Capital Wives (25 page)

“How do you know all this?”

“I have my sources, Spencer. I know someone who's going to try and kill the story. Even if
he
does, you're still not off the hook, because I know too much about you.”

Spencer's face flushed a deep red. “What are you going to do? Blackmail your husband?”

“Yes. I want you to write me a check for one point two mil for a property I want to buy in Reston. There's an eighteen
room abandoned farmhouse set on four acres of land I want to renovate and turn into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“How long have you planned this?”

“Not as long as you've been whoring, Spencer.”

“You're leaving me.” His question was a statement.

“I'm starting up a new business, and because I'm hands-on I'll have to relocate from Alexandria to Reston. Whatever you decide to do is your business.”

Resting his hand on Deanna's, Spencer moved it and picked up the gun. “Would you really have shot me?”

She gave him a direct stare. “I'd thought about it, then decided you're not worth me going to jail for. Fucking a man in
our
bed would be the ultimate payback.”

“You do that and I
will
kill him.”

Deanna shook her head. “No, you won't, Spencer, because then all your sordid affairs would be aired for all of D.C. to see. For you it's always been about image, ego and your ten-inch dick.” Sliding off the bed, she walked out the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Now we're even,” Deanna whispered as she took the staircase to her third-floor office. She'd cheated once, while Spencer was a serial cheater. He'd claimed he'd stopped, but only time would tell if he could.

But for her it was time she turned a page in her life. She would buy the house and land in Reston, turn it into a B and B and hopefully raise her child in an environment away from the drama of the D.C. political scene.

“M
r. Tyson, I know you didn't want to be disturbed, but there's a Damon Paxton on the line for you.”

Spencer's head popped up. He stared at the young woman who substituted for his executive assistant whenever she was out of the office. “Please patch him through.” She closed the door and seconds later his phone rang. He picked up the receiver. “Paxton.”

“Tyson. This will be the last time we'll discuss this. Make certain you watch the local news tonight.”

“Why…” A click indicated Damon had hung up. The lobbyist's reference to
this
had to have been Jenah Morris. After Deanna's disclosure, Spencer had gotten his affairs in order. He'd given her the money she'd requested to buy the property in Reston and he'd drawn up his letter of resignation; he'd updated his will, leaving Deanna Tyson everything. If he was going to be named in a conspiracy, then he didn't want Jenah Morris to get one penny from him. He'd rather serve time than give her anything.

 

Deanna dropped the wand into the bathroom wastebasket, then washed her hands. What she'd suspected was confirmed. She was pregnant!

The joy she should've felt was missing. She still hadn't been able to process the reality of Spencer's cheating. If it had been one woman she knew she would've been more forgiving. But five or six! It would take her a long time, if ever, to recover from his duplicity, and Deanna knew she had to tell Spencer that he was going to become a father.

She walked into the kitchen to find him sitting on a stool at the cooking island, watching the local news. Their relationship was strained, both sharing a bed but sleeping with backs to each other.

She stopped when breaking news flashed across the screen. A woman, surrounded by police and agents with badges hanging from chains around their necks, was led out of an apartment building. The young woman had been under surveillance for trafficking in cocaine and counterfeit designer handbags. The reporter stated that more than half a kilo of cocaine, over a hundred thousand in cash and counterfeit bags worth half a million on the street were found in a closet in the D.C. apartment of an aide to Congresswoman Earline Canton.

“Oh, shit!” Spencer gasped.

Walking slowly into the kitchen, Deanna stared at Spencer. His hands were shaking. “She's the one, isn't she?”

Spencer jumped up as if someone had shocked him with an electrical rod. He met Deanna's eyes. He'd promised himself he was done with cheating, and he'd also promised himself he would never lie to Deanna again.

“Yes, she is.”

“Did you know she was dealing drugs?”

He shook his head. “I never had a clue.”

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Deanna rested a hip against the countertop. “You dodged a bullet, Spencer.”

For the first time in his life Spencer Tyson was humbled as his eyes filled with tears. He'd been prepared to give up everything he'd worked to achieve when the news about his affair with Jenah Morris was made public. Deanna was right. He had dodged a bullet. He'd been given a second chance to become the husband she deserved.

