Maxine

by SUE FINEMAN

  Cara flipped the TV off. “Damn him!”

  Aunt Sophia patted Cara’s arm. “Nobody will believe him, Cara.”

  “Somebody must have or he’d still be in jail.” Why did they let him out so soon after what he’d done?

  Two minutes later, Gerry called. “Cara, did you see Lance’s interview?”

  “I watched him beg someone to get me help, then I turned it off. Why did they let him out?”

  “Apparently, they didn’t have enough evidence to hold him.”

  “But I saw him.”

  “They know that, but they also know you and your husband are estranged. Lance’s attorney questioned whether you were able to get a clear look from that distance, and the police didn’t find any smoke residue on him or any evidence that he’d fired a gun recently.”

  Cara rubbed her forehead. “I got a clear look, but that’s not the reason they don’t believe me. Lance is an accomplished liar.” He started telling his lies on television the day after she left him. He’d had weeks to play up the mental illness nonsense and get the public’s sympathy. The more she thought about the things Lance had done, the more angry she became. “Did they ask about his name and criminal background?”

  “He said you knew who he was, that you were the one who suggested he use another name so no one would know of his police record.”

  “And they believed him?”

  “I don’t know if they believed him or not, but you have to admit, he looks and sounds very convincing.”

  “Of course he does, Gerry,” she snapped. “He’s a damn con man. What about the painting? I thought there was a warrant out for his arrest for the theft of the painting.”

  “The guy who took the painting recanted his statement, and Lance said he was just giving a job to a friend down on his luck.”

  “What about the tape we made?”

  “We can’t use it, Cara. When Sally gets back, we can ask her to speak with the prosecutor about Lance’s intentions to lock you up, but she wasn’t there when he shot at the boat or set the fire, and she didn’t know about the painting.”

  Cara groaned. “I thought the law was supposed to be on the right side.”

  “Do you want to hold a press conference?”

  “To dispute Lance’s claims? No, I can never give a performance as good as his. Did you know he used to be an actor?”

  “No, I didn’t, but it fits. That’s what con men do. They act.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the dark television screen. Anger burned inside her like a white hot poker. Maybe she should consider hiring someone to kill him, because Lance wouldn’t give up until he had what he wanted. And what he wanted was Cara’s estate. To get it, he’d have to kill her before Gerry ended their marriage. “He’ll try again.”

  Gerry sighed. “Yes, I imagine he will.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Over the next two days, Nick’s cousins drifted in and out of his hospital room, bringing him little bits of home.

  Cara always turned his television off when the news came on, but the morning he was to be released, he got to the control before she did. He stared at the television in stunned silence and then turned to her. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me that bastard burned my house?”

  “You’d just been shot, Nick.”

  “That’s why you want me to go to California?”

  She sat beside his bed. “It’s one reason. The other is for safety. They let Lance go. If you stay here in Gig Harbor, I’m afraid—”

  “Don’t you ever keep something like this from me again.” Nick walked into the bathroom, closing out the hurt look on her face. It wasn’t her fault his house burned down, but she should have told him. Everything he owned was in that house, and now it was gone. He’d had to start over after the divorce, and now he’d have to do it all over again. Only this time he didn’t own a pot to piss in. “Shit!”

  He came out to see Cara wiping a tear from her eye. She quickly turned to the window, hiding her tears from him again. He’d lost everything he owned, but he had no right to take it out on her. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hey, it’s just a temporary setback, like my divorce, and I have insurance.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nick.”

  He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Cara.” He turned her to face him and kissed her gently. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  It would take time to rebuild his house and his life, and time before he could eliminate the source of their problems—Michael Lance. And he would eliminate the bastard. A man like that didn’t deserve to live.

  <>

  An hour later, reporters hovered outside the hospital as Nick, wearing Tony’s clothes, with Aunt Sophia’s favorite rosary in his pocket, rolled out in a wheelchair and sat in the front seat of Tony’s car. A reporter stuck a microphone in his face. “Mr. Donatelli, how are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good for a guy who got shot in the heart.”

  “I understand you’re going to Miss Andrews’ home in California to recuperate.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t go home. My house is gone.”

  Cara said, “He took care of me when my house collapsed in the earthquake. Now it’s my turn to take care of him.”

  “Mr. Donatelli, what is your relationship with Miss Andrews?” a woman called.

  Nick’s head whipped around. “What?”

  “We’re friends,” said Cara. “Good friends.”

  “What about your husband?” a man shouted.

  “What about him?”

  “Did you know about his criminal background before you married him?”

  “No, I most certainly did not. Everything my husband ever told me was a lie, including his real name. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a plane to catch.”

  They were bombarded with questions, which Cara ignored. She closed the car door for Nick, jumped in the back seat, and slammed the door. Nick was surprised she didn’t say more about Lance’s deceit, then realized she had to hold back until she ended her marriage.

  Tony drove them to the Tacoma Narrows Airport in Gig Harbor, where Cara’s private plane waited. Nick slowly climbed the stairs and sat beside Cara. Bonnie, his private nurse, checked his seatbelt and sat across the aisle.

