by Lori Wilde
Guilt and shame suffused her as the truth spilled out of her. She told him all the things she should have told him years and years ago. She talked and talked and talked and when she was done, she sank back against her expensive leather couch, drained and exhausted.
She peeked over at James Robert, who hadn’t moved a muscle during her recitation. She wanted him to take her in his arms, kiss her gently, and tell her it was all right. The past was over, and he loved her no matter who she was. But she couldn’t hope for that. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness.
“I’m sorry you suffered,” James Robert said, but his tone was devoid of emotion. He sounded flat, dead inside.
Honey lifted her chin. Always the fighter, always the survivor. Never give up, never surrender. He didn’t ask her what happened next, but she told him anyway. “I survived. I went to a homeless shelter and they got me a job as a live-in companion taking care of a wealthy elderly woman with Alzheimer’s, who’d been a recluse for years.”
“Abigail Montgomery,” James Robert said.
“Yes. She had no immediate family left. Her only child, a daughter named Honey, had died years before in a skiing accident in the Alps.”
“So when did you decide to assume the daughter’s identity?” He spit out the words. His jaw muscles clenched tight.
“It was never a conscious decision. She’d call me by her daughter’s name and when I tried to correct her, she’d get upset. It was easier to humor her and let her call me Honey. In the beginning Abigail had her days where she was more lucid than others, and even when she wasn’t lucid about the present, she still remembered her debutante days. She taught me the ways of high society. How to speak. How to act. Proper etiquette. The right way to do things. She was lonely and enjoyed my company.”
Honey stared off into the distance, remembering who she used to be and the path she’d taken to become who she was now. “As Abigail’s condition worsened, she started calling me Honey all the time. She’d kept her daughter’s clothes and gave them to me to wear. It was easy to pretend I was her daughter, who’d been living abroad for some years and had returned home to care for my ailing mother. It took little effort to fool the boy who delivered the groceries or the mailman or the local pharmacist. Remember, by this time, I was walking the walk and talking the talk of a woman raised in the lap of luxury.”
“And Abigail,” James Robert said, “because of her condition and her lack of immediate family, was no longer active in her social circle. I’m guessing her friends had long ago abandoned her, so it made it easier for you to pretend. There was no one to ferret you out as a fraud.”
“That’s right.”
His gaze hardened. “So you formed a plan to become Honey Montgomery, and you started trolling the University of Pennsylvania campus, looking for a rich husband. You knew Abigail’s gravy train wouldn’t last forever.”
“No, no,” Honey denied. “It wasn’t like that. On the one day I had off from caring for Abigail, I took a class at the university. I was interested in an education, not getting married. Marriage was the last thing on my mind.”
“I find that hard to believe.” His eyes were cold, unfeeling. “Coming from a liar like you.”
Real fear pushed bile into her throat. She curled her fingernails into her palms. She was losing him. He wasn’t going to forgive her. But she couldn’t fault him. She’d done an unforgivable thing.
“And the day I met you?”
She sat up straighter. “That was the day I killed Fayrene Doggett, and Honey Montgomery was resurrected from the grave. I knew that a man like you, from a rich, successful family, could never love a common carny pickpocket like me. I became what you needed me to be, James Robert.”
“I guess you’re pretty lucky Abigail Montgomery died when she did, or you wouldn’t have been able to fool me for long. If we’d stayed in Philadelphia, I would have eventually found out the truth. Unless, that is, you killed her.”
Honey gasped as if he’d slapped her. “Do you actually believe that of me?”
“How would I know? I have no idea who you really are.”
“I’m not capable of murder.” Her voice quivered, half with anger, half with fear.
“I didn’t think you were capable of lying and cheating your way into marriage, either, but apparently I was wrong. I always knew you were one determined woman. That you never let anything stand in your way. It was one of the things I admired most about you.” He gave a rough, humorless laugh.
“I’m not denying that Abigail’s death, two weeks after we met, made my deception much easier. And the fact she left me a small inheritance gave credence to my story that medical bills and bad investments had wiped out the family fortune.”
Honey felt the familiar ache of loss and loneliness deep within her heart, a void that plunged straight through to her soul. A single tear slid down her cheek. Wet and hot. She didn’t swipe it away, just allowed it to roll until it dried at her chin.
“You tricked me into marriage. You were the one who insisted on a quick elopement.” Resentment was etched into every corner of her husband’s face, and she couldn’t think badly of him for it. He had every right to his resentment, his anger, his hatred for her and what she had done.
“I did it only because I loved you so much,” she murmured.
He made a harsh, unforgiving noise. “You irrevocably altered the course of my life, without my knowledge, without my permission. You cheated me.”
“Please,” she begged for his understanding, even though Honey Montgomery Cartwright never begged. “I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you, and I knew if you found out who I really was, your family would pressure you to dump me.”
“You’re probably right about that.” His eyes were cold as flint, the look in them striking her through the heart. The gulf between them loomed impossibly wide. And she realized there was no bridging this canyon. There was no going back.
