Flawless Betrayal

by Rachel Woods

  Following a long, exhausting, somewhat successful meeting with the bank, the last thing he’d wanted to hear was his family nagging him about Spencer being the wrong woman for him, especially when those warnings were coming from Jared, who usually stayed out of Sione’s love life. Normally, Sione could shrug off his family’s dire predictions, but Jared was a calm, calculating detective, not prone to melodrama or histrionic hand-wringing. Jared was all about facts, and he had presented his case against Spencer in a logical, rational manner that was sobering and hard to dismiss.

  “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this,” Jared had said after a few beers and some trivial banter. They were sitting out on the terrace behind the owner’s casita, watching the sun go down.

  “Then don’t say it,” Sione advised.

  “I think I need to,” Jared said, sitting his beer bottle on the ground. “I think you need to know the truth about Spencer.”

  “You been talking to DJ?”

  “No,” Jared said. “I’ve been talking to William Bermudez.”

  “William Bermudez?” Hearing the name, Sione almost flinched, remembering the sweat-soaked son of a bitch, remembering things he hadn’t wanted to believe, things he’d tried to forget.

  “The guy who told you where to find Spencer when you insisted on risking your life to look for her.”

  “What about him?” Sione asked, trying to keep his tone bored, with a trace of annoyance, but his heart was pounding.

  Sione nodded, trying to ignore the effects of the name that still had the power to infuriate him. What enraged Sione even more was Spencer’s connection to Ben—an indirect connection through Bermudez, who’d been her contact when she’d arrived in Belize to do Ben Chang’s bidding. Spencer had never met Ben, but Sione hated that Ben had been the reason for Spencer’s trip to San Ignacio. Like some sadistic puppet master pulling the strings, Ben had forced Spencer to do favors for him, deadly instructions given to her by Bermudez, assignments that had resulted in the twisted, ritualistic murders of three women.

  “You know Bermudez worked for Ben Chang, right?”

  Sione nodded and took another sip of the beer, wishing he had something a lot stronger.

  “You ever wonder how Bermudez knew that Spencer had been kidnapped and was tied up in that shack?”

  “All I wanted to know was where Spencer was so I could go get her,” Sione said. “I wasn’t really interested in how he knew where she was.”

  “Maybe you should have been interested,” Jared suggested.

  Sione had stared at his cousin. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Leaving the center island, Sione walked toward the breakfast nook, an airy, sun-splashed octagonal space with wide windows overlooking the expansive backyard.

  He didn’t want to think about what Jared had told him or how the information had led his cousin to believe Spencer was a liar who shouldn’t be trusted. Not because what Jared had said couldn’t possibly be true, but because it could. Spencer might have lied to him about more things than Sione had initially thought. Which wouldn’t really be so shocking. He knew she hadn’t been truthful with him about her trip to Belize. But—some lies were worse than others. Some lies were impossible to recover from.

  “Morning.”

  Sione turned. Dressed in a short silk kimono, Spencer headed toward the refrigerator, shuffling across the tile floor in fluffy slippers and rubbing her eyes.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I’ll get some coffee started.”

  “Don’t want any coffee,” she mumbled, opening the refrigerator.

  “You don’t?” That was odd. Usually, Spencer needed a large cup of straight black Sumatra blend to start her day.

  “No, I don’t,” she said, and when she left the refrigerator, closing it with her foot, she was holding the remaining two-thirds of a key lime pie he’d picked up for dessert earlier in the week.

  Chuckling slightly, he said, “Key lime pie for breakfast.”

  Shrugging, Spencer got a spoon from a cabinet drawer, took a seat at one of the stools around the island, and scooped out a large hunk of the pie.

  Sione went back to the bowl of egg whites he’d abandoned. “Are you okay?”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be okay?” she asked and shoveled another spoonful of pie into her mouth.

  “Because you’re eating pie for breakfast.”

  Rolling her eyes, she carved out another scoop.

  Sione cleared his throat, picked up the whisk, and whirled it around half-heartedly. “And because last night…”

  “What about last night?”

  “Just didn’t seem like…”

  “Didn’t seem like what, John?” she asked, licking the back of her spoon.

  “Didn’t seem like you were in the mood to make love.”

  Spencer coughed as the pie she was about to swallow lodged in her throat.

  “Want some water?” John asked.

  Nodding, Spencer managed a few more fake coughs. As John walked to the refrigerator, she took a deep breath, thinking about how to respond to him. She had to be very careful even though his comment pissed her off. She had to watch her tone, though, because she didn’t want to lose the love of her life.

  “It wasn’t that I wasn’t in the mood,” she said, hoping to sidestep the issue. “I was just…”

  Memories of the intimacy issues seized her. Last night, the intrusive thoughts of Ben had threatened her lovemaking with John. For a moment, Spencer had worried she wouldn’t be able to take him all in, and it would have been Ben Chang’s damn fault. Somehow, she knew Ben would have mocked her if he knew his patronizing advice had almost derailed her desire for John.

  Sione would never forgive you if you made a mistake, sweet girl. He would never understand your choices, and he would condemn you for them.

