by Ciana Stone
Maybe it was better that way. She could imagine his voice to sound just as she wanted. Just as she could imagine him looking like her perfect fantasy image of a rancher. God, he'd never speak to her if he knew all of the fantasies she'd cooked up about him during the lonely nights. The smile faded as the house phone rang. She checked the caller ID. It was her husband. This couldn't be good.
Gotta clean up and fix dinner. Have a good night, Riley.
You too.
Analise leaned back against the kitchen counter. She could either return her husband's call or get clean.
Getting clean won.
It took four rags and a quarter of the bottle of mineral spirits to get all of the stain off, but she finally managed, showered and dressed in a pair of loose gauze cotton pants and an old, oversized t-shirt.
When she returned to the kitchen with the rags secured in a plastic bag, her husband, Rodrick Becke, stood at the center island, a bottle of Scotch on the island and a half-full glass beside it.
"What are you doing here?" She stopped cold, clutching the plastic bag.
"Where's my money?"
"Pardon?" She tried to cover her surprise and the little spike of fear that question generated. An idea occurred to her and she quickly went to the kitchen counter where her phone lay. After picking it up, she accessed the record function and then shoved the phone in the pocket of her pants.
"Don't play dumb. I know you cleaned out half the balance of the Seychelles account and the Belize account is also down fifty percent."
"Oh that." Analise had recovered from the surprise of seeing him standing in the kitchen. "I only took my half."
"Your half?" His shout had her wincing, a fact that annoyed her. She was sick and tired of being afraid, of being lied to, used and treated like a dimwit.
"Yes, my half."
"You don't have a fucking half."
"I do now." She marched around him and through the kitchen to the laundry room. From there, she stepped out into the garage and crammed the plastic bag into the large trash can.
When she turned back toward the house he was blocking the door. "I want my money, Analise."
"It's not your money, Rick."
"The fuck it's not."
"Get out of my way."
"Or what?"
The threatening tone of his voice gave her pause. Would Rick physically hurt her? He'd always been one to fly off the handle, shout, stomp around and even destroy things, but he'd never raised a hand to her.
"Get out of my way."
"Give me my money or you'll be sorry."
"Oh I'm already sorry. Sorry I didn't see what was going on under my nose the last five years. Sorry I didn't realize you and your whole family were a bunch of crooks. Sorry I wasted twenty-five years of my life with a man who has no regard for anyone other than himself. But you know what? I'm tired of being sorry and scared that I'm going to displease you by saying the wrong thing, wearing something you don't like or having friends you don't think meet your social standing. I'm tired of everything about my life and I'm keeping that damn money and starting a new one.
"One that doesn't include you."
"You walk and you'll never see your son again."
Analise pushed past him and returned to the kitchen. "Oh please. David is twenty-two years old and news flash, finished moving to Cambridge two days ago."
"You move and I'll stop payment on his tuition and his apartment."
"Go ahead. That money I took was put into an account in his name. An account you can't touch. His education is paid for and with what he'll have left when he graduates, he will be fine."
"That's my money!"
"Not anymore. Oh, and while we're at it, I transferred all of the money from our two savings accounts here along with the checking account into an account of my own. I figure that's a fair distribution. You take the house and whatever else we own and I take that."
"You fucking bitch."
"Call me what you want, but like I said, I only took half. Actually less than half. You've still got plenty in your offshore accounts, and if the allegations against you and your family's company are true, there's millions hidden somewhere – millions you stole from your clients. So, unless they throw your sorry ass in prison, you and your mistress should be able to live high on the hog In fact, you can do it here just as soon as I leave."
"Leave? Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"None of your damn business. Now get out. I'm finished talking to you."
"This isn't over."
"Oh yeah, it is."
"I'll burn this fucking house to the ground and you in it."
"Oh?" She turned to him with a smile, holding her phone. "Well, we'll see about that."
"What the fuck are you doing?"
She quickly messaged the recording to her attorney and also to her best girlfriend, Katie. "Making sure it's on record just in case anything unfortunate happens to me or this house."
Rick snatched up the glass from the center island and hurled it at her. Analise ducked and the glass smashed into a cabinet, shattering all over the counter top and floor. What the hell? He'd always had a short fuse but this was getting out of hand. And it was scaring her a little. Not that she was going to let him know that so she bolstered her courage and spoke slowly and with as much menace as she could muster.
"Get out or I'm calling the police."
He slung the bottle of Scotch at her and shouted. "You're a fucking bitch. I don't know why I didn't divorce you years ago."
That tore it. She'd ducked the bottle when it bounced off the cabinet door behind her, hit the counter with a crack and then exploded on the tile floor.
"I wish you had. Now get out!"
He gave her a glaring look " You might think you've won, but trust me, you haven't. I'll get even with you, you bitch. When you least expect it. You can take that to the fucking bank."
He then stomped out of the room, tossing one final snipe over his shoulder. "Fuck you."
"Not ever again." She muttered to his back.
