A Dangerous Dance (26 page)

As if she sensed his scrutiny, she turned to face him.

“Hello, Darius.” Her violet eyes were calm and curious.

Emma's eyes.
So that's what Bozo hadn't told him. There was no Kate, there was only Emma. Inside, he absorbed the shock of it. It rocked him to his core. Outside, he refused to even blink as she studied him, perhaps surprised by what time had wrought on his aspect?

With her hand, she brushed the cold leather of his dark couch. “Interesting place you have here. A bit chilly. Not how I remember you.”

Her eyes reminded him of what they'd shared—how very far from chilly he'd been that night she came to him. For the first time since he strangled Suzanne, he found himself looking at a woman and not thinking about killing her. His gaze probed her face, her eyes, searching for the woman he remembered, trying to find the passion that had obsessed him for twenty-eight years.

And failing.

He strolled toward her, but stopped when each step closer revealed her age in more detail. He didn't want to remember her this way. She should have stayed dead.

“You're not how I remember either...Emma.”

She shrugged. “Time. It's a bitch, isn't it?”

Had she always been this hard? He turned toward the bar. “Can I offer you something? We should toast our reunion, don't you think?” He looked at her, one brow arched.

The way she walked toward him was as graceful as he remembered. Almost he could forget she was old. Almost.

“I'll have tonic water, if you have it.”

She kept her distance, and the bar, between them. The morning light wasn't kind. Time hadn't been either. Who she was now, threatened to blur who she'd been inside his head. If he didn't have Dorothy to hold on to, he might have lost her completely.

Now he found himself wondering what death would do to her—if he could bring himself to wrap his hands around her sagging throat. He supposed she was well preserved...for her age, but it wasn't enough for him. He expected better from the women in his life. She was hardly worth killing now.

He handed her a glass, then clicked his against it, before lifting it to his lips. He watched her lift hers, watched her lips close around the rim, then the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

And still felt nothing. Not even the urge to kill her.

Though he'd force himself to do it if he felt any threat from her. But neither of them would get any pleasure from it. It was a pity, but also a relief. It was, he realized, Dorothy he wanted now. From Emma, all he needed was the truth.

Thankfully, she didn't come on to him, just studied him as he studied her. That amused him. If he didn't know from personal experience that she was a woman, he'd say she had balls.

He gestured for her to take a seat, and then sat down opposite her. “I guess the rumors of your death were exaggerated.”

“When Magus threw me out, I went to my sister's. That's where Dorothy was born. When she offered to keep her, raise her as her own, I was grateful to agree. I didn't need a kid slowing me down. We switched identities, because we didn't have the money to do the legal stuff. I became Kate. She became Emma.”

“And presented me with a puzzle.”

She arched a brow in a mute question. It was a sad shadow of how she'd looked that night, an echo of the way she'd offered herself to him.

“Of how you could have changed from sex kitten to domesticated mommy.”

She laughed and that was the same. For a moment he felt a stirring in his loins, but he made the mistake of looking at her and the impulse died. He hadn't expected this, that his passion for her would be so tied to how she looked. Was it a reflection on him or her? Probably both, he decided.

“And were you Kate or Emma when you had your liaison with Verrol Vance?”

Both brows arched this time. “So Bozo called you. He's such a little weasel.” She leaned back, stretching in a sad mimicry of the past. “Actually, I never knew Vance at all. I just told him that to pull his chain.”

He smiled. “I'm sure he deserved it.” He hesitated, before saying as if it didn't matter, “So you don't have anything from Vance?”

Her lashes lifted, as did her shoulders. Again, the movements were both familiar and alien.

“Is it likely I would have, even if we had done the deed?”

He lifted his glass, took a drink, and said, “No, it's not likely.”

She leaned forward, her head tilted to one side. “So you're curious, too?”

“Am I? About what?” This was pure Emma. It almost made him forget her age.

“About who hired Vance, of course? You always did like knowing things.”

