“I’m telling you, it’s not true,” he said. “None of it. Not the notes, not the groping, or the supposed sex she says we had. I wouldn’t ever do that to you, or any woman. I don’t have it in me. I thought you knew me better.”
He seemed sincere.
And part of her was inclined to believe him.
Was it possible her sister had played a nefarious game?
And if she had, why?
“I don’t know why your sister wanted to tear us apart,” he continued, “but whatever her reasons were, she succeeded.”
“This is a lot more than a simple prank. Messing with the lives of two people. I can’t believe she could be so vicious. I just can’t.”
“Ask yourself this—if I wanted to be with her so bad, why wasn’t I with her after you and me broke up? What was stopping us?”
“She said she saw you a few times, and then she started seeing someone else.”
“Look at me, Quinn. Just once. Look at me. Not past me, not through me, at me.”
She refused.
He tried again.
“Quinn, if you ever loved me—”
Her head rotated like a wind-up toy set on the lowest speed. His eyes glistened when they met hers, the same eyes she’d fallen in love with as a teen. The same eyes she’d never forgotten. He was on the brink of losing it, allowing her to see something she hadn’t seen in another man in a long time: raw, honest emotion.
“When you found out I was marrying Marcus, why did you let me marry him?” she asked. “Why didn’t you fight for me? For us?”
“The way I saw it, if you loved me, you would have never married him in the first place.”
Looking at him now, one thing was painfully clear. There was a good chance she’d been wrong about him the whole time.
CHAPTER 13
Astrid and Eugene were reclining back on the seats of Eugene’s convertible when Bo and Quinn returned from their heart-to-heart on the mountain. Judging by the slurred sounds emanating from Astrid’s mouth when Quinn passed by, she’d downed more than her fair share of alcohol, even though the sun wasn’t fully gone yet. Astrid shifted positions when she saw Bo, her face visibly startled to see him on speaking terms with Quinn again.
Quinn savored the moment.
That’s right, crane your neck. Look. Take a long, hard look.
Astrid’s finger danced like a firefly out the car window. “Well, look at zat, zee old love birds are talking again. How zweet. When are you’re gonna come ssstalk to me, Bo?”
Bo whipped around, his face rigid.
Quinn clasped his wrist. “It doesn’t matter what she says anymore, Bo. I don’t need to hear her made-up version of the truth.”
“You might not, but I deserve an explanation. We both do.”
“She’s been drinking. Maybe you should talk to her later, when she’s ...”
It occurred to Quinn that no time ever seemed like the right time when it came to Astrid.
“Fine, I’ll let it ride until tomorrow,” he said. “But once she sobers up, I will get the truth out of her.”
“Bo, come herrre,” Astrid slurred. “I need ta tell ya somethin’.”
“Tell me what?”
Astrid pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh ... it’s a secret. Our little secret. Just between you and me.”
Astrid may have been talking to Bo, but the jab was directed at Quinn. The combination platter of Astrid cackling like a delirious hyena and her incessant heckling pushed Bo over the edge. He yanked Astrid out of the convertible, shoving her against the hood of the car.
“Ooh, if you wanted to get zis close to me, all zoo had to do was ask,” Astrid said.
“Shut your mouth,” Bo replied.
“What’s gotten into you?” Astrid squealed. “What’s thisss about?”
When Eugene’s brain finally kicked in, his mouth opened and liquid courage came flowing out. “Hey, friend. You have no right putting your hands on my woman.”
Bo’s head reeled around. “I suggest you mind your business, friend.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Eugene spat.
It was obvious he was as half-witted as he was rich. In stature, Eugene stood a good six inches shorter than Bo, feeding into the short-man, flashy-car stereotype. And in build, Eugene’s significantly older frame looked flaccid next to Bo’s toned, athletic body.
Astrid squirmed, trying to break free of Bo’s grip. “Why you squeezzzing me so tight, Bo?”
“Tell her the truth, Astrid,” Bo said. “The real truth, no more lies.”