Spencer knew Damon Paxton had something to do with Jenah Morris's fall from grace, and that meant he owed the man. “Yes, I did. I thought about you running a B and B and realized it would be nice to live in the country.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was thinking of putting this house on the market, handing in my resignation and becoming a country lawyer.”

Deanna's eyebrows lifted. “Is that really what you want?”

He smiled. “I want whatever it is you want. I know you never really liked this house, but you compromised. Now it's time I do some compromising. Whatever you want, wherever you want to go, I'll be there for you.”

“It's not so much about me anymore, Spencer.”

“If not you, then who?”

“I'm pregnant.”

Spencer felt his knees buckle, and held on to the edge of the countertop to maintain his balance. “Are you sure?”

Deanna nodded. “I just took the test.”

Walking on shaking knees, Spencer folded Deanna to his chest. “I love you so much.”

Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, she pressed her face to the column of his neck. “You're lucky I love you, too, because you're going to get another chance with me, Spencer Tyson.”

Bending slightly, Spencer picked her and swung her around. Throwing back his head, he bellowed as if he'd lost his mind. “Yes!”

 

Bethany walked into Nathan Nelson's office and stopped suddenly when she saw dozens of cartons stacked along two of the four walls. There wasn't a piece of paper anywhere. “What's up, Nate?”

A clean-shaven Nathan held out his hand. He looked dapper wearing tan slacks, white shirt and navy blazer. Extensive dental work had restored his trademark smile. “Give me the netbook and flash drive and I'll tell you.”

She handed him the canvas bag. “What brought on this transformation?”

Nate beckoned Bethany. “Come in and sit with me.” He patted a corner of the desk. “I'm retiring,” he said when she sat beside him.

“You are retired.”

“I'm retiring again. This time for good.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm moving to a little bungalow on St. Thomas.” Nate smiled when he saw Bethany's stunned expression. “I don't want to give up my American citizenship.”

“Why, Nate?”

“When you asked me to kill the story on Spencer Tyson because his wife is your friend I knew it was time to stop ruining lives. I know you'd become a pariah when you married Damon, so when you told me how Deanna Tyson and Marisol McDonald saved not only you but your husband's reputation, I figured I owed you this one.”

“How are you… Do you have enough money to live on in St. Thomas?”

“Believe it or not, I came across some bonds in a pile of
papers when I was looking for something and when I took them to the bank I couldn't believe what they were worth. So, the answer is yes. I have enough money to live a comfortable but humble life in the Caribbean.”

Putting her arms around his neck, Bethany kissed his smooth check. “Don't forget to send me a card.”

He kissed her back. “I won't. Now get out of here before the moving guys come. Everything in the boxes will be shredded and the computers will be disposed of. I know its polluting, but the flash drives will end up at the bottom of the ocean.”

Bethany kissed her mentor again, then walked out of his office. Deanna had helped her and she'd gotten to return the favor. They were now BFFs.

 

Marisol made it to the bathroom in time to spill the contents of her stomach in the commode rather than on the floor. It was the second time that morning she hadn't been able to keep food down. It was Memorial Day weekend and she'd planned to spend it with her in-laws aboard the McDonald yacht.

She hadn't realized she was pregnant until the tenderness in her breasts continued beyond the end of her menses. When she'd gone to the doctor no one was more shocked than Marisol when the doctor told her she was pregnant. Her first impulse was to call Bryce, but she had decided to wait until he returned from California.

She brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth with a minty wash and returned to the bedroom to dress for the day. She'd just slipped into a pair of jeans when Bryce walked into the bedroom. “Hey,” she said, smiling. “You're back early.” Marisol hadn't expected him until the next day.

Extending his arms, Bryce approached. “Hey yourself.”
Ducking his head, he covered her mouth with his. “You taste good. I finished up early, so I decided to come back early.”

“Did you eat?”

He nodded. “I came back first-class, so I had breakfast.”

Marisol reached for the blouse she'd left on the bed. “I have some good news.”

Bryce unbuttoned his shirt while Marisol buttoned her blouse. “What is it?”

A mysterious smile softened her lips. “We're going to have a baby.”

What happened next would forever be imprinted on Marisol's memory. One moment she was standing in front of Bryce and within seconds she was on the carpet when he backhanded her across the face. His normally pleasant features were distorted, turning him into someone she didn't know or recognize.

“Whore!”