So she didn't suspect him. That was a relief, he realized. Beyond his distaste about touching her, he really didn't want to kill her. For old time's sake? Or just because he once loved her? If it was love. It was all mixed up inside his head now, the past and the present. And in the middle of it all, there was Dorothy, who looked so much like the Emma of the past. He didn't like feeling confused. He didn't just like clarity. He needed it. He needed to know what was expedient and what wasn't.

Her eyes watched him as she added, “That's not to say I wouldn't have, if I had met him. I was doing anything and everything to get Magus's attention. I was such a fool.”

“Is that what I was to you?” It was a kick in the gut. He was over her, but she wasn't supposed to be over him. He could see her considering what answer to give.

“The truth, Emma. I can take it.” But could he? He didn't know.

“Okay, that's all you were. That's all any of you were. I'm sorry, but that's the way it was.”

Others. There'd been others? How many, he wondered. And why didn't I know? “What others?”

Her brows arched. “Surely you knew? Bozo, Bubba Joe, the milkman. I think I even did it with the pool boy. And Magus never noticed.”

He saw the hurt in the back of her eyes and it pleased him.
Good
, he thought,
you should suffer for your sins. How dare she use him like that?
Suddenly the idea of squeezing her throat until her eyes went blank was interesting again.

“Why did you tell him when you got pregnant? That was stupid.”

“I may have been a slut, but I was an honest one.” She shrugged and tossed back the rest of her drink and got to her feet.

He stood. “Why didn't you come back when Magus died?”

He found he was curious. He'd never known her, not really. He'd created her, made her what he wanted her to be. Was he in danger of doing the same thing with Dorothy? For just an instant, he wondered if he should proceed, but then he realized, he had the power to shape her. She was young and, unlike Emma, she wouldn't be leaving him. She would become what he wanted or die. It was as simple as that.

She looked down for the first time since she'd walked in. “I met someone. We got married. It was better if my past stayed in the past.”

“And why are you here now?”

She hesitated and shrugged. “I'm getting old. I found I was curious about this person Magus and I created out of our angry passion.”

“It's not because you need money, then?”

The edges of her mouth turned up. “Well, there is that, too.” Her mouth curved into a real smile. “You always did see through me, didn't you?”

He felt a rush of relief. She hadn't known. He'd been a fool only to himself. For that, he'd let her live and walk out the door.

“What did Bozo try to do?”

“He didn't tell you.” She shook her head. “He had a faked paternity test. As if Magus would ever have taken her in if she hadn't been his. So I made him back off.”

“Why did you care?”

Emma's brows rose, as if to say, isn't that obvious. “If she's not Magus's her inheritance could be challenged.”

“And you can't have that, can you?” He lifted his brows in mock amusement, while considering whether he believed her. If she'd fooled him before, she could fool him now, he supposed, though what power she'd have to do him any damage was debatable.

“Does Dorothy know you're alive?”

Her lashes dropped like walls. “Now that wouldn't be too smart of me, would it?”

And she'd just handed him a weapon. No, she was no threat to him anymore.

“No, I don't suppose it would. And you were always smart, weren't you, Emma?” Did she notice how ironic he sounded? If she did, there was no sign of it. She merely looked satisfied.

“So, you won't mess with her either, right?”

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to, Emma. She and Mistral are getting in my way.”

Her lips thinned. “What if I can talk her into getting out of your way?”

He pretended to consider this. She didn't, she couldn't know, that Dorothy had a larger purpose to serve. They'd come full circle, or were almost there. Dorothy would complete the link between the past and the present, making all whole again. She would finish what her mother had started. It had to be.

“Do you really think you have that much influence?” A so-called aunt who'd been missing in her life until now? She was delusional.

“I'm the only family she has left. She wants to trust me. She needs to trust me. I think I can deliver.”

“If you can, then we have no problem at all.” He smiled at her.

After a moment, she smiled back. She looked at her watch.

“I've got an appointment. This was fun, though. We should do it again in thirty years.”

The flash of anger he felt surprised him, but he managed to keep it below the surface. He nodded and smiled, wondering if she knew how close he came to grabbing her by the throat and shaking her like the bitch she was.

