No Good Deed

by Matthews, Susanne

  Alexa was a case, pure and simple. She’d resurrected his self-esteem, made him feel useful again, something he needed after almost getting himself killed, and he wouldn’t let her down. Zabat was involved in this, even if he wasn’t the one pulling the strings. Three years ago, Mike had allowed his obsession with the man to control him, and the price he’d paid for his actions had been higher than any man should have to pay. While getting the bastard was still a priority, one he wouldn’t set aside until Zabat was behind bars, he wouldn’t let whoever was calling the shots this time claim the life of another woman under his protection.

  If he could give Alexa a pass on talking about Richard, he would, but the last thing they needed between them were any more secrets. At least he understood why she’d jumped down his throat about Callaghan’s death. She’d learned to distrust men, starting with her own dad. She automatically expected them to lie to her. That was going to be a hell of a barrier to break down.

  Dressed and ready to hear the rest of the story, Mike entered the kitchen. Alexa stood at the counter, an old-fashioned handheld electric mixer whirring away.

  “What are you making?”

  “Brownies,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “I feel the need for chocolate coming on. Those bonbons you found are good, but they don’t satisfy.” She used her head to indicate the clothes he carried. “Just put them on the washer. I need to do some laundry, too. Since you’re here, I’ll even use the dryer. The water’s boiled if you want more coffee.”

  “Thanks. Cookies yesterday, brownies today. It’s been a while since I’ve had this many homemade treats. I’m going to get fat.”

  “I doubt that. You probably have one of those souped-up metabolisms. Before I was imprisoned here, I couldn’t cook or bake to save my soul. The nuns cooked from scratch, and once I was allowed out of my cell, I learned to do so from them. Richard would be impressed. He was always trying to domesticate me—you know, the old barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen line—but I wasn’t ready to be a mother yet. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”

  “Feel like telling me about him now?” She hadn’t mentioned Thea again, but eventually, he would have to tell her about his wife. Maybe after she bared her soul, he would find it easier to do the same.

  “Not really. I’ve tried for months to forget all about him, but it seems not an hour goes by that something here doesn’t bring him to mind.” She turned off the beaters, and her gaze met his. “While I think you’ve had enough of my sob story, I can appreciate why you need to hear the gory details.”

  “Only what I need to know to understand your fear,” he said softly.

  She nodded, added chocolate chips to the batter, and folded them in.

  “I met Richard at a charity fundraiser for Toronto’s Hospital for Sick Children. One of my students was involved in a bad accident, and Richard was one of the attending physicians. It was about a month after I dumped Jonah, so I was feeling a little down on myself. Mom had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Anderson couldn’t handle what was happening, and instead of bonding with me to help Mom through it, he froze me out. I was looking for someone who could take away the pain, and Richard fit the bill, or so I thought. He’s thirty years older than I am, but he was alone and I thought he needed me as much as I needed him. God, that sounds so sick now.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mike said, making himself another mug of coffee and watching her add crushed nuts to the thick batter. “Everyone needs to be consoled after bad things happen. Besides, after a while, age doesn’t matter. It’s just a state of mind.”

  She shook her head. “I was flattered by the attention. He was suave and sophisticated, with enough charisma to sell charcoal to Satan. I was thrilled he’d even noticed me. I mean, he was the man of the hour, one of the movers and shakers in town. At first, I felt guilty for monopolizing him. We spent most of the event chatting, or rather I did, and when it was over, he invited me to join him for dinner. By the end of the evening, he knew absolutely everything there was to know about me. Since I’d gone to the hospital in a cab, he insisted on seeing me home. He shook my hand when he left. I was amazed—a man who bought you dinner and didn’t expect to get laid as a thank-you.” She blushed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know a few people who agree with that philosophy. What happened next?”

  “For a couple of weeks, nothing, and I figured it had been a pity date, but then a dozen painted roses arrived at the school along with a card saying he’d been out of town and would like to see me again. If I felt the same, I should give him a call. His cell number was on the card. What can I say? Roses aren’t my favorite, but these were unique and gorgeous.”

  “Hey, none of this is on you. That’s one of the oldest cons in the book. Find someone who’s vulnerable, sweep her off her feet, and then ignore her. After she’s suffered a bit, toss her another crumb. That’s the way it went, isn’t it?”

  He’d heard similar stories from some of the women whose cases he’d worked before going undercover. For the lucky ones, the perps had wanted only their money, but for others they’d taken everything, including their peace of mind and self-respect. It was like fishing—reel them in, let them play a bit, and then let go, only to reel them in again, anchoring the hook deeper and deeper.

  “More or less. He would take me to exciting places, introduce me to famous people, and then he’d disappear for a week or two. When he came back, he’d send some kind of exotic bouquet of flowers and arrange to see me again at some place I could only dream of going. Richard was all about grand gestures. He had money, and while he didn’t exactly flaunt it, he certainly used it to leave people in awe of him. After he’d been away, there would always be a token of his esteem. He called them ‘apology gifts’ because he’d meant to call before leaving but hadn’t had time.”

  “Where did he go on short notice like that?”

