The Wicked and the Wondrous

by Christine Feehan

  “Is that when they picked up another bass player?” Trevor guessed.

  Jessica nodded. “The band really took off while Paul was cleaning himself up and they had to have another bass player, so Don was brought in. Dillon’s voice rocketed them into stardom. But he wouldn’t leave Paul behind. Your father gave Paul a job working in the studio and eventually made a place for him in the band. And when Dillon needed him most, Paul came through.”

  “Did Paul know Vivian?” Tara’s question was hesitant.

  Jessica realized Vivian still managed to bring tension into a room years after her death. “Yes he did, honey,” she confirmed gently. “All of the members of the band knew Vivian. Paul didn’t do all the tours with them so he often stayed here, seeing to things at home. He knew her better than most.” And despised her. Jessica remembered the terrible arguments and Vivian’s endless tirades. Paul had tried to keep her under control, tried to help Rita and Jessica keep the twins safe when she brought her friends in.

  “Does he think my father murdered Vivian and that man she was with, like the newspaper said?”

  Jessica swung her head around, her temper rising until she saw Tara’s bent head. Slowly she let her breath out. How else was Tara going to learn the truth about her father if she couldn’t ask questions? “Honey, you know most of those tabloids don’t tell the truth, right? They sensationalize things, write misleading headlines and articles to grab people’s attention. It wasn’t any different when your father was at the height of his career. The tabloids twisted all the facts, made it sound as if Dillon found your mother in bed with another man. They made it sound like he shot them both and then burned down his own house to cover the murders. It didn’t happen like that at all.” Jessica curved her arm around Tara’s shoulders and pulled her close, hugging her. “Your father was acquitted at the trial. He had nothing to do with the shooting or the fire. He wasn’t even in the house when it all happened.”

  “What did happen, Jess?” Trevor asked, his piercing blue gaze meeting hers steadily. “Why wouldn’t you ever tell us?”

  “We’re not babies,” Tara pointed out, but she cuddled closer to Jessica’s warmth, clearly for comfort.

  Jessica shook her head. “I would prefer your father tell you about that night, not me.”

  “We’ll believe you, Jess,” Trevor said. “You turn beet red if you try to lie. We don’t know our father. We don’t know Paul. Mama Rita wouldn’t say a word about it. You know it’s time you told us the truth if someone is sending us newspapers filled with lies and calling us on the phone telling more lies.”

  “It’s the three of us, Jessie,” Tara added. “It’s always been the three of us. We’re a family. We want you to tell us.”

  Jessica was proud of them, proud of the way they were attempting to handle a volatile and frightening situation. And she heard the love in their voices, felt the answering emotion welling up in her. They weren’t babies anymore, and they were right, they deserved to know the truth. She didn’t know if Dillon would ever tell them.

  Jessica took a deep breath, then she began. “There was a party at the house that night. Your father had been gone for months on a world tour and Vivian often invited her friends over. I didn’t know her very well.” The fact was, Jessica had never understood Dillon’s relationship with his wife. Vivian had left the twins with Rita from almost the moment they were born so she could tour with the band. She rarely returned home the first three years of their lives. Yet during the last year of her life she had stayed home, the band’s manager refusing to allow her to travel with them due to her violent mood swings and psychotic behavior.

  “You’ve gone quiet again, Jessica,” Trevor prompted.

  “The fact is, Vivian drank too much and partied very heavily. Your father knew about her drinking, but she threatened him with you. She said she’d leave him, take you with her, and get a restraining order so he couldn’t see you. She knew people who would take money in return for testimony against Dillon. He was often on the road, and bands, especially successful ones, always have reputations.”

  “You’re saying he was afraid to risk a court fight,” Trevor said, summing it up.

  Jessica smiled at him. “Exactly. He was afraid the court would say you had to live with Vivian and he wouldn’t be able to control what was happening to you if he didn’t have custody. By staying with her, he hoped he could keep her contained. It worked for a while.” Vivian didn’t want to be home, she preferred the nightlife and the clubs of the cities. It was only during the last year, when the twins were five, that Vivian had returned home, unable to keep up appearances.

