“And so you went to Vance.” They'd hired him a couple of times for small things, mostly to deal with women. Usually he just had to scare them, but a few of them had disappeared. Suzanne preferred to think they'd left the area. Made it easier to maintain her moral superiority to Bubba Joe. But she hadn't been surprised when Vance killed Magus. No, she hadn't been surprised.
“You couldn't possibly have had enough cash to make it worth his while to spend ten years in prison. What else did you promise him...oh, my gosh! You promised him a pardon.”
He was such an idiot, but she didn't say it out loud. She didn't need a fist to the jaw. Or worse. Bubba Joe used sex to control his women and when he was pissed, it wasn't good.
“Only if he got caught.”
“And you didn't think that people, like the police, might find it interesting that you'd pardon a killer?”
“He wouldn't be the only one. You know how I feel about the death penalty.”
Actually, she hadn't realized they were against it this year.
“Is there any evidence out there that would connect you to this?”
“Well, I had to sign an agreement with Vance or he wouldn't have done it. About the pardon. He didn't trust me!” He actually sounded aggrieved by that.
And why am I surprised
, she wondered.
“And you have no idea where it is.”
“If I did, I'd have it by now, wouldn't I?”
“Well, we know where it isn't, or you'd already be in jail. Let's focus on what you do know about it.”
Bubba Joe looked sulky again. “There's a timer.”
“A timer?”
“Yeah, he said if anything happens to his wife, some kind of timer will kick in that will release the agreement to the public.”
“Why would he feel his wife was threatened?” Like she didn't know. Good plan, Bubba Joe. Hire a killer, and then threaten his wife with bodily harm.
He shrugged. “He was a paranoid son of a bitch.”
She rubbed her face. Dear heaven, this was worse than she'd thought. “Did he mention what this timer was set for?”
“He said I'd know when it ran out.”
Suzanne frowned. “So it could be days?”
“It could be today.”
“If it was today, we'd already know. Every day the cops aren't at the door is a day we can try to do something about it.” He looked away from her. “Why did you wait to tell me?”
His face flushed red. “What can you do about it? His wife, his lawyer, they're both dead! There's nothing anyone can do about it!”
“What if someone else is involved? Someone who knew about the timer and what would happen to you if Vance's wife died?”
He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw slack, before a look of comprehension spread across his face. It wasn't a good look on him either. “But who else would know?”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe the person who told you about Vance in the first place? The only other person who knew you knew him?” She kept her tone neutral, but it wasn't easy when she wanted to shout,
Duh!
She could see him thinking back. He didn't live a lot in the past, so there was some effort involved.
“Darius Smith? You think he's the one who did this?”
He's the one her money was on.
“I'll kill him!” Bubba Joe's color darkened dangerously.
Hadn't he learned anything from the Wizard's death coming back to bite him on the ass? Oh, why did she even ask herself the question? Of course he hadn't.
“That's certainly one course of action, but it might not be a good idea to kill someone while there's evidence of your involvement with Vance floating around out there,” she said, even as her thoughts spun with the implications of Darius's involvement. If he was behind it, he'd take some delicate handling, assuming Bubba Joe didn't go behind her back again and just have him whacked.
No matter how she tried to spin it, this was bad if Darius was involved. He loved knowing things and this was a thing worth knowing. If he did have the power, he could halt or slow the timer or hold it over their heads for as long as he wanted. With it, he could force Bubba Joe to stand aside for his protege or even support him. Or worse.
She closed her eyes, pulling up an image of Darius in her mind's eye. He didn't have any apparent weaknesses. Didn't seem to be that interested in women, though he was a sexy devil in an odd, ugly sort of way. She wouldn't have minded giving him a ride, particularly if she could get him to lose control. She loved icy men with hot centers and hot women with cold hearts. A girl did have to have her hobbies if she was going to live with someone like Bubba Joe Henry.
“What are you smiling about?” Bubba said, suspiciously.
