PassionsPoison (20 page)

He’s not happy with you.

Dread filled her as she lifted one of the papers. It was a
digital photo printed on plain paper of her talking with a man at a hotel in
Boston. She picked up another. It showed her talking with another man she’d met
the weekend before. His name was Darren. Another photo caught her walking into
a hotel room with yet another man. The next showed her leaving a room with her
shoes in her hand. Another was taken through a window and showed her on her
hands and knees with Tom, her one-night stand before she met Zach. How the hell
did the person shoot that one? Oh God, there had to be a dozen of them!

She’d been followed. A sharp pain in her stomach had her
doubling over. She reached for her Tums. Popping four in her mouth, she took
deep breaths. As the tablets coated her stomach, she gathered all the paper and
dumped it into her purse.
He’s not happy.
That had to mean Zach. Oh God.
The same package must have been delivered to Zach! She was as positive of that
fact as the dread overwhelming her. The question was, did he receive a letter
too? Did he open it?

She raced out the door and headed for her car, ignoring the
cold air and her lack of coat. How long had Craig had the letter? An hour? All
day? Whoever had it delivered to him must have known how scattered Craig was.
Either that or it was pure bad luck.

Her hands trembled as she turned the key in the ignition.
She drove as fast as she dared along the winding back roads until she reached
Zach’s. The mud in the driveway had hardened, which made it easy to drive
straight to the house. A light shone from inside. Jumping from her vehicle, she
ran to the basement door and knocked. Her racing heart had her taking short breaths,
forming white puffs against the glass window.

When there was no answer, she tried the door. It was locked.
She knocked louder as dread filled her soul. She couldn’t have found him just
to lose him. Fate couldn’t be so cruel.

“Come on, Zach. Open the door. Please.”

She pounded on the door with no results. Frustrated and
scared, she ran to the side of the deck and took the stairs two at a time. She
peered in the sliding-glass door and found him. The photos lay scattered across
the coffee table in the living room. Zach sat on a couch, a bottle of Johnny
Walker in one hand, a two-page typed letter spread on the cushion next to him.

Bea groaned as he lifted the bottle and took a large gulp.

“Oh God, no.” She banged on the glass.

Zach looked up and focused on her slowly. His face twisted
in disgust.

“Let me explain!” she yelled as loud as she could, her body
trembling with panic. She had to get in there. It wasn’t what he thought. She
tugged on the door. It didn’t budge. The tears flowed from her eyes and her
vision blurred. This couldn’t be happening. Why would someone do this to her,
her only chance, her one hope?

She wiped the water from her eyes with a shaky hand and
tried the other slider. It remained in place. She gazed at Zach. “Please, open
the door. Let me explain.”

He gave her a snide grin before he saluted her with the
scotch bottle and took another gulp.

Her stomach twisted hard and she pressed her arm against the
pain. She’d lost him. The hopelessness caused tears to come fast, but she
couldn’t accept it. She shook her head in desperate denial. “Zach, please. Open
the door.”

He leaned forward and picked up the TV remote, which lay
next to the photos.

She pressed both hands against the glass. “Zach, it’s not
what you think! They’re old photos! Please, don’t throw us away!”

He looked at her again and sneered, then the television
popped on and the volume went so loud she couldn’t hear herself.

She stopped pounding on the door and watched as he stared at
the television and laughed. Laughed.

Her heart shriveled inside her chest. Her breaths caught in
her throat, sore from yelling in the frigid temperature. She grabbed at her
stomach, unable to move as defeat settled upon her like a winter cape.

She made herself leave the deck and forced her legs to carry
her to her car.

Her tears dried as she drove home, her whole body turning
numb. She climbed the stairs to her apartment, dragging herself up as if she
were an unwilling sacrifice to a vengeful god. She couldn’t go back to her life
before. She couldn’t do it. She’d experienced what could be, what she wanted
with her whole being. She loved Zach.

She dropped her purse on the table, her old table. Her old
life. She had a good job, lived in an apartment and had to sleep with a
different man every week. She hated that life. She was tired of it. She didn’t
want it. She wanted Zach!

