Angelique Rising (35 page)

             
And the next time he would do it right. The bitch had probably fabricated for herself some kind of "insurance policy", the whole story written down somewhere, ready to be delivered to Wyatt in the event of her death or disappearance. Ridiculous. Did she not think he would get that from her straightaway, immediately? He had been too nice to her, he knew that now, he should have just done what he should have done, to hell with his niceties. She obviously now thought she could take him on, or at least keep herself from him. After what she'd done to him? She thought she could just go back to her own little life untouched? The insolent fool.

             
And there he was!
Wyatt.
Going through the metal detectors. Smiling. But Angelique was not with him. Damn! Malcolm stood. He did not call out to Wyatt but waited, waited to see what Wyatt would do. What Wyatt did was what any party guest would do. He greeted. He hugged. He chatted and conversed. And when Malcolm finally moved to receive him Wyatt forced himself to remember his promise and didn't reach out his hands and wrap them around Malcolm's neck, all the security guards in the room (and he'd spotted quite a few) unable to pry him off until he felt the
snap
under his fingers.

             
"Wyatt," Malcolm sang out to him.

             
"Uncle Malcolm," Wyatt responded genially, reaching out his hand without reservation.

             
"Good to see you my boy. Where's Angelique?"

             
"Oh she wanted to come, Uncle Malcolm, but... you know women." He lowered his voice. "Female trouble."

             
"Ah," he said, his voice solicitously silken, "hopefully next time." Malcolm didn't know what to make of it. It was understandable that Angelique would manufacture an excuse not to return to his house, face his wrath, but it was equally plausible that if Wyatt knew what had happened there was no way he'd let her attend.

             
In truth, Angelique and Wyatt had had a rip roaring fight over whether she would go to Malcolm's party. Angelique very much wanted to attend, wanted to play her part in the charade, but Malcolm was right.
No way
had been Wyatt's answer. It was all so infuriating for Wyatt, it was only his overriding love for her that restrained him. Every time she went out, even though he knew she cut back on her activities quite a bit to make it easier on him, he was jumpy and anxious until she returned. Johnson was in charge of the security for her, but it was shadowy security, security that could not be spotted even by professionals looking for it and that meant it was not as reliable as what Wyatt wanted. An outing for Angelique took two weeks to prepare, to rehearse, timed, have the proper people in place, all to achieve one thing: the look of normality. But coming back to this house? To Malcolm? No, at that he'd put his foot down.
No, Ange. No.

             
"So have they caught the guy yet?" Wyatt asked Malcolm.

             
"No, not yet. But I'm hoping."

             
"Maureen will be disappointed," he laughed, "I hear she's become quite the toast of the town running your Center for you --holding Court every night in your Club."

             
"Yes, she certainly has
taken
to it. And I hear Angelique is recording some music at the Center."

             
"Oh yes, when you go back you should stop in and see her, she's quite good."

             
"Maybe I'll do that."

             
"I'm sure she'd appreciate your attention."

             
"Yes," Malcolm said, deliberately adding a baiting snicker. "And she certainly deserves it."

             
It was all Wyatt could do not to kill him on the spot but he didn't. And it worked. The next day Malcolm placidly cancelled all his security and resumed his life undisturbed, the absurdity of his folly remarkable.

             
By that time Johnson and Wyatt had everything in place and it was now the three of
them
waiting for opportunity. Actually, what they were waiting for was winter. Specifically, ice. Because Angelique Reising had heard all about how it was possible for a car to lose control on ice and careen off a bridge into a river taking its occupants with it.

             
And Angelique was rather fond of rivers, especially hers. It seemed a fitting way for Malcolm and Donald to go.

             
"I have never loved any thing or any one the way I love her, Johnson," Wyatt said the next day in his office upon hearing of Malcolm's new found self-assurance. "When I think of what he had planned... Killing him a thousand times would not be enough. And that Donald, his hands on her..."

             
"I know."

             
"You are absolutely sure your contacts are trustworthy in this?" Wyatt asked sitting down behind his desk.

             
"Very. For the money involved. It's their lifeline. One of the drug lords has been moving in on their land, pushing them out. They've been fighting a war against him for years, steadily losing because they don't have the funds he has --the drug money. Five million dollars a year will protect their land, keep them safe, the drug lord and others at bay. How long do you think the money will hold out?"

             
"At least twenty years. Then I'll kick in. You've checked the refurbished facility carefully? Did they follow my design exactly?"

             
"Oh yes. It's correct though I still don't know why you made it that way."

             
"It was a special request I granted. And the sons?"

             
"Totally on board. They know one day it may be their responsibility."

             
"Then it's all a go. When's your target date?"

             
"First ice storm we have, sir. Certainly in less than a month."

             
"Good. I'd like to get this over with. He won't get his hands on Angelique, but he's back at his Performance Center--"

             
"We have that covered, sir, you know that. He won't be taking anyone from there. We'd move in immediately if he did. And truthfully I doubt he would be interested in doing that."