  “He works with Doctors Without Borders. I was really proud of what he was doing, and I think that’s why I was so ready to forgive his slights.”

  “So far, for the most part, he sounds like a decent man if maybe a touch arrogant and controlling, but something tells me there’s more to it than this.”

  She didn’t say anything. Instead, she poured the batter into the cake pan, put it in the oven, and set the egg timer before sitting at the table, her cooling cup of tea in front of her. From her stiff shoulders, he knew she wasn’t anxious to continue the tale. He smiled encouragingly.

  “Take your time. I’m not in any rush.”

  “After a few months, he suggested dinner at his place. We ended up in bed, but the sex wasn’t good. He was rougher than I was used to,” she said, her cheeks red with her admission.

  “Let me guess.” His voice dripped with the sarcasm he couldn’t hide. “He apologized and claimed he couldn’t hold himself back because he was too much in love with you.”

  She stared at him, her eyebrows raised, her head cocked to one side, and her eyes open wide.

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve heard it before from rapists trying to justify their behavior. So what happened next?”

  “I decided we wouldn’t suit and ended it. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He would show up at school with flowers, a new piece of jewelry, tickets to a play, or call me day and night, begging me to take him back.”

  “You do realize what you’re describing is classic stalker behavior?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right. Despite everything, I was lonely and my friends convinced me I was crazy not to forgive him. I accepted his apology. For weeks, he was a perfect gentleman. The sex wasn’t great—not as rough as it had been—but by then I believed the problem was mine. I thought I was in love, and if there were minor issues, well, no relationship is perfect.”

  “Every couple has problems,” he agreed. He and Thea had their share of arguments over his
job.

  She nodded. “I guess. Then Anderson died—a massive coronary at work—and Mom went downhill fast. She refused her cancer treatments. Three weeks later, she was dead. I was devastated. I’d never felt so alone in my life. Richard was there every step of the way, and I was grateful for it. He dealt with the paperwork and arranged the funeral while I sat there numb, lost again the way I’d been when my dad had died. He consoled me when I cried, and I was convinced I needed him. When Richard asked me to marry him and move in with him, I agreed. I didn’t want to be alone. And because of that weak moment, I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “I take it he changed again? Reverted to the aggressor once more.”

  She nodded. “Can we take a break? I want to get the laundry started and . . . well, I just need a little time before I tell you the rest of the story.”

  “No problem. Those brownies smell awesome, by the way,” he said, hoping to distract her. At the moment, she reminded him of a puppy who’d been kicked. “How about we watch another movie, and you can finish the story after lunch?”

  “I would appreciate that. Some things are harder to share than others. The brownies should be done soon. I’ll ice them, and we can have them for dessert. You’re a very nice man, Michael Delorme.” She stood, kissed him on the cheek, and then, using her crutches, went into the laundry room.

  Mike stared after her, his cheek burning under the soft touch of her lips. He could only imagine what she would tell him next. His hands fisted at his side. Richard Fields had better stay far, far away from him.

  Chapter Ten

  Alexa sat in the recliner with her knitting needles clicking as fast as she could manage, trying to finish the second mitten. It didn’t take a genius to know she needed something to cover her hands when she left here, and although the yarn was thin, it was pure wool and the stitches were small and tight, so they should be warm enough.

  Mike had taken another turn outside, but when he’d come in, he’d been as unsettled as a cat in a yard full of dogs. He’d brought in a set of snowshoes he’d found in the shed, and then went back outside to look for duct tape in the garage. After that, he’d gone up into the attic. She didn’t buy his “I’m just nosy, I guess” answer. He was searching for something specific, something he didn’t want her to know about. She should ask him what he was looking for, but from the scowl on his face, she wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer.

  “Here,” Mike said, handing her a glass of the white wine he’d chilled earlier, still jittery despite his attempt to appear calm.

  “Thanks.” She took a sip. “I’ve missed this,” she said and chuckled. “Maybe that means I needed to dry out. Richard said a meal wasn’t civilized without wine.”

  “I don’t know if I agree with that,” Mike answered, his brow furrowed. “A glass of wine now and then is fine, but sometimes, you just need a beer. Richard sounds like a snob to me.”

  “That’s an understatement. When we were dating, he was careful to keep his more scathing comments to himself, but once we got deeply involved, he wasn’t quite so circumspect. Richard has no use for people he considers his inferiors—and believe me, he has far more inferiors than equals. I doubt he has anyone he considers superior though. He’s ultra-conservative in his beliefs, often bemoaning the fact that women no longer know their places in the scheme of things. As far as his political associations go, whoever keeps the most money in his pockets gets his vote.” She sighed. “Talking about him like this, looking at him without the damn rose-colored glasses, makes me feel like an even bigger fool. The real Richard was in everything he said and did when he was alone with me.”

  “Some people hide the ugliness inside them better than others,” Mike said. “Richard sounds like one of those. You were alone and vulnerable, and just like a wolf coming across an injured deer, he pounced on you. Feel like telling me the rest of the story—the reason you cut and run?”

  “If you’ll tell me what you’re really looking for. You’ve gone through this place like a fine-toothed comb.”

