Chapter 39 #2
Strangely, he didn’t answer right away, just stared at her with a look she had not seen before. “There was never any question as to my survival. There was only the matter of the price.”
A stretch of silence elapsed between them. She didn’t have to ask the price. She feared she knew all too well. Annette wasn’t sure she could bear the answer.
She saw herself out of the observatory. She worked hard to focus on what she must do next. Any emotion she allowed would only get in the way. She had already set up transportation arrangements for the search. All she had to do now was hook up with Carson. And evade the FBI’s prying eyes.
Oddly enough, Carson appeared to be the only person she could count on at this point.
Images of their physical coupling just a few hours ago had her heart racing.
Don’t think . . . find Dane Drake. He was the one chance Carson had of turning his life around.
Blake, the houseman, nodded to Annette as they passed in the long hall. He carried a tea tray.
Two cups.
She stalled, turned to watch the man move toward his destination.
Did Otis have company? There hadn’t been any other cars in the drive when she’d arrived.
Blake entered the study . . . not the observatory.
Her heart pounding, Annette eased back in that direction. She slipped into the room directly across the hall, leaving the door cracked so that she might get a glimpse of whoever was waiting in the room.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Otis had guests frequently. Usually business associates. She had no right spying on him like this. He would be very displeased if he learned of her behavior.
As if the troubling thoughts had summoned him, he entered her line of sight. Opened the door to the study to go inside. His guest rose from his chair and extended his hand.
Donald Wainwright.
Otis’s archenemy.
What could those two possibly have to discuss?
The answer was simple. If she’d had any doubts, there was her confirmation.
She was the price of Otis’s survival.
When Blake had left the two men alone and the door was closed, she counted to ten, giving Blake time to clear the hall, then made her exit.
She had to find Carson.
Not only was she his only hope, he was hers as well.
Enemies or not, there was one thing Annette had to keep in mind.
There wasn’t a man in power in this city who had not achieved his position without help of some sort from Otis.
Even Carson’s invitation to run for the office of Jefferson County District Attorney would have been a part of the good old boys’ strategy.
He just didn’t see it yet. Drake and Wainwright may have extended the invitation, but she would lay odds that the approval had come from Otis Fleming.
Despite the differences he had with men like Wainwright and the occasional all-out war, Otis owned this city, lock, stock, and barrel.
And all of it was negotiable.
Outside, Annette climbed into the Tahoe she’d used to lose her federal tail.
She had arranged several vehicles in as many locations around the city in the event they were spotted.
Time was clearly running out. As soon as forensics had additional evidence that the .
38 belonged to her, though it most certainly did not, she would be arrested for double murders.
She had to get this done and be out of here before that happened.
She still couldn’t shake the unthinkable—the only man she had ever trusted had sold her out.
Why was she surprised? It wasn’t personal, it was simply business.
As Otis had said, she knew too much. They wanted her out of their lives for good. To maintain his untouchable position, he would facilitate that effort.
As much as she considered her current dilemma to be about ousting her from power, some part of her was dead certain that there was more involved. A deeper cover-up about which she only had snatches of knowledge.
So what if Dane had gone apeshit and murdered Carson’s family?
Wouldn’t it be easier just to off the little son of a bitch?
No matter how she looked at it, she was nearly positive that all of this was connected to something bigger than Dane’s screwup.
The decision to take her down, Stokes, Carson’s sudden fall from grace.
It all revolved around one central motivation.
The question was, what?
Better yet, why?
Frankly, after fifteen years, why did anyone care?
There had to be some part she couldn’t see.
Her cell rang; she dug it from her purse. “Yes.”
“Where should we meet?”
Carson.
She gave him the location of the black Range Rover. They would rendezvous there and take the Rover until the need to change vehicles arose again.
When he didn’t say more, she asked, “Did you learn anything from Elizabeth?” For some reason she despised the woman. Maybe it was the whole wholesome, Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes persona that gagged Annette.
“She doesn’t know where Dane is,” Carson said, frustrated. “But I promised her I would find him.”
How sweet.
“I forgot the two of you once had a thing.” Annette snapped her mouth shut. Hadn’t meant to say that. The idea that it smacked of jealousy irked her to no end.
“Yes, we once had a thing.”
Her mouth went bone dry. “Do you still have a thing?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. What was wrong with her? That she had asked a second idiotic question made her furious. And yet she sat on an emotional ledge awaiting his answer.
“I don’t think so . . . maybe.”
“I’ll see you in ten minutes.” Annette disconnected. She didn’t want to hear any more of that tender emotion in his voice. She was stupid.
Of course a man like Carson Tanner would end up with Little Miss Princess, the pride of Birmingham’s elite. He wasn’t going to feel anything for Annette. Other than the urge for sex perhaps. And she cared nothing for him. Men couldn’t be trusted. Not even the so-called good ones.
She had learned that the hard way.
But then, what did she need with a man? She’d never really cared about sex either way until recently.
Such bad timing.
That was the thing. The whole world, every little detail of every little thing that took place was all about timing. Made the difference between life and death . . . and everything in between.
Her life was over and she was philosophizing. Oh, yes, she was totally, totally screwed.
She sat up a little straighter behind the wheel. But the best thing to do when being screwed was to screw right back. Those rich, powerful bastards had better watch out.
She wasn’t done yet.
Not by a long shot.