             
"Why do you say that? A leopard doesn't change its spots."

             
"This leopard will probably be fixated. On one target. And one target only."

             
"Angelique."

             
"Yes. I'm sure he is preparing plans. I suspect, however, that his plans now would be to spirit her off to some foreign location and hold her. Safer that way." Both men broke into hearty guffaws.

             
"And that takes time and money to arrange, therefore no move on Angelique. Still, I worry."

             
"Our surveillance and safety measures are in place, sir, he could not take her. We'd stop him if he even approached her. And you may be forgetting the most important thing of all. Mrs. Cochran
knows.
That's why he was always successful in taking his victims, none of them were expecting attack. But your wife
knows
what Malcolm Cochran wants and what he's willing to do to get it --that pushes any plan for acquiring her into a totally different realm, a different level, one he has no experience with I'm guessing. His modis operandi was stealth and trickery. He knows that won't work on Mrs. Cochran. She's forewarned about such things. For all he knows she's walking around now packing a .38. He'll have to put a lot of time and thought into any plan to seize her. And he doesn't have the financial resources necessary to hire the appropriate people for that, or to house her out of the country securely."

             
"No, not yet anyway, but by next summer I would not trust it, especially him at the Performance Center when Angelique is there."

             
"There will be no next summer at the Performance Center for your uncle or his assistant. Now about the flight--"

             
"I will arrange it so you can make my leased jet suitable."

             
"Very good, sir. Well, now it's just a waiting game."

             
Both men turned and looked out the window.
Freezing rain
on the weather report was all they needed to hear. And that report came ten days later.

             
"It's done," Wyatt told Angelique. She brightened and sucked in her breath.

             
"What time will they be here?"

             
"Seven o'clock, I told him dinner at eight."

             
"Poor Tinka."

             
"Necessary. In fact... since he's been back, I don't know, it's different. Sometimes the way he looks at Tinka --I just don't trust him with her like I used to. She'd be an easy target for him, the
only
easy target. If he's getting desperate, impelled--"

             
"She told me this morning he wants her to paint the third floor 'guest bedroom' whatever her favorite color is."

             
"Damn.
Have you got everything prepared?"

             
"Yes, Wyatt. We'll take care of Malcolm in here," she waved her hand around the living room, "and Johnson will take care of Donald in the kitchen."

             
"I'll
serve the drinks in here."

             
"I'd best go get ready. Honestly, I didn't think he'd have the nerve to come here, to accept your dinner invitation, to face me."

             
"Angelique, he was downright eager. Why do you think he's willing to go out in this storm? To see
you."

             
"And see me he shall, " she smiled conspiratorially.

             
Malcolm Cochran and his daughter, Tinka, arrived for dinner precisely at seven o'clock, driven by Donald through the rainstorm, predicted by all as becoming a
freezing
rainstorm.

             
"Welcome, Uncle Mal, glad you made it. It's a filthy night. And Tinka, hello. You all right? You look a little pale," Wyatt said to them at the door, leading them into the living room.

             
"Oh no, Wyatt, I'm fine," Tinka chirped, "there you are Angelique, how
are
you? I swear I never get to actually
see
you anymore!"

             
Angelique was seated by the fireplace. She knew she needed to answer Tinka but it was hard to keep her eyes from flitting past Tinka to
him.
Malcolm was standing behind Tinka looking coolly confident as his eyes burned into her. She could see how sure, how very sure he was, that she would never have the courage to do anything to him.

             
You will soon learn that 'never' is a woefully short period of time.

             
"I'm so glad you came, Tinka."

             
Angelique turned to Malcolm trying to get the diffidence so clearly laced with contemptuous hostility out of her voice. She had to do better. "And you, Malcolm."
Oh yes Malcolm, especially you.

             
"How nice to see you after
such
a long time," Malcolm said in an effete tone, "I've been meaning to ask you --how is that friend of yours doing, what was her name? The one we sent off to
Paris."

             
A bitter joke that...
wasn't
--the moment that Angelique almost lost it, but though her forehead did break out in a slight sheen, she recouped. Malcolm inwardly chortled at his brutal erudition.

             
"I don't see too much of Lexa anymore, Malcolm. Won't you both sit down?" At his mention of Lexa she'd wanted to
hatchet
him.

             
"What are you drinking, Uncle Mal?" Wyatt said moving behind the bar. "Tinka?"

             
"Oh give me something
exciting,"
Tinka laughed. "Surprise me!"

             
Angelique and Wyatt had to both squelch cheesy smiles. Yes, Tinka, it was certainly going to be a surprise.

             
Ten minutes later Tinka was turning green, excusing herself. "I'm sorry," she rose unsteadily, "I went to a new pizza place today, I shouldn't have had the--" with a gesture of despair she bolted.

             
"Oh dear," Angelique said, "perhaps I should--"