Sacrifice

by Alexandrea Weis

  “Nicci, I never planned on leaving you. I damn near died after I was shot.”

  I fought to zip up my jeans. “And what will be your excuse this time to bail on me, David. Amnesia? How can I possibly trust you, and start over with you, when all you do is lie to me?”

  He threw his hands into the air. “Christ, you’re impossible!”

  I struggled to remove the robe from around my shoulders. “First you betray me and then you die on me. Now you come back in my life and get me involved with men like Greg Caston and Simon La Roy.” I threw the robe on the floor.

  “You got yourself mixed up with those two without any help from me.”

  I picked up my bra and T-shirt from the floor. “You’re the reason I got mixed up with them in the first place. If you had just stayed out of my life, David Alexander, I would probably be happily married to a nice, normal guy and living a quiet, espionage free life.” I struggled to clasp my bra. “Three hours ago I was telling Greg Caston that his lost David Alexander’s are forgeries when they are really genuine works painted by you to entrap the guy. How screwed up is that?”

  David’s face sobered. “You told Caston the paintings were forgeries?”

  I pulled my T-shirt over my head. “Yeah!” I yelled.

  “Do you realize what you’ve done? Nicci, you’ve put yourself in danger. I was supposed to be the one to tell Caston about the paintings, not you. I was going to set up a deal with him to get him to go after Simon. If Simon finds out—”

  “I really don’t give a shit about any of this spy crap anymore!” I yelled as I headed toward the spiral staircase.

  “Where are you going?” David shouted behind me.

  “Back to Val’s,” I called out as I reached the top of the stairs.

  “No, Nicci!” David came running up to me. “It’s after three in the morning; you can’t walk home at this hour.” He grabbed my arm. “You have to be reasonable.”

  I shrugged off his arm. “Get away from me, David!”

  He held up his hands to me. “All right,” he said in a soothing voice. “You need to stop and think about this. I know you’re angry. But you can’t go marching out of here halfcocked and put yourself in harm’s way. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Look, why don’t you stay up here and I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch. And in the morning, we can talk.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t want to talk anymore, David. Every time we talk I feel like we are just going around in circles,” I asserted as I backed away from the staircase.

  “Tomorrow morning I will make us a nice breakfast and we will sit down and calmly straighten everything out. But for now, just try and get some sleep, Nicci. You’re never rational when you’re tired,” He started down the staircase. “I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll be right downstairs if you need me,” he added as pointed down the stairs.

  I stomped my foot angrily on the floor as I watched him disappear down the steps. I didn’t want to stay, but I knew I shouldn’t risk walking home at such an hour. Alone in the large bedroom, I looked around at all the Jennys standing against the wall. I stared into the face of each and every painting and tried to find something of me there. But the longer I stared, the less I saw of Nicci and the more I saw of Jenny. I wondered when I had stopped being me and had turned into the face in the portrait. And for the first time since David had come into my life, I longed to be the girl I had been before all the intrigue and betrayal had changed me. And as I lay down on David’s bed, I thought about the kind of woman I might have been if I had never met a man like David Alexander.

  ***

  I awoke to streams of light shining down on my face. I rose from the bed and was startled by my unfamiliar surroundings. Then I remembered David’s bedroom studio and the fight we had left unfinished the night before. I got up from the bed and quietly walked over to the top of the spiral staircase in the corner of the room. I peeked down into the living room and saw David asleep on the couch. I crept down the stairs until my feet landed on the living room floor. I looked over to make sure David was still soundly sleeping before I quickly tip toed across the living room to the front door. Once I had firmly pulled the front door closed, I ran as fast as I could across the courtyard, down the alleyway, and out into the street. I ran all the way back to Val’s, wishing that I could keep on running until all of the pain and confusion inside of me disappeared.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I emerged from the shadows of the gate entrance to find Dallas pacing back and forth in the middle of Val’s courtyard.

  “I told you never to leave without telling me. Did you see if you were followed? That was a foolish thing to do, Nicci,” he roared as soon as he saw me enter the courtyard.

  “I’m not an idiot, Dallas,” I griped as I walked up to him. “I did just as you taught me. I doubled back and checked behind me. I stopped twice along the way and looked to see if anyone was there. I was careful. Now just get off my back,” I barked.

  “What in the hell is the matter with you?” He gave me an uneasy going over with his eyes. “I take it your evening with David didn’t go well,” he remarked with a slight smile.

  “How did you know I was at David’s?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Where else would you go at two in the morning? And next time you’re going to take off in the middle of the night, take your cell phone with you.” He pulled my cell phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. “You’re father has called about a dozen times. It seems you missed your nine o’clock appointment with Dr. Appell this morning.”

  “It’s after nine? Shit! What did you tell him?” I asked as I took the cell phone from his hand.

  “That you left early this morning to go shopping at the French Market and probably forgot about it. But you should call him and tell him you’ve squared everything away with the shrink. We don’t need him showing up here, wanting to drag you off to the nearest psychiatric ward.”

