Smoke and Mirrors (11 page)

“I’m amazed someone as useless as you can manage to do anything,” the doctor said as the tumbler of amber liquid rose up for another sip.

Just be quiet,
Rory thought,
maybe I should just not say anything.

“Dinner is ready. Would you like to eat out here or perhaps we could sit and enjoy it in the dining room?”

Alex’s blood was boiling with an urge to smash Rory’s idiot mouth in.
Why is Rory disrespecting me? Interrupting when I have my drink in my hand?

The doctor held onto that anger, but did not let it erupt as they both knew it could, like a silent volcano waiting to spill its deadly lava, killing everything in its path.

“Hmmm,” Alex grumbled, not really giving an answer.

“I’ll just go make sure it’s still hot for you.” Rory walked away, tense.

It wasn’t that Rory didn’t know what was happening. There were no excuses for the doctor’s behavior. Rory wasn’t the, “Oh it’s me; I bring it on myself,” martyred victim type. Or even, “Alex loves me, and will soon notice I’m hurting.”

No, the trouble went further than those deep-seated emotions.

But it was easier to just shut up and do as the doctor wanted.

Ari needed a stable home to grow up in, but life around the doctor was more like walking on egg shells. When Alex arrived home, the doctor was normally some degree of angry.

Who would believe such a well respected cardiologist, such a pillar of society, would go home and abuse their spouse? Sometimes verbal abuse, sometimes physical.

And even if they did, it would be so damn embarrassing, especially in today’s day and age. Media had such a large role in people’s lives and were vigilant about bringing the plight of abused women to the public’s awareness.

Books were written about spousal abuse, movies were being made and people were actually talking about it.

Still, even with such a huge campaign to shine a light on the effects of domestic abuse, with all sorts of new laws and police training programs to curb it, no one would believe Rory. Hell, so many organizations focusing on domestic violence could be rattled off…Joyful Hearts, No More, there was even The National Domestic Hotline that was available 24/7. No, Alex would have to be caught red-handed, physically abusing Rory in public for anyone to believe such a paragon capable of intense cruelty

But this was also embarrassing for another reason.

All those news stories and organizations were generally geared toward one gender being abused.

Who would believe Alex, the top cardiologist, the person held in such high regard in the community, was a monster?

And Mr. Rory Swannson’s wife?

She sat in her car and watched as the man ran toward her.

He looked defeated, totally spent and out of breath. He kept looking over his shoulder at something. She looked behind him and saw three men, all dressed in black suits and wearing dark sunglasses, running after him with extreme determination.

She smiled to herself, knowing she was a magnet for dangerous situations and even worse, hazardous men.

The running man was only a hundred yards or so away from her, and he looked as if he were going to collapse any moment. Which meant the three thugs hot on his trail would catch him, and do God knows what to him.

That’s not gonna happen.

She lifted her fingers, made an O with her thumb and index finger, brought them to her lips and blew. The man’s attention instantly snapped toward her shrill whistle, as did the attention of most pedestrians walking past.

She motioned for the man to get in the car with just a flick of her wrist.

Running from the three oversized henchmen, the man did the only thing he could; he picked up speed and ran to the passenger side, jumping into the car through the door she’d pushed open for him.

Her foot was on the gas so quickly the rear tires of her meaty muscle car spun and the back end fishtailed out to the side.

The stranger was huffing in exhaustion and looking behind them as the three men stopped their pursuit. One immediately took out his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” said the man sitting beside her. His breath was still ragged, though calming as she continued to speed down toward an open road.

“You’re welcome,” she said with a tight smile and looked over to her new passenger. “Why were they chasing you?” she asked, her voice soft and caring.

“They think I did something. Doesn’t matter now. I’ve gotten away…thanks to you,” he said, his eyes appreciating the beautiful woman sitting beside him.

“What did they think you did?” she asked, trying to justify to herself why on earth she chose to help this cute guy sitting next to her.

“Probably better you don’t know.”

She stared out the window, concentrating on handling the high performance vehicle at the high speeds she was traveling.

“I’ve just become involved in your getaway. The least you can do is tell me who we’re running from.” She sounded annoyed with him, and truthfully, she was.

“Trust me; it’s better if you have no idea. Because if they find you, then you can’t tell them anything. It’s for your own safety.”

“Then get out, and you can deal with whoever is chasing you on your own.” She hit the brakes so hard the car slid to a stop. A few cars flew past her with their hand on the horn, yelling obscenities out the window at her and showing her the universal signal for fuck you.

She showed them hers in reply.

The guy sitting beside her looked at her and slightly tilted his head to the side. “You’re damned crazy,” he said and let out a humorless chuckle.

“Well?” She shrugged her shoulders and waited for him to either get out or tell her what the hell her crazy ass just got involved with.

The man’s head snapped to the back window, looking to see if the three men carrying weapons were still chasing them. Of course, they weren’t.

“Fine. Can we please just go?”

“Not until you start talking.” She leaned back in the leather bucket seat and gave him a ‘hurry up’ look.