  Cara rubbed his hand. “Nick, if you need to lie down—”

  “Aw, Cara, will you quit fussing over me.”

  A smile pulled at her mouth. “If you think this is fussing, wait until Cassie gets her hands on you.”

  “Now, her I don’t mind. Is she making chicken pot pie for dinner tonight?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “After hospital food, anything sounds good.” He glanced across the aisle at Bonnie and leaned down to ask Cara, “Why do I still need a nurse?”

  Without hesitation, Cara replied, “For my peace of mind.”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Nick knew how bad she felt about the shooting and fire. He also knew how much she needed to be needed, to somehow make up for what happened. She wouldn’t let him stay alone with Lance out there somewhere, and he knew she wouldn’t leave the state without him. She was safer at her estate in California, with her armed security guards. Until he got his strength back, they were both safer there.

  They landed at Cara’s estate and a guard took them in the cart from the airstrip to the house, where Mr. Pettibone met them with a wheelchair. Nick groaned. “I don’t need that thing. I’ll walk.”

  Cara took his arm. “We’ll walk together.”

  She took him in an elevator to her grandfather’s suite upstairs. He vaguely remembered it from when Cara showed Aunt Sophia around. “Whoa, this is nice.” Plush burgundy carpet covered the floor, and deep chairs of cream leather flanked a tapestry love seat in front of the marble fireplace. The canopy and bedspread were made of the same cream and burgundy tapestry print that covered the love seat. Two plush recliners faced a big-screen TV in th
e corner of the sitting area. Now this is class.

  “This was my grandfather’s suite.”

  “Yeah, I remember. Did he have a big-screen TV?”

  “No, that’s yours. It’s for your house, when you rebuild it. The recliners, too.”

  He walked around the sitting area. “I don’t suppose this place has a bar like yours.”

  She pushed a button and the panels in the wall slid open to reveal a bar padded in burgundy leather. “This one is bigger. It has a microwave, too.”

  “Is the refrigerator stocked?”

  “Oh, I imagine so. My staff promised to stock everything you’re allowed to have.”

  He grinned. “Hey, I could get used to this.”

  She pointed to the bed, “Right now, you’re going to lie down and rest. This bed is adjustable. The controls are right here.” She showed him, raising the head of the bed. “The television control is here, and the button to call the nurse is right here.” They were all laid out on the shelf on the headboard.

  With a lecherous grin, he leaned down to ask, “Where’s the button to call you?”

  She sighed and turned down the covers. “Take a nap. Rest.”

  “Alone?”

  “Nick, the nurse is here and you just got out of the hospital.”

  He whispered, “Send her away.”

  Cara whispered back. “We’ll send her home in a few days.”

  Nick kicked off his slippers and eased his sore body into the bed. He shouldn’t be so tired from sitting on a plane for a couple hours, but he was. Cara kissed him lightly, said, “Sleep,” and left the room.

  The doctor said it would take weeks for him to get his strength back. As soon as he felt strong enough, he’d go back to Gig Harbor to see if he could salvage anything from the fire. If the cops didn’t have Lance locked up by then, he’d take care of the lying bastard himself. He’d buy himself a gun, because the next time that snake took pot shots at him, he intended to shoot back.

  With a deep sigh, Nick let his eyes drift closed.

  <>

  Cara went to her own suite and found a letter from Sally on the desk.

  Michael lied about the sanitarium on St. Rupert’s Island. It’s not a fit place for humans or animals. Anyone who stays for more than a few days would surely lose their mind. I can’t believe he was going to put you in a place like that. I’m so sorry about everything.

  Sally McCullough

  Cara sat holding Sally’s letter for several minutes. Walking into the sanitarium must have been quite a shock. It didn’t matter who Sally spoke with now. Gerry had enough evidence to end the marriage without giving Lance anything.

  Killing her now wouldn’t gain Lance anything, but did he know that? Did he still think he could get his hands on the estate? If he did, he was a bigger fool than she thought. Revenge. That’s what it was. She’d spoiled his plans and cut him off, and he wanted revenge.

  She put Sally’s letter in the desk and went to check on Nick. Bonnie smiled and left the room. Nick looked peaceful when he slept, so completely relaxed. A wave of protective love swept through her, bringing a single tear to her eye. The thought of life without Nick was too painful to consider. She loved this man with everything in her.

  Sitting in one of the new recliners, Cara leaned back and yawned. She hadn’t slept through the night since Nick was shot, and she was wiped out, physically and emotionally.

  <>

  Nick woke to find his nurse standing over him, taking his pulse. “Sorry,” said Bonnie. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You’ve been asleep for hours. You missed lunch. Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, sure. Where’s Cara?”

  Bonnie pointed to the recliner. “I’ll tell the girls in the kitchen to send your lunch tray up.”

  Cara looked so sweet lying there, it reminded him of the days after the earthquake, when she’d been hurting so much she had to sleep sitting up. When she needed him. He also remembered the last time they’d been together at his house and the incredible sex. Had Lance seen them together like that? All along, everyone had assumed that Lance had been shooting at Cara. Maybe he’d been aiming for his wife’s lover.