“And you would have done it because you had a hard time standing up to your family, James Robert.”
“Just like Delaney does,” he said.
The mention of their daughter’s name brought them out of their muddled past and back into the room, back to the reality that their daughter had been kidnapped from the chapel on her wedding day. Honey wanted to reach over and touch her husband’s hand, but she was so terrified he’d shake off her comfort. She couldn’t bear that.
“You’ve lived in fear all these years. That the world was going to discover your dark secret. That’s why you were so insistent on things being perfect. That’s why you pushed the girls the way you did. Everyone was watching. You couldn’t risk a misstep, nor could your children.”
“Yes,” Honey admitted.
“Lying turned you into something you’re not, into someone you’re not. I’ve watched you change over the years, and I never understood why you did the things you did. At times I felt like you were doing your best to push me away.”
Her husband was right. She had pushed him away with her demands of perfection. She’d known she was pushing him away, forsaking intimacy for secrecy. Honey thought of all the love she’d missed, all the joy she’d negated. In her desperate need to forsake her past, she’d hopelessly maimed her future.
Despair seized her. Turned her inside out as the world as she knew it flipped upside down. And nothing would ever be the same again.
“And now,” she whispered, “I’m being blackmailed by my own mother. She saw my picture with Delaney in Society Bride and demanded twenty thousand dollars or she was going to the police. I paid her off.”
James Robert got up from the couch.
“Where are you going?” Honey asked, nervously lacing her fingers together.
“To phone the police.”
Terror gripped her. “You can’t. If you call the police everyone will find out about me.”
He stared at her. “Keeping your secret is more important than our daughter’s life?”
“No, no, of course not.
It’s just that I’m sure my mother is behind this kidnapping. She won’t hurt Delaney. We can pay her off and still keep things quiet.”
Hatred flared in his eyes. “Good God, woman, you can’t keep living this lie. It’s over. Everything is over.”
Honey closed her eyes. He was right. She’d been hiding and lying for so long, her values had gotten completely screwed up. Her eyes flew open. Mentally, she braced herself. “Call them.”
James Robert reached for the phone, turning on the ringer at exactly the same moment it rang. He picked it up. “Hello.”
Honey sank her teeth into her bottom lip.
“Evan,” James Robert said on a sharp intake of breath.
Hand splayed over her chest, she got to her feet and went to stand beside her husband. He had a short, one-sided conversation with Evan that she couldn’t decipher, then he hung up and turned to look at her.
“Delaney left Evan a note.”
Honey blinked. “A note.”
James Robert pursed his lips and glared at her. Honey felt his rage all the way to her bone marrow. “I guess it was a good thing you didn’t let me call the cops.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Seems our daughter was desperate to get out of the marriage, but because of you and your inflexible demand for perfection, she had no idea how to tell us she didn’t want to marry Evan. Congratulations, you officially pushed her over the edge.”
Misery lay like granite in Honey’s stomach. “What are you saying?”
“Delaney hired someone to take her hostage.”
Nick had been in a car accident racing to rescue her. He could be hurt. He could have been killed.
Delaney felt a shock of fear and dread unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. The white-hot pain of sorrow rocketed into her heart, so intense she thought she was going to be sick.
She had to get out of this van. Had to get to Nick. She had to make sure he was unharmed. Had to let him know how much she loved him.
Because she did love him. Loved him so much she could scarcely breathe.
She had loved him from the moment she’d seen him in her vision that evening in Claire Kelley’s consignment shop. She just hadn’t known it then. But there was no denying it. They were fated. He simply could not die.
Please, God, she prayed. Please, let my Nicky be okay.
How to get out of here? How to get away from this kidnapping creep? What she needed was a plan.
But she had nothing.
Do what you do best, Skylar’s voice whispered in the back of her head.
What was that? She wasn’t brave or bold or intrepid. She wasn’t particularly smart or cunning. Most of her life she’d been motivated by the need to live in harmony with those around her. She’d preferred blending in to rocking the boat, to accommodate others and put her own needs on hold.
She had nothing that could help her out of this fix.
You’ve got empathy. It was Skylar’s voice again. And you’re patient and nonjudgmental.
Okay, she could do that. Pretend to be on the side of her kidnapper.
Delaney heard sirens wail from somewhere in the distance behind them. Her heart jumped into her throat. Nick!
Do something! Now!
“Whew,” Delaney said as calmly as she could and tentatively raised her gaze to meet the eyes of her kidnapper in the rearview mirror. “Thank heavens we shook him.”
The man behind the wheel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Whaddya mean?”
“The guy in the red pickup was my bodyguard. I’m so glad he’s out of the picture. You have no idea what a pain in the neck it is having your every move monitored.”
“You kiddin’ me? I’ve been in the pen, girlie. You’re the one with no idea what it’s like to have your every move monitored for real.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. You’re right. It’s completely inappropriate for me to compare my pampered life to prison.”