“Dunno what you’rrre talking about.”
“Stop messing around. You know exactly what you did to break us up.”
“I didn’t do nussing, and I’m not sssayin’ nussing.”
“Enough is enough, Astrid.” Bo looked at Quinn. “Hop in the truck. The three of us are going for a ride. This whole mess is getting settled right now.”
Astrid wriggled one hand free, pushed a finger onto his face. “Don’t threaten me, Bo.
I’m not going anzeewhere wizz you two.”
Bo yanked on Astrid’s arm, dragging her toward the truck.
“Let go of her,” Eugene yelled. “Now!”
Eugene slammed the car door, making a beeline for Astrid. Quinn intercepted, stepping in front of Eugene, who gripped Quinn’s shoulders, attempting to thrust her out of the way.
Bo’s expression changed as soon as Eugene touched her, something she saw Astrid notice too.
“Wait ... hang ... hold on,” Astrid said. “Everyone stop. I’ll tell you what youse wantsss to know. Just stop it. All of you.” She turned to Quinn. “Isss true. I made it up. I lied. I never ssslept with Bo. He never wanted to be with me.”
“What’s happening here?” Eugene asked. “What’s all this about?”
“It’s about the past,” Quinn said. “The one I warned you to stay out of. You starting to see why now?”
Astrid slapped herself on the forehead. “Man. I’m going a regret thisss tomorrow.”
Even after hearing Astrid’s unsympathetic admission, it was almost impossible for Quinn to come to reality. “I don’t understand, Astrid. What about the notes you showed me?”
“Forged, dummy. I trazzed over letters I found that he’d written you until I had hisss handwriting perfect.”
“Astrid,” Eugene said, “tell me you didn’t. Tell me you aren’t this cruel.”
Astrid ignored Eugene, cocked her head to the side, laughing like Eugene was an idiot just like the rest of them. “It was just a stupid joke. Seriously, Quinn. You’re sooo gullible. It was easy.”
A stupid joke?
Quinn glanced at Eugene. “Has Astrid told you she’s been married before?”
“Shut up, Quinn!” Astrid shouted.
Eugene stretched a hand toward Astrid, trying to silence her, his eyes focused on Quinn. “I know all about her failed marriage. Hell, been through one of those myself. Who hasn’t been cheated on? If this is your way of trying to settle a score with her because you’re angry, you’re wasting your time. I made it clear from the beginning—there were to be no secrets between us, and there are none.”
Eugene’s enduring belief that Astrid could be trusted was something she could no longer abide. “No secrets, huh? You might be interested to know Astrid’s ex-husband wasn’t the one who did the cheating. She was.”
CHAPTER 14
Quinn sat on the sofa in the apartment a few hours later, gazing at the shadowy figure looming in the hallway. The shadow wasn’t talking. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
A far soberer Astrid stepped into the light. “You wouldn’t have let me in if I did.”
“You’re right. How did you get in here? The door’s locked.”
“I know the code.”
Quinn made a mental note to change it before a subsequent unwanted intrusion happened in the future. “Why are you here?”
“Where’s Jacob?”
“Ruby stopped by to spen
d some time with him. She asked if she could take him for the night. He was happy to see her, and he wanted to go, so I let him.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Determined to honor both Evie and Roman’s memory, Quinn had spoken to Ruby about pressing Jacob for information. Ruby promised it wouldn’t happen again. Quinn believed her. She wanted to believe her, at least. Even if she didn’t, it wasn’t like she had any legal rights on him. Not yet.
“Why are you here, Astrid?”
“Do you hate me for what I did? Is that why you outed me to Eugene?”
“Does it matter? I mean, really ... do you care?”
Quinn stared into her sister’s face. It had softened, not to the point of full remorse, but it was teetering. She thought about the first time the two of them played Candyland together, thought about the time Astrid discovered a snake slithering through the grass in the backyard. Astrid had been so scared. And even though their mother had been close by, it was Quinn’s arms she’d run to for safety that day. When had Astrid become so cunning? Why had it come to this?
