Sex, Lies, and Joysticks

by Lynn Chantale

  He switched off the lights and trudged up the basement stairs. He also made a mental note to hire a bodyguard for Randa just in case Matteo came back or Selena tried anything stupid. The soft footsteps overhead signaled Randa was up. The clock in the hall chimed the half hour, and he glanced at his watch. Two thirty in the morning. More than likely, she was coming to look for him since he wasn’t beside her.

  Would she check Matteo’s room? Lincoln freely admitted he was happy to see the man walk out the front door the hour before, but he worried about the effect on Randa, especially after the fight earlier. Had Matteo left some kind of note that Lincoln hadn’t found? Squaring his shoulders, he mounted the steps to the second floor. When he reached the top, he stopped. Kneeling on the threshold of Matteo’s room was Randa. Her shoulders shook as her head dropped forward.

  He surged toward her. “Randa?”

  She twisted her head, pinning him with sorrow-stricken eyes and a damp face. He stopped just short of touching her. For the second time in his life, he’d caused that look of utter devastation on her face. He forced one foot in front of the other until he knelt beside her.

  “He’s gone.” She choked back a sob. Paper crinkled. “He’s not coming back.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You made him leave, didn’t you?”

  Instead of answering, Lincoln pried the crumpled paper from her fingers. He smoothed the page out and tilted it toward the light.

  My love, by the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Know that I love you, and this is for the best. M

  There was no mention of why he left, just that he was gone. Lincoln shoved the note in his pocket and gathered Randa close. “It will be all right.”

  She shook her head against his chest. “No. How could he just leave like this?”

  Lincoln swallowed hard. He did not like how much he’d hurt his wife. His heart shredded as guilt sank its dull claws in his belly. Somehow he didn’t think their marriage would survive if she learned the truth this time.

  * * * *

  Calliope music danced on the air, followed by the scent of animal dung and wet straw. In the distance a lion roared, and an elephant trumpeted in response.

  The aroma of sweet cotton candy and buttered popcorn mingled with sawdust and the stale sweat of bodies pressed in a large, open space.

  This was such a welcome distraction from the mess of things Lincoln had made with Randa. He could forget about his relationship issues and focus on something fun and whimsical, and a day at the circus with his daughter was the perfect date.

  Lincoln pointed to two clowns tumbling while another made balloon animals. Melodee, who was seated on his lap, leaned forward, her container of popcorn tipping and spilling the yellow kernels to the floor.

  He adjusted his hold on her waist as she clapped her hands, sending popcorn everywhere.

  “Oops,” Melodee said, looking down and then back at Lincoln.

  He laughed. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We can get more,” he assured her. “Look, De, they’re bringing the elephant out.”

  The little girl turned her attention back to the ring. The clowns were now racing on either side, in front of and behind the elephant. The giant gray beast curled its trunk around one brightly dressed clown and lifted him high in the air.

  Melodee squealed in delight. Her laughter squeezed his heart. These were little memories he’d have forever. Lincoln stroked her hair. He could lament how he’d wanted to be there for Melodee every step of the way, but he knew about her and could be with her now. That was the most important part. He could provide a better life for his daughter.

  He huffed. There was only one problem with being the best father he could be. He still hadn’t told Randa.

  Chapter Six

  His face would never be the same again. Reznick leaned forward and touched the scarred leather patch that ran from the corner of his right eye to the tip of his pointed chin. He had some of the best facial-reconstruction specialists look at his face, but none could restore him to his former handsomeness.

  He had them all killed for their incompetence.

  What was the point of being the best? Knowing those few individuals were gone provided small satisfaction. Knowing the man who disfigured him was alive and well somewhere in the world filled him with inexplicable rage.

  The man Reznick knew as Benito deserved far worse than death for what was done to his face, but first Reznick had to find the man and exact his revenge. Finding a ghost was proving to be very tedious.

  Reznick turned from the mirror when his door opened.

  “Boss, I think I got something.” A scrawny man with a rumpled paisley shirt hanging out of equally wrinkled khakis, disheveled cinnamon-colored hair graying at the temples, and an enormous silver watch that appeared too heavy for his thin wrist rushed into the room. A laptop was beneath one arm.

  Reznick waited a beat. Patches was the only man who seemed to tolerate Reznick’s presence, or rather his appearance, without flinching or looking away with a combined expression of disgust and pity. The man would never know how much that meant to him.

  “You really need to see this.” Patches extended the laptop and opened the lid. He stopped, then walked to a desk. He tinkered with some cords before information popped up on one of the three computer monitors.

  Reznick squeezed the bridge of his nose. Just a bunch of numbers and letters scrolled across the screen. “What am I looking at?”

  A brittle smile cracked the other man’s lips. “Oh, sorry.” He typed something, and images appeared on the middle screen. “I’ve been running a program on that Benito person for you, just in case anyone decided to look him up.” He shifted. “I got a hit.”

  For the past several days, Reznick had had his assistant scouring any and every news source on the web, and now he had a lead.

  Reznick scrolled the cursor over a beautiful black woman. The wide, dark sunglasses hid the upper portion of her face and added to her mystique, but it was the man who drew his attention.