  Spencer shook her head, wary, desperate to get Ben out of her thoughts. She didn’t want to think about the mistakes she’d made. There had been so many, too many. Starting with her decision to have dinner with Ben Chang when she’d first met him, lifetimes ago. It had been a somewhat mercenary decision, based on the designer shoes she’d noticed him wearing. She’d thought he might be a good prospect to “date” even though he wasn’t a dirty old geezer, her usual mark. As she’d enjoyed the duck confit, microgreens, and sweetbreads, she chose not to slip a few drops of GHB into his wine or to steal from him.

  Not dating Ben that night had been a stupid mistake.

  Her decision to date Ben several months later had been another stupid mistake. Of course, now she realized the ultimate mistake had been not getting up and walking away from Ben when he’d sat next to her on that park bench in front of the Houston City Hall reflecting pool.

  “Spencer…?”

  Jolted, she glanced at him. John was giving her a skeptical look, waiting for an answer. She had to come up with something to get him off the subject. Something that wouldn’t invite further conversation about an issue she didn’t want to deal with right now—marriage and how to explain why she didn’t want to get married. She didn’t know how to explain why she couldn’t get married.

  “I was just tired,” she said, the only lame excuse she could come up with.

  “You sure that’s what it was?” he asked.

  “Well, if it wasn’t,” she said, “then what do you think it was?”

  “I was hoping you would tell me,” he said. “Hoping you would be honest with me.”

  “You say that like you think I wouldn’t be honest with you,” she said. “You sound like your mother.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “Like you don’t trust me,” she said, and finished the last of the pie, still craving the sweet tanginess. “Like you think I’m going to lie to you. That’s what your mother said, I’m a liar and—”

  “My mother said that? When?”

  “Last month, when I went back to Belize with you,” she said, her voice rising. “I came down to the kitchen, and she start
s telling me that I’m not good enough for you. She said you’re only interested in my looks.”

  His frown deepened, turned to a scowl. “What?”

  “She said our relationship is just about sex,” she said, struggling to manage the wayward, escalating emotions and failing miserably. “You like me because I look good. But, one day, you’re going to wake up and realize that you’re no longer interested in these tits and this ass.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “You know that’s not true.”

  “Your mother said I should leave before you kick me out and I end up depressed and feeling like a damn fool,” she said, feeling even more irrational as she thought, incongruously, about licking the residual graham cracker crust and smears of key lime filling from the glass pan.

  “She said … what?”

  “Your mother is not the only one who thinks that,” she said, her voice rising again, in volume and volatility. “All of your cousins think that. And your aunts and uncles. And that’s just your Belizean relatives. I’m sure if you took me to that island where you grew up, your Tongan relatives would take one look at me and think the same thing. After all, what else is a girl with big boobs and a nice ass good for except—”

  “You really believe that?” John asked.

  “I don’t really know what to believe,” Spencer snipped.

  “Maybe you should believe me,” John said. “Maybe you should believe what I say instead of—”

  “Maybe you should tell me what you like about me besides the big boobs and nice ass.” Spencer dropped the spoon into the empty glass pie pan, wincing at the cacophony of metal against glass.

  Pulling Spencer into his arms, Sione kissed her and then said, “My uncle Siosi told me to find the woman God wanted me to be with, and I did when I found you.”

  “Are you sure?” Her tone was dubious.

  “You don’t think you’re that woman?”

  “The woman God wants you to be with?” She shook her head. “I know I’m not. I can’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” She looked away.

  “Don’t let my mother upset you,” he said. “She’s wrong.”

  “Or maybe she’s right,” Spencer said.

  “Why do you think you’re not good enough for me?”

  “Because you’re, like, the perfect guy.” She gazed up at him. “You know you are.”

  “What makes you think I’m so perfect?” he asked. “You think I haven’t done stuff that I regret? You think I haven’t done things that I’m ashamed of?”

  “What?” She gave him a skeptical gaze. “You mean you broke some girl’s heart or something?”

  “No, I…”

  Not some girl’s heart, Sione thought. Her neck. Maybe. He still wasn’t sure. Multiple gunshot wounds to the face. Throat slit. Stabbed several times in the chest. Sione had wanted to end Moana’s miserable life. He’d hoped he had killed her. Knowing he might not have been responsible for Moana’s death filled him with an emotion he couldn’t identify. Maybe regret? Possibly relief?

  “John?”

  Ignoring the disturbing memories, Sione said, “What I love about you, even more than the big boobs and nice ass, which, trust me, I absolutely love, is that you are courageous, tenacious, resilient, supportive, loyal, compassionate, caring—”

  “You don’t have to say things you don’t mean to make me feel better about myself.”

  “Why do you think I don’t mean it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you do, but…”

  “But you don’t think you deserve to be loved or that anyone could ever love you because of how your mother treated you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about my mother,” she said, pulling away from him.

  Sione pulled her back, tightening his arms around her. “I don’t either. I want to talk about the eight-letter word which symbolizes love, devotion, and commitment forever.”

  Sighing, Spencer squirmed in his embrace, her expression furtive and frustrated.

  “Wait, I didn’t tell you what else I love about you besides the big boobs and nice ass.”

