Words of Seduction (14 page)

W
allace bobbed his head in tune to the beat of his favorite song, which blared from his radio, as he drove to his meeting with Rick. At last Gordon was going to pay up. He knew he would eventually. The dirt he had on him was too good. He parked in the driveway, checked his image in the rearview mirror and straightened his jacket before running up the steps and ringing the doorbell.

He plastered on a smile when the door opened, but his smile disappeared when he saw Suzanne.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“This is where I live.”

He quickly recovered himself. “I’m here to see Gordon—uh, Rick.”

“But you’re not going to. You’re going to see me.” She opened the door wider. “Come in.”

He hesitated. “What game are you playing?”

“The same game you are.”

He narrowed his gaze. “How much do you know?”

“Enough to be interested, but I’m not having this conversation in the doorway.” When she saw his nervous look, she said, “No one else is here except us.”

Wallace entered and followed Suzanne into the living room. She sat and crossed her legs. “So this information you have. How much is it worth?”

“Why?”

“I might take you up on your offer of a book collaboration. You could have royalties coming in for years.”

“It has to do with your husband.”

“I don’t care.”

“And you.”

She shrugged with nonchalance. “Even better. You know I always put my own spin on things.”

Wallace leaned back, amazed. “So you
did
marry him for his money.”

“What other reason could there be?”

“You’re right. He’s just a bastard Gordon. But he’s fallen for you hard. You wouldn’t believe how much he was willing to pay me.”

“I can imagine. Blackmail can be lucrative.”

He tugged on his collar, uncomfortable with the word. “I wouldn’t call it blackmail.”

“Why not? You’ve done it before. Everyone thinks I left you because of the women, but we both know the real reason.”

“You shouldn’t have left. My office was like a well-oiled machine when you were in charge. I got the clients and you kept them happy. We were a good team.”

“We could be again.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“New York softened some of my high ideals. So tell me what you know.”

Wallace opened his mouth then stopped. “It won’t be worth as much if I tell you. I’ll have nothing over Gordon anymore. Sorry, honey. You’re not getting me that cheap.”

“That’s okay. Getting you on tape is enough for me.”

He paused. “What?”

“You heard me. I wonder what the police will think when I hand it over to them.”

“You wouldn’t.” He sneered. “You didn’t have guts enough then and you’re bluffing now.”

“Are you willing to risk it?”

Wallace began to smile. “You do love him. That’s what this is all about.” He shook his head in sympathy. “And you’re just part of his game plan. He’s using you.”

“I thought you said he cared enough to spend—”

“I was lying to you. He’s willing to pay because he doesn’t want you leaving with half. But we can both end up winners in the end. You give me the tape and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Fine.” She removed her secret recorder. “Talk first.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then you won’t get the tape.”

He stood and walked over to her seat. “Oh, you’ll give me the tape, Suzanne, whether you want to or not.” He loomed over her and held out his hand.

She swallowed. “How do I know if I can trust you?”

“That’s not my problem.” He wiggled his fingers. “Don’t taunt me, Suzanne. You know what happens when you do.” He touched a faded scar under her jaw.

She turned her face away, disgusted by his touch. “I won’t—”

His hand shot out and fastened itself around her neck. “Yes, you will.” He forced her to her feet. “You didn’t plan this very well, but you, like most people, underestimated me. Here you are all alone and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Tears of pain stung her eyes and she fought to breathe through his tight hold. “If you leave a mark, Rick will know.”

He squeezed tighter. “Rick doesn’t care. I want the tape.”

The look in her ex-husband’s eyes chilled her. Wallace was ruthless and he’d demonstrated it many times in their marriage. And although she didn’t want to believe his words about Rick, there was a faint kernel of truth. If Rick had cared about her, he would have told her about being blackmailed. But he’d preferred to pay to keep his secrets than trust her. However, she couldn’t let Wallace win. She had started this game and she would finish it, no matter the price. She spat in his face.

