* * * *
Emma didn't breathe easily until she was well clear of Darius's house. Had he always been like that and she hadn't noticed? Had she been too stupid and too hell bent on revenge to realize what kind of man she was playing with? She'd planned to make the same play to him that she'd made to Bozo, but the air of menace that had engulfed her when he entered the room put an end to it. She'd never have gotten out of there alive, of that she was sure. She was also convinced he was somehow involved in the plot against Magus. He'd been too relieved when she told him she'd never known Vance.
Would he leave Dorothy alone? She considered the question and had to conclude he wouldn't. There was some weird vibration she'd picked up every time Dorothy was mentioned. He hadn't a chance in hell of persuading her to back off and they'd both known it. So he was humoring her, but why would he? To keep her quiet? About what? She had no proof of anything. She knew in the deepest part of her gut that Darius was dangerous. He wasn't going to step aside. He liked power, even if it was behind the scenes. He was determined to get it this time.
It was an interesting puzzle. None of the people who seemed to be involved had benefited much from Magus's death at the time? Had they been clever or just unlucky? There was much a candidate could do, but in the end, it still rested in the hands of the voters.
There had to be a way to stop him. Well, she knew a way. Titus would probably be happy to help solve the problem, but she wasn't sure her soul could stand another payment. She'd never betrayed Henry until last night. It was if, with her memory, her old values were returning, too. It sickened her, but at the same time, she didn't know any other way to do this. And in an odd way, she'd felt like she owed it to Titus for using him last time. At least now they were even. He'd used her very thoroughly last night.
As she drove away from Darius’ huge and soulless house, she felt as if he watched her leave. There was something unhealthy about the man, something that reached out with unwholesome tentacles. All those years ago, she realized, she'd set in motion events that were reaching into the present and spinning things out of control.
Somehow, something she did back then had made Darius interested in Dorothy now. Surely it wasn't sexual? He was so much older than her. Maybe he, like Titus, thought she was his daughter? That could be it.
And if his interest in Dorothy was sexual? She shuddered. What have I done? She longed for Henry with a deep, down ache. He'd kept her course true and steady for so many years. She should never have come here without him, but she'd been so afraid of him finding out the whole, awful truth about who she'd really been and what she'd really done.
He'd been so sweet about everything, more than she ever expected, but would he be able to forgive her again? Could he forgive her what she'd done here and now for Dorothy, let alone the things she'd done in the past? How could he, when she couldn't forgive herself?
And then there was Titus. She'd been able to control him last night, but if her husband showed up, she didn't know what he'd do. He was convinced that she loved him then and she still did. Amazing that he hadn't noticed her forced and faked response.
She was grateful to Dorothy for sending him away. He'd have been back in her room tonight for sure, convinced of his welcome.
What is with men anyway?
Not even Magus had been an unforgettable lover, for Pete's sake. She'd had her own reasons she had to go, all ready to present, but would he have believed her? It was as if he was demanding proof of her intentions through her willingness to go to bed with him.
The only time she'd felt worse about something was the night Bubba Joe raped her. It was funny and sad that she didn't remember much from her encounters with Bozo and Darius. She did remember wondering if this was how prostitutes got through it, and clearly remembered hating herself and Magus when it was over.
Titus, well, it was different with him. They'd known each other before, had been friends in high school. She'd been his first, and apparently, his last sexual partner, since his technique hadn't changed at all. She'd thought it sweet at the time. It wasn't anymore. Had he been nurturing the idea that Dorothy was his daughter all these years? She needed to find a way to wean him from Dorothy, though it looked Dorothy had an inkling of how dependent he was on her and was trying to work it out on her own. She just didn't have all the information she needed to do it. And if Emma told her? She'd get tossed out on her ear.
At a stop light, she leaned her head against the cool of the steering wheel.
What a mess you wrought with your tantrums and your needs, Emma.
Perhaps it was time to simply cut through all the cords.
