Speak of the Devil

CHAPTER 7

I didn’t get home until a little after six, having run some errands and stopped for groceries along the way. I’d calmed down a bit by then, realizing that everything Brian had done, he’d done for my own good. That didn’t mean I would let him get away with it without a tongue-lashing, but there wouldn’t be a great deal of heat behind it.

I was lost in my thoughts when I stepped through the door into the lobby of my apartment building, and I walked to the elevators without looking around me. In fact, it wasn’t until I’d actually stepped into the elevator and turned to push the button for my floor that I realized Brian was there.

I jumped like a startled cat as he joined me in the elevator.

“Jesus, you scared me!” I said, putting my hand to my chest and feeling the frantic beat of my heart. “Why didn’t you say something?”

The doors slid closed, and the elevator started to rise. Brian didn’t look at me, instead staring at the lighted numbers above the door. Tension radiated from him in almost palpable waves, and though I was pretty sure his face was supposed to be neutrally blank, he looked like he was majorly pissed off. I put a hand on his arm, and he actually jerked out of my grip.

“Brian, what’s wrong?” I asked. I’d never seen him anything like this before.

“Wait until we get into the apartment,” he said, and it sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth.

I was mystified. It wasn’t like Brian had never been angry with me before, but I couldn’t think of a time when he’d been angry and I hadn’t known the reason why. Swallowing a lump of fear, I joined him in staring at the lighted numbers. It was one of the longest elevator rides in the history of mankind.

Eventually, the doors opened, and I made my way to my apartment, not at all sure I wanted to know what was going on. Ignorance is supposed to be bliss, but I wasn’t feeling so blissful at the moment.

I unlocked the door and stepped into my apartment, gesturing for Brian to come in. It was then that I noticed the manila envelope he held in his right hand. I gathered it was something about that envelope that had made him so mad, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what it could be. I put the bag of groceries in the kitchen, but didn’t bother to put them away. Brian hadn’t followed, so I went back to the entryway.

“Would you like me to make some coffee?” I asked, trying to sound normal.

“No.” Brian’s voice was brusque and curt. No pretense of normalcy here.

“Then should we sit down?”

“No,” he said in that same tone of voice.

I shook my head, starting to get pissed off myself.

“Enough with the caveman grunts already! Just tell me what’s the matter.”

He met my eyes, and for the first time ever, I saw genuine coldness in his gaze. It was almost enough to make me take a step backward, but then I decided it was ridiculous to be scared of Brian, no matter how upset he was.

Still giving me that marrow-freezing look, he reached into the manila envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. Without another word, he shoved it in my face.

With a sigh, I took the paper from Brian’s hand. It was a short letter, printed out on plain white copy paper. I started to read.

Mr. Tyndale, I thought you might be interested to know that your girlfriend has spent the night with Adam White on more than one occasion.

I gasped, and the paper jerked in my hand. My jaw dropped open, and I looked at Brian in horror. But the note wasn’t finished yet, and I forced myself to read the rest.

Lest you think these overnight stays were somehow innocent, I must tell you that I have attained some concrete information about what took place while she was there. I presume Ms. Kingsley has mentioned to you Mr. White’s distasteful proclivity toward sadistic sexual practices. Would you be interested to know that in Mr. White’s house there is a bullwhip that bears traces of Ms. Kingsley’s blood?

The note was signed “An Interested Observer.”

My face lost all color, and for a moment, the room seemed to swim before my eyes. My hands shook hard enough that I dropped the sheet of paper. I couldn’t have looked more guilty if I’d tried. Why, oh why, hadn’t I told Brian the truth when I’d had the chance? I wished he didn’t have to know at all, but at least if he’d gotten it from me, this damn note wouldn’t be so devastating—or hard to explain.

“It’s not what you think,” I stuttered, then wanted to slap myself upside the head for uttering the most guilty-sounding phrase in the English language.

“The hell it isn’t,” Brian growled at me. He wasn’t giving me the icy stare anymore. In fact, he couldn’t even bear to look at me. “This is why you were so touchy about Lugh, isn’t it? Because you already had a guilty conscience!”

I tried to reach out to him, but he jerked away before I made contact. “Don’t touch me!”

I took a deep, quavering breath. I had vowed to myself never to tell him what Adam had done to me, what I had let Adam do to me in exchange for his help rescuing Brian. If I didn’t have Lugh around to keep my dreams under control, I’d have had recurring nightmares about the hell I’d gone through in Adam’s black room. I’d never wanted Brian to find out, and, most of all, never wanted him to feel guilty about the sacrifice I’d made to save him.

I wasn’t even sure if it would be better for Brian to think I had cheated on him than to know the truth. But I couldn’t bear for him to think that.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself, knowing that my next words were crucial to whether our relationship could survive this blow. “What happened between me and Adam wasn’t in the least bit sexual,” I said carefully.

Brian laughed bitterly, and he allowed himself to look at me once more. I almost wished he hadn’t, because the combination of pain and fury in his eyes was more than I could bear.

“Don’t bother lying to me,” he said. “Your face is an open book, remember?”

“Yes, and I’m telling you the truth. Adam did whip me, but it wasn’t sexual. It was about as far from sexual as it’s possible to get.” For me, at least. I still remembered how the thought of what he was about to do to me had aroused Adam, though he’d told me the arousal didn’t mean he wanted to have sex with me, and I’d believed him.

“Save it!”

“But Brian—”

“If you’d told me the truth about it from the beginning, I might have been able to find a way to forgive you. I assume it happened while we were broken up.” He shook his head. “But no, you made a point of assuring me the two of you weren’t lovers.”

“We weren’t. We aren’t.” Once again, I reached for him, and once again, he evaded me.

“It’s over, Morgan. I could put up with your bitchiness and your unwillingness to open up to me, but I can’t deal with you cheating on me.”

“I didn’t cheat on you!” I cried, knowing I sounded desperate. “Just let me—”

“Stop lying!” he bellowed, and his face turned red with his rage. This time when I reached for him, he actually shoved me away. Not hard enough to hurt me, but easily hard enough to shock me into temporary silence.

He reached into the manila envelope one more time, pulled out an eight-by-ten photo, and shoved it at me. I felt like an elephant had just sat on my chest, and it was all I could do to breathe.

The photo was of a couple locked in a passionate kiss. The man’s hands were on the woman’s ass, and her arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand buried in his black hair. Their faces were obscured because they were kissing, but the woman had my hair color and style, as well as my telltale sword tattoo on her lower back, and the man certainly had Adam’s height and build. Worse, they were standing on the doorstep of Adam’s house.

I shook my head, barely able to find enough voice to muster a weak protest. “This is a fake. I never—”

Brian didn’t even let me finish. He dropped the envelope and the photo on the floor, then turned away and stormed out my front door, slamming it behind him so hard my teeth rattled.

I fell to my knees, clutching my abdomen, unable to absorb the enormity of what had just happened. I wanted to cry, needed to cry, maybe even to scream and break things. But all I could do was kneel in my foyer, trying to remember to breathe as I stared at the faked photo that had just destroyed something precious.