded. “Exactly. His stature in the community, his background, his Ivy League upbringing, it all made it nearly impossible for anyone to believe.”
Something changed again in his expression. “If it was anyone but you telling me…”
She didn’t miss the implication of what he was saying, recognized a second assertion that he’d never not believed her, specifically.
After a moment, he went on. “I didn’t think things like that existed in…your world.”
A wry sort of amusement quirked one corner of her mouth upward. She perhaps could forgive him more than most; the world he’d grown up in was so radically different, hers must seem like some perfect dream. It spurred her to more explanation than she’d given to anyone in a very long time. “I was as…surprised as you. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t lived it. It took me a long time to realize that in Daniel’s case, he could only have become what he was in his world.”
“But it was your world, too.”
“Yes. But I had parents and grandparents who had worked incredibly hard to get where they were. Daniel’s family was a few generations down from the workers and felt it was now their place to lead their lessers.”
Tony snorted inelegantly, then muttered an apology. She merely smiled. “Exactly how I feel,” she said.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but all he said was “Go on.”
“He was the only son, and was catered to and fawned over from the day he was born. He was raised with a powerful sense of entitlement, that he was born to the elite and deserving of all their privileges. What started as a quick temper and a sense of superiority in the child became a brutal arrogance in the man.”
“But he took it out only on you.”
She nodded. “He limited it to inside his own home, yes.”
“Which makes it worse,” Tony said, his voice rough. “It means he had some control. He chose when and where. He chose…”
His voice trailed away, and she finished it for him. “Me. Yes, he did.”
“Bastard.” He didn’t apologize for that one.
“Yes,” she agreed calmly.
And she was calm, somewhat to her surprise. Tony Alvera was angry enough for both of them. And that not only surprised her, it warmed her in an odd sort of way. Enough that she was able to go on.
“I found out much later, thanks to Josh and John Draven, that he’d done the same thing to his first wife. But he’d managed to hush it up.”
“Did he kill her?” Tony asked, his voice harsh. The possibility obviously didn’t startle him.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Draven is. He found her, talked to her. In her case they paid her off. She took the money and ran. I can’t blame her. If I hadn’t had Josh standing behind me, I might well have done the same.”
He gave her a long, level look. “I don’t think so,” he said, and something in his gravelly voice touched her. “How did it start with you?”
“It seemed almost accidental. We’d been married six years. I forgave him that time. He’d had a horrible day, a big deal had fallen through, he’d meant to strike the wall, not me, it would never happen again, it was all a mistake…all the usual excuses men like that make.” She gave him a wry smile. “He even cried. It was a nice touch.”
“Croc tears.”
“Yes. But from Daniel Lee Huntington, quite effective. He is—was—perfection personified, the man who had it all, looks, money, position. And I’m the one who destroyed his perfect position in his perfect world.”
“He blames you.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t treat it as one. “It was really only thanks to the detective who worked my case,” she said. “She devoted herself to taking Daniel down. And she did it, despite pressure from a lot of quarters. The Huntingtons can wield a lot of influence.”
“And did?”
She nodded. “To this day, a lot of people in his world support him. Some because they honestly can’t believe he would do such a thing, others because they can’t afford to cross the Huntingtons.”
“What happened? That got him arrested?”
“He had another bad day, nearly a year after the first. He again chose to take it out on me. That was it, for me. I waited until he left, then began to pack. He must have sensed something, because he came back. This time he used a weapon. A fireplace poker.”
“Son of a bitch.” The curse was whispered, but no less furious. And again Lilith felt that warmth. Silly, she thought. It didn’t matter anymore to her who believed her and who didn’t. It was the past, long past, behind her and as close to forgotten as it could ever be.
At least, it had been.
“I managed to trip him, and it gave me enough time to get away. I didn’t get far before passing out from blood loss.” She heard him suck in a breath, but finished it. “Someone found me and called the police.”
She stopped there, as if that were the sum total of the story. And for these purposes, it was; the long, horrible nightmare of the trial was not something she wanted to relive in any form.
Tony sat there, looking at her steadily. He didn’t prod her for more, or even look as though he had more questions. He looked as if he was seeing what she wasn’t saying. And his next words proved her right.
“They put you through hell to put him away, didn’t they?”
She saw no point in denying it, especially since that would require exactly what she was trying to avoid, reliving the experience. “They tried. But by then I had help.”
“Josh.”
“Yes.” Then, knowing this was the part Josh would never tell him, she went on. “While I was in the hospital, I saw on the news that Josh was in town. I hadn’t seen him in years. I’d spoken to him now and then, but…in any case, I called him. I’m not sure why.”
She knew she didn’t have to say anything more; no one knew better what it meant to be in trouble and have Josh Redstone on your side.
“You said he’s been in for two years.”
“Nearly, yes.” Guessing what his next question would be, she answered before he had to ask. “His lawyers managed to keep him out for over three, but two years ago his appeals ran out and he was sent to prison. And he was just denied a parole hearing. He thought he should get one sooner than the sentence specified, because…he’s special.”
Tony smiled at that. It was a smile Lilith thought she wouldn’t like to see aimed at her; there was nothing of civil discourse in it, and a great deal of that feral wildness she’d seen flash in his eyes before.
“Good,” was all he said.
“So you see why he can’t be behind this. I appreciate Josh’s concern, but—”