  Chiseled features, eyes just a little too shrewd, dark hair on the long side. It was definitely Benito. Reznick glanced at the caption beneath the picture.

  Vixen_425. He clicked on the hyperlink, which took him to a recent news story. How had he missed this before? He scanned the article. It talked about her dazzling rise to the top of the gaming world, and her success caused serious conflict with her teammate and recruiter, FazFazol.

  A slow smile curved his lips. Now that was something Reznick could and would exploit. FazFazol had a beef with this Vixen. Well, that seemed to be the best way to get to Benito.

  “And the gamer, FazFazol. Can you persuade him to give us the information I want?” Reznick said. Playing one gamer against another would be the perfect way to lure Benito out of hiding.

  Patches nodded. “Already done, and he gave me a location.”

  “Give me Benito’s last known whereabouts. I want to make him pay.”

  Patches handed him a sheet of paper. “Everything you need to know. The jet is fueled and ready. Just waiting on your orders.”

  Reznick glanced at the information on the page. He could get to this location in a matter of hours. A warm, tingly sensation washed over him and settled in his groin. Years of waiting for Benito to surface, and it was happening. If Benito had a family, Reznick would slaughter them while the man watched.

  Chapter Seven

  Randa drummed her fingers on the white linen tablecloth and glanced around the restaurant. Warm wood paneling, cozy hurricane lanterns on each table, and romantic watercolors dotted the walls. Conversation murmured around her, and she could just make out the snippet of a waiter expounding the night’s specials to a nearby table.

  She stifled a yawn. This was her second—or was it the third?—date with Destin. The man was nice enough, but she just couldn’t get past that he wasn’t exactly genuine. He had a touch of chivalry and was a great conversationalist, but there was something she couldn’t quite place.
Right now she was waiting for him to return from a phone call and their waiter to return with their boxed desserts.

  Not that she minded the brief interruption in their date. His absence helped drive home how not ready she was to be back out dating again as well as how much she had enjoyed Matteo’s easy manner.

  The main reason she was out tonight was because she had promised her husband she’d go out at least once while he was away. And after the news she’d received from the fertility doctor, she wanted to celebrate with someone, even if she was the only one celebrating. She would have preferred to sit in front of her TV and shoot a bunch of enemies. She shifted in the padded chair and moved her napkin from her lap to the table. Where was the waiter with their to-go boxes?

  Another glance around the dining room and she spotted Destin striding toward her, his head held high, back straight. He really was a good-looking man, a little dark for her tastes, his skin the color of rich dark chocolate. Streaks of silver brushed his temples; other than that, his hair was jet-black. He flashed a white smile, bright against his skin. The matte-gray suit he wore moved with him as if tailored to his physique, which was well maintained.

  That was something else she liked about her husband. While his job did require him to be in shape, he didn’t have the rock-hard abs that were so popular. Not that she didn’t appreciate washboard abs—Matteo had a drool-worthy set—but it was nice to have something to hang on to when she was in bed or just needed a hug. She really needed to stop thinking about her men and give Destin more of a chance.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” Destin pulled his chair out, smoothed down the front of his jacket, and sat. Before he could place his napkin in his lap, their waiter appeared with two plastic bags and the check. “You’re ready to leave?”

  Randa offered an apologetic smile. “I hope you don’t mind. I…well…I’d just rather be home.”

  Destin reached for his wallet, placed a credit card on the small black tray, and handed it to the server, who promptly left. “I’ll admit I was rather surprised when you agreed to come out again with me. I got the impression you weren’t quite sold on our last date.”

  She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t see the heat creeping into her cheeks. “Since we’re being honest, I’m still dealing with the effects of a serious relationship and just looking for friendship right now.”

  Destin nodded. “I can respect that. In the meantime, I get the company of a beautiful woman and intelligent conversation.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I hope that one day you’ll be ready for more than friendship. Maybe even a reconciliation with someone from your past.”

  She held his gaze. Some emotion she couldn’t identify flickered through his dark irises and gave her pause. Was he trying to tell her he knew Matteo or that he wanted more? Erring on the side of caution, she said, “One date at a time. I don’t want to lead you on into something that could hurt us both.”

  He inclined his head. “You really didn’t mention why your last relationship dissolved.” He flashed a rueful smile when she frowned. “I don’t mean to pry.”

  “I don’t really know what happened. One day he was there; the next he wasn’t.” Even now, thinking of Matteo’s lack of explanation clogged the back of her throat with emotion. She swallowed hard and reached for her glass of water.

  “He must have meant a lot to you.” Destin’s tone was gentle.

  She could only nod, afraid if she voiced the truth, she’d start bawling.

  He patted her hand and sat back. “I hope to inspire that type of devotion in someone.”

  Their waiter reappeared with Destin’s card. Randa stood as he placed the card back in his wallet, and shrugged on her coat.

  As he walked her to her car, Randa still hoped for some sort of spark, but it was futile.

  “I would like to do this again,” Destin said as he brushed a wisp of hair from her face.

  The simple gesture left her unmoved. “It was a very lovely evening.”

