Deadly Charade

chapter 17



Linda’s breath seized when a man emerged from the shadow of the house and grinned tauntingly at her.

“Going someplace?”

She averted her gaze, pretended she didn’t hear him, and kept walking. He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. Tilting her chin up, she said, “I don’t want trouble.”

He waggled his brows up and down. “You found it anyway.” He reached out to touch her face and she automatically flinched away, hating herself for the involuntary show of fear.

“I’m a friend of Tony’s,” she said quickly, hoping the lie would help rather than hurt her.

“Is that right?” the man said. He dropped his hand. “You should choose your friends more carefully.”

“What do you mean? He runs the show here now, doesn’t he?”

“Maybe. For now.”

“You planning on changing that? Because he murdered Guapo to keep his territory. What makes you think he won’t do the same to you?”

He shrugged then grinned. “Maybe because I know who his friends are now and a man who cares about others is a man with a weakness. You should—”

“Carl, what’s going on?”

At the sound of Tony’s voice, Linda whirled around and barely managed to suppress a sigh of relief. Tony was wearing a pair of jeans but nothing else, and though she could see he was still slightly unsteady on his feet, he glared at them—at her—with hostility.

“Who the hell is she?” he snapped.

The guy Tony had called Carl laughed, the sound laden with nerves. “She said she was a friend of yours.”

“She’s no friend of mine. Finish with her fast. I have a delivery for you to make.” Without even looking at her again, he turned and stalked back to the house.

She watched him with disbelief. He had to know that Carl had stopped her. And that leaving her in his company could be dangerous to her.

Carl glared at her. “Lying bitch. Who were you here to see?”

“She was here to see me,” Justine said. “Our business is over. Let her go, Carl.”

“Why’d she say she was a friend of Tony’s?”

“She wants to be but he’s not interested.”

“Hmm...I’m plenty interested.”

“You’ve got a job to do,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “I’ll come find you when I have some free time, lady.”

With a lingering look, he left. Swallowing hard, Linda turned to Justine. “Thank you,” she said.

The other woman smiled tightly and shook her head. “Don’t thank me. I won’t interfere again. I suggest you don’t come back here. You’re not wanted.”

No, she thought, she wasn’t. Tony had dismissed her quite easily, leaving her to the hands of one of his lackeys. She’d gladly give him and Justine what they wanted.

She wouldn’t be back.

* * *

Tony had thought it was the hardest thing he’d ever done—letting Linda walk away from him and out of the dingy house that was now his home. Especially now, after they’d made love. She’d expressed her faith in him and he wasn’t being watched by guards. He was a free man. Free to do whatever he wanted. And what he wanted—who he wanted—was Linda.

He’d still managed to let her go.

But then Justine had told him that Carl was hassling Linda. He’d had to do something, but, not wanting to make matters worse, he’d forced himself to pretend he didn’t care and this time walked away himself. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d felt an intense urge to rip Carl away from her. To pound on him. But he’d hung back and waited, ready to move fast if Carl didn’t follow him quickly enough. But luckily enough the man had and Tony had sent him off to make some runs.

As for Linda?

He should have been happy with the fact she’d made it past Carl unscathed, but he couldn’t leave it at that. She actually believed he’d made love to Justine after leaving her bed.

And even though that’s what he’d wanted her to believe, even though driving her away had been exactly what he’d wanted, he’d changed his mind. He couldn’t let her believe it. Not that.

At seven that night, almost twenty-four hours after being there and just two hours before he was supposed to meet with the Rapture supplier, Tony drove to Linda’s house. Standing outside, he peeked into her living-room window.

She sat on the sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest, the television on. She’d buried her face in her hands and her body shook with sobs.

Damn it.

The sight of her pain, the pain that he’d caused her, filled him with regret. He turned to stride toward the door. To knock. To demand she let him inside. But then her phone rang.

He froze as she wiped her tears, took several deep breaths then picked it up.

Since she’d cracked her window open to let in the breeze, he could just barely make out what she was saying. But he did hear the name “Neil.”

He frowned. Neil Christoffersen. The suit who was panting after her.

The man who could offer her so much more than Tony ever could, starting with a clean past and a bright future. Both of which would serve her well as a judge.

Rage and denial filled him, but what could he deny. It was true. Between the two of them, Neil was definitely the better man for her. All he had to do was look at the drying tear streaks on her face to know that.

They made small talk and he was about to turn away and leave when he heard her mention his name.

He stiffened.

“I went to see him. I know, I know. It was stupid of me. I saw his girlfriend, too. She was on the phone when I left. She didn’t know I was listening and I...I think Tony was telling the truth about killing Guapo so he could take over his business.” She sighed. “Yeah, I know what I heard potentially makes me a witness, but it’s hearsay and it doesn’t fall into any of the exceptions, so there’s no point in putting me on the stand.” She paused. “He’s said incriminating remarks to me, yes, but...I don’t know, Neil. I don’t know if I can actually testify against him.” She bent her head and Tony’s fists clenched at the agony that she must be going through.

“I’ll call if I need anything. Thanks.”

She hung up the phone and once again stared at the television with a blank face.

He simply watched her. Soaked her in. He stood there, unsure what to do. Should he go in and tell her the truth, or at least part of it, just like he’d planned? Or should he do the right thing and let her get on with her life with a good man?

A faint noise coming from the other side of the house disturbed his mental gymnastics. His first thought was—maybe Yee had sent some cops to check on Linda just like he’d promised. But a cop would be doing a drive-by in a patrol car or would be coming up the walkway to knock on her door, not sneaking around the side of her house.

Unless of course, the cop was a dirty one.

Just because Guapo was dead didn’t mean the dirty connections he’d built had died along with him.

Slowly he moved to investigate, tensing when he saw a hulking figure in black clothes and a mask.

Damn it, what was going on? Was this a random break-in? No, that would be too coincidental. This had something to do with the shooting at the courthouse. The guy was here to hurt Linda. The question was whether it was because of him.

* * *

Linda heard the sound of struggling outside and jumped to her feet. She ran to the window, looked out and gasped.

Tony was outside her house, wrestling with a much larger man wearing a freaking ski mask. Quickly she retrieved her Taser and ran outside. She turned the corner just in time to see the larger man punch Tony in the face, then kick his bad leg. Tony crumpled, but even as he did he hung on to the man, refusing to let go. Though she pointed the Taser, she wasn’t convinced she could hit the other man and not Tony.

“Stop or I’ll shoot,” she yelled.

The man looked up before he took off, jumping the side fence.

Linda ran to Tony.

He was bleeding from the nose and mouth, but otherwise his coloring was a pale sickly white. She knelt beside him, cradling his head in her lap. “Tony! What are you doing here? Who was that?”

He closed his eyes, struggled to breathe, then gasped, “Wanted to talk to you. But he was here. Danger.”

More dangerous than him? she thought. She really wasn’t sure that was possible.

“Let’s—” She stopped before inviting him inside. She didn’t want to leave him lying here, but it wouldn’t be smart to invite him back into her house, either. “Stay here. I’ll call the police.”

He shook his head. “No. No police.”

“Tony, we need to report this. You didn’t do anything wrong, so you don’t have to worry about being out on bail. I’ll explain that you—”

He gripped her arm tighter, which made her gasp. “No police...damn it...”

She wasn’t imagining the urgency in his grip or his tone. “Why?”

“He...the man. He—he was here to hurt you. And he might be a cop.”





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