Sin on the Run (27 page)

“Wow, that must have made for awkward holidays.”

“Especially since they all lived in the same house. The young woman did everything she could to make everyone forget her humble beginnings.”

“But his mother wouldn't let her?” Exactly what Blake's grandmother would do to Rhonda.

“No, she didn't. My grandmother was a spiteful woman and she did everything she could to remind my mother of where she came from.”

Rhonda's jaw went slack. Was she kidding? She had to be kidding. “Your mother was a gypsy? I don't believe it.” Was this a game to her?

“Yes, I could see why you wouldn't, but it's true.”

“But she goes on and on about family heritage.”

“My father's, not hers. She was so desperate to have her own forgotten that she constantly touted his.”

“I'm confused. People knew who she was. They wouldn't all of a sudden forget where she came from.”

“Oh, it didn't happen overnight. But mother
played
the part of duchess. She never went anywhere without an entourage. And if someone had the temerity to say anything to her or dared bring up her family, she'd put them in their place. She'd remind them of her husband's blue blood and everything his family did for the community and Scotland. She'd shame
them
.

“But nor did she hide. She attended functions, took part in and organized many charitable events, went to church regularly, and made sure to be seen as the Duchess,
not
the young woman ill-suited to be one. She played the part so well that in time people could no longer reconcile the gypsy girl with my mother. If someone mentioned her background, it ended up sounding petty. Don't misunderstand, there are those who still remember, but they wouldn't dare say anything to her face.”

Rhonda now understood. “You're here to tell me people will forget I was a stripper? It's not exactly the same, is it?”

“These are different times. Blake doesn't care about social standing. Parties are no longer important to him and he's always detested royal functions. And I didn't think you'd be the sort of person to care either.”

As cool as it would be to visit the Queen, it wasn't something she cared about. “
I'm
not, but your mother is. Colin maybe, his wife certainly. I don't want to be a bad reflection on them.”

“My mother, I think, needs to take a walk down memory lane. Colin loves his brother but he and Sarah are on the outs. She moved out months ago. They talk, but only by phone.”

That was a surprise. “Colin wised up, did he?”

“I think it was Sarah who initiated the separation. She claims that trying to have a baby with all that's been going on is stressful, and she needed time away to get healthy, so they could try again.”

Rhonda felt bad for Colin, but maybe the time apart would show him he could survive without his wife.

Lady Helen eyed Rhonda's belly with longing. “We
will
survive whatever scandal you believe will befall us.”

Rhonda wasn't so sure and suspected Lady Helen's need for a grandchild was clouding her judgment. “You want to feel?”

“May I?” she said with such enthusiasm Rhonda laughed.

“Sure.”

Lady Helen stood and walked to her, then gently touched Rhonda's stomach just as the baby kicked. Lady Helen gasped and her eyes watered. She was crying? Then without warning, Lady Helen hugged her.

“Thank you. I never realized how important having a grandchild was to me until I found out you were pregnant. My mother's insistence on an heir made me forget what was important. That's part of my son inside you . . . and part of me too. Nothing else matters.”

“You're welcome,” Rhonda said, glad to make the woman happy.

She pulled away, dabbing at pink cheeks and running mascara. “I'm sorry. May I use your toilet to freshen up?”

“Of course. There's one just behind the kitchen to your left.” Then she remembered the disaster she hadn't gotten around to cleaning. “Please ignore the mess. I had rambunctious visitors last night. And the whip wasn't my idea.”

Lady Helen smiled and picked up her purse from the coffee table. “Sounds like fun.”

Then she followed the directions to the bathroom.

Had someone told her Blake's mother would show up today, Rhonda would've asked what they'd been smoking. Had they said she'd try and convince Rhonda to marry her son, she'd have called for a straitjacket. This was too much to process and before she began to even try, the doorbell rang again. She stiffened. Blake's mother knew where she was. Did Blake?

