Broken (39 page)

When he stormed out from behind his desk, she spread her feet and lifted her chin. “What’s the matter, Jimmy? Not happy to see your beloved sister-in-law? Oh, wait . . . I’m the one you wanted dead. I guess you
aren’t
happy to see me.”

“Samantha, where is my wife?” he snarled.

He didn’t even bother replying to her last two comments, but she hadn’t expected he’d just up and confess. Even pissed off, he was too smart for that.

“Sam,” she corrected. She hated it when people called her Samantha—only her mother had ever been able to do so without Sam gritting her teeth over it.

“Where is my
wife
?” James demanded again.

His face was florid, a vein throbbing right by his temple. Idly, she wondered if he had any big problems with stress. If he did, and she pushed him to the boiling point, did that make her a bad person? If he dropped dead of a heart attack, that wasn’t really her fault . . . right?

Although then her nurse training might kick in—if he dropped from a heart attack, would she maybe feel obligated to do CPR?

Hell. Screw it. She didn’t care if it did. Not after what he’d put her through, her sister through. Not after what he’d cost Sam.

Quinn
. . .

Good advice. But man, she sucked at listening to her own advice.

“Damn it, you little cunt, I’m talking to you.”

Memory flashed.
“Little cunt, one of these days, I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

She narrowed her eyes. Shifting her stance, she hooked her thumbs in her pockets and spread her legs, glaring at James. “You called me that once—you remember what I told you I’d do if you did it again?”

He sneered at her. “Yes, I remember you threatening me. I’d thought you had at least a modicum of intelligence up until that day. It’s never a wise idea to threaten people when you can’t possibly hope to win.”

“Oh, I’ve got more than hope.”
Hope. Bravado. A whole lot of anger.

All she had to do was break a promise.

Some promises had to be broken, and sometimes, some promises should never be made. She’d made a few bad ones, and now she was going to remedy that.

“Why
not
?”
Damn it, how did we get here
? Sarah’s husband beating on her, the two twins hiding in a motel room while Sam put rusty nursing skills to work and cleaned up Sarah’s busted face.

Sam blinked and then squinted. Rolling off the bed, she stormed around it and glared down at her sister. “You actually
believe
him?”

“You can’t stay with him because you think he
might
hurt me,” Sam snarled.

“I can’t leave him because I
know
he’ll do what he says. If I leave, you’re not safe.”

“And if you don’t leave,
you’re
not safe.” Sam shoved a hand through her hair and stomped over to the window. Damn it, Sarah was supposed to be the smarter twin, grounded and logical. “You can’t worry about me, Sarah. I’m not afraid of that bastard.”

Then, three weeks later, their unexpected white knight showed up. Sam had been pounding her head trying to figure out a way to get Sarah to leave him. She’d even played with the idea of kidnapping her own sister.

Then fate had dropped Don into their laps. She’d known Don—for quite a while actually—but that was a fact they’d kept closely hidden from James. Don had his faults . . . a number of them, but deep inside, he was a good man and there was no way he’d kill somebody.

But he’d made them realize they had to do something. Going to the police hadn’t seemed the wisest option, because James had people there, people who’d make anything they said against him go away—unless there was proof. Serious, solid proof. Something that took time . . . time they couldn’t spare . . .
then
.

Don had been sabotaging his own efforts to “find” Sarah. He’d also been working another end, not that he’d tell her much. He’d only shared a few sketchy details, but it was possible that maybe, just maybe, karma was about to catch up with James—big time.

Maybe that was what had given Don the courage to hang around.

“You might be right about my intelligence,” Sam said, forcing her attention back to James, away from the memories. “If I was a smart chick, I never would have let my sister marry you, you fucking weasel.”

James’s eyes narrowed. It didn’t seem possible, but his face was even redder.

This wasn’t as excellent as she’d hoped for—it was better. A whole hell of a lot better, almost orgasmic. Her heart was pounding, pounding so hard, she almost didn’t feel the pain still tearing through her over Quinn.

“Where is my
wife
?”

Sam shrugged and waved a hand. “I dunno . . . out and about.” Then a sly smile curled her lips and she added, “But I really don’t think you want to put much more effort into finding her.”

“If I didn’t want her found, do you honestly think I’d waste precious time and money doing so?” James demanded.

“Money can’t be that precious to you—you’ve got buckets full.” She shrugged and cocked her hip, resting a hand on it. “You haven’t been able to find her for two years, though. What makes you think you’ll be able to find her after all this time?”