He swore, but he didn’t release his hold. “For that you’re going to owe me a lot more than a tape.” He brought his mouth down on hers with cruel possession. She struggled against him and bit his lip.

Wallace released her, reeling back in pain. Suzanne backed away, creating distance between them.

He laughed at her effort as he dabbed the blood on his lip. “You can’t escape me, Suzanne. I know things and I know that Gordon—” He stopped with a sharp jerk then collapsed to the floor.

Suzanne stared at his fallen form in disbelief. When she looked up she saw Frieda with a tire iron in her hand.

“Are you all right?” Frieda said in a shaky tone.

“Yes.” Suzanne’s gaze fell on Wallace’s still form and she saw blood seeping from his head. She broke through her paralysis and raced over to him. She dropped to her knees and frantically checked for a pulse.

“I saw his car,” Frieda said, “so I came in around the back. I took Luke upstairs then came down to check on you and I couldn’t believe what I saw. I knew I had to help you.”

Suzanne snatched her hand back from Wallace’s neck. “Frieda—”

“I put Luke upstairs,” Frieda repeated, “so he’s safe.”

Suzanne slowly stood, wringing her hands. “Frieda.”

“And now you’re safe. I made sure.”

“Frieda, he’s dead.”

Frieda dropped the tire iron and it clattered to the floor. She vigorously shook her head. “He can’t be.”

“He is.”

“Oh, God.”

Suzanne covered her mouth and stared at Wallace’s body, not knowing what else to say.

Frieda spun to look out the window when she heard a car drive up. Headlights briefly flashed into the room. “Rick’s home.” Frieda rushed over to the body. “Help me hide him.”

Suzanne blocked her. “We don’t have time.” She shook her head, annoyed by her irrational reply. “I mean we shouldn’t.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

They heard footsteps on the porch then keys in the lock. “We have to call the police,” Suzanne said.

Frieda’s voice rose with panic. “They’ll put me away.”

“We’ll say it was self-defense.”

The two women froze with fear when they heard Rick in the hallway.

“Suzanne,” he called out to her. “That had better not be Lyon’s car outside.” He came into the living room and halted at the sight before him. He didn’t say anything, but his dark penetrating glance darted between the two women, asking questions they were both afraid to answer.

After a long tense moment, Suzanne took a step toward him and said, “I can explain.”

He folded his arms. “Then start talking—fast.”

She told him about how he’d left his cell phone behind and how she’d tricked Wallace with a text message. She told him about her attempts to deceive Wallace into telling her the information he was using to blackmail Rick. Then she told him about the tape and the struggle.

“That’s when I came in,” Frieda said. “He was hurting her and I had to stop him.”

Rick held his forehead. “With a tire iron?”

Frieda ran up to him and grabbed the front of his shirt her eyes filled with misery. “I had to do it,” she said in a low voice only he could hear. “He was trying to destroy our family. He was going to tell her the truth about everything and I couldn’t let him.”

He tenderly covered the hands grasping his shirt. “Momma, do you know what you’ve done?”

“We have to call the police,” Suzanne said.

“Not until we get our stories straight.”

“Our stories are straight. It was self-defense.”

“A good prosecutor can argue that it was murder. He was blackmailing us. That’s a good reason to kill him.”

“I’ll just explain—”

Rick shook his head, disregarding her words. “Stop being naive. This is Anadale and a lousy ‘Gordon’ just killed one of the town’s important ‘Lyons.’ Don’t forget what happened to Melba. Part of her sentence was because she was born on the wrong side of the tracks and tried to marry up. That’s not done.”

“That’s only part of the reason. She shot—”

“A Lowell,” Rick finished. “And she paid for it. Do you think that if she were some rich woman from the right family that she’d have gotten the same conviction? The prosecution won because of a smear campaign and character assassination from key people. It hadn’t mattered that that bastard Lowell had beaten her for years and everyone knew it, but no one said anything.