“I should hate you, but I don’t,” Quinn said. “Whatever grievances we had in the past, no matter how angry I am or have been, we don’t have to be friends, but you’re still my sister.”
To be clear, Astrid wasn’t Quinn’s biological sister. She’d first come into their family as a foster child at the age of seven after Quinn’s parents felt morally compelled to become part of the state’s foster care program. Up to then, Quinn had been an only child, and she’d liked it that way. The introduction of a bratty, ill-mannered girl she was forced to treat like a sister didn’t seem fair. Astrid consumed her parents’ time. Too much time. A single outburst from Astrid always drew their attention, leaving Quinn feeling slighted, pushed aside for someone who wasn’t even her own flesh and blood.
Had she blamed her all these years? Maybe.
Was it fair? Probably not.
It wasn’t like she didn’t love her. Over time they developed a bond, and it seemed as through Astrid had been around all her life. That all changed when Bo came along.
Quinn looked at Astrid. “Do you have anything more to say? I have things to do.”
“Eugene left me, went back to the hotel. He’s probably packing his stuff right now.”
“So why are you here? Are you looking for comfort? If you are, try Mom. Wait ... she’s probably not talking to you either. Am I right?”
“I’m not looking for anything. I was just telling you.”
“Why? Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?”
Astrid buried her head in her hand. “I was hoping you’d let me explain.”
“I’m not interested in your relationship with Eugene.”
“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about Bo.”
The deed was done. What was left to say?
“Why, because the truth was finally forced out of you tonight?” Quinn asked. “You should have come to me a long time ago.”
“I’m coming to you now.”
Quinn sighed. “It’s been a long day. I’m dealing with too much to tackle a conversation about the reasons why you do the things you do.”
“Mom and Dad said I could stay here for a while. In the main house. Well, Dad did anyway. Mom said I should leave, but Dad talked her out of it, for now. He sat me down. We talked. He wants me to make things right. Well, his exact words were—you have to make it right.”
Why? So they could pretend to be one big, happy family? No thanks.
“I won’t get in your way,” Astrid continued. “While I’m still here, I mean.”
“Good.”
“Well ... that’s all I came to say. I’ll go now.”
Astrid half-turned like she was waiting for Quinn to stop her, offer up the kind of compassion she always did. Compassion was the last thing on Quinn’s mind, but she didn’t mind having the final word. “Bo was everything I ever wanted. My whole life. The only man who’s ever really loved me for me. I don’t know why you did what you did, and right now I don’t want to know. You ruined my life, Astrid. I may not hate you, but I’ll never forgive you for what you did.”
CHAPTER 15
“You used me, and no one uses me.”
Astrid remained stiff, her body bent on all fours on the floor like a forced yoga pose frozen in time. She wanted to move. She’d even tried moving moments before. And now her lower abdomen languished for it.
After she’d admitted the past a few hours earlier, she’d downed three or four glasses of water, trying to sober up. Eugene, on the other hand, had kept the liquor flowing. She pressed a hand to her stomach, rubbing where it ached the most—an isolated area between her breasts. A sharp pang shot through her as she caressed it, a feeling like something had ruptured. Maybe it had.
“You don’t understand, Eugene,” she said. “I didn’t use you. It wasn’t like that.”
Who was she fooling? Of course it was. He knew it. She did too. She cursed herself for returning to their hotel room too soon to get her things. She thought he’d already be gone.
Why was he still there?
When Eugene failed to respond, she looked up. Her eyes met his, and he started to clap. Slow. Steady. Claps. “Nice try. Really. I almost believed you.”
“Eugene, I—”
“Didn’t use me, huh? Didn’t enjoy spending my money, pampering yourself on all the trips we’ve taken together? You could make the hypocrite hall of fame for lousiest liar.”
