The Darkness Gathers (26 page)

She waited for a wave of grief, but a feeling of disbelief lingered instead. A stubborn faith that Tatiana was still alive wrapped itself around Lydia’s heart. But she nodded her head, pretending to accept the news, and stared out the window. Jeffrey placed a hand on her leg.

“How did you find out about it?” Jeffrey asked.

“Bad news travels fast.”

“I want to see the body,” said Lydia.

“She’s already on her way back to Miami.”

“That’s impossible. The red tape alone would hold that up for days.”

“The sea of red tape parts for the likes of Nathan Quinn,” he said, echoing what Craig had said to her last night.

“That’s right,” she said with bitter sarcasm, “the master class.”

They all sat in silence for what seemed like forever. Lydia rolled down the window a crack, letting in the whisper of tires on wet asphalt and a flutter of raindrops. The car pulled off the FDR at Houston Street. A squeegee man accosted the front windshield of the limo at the light, but the driver ignored him. Lydia pulled out a dollar and handed it to him through the window crack. She heard him yell “God bless you” as they moved on slick roads through Alphabet City and then further into the East Village, turning onto Lafayette and then onto Great Jones. The limo idled in front of the building.

“Jeff, let’s go someplace and talk.”

“Not tonight, Jacob. I’ll meet you in the office tomorrow morning at nine. I want to see those books. No excuses.”

“Fine. I was never trying to hide anything from you, man.”

Jeff nodded, looking at him with cool eyes and a sad half smile. The driver opened the door for Lydia, holding an umbrella over her head, and walked her to the front door. He went back to help Jeffrey with the bags as Lydia opened the door to the elevator vestibule, which, she noticed, needed a coat of paint. Too bad they were heading to Eastern Europe tomorrow to thwart a sex slavery/snuff ring. How are you ever supposed to get anything done around the house? she wondered. If she were a member of the “master class” she wouldn’t have to trouble herself with such worries. She punched their code into the keypad by the elevator and the door opened. She got in and held it as Jeffrey and the chauffeur came in with the bags.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said softly in her ear. She almost believed it.

“She’s not dead, Jeffrey,” she said as they walked into the apartment.

“Lydia …”

“She’s not.”

He didn’t argue with her, knowing that it was pointless.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jacob?” she asked.

He put a finger to her lip. “No more talking tonight.”

“But—”

He grabbed Lydia and pulled her into him, pressing his mouth to hers. He wanted, needed, to shut everything out but her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt herself being lifted a little in his embrace. His lips found the delicate lobe of her ear and moved down to the soft flesh of her neck. “Let’s take a shower,” he whispered in her ear.

“Umm,” she replied, taking his hand and leading him upstairs.

They let the scalding water fill the bathroom with steam as Jeffrey peeled off her clothes. Plush throw rugs protected her bare feet from the cool stone tile floor as she kicked off her boots and let Jeffrey slide her pants down over her hips.

“I forgot about this,” he said, lifting her ripped shirt off over her head and inspecting the cut on her arm.

“It’s fine,” she said, lying. Smiling, she reached to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans. She lifted off his shirt and ran her hands along the soft skin and hard muscle of his chest, pressed her bare skin against his. It was good to think of nothing but the moment, to leave the evil outside the bathroom door and immerse herself in the hot water and in Jeffrey. The water burned and beat down on her skin in a pleasant way as she stepped over the ledge of the Jacuzzi tub. She loved hot, hot showers that left her skin red and tingling. He climbed in beside her and they stood for a second, looking at each other. He pushed her hair back from her eyes and water washed over them. He kissed her with the same desperate passion that he had the first time their lips had touched, and she melted into him, as unable to resist now as she had been back then. She felt him grow hard, and she ached inside. Each time they made love, it felt like they had been together for a lifetime already, it was so intimate, so loving, their knowledge of each other so complete. But every time it was different, too, new levels of pleasure, new shades of emotion. She groaned as he entered her, holding on to her back, pressing her against the tile. She wrapped a leg around him, her arms around his shoulders, her mouth on his neck.