  “That night, Jess,” Trevor prompted.

  Jessica sighed. There was no getting around telling them what they wanted to know. The twins were very persistent. “There was a party going on.” She chose her words very carefully. “Your father came home early. There was a terrible fight between him and your mother, and he left the house to cool off. He made up his mind that he would leave Vivian and she knew it. There were candles everywhere. The fire inspector said the drapes caught fire and it spread fast, because there was alcohol on the furniture and the walls. The party was very wild. No one knows for certain where the gun came from or who shot whom first. But witnesses, including me, testified that Dillon had left the house. He ran back when he saw the flames and he rushed inside because he couldn’t find you.”

  Jessica looked down at her hands. “I had taken you out a window on the cliff side of the house and he didn’t know. He thought you were still inside so he went into the burning house.”

  Tara gasped, one hand covering her mouth to stop any sound but her eyes were glistening with tears.

  “How did he get out?” Trevor asked, a lump in his throat. He couldn’t get the sight of his father’s terrible scars out of his mind. “And how could he make himself go into a burning house?”

  Jessica leaned close to them. “Because that’s how courageous your father is, how absolutely dependable, and that’s how much he loves both of you.”

  “Did the house fall down on him?” Tara asked.

  “They said he came out on fire, that Paul and Brian tackled him and put out the flames with their own hands. There were people on the island then, guards and groundskeepers who had all come to help. The helicopters had arrived I think. I just remember it being so loud, so angry…” her voice trailed off.

  Trevor reached up and caught her hand. “I hate that sad look you get sometimes, Jess. You’re always there for us. You always have been.”

  Tara kissed her cheek. “Me, too, I feel the same way.”

  “So no one really knows who shot our mother and her friends,” Trevor concluded. “It’s still a big mystery. But you saved our lives, Jess. And our father was willing to risk his life to save us. Did you see him after he came out of the house?”

  Jessica closed her eyes, turned her head away from them. “Yes, I saw him.” Her voice was barely audible.

  The twins exchanged a long look. Tara took the initiative, wanting to wipe away the sorrow Jessica was so clearly feeling. “Now, tell us the story of the Christmas miracle. The one Mama Rita always told us. I love that story.”

  “Me, too. You said we were coming here for our miracle, Jess,” Trevor said, “tell us the story so we can believe.”

  “We’re all going to be too tired to get up tomorrow,” Jessica pointed out. She slipped beneath the covers and flicked off the light. “You already believe in miracles, I helped raise you right. It’s your father who doesn’t know what can happen at Christmas, but we’re going to teach him a lesson. I’ll tell the story another time, when I’m not so darned sleepy. Goodnight you two.”

  Trevor laughed softly. “Cluck cluck. Jessica hates it when we get sappy.”

  The pillow found him even in the dark.

  chapter

  4

  BRIAN PHILLIPS WAS FLIPPING pancakes in the kitchen when Jessica entered the room with Tara and Trevor early the next evening. She grinned
at him in greeting. “Brian! How wonderful to see you again!”

  Brian spun around, and missed a pancake as it came flying down to splat on the counter. “Jessica!” He swooped her up, hugged her hard. He was a big man, the drummer for HereAfter. She had forgotten how strong he was until he nearly broke her ribs with his hard, good-natured squeeze. With his reddish hair and stocky body, he always had reminded Jessica of a boxer fresh from Ireland. At times she even heard the lilt in his voice. “My God, girl, you look beautiful. How long has it been?” There was a moment of silence as both of them remembered the last time they had seen one another.

  Jessica resolutely forced a smile. “Brian, you must remember Tara and Trevor, Dillon’s children. We were so exhausted we slept the day away. I see you’re serving breakfast for dinner.” She was still in the circle of Brian’s arms as she turned to include the twins in the greeting. Her smile faltered as she met a pair of ice-cold eyes over the heads of the children.