  Glancing up at him, she seemed suspicious but willing to listen.

  “I love you because you are a loving woman who cares about other people,” he said, and then stopped for a moment to kiss her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. “You’re smart and you definitely have your own opinions, but you’re not judgmental. You’re someone I can trust, someone who will help me be a better person.”

  “You know that’s not me, John,” she said, frowning. “That’s who you want Mrs. Tuiali’i to be.”

  “And that’s who you are,” he said, staring at her. “You are who I want to be Mrs. Tuiali’i.”

  3

  The Woodlands, Texas

  Carlton Woods Gated Community

  “Did she tell you about the key lime pie for breakfast?” Rae asked, laughing as she took a swig of her mimosa.

  “Yes, and I couldn’t believe it,” Shady said. “He had to have been suspicious.”

  “He was distracted,” Spencer said. “The night before, we’d had sex, but it was more catastrophic than cataclysmic. Took a while for the earth to start moving. And then he confronted me about it.”

  “And you just wanted to eat some damn key lime pie,” Rae said.

  “Absolutely!” Spencer said, laughing a little. “I was, like, can I just eat this pie in peace? I mean, practically every night, I’m Cowgirl Spencer, in the saddle.”

  Shady giggled, and Rae rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t know why he wants to bitch because I just happened to not be in the mood to have that damn elephant trunk shoved up my twat,” Spencer complained and then grabbed another honeydew melon cube, wrapped a strip of prosciutto around it, and popped it in her mouth.

  “Oh, Spencer,” Shady admonished, shaking her head as she picked up the glass of lemonade on the coaster in front of her and then took a sip.

  “What do you mean, ‘Oh, Spencer’?” Rae gave Shady a pointed stare.

  “Don’t have to be so vulgar,” Shady said.

  “Whatever, Shady,” Rae said, rolling her eyes.

  Ignoring Rae, Shady looked at Spencer. “What did he say when you asked him what he liked about you besides your looks?”

  “He said everything I wanted to hear,” Spencer said. “And then he said something that I couldn’t believe.”

  “What did he say?” Rae asked.

  “He didn’t say it explicitly.” Spencer amended. “But I could read between the lines. I think he wants to marry me.”

  Shady squealed and clapped her hands. “I knew it! I knew he was going to ask you to marry him.”

  “Did you say yes?” Rae asked, her gray eyes dancing with a delighted excitement.

  “Were y’all listening? I said I think he wants to marry me,” Spencer said. “I didn’t say he proposed.”

  “Well what exactly did he say?” Rae asked.

  “He said that I was who he wanted Mrs. Tuiali’i to be,” Spencer said, her heart pounding just as it had yesterday, when John first said those words. She hadn’t really known how to respond and was thankful when John kissed her, scooped her into his arms, and took her upstairs to their bedroom. As he made love to her, she couldn’t help thinking John was wrong about her. She couldn’t be Mrs. Tuiali’i. She didn’t know how to be the wife John deserved, and she couldn’t stomach the thought of disappointing him.

  What terrified her even more was the fear of becoming like her mother.

  She didn’t want to get married and turn into “that wife”.

  “He’s going to propose,” Shady said. “I just know it. I can tell he’s crazy about you.”

  “Well, if John asks me to marry him, then …” The thought of a proposal filled Spencer with panic, made her feel dizzy and faint.

  “Then you better say yes,” Rae commanded.

  “What else would she say except yes?” Shady asked.

  �
��I would say that I can’t,” Spencer said, shaking her head.

  “What do you mean you can’t?” Rae asked.

  “You have to,” Shady insisted. “You love him. He loves you. Marriage is the next step.”

  “I don’t believe in marriage,” Spencer said. “Y’all know that. And you know why.”

  “Yeah, and it’s a very stupid reason,” Rae said. “What the hell is “that wife” anyway?”

  “Spence, you can’t let the past dictate your future,” Shady said.

  “Enough about marriage, okay? It’s not going to happen,” Spencer said. “Besides, I have bigger problems.”

  Standing in the butler’s pantry, Sione stood still, listening.

  He felt like a spy and a sneak, like some paranoid jealous boyfriend, trying to catch his girlfriend admitting she’d cheated on him. Which Sione wouldn’t have been worried about, and probably could have handled, if that was what Spencer was hiding from him. He doubted it. Still, he wanted to know what she and her sisters were talking about.

  Minutes ago, he was heading into the kitchen when he’d heard them. Just before he stepped over the threshold, Spencer had said something about an elephant trunk, and he’d stopped, amused and curious about their conversation.

  When things turned to marriage, his heart had sped up a bit. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but he was anxious to get more insight into Spencer’s thoughts about marriage. From their conversation yesterday, Sione had started to suspect she was against the idea. Those suspicions had been confirmed when Spencer had told her sisters she couldn’t marry him. But why? Her sisters seemed to know, but they hadn’t elaborated or expounded on Spencer’s issues with holy matrimony. He’d been hoping Spencer would explain her views, but instead, she’d mentioned some “bigger problem.”

  “A cell phone?” Shady was saying.

  “No, not just a cell phone. A burner.” Spencer said.