“Hardly any of
your
business,” he replied, his voice icy.

“Sarah’s my sister—anything that affects her is my business.”

“She’s
my
wife,” James bellowed. Then he stopped, closed his eyes.

She could almost see him counting to ten. When he looked at her, he’d managed to conceal some of the rage.

“I want to know about my wife, Samantha. Right now. I want to know where she is.” A muscle twitched up by his temple and he was so mad, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see him spitting nails. But his voice was almost normal.

“Oh, I bet you do,” she drawled, giving him a cheeky grin. “But you’re not going to find her by asking me . . . and then there’s the fact that I really don’t
want
you finding her.”

“You think I give a damn what
you
want, you little bitch?”

“You should.” She reached into her tote, careful not to disturb the contents as she withdrew an envelope and tossed it to him. “Those are copies. You can keep them.”

He didn’t go red this time. He went purple. He looked at each picture and then tore it down the middle, letting the pieces fall to his desk.

It was Sarah, more than a dozen pictures, and they all showed different injuries.

“You’re going to leave my sister alone. Otherwise, those pictures are going to wind up in the society pages. Can’t you just see the headlines?
Behind closed doors, philanthropist and CEO beats his wife.
It will go over really well with some of those who sit on all those charity boards with you, won’t it?”

“You actually think you can ruin me?” He stared at her coldly as he let the last picture fall from his fingers.

“Ruin you? No. Ruin your public image? I can certainly take some of your polish off . . . and we both know it.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and said, “Now those pictures can disappear. I don’t give a damn if they do or not, as long as you leave my sister alone.”

He stared at her, a calculating look in his eyes. Then he glanced past her shoulder. She didn’t bother turning her head. She knew who he was looking at. Don. The man he’d paid to kill her.

She smiled at him and whispered, “You’re not going to touch Don about this. You’re going to leave him alone.”

A cruel smile curled his lips.

Sam returned it. “Those pictures there? If anything happens to me
or
Don, those pictures are going to wind up in the hands of every reporter in the Chicago area. You’ll be investigated, Jimmy. And you and I both know that if you get investigated too heavily, the cops will find things you don’t want them knowing.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his lashes flickering, shielding that flash of rage in his eyes.

But Sam knew him. “You can’t win this, Jimmy. You touch me, you touch Don, those pictures go public. And if you don’t leave my sister alone . . . those pictures won’t just go to every reporter in the Chicago area, I’ll send them to every fucking reporter I can find.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw.

“I hardly plan on remaining married to a woman who’s abandoned me,” James said.

“No. I bet that would really interfere with your current plans.” Sam smiled. “The governor isn’t going to be too pleased if you start pursuing his daughter while you’re still married, now will he?”

“What does the governor have to do with this?”

Sam laughed. “Jimmy, don’t play dumb. I know about you and Alison Mather. She’s accompanied you twice to California and you’ve been seen together at any number of charity functions. Now I could see the occasional chance encounter, but the business trips? If it’s not for personal interests, then why? She’s hardly business-meeting material, now is she?”

James waved it aside, but she saw the glint in his eye.

“So . . . do we have a deal? Leave Sarah alone . . . and I’ll leave you alone. You can file for a divorce on the grounds of abandonment. Yeah, it might sting your pride, but you can do it.”

Before he could reply, the phone on his desk beeped.

He ignored it, staring at Sam, undisguised hatred on his face.

“Things would progress more quickly if Sarah came home and dealt with this. I could make sure she received a tidy sum of money and—”

“And the minute you had the chance, you’d teach her a lesson for humiliating you.” Sam shook her head. “Sarah isn’t coming home. You either file for divorce and agree to leave her be, or the next set of pictures will go to the newspaper. Hell, I think I’ll even send them to Alison’s daddy.”

The phone beeped again.

Giving him a chilly smile, she said, “Do you really think he’s going to be interested in letting his daughter marry a man suspected of beating his wife?”

Another beep from the phone. He glared at Sam as he snatched it up. “I’m in the middle of something.” He slammed down the phone.

“You have no proof of anything . . . those pictures? Fake. Anybody with a computer can doctor a picture these days. You know what
I
think? Your sister is missing because
you
killed her. In a jealous rage—she was always prettier, more popular . . . and she landed a rich husband while you toiled away in some filthy shelter. You killed her, out of jealousy, and now you think you can come in and blackmail me,” James said. He smoothed down his tie, taking an inordinate amount of time to do so. “You can spin whatever stories you wish. Nobody is going to believe anything you say.”