Wicked Obsessions (14 page)

"It's all true, darlin', and I'll tell you all about it if you really want me to. The way I've been thinking about you, it's probably better if you find out now rather than later. But first, I want to let you off the hook. I don't need your disgust or your pity. After you hear all the gruesome details, you are free to avoid me at all costs, and that includes canceling our agreement about the studio."

"All right. No disgust, no pity, no moralizing of any kind. Spill."

Again he tried to free his hands, but she refused to break contact.

"Okay. Remember, you asked for this." It took him another few seconds before he began. "I was an air traffic controller. You've probably heard about the kind of stress that goes with that career. I might have handled it fine if my marriage hadn't been such a strain. I told you how my wife was. She never made a single decision on her own. I even had to go grocery shopping with her, or do it myself, because she didn't know which bathroom cleanser I preferred." Remembered frustration showed clearly on his face.

"After the kids were born, it only got crazier. She'd leave messages at the tower half a dozen times a day, insisting it was an emergency. Usually it was for something as stupid as whether I wanted steak or pork chops for dinner. But it was about the kids too. She had no idea how to handle the smallest, normal thing, like a skinned knee. All that time I kept telling myself, if I just help her get through this stage or that, she'll be standing on her own two feet in no time."

Teri squeezed his hands. "You aren't the first person who thought like that. I know. I've been bailing Rico out for a year, and every damn time, he promised it was the last. I never really believed him, but I wanted to so much, I kept giving him another chance."

He tried to smile, but it wasn't convincing. "Sounds like we're quite a pair. Anyway, at first I eased the stress with a drink after work, and then a few more. Before long, I started bringing hundred-proof cocktails to work in my thermos. The problem was, the alcohol made me too drowsy to stay as alert as the job required."

Teri squeezed his hands a little harder this time. "But it didn't stop there?"

He met her concerned expression with one of self-disgust. "Right. When a co-worker introduced me to cocaine, I fell in love with the drug. It was perfect. I was relaxed but alert. I could handle the job, my helpless wife, two growing kids. All I needed was a little snort now and then. The only problem was the expense."

He made a move to rise and she let him slip his hands from hers. He walked over to the picture window and stared out, but she knew that he was seeing his own nightmares.

"Pretty soon I had to find a few customers of my own to support the habit. I didn't know it at the time, but I'd turned into Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Brenda and the kids were terrified of me. I still don't remember doing half the things she said I did during that time. I doubt if the kids'll ever forgive me."

"Haven't you talked to them?"

Drew shook his head, but he kept his back to her. "Not since the arrest... about a year ago. I haven't had the nerve."

Teri determined to discuss his negligence further at a later date. "Why were you arrested?"

He turned then, and she watched him physically prepare to withstand the disgust he expected her to respond with. "The arrest was for possession, enough to make it a felony. But what happened before the arrest was the greater crime." He paused and gathered the confidence to tell her the rest. "I'd been using for about a year. Never too much at one time, mind you. I always believed I had it under control. Of course, that's what all addicts tell themselves on the way downhill."

She got up and walked over to him. With the briefest touch on his cheek, she let him know he could tell her the rest, but only if he wanted to.

As if he was afraid of what his hands might do, he shoved them into his front pockets and again looked out beyond the window. "I froze one day. On the job. I was looking at my screen, talking to two separate pilots on my headset, and I panicked. I saw blips that weren't there and couldn't find the planes I knew
were."
He paused, and she touched his back, but he moved away from her and crossed back to the couch as he continued.

"There's no room for panic or hesitation in that job. If it hadn't been for the guy next to me knocking me out of my chair and taking over, I'd have killed everyone on those two planes. See, I was bringing both pilots in on the same runway, at the same time, from two different directions. They wouldn't have been able to avoid the collision I was setting up without realizing it."

"Oh God, Drew, how awful. I can understand why you don't like to talk about it. But you mustn't let it keep eating away at you. No one was actually hurt, were they?"

He slumped down onto the couch as if the weight of his confession was more than he could bear. She sat beside him.

"If you mean did the planes get down safely, then yeah, no one was actually hurt. Unfortunately, this little tale gets worse. I was so out of the real world, I got up from the floor and tried to beat the hell out of the guy who had saved all those people. They had to call Security to restrain me and get me out of the tower. Cocky bastard that I was, I had my stash right in my pants pocket. I was lucky they only got me for possession. They could have caught me selling the stuff."

When he paused, she reached for his hand once more, and he gave in to her. "The judge accepted my attorney's defense that I was in a high-pressure job. He had me committed to six months in a state institution—more kindly referred to as a rehabilitation clinic—under psychiatric care. Ann was the only one in the family who seemed to believe I could straighten myself out. She's the one who suggested I come to New York when I got out."

Teri didn't know what to say. She had promised she wouldn't pity him, but she felt sad nonetheless. And she could tell by the way he looked and talked that he hadn't yet forgiven himself for falling apart. "Are you completely sober now?"

"Yes, I stopped using the day I was arrested and haven't touched anything since. Not even alcohol."