They were only their bodies and their hearts; everything ugly and wrong they had known over the last few days was shady and indistinct behind the steam that filled the bathroom and fogged the mirrors.

I
s it possible to love something as much as you hate it? Is it possible to be as turned on by something as you are repulsed by it? Lydia was thinking as Jeffrey rubbed Neosporin into the gash on her arm and then tenderly applied three butterfly bandages. It turned out to be about six inches long, but not as deep as it felt. White stars of pain danced before her eyes as Jeffrey nursed her wound.

“That should help it heal better,” he said, kissing her on the forehead and leaning back on the mahogany headrest of the bed in their Great Jones loft. Their bedroom was lighted by a single white pillar candle, and Chopin intoned mournfully on the Bose CD alarm clock beside their bed, lulling her into an ever-blacker mood. She’d never been happier to see their beautiful duplex, or to climb onto their luxurious four-poster king-size bed, or to wrap herself in the velvet duvet, the pleasure of relief being one decibel away from orgasm. But it was to be a one-night reprieve, and then back into the lion’s den. She lay back and let her tired body become one with the mattress. But when she closed her eyes, visions of the last few days visited her like Harpies shrieking their fury. She shuddered, opened her eyes, and met Jeffrey’s warm gaze. His was the very face of comfort and security. She was constantly amazed that the same person who aroused in her such passion could make her feel so safe and calm, so peaceful with just one glance.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay,” he said for the second time that night, reaching over to shut off the Chopin. “That music is so depressing,” he said.

He got up and walked over to the dresser and blew out the candle there. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

When he came back, he reached over and turned down the covers on her side of the bed. She scooted over, wearing black cotton panties and a matching camisole. He tucked her in and kissed her on the lips. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.”

He got in bed beside her, and then there was a fifteen-second wrestling match for sheets, blankets, and comforter, which Lydia won, making Jeffrey snuggle in close to her to remain under the covers. “You’re such a bed hog,” he complained.

“Whatever,” she said, enjoying the warmth of his body. No more than five minutes later, she heard his breathing grow deep and steady. She lay there with her eyes open, wide-awake, staring at the window where the amber glow from the streetlight leaked beneath the blinds, sleep slipping away like water through cupped fingers.

chapter twenty-five

T
he bruised and bluish body, thin and stiff on the metal gurney, was not his daughter. Did they think he did not know every inch of her, down to her delicate fingertips? The body before him was common and cheap, weak and discarded by life. Tatiana would never look like that—even in death. He closed his eyes and nearly lost consciousness in his relief in the airport cargo hold, where he’d insisted he be shown the body by the medical examiner, who greeted the plane with him. She was still alive. Of course. He had felt her even over the past few hours, during which he had known more fear and grief than he had in all his life. But who had gone to so much trouble to make him think otherwise? Who wanted him to believe that his daughter was dead?

He nodded his head to the medical examiner. “That’s her,” he said, choking.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Quinn, truly sorry for your loss.”

He nodded, barely able to contain his joy, covering his mouth with his hand. He walked, head bent, through the crowd of police officers who had comprised his escort, back to the waiting limousine. His driver opened the door for him, and he climbed into the darkness, sank into the rich black leather, and let his head fall back and his eyes close. He’d come back from New York just hours before he got the call from the NYPD. He’d come back and found Jenna gone.

Tatiana was to have been the jewel in his crown, priceless, glorious, dazzling in her beauty. The first night he saw her, he’d known that she belonged to him. Her father’s princess, dressed in a black velvet shift with patent-leather ballet slippers. She was still a little girl, but the fullness of womanhood was beginning to show itself in her hips and her tiny breasts. Even at thirteen, she was the envy of every woman in the room. He saw it in their stolen glances, in the shadow of self-consciousness that danced across their eyes as they compared their skin, their bodies, the luster in their hair to Tatiana’s. Of course, there was no comparison. She was one of God’s perfect creations.

She was a miniature of her mother, though Jenna’s beauty had begun to fade even then. Jenna had already started to hate Tatiana in that jealous motherly way. But there was a fierce love there, too. He knew they were a package deal. And there was no length to which he would not have gone, no act too low to make them his. He’d proven that. In the end, Jenna and Tatiana had no choice but to come with him to America. They would have been killed if they had remained in Albania. Or worse … they would have been poor.