  “You know damn well there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Yeah, but your father doesn’t know that. So you’d better call him.”

  I shook my head. “No, I should go and see him before he goes to work. He can be soothed better in person than over the phone.”

  “Just get back here as soon as you can.”

  “I won’t be long. I’ll just go over there, talk to him for a little while, and leave.”

  Dallas grinned at me. “And be careful what you say to him.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do? Blurt out that David is alive,” I argued.

  “I seem to remember when I was posing as your boyfriend last Christmas, you were the one who blurted out to your father that I wasn’t the architect I claimed to be, but a spy sent to find David’s killer. Anytime you’re around your family, Nicci, secrets are usually divulged.”

  I ignored him and started toward the back door. And then something David had said to me flashed across my mind. I stopped and turned back to Dallas.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me you’ve always wanted to take over Simon’s organization?”

  Dallas shrugged. “Would it have mattered? When I went to work at my family’s boatyard, I thought I was done with that life. So did you.” He paused and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Nicci, I don’t know what your problem is right now, but you need to realize that there’s a lot more at stake here than just you and David. If we get rid of Simon, there will be a huge mess to clean up. Our wants are immaterial. First the job and then your life.”

  “And what about your life when this is over? What will you be getting yourself into?”

  His frosty eyes locked on mine. “I am the job, Nicci. That’s my reality.” He motioned to the back door. “You’d better go and get ready. And take a shower too,” Dallas ordered. “You reek of oil paint.”

  ***

  After a shower and a change of clothes, I headed out the door and made my way to Canal Street. I pl
anned on taking one of the red trolleys down St. Charles Avenue to my father’s home on Jackson Avenue. As I sauntered down Royal Street, I took in the handful of tourists beginning to fill the sidewalks. All around me shopkeepers were opening their doors as street musicians were setting up for another day of entertaining visitors to our struggling city.

  Once I boarded the streetcar, I took a seat by an open window and enjoyed the caress of the cool spring breeze against my skin. The gentle rocking motion of the trolley car as it traveled down the tracks, lulled my frazzled nerves into a tranquil state. Throughout the brief ride, my mind drifted back to the previous night with David. I could feel the blush rising on my cheeks as I thought of his naked body next to mine. Then I was reminded of all the things he had said to me, and my blush faded as my exasperation returned. I became so distracted by my recollections that I almost missed my stop.

  As I made the short walk from the streetcar line to my father’s house, I took in the stately New Orleans Uptown homes along Jackson Avenue. And as my father’s white antebellum mansion rose before me, an uneasy feeling settled over me. I realized I was nervous about facing the disapproving glances of my worried father. I laughed as I pulled my keys from purse. After all the intrigue that had filled my life during the past few days, dealing with my father should be the least of my concerns.

  I used my key to unlock the front door and walked into the house. I threw my purse and keys on the small table by the front door. I knew the best place to find my father was in the kitchen with his newspaper and coffee in hand. I had started down the hallway when I heard the sounds of laughter coming from the other side of the kitchen door. A woman’s soft giggle, intermingled with my father’s deep bellow, made me quickly hasten my steps. When I pushed the kitchen door open, I found my father and Betty Webster, sitting at the kitchen table, and dressed only in their robes.

  “Nicci!” my father stood from the table, nearly dropping the coffee mug in his hand. “What are you doing here?” he cried out.

  I could not help but smile at his obvious embarrassment. “I still have a key, Dad.” I nodded to Betty. “Hello, Betty.” I paused and leaned against the doorframe. “I came by to talk to you about why I missed my appointment with Dr. Appell, but I see I should have called first.”

  Betty focused her light blue eyes on me and smiled sweetly. “It’s not what you think, dear.”

  My father put his coffee mug down on the table. “Of course it is what she thinks, Betty. My daughter is a grown woman and she should know about us.”

  I shook my head. “Betty, it’s fine, really. It’s better than fine.” I smiled at my father. “I’ve wanted him to find someone for a long time. I’m happy for both of you.”

  “Why don’t we all go to brunch?” Dad nervously offered as he came up to me. “It will give you two a chance to get to know each other.”

  “Don’t you have to go to the office?” I asked.

  Dad shrugged. “I can take the day off. I think I deserve it.”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “You haven’t taken a day off since I was ten and sprained my ankle when Uncle Lance tried to teach me how to roller skate.”

  He tilted his head thoughtfully to the side. “Maybe I should change my ways. Have more fun.”

  I looked from my father to Betty. “Why don’t you take Betty out to brunch, Dad? I think she would enjoy that. You two don’t need me tagging along.”

  I had always seen my father as a loner; silently mourning the passing of the woman he loved while refuting all others who wished to pursue his heart. But it turned out my father had been human after all, and his need for companionship had been no different from anyone else’s.

  “I’ll just leave you two to get ready,” I said, turning to go.

  I was about to exit the kitchen when my father’s voice stopped me.

  “Wait, Nic,” he pleaded behind me. “At least have some coffee with us.”