A few seconds later she heard the front door slam. She hurried to it to insure it was locked and leaned back against it. She and Rick had been through a few arguments over the years, and while he wasn't above throwing a fit, stomping about and shouting, he'd never been this bad. Whatever was going on in his life, it must be really bad. That thought prompted her to do a quick Google search on her phone. Within seconds she'd found what she wanted and placed a call.
"Hi? Bob's Lock and Key? Is there any chance I could get you out here this evening to change the locks in my house? Someone stole a set of keys and I really would feel more secure if the locks were changed. Oh, okay, yes, I understand. That will be fine. Yes, see you soon."
She wasn't thrilled to pay twice the going rate to get the locks changed but she would feel better knowing that Rick couldn't get in if he decided to come back.
As she busied herself cleaning up the broken glass and liquor, she thought about what a mess her life had become. It was time to start over. David was settled in Cambridge and she'd discussed her plans with him.
He'd encouraged her to do what made her happy. They'd see one another during his breaks and at holidays. He thought it was past time for her to start living for herself instead of in his father's shadow.
Well, that's exactly what she was going to do. Tomorrow she had an appointment to look at a small RV. She had no idea where she wanted to live, but was quite certain it was far, far away from Rick. And she'd always wanted to travel around, see different parts of the country.
Maybe she'd even get an idea for a new book. Her last one had not broken any sales records, but she was finally starting to earn a decent amount each month from her writing. Who knows, maybe she'd even make it down to Texas and meet Riley in person.
Or not. One thing her life had taught her was that fantasy was almost always better than reality. Right now, Riley was a bit of a fantasy. He was kind and had a good sense of humor and she
imagined him as a tall, lanky cowboy with that low center of gravity glide of a walk and a smile that would light up any room he entered.
Chances were, the real Riley would never measure up to her fantasy version.
Her phone rang and she hurried to check the caller ID. "Katie, hi. What's up?"
"OMG, girl why are you not on the phone with the police this very minute? I was going to call them myself if you didn't answer. What an asshole!"
"I'm taking that to mean you listened to the recording I sent you."
"Well, duh! Analise, you've got to get away from that man. I'm serious, honey."
"I know and I am. I promise."
"Okay, OMG, I just remembered! Girl, you have to come to San Antonio in September."
"I do? Why?"
"There's going to be a convention here. I'll send you the link. Lots of great writers and readers. It's only three days but sounds like it will be a blast."
"September? I don't know. I'll think about it. Depends on…well, you know."
"Yeah, I hear ya. When you think you'll be leaving?"
"Soon. I'm going to look at that RV in the morning."
"Analise, have you ever driven an RV?"
"No."
"And you do know how big they are, right?"
"Yes, but I told you, this one is small. You don't have to have a special license. Just perfect for one person."
"Yeah, and you really think you'll be happy out there on the road, all by yourself, staying in campgrounds?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"No room service."
"I can cook, Katie."
"Yeah, so can I but it doesn't mean I like to. And I worry about you being on the road alone."
"I know and I appreciate that but I really want to do this. I need to do it. I've never been on my own, Katie and I want to – I don't know, I want to do something completely unconventional for once."
"Like come to Texas for the convention and see your bestie?"
Analise laughed. "Yeah, something exactly like that. Tell you what, send me the link and I'll check it out. Right now, I've got to find something to eat, I'm starving."
"Okay, hon. Will do. Call me after you see the RV."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you, too."
Analise ended the call and leaned back against the counter with a smile. Leave it to Katie to lift her spirits and present an opportunity. She could take her time on her trip and if she timed it right, she could stop in and spend a couple of days with Katie and then hit the convention.
Then, well maybe she'd think about asking Riley if he wanted to meet. It wasn't like she expected them to take a look at each other and fall madly in love, but despite reality not surpassing fantasy, he had become a really good friend and she'd like to meet him in person.
The doorbell rang and she remembered the locksmith. Hurrying to the door, she dismissed thoughts of Texas and focused on the right now – namely making sure Rodrick Becke didn't set foot in this house again without having to break the damn door down.
Chapter Three
Rodrick closed the lid on his laptop and swiveled in his chair to face the ceiling-to-floor bank of windows behind him. Fifty floors up, his office looked out over New York, sprawled like a decadent whore, a bit rough around some edges but still the most magnificent piece of ass in the brothel.
He'd always thought of New York as his, as if he commanded the city, sitting in his steel and glass tower, moving money across continents, affecting economies, controlling lives and industries. It made him the next thing to a god, and he was addicted to the power it bestowed.
He sighed and stood, jamming his hands into the pockets of his pants. Things were starting to look serious. His father and brother had assured him that no one could prove Becke Ltd was guilty of any wrong-doing. He'd been given assurance that great care had been taken to make sure the family and the company were protected.
It was not what they said that bothered him, as much as what they did not say. His brother Rolf had brought business into the company that was tainted with the stench of organized crime. If it had been only of a domestic variety, it would have boded ill, but Rolf was an ambitious man. Becke Ltd was now in bed with criminal organizations around the globe.