On Eugene and Astrid’s first date together, Astrid had been cornered in the ladies room by a much older woman. The woman had noticed Astrid dining with Eugene, and from one woman to another, the woman felt Astrid needed to be warned. When Astrid asked why, the woman said that several months before, Eugene had dated her friend, Carla. After a nasty argument one night, he slapped Carla around. The following day Carla reported it to the police, but somehow Eugene had gotten to them already, convincing them that it was actually Carla who’d abused him. He had a black eye to prove it, one Carla was convinced he’d given to himself.
After hearing the woman’s story, Astrid laughed it off, convinced herself the woman was a liar. And even if she wasn’t, she thought she could handle him. After all, she’d handled so many others before.
Now, in a tremendous amount of pain, she wished she’d listened.
“You thought you could play with my emotions,” Eugene continued, “flaunt those perky fake breasts of yours in my face until you had what you wanted. And then what—you’d leave, change your number—take everything I bought you and skip out one day while I was gone? Was that the plan, Astrid?”
She’d never seen this side of him before—the furrowed brow, the tight lips, the sinister man hiding beneath the playful exterior. How could she have? She hadn’t known him long enough to notice anything other than what she always did in a man—the same addictive seduction that gripped her time and time again. Prestige. Power. Money. A toxic combination she couldn’t resist.
“I’m hurt, Eugene.”
“Good. Maybe now you have a small idea of how I’m feeling.”
How you’re feeling?
She was the brunt of his pain, his own personal punching bag. “You know something? You really are an asshole!”
Eugene’s boots dragged across the rough, wood floor until they stopped in front of her. Astrid stared at the pointed tips of softened leather—firm, ready to strike. And strike one did, the heel connecting with the center of her forehead.
Astrid’s head wrenched back. This wasn’t the first time a short-term fling had become physical at the end, but up to now, she’d only incurred minor infractions—nothing permanent. A slap to the face. A forced shove out of a former lover’s door. Eugene was different. She’d wounded his pride. He didn’t just want to hurt her. He wanted to leave a lasting impression, one she’d never forget.
When she first arrived at the hotel that night, faced him, said it was over as she’d done so many times with o
ther men in the past, she was surprised how well he took it. It was only when his fist collided with her chest that the ramification of her words presented itself. At first she did nothing, thinking if she let him get his dig in, it would all be over. He’d leave. She’d never have to see him again. Now, with his rage about to boil over, she knew better. He wasn’t finished with her yet.
Her leg wobbled as she tried to bend it in front of her body, pressing a hand against the top of her knee to boost herself into a standing position. Eugene folded one arm over the other, stood there, smiling, as if waiting to assault her again.
“You need to get out of here, Eugene. Go home.”
“Or what?”
“Just leave. Go. Now. It’s over.”
“Oh—I know it’s over.”
He clenched his hand into a fist and jabbed forward. The jab didn’t connect. He stopped it just before it hit her neck, left it there, taunting her, looking for a reaction. A boost to his ego. A sign he was strong and she was weak.
She wasn’t weak, she was explosive—a personality trait he was remiss not to have noticed before this moment. Her eyes glassed the room, coming to rest on a crystal candy dish. So hard, so heavy, so round.
So ... perfect.
Eugene followed her gaze, grappling to get his hands on the dish first. He reached. He missed. Astrid didn’t. She curled her fingers around the textured glass and swung. The bowl smashed into the side of his head, and he staggered back, stumbling over his pant leg as he went down.
The sound of Eugene’s head cracking against the wood floor echoed throughout the thin-walled room. Astrid stood. Watching. Waiting.
A full minute passed before she spoke again. “Eugene?”
He didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge her.
Astrid considered bending down, prodding him with a finger to see if he’d move. She resisted. She’d seen enough movies to predict the usual outcome of situations like this one. The moment she got close enough, he’d spark back to life, take hold of her ankle, and down she’d fall. Again. She needed to get her things, get the hell out of there before he regained consciousness.
A View to a Kill Page 6