  Nick stretched and eased himself out of the bed. He’d slept better here than in the hospital, but that was no surprise. He didn’t miss the hard bed, lousy food, and constant noise. He put his hand on Cara’s pretty face and kissed her forehead. “Hey, Maxine, it’s time for lunch.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Maxine left last week.”

  “The hell she did.”

  Minutes later, Tamara rolled in a cart with their lunch. Nick sat with Cara at the table by the window and ate hearty clam chowder, tuna sandwiches, and fresh fruit salad. “Does everything taste good here, or is it because I’ve been eating hospital food?”

  “Cassie asked me for a list of the foods you liked. We’re having chicken pot pie tonight.”

  “And rocky road ice cream?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I thought you weren’t allowed to eat that.”

  “Who says?” Nick finished the last few bites of his sandwich and stared at Cara for several seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me about my house?”

  “You’d just been shot. What did you expect me to do, spring it on you the minute you opened your eyes?”

  “You could have told me yesterday or the day before, so I didn’t have to see it on television.” He threw down his napkin. “I hate it when people keep things from me.”

  “And I hate it when people yell at me.” Cara walked out the door.

  Nick knew he shouldn’t have yelled at her. Not about this. It wasn’t her fault her husband shot him or burned his house, but she could have told him. Somebody should have told him before he saw it on television.

  He paced off his anger and walked down the hallway to Cara’s suite to apologize. He tapped on the door, but she didn’t answer. “Cara.” He banged on the door. “Come on, open up, honey.”

  “Go away,” she yelled.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a jerk sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry you’re a jerk sometimes, too.”

  Nick smiled. She wasn’t too upset to throw his words back at him. He lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

  She opened the door, but didn’t invite him in. “What do you want?”

  “A little TLC wouldn’t hurt.”

  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I’m fresh out.”

  “Be nice to me. I’m wounded.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I know.”

  She sighed. “Do you want to order clothes over the Internet or send somebody shopping or what? You’re wearing Tony’s clothes. There’s one change in the closet. Otherwise, you’re going naked.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, now, that has possibilities.”

  She rubbed her forehead and he knew she was hiding a smile. “What am I going to do with you, Nick?”

  “What happened to my shoes?” He was still wearing the slippers Aunt Sophia brought him in the hospital. He had his wallet, but he hadn’t seen his shoes or clothes since he was shot.

  “Your shoes went in the dumpster at the hospital, along with the clothes you were wearing. Mine, too.”

  He owed his life to a woman who freaked out at the sight of blood. “I can’t believe you, Little Miss Wuss, put your hands in all that blood.”

  “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

  He leaned on the doorframe. “Are we going to stand in the door, or are you going to invite me in?”

  Cara sighed and backed away. “All right, come in and we’ll shop for clothes.”

  Nick sat beside her at the computer and picked out what he wanted. She didn’t offer to buy more or suggest more expensive clothes. She bought only what he told her to buy. He pulled his credit card out. “I’m paying.”

  “Fine. You pay.” She entered his credit card number, finished the order, and handed him his card.

&
nbsp; Nick stuffed the card in his wallet. “I never bought clothes that way before.”

  “You’re in no shape to go shopping right now.”

  He gently rubbed her back. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Okay, I’m not.” He dropped his hand. “Why did he have to burn the house, too?”

  “He has a nasty temper, Nick. I didn’t know that until we moved to Seattle. When I left him, I cut off his money supply, and then we tricked him and took my car. He’s got to be livid by now, and he doesn’t just yell like you when he’s pissed. He gets even.”

  “The bastard probably thinks he can still kill you and get all your money.”

  “He’s wrong. I made a new will and he’s not getting anything. I’ll give it all away.” She walked to the window and looked out. “Sometimes I wish I could live like normal people, with a job and bills, and—”

  “Well, now, that’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “No, I suppose not,” she said quietly.

  He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders. “I won’t yell again.”

  A little laugh slipped out of her. “Oh, yes, you will.”

  “Okay, but I won’t mean it.”

  She put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “Are all Italians like you?”

  “Are all rich broads like you?”

  Cara had a strength she probably didn’t know she had until her husband pushed her over the edge. Like Aunt Sophia, she was unselfish and compassionate. A good person. He loved her more every day, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. He had to get his strength back and build a new life for himself before he could plan the future. And Cara had to rid herself of the snake who’d conned her into marrying him.

  <>

  Gerry arrived the next day, Bonnie went home, and Nick’s new clothes were delivered. Over the next three days, Cara watched her staff fuss over Nick. He called them each by name, and teased and bantered with them like old friends. In return, they pampered and spoiled him. And he ate it up.

  One afternoon, Cara watched Cassie talking with Nick and knew what was going on. Every meal they’d had since Nick came had been cooked for him. Cherry pie with rocky road ice cream, tender roast beef and mashed potatoes, broiled halibut with pasta, thick grilled sandwiches, oatmeal pancakes for breakfast—it was all made with Nick in mind.