Bea lashed out and sent a plant flying across the kitchen.
Dirt and green leaves scattered over the floor. She grabbed a beer from her
fridge. “Happy now, Mom?” She saluted the air with Zach’s Bud Light. “Who would
have guessed you could be so wrong.”

Zach held his hands over his ears. Why wouldn’t the pounding
stop? He cracked one eyelid and found two large feet standing at his
sliding-glass door. Only one person had feet that big.

Carefully, he removed his hand and motioned with his finger
to wait before attempting to raise his head from the cool pine floor. Bracing
himself on the couch, he squinted and managed to stand, but the pounding in his
head reached new levels. Josh had to have a painkiller with him.

With that sustaining hope, Zach made it to the door and
flipped the lock. The door flew from his hand as it slid open. Cold air hit his
body, numbing the pain for an instant before—

“Why the hell did you throw the floor bolt on the door
downstairs? I couldn’t get in. Jesus, what the hell happened to you?”

Zach’s knees buckled, but unfortunately he stayed conscious
as he slumped down again, the hard floor reacquainting him with last night.

“You’re in bad shape, my friend,” Josh whispered as he
hauled him up against the couch.

He didn’t plan to give a response to such an obvious
statement. Holding his head, he tried to keep his pulse from pounding between
his ears.

Josh nudged his arm. “Here, drink.”

He sniffed, but smelled nothing so he drank the liquid
handed to him.

As Josh walked to the other couch, Zach covered his ears
against the sound. He wasn’t sure if he blacked out again, but it seemed only
minutes later when Josh woke him.

“Okay, enough sleeping on the floor. What happened?”

Zach glanced up to find his friend towering over him.
Surprised by the lack of pain in his head, he moved it right and left, then
looked at Josh again. “What was in that stuff?”

“Just a little something I concocted in med school.” Josh
strolled back to the couch and cracked a beer. “I made it to help me pull
all-nighters, but discovered it works great on hangovers as well.”

Zach pulled himself onto the cushions behind him, still
nervous he’d start the blinding pain in his head again. “Hell, you should
market that.”

“I don’t think so. There’s a controlled drug in there. I’d
prefer not to go to jail.”

Leaning forward, Zach grabbed the water bottle Josh had left
for him. After a few good swallows, he felt better, but still tired. “What are
you doing here?”

His friend stared at him as if he’d grown horns. Maybe he
didn’t want to know the answer.

Josh picked up his beer and toasted him. “It’s Saturday. You
offered me your place for the weekend because you had decided to take a break
from Bea and go see your mom and dad. Remember? Though why you’d see your
parents instead of having sex is a mystery to me.”

Bea. The photos. Everything came back in a rush, or almost
everything. He ran his hands over his face. “Hell, how many days have I been out
of it?”

Josh surveyed him from head to toe. “I’m going to hazard a
guess it’s been two days since you were sober and conscious. I base that solely
on the number and variety of empty bottles I took from your living room. That
and the post-office stamp on the envelope I found lying on the floor.”

Gut-wrenching pain took Zach’s breath away as the photos of
Bea with other men flashed across his mind.

Josh strode into the kitchen and came back with another
beer. “Here. You look as if you could use one. But nothing stronger, got it?”
He grinned. “Doctor’s orders.”

Zach took a swig and set the beer on the table. “Christ.
What an idiot I am. I fell for her act.”

Josh rested his long legs on the coffee table and crossed
them. “First, who can blame you? She’s downright hot. Truly the queen of the
hotties, I mean that body is—”

“Hey, you’re talking about my girlfriend there. I mean
ex-girlfriend.” Zach had no idea where his anger came from, but knowing Josh
had stared at Bea’s body in those photos had him struggling not to reach over
and punch his friend. It didn’t make sense.

Josh sobered. “Wow, did you fall for this girl?”

Zach shook his head and took another swallow of beer.

Josh eyed him. “You weren’t even this messed up after Lisa.”

Zach shrugged, unwilling to compare photos of a woman in the
act of cheating to his late fiancée’s run-in with a moose. Lisa had meant
everything to him, but she had been killed instantly when she hit the moose
with her car, the animal’s large body flying through the windshield. Yes, the
pain had been bad, but she was gone, forever. But Bea…the pain in his chest
returned. Bea loved him. He would bet his house on it. And she was still alive,
in the next town over. His throat closed, making it hard to swallow.