  Mike shrugged, but his shoulders remained tense. “It’s no big secret. I was looking for mittens,” he admitted, but he didn’t make eye contact, so there was something he was keeping from her. “I also found some tracks near the shed.”

  “Wolves?” she asked, frowning. If the wolves were that close, it could affect their escape, and that might account for his concern.

  “I could be wrong and they’re only wild dogs.”

  “Wouldn’t they be just as dangerous?”

  “Maybe, but they’d be more frightened of us. That’s my story, what’s yours?”

  She huffed out a breath, far from satisfied with his answer, but since she couldn’t imagine what else would upset him, she nodded.

  “Fine. Keep your secret this time. You’re probably sugarcoating the danger, but I’ll let it pass—for now.” She picked up her needles and yarn and resumed her knitting. “Shortly before I moved in with Richard, I started having second thoughts. It seemed too fast, too final. He told me I needed to sell most of my belongings since there wasn’t room for them in the apartment. I wasn’t ready to give away the last of my old life, the things that had been my mother’s . . . Instead of selling everything, I stored it in a friend’s basement and brought with me the things I couldn’t bear to part with. When he found out I’d done that, he was none too happy, but then, my friends had a fire, and I lost everything anyway.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Arson?”

  “That thought crossed my mind, but no. It was ruled an accidental fire because of faulty wiring. The house was over a hundred years old. They got a fantastic settlement since they sued the house inspector who’d somehow missed it, and I got some insurance money, although the things I lost can never be replaced. I guess that was my warning that things weren’t what I hoped they would be. I should’ve packed my bags and left, but . . . For the first few weeks, everything was fine, but then he became demanding again. My clothes were either too slutty or too dowdy, and I had to replace them at this place or that one. My car wasn’t a model he liked, my hair needed highlights, but I couldn’t go to the hairdresser I’d used before . . . things like that. The girls at school thought I was crazy complaining about getting designer clothes and a new car.”

  “It sounds to me like he was trying to buy your affection.”

  “Maybe, but I felt as if he was erasing the real me. At first, I tried to justify it with the fact that he had an image and a reputation to uphold, but now that I think about it, he simply needed to control every single aspect of my life. Of course, since I was his fiancée, I had to project his image, not mine.”

  “Did he pick your friends, too?”

  She nodded, lips compressed. “It happened so gradually that I didn’t notice until it was too late. Whenever I had something scheduled with my friends, he would have something else planned for us. In the end, my friends stopped calling.”

  How could she have let that happen? Memories of happier times flooded her, and she gazed at the fire in the grate, not seeing the flames but the faces of the companions she’d lost.

  “Alexa?”

  “Sorry. Woolgathering,” she said and shook her head. “Richard didn’t believe in working women, especially not his ‘woman,’ as he put it. He wanted me to quit teaching, and we had a huge argument. He was furious . . . He didn’t hit me, but the potential to do so was there. While he was on a case abroad, I packed a bag, left him a note saying I needed time to think matters over, and went to stay with a colleague. When Richard got back, he came to the school with a huge bouquet of tropical flowers and a diamond bracelet. He apologized, begged me to come back to him, promised to enroll in an anger management course and never complain about my teaching again. He seemed so crushed, looking at me with those lost puppy dog eyes . . . I believed him.”

  “And did he?”

  “Did he what? Enroll in the course? No, apparently it was full and he was going to do it online instead.”
>
  “I was wondering about your teaching.”

  “Not directly, no, but a few weeks after that, the jealous rages began if I so much as smiled at another man. At one point, I believed he was responsible for the hit and run that almost killed my friend’s brother, a teacher at the school. He’d been living with her when I moved in for that week. Richard mentioned the accident before I even heard about it, but I thought that was crazy.”

  “That could’ve been a coincidence, but I don’t believe in them. So, you think he may have paid someone to run the man down? Would he know who to call to get something like that done?”

  She nodded. “He had an eclectic group of friends; some of them made me uncomfortable, but we didn’t really socialize with them. When they dropped by the loft, Richard would take them into his office and close the door. No doubt one of them would know how to hire a hit man, if you want to call it that. Doing so wouldn’t even make a dent in Richard’s pocket change.”

  “Go on,” he said.

  Taking a sip of wine, she swallowed her nerves with the chardonnay. “Like every other woman caught in a bad situation, I wanted to believe it would pass, and the suave, sophisticated man I’d fallen in love with would return. But the longer we were together, the moodier he became. At first, I put Richard’s erratic behavior down to stress. One day he would be on top of the world, wining and dining me, giving me gifts, and then he’d go into furious rages. He worked long hours, and at times when he came home, he’d call me Camilla—that was his dead wife’s name. It’s no secret physicians sometimes get hooked on opiates and other drugs, so I confronted him about it, and he went berserk. It was the first time he actually attacked me physically. He grabbed me and shook me so hard, his fingers imprinted themselves in my arms. He almost dislocated my shoulder. I still don’t have full mobility because he refused to let me have someone else look at it.”

  The kitchen disappeared as she relived the hell her life had been with Richard, recounting one horrifying moment after another. She could smell the woodsy cologne he wore and hear the contempt in his voice.