Rulers of Deception (20 page)

He puffed on the cigarette again, lowering his eyes as a few flakes of ash fell onto his four-hundred-dollar shoes. Irritated, he knelt down to brush it off. When he rose, Jimmy was standing at the foot of the stairs.

“How’s it goin’, boss?” Jimmy grinned toothily, tipping his matching fedora in greeting. He started up the steps, only to freeze when Wyatt reacted.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Wyatt growled, shooting a worried glance over his shoulder to make sure Madison wasn’t there. The last thing he needed was for her to meet Jimmy. “I told you to leave me alone.”

Jimmy laughed, his hands held up apologetically. “Gotcha. Look, I just came by to apologize for everything, ya know? The past and whatnot. I’d still like to be friends. We go way back.”

Wyatt grimaced as he put out his cigarette. Guilt crept into his gut and festered. “I told you before. I’m not the same man I was.”

“You don’t look different, boss.” Jimmy tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the stone handrail. “At least not from what I can see.”

“I’ve learned there’s more important things in life than a high stakes game of poker.” Wyatt thought of his boat business, of Madison, and sighed. “The past is in the past for a reason. I want it to stay there.”

“Franco ain’t stayin’ in the past, you know that,” Jimmy pointed out. “He’s after us, mostly you, for what we did. He won’t stop till it’s over.”

Images of Madison’s face and the deadly threat written in blood flashed in Wyatt’s mind. Fear turned to anger and hardened his eyes to steel. “He’ll have to go through me first. I’ll protect my family.”

“Best way to save ‘em is to leave ‘em, if you know what I mean,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “They only got targets on their backs ‘cause of you.” When Wyatt said nothing for a few moments, Jimmy pressed on. “Has anything happened yet?”

Wyatt thought of the letter and photographs Grant received of Quinn, and for the first time wondered if they really were connected. “My brother-in-law got some photos of his wife the other day and a threat to go public with a lie. A second letter came in the mail, addressed to me, written in Spanish. It said,
you’re dead
.”

Jimmy paled, looking sick to his stomach. “For real?”

Wyatt nodded. He held his friend’s gaze, his expression impossible to read. “Though, I have to ask myself if Franco would really go to the trouble. Seems to me the person with the most to gain here is you.”

“Me?”

“Did you send those letters to make me think it was the cartel so I would give you more money?”

“You give me more credit than I deserve, boss,” Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t need money from you, anyway. I found a guy with cartel connections who’s protectin’ me. He’s a friend of my cousin so he’s doin’ me a favor. Small world, eh?”

Wyatt wondered if there was any truth to the statement. He knew the man had a long history of telling half-truths. But then again, if he wasn’t after money then what was the motive? “So this
friend
is keeping you safe from Franco’s men?”

“Yep. Got me a nice place to lay low for awhile,” Jimmy replied. He attempted a sad smile. “Look, I really am just here to say sorry, Wyatt. Sorry I stole the coke from Franco that almost got us killed back in Bogotá, and sorry that he’s now out to get the both of us. I feel bad, okay?”

Seeing genuine guilt in Jimmy’s eyes had Wyatt’s anger and distrust cooling. He walked down a few steps and patted his old friend on the shoulder. “All right. Take care of yourself, Jimmy.”

“You too, boss.” Jimmy winked as he stepped back onto the sidewalk. His right hand came up in a casual salute. “Good luck.”

As he turned to leave, he tucked his hands into his pockets again and began to whistle. Wyatt watched him disappear up the street and into the darkness of night.

From the doorway, Madison watched in silence. Fury ate away at her insides, writhing like a deadly viper. Absorbing the truth behind the letters and Wyatt’s lies filled her with an icy need for retribution. He would pay for the lies, and as for the rest…she’d have to sit on the news about the cartel and make her own plans. Protecting her family from Wyatt’s past had now become her top priority.

Without a sound, she retreated back into the house and decided the best relief would be found in the shower. Scalding water, clouds of steam, and a release of her emotional energy was what she needed if she hoped to sleep that night.

Just as she expected, Wyatt followed her in a few moments later. He slid open the shower door, just as eager as she for the distraction, though they each sought it for entirely different reasons. He needed the relief of her presence, and she needed to punish him.

When his bare skin pressed up against her own, she closed her eyes. A dark, wicked smile curved her lips. And as his hands roamed over her hips and the water rained down around them, she felt the painful vengeance consume her.

In a move that was anything but tender, she spun around and pinned him against the cool travertine tiles of the shower. She met his eyes, pleased to see the surprise in them before she kissed him. The act took on a flavor of violence as she bit and raged and mourned. Her nails dug into the skin of his chest until she knew it would draw blood. Damn him for lying. Damn him for it all.

Pushing her back, he stared at her. He thought she looked like some violent goddess of war, hair falling in dark rivulets down her shoulders and breasts, her amber eyes possessed with a fire more potent than Hell itself. Even her mouth was contorted with barely contained fury, hidden under the thin veil of seduction.

He realized almost instantly what she was doing. He’d know revenge sex anywhere; they’d been through it dozens of times in the past. But this time he could only think of one reason she’d be this angry with him. Jimmy.