Jenna had actually proven herself a suitable mate, uninterested in his personal affairs, unemotional, and possessing a keen business sense. He’d allowed her to keep her interest in American Equities because she proved a valuable liaison when it came to the Albanians. Nathan wanted nothing to do with the ones who didn’t speak English; he couldn’t communicate with them anyway.

And Tatiana grew more stunning every day. It had been easy to turn her head with pretty things and pretty words. Even easier to turn her against Jenna in subtle ways, since an adolescent girl and her mother are natural enemies anyway. Jenna said no; Nathan said yes. Jenna and Tatiana argued; Nathan comforted. They grew closer. Everything was evolving as it was meant to between them. And didn’t she know the power she had over him? Didn’t she know that for her slightest smile, for that sweet, shy glance, he would move the earth for her?

But he didn’t have the kind of control he’d thought he would. The way she threw herself into his arms when he arrived home from work, the way she lounged around in thin pajamas, or in her bikini by the pool … her creamy flesh, her fragrant hair. It was pleasure torture. He’d gotten careless.

Jenna had taken the limo to a charity auction, which he’d declined to attend, giving him an evening alone with Tatiana. He’d rented a movie for them to watch together, and Tatiana made microwave popcorn. She was luminous in a pink T-shirt with a tiny red heart embroidered between her breasts. He could see through her white pajama bottom to her red thong underwear. Her lustrous hair was pulled up into a twist, exposing the delicate skin and graceful lines of her neck. She moved in close to him on the couch and put her head on his lap, balancing the bowl of popcorn on her flat belly. She chattered innocently about something or other going on at school, but he couldn’t hear her because of the blood rushing in his ears. He turned the light off and the movie on. In the darkness, with the light from the television dancing on the walls, he began to stroke her hair. It was an innocent gesture, except that his fingers were on fire, wanting more. He released her hair from the clip and it spilled across his lap. She seemed to move in closer, so he allowed himself to move his hand down over her arm. He did not see or hear a word of the movie in front of them, so full were his senses, so intense the ache in his loins. He was hard as rock, just centimeters from where her head rested on his thigh. He couldn’t stop his hand from touching the exposed flesh of her belly where her T-shirt had ridden up. She didn’t move or jump up or protest, but her whole body stiffened. In a heartbeat, she had gone from total trust and comfort to wariness. He removed his hand. After a moment, she sat up and slid casually to the other end of the couch. He didn’t say a word, did not react in the least, as if it couldn’t matter to him less. But the energy between them had shifted.

After a few more minutes, she said, “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“You don’t want to watch the rest of the movie? Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m tired,” she said quietly, not holding his eyes.

“Okay, sweetheart. Good night.”

She didn’t come over to kiss him on the cheek as she had every previous night; she just walked out of the room and up the grand staircase, looking fragile and small.

In the night, as he lay awake thinking of her sleeping in her bed, he heard her knock on her mother’s bedroom door.

“Can I sleep with you?” he had heard Tatiana say from the doorjamb.

“Yes, darling. What’s wrong?”

“Just a bad dream.”

She seemed to forgive him a little over the next few days, but he never earned her total trust again. And then just a few weeks later, she was gone. He didn’t think she had run away, but he couldn’t be sure. Until now. He’d been so guilt-stricken that he’d never imagined someone had tried to steal his prize. Who would dare? he wondered. And why? With Jenna gone, the answer suddenly seemed so simple. He couldn’t believe what a fool he was.

He considered Lydia Strong for a second and smiled. For a while, he’d believed her to be his one best hope of finding Tatiana. But then she made a mess, getting into places where she had no business, and he realized she had no better lead on Tatiana than he did. He was disappointed and angry. She hadn’t been as easy to handle as Parker or Ignacio. But he’d gotten creative and arranged for an effective distraction. She’d have enough on her hands now to keep her out of his affairs. Meanwhile, he had to find a way to bring his baby home.