A Murderous Game (11 page)

"He won't come over here. He's
too civilized." Rachael picked up the basket of rolls and held it out to
Abby. "Take one."

"If there's such a thing as
Machiavellian civility," Abby said, taking a roll. "The man is
heartless." Abby hadn't wanted to believe that last week, but now she knew
better.

Rachael lowered her lashes, but
Abby could tell her friend still had her gaze aimed at the bar. "My, my,
he sure does seem to be having a hard time keeping his eyes off of you."

Abby pulled her roll in two.
"He's probably wondering if it's safe to be in the same room with
me."

"Don't move. And don't look.
He's getting up." Rachael picked up her water and laughed rather loudly.
"And then the cameraman tripped over one of the extension cords and—"
She put her glass back down. "He's leaving."

Abby jerked around just in time to
see a tall man with dark hair duck out the door. Her heart rate plunged and for
a very long moment, felt painfully hollow.

"Are you all right, kid?"
Rachael reached across the table and took her hand.

"I'm fine." Abby closed
her eyes a moment then forced a smile. He couldn't hurt her; she wouldn't let
him. "Want to share an order of potato skins?"

Rachael picked up her menu.
"Sure, honey, if you want."

~~~

Chocolate jock straps would be a
dream account compared to the two that Harold Billings dropped onto Abby's desk
Thursday morning. She blamed her close encounter with Gage the prior evening
for another sleepless night, and it required very little to push her over the
edge of the precipice she'd been teetering on for days. Having Billings hoist all his
worst accounts off on her did the trick.

Abby leaned back in her chair and
crossed her arms. "I'm not taking these on," she said levelly.
"You've passed off six accounts to me in the last week, all undesirables.
You'll have to find someone else to dump your garbage on, Harold. I refuse to
accept any more of your crap accounts."

"With Crowley out on medical leave and Fisher's
last day next Friday, you don't have a choice," he replied blandly.
"You know I've been directed to devote myself to Faraday."

Abby bristled. "In case you
don't remember, I was in the meeting with you and Mr. Norwell when we talked
about reassigning some of your work.
Some
, Harold.
You were told to make yourself available to Gage Faraday as necessary."

"Norwell left it up to me to
decide what to farm out," he said snidely, "and I doubt he'd be
pleased to learn you don't want to be a team player."

"I've always been a team
player," she bit out, her temper brewing, "but you're taking
advantage of the situation, and I'm not playing this time."

Billings narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I think
you'll play exactly the way I say we'll play."

Abby slid the account folders back
across her desk toward him, determined to stand her ground. "Give them to
Erickson or Leary," she said, and turned to face her computer.

"Rule number one," Billings jeered. "I
don't like your superior attitude. You seem to have forgotten I'm your senior
here, so from now on you'll show me more respect."

"How can I forget when you
remind me of it almost daily? But you're not my boss Harold. If you were,
someone would have handed over an orange jumpsuit and locked me in a cell long
ago. I hate to even contemplate the possibility. Orange has never been a good color for
me."

Billings picked up the folders. "You're
going to regret this, Abigail. You haven't learned your place. If I'd been
Dick, I would have enjoyed showing you exactly where that was and teaching you
a few necessary lessons."

"Get out." Abby swiveled
to face him. "I'm sick of your threats and insinuations. I'm sick of you
using Faraday's name to leverage your authority and dump on everyone else in
the office. I'm sick of—" She drew in a breath at the realization she'd
let him goad her into lashing out again.

"Just get out." She
closed her eyes, struggling for calm.

"We'll see what Norwell has to
say about this," he said, his lip curling contemptuously.

"See what I have to say about
what?"

Abby looked beyond Billings to where Norwell
stood filling her doorway. He strode into her office and eyed them both
expectantly. Abby's mood deteriorated further.

"Mr. Norwell," Billings said, turning.
"I was just explaining to Abigail I needed her to pick up these two
accounts in order to free up more of my time for the River One account."

Norwell glanced at Abby.
"We've already discussed this. What do you need to know from me?"

"Just a clarification,
