You Belong To Me (17 page)

Read You Belong To Me Online

Authors: Patricia Sargeant

BOOK: You Belong To Me
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Nicole stepped out of the shower muttering to herself about agents and ex-husbands.
The steam followed her out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom. A shower often helped to clear her mind and give her ideas for the next scene or the next chapter, but it wasn't working tonight. As she slipped into her nightgown, she decided to shut down her computer and go to bed early with a book.
Nicole padded back down the hall, this time branching off to her dining area where she'd set up her laptop. After shutting off her computer, she turned to go back to her bedroom. A piece of paper near her front door snagged her peripheral vision. She crossed her living room, wondering who would have slipped a note under her door.
As she read the note, fear turned her blood to ice.
Time is not a luxury for you. It is not on your side. I'm watching you and waiting.
 
Working late again, Malcolm stared at the flashing cursor on his computer screen, reviewing the e-mail he was about to send to the completion guarantor. The message was firm and positive without being effusive. He wanted to minimize his usual marketing voice and mimic Tyrone's standard business tone. His dry business tone. Malcolm smiled to himself, remembering the way he'd teased his partner about his business memos.
“My tone is not dry,” Tyrone would protest. “It's direct, to the point.”
“It's dry, Ty,” Malcolm would tell him. “It's as dry as the desert heat.”
And that was fine, Malcolm thought. Besides, Tyrone's business memos always achieved the results they needed. Conversely, when Tyrone wrote a screenplay, his dialogue brought the characters to life and allowed the readers to feel all the characters' emotions.
“You had a lot of talent, buddy,” Malcolm murmured.
“So do you.”
Tyrone's voice whispered through Malcolm's mind, recalling past conversations he'd had with his partner.
“We were a great team. I wouldn't have been able to build this company on my own,”
Malcolm thought.
“I don't know about that,”
Tyrone's response replayed in Malcolm's memory.
“You have a lot of talent and a lot of guts. You're going to need guts to finish this project.”
“I know,”
Malcolm thought. “InterDimensions
is turning out to be our riskiest venture ever.”
Tyrone agreed.
“Riskier than you know. But you can't give up. I need you to make this work.”
“I'll try.”
Malcolm sighed.
“There is no ‘try.' There is only ‘do' or ‘do not.'”
Tyrone quoted a line from one of the
Star Wars
movies, making Malcolm smile. The phone rang, interrupting their conversation.
“Hello,” Malcolm answered, reluctant to let go of his memories of Tyrone.
“Mal, it's Joyce.” The strain in her voice forced Malcolm to focus his attention on the call. He checked his watch. It was a little after 10:00
P.M.
“What's wrong?” he asked. Joyce burst into tears. “Joyce, what is it?” Malcolm's grip tightened on the receiver, and his heart thundered with dread.
“Mal.” Joyce gasped to a stop. “Mal, Ty's father just called me. He said ... he said ... The police just called him and told him ...”
“Joyce, what is it?” Malcolm repeated, anxiety sharpening his tone.
“The police said Ty's accident wasn't an accident.”
“What?” Malcolm grew cold from the inside out. His hand began to shake. As if from a distance, he heard Joyce sobbing on the other end of the phone. Her breathing was ragged.
“They said it looks like another car forced him off the road. Oh, Mal,” Joyce sobbed. “Someone killed my Tyrone.”
C
HAPTER
T
EN
A piercing shriek bounced off her bedroom walls and jerked Nicole from a dead sleep. She snapped on the bedside light and huddled against the headboard, her heart lodged in her throat. Half-blind from the remnants of sleep, she moved on instinct. Her gaze darted to every dark corner of her bedroom. Alone. She was alone. Then what was that noise?
The shriek sped through her apartment again, and, with a mixture of chagrin and irritation, she identified the sound as her security buzzer. She'd never realized what an ugly, threatening sound it was until she heard it in the middle of the night.
She started to throw off her comforter, then paused to check the time. The radio alarm clock on her bedside table read minutes after one in the morning. Who would be visiting her now? The fear returned.
I'm watching you and waiting.
The security buzzer shrieked again. Nicole sat fossilized with fear. Would a stalker who slipped notes under her door ring the security buzzer?
She shook herself impatiently.
This is ridiculous. I'm not going to allow myself to be a prisoner in my own apartment.
Drawing strength from manufactured anger, Nicole threw off the comforter and marched down the hall. She hesitated as she passed the phone. She considered dialing 911 but regrouped and continued to the door. She wasn't certain this was an emergency, and she didn't want to risk calling the police on a false alarm.
She snatched the security phone off its cradle and tried for a firm, tough tone. She grimaced when her, “Who is it?” wavered and croaked in her fresh-from-sleep voice.
“It's Mal. Can I come up?” His deep-sea baritone washed over her, turning her fear and anger into concern.
“Sure.” She pressed the button that released the security lock.
Nicole unchained and unlocked her door. She leaned across the doorframe and waited a long time before she saw Malcolm climbing the stairwell. Her concern deepened when she observed his rounded shoulders and dragging gait.
As he climbed the final staircase to her floor, he lifted his head and caught her gaze. The pain in his eyes ripped a hole in her heart. If possible, his expression was even more wrenching than it had been in the hospital after he'd learned Tyrone had died. She wanted to wrap her arms around him but remembered he didn't respond well to comforting gestures. She stepped back so Malcolm could enter her apartment. Without breaking eye contact, Nicole locked her door. She held out her hand for his coat, then tossed it on the love seat.