Marisol scrambled off the floor and launched herself at him, but he sidestepped her and she would've pitched forward face-first into the bedside table if she hadn't held on to the post on the canopy bed.

Eyes wide, she glared at him. “That's the first and last time you'll ever raise your hand to hit me.”

“What are you going to do, chica? Gut me?”

“No, Bryce. I'm going to do one better. I'm leaving you.”

“No, you're not.”

“Watch me.”

He grabbed her upper arm, holding her tight enough to leave a bruise. “You leave me and I will bury you. That baby in your belly can't be mine because I'm sterile. And I have a good idea whose it is. So if you don't want me to tell the world that Congressman Wesley Sheridan has been balling
my wife, then you better keep your mouth shut and play the good little wife.”

Marisol's mind was going into overdrive. She couldn't believe she'd been married to a man who'd concealed something so important as his inability to father a child. If the baby in her belly wasn't Bryce's then it had to be Wesley's.

“Okay, Bryce. You win.”

His hand tightened, impeding blood flow. “You must really like him.”

“Wrong, Bryce. I just don't want to ruin the man's political career. Now please let me go. I need to go out.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to look at some rugs for a client.”

Bryce released her arm. “After I shower I'm going to try and get some sleep. We'll go out later tonight to celebrate.”

Dream on, clown,
Marisol mused as she finished dressing. If there was going to be any celebrating she would be the one doing it.

 

Marisol walked into small private hospital, asking to see a doctor because she was pregnant and her husband had assaulted her. The bruise on her left cheek and the swelling over her left eye and her upper left arm were examined and photographed.

Her next visit was to a local precinct where she filed a report that her husband had attacked her. She told the officer that she wanted to file an order of protection because she feared for her life and that of her unborn child.

Marisol stopped to eat because with the heat she'd begun to feel faint. Then she did what she'd promised herself she wouldn't do unless it had to do with business. She called Wesley. His phone rang three times and when she was ready to hang up he answered.

“Hola.”

“I have to see you.”

“What's the matter?”

“I'll tell when I see you.”

“Come on over.”

Marisol was fortunate enough to find a parking space in front of Wesley's building. He was waiting when she got out of the car. A pair of oversize sunglasses had concealed most of the bruising on her face.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

Wesley reached for her hand. “Why the frantic call?”

“I'll tell you inside.”

Waiting until she was seated on a tall stool in Wesley's kitchen, sipping from a bottle of cold water, Marisol removed her glasses. She saw shock, fear, then rage in his eyes.

Wesley cradled her face. “What happened to you? Who did this to you?”

“My loving husband.”

The natural color drained from Wesley's face. “That sonofabitch! I'll kill him!”

Marisol shook her head. “No, you won't. I went to the police and when he's cuffed, read his rights and locked up that will hurt him a lot more than a beating from you.”

“You need to put some ice on your face.”

Unbuttoning her blouse, Marisol slipped it off. “I'm going to need more.”

Clapping a hand over his mouth, Wesley smothered a savage expletive. “Has he ever hit you before?”

“No.”

“Why now?”

“Because I told him I'm pregnant.”

“He doesn't want a baby?”

“He doesn't want another man's baby.”

Wesley blinked once. “What aren't you telling me?”

“I didn't know Bryce was sterile until this morning.”

“If it's not his baby then it has to be…mine.” Marisol nodded. “Oh, shit, oh, shit,” Wesley said over and over. He covered his mouth, then cradled the back of his head. “This is incredible. I want you to move in with me.”

“Wrong, Wes. I can't move in with you.”

“Why not?”

“What would it look like? I leave my husband to move in with the man he helped get elected. I've filed for an order of protection and soon as I have it I'm going back to the house to get my things. I'll move into a hotel until I find an apartment. Then I'm going to divorce Bryce McDonald.”

“What about the baby,
querida?
”

“Don't worry, Wes. I'm not going to keep you from seeing your son or daughter.”

“What about us?”

“Right now there is no us, Wesley. If you're willing to wait until I straighten out the mess I've made of my life I think there may be an us.”

“You have to know that I'm in love with you.”

She smiled. “No!”

“Yes,
querida.
”

“Come kiss me, then please bring me those ice packs.”

Wesley kissed Marisol with a passion that communicated he would love and protect her with his life. She'd asked him to wait and he would, all because she was more than worth the wait.