Knowing he couldn’t admit the truth to her even if she did know, he accepted her wrath like a guilty dog accepts its punishment for tearing apart the house. He kissed her again and let her hurt him, let her release her frustrations. But only for a moment. Then he turned the tables and selfishly took what
he
needed from
her
.

He flipped her around so she was pressed up against the wall, the shock of the cold tiles causing her to gasp. His hands found her hair as he pulled her head back, exposing her neck. With all the tenderness he had within him, he kissed just below her jaw line and ran his tongue over the smooth curve of her throat. He pressed feather-light kisses to her cheeks and her forehead as the water beat mercilessly against his back. Before his mouth found hers, he pulled away just enough to look into her eyes. The anguish he saw only confirmed his fears. She knew. Goddamnit, she knew. Unable to handle it, he kissed her and lifted her hips, driving himself into her.

She cried out, desperate and furious and confused all at once. How in the world was he able to turn the tables on her this way? To twist her anger and abuse it for his own purposes? For his own needs? With her heart splitting and tearing in two, she clung to him as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her nails biting into his back. A low moan escaped her throat as he pressed deeper into her, burying his face into her hair.

“You should,” he murmured, knowing she had every right. He hated himself, too. Having no other words, he kissed her again and opened his heart for her, knowing for now it would have to be enough. Until he could figure out how to save them, to save her, they would need to stick together.

For better or for worse.

Walter wiggled his
eyebrows at Linc as he leaned into the office. “So when’s that Veronica chick gonna come by again?”

Linc looked up from his computer. “In a couple of days. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hey, she’s hot. That’s all I’m saying.” Walter asserted. “Since you’re married that makes me the next available bachelor here.”

Linc remembered the flirtatious way Veronica had acted the first time they’d met, and then how mortified he’d been when discovering Greg was dating her. “She’s taken, buddy. Sorry.”

“So?”

Despite everything, Linc laughed. It was sorely tempting to have Walter ruin things between Greg and Veronica, but even he wasn’t that vindictive. “You just wait till it’s your girlfriend some guy’s trying to steal away. Then you’ll understand why that sucks.”

Walter shrugged. “In all fairness, I spotted Lynette first and you took her away from me. So, technically, I
do
understand.”

Linc rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, cupping his hands behind his head with a cocky grin. “In all fairness, Lynette’s standards run a bit higher than a dweeby college student living in his mom’s basement.”

“I have a bedroom,” Walter muttered defensively, though if he had a tail it’d be between his legs. He stepped into the office and handed Linc a stack of envelopes. “Anyway, here’s the mail.”

“Thanks.” Linc sifted through the letters as Walter left the room. He came across a large one at the bottom with no return address, just like the one Grant had received days earlier. His heart began to race as he tore it open, not even bothering to read the letter. He went straight for the pictures.

The first showed Lynette sitting in the park with Simon, clearly having a picnic. His brows creased as he stared at the image, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned having lunch with her ballet master. The next photograph showed them holding hands, a warm smile on her face. He’d know that look anywhere. It was the look she got when she was immensely pleased by something. Or someone.

The third and final photograph had the breath he’d been holding explode from his lungs. His eyes widened with shock and anger at the sight of Lynette standing with Simon, his face mere inches from hers in a move that was most definitely a kiss. Her hand was on his shoulder in an affectionate gesture, her body curved into his.

His breathing came out in shallow gasps as he looked through the photos again, completely forgetting about the accompanying letter. It wasn’t until he tore into the envelope looking for more that he discovered it. Reading the contents only amplified his temper, until it was like a deadly volcano building momentum inside his chest.

The letter claimed that Lynette had been seeing Simon for months behind his back. It stated Simon’s own marriage was heading for divorce and mocked the irony that the Vasser playboy had married an adulterous whore. The public, it said, would find the news equally as ironic and comical.

Having cold, hard proof of his greatest fear sitting before him blinded Linc to any possibility other than the one he created in his mind. That Lynette had been unfaithful.

Ignoring the little voice in his head that reminded him about Grant and the false accusation about Quinn, he grabbed the photographs and the letter and stormed out of his office. He was convinced this was different somehow. There she was, halfway to a kiss with Simon. How did photographs lie?

The valet brought his car around and he took off into the city, recklessly weaving in and out of hectic midday traffic with no regard for his safety or others. All he could think about was what she would say when she saw the pictures. He deserved a goddamn explanation, though he feared no explanation would be good enough.

When he arrived at the theater, he parked the car illegally in a red zone and ran inside. Rehearsal had just ended, and he glared at the group of people on stage as he strode down the long aisle of chairs. He caught Lynette’s eye as Simon helped her off the stage.

“Linc.” She smiled, though it faded instantly at the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

He threw the photographs at her, seething with barely controlled anger as he avoided looking at Simon. He wanted to see Lynette’s reaction first.

When she only looked confused, he grunted. “Read the letter.”

She did, then paled with horror. “Oh, no. No, Linc, this isn’t true.”

Part of him desperately wanted to believe her, but the images didn’t lie. Without hesitation, he whirled around and punched Simon dead in the nose. The older man staggered backward, clutching his face in shock as blood began to spill down his chin.

Lynette grabbed Linc before he could lunge again, screaming at him. “Stop it! Please!”