She straightened up and put the car in gear. She would have liked to go home to Henry, but that didn't seem possible now. That old adage about not being able to go home was true on every level in her life right now. It would all take some planning. Then she'd to write to Henry. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. She owed him that.
SIXTEEN
* * * *
Friday dawned, hazy and hot. There was the rally in the afternoon, then the dinner party in the evening, to get through. At breakfast, Dorothy noticed Remy limited himself to coffee, though he did push some eggs around the plate for about ten minutes.
Dorothy couldn't think of anything comforting to say and her stomach felt like it had turned into a trampoline. Anything sent down, would come right back up. She remembered these events with Magus. It had been like stepping into the midst of a storm. The whole purpose of them was to get people pumped up to vote for your candidate and Magus had been a master at turning up the emotional intensity. At the end, she always felt battered and storm-tossed, while he was super-charged.
Today, they'd find out if Remy had the same gift. He knew how to turn it on when he was broadcasting, but as they'd both realized, this was different. This was more real. For one thing, it would be face to face. And it all mattered more to real people. They wanted, no, they needed to believe in someone. And their need was both catalyst and curse, at least where Dorothy was concerned. All that energy passed through her like a hurricane heading for shore, leaving her beached and drained.
They should have planned the dinner party for another day, but the rally had been sprung on them. Was it only about weeding out Remy or were they hoping to tap into some of the Wizard's mystique for themselves? Right now, everyone was the enemy as they took on those deeply entrenched in power. Motives and desires were hidden and constantly shifting in the world of politics. She realized that more now, than she had back then. Of course, back then she'd been so green, the Jolly Green Giant would have looked pale next to her.
She was better prepared this time. In her head, she knew this was true, but her heart wasn't buying it. Back then, she'd been chum to the sharks. Today, well, she was one of the sharks, or at least swimming with them. It didn't make her any happier than being the chum.
She'd dressed for the weather and to impress and reassure, in a linen suit dress in a soft, off-white color. Her sandals were comfortable wisps of leather with just enough heel on them to be a tad sexy. She knew she looked cool and crisp and calm. She'd become a good actress. Today should earn her a freaking Oscar.
“Nervous?” Remy asked, breaking the silence.
He looked dreamy in his lightweight suit and crisp, white shirt. The navy bumped up the brown in his eyes and made them, somehow, more sincere. The amazing part,
he
wasn't acting. This was who he was and that was why the party elders were so afraid of him. They didn't know how to deal with an honest man.
“A little,” she admitted. “But I'll be all right. I bluff
good
.” Her smile scraped across teeth turned dry with apprehension.
“I've seen you in action,” Remy agreed, with a wry grin. He held out his arm with the elbow crooked. “Shall we go?”
Dorothy took a deep breath and nodded. “Let's do this.”
Kate met them at the door, her smile wide, but just a bit sad. “I wish I were coming, but I think I'll be more use here, helping to get things ready.” She gave Dorothy a hug, then Remy, too. He looked surprised and a bit touched. “Do I wish you good luck or broken legs?”
Remy grinned. “I have no idea, but I'll accept both, just to be on the safe side.”
“You got it, then.” Kate stepped back. “Good-bye.”
Dorothy climbed in their limo and then Remy slid in beside her. As they pulled away, Kate waved again.
Dorothy frowned, looking back. “That good-bye felt awfully final, didn't it?”
Remy looked surprised. “Why would it?”
“I don't know.” Dorothy settled back, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. “No reason, I guess.” Stress made it easy to feel paranoid and to read things that weren't there, she supposed.
Remy took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We're going to be awesome.” His grin invited her to share the small joke with him.
She laughed. “Awesome.
Right
. You're not going to use that word in your speech, are you?”
He grinned, but refused to answer. This was either going to be awesome, or a disaster of epic proportions, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be boring.