“What's happened, Mal?” she asked.
Malcolm closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. He had to pull himself together. He was here because Nicole had a right to know what was happening. Celestial Productions was working with her on the
InterDimensions
project. She had a right to be informed of events that impacted the company. Granted, it was one o'clock in the morning. But he didn't think this could wait. He wanted her to hear the news from him and not from the media.
The media.
Malcolm sighed. He couldn't stand to think what they might do with this news.
“Maybe you should sit down.” His tone was raw. He cleared his throat and tried again. “There's something I need to tell you.”
Nicole hesitated, searching his face. His gaze wavered beneath the concern he saw in her ebony eyes. He wouldn't be able to keep it together if she kept looking at him like that. Malcolm jumped when he felt Nicole take his hand and lead him to her sofa. He stumbled a bit and was embarrassed when she shot him a look of surprise. She pulled him down to sit beside her. They turned toward each other, their knees almost touching, and she appeared to brace herself for whatever he might say.
Malcolm cleared his throat again and began. “Joyce called me tonight. She was very upset by some disturbing news she'd received from Ty's family.”
He paused. He couldn't sit still to tell her this. The pain was compressing his chest. He stood and began to pace. In a controlled voice, he continued. “The police think Ty may have been murdered.”
Malcolm turned as he heard Nicole gasp. Her hand covered her mouth, and her eyes stretched wide. She looked as frozen as he had felt before the shock had worn off and left him with this incredible pain. He wished the shock had lasted just a little longer. Long enough for him to talk with Nicole. He didn't want to feel right now; he didn't want to appear weak in front of her.
“Oh, God, Mal. I can't believe ... Oh, my God.” Her catlike eyes filled with tears.
Malcolm turned away before he got caught in an emotional chain reaction. He took deep breaths and prayed for the strength to get through this conversation.
“I'm so sorry,” Nicole said.
“Yeah.” Malcolm gritted his teeth against the emotions battering his heart.
“Don't do this, Mal.” Nicole's voice was a soft plea behind him.
“Do what?” His tone was sharper than he'd intended.
“Don't push away and pretend you're not feeling. You always do that. But Ty was a warm and generous person. He deserves more than stoicism. Your friendship with him was too valuable for you to pretend you're not hurting now.”
“What do you want me to do? Bawl like a baby?” Malcolm's eyes began to burn. He kept his rigid back to her even as he heard her rise from the sofa and walk toward him.
“Yes, if that's what you're feeling.”
“And what good will that do? It won't bring Ty back.” His voice rose as he began to lose control. My God, she was unmanning him. Again. “This isn't what I came here for.” He scrubbed his hand across his eyes. Then, his face averted, he maneuvered around her and headed for the door. “I came to tell you about Ty, not to be psychoanalyzed. I didn't intend for you to try to convince me to get in touch with my feminine side.”
“Feelings don't make you less of a man, Mal.” Her gentle response reached the part of him that wanted her to keep him from spinning out of control.
“What do you want me to do, Nicky?” He stopped, still keeping his back to her. “Curl up in the fetal position and cry my heart out? Will that make you feel better?”
“Only if it will make you feel better. I can tell you're hurting. I can see it in your body language. I can hear it in your voice. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
She was pleading with him to acknowledge emotions he didn't want to have. He was afraid of the feelings beneath his anger.
“Why won't you leave it alone?” He spun toward her. “Why won't you let me deal with it my way?”
Malcolm watched as Nicole approached him, undaunted by his anger. She reached up to cup his cheek. “Because your way is tearing you apart,” she whispered.
“Do you think I care? Do you think I care if I die from this pain? He was my brother.” Malcolm couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He turned away from her again.
Nicole was making him crazy. He had come to update her on the situation, and she was turning him into a daytime soap opera. He covered his face with his hands, squeezed his eyes shut, and struggled to regain control.
“I see him.” His words emerged unbidden, muffled by his hands. “In my mind. Driving that road. Planning his day. Out of nowhere, a car slams into him. Tries to shove him off the road. His eyes widen behind his glasses. He never would wear contacts. He tries to control his car. He's scared. I can see him. Feel his confusion, his fear. But I wonder, when he realized he was going to die, what were his last thoughts?”
Malcolm lowered his hands and stared at the dampness on his palms. He felt the dreaded tears flowing down his cheeks. His body shook. He was falling apart. Nicole's arms wrapped around his waist from behind. She placed a soft kiss on his spine. Through his sweater, he felt the gentle weight of her head come to rest between his shoulder blades.
Her hands splayed over his chest. He covered her hands and pressed them tighter against him, hoping their combined contact would heal his heart. Her breasts trembled against his back with her silent sobs. He wrapped his other hand around her forearm and held on tight as the storm tore him apart and her caring put him back together.
 