“It’s no different now. Everyone knows what Lyon is like, but the moment he becomes a victim, my mother’s life doesn’t mean anything. It’s Us against Them.”

“It’s different now. You’re rich and with the right lawyers—”

“It won’t change anything. The law doesn’t work for us! We’re Gordons. Do you know how long they put my brother away for? Eighteen years. He stole a TV and computer from a house and got eighteen years. He didn’t even use a weapon. Do you think that’s fair?”

“No, but it was his second offense and—”

He raised his brows, amazed. “So that makes it right?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that the law—”

“That’s right,” Rick said in a satirical tone. “You know a lot about the law. You know how this justice system works. Your father was part of it.”

Suzanne met his cold gaze and let herself finally speak the truth. “And you hated him.”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what did you do about it?”

“I—”

“Rick, don’t,” Frieda cried. “Please. Think about it. The moment she knows she’ll leave us.”

Rick kept his gaze on Suzanne. “She’ll leave us anyway.”

“No, she won’t.” Frieda turned to Suzanne and for a moment her liquid eyes reminded her of Luke’s. “You won’t, will you?”

“No,” she told the older woman whom she’d grown to love as a mother. She raised her gaze to Rick’s. “Not unless you want me to.”

“You might change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”

Frieda clasped her hands together as though in prayer. “Rick—”

“Quiet, Momma, she needs to hear this.” He tapped his chest. “I’m the reason your father lost everything. His company was on shaky ground and I went in for the kill and left him with nothing. I wanted to get revenge for all the injustices he’d done and the ones I thought he’d done. And you were part of that plan, too. I was going to make you a Gordon and in the process erase the Rand name from Anadale history. And I was going to keep you in the dark as to the man you’d really married until Wallace told me that he knew what I’d
done to your father. I was willing to pay whatever I needed to, so that you’d never find out.”

“Because you were afraid I’d leave and take your money?”

“No,” he said, but didn’t offer more.

“But that’s all changed now,” Frieda said, eager to set things right. “We’re different. We love you now. Don’t we Rick?”

Suzanne turned to Rick, unable to breathe.

He didn’t meet her gaze and made a motion of exasperation. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is this damn body in our living room.”

Her heart slowly cracked. “I have a solution,” Suzanne said in a cool, quiet voice. She walked over and picked up the tire iron. “I’ll call the police and tell them that I did it. And if I’m convicted of murder I’ll be put away for life and your revenge against the Rands will be complete.” She held Rick’s gaze. “Then you don’t have to worry about me divorcing you and taking your money and your mother will be safe. That’s what matters, right?”

Rigid silence met her words. Frieda rushed over to her. “No, honey that’s not what we want. I didn’t plan it to be this way. I was protecting you, I swear. We’re a family now and family takes care of each other and I was taking care of you. Tell her, Rick. Tell her that what she thinks about us is wrong.”

“We can all run,” Rick said.

Suzanne nodded. “You two can run and I’ll stay here and take the blame.” She reached for the phone.

He ripped it from her grasp. “Stop being an idiot.”

“What do you care what I do?” she snapped. “What
I’ve done hasn’t mattered before. Why should it now?” She gestured to the door. “Go. Run. Protect your mother and your name. I’m not leaving.”

“She’s right, Rick,” Frieda said, resigned. “We can’t run. We have to face up to this, at least I do. I’ll tell them the truth. It’s the right thing to do.”

“You can’t,” he said with anguish. “They’ll convict you.”

“You don’t know that,” Suzanne said. “We’ll hire the best attorneys and if this does go to trial we’ll make sure it’s set in another town. The law can work.”

“We can get through this,” Frieda added. She headed for the front door. “I need a smoke.”

Rick watched his mother go, and then he hung his head and sighed. He stared at the phone and reluctantly held it out. “Call the police.”

T
he police promptly arrived and questioned them all. Suzanne, Rick and Frieda were put in separate rooms and gave their versions of events while the living room was corded off, photographed and studied as the potential crime scene it had become. Finally, Wallace’s body was taken away and the police left. No charges were filed that night, but the detective in charge made it clear that he’d be talking to the trio again.