  He leaned in. At the last millisecond, she twisted her head, and his lips grazed her cheek. Destin straightened, a slight grimace on his face.

  “You should be getting home. I don’t want that husband of yours accusing me of monopolizing your time.”

  Chuckling, she unlocked her car, and he opened the door. “I doubt that, but he will be appreciative of your consideration.” She slipped behind the wheel, and he closed the door. “Thank you for dinner. Next time it’s my treat.”

  A wide grin split his face. “I’m a modern man and gladly accept your offer.”

  She started the car and backed from her parking space. A dark sedan containing her bodyguard pulled in behind her. She’d almost forgotten she had a babysitter. She left Destin standing in the parking lot. When she looked in her rearview mirror, he had his phone to his ear. He seemed to stare right at her, his expression grim while his lips moved.

  Slowly he walked a few vehicles down. An opening in the traffic allowed her to turn left, and Destin was forgotten. She would be going home to an empty house. Well, not so empty when the bodyguard would be monitoring everything.

  Filling the hours until Lincoln returned from catching bail jumpers or giving speeches at various conventions and seminars around the country wasn’t as easy as it used to be.

  Twenty minutes later, Randa pulled into the driveway. The dark sedan pulled in behind her. She shook her head. Yeah, they were getting old pretty fast. She grabbed her dessert and purse and exited the vehicle.

  She hurried across the walk and picked up the long rectangular box with the logo of her favorite florist emblazoned on the ribbon from where it rested against the stone wall of the front porch. She glanced around the frozen neighborhood for signs of anyone. Nothing. It hadn’t snowed in days. The walkways were clear except for the dusting of crushed salt on the surface. Her home wasn’t isolated, but with the nearest neighbor a tad shy of an acre away, it seemed remote, especially with the expanse of knee-deep snow covering the fields.

  She pulled off one glove. She couldn’t quite quell the racing of her heart when she plucked the card from beneath the ribbon. Maybe Matteo sent her something.

  No matter how she tried to forget the only other man who held a piece of her heart, she couldn’t. Matteo was as much a part of her as Lincoln. Right now she missed both men terribly. The one thing she hated most was coming home to an empty house, and that happened more often than not.

  With a sigh, she returned the card to the box without reading it, fished her keys from her pocket, and unlocked the door. High-pitched beeps split the air as she kicked the door closed, effectively shutting out the frigid wind.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear ya.” She tapped her code into the keypad and got a buzz. She swore beneath her breath and tried again. This time a pleasant blip and the alarm rearmed. If Lincoln decided to check, he’d know she was home safe and sound. Well, that and the annoying bodyguard who shadowed her everywhere.

  There never seemed to be such a concern for her safety before, but after Matteo left, Lincoln informed her of the threats. At the time she was too distraught over Matteo leaving to care if someone was after her or why, but given the few threats she’d intercepted, they had to be related to gaming.

  She laid the box on the low coffee table, quickly shed her outerwear, and hung her coat and boots in the closet. Playing video games for a living kept her sane most days and connected to another human being if only via a headset. There was nothing she could do regarding the way other gamers felt about her success.

  And she was very successful, taking the major-league gaming world by storm as a novice and as a woman that first year, three years ago, when she’d played opposite KingsArmy in the Halo tournament. She smirked. Boy, was he steamed when she bested him. Matteo had been around for that.

  Randa sighed. What in the world happened to make him leave? She dragged her fingers through her hair and surveyed the space. Framed photographs of her and Lincoln and of
her winning various tournaments dotted the walls of the living room. Even some of Lincoln and Jacqui or the three of them together, but any trace of Matteo had been eliminated. She wasn’t sure if this was for her benefit, but she could really use a picture of him right about now. All she had was the ring he’d given her that she still wore around her neck. The jewelry fit between her cleavage, and since it was so similar to one Lincoln had given her for their first anniversary, he didn’t question it.

  Now all she wanted was comfort. If she happened to mention this to Lincoln, he’d suggest she go out with Destin again. While he was a nice man, there wasn’t much of a connection. Randa would much rather have a connection with someone than a warm body to keep her company.

  She swiped at the moisture on her face. Here it was months later, and she still mourned Matteo’s absence as if he’d left that day. It was then her gaze landed on the box. Maybe, just maybe, this could be something to cheer her up.

  Crossing the room, she paused to scoop up the box and tucked it beneath her arm. She tugged her cell phone from her pocket. Before she could dial, her husband’s smiling face popped on the screen. The corners of her mouth curved upward. Just what she needed. A video call. She slid her thumb across the bottom of the glass.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  “Well, hello, beautiful. I see you made it in safe and sound.”

  She continued toward the kitchen.

  “What are you doing? Everything is wiggling all over the place.”

  “I’m taking the flowers you sent me into the kitchen so I can place them in a vase.” She set down her phone so he could still watch her as she moved around and then placed the box on the counter.

  He grinned. “Oh, good. You got them.”

  “I did.” She went to the cupboard beneath the sink and extracted a square midsize vase. “Knowing they’re from you is definitely making my day brighter.” She set the vase by the box and lifted the card from the envelope.

  Until I see you again.