He watched Nicole through the tinted windshield of the black SUV as she jogged toward him. He'd waited for her all morning. She was later than usual.
The author of the
InterDimensions
series was a beautiful woman with a long, athletic figure. Her stride was strong and sure, carrying her effortlessly down the city block. Her thick, dark ponytail danced behind her. She glanced toward the SUV as she usually did. A short, dismissive glance from sultry, catlike eyes.
The bitch.
He'd been so wrong about her. He had thought she'd cared about the family she'd created and the home she'd provided for them. But all she cared about was what they could do for her. She had lied when she'd said they mattered to her because she'd sold her rights to them. She'd given control over their well-being to a stranger. Now it was up to him to protect the people she'd invited him to share with her. He was up to the challenge. He was capable of protecting himself and those he cared about.
Nicole drew closer, her attention no longer drawn to the SUV. He watched her, the anger growing. She'd betrayed her family—their family. She would pay. He would make sure of it.
 
Malcolm stretched as far as he could in his makeshift bed on Nicole's sofa. They'd fallen asleep, spooned together on the cushions. He vaguely remembered Nicole leaving earlier for her morning run. He'd been half-awake, listening to her getting dressed. Probably thinking he was still fast asleep, she'd kissed his bare back, just below his shoulder blade, before she'd left. Just as she had when they had been married. He smiled at the too-distant memories. He looked around her living room, noting the sun was much brighter now. She was probably on her way back. He'd better get dressed.
Malcolm tossed off the blanket and stood stretching his arms above his head. He'd better borrow Nicole's iron, he decided, glancing down at his wrinkled pants. He scratched his bare chest and padded barefoot into the bathroom. He wasn't certain how he'd face her after his emotional display last night. Part of him was angry and embarrassed. But another part had to admit she had been right. He did feel much better after talking to her and releasing some of his emotions.
When Nicole returned from her run, he was standing in her bedroom pulling on his newly ironed pants. He looked up as she halted in the threshold of her bedroom door, staring at his half-naked body.
“Oh. Sorry.” She started to back away.
“Come in,” he said. “It's your room.”
She moved farther into the room. “How are you feeling this morning?”
He avoided her searching gaze. “Fine. And you?”
“Okay.” She shrugged.
Malcolm zipped his pants, then recaptured her gaze. “How was your run?”
“Good, thanks. Natural endorphins help lift the spirits, I suppose.” Her smile appeared forced. “If you give me twenty minutes to shower and change, I'll cook breakfast for you.”
“How about if I give you twenty minutes to shower and change while I cook breakfast for you?”
Nicole's smile eased as she moved toward the bathroom. “Deal.”
While Nicole showered, Malcolm used his cell phone to check his voice mail and to leave a message for Rita that he wouldn't be in until later in the morning. He'd have to tell Rita about Tyrone, but he didn't want to think about that right now.
Malcolm waited until he heard Nicole complete her shower before he started breakfast. French toast, he decided after surveying the contents of her refrigerator and cupboards. He was setting the table when he brushed against her computer desk, knocking some of the papers to the floor. He picked up the fallen papers and started to put them back on her desk when a note captured his attention.
“Something smells good,” Nicole announced as she strode into the dining area. Confronted by Malcolm's hard gaze, her smile retreated.
“When did you get this?” He shook the sheet of paper in his hand.
Nicole glanced at it, recognizing the note that had disturbed her sleep last night.
“Yesterday,” she answered reluctantly.
Malcolm's expression went from anger to incredulity. “When were you going to tell me about it?”
Nicole sighed. “Today.”
“Why didn't you tell me yesterday?”
Nicole moved farther into the room. “Mal, I got that note late last night. I left a message for the police officer I've been talking to; then I went to bed. I promise I was going to tell you today.”
“You got this message before you went to bed?” he asked. Nicole nodded. Malcolm groaned. “Then I came over and told you about Ty.”

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