“Damn straight.”
“It’d be really awful if you had to go back there.”
“I’m never going back.”
“Well, you might. Kidnapping is a felony.”
“I ain’t getting caught.”
“You might.”
“I’m not going back to jail,” he said stubbornly.
“I bet it’s hard,” she mused. All the while she was talking to him, Delaney was edging up the floor of the van toward the seat that separated her from the driver. Getting him to talk was one thing, but she needed a better plan. Needed to shake things up, but at the right moment, when it would do her the most good. “Starting all over again after prison. Is that why you turned to kidnapping?”
“Pays better than working at Wal-Mart.”
“What did you do for a living?” she asked. “Besides kidnapping, I mean. Before you went to jail.”
“I’m a barker at the Whack-a-Mole on Galveston Island,” he said proudly.
Ah, now she knew why he looked familiar. Was that how the kidnapping had come about? He’d seen her at the amusement park and recognized her as a Cartwright?
“You like that work?”
“Outside, near the ocean, no boss. What’s not to like?”
Closer, closer. She was just a few inches from the back of his seat, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do once she got there. Her hands were cuffed. It wasn’t like she had a whole lot of options.
She scooted forward. Her veil fell across her face, blurring her vision with a curtain of lace.
And then she knew what to do.
In a soothing voice, she coaxed the driver to talk, while the seconds ticked away and they drove farther and farther from where Nick had crashed his pickup. It took everything she possessed to keep herself from acting immediately. If she was going to be successful in her escape attempt, she had to time things right.
He turned on his blinker and changed lanes. Up ahead lay a freeway ramp. She couldn’t let him get back on the freeway. Her plan would be far too dangerous to execute on the expressway.
The time was now.
She was positioned directly behind the driver. With her cuffed hands she reached over her head, while simultaneously rising up on her knees. Briefly, her eyes met those of her kidnapper in the rearview mirror at the very same moment she flipped the long veil up over his head.
The guy swore, swerved violently. The van shot back across the lane they’d just left.
He batted at her veil.
The van rocked.
Delaney fell back on her butt.
The van bounced hard up onto the curb.
He cut the wheel tight, brought the van down on the road with a solid smack. The jarring impact caused the back door to swing open. Hot air rushed in.
A horn sounded and Delaney looked up in time to see a delivery truck headed straight for them.
She screamed. The kidnapper twisted the steering wheel, sending them careening around a corner and up over a second curb.
Delaney somersaulted across the floor of the van, and the next thing she knew she was free-falling out the door.
Chapter 18
While Delaney was tussling with the kidnapping Whack-a-Mole barker, Nick pumped the foot feed and twisted the key in the ignition. He grunted with relief when the engine fired up again.
He took off after her, not knowing for sure where the van had gone. It might be back up on the freeway by now, completely out of reach. That thought fisted his gut. No, no, he wasn’t that far behind them. He’d only lost a few seconds, maybe a minute, but no longer. He had to believe they were still on this access road.
Resolutely, Nick goosed the ailing pickup and ignored the rattling and groaning noises coming from the rear end. Lalule shook on the dashboard, urging him onward.
He sped over the rise in the road, eyes desperately scanning the area in search of the white van.
Then he saw something that stopped his heart. The van, maybe eight blocks ahead of him, spinning around a corner w
ith the back door flapping open.
In horror, Nick watched as the woman he loved fell out onto the pavement.
Ouch. That was going to leave a bruise. Delaney lay on the ground, breathing hard as she watched the van disappear in a blinding blur around the corner.
She heard the squeal of brakes and the sound of tires sliding in gravel. She felt pebbles pelt her skin. Delaney pushed herself up, winced against abrasions on her palms.
A car door slammed.
She shook her head and the veil fell to one side. She saw someone running toward her.
Nick! He was all right!
Delaney had never seen a more welcome sight. She grinned in spite of cuts and scrapes.
He was at her side, picking her up, dusting her off, his face knitted with concern. “Are you all right? Are you okay?” He sounded breathless and scared.
“Fine, fine. How about you?”
“I’m okay.”
“You sure?” She touched his face, needing proof.
“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed with concern.
“What in the hell is going on with Trudie’s nephew? Why did he run from me? When I get my hands on that punk…”
“That wasn’t Louie,” she said.
“Then who the hell was it?”
Delaney shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Nick stared her in the eyes and felt such a surge of gratitude, he couldn’t even speak. Ignoring his weak knee, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the pickup, even though she protested the entire way.
She looked okay, kept demanding he put her down so she could walk, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He held her tightly against his chest and maneuvered toward the passenger side of his truck. Her hair was pressed against his nose. She smelled like sunflowers, and she was trembling like a fawn abandoned by its mother.
His heart jerked hard. If that kidnapper had hurt her in any way, shape, or form, he would strangle him with his bare hands in a crime of passion. He put her in the truck, snapped the seat belt around her, and realized he was trembling too. She could have been killed. He could have lost her.