“Hey, Zach. You still with me, buddy?”

He crossed his ankle over his knee in an attempt to appear
less affected, but the movement sent a potent waft of Scotch up from his jeans.
He grimaced. Hell, he was rank.

Josh set his beer on the end table and leaned back. “So what
did she say when you confronted her with the pictures?”

A vision of Bea crying on his deck popped into his head. Had
she been here? Christ, he couldn’t remember, but a niggling sensation in the
back of his mind had him feeling uncomfortable. “I haven’t spoken to her about
them.”

Josh crossed his hands behind his head as if he planned to
pick out all the gory details. “So you haven’t broken it off yet. Does she know
you have them?”

Zach looked at his friend, but didn’t see him. He saw Bea at
the window asking to come in and he…he… What the hell did he do? “She knows
I’ve seen them but—” He was sure he would remember if he had let her in. He had
seen her on his deck and then he— “Oh Christ.”

Josh perked up. “What?”

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I was a
real ass. I wouldn’t even let her in. I didn’t want to hear it.” The feelings
rushed back and with them a need to dull the pain again. He lifted his head and
grabbed the beer and gulped. The cold alcohol did nothing for him. He put the
half-empty bottle down with a thud.

Josh shrugged. “From what I saw and read, there wasn’t much
left to learn.”

He glanced around the room. “What did you do with the letter
and photos?”

“Over there.” Josh angled his head toward the kitchen table.
“Who sent them? The postmark said Tamwick, but I didn’t see a name on the
letter.”

Zach ran his hands over his face again. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter. Who cares what motivated the
person to send that packet? It’s not as if you need to talk to her anyway. I
mean, it’s all there in black and white. Besides, it was time to break it off
anyway, right?”

Zach stared at the sheets of paper he could see piled on the
kitchen table. “Yeah, right, I guess.”

Josh smirked. “Of course I’m right. I told you, I’m a
genius.”

He took another swig of beer and stared at the leafless
trees outside. The scenery didn’t soothe him like it usually did, which left
getting drunk or working the chainsaw to escape the pain. Since he didn’t
relish the idea of another head-splitting, timber-falling headache, he might as
well work. Maybe carving into the wood would make him forget that Bea still
existed. “I’m going to work.”

Josh sat forward. “What? It’s frigid outside, you’ll freeze.
Don’t you like my company?”

Zach strode to the stairs. “Nothing personal, Josh, but you
planned on being here alone this weekend, so feel free to do as you please.
Maybe you can get lucky. Me, I’ve got a carving to finish.”

* * * * *

“Bea? You okay? You don’t look very good.”

She forced her gaze to focus on Kayla, standing in the
doorway of her office. “I’m fine, just tired.”

Kayla strode in and placed her hand on her forehead. “I
don’t think so. You’re hotter than a tin roof in June.”

Bea jerked away. “I have a little fever. Don’t worry. I took
aspirin. It’ll go away. I get these sometimes.” Though she tried to avoid them
until now. The poison in her system had built up more than she’d ever
experienced. She had come by herself last night with her specially made porous
dildo, which made it possible for her to go to work, but she needed a man. She
just couldn’t bring herself to find one. Masturbating only expelled some
poison. Most of it seeped right back into her body through her skin. Boy, her
mother would be so disappointed in her. No husband, no baby and dead at thirty.

Kayla shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

She turned back to her computer. “I’m sorry you don’t like
it, but I have work to do.”

Kayla backed up a step. “Now I know you’re not well. You
never snap. Just because Zach dumped you doesn’t mean you can let yourself go.
I’m calling my doctor. You need to see someone.”

“No!” Bea slammed her hands on the desk and let her head
drop. “Will you let me do my work, please?”

Kayla shook her head. Something was very wrong. “Okay, but
I’m going to keep checking on you.”

Gary peeked around the corner. “Kayla, could you come here a
minute?”

Torn between work and her friend, she sighed, but went to
the front desk. “What do you need, Gary?”

“This just came for Bea. You told me to let you know when
another one arrived.”

Kayla stared at the envelope with “To Bea Rappaccini”
printed on it. If she gave the letter to Bea now, the woman would have a
nervous breakdown. “Thanks, Gary. Did you see who brought it?”

