doesn’t necessarily blink at infidelity.”
“It’s all I’ve got,” she added. “Are you coming with me or not?”
“Let’s get it over with,” he said as he felt around under the seat with his right hand, reassured when his fingers brushed the smooth leather of the holster into which he’d slid his .38 over twelve hours earlier when they’d stopped at his cabin.
* * *
SHE KNEW HER way around the city, taking backstreets, avoiding long-winded lights, anxious now to get this over with.
“You can’t just walk into his house and have a simple conversation with him, you know,” Chance said.
She flashed him a quick look. He’d all but disappeared in his dark clothes in the dark car. Just the glint of the whites of his eyes and the occasional street lamp illuminating his face. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” she said. “I’m going to tell him I know about his affair with Valentine. That’s my leverage.”
“He’ll chew you up and spit you at the police department.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s a chance I have to take. Maybe he’ll listen to reason.”
“Maybe he’ll listen to Smith and Wesson,” Chance said, and took the gun from under the seat. The thought of the two of them eye-to-eye with a gun in the middle made her anxiety level shoot through the roof.
She pulled the car over to the side of the road, parking between street lamps where darkness prevailed.
“We’re here?” Chance said, looking around.
“No. The house is a block over. I didn’t want anyone to recognize my car. Come on.”
They walked quickly. She knew a shortcut that consisted of a nature trail owned by the home owners’ association and took him that way. They erupted onto the street she’d called home for five years. The thought of stepping foot on Jeremy’s property made her physically ill. The only worse scenario was losing Charlie. She would not leave here until she’d at least seen him. “I’m going to try reason,” she muttered to herself as they drew closer.
Chance sighed. “Nothing you’ve said about this guy screams reason, Lily. Listen, let me go in first,” he added. He shoved the gun into the back of his jeans. “I’ll be reasonable. He won’t know who I am so he won’t be expecting anything. I can at least make sure Charlie is in the house and—”
“No,” she said softly but with fire in her tone, pulling on his arm to stop him from proceeding. “The house is right up there. Someone could be guarding the gate. You stay back here so he doesn’t see you.”
“Have you forgotten what your husband did to you, Lily? Are you crazy?”
“He’s not going to risk killing me in his own home.”
“You are crazy. You’ve told me what he did to you in his own home.”
“I was a lot more timid back then. And I didn’t have Valentine Richards to use as ammunition. Please, Chance, just wait for me. Like you said on the ranch, I might need someone to bail me out of jail.”
With that, she continued walking, relieved beyond belief when Chance didn’t follow. She didn’t look back until she reached the gate. There was no sign of Chance.
“Evening,” a man said.
She turned to face the gate. She’d never seen the man standing there.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s McCord,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jeremy Block’s estranged wife. I need to talk to him.”
McCord’s face registered surprise as thick eyebrows wrinkled his brow. He was a stocky, fifty-year-old guy with an ex-boxer’s nose and a smoker’s gravelly voice. “I reckon he’ll be surprised to see you.” He rolled open the gate for her and she followed him up the walkway to the big black door.
“Mr. Block is probably in the study,” McCord said as he gestured for her to enter the house. Stepping inside felt like entering a time warp.
“Is anyone else in the house?”
“Besides me? Just the gal Mr. Block hired to watch the kid.”
“Then Charlie is here,” she said, her gaze flying up the stairs. She veered that direction but McCord stepped in front of her.
“He’s here. But you came to see his father, right?”
“After I say good-night to my boy,” she said.
“No can do,” McCord said and started to reach for her arm to prevent her from climbing the stairs. She dodged his grasp, walked to the study and yanked open the door.
Jeremy glanced up from his seat behind his desk. He was on the phone.
“Wait outside,” he barked, his gaze traveling from Lily to McCord. “I’m in the middle of something important.” He turned in his swivel chair so that his back was toward them. McCord grabbed Lily’s arm and pulled her out of the room. He closed the door and pointed at a chair set against the wall.
Could she get past him and run up the stairs? Charlie was up there, so close now she could almost feel him in her arms.
“Don’t try it,” McCord said, accurately reading her body language.”
“Please, Mr. McCord. Charlie is my child.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” McCord said and firmly pushed her down onto a chair. He planted himself square in front of her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
For twenty-one minutes, according to the clock in the foyer, Jeremy kept them waiting. Lily had no choice but to accept the fact she wasn’t getting past McCord, but that didn’t keep her gaze from repeatedly traveling to the second floor and the open balcony railing that surrounded it. She was so nervous and stressed her hands trembled in her lap and she had to clench them together to keep herself from exploding. More than once, she caught McCord casting her a distasteful glance.
What exactly had he been told about her?
At last Jeremy’s voice told them to come into his study.
“You can leave,” he told McCord as they entered. McCord turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Looking straight at Lily, Jeremy trotted out what she called his campaign smile. “Well, look who came home,” he said. He did not get to his feet. His sandy-colored hair showed a few gray streaks, his eyes were so blue she knew he wore contact lenses to boost the color. He was dressed for the office in a custom-made gray suit. It was one of the more expensive worsted wools, which probably meant he had been in court that day.
Was