Later that evening, Rick sat in his study, nursing a glass of bourbon, trying to figure out how everything could have gone so wrong. For the first time in a long while he craved a cigarette, but then he thought about Luke and knew he’d never start that habit again.

Suzanne knocked on the door and entered, taking a
seat in front of him. “After some struggle, I finally got your mother to sleep.”

Rick finished off his drink then set it down on the desk. “Good.”

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

“So did I.” He opened the bottom drawer of his desk where he hid his bourbon. “I’ll move my things out of the room tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Rick looked at her, surprised by the question. “You really have to ask me that? I destroyed your father and my mother just killed your ex-husband.” He rested the bottle on his desk. “You’re better off without us.”

Suzanne leaned forward with dismay. “But you’re all I have. You, Frieda and Luke are my family.”

“No, we’re not.” He twisted the top of the bottle in an angry motion. “There are plenty of other Rands, your aunt for example. And you have your mother’s family.”

“I thought I was a Gordon. Or is that only when it’s convenient to you?”

Rick poured himself another drink.

Suzanne reached out and picked up his glass. She swallowed its contents then defiantly set the glass down with a thud. “I’m stronger than you think.” She slid the glass toward him. “And I can drink you under the table. It was a talent I learned while Wallace was out with other women.”

“Are you offering me a challenge?”

“I’d rather go to bed.”

“You should go.”

“Not without you.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go to bed. We need the rest.”

Rick looked at her hand then her face. “No.” He lifted the glass and held it against his forehead, his voice weary. “I’m a bastard.”

“Yes, you are a bastard,” she agreed, surprising him. “You stole my heart and I didn’t even care.”

He set the glass down and sniffed. “So you think that you love me?”

“I know I do.”

“How much?”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned back and watched her through half-closed eyes. “Unlike men, I know that women love in degrees—that they can burn hot and cold in an instant.”

She leaned on the desk. “While some men hardly love at all.”

“We’re just more careful who we give our hearts to.”

“Because you’re scared.”

He straightened. “Because we’re more constant.” He stood. “If I’d come back poor would you still love me?”

Misery fell on Suzanne like a steel weight as she looked at the defiance in his gaze. “You destroyed my father, watched him sell all the things I treasured, bought my house and tricked me into marriage for your revenge and you question how much I love you?” She pushed herself from the desk with fury. “You’re a bigger bastard than I thought and any love that I have for you is wasted.” She spun away and swung open the door.

He ran up to her and seized her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. When she wouldn’t look at him, he lifted her chin. “Really.” He sighed. “I just can’t believe that you could forgive me. That you could love me, that you’ve ever loved me.
Women were always telling me that they loved me, but it wasn’t true. But you…” He turned her around and stared at her with wonder. “I know I’m a bastard and I come from a long line of bastards and I don’t deserve you, but I don’t care.” He took her mouth with savage intensity—his kiss unlike any before. It wasn’t tender, it wasn’t wild, it was possessive, demanding, eager. “I want you more than my next breath,” he said.

“Then take me,” she whispered back.

He ripped her clothes from her shoulders, ignoring the sound of tearing cloth, and in seconds she was naked and nothing else mattered except the magnificent man holding her in his arms. This time when he touched her, her body didn’t tingle, it burned. He removed his own clothes and they fell to the floor, his mouth exploring her thighs then moving up. His wet tongue made entry and filled her with ecstasy. She soon returned the favor taking him into her mouth and teasing him with her tongue, his tormented groan a heady delight.

“You’d better stop,” he said through clenched teeth, “or I’m going to come in your mouth.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said and quickly changed their positions. Then he entered her and they both felt an explosive release that made them tremble. Suzanne cried out and Rick moaned and nothing else needed to be said as they took pleasure in each other. At last they collapsed, exhausted but exhilarated.