"Cold turkey? That had to have been hard."

"I didn't deserve the easy route."

"Do you have any desire to use cocaine or alcohol again?"

"No." His response was adamant.

She released his hand and went for another hug.

A second later his arms were tightly wrapped around her as well. "No disgust?" he asked uncertainly.

She leaned back to let him see she was sincere. "No disgust, but I can't say the same about pity. Not for you. You're a grown-up man. Eventually, you'll adjust. But I feel sorry for those two kids who've been deprived of their father."

"I can't make it up to them."

"Yes, you can. When it's time, you will. And you're not getting out of our agreement. I'm counting on those rent payments you promised." She paused and softened her voice. "And I'm also counting on having you around for a while to give me a hug when I need it."

He briefly touched his lips to hers. "You're incredible," he said, his gaze fixed on her mouth. When he drew close again, Teri met him halfway. This kiss was shared, a preliminary exploring by both of them, a mutual, unexpected discovery of underlying heat too long held back.

The appreciative kiss suddenly became open-mouthed and hungry. Teri held nothing back from him, nor did he from her, yet it wasn't enough.

And it was much too much.

She broke away, panting more from the effort that decision required than her unsatisfied desire. "I'm so sorry, Drew. I didn't mean for that—"

"No,
I'm
sorry. I should have known better."

"It's not that I don't—"

"I know." He held her tightly one more time then eased her away. "But the timin' stinks."

Teri smiled crookedly, realizing how his drawl returned once he relaxed. She was grateful for his understanding, in spite of his own emotional turmoil. "Can I have a raincheck?"

He stood up and took her hand to draw her up as well. "Darlin', you can have a whole passel of rainchecks. I'd just feel a lot better if you'd wait to cash 'em in until you're sure about why you want 'em."

* * *

Detective Kidder was prepared for a long night ahead. It had been years since he'd done a stakeout in his car. Instead of taking a city vehicle tonight, he used his own nondescript gray compact. He parked on the street across from the Gambini house, where he blended in with a line of other cars like his.

He was eager to get into the station tomorrow. He had intended to check Marshall out, but he had had nothing to go on before. He now had Marshall's Texas license plate number and knew he had been a civil servant in Fort Worth. He hadn't needed to insist on any more answers from the man. Tomorrow the computer would cough up every detail of Marshall's life. He wondered if he'd so easily disprove their claim of having met only two weeks ago.

In the meantime, any number of things could happen before tomorrow. One, Marshall could stay all night, which would confirm the theory that they were lovers. Two, one of them could take off because of something he'd said, in which case he intended to tail him... or her. If luck was with him, that person would head straight to wherever Rico Gambini's body was hidden, to make certain no incriminating clues had been overlooked. And three, and most preferable to Kidder personally, was a combination of the first two.

He was only slightly disappointed when the front door of the house opened and Marshall stepped out barely an hour after Kidder had left them alone. No one had rushed out to check on the body, nor would there be any slumber party. He raised his binoculars to observe the farewell.

Mrs. Gambini remained framed in the doorway with the light behind her. She touched Marshall's cheek, reassuring him of something. The cowboy turned to leave, then spun back around and pulled her into his arms. The kiss was brief, but loaded with dynamite.

And Detective William F. Kidder now held the detonator that would blow it sky-high.

* * *

The ringing telephone woke Teri from the first sound sleep she'd had in weeks. She almost ignored it.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Gambini? This is Detective Kidder. I think we found your husband."

Chapter 9

"This is Drew Marshall. Please leave your name, number and a brief message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Damn!" Teri replaced the telephone receiver with a shaky hand. Where was he? Why hadn't he called back yet?

Shame on you, Teri Carmichael,
she scolded herself. It had only been five minutes since she'd left him a message but logic had gone out the window with the detective's words. It wasn't very brave, but she didn't want to do this alone, and, even though he was the newest person in her life, he was the only person she wanted with her.

Between Rico's demands and her work, she hadn't formed any relationships she could call close—except perhaps with Selena, but even that odd friendship had developed because of her work. She had no relatives that she wanted to involve. Her grandmother was still alive, but in a nursing home in Camden, New Jersey, barely able to feed herself, let alone give Teri any support. Rico's family had never approved of her to begin with, and when, after a few years, no grandchildren were born, they stopped talking to her completely. She would screw up her courage to deal with them after she'd made the funeral arrangements.

Asking for a neighbor's assistance was also out of the question. She got along with all of them, but everyone, herself included, always seemed too busy to form any strong friendships.

She had met Drew only weeks ago, and yet she felt more of a bond with him than she did with any of the others—including Rico.

The passion that had sparked between her and Drew last night had been smoldering since the moment they'd met. She had sensed it and had been determined to ignore it.
Foolish woman.

If the first kiss had been a test, and the second discovery, the third had been a promise of things to come. She had gone to bed with his taste on her lips and the need for more of him humming through her body.

Stop thinking about it,
she commanded. Her husband's body was in the morgue, awaiting her identification. A good wife would be overcome with grief upon learning of her husband's murder.