sir," Billings
replied. "Faraday is demanding I pick up the pace. He doesn't care how, he
wants it done. I tried to tell Abigail I had no choice but to clear a few more
accounts from my
portfolio
 
if
we're going to keep the man happy, which you said we needed to
do at all costs."

"What's the problem,
Carpenter?" Norwell said impatiently. "You knew Harold would be
turning some of his clients over to you."

"Yes, and I've already taken
on six of his more problematic accounts. I reported those in Tuesday's update
meeting."

"None of those are large
accounts," Billings
said, directing the comment to her. "And these two are small enough that
someone at your level should be able to manage with minimum effort."

"Which accounts are we talking
about?" Norwell asked.

"Ridgley Paper and
Torch-Lender distributors," Billings
answered, "both of which we've managed for over three years and have plans
in place."

"And both of which have
consistently suffered losses since we've represented them, losses that they
blame on our marketing strategy," Abby added.

"What are you implying?" Billings snapped.

Abby sighed. "I'm not implying
anything, Harold." She looked at Norwell. "All I'm saying, sir, is
Ridgley and Torch-Lender may be small accounts on our books, but trying to
placate them takes almost as much time as dealing with much larger accounts.
Considering the rest of my account load, I suggested these two be given to
someone else."

"Sir," Billings countered, "I've considered
everyone else. You told me to use my discretion, and I've tried to do that. I
can always try to reason with Faraday and tell him we've got other clients we
have to consider."

"No," Norwell said
violently. "That man won't tolerate excuses. If we tell him we can't do
exactly what he wants, he might yank the contract out from us the same way he
did with Fitch and Lerner."

Abby recognized a trump card when
she saw it, but she couldn't think of a way to outmaneuver Billings. They both knew Norwell wouldn't
risk losing Gage's business. The account was too big. He certainly wouldn't
care that Abby was already taking work home every night in order to stay on top
of things.

"Unfortunately, I'd have to
agree," Billings
said. "And after meeting with him a couple of times, I think I'm probably
in the best position to guess how he'd react."

Abby had experienced Gage's anger
firsthand, but a part of her refused to believe he was the unreasonable
autocrat everyone made him out to be. She knew he could be cold, and hard, and
lethal, but she'd also had glimpses of another side of him. It was that Gage,
the one who'd smiled at her with warmth and humor in his eyes that haunted her.
It was that Gage, who filled her with a sense of loss and longing. 

Billings shrugged and turned up his hands.
"I'll do whatever you think is best," he said looking at Norwell.

Abby didn't have to look at her
boss. She already knew the outcome.

Ten minutes later Billings fought desperately against the ropes
that bound his arms and legs to the four stakes positioned strategically around
a massive hill of fire ants. She usually didn't torture her victims before she
killed them, but she'd decided to make an exception this time.

~~~

Friday afternoon Gage spent two
hours on a conference call negotiating terms with the leasing company GFI
wanted to acquire. Burns had finally decided to deal. He tapped his pen against
the tablet where he'd been taking notes.

He had one more meeting, and then
he was going to try to get out of there by six. That'd be a rare event.
Tomorrow morning he'd be flying to Miami then
driving to Key West
for the weekend to spend two days of R & R at his condo on the beach.

He stretched his arms behind his
back. His neck and shoulders protested the long hours he'd spent bent over his
desk. Maybe he'd be able to catch up on some sleep this weekend. Ever since
that ridiculous scene with Abby last week he'd been so out of sorts he hadn't
been resting well.

He still couldn't believe the woman
and her husband had done a personal investigation on him. More amazing was that
they had uncovered so much about his past. It had taken some thought, but he'd
finally remembered Kelly Samuels. They'd gone out a couple of times one summer
when he'd worked at his uncle's taffy shop on the Jersey
shore. If they knew about his old car and a girl as insignificant in his life
as Kelly, they were really digging deep. Anyone who would go to such extremes
to find incriminating evidence was a lot more dangerous than he'd originally
suspected.