Rick rested on his side and outlined the tip of her breast. “Don’t say you love me, just say you need me.”

“No,” she said, cupping the side of his face. “I love
you and I can’t help it.” She let her hand fall to his shoulder and cascade down his back until she felt one of his scars. “And I wish I had a magic wand and could make all your scars disappear.”

“With you I forget that I have them, there’s a special magic to that.” He dropped a kiss on her nipple and whispered against her chest, “I’m no Robin Hood. Whatever I steal is mine.” His eyes met hers. “And I won’t let it go.” His lips covered hers, slow and thoughtful.

And as he held her in his arms, tears of joy sprung to her eyes.

He drew away and rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “I can’t believe this is happening again. Another murder in Anadale.”

“The most they can charge your mother with is manslaughter,” Suzanne said with confidence.

Rick shook his head. “No. They’ll indict her and charge her with murder because of who she is. I saw how the detectives looked at her and me. It’s like the past all over again. Nothing’s changed.”

“Yes, it has,” Suzanne said, brushing her lips against his. “This time we’re in it together.”

Rick’s words proved prophetic. Three weeks later as autumn slipped into winter, Frieda Gordon was indicted for first degree murder. The news put Anadale on the map and reporters swarmed the small town to follow the sensational story. Headlines such as Millionaire’s Mother Charged with Murder and Bestselling Novelist’s Mother-in-law Stands Accused were splashed across the front pages of newspapers both
online and off, while TV reporters and cameras followed Rick’s, Frieda’s and Suzanne’s every move. Claudia and Noreen offered their support through marathon phone call sessions and gift baskets to help Suzanne through this trying time. Suzanne’s fans also came to her aid by sending hundreds of letters and e-mails telling her how much she meant to them. But all their efforts at comfort couldn’t help the inevitable backlash.

Soon Suzanne and Rick were forced to take Luke out of school because kids relentlessly teased him about his grandmother going to jail and some parents didn’t want their children associating with him. Mrs. Perigene found the stress of the situation too much and resigned. To protect Luke, Rick and Suzanne enrolled him in a private boarding school out of town.

In town, battle lines were drawn straight down socio-economic lines—the haves and the have-nots—and Rick and Suzanne were caught in the middle. They stayed home as much as possible and 468 Trellis Court became a prison instead of a haven. Even after the police had allowed them to clear up the crime scene, nobody stepped into the living room again. Suzanne didn’t think the situation could get any worse until she woke up one day and discovered that Frieda was gone. She hadn’t slept in her bed and had left a note telling them that they were better off without her. Suzanne quickly called Rick and he came home immediately. When he looked over the note, he swore.

“We can’t call the police,” Suzanne said as they sat in the kitchen wondering what they should do next.

Rick held his head. “That woman’s going to drive me crazy.”

“I don’t think she’s gone far. She just seemed to want to get away. Do you know of any place she might go to escape?”

He lifted his head. “If she ever wanted to escape she just picked up a whiskey bottle.”

Suzanne frowned. “This is serious.”

“I’m being serious. She’d drink and talk about…” He let out a fierce sigh. “I think I know where she is.” He jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Moments later Rick drove up to his old house, which looked abandoned and sad like a beat-up dog. The shingles on the roof were curling while the roof itself sunk forward toward the unkempt yard. Rick turned off his engine and stared at the structure. It was a house of anger and fear. A place where he and his brother would hide in the closets when his father got in one of his moods. A place where he’d have to sleep in layers of clothes in the winter and suffocate in the sweltering heat during the summer. He remembered being hungry, but mostly he remembered his father’s fists. He briefly shut his eyes.

“Do you want me to go in?” Suzanne said gently.

Rick opened his eyes. “No, I’m okay.” He took a deep breath then got out of the car and headed toward the house. When he opened the door he fought the weight of emotion that nearly crushed him. Part of him didn’t want Suzanne to see where he’d grown up. It was a symbol of how different their lives were. But when he glanced at her he didn’t see judgment or pity, just an overwhelming sadness. Yes, everything about this
house was sad, but the past didn’t matter right now. “Momma?” he called out into the dank hallway where the floorboards buckled.