“They work for a guy with influence.”

She put the car into gear, and resumed their journey again. He looked at her long, shiny, dark hair, her big brown eyes, her voluptuous breasts as her cleavage peeked out from under the tight, low-cut red t-shirt she was wearing and thought ‘man, she’s one hot, tough chick’.

“Go on,” she said, placing one hand on her chest as the other steered the car.

“I kinda stole some money from a guy.”

“How much is ‘some’?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the road, though definitely interested in his response.

“About two million dollars.”

He studied her features for a reaction, and he got one. Her eyebrows shot up and she took a deep breath. He saw her run her tongue along her teeth, and she let out a small sigh.

“Yeah, that’ll get you killed. Why?”

“’Cause I didn’t think he’d miss it.”

She laughed, a huge belly laugh, one that tore at him.

“You’re dumb as they come, honey. Anyone that has that type of money, knows exactly, down to the last penny how much they have and where it is.”

“Yeah, I’m figuring that out,” said the guy, as he brought his hand up to rub over his eyes, frustrated.

“Why don’t you just give it back?” she asked, all her innocence showing in just that one sentence.

He let out a huge exhalation. Obviously, he’d considered it but didn’t know how to do that without getting himself killed.

“I was on my way to get it, but Mario’s goons spotted me and came after me.”

There was silence in the car for a few seconds as her eyebrows knit together. Clearly, she was thinking.

Maybe she’s trying to figure out how to get me out of this shit.

The silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. The whine of the tires on the road was a welcome distraction. There was a pleasant, faint scent coming from outside the car, like aroma of cotton candy, that beautiful, burnt sugar smell that clung in the air when a carnival rolled into town. It was a pleasant scent-memory from his childhood, one that put him to ease.

“Where is it? I can drop you off there and you can do what you need to do,” the woman finally spoke, tearing him away from the momentary security he felt, the scent of cotton candy bringing him back to a happy time.

“I put it in two lockers at the high school.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tell me,” she started as she chuckled at his stupidity, “you forgot the locker numbers?”

He rolled his eyes, and found her laugh quite sexy. “No, I’m not that much of an idiot. One’s 069 and the other is 169.” It was his turn to laugh.

He looked over at her. She was blushing a deep red color, and when she looked at him, he waggled his eyebrows at her.

Man, she’s fucking hot. I could do her right now
, thought the guy as his eyes quickly went to her fleshy, full lips. He held his gaze on her mouth for a few seconds, before allowing it to fall to her bursting tits.

“C’mon, let’s go get this money and you can hand it back to Mario,” she said as she turned the car around and headed toward the high school.

He knew she was right, this beautiful stranger that helped him get away from Mario’s thugs. Maybe after they got the money she and he could…

SHIT!

What the hell just happened?

He swiped at something sharp pricking his leg and looked down to see a syringe in the woman’s hand.

He turned his head to see the beautiful woman smiling at him.

“What did you do?” he asked. His vision was beginning to go blurry, her face distorting before him.

“My dear husband Mario sends his best,” she said before it all went black.

Justine stood on the dock looking up at the huge ship, nervously clutching her passport in one hand and her small carry-on case in the other.

Her passport would soon receive its inaugural stamp, and she couldn’t believe it, after thirty-five years she was finally doing something for herself.

The previous year she’d gone through a messy divorce. Her ex-husband had been a complete prick.

She’d spent her entire youth working three jobs to put the bastard through university, and he had gladly sat back and watched Justine work sixty hours a week so he could finish his law degree.

When he graduated (not even the top of his class) he’d promised Justine she could take it easy and he’d support her. But of course, the money she made was too good, and he kept putting that off. She worked, wanting desperately to provide a happy and secure place for her, her husband, and their future family.

The months turned to years, and when Justine told him she wanted a baby, he sprang a huge surprise on her.

He already had one, he said, with another woman. A woman who always took care of him and wasn’t too busy to service him or his needs, he had told Justine haughtily.

She lost it then. She’d only been “too busy” because he wanted the nicer things in life and he was determined to become a successful lawyer.

While she cried many tears, and was totally heartbroken, Justine finally did the only thing she could. She left his sorry ass.

Being a spiteful prick, he made it as difficult as possible for her to take what she’d worked her butt off for. She ended up with only a sliver of what she should have gotten. He and the new girlfriend had the majority of their joint assets.

So she kept doing what she had always done – worked her damn ass off. But now it was her time to shine, to do something just for herself. She smiled widely as she stood at the passenger terminal and looked up at the huge ocean liner.

Her heart thrummed with a strong, healthy beat inside her chest. She was so excited to finally get away from all the bullshit that life kept throwing at her.

“Now listen to me, Justine,” her mom started. Her mother was definitely a no-nonsense type of woman, always telling her to be cautious, to look over her shoulder, be careful and never do anything that might cause her distress. “Now listen to me, when you get on that ship, you throw all your worries to the wind. You party like you should have in your early twenties. You drink like a fish, but most of all, you be safe.”