Well, he'd been gathering
ammunition of his own. He'd instructed Matt to do a full-scale priority
investigation on both of the Carpenters. And he'd made it clear he wanted to
know everything, down to the name of their first grade teachers. If he had to launch
a counterattack he'd be ready.

He felt a twang of regret but
quickly squashed it. She'd betrayed him, or had intended to. Of course they
wouldn't have found any evidence of fraud. That didn't mean she couldn't have
caused damage. If she'd gotten classified information on companies GFI wanted
to acquire, they could've leaked the information and driven up the price, or
shared bid information with a competitor who could then underbid them.

Leaning his head against the back
of the chair he closed his eyes. Damn if he hadn't been falling for her. He
hated to admit it, hated the fact he'd let her make a fool of him. Bitterness
made him clench his jaw. The woman was poison. Thank God he'd found out before
she'd really gotten into his system.

He pushed the chair back and stood
up. Who the hell was he kidding? Wasn't he still hoping Matt would turn
something up to vindicate her? Hadn't that been part of the reason he'd ordered
his security chief to do a full investigation after she'd almost dared him to
do it?

And what about the other night when
he'd seen her walk into that pub where he'd stopped to get dinner? Hell, he
hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her. She'd been plotting with that
bastard she married to ruin GFI, for God sake, and he couldn't get the woman
out of his head.

He glanced at the time. Matt would
be here in a few minutes. He had called Wednesday afternoon to say they'd
completed both investigations, but Gage hadn't had time to meet with him until
this afternoon.

He wanted to be done with it. When
he saw the report in black and white, he'd finally be able to let go of the
idiotic hope that just maybe, when she'd looked at him with those pleading
green eyes and said
you're so very wrong
, he had been.

~~~

Several hours later, Gage sat on the
couch in his office quietly staring out the windows, the open file with Matt's
report on the table in front of him. The same couch where Abby had fallen
asleep…what…a lifetime ago, and touched off feelings he'd rarely felt.

He rubbed a hand over the back of
his neck. If only he'd done a little more digging…or waited until Matt's team
had finished their investigation before he'd condemned her. He'd just felt so
betrayed when he'd seen that picture of her with Carpenter, the bastard's arm
draped over her shoulder as if he owned her.

Gage sighed heavily. He should have
paid more attention to the nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere.
He'd had it often enough. How could he have possibly guessed the truth, though?

His eyes drifted back to the file containing
Matt's report, and he shook his head. He never would have equated the beautiful
woman who had rendered him a jealous idiot with Abby Sheridan, the starry-eyed
kid whose father had accused him of statutory rape.

Talk about your ugly duckling turning
into a beautiful swan. Well, not that she'd been ugly, just—he couldn't
actually remember what she'd looked like back then. He only knew her that one
summer, and she'd just been a kid. She sure as hell hadn't looked anything like
she did now, though. He was pretty sure about that.

Gage smiled sadly. She used to have
a crush on him. He remembered his friends used to tease him about his little
shadow. He could recall being amused at the time, the way she followed him
around like a big-eyed puppy.

Green eyes.
Damn
! He used to call her green eyes when she came into the store. And he'd
called her the same thing the night she'd come to his office. Ironic he
remembered it now when it did him no good. Or had a part of him recognized her
after all and been trying to give him a heads-up? Too bad he hadn't been bright
enough to make the connection.

How could she believe he'd changed
his mind about working with her because he had an old grudge? Or even more
outrageous, that he thought she wanted to stalk him? Gage smirked. If only.

What he'd accused her of had been a
hell of a lot worse, and now he'd put her in a very tenuous position at work.
He knew there'd be some fallout when he called Norwell on Monday to have her
reassigned to the account.

Gage didn't really give a damn what
Norwell or Billings
thought. He did care about making things uncomfortable for Abby, though.