“I was thinking how we could turn this on Darius,” she lied. His jealousy was both inconvenient and hypocritical. If he'd had any idea of her recreational coping techniques, if he thought she was getting it somewhere else, he'd be reasserting his marital rights in ways he knew she wouldn't like. “There has to be a way. There's always a way.”
“I don't believe you.” She could hear the violence in his cold voice and feel his need to hurt.
It took all her discipline not to stiffen or show any sign of alarm. And then she had to push beyond that and distract him. There was only one way to distract him now and that was to act like she wanted to jump his bones. He loved depriving her of himself. It made him feel powerful.
She lifted her lashes. She rose and forced herself walk over to him and run the back of her hand along the side of his face.
“You're so sexy like this, Bubba Joe.” She leaned in to him. “So strong. So powerful. It makes me crazy when you get like this.”
That at least was the truth. Crazy sick to her stomach.
He smiled as he grabbed her hand, squeezing it until tears filled her eyes. “I'd like to help you out, baby, really I would, but you know I have to go.”
“Later?” She knew the script.
He looked her up, then down, his cruel gaze dismissive of her female assets. “Sure. Later.”
He stepped away from her. “I'll give you a few days to figure out this out, then I'm acting, Suzanne. I'm not waiting for Darius Smith to take me out.”
He wanted to kill Smith, she realized. He was hungry for it. She kept her lashes down, her body submissive. This was when he was most dangerous. Her body curled in against the thought of what he could do when he felt this frustrated and scared and hungry for violence.
“Sure, baby. You know I'll do my best.” She lifted her lashes then, willing them to look at him with longing. His gaze probed hers. It was almost as bad as having his fingers probing her with cruel insolence.
Without warning, he slammed her into the wall, pressing against her with the full length of his body. He ground himself against her as he grabbed her chin and stabbed his tongue down her throat.
She endured it as best she could. She knew this drill, too. She couldn't respond in any way, not in passion or revulsion. Either would set him off. She had to be passive so he could dominate. His hand stroked the side of her neck, and then tightened on her throat until the blood pounded in her head. He didn't say anything, just stared at her with a cold, almost dead gaze. She could feel him teeter on the edge of violence, and thought, he's going to kill me this time, but then he pulled back. His eyes told her it wasn't over yet.
She had one last bit of business to play right. She made herself reach for him with a murmur of distress. He hit her with his open palm, knocking her to the ground.
“Have some pride, Suzanne. You disgust me.”
This was new, and she had to act on instinct. “I can't help it, Bubba Joe. I'm sorry.”
He reached out and grabbed her hair, twisting it until she looked up at him.
“Do you want me, baby?”
She licked her lips. “You know I do.”
“Well, I don't want you. You're old and dried up. You're only good for solving problems. So do what you're good at and I'll let you stay.” With his hand still twisted in her hair, he slammed her head against the wall twice.
She stayed limp, curling in on herself, as his lust for violence sucked up all the available air around them both. It clogged her lungs and slowed her heart to a crawl. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to keep hitting and hitting until some, deep dark place inside himself was satisfied.
“Are you going to do what I want?”
“Yes, Bubba Joe.” She fought to stay conscious, to sound meek and calm.
“Good.” He sounded disappointed.
He wanted her to fight him. So he'd have an excuse to kill her and believe it was her fault. She didn't dare look at him. She didn't know this part.
It seemed to take forever before his hold on her hair eased. Then she was free. She heard him walk across the room. He walked like he was powerful, content to know he'd dominated her.
He's going to kill me
.
Maybe not today, but sometime.
She'd known he hated her, but hadn't realized how much. Would it have made a difference if she'd let her strength show? Or perhaps he sensed her inner rebellion and was reacting to it? Certainly his fear had ripped back the facade of his life, revealing the ugly, heartless core.
He had, she acknowledged painfully, the soul of a serial killer. So far he'd used a third party to do his killing for him, but he was hungry to do it himself. She'd felt his longing too clearly to doubt it. Right now, he still wanted political power more, but just barely. She was alive because he hoped she could clean this up for him, like she always had. If she wanted to survive, it was time to cut Bubba Joe loose and save herself.