Cautiously, she went to the door, hoping this time she'd find one of the women on the other side. If she'd been shocked before, she was stupefied now. Every instinct told her to slam the door in her face, but couldn't justify being that rude. “Hello, Sarah. What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

No they didn't. And she didn't want to. Had the stupid woman followed her mother-in-law? What kind of crazy was that? She glanced outside for the cab, ready to tell
her Grace
to get her mink-covered ass back in it, but saw only a black sedan. She'd rented a car. Sarah used the opportunity to push past her and into the cabin.

“What is it you want?” She considered leaving the door open, but it was too cold.

“I can ask you the same thing,” Sarah said.

“Me? I have everything I need.”

She made a show of looking around the place. “Does that include, Blake? Pretty view,” she said, glancing out the patio doors.

That wasn't any of her business, but she doubted Sarah would see it that way. “I haven't talked to him in months. Does that satisfy you?”

She didn't bother with a reply. “When he wants something, he doesn't give up easily.” Her snotty smile implied she should know.

The bitch was trying to insinuate their breakup years earlier hadn't been Blake's idea. Did the woman equate the word
stripper
with
born yesterday
? “If you say so,” she replied, refusing to be baited into an argument.

“He and I have that in common.”

Rhonda licked her lips. If she wasn't pregnant . . .

“Did you come all this way to tell me you and Blake have one thing in common?”

“We share more than one commonality,” she argued. “Our families are embedded in Scottish history. Blake can trace his lineage back to the twelfth century, mine to the fourteenth.”

She told herself to take a nice deep breath. Wiping that smug grin off Sarah's face wasn't a good idea, especially with Lady Helen in the bathroom. She'd come out soon and maybe she could deal with her daughter-in-law. “Only the fourteenth?”

“I
won't
allow a common whore to speak down to me,” she spat.

“Then stop talking to yourself,” Rhonda replied with all the calmness she didn't have. “Get to the point, Sarah. Why are you here?”

“You do understand, don't you?” she said, like she was talking to a two-year-old. “If you wait until that little bastard is born, you get nothing, even if it is a boy.”

Rhonda grit her teeth. “Better a bastard than a gold-digging c—” She cut herself off, before it came out of her mouth. She hated
that
word, and even though it fit Sarah, Rhonda wouldn't lower herself to use it. “Get out.”

“Not before I make certain Blake doesn't get it in his head to stain his blood line by marrying you.”

“No, that would've happened if he'd married you.”

Sarah's face reddened and she looked like she was about to blow. It would be comical to watch her explode, but subjecting herself to this woman's bullshit wasn't on Rhonda's to-do list. She intervened before Sarah opened her ugly mouth.

“Blake and I aren't getting married. We're not together. You can still get your skanky little claws on the money. Now leave.”

Sarah's lip curled. “You're calling me a skank? You? How many men have seen you naked?”

“Plenty,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. “But I didn't fuck any of them for their money. Can you say the same?” Sarah was the one with no morals, not Rhonda.

If looks could kill . . . but they didn't have to. Sarah dug a hand into her mink's pocket and pulled out a gun. Instinctively, Rhonda stepped back. She didn't just have a bitch on her hands—she had a crazy one.

A weird calm settled over Rhonda. You'd think she'd be freaking out. But this wasn't just her life being threatened. And while her heart did beat faster, her body knew she had to stay calm, so her brain could figure out how to get the psycho out of the cabin . . . and away from her baby. Nothing else mattered.

“I'll not have a filthy stripper ruin all my plans. Joe promised to get rid of Blake, and if it hadn't been raining, I'd have had a clear shot at him myself. Then you fucked it up. And now you're pregnant,” she all but squealed. “And I don't have Joe anymore.”

Joe
Harris
? What the hell?

“All he had to do was shoot him. Instead they stood there and
chatted
like old chums. Honestly, killing that model was easier.”

Rhonda felt the blood drain from her face.