Suddenly Frieda appeared. “You shouldn’t have come here.” She frowned when she saw Suzanne. “And you shouldn’t have brought her.”

“We’re here to take you home.”

“Just leave me here.” She held out her hands, motioning to the dank walls. “This is where I belong. Not in that nice place you got for me, or that fine house you live in, but here.” She hugged herself. “I’ve ruined everything for you, Rick. Every time you’ve had a chance at happiness I’ve gotten in the way.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

Suzanne pushed past Rick and held her hand out to Frieda. “Momma, we need you at home with us. Please.”

Frieda stared at Suzanne’s outstretched hand and tears fell down her cheeks. “You called me momma.”

“Yes, because you are.”

“And you need me?” she said, unsure.

Suzanne nodded. “Now come.”

Frieda looked at Rick. “Is this really what you want?”

He took his mother’s hand. “I wouldn’t want anything else. We’re going to fight this.”

Rick hired top lawyers, Timothy Yand and Melissa Banks out of Raleigh, to handle his mother’s case, and Suzanne’s knowledge about the importance of gathering and putting together a powerful case was of great help to them. She told them about Wallace’s violent behavior when they were married and his corrupt
business practices. Although the lawyers hadn’t been able to get the trial set in a different location, they’d been able to convince a judge to let them select jurors from another county. As the court date loomed closer, tension between Rick and Suzanne grew.

“Thank you,” Rick said to Suzanne one night as they lay in bed staring up in the darkness. The winter wind howled outside their window.

“For what?”

“The way you handled my momma when she ran away.”

“She’s my momma, too.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“The way you say it. It sounds so proper.”

“I don’t care. I like saying it. I wasn’t allowed to growing up.”

“You weren’t?”

“Absolutely not,” she said with mock horror. “I was a Rand. We didn’t have mommas we had mothers.”

Rick laughed again then sobered. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you were to write this story, how would you make it end?”

“You know how I would end it.”

Rick rested a hand behind his head. “Tell me anyway.”

Suzanne turned on her side and stared at his profile. She couldn’t see much in the darkness but the faint moonlight allowed her to see the shadow of his face. She knew he didn’t believe the trial would go well and needed her reassurance. “At the end of
my
story, Frieda
will be found ‘not guilty’ and all the people Wallace used and blackmailed will come forward and treat her as a hero and the Gordon name will become synonymous with honest justice.”

“Your father wouldn’t like that,” Rick said with a smile in his voice.

“I don’t care. This is my story.” She placed a hand on his bare chest and could feel his heart beating. “The lawyers are putting together a very powerful argument. I’ve been working closely with them and they’re going to poke holes in the prosecutor’s case. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“The prosecutor knew Wallace. They were good friends. He’s going to go for the kill.”

“Everyone knew Wallace and I know how the prosecution works and so do Tim and Melissa.”

“He’s still confident. I’ve read his statements to the press.”

“He has to be. Law is all about appearances, but we’re going to win.”

Rick wanted to believe her, but he was afraid. How could their marriage last the strains of this trial? What would happen if his mother was convicted? Could Suzanne stand being married to a man with two family members in prison? How would the people of Anadale treat her? Could she continue to weather this storm? He turned on his side, but couldn’t sleep.

Suzanne couldn’t sleep, either, her own fears making that impossible. She knew Rick cared for her, but he loved his mother. There was a bond she couldn’t compete with and in a way she was still an outsider. Rick loved his mother and his son, but she was just his
wife, something he could easily discard. She wasn’t a part of him like they were. What if the prosecution won? What if Melba happened all over again? Suzanne squeezed her eyes closed. No, she couldn’t imagine that. She slipped out of bed and left the room. She went into the family room and picked up her violin case and held it close, thinking about Melba and her mother. Tears filled her eyes.