“Yeah, the kid from the ice-cream shop down by the Hillside
Inn. He tried to be discreet, dropping it on the counter when I was busy, but I
noticed.”

“Excellent, Gary. This is very important. I think the police
will be thrilled to hear you caught sight of who has been leaving these letters.”

Gary puffed with pride, but another customer demanded his
attention.

Kayla took the opportunity to peek in on Bea. Poking her
head around the corner, she gasped. Bea had fallen from her chair and lay
motionless on the floor. Kayla ran to her side. “Bea, can you hear me?”

“Mom?”

Oh shit. Kayla felt Bea’s forehead and grimaced at the heat
radiating off her. Except for two bright spots of color on her cheeks, her face
was pale. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, making them appear sunken. Kayla
tamped down her rising fear and, cradling her friend in her arms, pulled Bea’s
purse off the desk, grabbed the cell phone from it and scanned the contacts.
Finding Susan Rappaccini’s name, she dialed, proud that her hand barely shook.

Susan answered. “Hello? Is that you, Bea?”

Kayla cringed at the hopeful sound in the woman’s voice.
“Hi, Susan, this is Kayla. You need to come quick. Bea’s fainted and she asked
for you.”

“Oh my God. I’ll be right there.”

Kayla closed the cell phone and dropped it on the floor.
“It’s okay. Your mom’s on the way.”

Bea struggled to sit. “Mom? No. I can’t. She can’t.”

Kayla propped her against the desk. “Listen, lady. It’s
either your mom or I’m calling 9-1-1.”

Bea’s shoulders sagged. “Fine.”

* * * * *

Susan left the guest bedroom and wrung her hands. She’d
never seen anyone in her family in such bad shape. Praying her daughter would
use the porous dildo she gave her until they could figure something out, she
entered the living room.

Gerry stopped pacing. “How is she?”

Susan shook her head.

He enveloped her in his massive arms. “Shhh. We’ll fix her.
Don’t worry.”

She cuddled her face against his black muscle shirt and
almost gave in to the tears smarting her eyes. “She’s really bad. It’s as if
she doesn’t care anymore.”

Gerry moved her back to arm’s length. “You listen to me,
Susan. We’re going to get our gal back on her feet if I have to kidnap every
man or doctor this side of the Connecticut River.”

She nodded. He was right. Between them all, they would come
up with something. “I just have to figure out who can help her. We can’t give
her a man, she only wants Zach and he dumped her.”

Gerry let go and whipped out his cell phone. “There you go.
Now we’re talking. I’ll call my boys. We’ll get him over here right now.”

Susan grasped his arm. “No, that won’t work because he won’t
have sex with her. Bea said he thinks she cheated on him. We can’t force him to
have sex.”

Gerry’s face fell and his arms dropped to his sides, the
cell phone useless in his big hand. “Maybe I could think of something.”

Susan smiled sadly, but shook her head. “If only I knew
someone Bea liked well enough to have rebound sex or which of her lovers likes
her, but I haven’t met any of them except Zach and Phillip. Wait. That’s it!
Phillip loves our Bea desperately. Give me your phone. I have his number on the
fridge.”

She ran into the kitchen and scanned the many pieces of
scrap paper she had taped to the refrigerator. She always kept Phillip’s in the
upper-right corner, a good place of Karma for long-lasting love. Or at least,
she thought it was. “Ha, here it is.”

She dialed quickly.

He answered on the first ring. “Hi, Susan, does Bea want to
see me now?”

“I hope so. She’s in bad shape and I’m at a loss what to do.
Can you come by right away?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Susan sighed with relief. “Thank you. How long will it take
you to get here from there?”

He laughed. “Actually, about ten minutes. As it happens, I’m
in town this weekend.”

Tears gathered in her eyes again and her entire body
trembled as Gerry entered the kitchen. For a moment, she thought she would
fall, her knees were shaking so badly. “Thank you, Phillip. I knew you would
help.”

After hanging up, she kissed the paper with his phone number
for good luck.

Gerry pulled her onto his lap at the kitchen table. “What
did he say?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stroked his smooth
head, a habit that always calmed her. “He’s coming.”

* * * * *