  I turned back to him. “No thanks, Dad. I should be getting back.”

  “Perhaps we can all get together another time,” Betty suggested.

  I nodded at her as my father walked up to me.

  “How did you get here?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Streetcar.”

  He started for the kitchen door. “I’ll drive you back.”

  But I grabbed his arm. “Go and finish your coffee. I’ll take the streetcar back to the Quarter.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Dad. You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” I whispered into his ear.

  He stepped back and furrowed his brow at me. “Do you mean you’ve sorted everything out between you and Dallas? Is that what’s going on?” He paused as he analyzed my features. “But to look at you I would think everything is fine. You’re glowing, Nicci.”

  I silently reprimanded myself. I needed to work harder at hiding my emotions. I frowned at him. “Dad, you’re exaggerating,” I stated, hoping to dissuade his exuberance.

  “I’ve been worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately. I thought it was just stress. First, you and Dallas moved out of the house. Then, you missed your appointment with Dr. Appell this morning, which is not at all like you. And now you come in here looking like you haven’t looked since…well, since David was alive.” He folded his arms over his chest. His green eyes looked lost and confused. “I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with you,” he explained.

  “Dad, one day all of this will make sense, but for right now there are things I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t tell me or won’t tell me?” he questioned in a deep voice. “We were always so close and I hate to think that we’ve grown so far apart. You used to talk to me about everything. Now I feel as if you don’t want to confide in me anymore.” He paused and took a deep breath. “When did you stop needing me, Nicci?”

  I threw my arms about his neck and hugged him. “Just give me some time to figure things out, Dad. I will never stop needing you,” I murmured into his cheek.

  From my purse in the hallway, I heard my cell phone ringing. I quickly left my father’s side and ran down the hall to the table by the front door. I pulled my phone from my purse and saw Dallas’s cell phone number light up the caller ID.

  “Dallas?” I said as I answered the phone.

  My father came down the hallway to my side.

  “Nicci,” Dallas said in a strained voice. “Get back here as soon as possible.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling a sense of dread rise up from my toes.

  “I don’t want to say over an open line. Just get your ass back here,” he hissed into the phone.

  “I’ll get Dad to take me—”

  “No,” Dallas shouted. “Keep Bill out of this. Come back now!” Then the line went dead.

  “What is it, Nicci?” my father asked as he walked up to me.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said as I grabbed my purse and ran for the door.

  My father followed me to the front door. “Wait, Nicci. There is something I need to tell you,” he called out behind me.

  But I didn’t stop to hear what he had to say. I ran out of the house and headed down the shell drive to the street. I ran until I caught the next streetcar heading back to the French Quarter.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “David’s here,” Dallas announced as soon as I came in through Val’s front door. “Seems Gerard showed up at his place about an hour ago. David fought with him and ended up putting a kitchen knife in his throat,” he explained as grabbed my hand and began dragging me through the living room.

  My heart stopped. “What?” I screamed.

  Dallas pulled me into the hallway and let go of my hand. “David’s in the kitchen. He’s been beaten to a pulp, but he’ll survive. I’ve got to go and find out what’s happened. Stay with him and don’t let anyone in the door.”

  “All right, Dallas,” I said as I reached for the wall to steady myself.

  Dallas placed his hand on my shoul
der. “Nicci, this means Simon knows you’re involved with David. He must have followed you to his carriage house at some point. I’m going over to his house to take a look around. Keep your cell phone with you. If anything happens, call me and not the police. We’ll never be able to explain any of this.” He nodded down the hallway. “Take care of him. He needs some fixing up.”

  He turned away and quickly headed back down the hallway to the front door.

  When I ran into the kitchen, I found David trying to stay upright in a chair by the breakfast table. His white button down shirt was halfway open and covered in blood. He was holding a bag filled with ice on the right side of his face. I walked over to the table and sat down next to him. Then I saw his .357 Magnum lying on the table in front of him. I gently brushed the comma of wavy, brown hair away from his face and inspected the damage. His right eye was almost closed shut and his bottom lip was swollen and oozing blood. I could see a large purple bruise forming on the left side of his rib cage. When I touched his red and swollen left hand, resting on the table before me, his body stirred.

  He opened his left eye and lowered the bag of ice from his face.

  “What happened?” I asked as I inspected his bruised right cheek.

  He sighed and winced slightly. “Gerard showed up when I was painting. I thought it was George coming to see me. He jumped me on the stairs. We wrestled all over the first floor until I finally stabbed him in the kitchen. He had a gun but I knocked it away somewhere in the living room. The house is a mess. After grabbing my ID and my gun, I got the hell out of there.” He sat up and grabbed his left arm. “Son of a bitch hits like an anvil. He dislocated my shoulder when he pinned me to the floor.”

  My heart ached as I watched David struggling to get comfortable before me. We had been through so much and in an instant he could have been taken from me. Again. The thought was too much to comprehend. If I ever lost David for good, I knew I would not survive it.