“What?” Sarah screeched. “The stupid twit had information linking me to Harris. I couldn't let it get out. They'd put it all together,” she argued, as if that justified taking someone's life. “All I wanted was the data stick. Joe claimed she was just another courier. But I had my suspicions. When I confronted her, she admitted to sleeping with him, and the next thing I knew she was dead.

“Then I learned of Blake's involvement and everything fell into place. Joe insisted that killing Blake would draw attention where he didn't want any. All the years we'd been together and he couldn't do me this one simple favor,” she huffed, like she wasn't talking about killing someone. “I was going to broker the diamonds to my usual jeweler, but I let Joe believe Blake had the stones and the flash drive Madison had stolen.”

For the first time, Rhonda noticed the resemblance between Sarah and the super model. Both blonde, both tall and beautiful, the only difference would have been age. But considering how stunning these women were, that could easily be overlooked. It had been Sarah selling the stones, not Madison. Had Joe Harris known that? Given what she'd overheard through the hole in the floor, she doubted it.

Killing the model to cover up a simple affair was a tad extreme. Yes, if Colin left her, she'd never get her hands on the money, but she'd also be arrested for fencing stolen goods.

No one had told Rhonda all the gruesome details, but how Sarah had managed to amputate the woman's legs in a fit of crazy was truly psychotic. If Rhonda had believed Sarah would spare her because she was pregnant, she was beginning to doubt it now. Blake had said her father had taken his own life. Mental disorders could run in families. Obviously they did in this one.

“Have a seat.” Sarah waved the gun toward the couch. “I wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself.” She glanced at her watch.

Living here for months, Rhonda knew the room and tried to think of what she could use to defend herself. Could she make it to the kitchen for an empty wine bottle? Stupid. What good was a broken bottle against a gun? She needed to keep her talking long enough for something to pop. She was too far from the fire poker. “I'll stand, thanks.”

Sarah grinned. “I'm afraid I'll have to insist.” She aimed her gun at Rhonda's belly.

She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her baby. This whack job might get off on it. Given no choice, Rhonda sat. “What are you going to do?” Would she really be evil enough to kill her and her baby?

“I was going to kill you. But then I came up with a better plan. That baby is my salvation. You however, are not. Joe wouldn't help, but his friends will. I traded the diamonds . . . for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Gone was her Zen calm, and in its place, nauseating dread.

“They'll see to it I get your baby.” She sneered, taking a quick peek at her watch for the second time.

Too dumbfounded to reply, the first thing that popped into Rhonda's head was how on earth this crazy bitch had lived with Blake's family all these years and no one noticed Sarah was insane?

“I mean, how hard can it be to fake a pregnancy? And if Colin has any doubts about the paternity, I'll happily consent to a DNA test,” Sarah proclaimed, thinking she was so smart. “Twins' DNA is almost indistinguishable. Any anomalies will be brushed off.”

This was the reason Sarah had separated from Colin. To hide a belly she didn't have. Now she had people coming for Rhonda. “You're crazy.” They'd take her baby . . . then kill her. The baby kicked, making her flinch. Her child was feeling Rhonda's anxiety.

“I am
not
crazy.” Clearly she didn't appreciate being referred to as a nutter. “And neither was my father,” she insisted. “They drove him to it. They ruined him. Joe told me.” Sarah started to rant, her eyes doing a wild, blinking thing. “He came to me after the funeral. He knew my father had papers that would clear him of any wrongdoing. They were going to publicly shame our family.
My family,
whose name could be linked to
three
kings.” A drop of sweat trickled down Sarah's cheek. “Joe found the papers and stopped it. But my father was still dead. They made him take his own life. They gave him no choice.”

What papers was she referring to? If they were linked to Joe Harris, it couldn't be good. She had to keep Sarah talking. If Lady Helen hadn't heard her shouting by now, she was in serious trouble. She prayed the police had been called, and Lady Helen was smart enough to stay out of sight. “They?”