  Dillon lounged in the doorway, his body posture deceptively lazy and casual. His eyes were intent, watchful, focused on her, and there was a hint of something dangerous to the edge of his mouth. Jessica’s green gaze locked with his. Her breathing was instantly impaired, her breath catching in her lungs. He had that effect on her. Dillon was wearing faded blue jeans, a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, and thin leather gloves. He looked unmercifully handsome. His hair was damp from his shower and he was barefoot. She had forgotten that about him, how he liked to be without shoes in the house. Butterfly wings fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “Dillon.”

  Jessica ripped out his heart, whatever heart he had left, with her mere presence in his home. Dillon could hardly bear to look at her, to see her beauty, to see the woman she had become. Her hair was a blend of red and gold silk, falling around her face. A man could lose himself in her eyes. And her mouth…If Brian didn’t take his hands off of her very, very soon Dillon feared he might give in to the terrible violence that always seemed to be swirling so close to the surface. Her green eyes met his across the room and she murmured his name again. Softly. Barely audible, yet the way she whispered his name tightened every muscle in his body.

  The twins whirled around, Tara reaching out to take Trevor’s arm for support as she faced her father.

  Dillon’s gaze reluctantly left Jessica’s face to move broodingly over the twins. He didn’t smile, didn’t change expression. “Trevor and Tara, you’ve certainly grown.” A muscle jerked along his jaw but otherwise he gave no indication of the emotions he was feeling. He wasn’t certain he could do this, look at them, see the look in their eyes, face up to his past failures, face the utter and total revulsion that he had seen in Tara’s eyes the night before.

  Trevor’s gaze flickered uncertainly toward Jessica before he stepped forward, thrusting out his hand toward his father. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

  Jessica watched Dillon closely, willing him to pull his son into a hug. To at least smile at the boy. Instead, he shook hands briefly. “It’s good to see you, too. I understand you’re here to celebrate Christmas with me.” Dillon glanced at Tara. “I guess that means you’ll be wanting a tree.”

  Tara smiled shyly. “It’s sort of an accepted practice.”

  He nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I celebrated Christmas. I’m a little rusty when it comes to holiday festivities.” His gaze had strayed back to Jessica and he silently damned himself for his lack of control.

  “Tara will make sure you remember every little detail about Christmas,” Trevor said with a laugh, nudging his sister. “It’s her favorite holiday.”

  “I’ll count on you, then, Tara,” Dillon said with his customary charm, still watching Jessica intently. A smile slipped out. Menacing. Threatening. “If you can manage to take your hands off Jess, Brian, maybe we can all share those pancakes.” There was a distinct edge to his voice. “We keep strange hours here, especially now that we’re recording. I prefer to work at night and sleep during the day.”

  Tara glanced at her brother and mouthed, “Vampire.”

  Trevor grinned at her, covering for his twin with a diversion. “I take it we get pancakes for dinner.”

  “You’ll grow to love them,” Brian assured. He laughed heartily and squeezed Jessica’s shoulders quickly before dropping his arms. “She’s turned into a real beauty, Dillon.” He leered at Jessica. “I don’t know if I mentioned to you or not, that I’m recently divorced.”

  “Ever the lady’s man,” Jessica patted his cheek, determined not to let Dillon shake her confidence. “What was that, your third or fourth wife?”

  “Oh, the pain of the arrows you sling, Jessica girl.” Brian clutched his heart and winked at Trevor. “She never lets anything slip by, I’ll bet.”

  Trevor grinned at him, wide and engaging, that famous Wentworth smile that Jessica knew so well. “Not a single thing, so be careful around her,” he cautioned. “I’m a fairly good cook. I can help you with the pancakes. Don’t let Jessie, even if she offers. The mere thought of her cooking anything is scary.” He shuddered dramatically.

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “He should be in acting.” She was aware of Tara inching closer to her for comfort, aware of the tension in the room despite the banter. Trying to ignore Dillon, she drew the child to her and hugged her encouragingly as her father should have done. “Trevor turns traitor when he’s in the company of other men, have you noticed?”

  “I’m stating a fact,” Trevor denied. “She sets the popcorn on fire in the microwave whenever we let her pop it.”

  “It’s not my fault the popcorn behaves unpredictably when it’s my turn to pop it,” Jessica pointed out.