* * * *
Darius arrived at the rally venue early. He had much to do before the arrival of the various candidates who would be speaking. He'd arranged for his protege to be early on the schedule. He didn't want what happened later to keep his boy from speaking. The other thing he needed to arrange was for Dorothy to be seated at the very edge of the stand. That took some persuading. The party elders wanted her front and center, to help mitigate any sense that she was only there for Remy Mistral.
“If you marginalize her,” Darius told them, “you'll be able to control her better. If you give her any more prominence, it will only encourage them both.”
After some thought, they agreed with him. Satisfied with his arrangements, he stood on the platform and glanced around, wondering which vantage point his hired shooter would choose. Security would be loose at the event. No one expected that much interest at this point in the campaign. Mistral was doing well in the polls, but he wasn't pulling ahead, though they all expected him to once he and Dorothy went public. At this point, any misstep could still change the equation. They were all hoping he'd mess up, of course.
Later, when the field narrowed, then security would become more of a concern. It was one reason he'd decided to act now, rather than wait for things to settle down after the various deaths. And he didn't trust Emma. She'd played the slut in his living room, but he wasn't a complete fool. She hadn't stopped by for old times’ sake. She'd come with an agenda. He didn't know what it was or if she'd given up on it. Or had she merely postponed it?
Her comments were designed to provoke him. Was she hoping emotion would cloud his thinking? She didn't know him then—if she ever had. He could believe she'd slept around back then, but not for the reasons she'd presented. When she came to him that night, he'd sensed a woman hungry for warmth and caring, not someone out for revenge. He might have been a fool to think it meant more than it did, but reading emotions, then using them against opponents, was his stock in trade.
For instance, he had no illusions about how Dorothy felt about him. He was also aware she felt strongly for Mistral. It would be both her strength and her weakness today. He also knew that emotions could change, either by choice or by force.
Today's play was risky, probably his riskiest play to date, but he'd calculated those risks and found them within the acceptable limits for a successful outcome. He'd laid his plans carefully. The odds were in his favor that by the noon today, Mistral would be dead and Dorothy under his control.
He frowned into the distance. Would Emma be present today? It was hard to decide. He couldn't tell what she cared about, her daughter or her daughter's money. It was likely that Emma would suspect he was behind today's events, but he had a contingency plan for that, too. If she couldn't be persuaded to exit the field of battle, well, women disappeared all the time.
* * * *
The band was playing, the crowd clapping. Dorothy felt a bit of a sore thumb on the end of the row of chairs. She was so close to the edge, a misstep would tumble her down the stairs. Remy's lips had tightened when he saw where she was sitting, but after exchanging a quick look with her, he'd said nothing. In some ways, Dorothy didn't mind. It wasn't as tiring to be at the edge of the crowd as it was to be in the center of it. Prior to the start of the rally, they'd made a circuit through the crowds. It both touched, and intimidated, that so many people remembered Magus. The burden of carrying his banner for him weighed heavy on her shoulders when she faced with the people he'd hoped to represent.
She'd been angry at him, she realized, since she found out he threw her mother out when she was pregnant. Face to face with all these people, she was reminded once again that no one was all good or all bad.
If I were to be judged on a single act
, she thought wryly,
how would I fare?
She'd planned to make Remy a clay pigeon and for what? So that she could be free of this legacy Magus left her? Oh, she'd talked a good talk about justice, but the truth was, she just wanted to go hide somewhere. As she scanned the faces, turned up toward the stand, she wondered if she had the right. There were public and private responsibilities and sometimes they conflicted. And when that happened, what was the right choice?
She stole a glance a Remy. If he asked her to stay on with him, would that make a difference? It wasn't quite as hard to do all this when she had his support and understanding. Magus had been fairly ruthless where she was concerned. It was sink or swim, baby. Not feeling good, well, get over it. Was that how he'd treated her mother? If he had, she could understand, even if she didn't approve what she'd done back then, that had led to the issues presently complicating Dorothy's life.