It hadn’t taken her long to realize that Boris didn’t want a wife or a baby. He’d done his own thing, often acting as if neither of them existed. For years, she’d been aware that he’d been cheating on her and a big part of her just didn’t care. As long as he paid the bills, allowing her to be a full-time mother to Ireland and didn’t sleep in her bed, she’d been fine.
Then he met someone—a former model named Shina, who was a lot younger than him. It wasn’t long before Shina began making demands of his time, as well as his money. He’d come home one day and, just out of the blue, asked her for a divorce. He told her that she could keep the house as long as she gave him his share of the equity in it.
Boris’s parents, disappointed in the way their son had treated her and their only grandchild, had helped her hire a good divorce attorney. In the end, after it was proven thatBoris had committed adultery during most of their marriage, even going so far as to establish a bank account for his mistress, the judge had ordered that all the money Boris thought he’d get from the equity of their home would be used to establish a college fund for Ireland. That was in addition to the hefty child support payments he was ordered to pay each month.
What really made him blow a gasket was when the judge also declared that Rylee was entitled to a part of his pension and 401K. When Shina learned Boris was no longer the sugar-daddy she’d thought she was getting, she dropped him like a hot potato.
With Shina no longer in the picture--and seeing it was cheaper to keep her--Boris had begged Rylee to take him back. Of course, that was out of the question. Instead, she got a job and decided she no longer needed the stress of having a cheating husband in her life.
Rylee had stopped loving Boris when she’d found out about his first affair. And when she realized he’d never change his ways, she’d decided that the only thing she needed in her life was Ireland. After the experiences she’d had, the last thing she wanted was another man.
And so, she and her daughter had moved on with their lives. Rylee rarely dated, and when she did, it was on a group date with other singles from church. It was easier that way. But now that Ireland was away at college, she’d started to get a little lonely. Her in-laws, who she still adored, had even encouraged her to get out more. So had Ireland and her own parents, who had retired and moved to Florida. But so far, she just wasn’t feeling it.
As she went to the laundry room to fold towels, her thoughts shifted back to Frazier Connelly. Nowhim,she had definitely felt that day. Other than those sexy actors who often flashed across her television screen, he was the first man she had noticed in a long time. There had been a lot about Mr. Connelly that had caught her attention. He was handsome, suave and debonair…
And this traditional girl was way out of his league.
She’d seen some of the women at work fan-girling over him, as if he was some celebrity. And, given how often he appeared in the local papers, he probably was. She heard whispers about him in the halls, whenever there was an article written about him in the society column, usually accompanied by a photo of him with a supermodel or debutante on his arm. But now that she’d seen Frazier Connelly up close, she could understand why he drew so much feminine interest. He had definitely had hers today.
But now that she was home--and no longer floating on a cloud, but had her feet flat on the floor as she folded towels—she could breathe again. It was unlikely that she and Frazier Connelly would cross paths again. After all, she wouldn’t be working at his company for much longer.
And that was a good thing. Because she’d never been so tempted to kiss a man in her life.
LENNOX COULDN’T SLEEP.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the sound of gunfire and remembered the scent of bodies burning in the car that had exploded. She was exhausted, but she was too terrified to sleep.
Easing up in bed, she glanced around. The room was dark. The one window was covered by thick curtains that didn’t allow a shred of light to come through. The only brightness in the room was the flashlight on her phone. She’d left it on when she went to bed, not wanting to be in total darkness.
When she’d first woken up hours ago, she tried to think of good things and better times-- her grandmother coming to live with them after her mother’s death and teaching her how to bake cookies, her father coming home after his many army deployments.
She even thought about her mother, remembering the pleasant moments she’d had with her before she’d died. Her mother’s favorite color had been purple, which was probably the reason she liked purple, too.
But no matter what good thoughts she tried to fill her mind with, she couldn’t get past all the death she’d seen the day before…or the fact that so many people had wanted to kill her.
Seeing that getting a good night’s sleep would be a challenge, if not impossible, she shifted back down in bed and stared up at the ceiling. She thought back to the way Roland had handled her meltdown. While he’d been a bit blunt, she’d appreciated his strength. She’d needed it.
She wasn’t the type to give into weakness of any kind—at least, not usually. As a medical examiner, she routinely handled dead bodies and not many of them died in a peaceful manner. And yet today, she’d almost lost it. Today, she’d discovered that what she knew about someone she’d loved, as well as someone she had admired and respected, had been a lie. Would there be even more lies and duplicities uncovered? Was there a clue in DeWalt’s box, as the FBI assumed?
A part of her wished she’d gone through that box before now. But then, maybe if she’d done so--and found something questionable—she’d be dead already.
She knew the agents were wondering where that box was since they’d obviously looked for it at the crime scene. They might even assume she was traveling with it.
The people looking for her probably thought the same thing.
Her thoughts shifted to Steve. The knowledge that he had injected DeWalt with something guaranteed to kill him… It was too much to think about. Especially considering the sympathy card he’d played last week at the convention, wiping tears from his eyes when he’d told her how much he missed DeWalt. How could anyone be so evil? So heartless?
She didn’t want to believe Steve had always been that way. Otherwise, what would that say about her judgement? But if that was the case, what could have made a good, decent human being so corrupt? Deep down she knew the answer--greed and power.
Deciding to go to the bathroom, she slid out of bed and using her phone’s flashlight, she tried finding her way around. But when she pushed her luggage aside, it fell flat to the floor with a bang.
She had to fight back a scream when her bedroom door flew open and a shirtless Roland stood there, a Glock in his hand.
• • •
Trying to calm her erratic heart rate, she quickly said, “I’m fine, Roland. You can put your gun away.”
“What happened?” he asked, slowly lowering his weapon, as if he wasn’t totally convinced, and then rubbing a hand down his face when he was.