Dirty money was laundered every day. Rolf often laughed that they were the world's most profitable cleaners. There was a time Rodrick had tried to laugh about it, but the truth was, he'd never wanted to be part of that. Sure, he wasn't above juggling the books to put more in his own pocket, but he was very careful to make sure what ‘extra´ he took was taken in small, virtually unnoticeable amounts.
When billions of dollars were trading hands every year, funneling a half of a percent to an off-shore account was child's play. What Rolf had gotten them into could not only land them behind bars, but quite possibly six feet under. Rodrick was getting jumpier by the day, looking for threats at every turn.
With a groan he pulled his hands from his pockets and covered his face, his fingers massaging the orbits of his eyes where a stress headache threatened. Damn Analise. She'd wrecked everything. If she'd left things alone, he could have taken Gina and fled. But now that escape route had been ruined.
Damn Analise.
The sound of his office door closing had him whirling around with his heart pounding. He almost lunged for his desk drawer where he kept the handgun he purchased a few months ago. What met his eyes didn't slow his heart-rate, but the speed had nothing to do with fear. Gina Russo. Just looking at her aroused him. Even now he marveled that she had fallen for him.
Gina was not yet thirty, had the body of a Victoria's Secret model, a face beautiful enough to stop traffic and was, without a doubt, the most passionate, and inventive lover imaginable. There was nothing she wouldn't try and she indulged his every fantasy.
Just looking at her inspired an erection. Rodrick had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Gina. She had appeared in his life during a time when he and Analise were little more than room-mates, navigating the house in ways to avoid running into one another.
Gina had brought laughter, excitement and passion back into his life. He would do anything to keep her.
"Gina, what are you doing here, darling?"
"I was worried." She crossed the room to him, her walk that sensual sway that made a man's eyes move up and down her body. "You were so distracted today at lunch and after that fight you had with—"
He put his fingers to her lips. "Shhh, I told you, it will be fine."
She raised both hands to wrap around his wrist and guide his finger into her perfectly colored and glossed lips. He couldn't stop the reaction of his body to her actions.
When she slid his fingers from her mouth, she dropped his hand and placed hers on his chest, leaning in a bit closer.."I'm frightened, Ricky."
"Of what?"
"My safety. My credit card. The one you got me a few months ago. It was declined today at Macy's. And when I left, two men in a dark sedan followed me at Macy’s, and when I left I was followed by two men in a dark sedan)
"Are you certain they were following you?"
"Yes. They pulled up to the curb when the driver stopped at the penthouse."
Rodrick pulled her into his arms. "I'll figure a way out of this, Gina."
She pushed back to look at him. "You better."
With that she pulled away, hugging herself. "I wake at night in a cold sweat, imagining what kind of financial ruin this could put you in."
She pivoted on one sharp pointed stiletto to face him. "Are you sure you don't know where the money is?"
"Yes, I told you. I've looked but Rolf has me locked out of some parts of the system and—"
"Then find someone who can let you back in! Ricky, you have to do something!"
"I know. And I'm trying. I swear I am. Just give me a little more—"
"No." Gina held up one manicured hand. "I love you, Ricky, but I live in a state of anxiety and I can't go on like this. You have to do it now
or…or I will have to – to walk away."
"No!" He rushed to her, taking her by the arms. "No. You can't leave me."
"I can. I won't have a choice if you don't do something."
I'll fix this Gina. Somehow I'll fix it. I promise. I'll find enough to satisfy them for now until I can figure out where the rest of it is."
"What about the money your wife stole from you? Can't you get that?"
"She put it in an account in her name only."
"But you're her husband."
"That doesn't matter. Unless she dies, I can't touch it."
"So you can't touch it even though you’re married but if she died you could? That doesn't make sense."
"It's because of our wills. Were she to die, her will gives me everything she has, including the money she took."
"Then it's a shame that bitch didn't get run over by a truck today."
"Gina, darling, you don't mean that."
"Oh yes I do. It's her or us, Ricky. Which is more important to you?"
Rodrick pulled Gina into his arms to hide his expression from her. She'd always been able to read him and he had no desire for her to know the chill her words gave. He'd admit that he was furious with Analise for taking the money, but even so, he wouldn't wish death on her. He might have stopped loving her a long time ago, but he didn't have the heart to wish for something like that.
Still, that horrible little voice inside his head said that it would make things a lot easier. If he had that money, he could pacify the people who posed the greatest threat to him. Or he'd have enough to run away with Gina and live comfortably for the rest of his life.
If only he had that money.
*****
Distant lightning drew Riley's attention as he stepped out of his truck in the parking lot of Billy's Bar. The weather forecaster had damn near crowed with the announcement they had a sixty percent chance of rain tonight. Riley would believe it when he saw it. The drought of the last few months was hurting everyone, ranchers and farmers alike.
Were it not for Cotton Creek, which ran right smack dab through his property, he'd probably have lost a lot of his herd. Now the creek was running lower than it had in the last decade. Hoping that distant lightning was the portend of a house- shaking, gully-washer of a storm, he reached inside his truck for his guitar case.