  She stole a glance at Dillon. He was watching her intently, just as she suspected he was. When she inhaled, she took his clean, masculine scent into her lungs. He dominated the room simply by standing there, wrapped in his silence. Awareness spread through her body, an unfamiliar heat that thickened her blood and left her strangely restless.

  “Can anyone join in the fun?”

  The blood drained out of Jessica’s face. She felt it, felt herself go pale as she turned slowly to face that strident voice. Vivian’s voice. The woman was tall and model thin. Platinum blond hair was swept up onto her head and she wore scarlet lipstick. Jessica noticed her long nails were polished the exact same shade. Jessica swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and looked to Dillon for help.

  “Brenda.” Dillon said the woman’s name deliberately, needing to wipe the fear out of Jessica’s eyes. “Jess, I don’t believe you ever had the chance to meet Vivian’s sister. Brenda, this is Jessica Fitzpatrick and these are my children, Trevor and Tara.”

  The twins looked at one another and then at Jessica. Trevor put his arm around Tara. “We have an aunt, Jessie?”

  “Apparently,” Jessica said, her gaze on Dillon. She had never seen Brenda in her life. She had a vague recollection of someone mentioning her, but Brenda certainly had never come to see the children.

  “Of course I’m your aunt,” Brenda announced, waving her hand airily. “But I travel quite a bit and just haven’t gotten around to visiting. No pancakes for me, Brian, just coffee.” She walked across the kitchen and threw herself into a chair as if she were exhausted. “I had no idea the little darlings were coming, Dillon.” She blew him a kiss. “You should have told me. They certainly take after you, don’t they?”

  “Must have been a lot of traveling,” Trevor muttered, leaning into Jessica. He quirked an eyebrow at her, half amused, half annoyed, in a way that was very reminiscent of his father.

  Jessica felt Tara tremble and immediately brushed the top of her head with a kiss. “It isn’t quite dark yet, honey, would you like to go for a short walk? The storm’s passed over us and it would be fun to show you how beautiful the island is.”

  “Don’t leave on my account,” Brenda said, “I don’t get along with kiddies. I make no apologies for it. I need coffee, for heaven’s sake, can’t one of you manage to bring me a cup?�
�� Her voice rose, a familiar pitch that was etched for all time in Jessica’s memory. “Robert, the lazy slug, is still in bed.” She yawned and leveled her gaze at Dillon. “You’ve turned us all around so we don’t know whether it’s morning or night anymore. My poor husband can’t get out of bed.”

  “Are you here for Christmas?” Trevor ventured, uncertain what to say, but instinctively wanting to find a way to smooth out the situation.

  “Christmas?” It was Brian who answered derisively. “Brenda doesn’t know what Christmas is, besides a day she expects to be showered with gifts. She’s here for more money, aren’t you, my dear? She’s gone through Robert’s money and the insurance money, so she dropped by with her hand out.”

  “So true.” Brenda shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned with Brian’s harsh assessment of her. “Money is the bane of all existence.”

  “She has an insurance policy on everyone, don’t you, Brenda,” Brian accused. “Me, Dillon,” he indicated the twins with his jaw, his eyes glittering at her, “the kids. Poor Robert is probably worth far more dead than alive. What do you have on him, a cool million?”

  Brenda raised one eyebrow, blew another kiss at him. “Of course, darling, it’s just good sense. I figured you’d go first with your horrendous driving abilities, but, alas, no luck so far.”

  Brian glared at her. “You’re a cold woman, Brenda.”

  “You didn’t used to think so, babe.”

  Jessica stared at her. Insurance policy on the kids. On Dillon. She didn’t dare look at Dillon; he would know exactly the suspicion going through her mind.

  Brenda gave a tinkling laugh. “Don’t look so shocked, Jessica, dear. Brian and I are old friends. It ended badly and he can’t forgive me.” She inspected her long nails. “He actually adores me and still wants me. I adore him, but choosing Robert was a good decision. He balances me.” She lifted her head, moaning pathetically, her eyes pleading. “I could kill for a cup of coffee.”