If Darius were behind this, then he was her best bet. He had the power to take Bubba Joe down and protect her from his retribution. And if he wouldn't play, well, there was always Dorothy. She'd wanted to know who was behind the killing since it happened.
* * * *
“Dorothy?”
Remy's voice seemed miles away. She had the vague recollection he was in danger and struggled against the hands holding her down.
“I'm coming.” She tried to call, but the words came out a dry rasp of sound.
“Lie still.” He sounded closer now and undeniably grim. “Your head will clear in a moment. And then you'll feel as crappy as I do.”
Her lids felt like lead, but she managed to lift them. Remy knelt by her, his face angry and hard.
“Titus?”
“He's down, too, but all right.”
She sagged back in relief, but then stiffened again. “The book!”
“What book?”
“I think I found something...” It wasn't pressing into her back anymore. She felt the ground around where she fell. “It's gone!”
“I thought you said you hadn't found anything?” Titus sounded shaky, but also hurt.
“I wasn't sure,” she said, avoiding his accusing gaze. “I didn't want to get our hopes up. No chance of that now.” She struggled to a sitting position, despite her unpleasantly spinning head. “How is this happening? Am I bugged or something?”
Remy looked thoughtful. He gazed at Titus, whose body language turned defensive. “I suppose it's possible we're being tracked.”
“I have some debugging equipment. We'll know soon.”
“Until then, I suggest we suspend any further discussion,” Remy said.
Dorothy nodded. Right now she could hardly think, let alone discuss anything. Remy and Titus helped her upright and after a painful period of spinning head, she was able to walk under her own steam. “I wish I hadn't eaten,” she muttered as Remy helped her into his car.
Titus acted like he wanted to object, but Remy just ignored him. “We'll meet you back at Oz.”
“Someone should warn Vonda,” Dorothy said, before he shut the door. She stared at Titus. He nodded and left. She gazed at Remy. “Are you sure your head's clear enough to drive?”
He ignored her as he eased out into traffic. “Did you hear anything?”
Dorothy shook her head. “Not until it was too late.”
“Me either.” He stared ahead, a deep frown cutting moody lines into his face. “This guy is really starting to piss me off.” He braked suddenly. “Let's not wait for Titus and his magic equipment. I know someone here in New Orleans who can help us out. Okay?”
Dorothy nodded. She hadn't looked forward to the drive to Oz, having to watch their words the whole way. And wondering if they were being tracked. But she was still puzzled about one thing. Why had the killer or his confederate only knocked them out? Every other contact had been lethal to the people involved. And maybe that was her answer. The higher the body count, the higher the risk of being caught.
The good news, their efforts were putting pressure on their opposition. The bad news? So far the opposition was winning. That was going to change now, she vowed.
NINE
* * * *
Darius watched Suzanne Henry approach his table. He rose to pull her chair out and then pushed it back in for her. As she sat down, she glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him an intimate smile that was both thanks and an invitation.
He sat opposite her, studying her with mild curiosity. She wasn't bad looking, in a chilly bitch way. He'd fielded some signals from her in the past, but had managed to turn them aside without her realizing she'd been turned down. She probably thought he'd missed his cue. Now here she was, practically clanging like a railway signal. Today, he suspected, she wasn't going to allow him to miss anything.
Normally, he'd have no compunction in squashing her and her expectations like a bug, but Dorothy's return and the memories she'd stirred up had left him unsettled. Unsatisfied. Suzanne was as different from Emma as two women could be, something he considered a positive at the moment. He needed an outlet for his libido, not a pale imitation of Emma. He'd heard that Suzanne liked to play on both sides of the aisle. It made her more interesting than the women who typically hit on him. He also had a feeling that the quickest way to find out why she'd sought him out now, was to give
him
what
she
wanted. He'd let lust off the leash a bit, and she'd get someone to talk to.
She rested her hand on the table, leaning forward to give him some cleavage action. “It's was so kind of you to meet me, Darius.”