She walked out without looking back, the same way she left him before. He probably couldn't afford to let her live. She might be able to figure out that he'd been the one to take Dorothy. He almost went after her, but there'd been so many deaths. And who might she have told she was coming here? No, he needed to be cautious with his newfound power, if he hoped to keep wielding it. When it was expedient, he'd take care of Emma.

He bent and picked up her discarded glass, realizing this was as close as they'd come to touching. Not a hand shake or even a polite brushing of cheeks. Had she been afraid to touch him? Or afraid of what he'd learn if he touched her? No matter. He'd find out later.

* * * *

Helene Tierry lived in a small cottage that Dorothy had deeded to her ten years ago, when Helene told her she was retiring. Dorothy had thought, at the time, that Helene must be very shaken about Magus's death to retire so young. How hard must it have been to be on both sides of that equation?

Dorothy had always liked the cottage, and had often wished she could live there instead of in Oz. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its white picket fence and wild tangle of flowers and vines. The gate squeaked a welcome as Remy pushed it open. He waited for Dorothy to precede him up the path before following her in. There was an air of abandonment about the house, so she wasn't surprised when their ringing of the bell netted no response.

“Let's try the neighbors,” he said.

“She left, oh, about a year ago, I guess,” said the lady across the street. “She missed her people. She was from the North, you know. She was that sad after the Wizard died. She had no heart for anything anymore.”

If her son had killed him, it was understandable.

“Do you have an address for her?” Dorothy asked.

“Let me see if I can find it.” After a time, the lady returned with a slip of paper, the spidery writing barely decipherable.

“Thank you.” Dorothy smiled at the woman, who seemed pleased.

“We miss your dad around here, girl,” she said. “You really think he'd be a good governor?” She nodded toward Remy. Dorothy smiled, bemused by the question. “Then he's got my vote.”

“Thank you,” Remy said, sounding bemused and amused.

“You just do what you say you'll do. That'll be thank you enough for me!” She shut the door leaving them to look at each other in abashed astonishment.

“You forget that all this affects real people, with real lives,” Dorothy said, as they walked back to the car. She looked at the paper. “Darn it. I had to pick today to send the jet off with Titus. If I call it back today, he'll want to be on it. And you've got that event tomorrow. We could have Titus check it out?”

Remy shook his head. “I was looking forward to a break from his scowling. Let me put a detective I know on locating her. Then we'll go talk to her ourselves after the rally.”

“I could go, you know. She'd probably talk to me.”

Remy shook his head. “I need you at the rally. You're the Wizard's daughter, remember? And there's our announcement. I feel like we shouldn't wait. Besides, we're the only ones who have this.” He waved the piece of paper with the address on it.

“For once we're ahead of the enemy,” Dorothy said, with satisfaction. As Remy helped her into the car, she caught an odd look in his eyes. What was he thinking?

Remy was in deep and getting deeper all the time. He'd thought he could do this, but it was proving to be much harder than he'd ever imagined. How was he supposed to resist the irresistible? It was bad enough now, but what about when they were married and it was legal, if not ethical, to finish what they'd started with that kiss?

Their dance was proving to be dangerous on so many levels. He could feel the building menace from their unknown enemy. He was angry, whoever he was. And like a snake, he was poised to strike. Indeed, he already had. The shots fired at him had been shots fired across the bow, no question about that. Titus had indicated they'd found nothing but some shell casings. He wished he didn't feel like Titus would just as soon see him dead, as help him find out anything. It was a relief to have him out of the state for a while.

Just before he slid into the car, he looked around. Was someone waiting out there to try again? If there was, he needed to be more alert. He didn't want anything happening to Dorothy. Not to mention, the last thing she needed was to see someone else shot in front of her.

“Where now?” Dorothy asked.

“Lunch?”

“Just what I was thinking,” she said with satisfaction.

As Remy put the car in gear, he looked toward the helpful neighbor's house. She was watching them out her window. What was that all about, he wondered? Or did he already know?