“Monica, please.”
She walked over and stood next to him. He was so close she could feel his frustration. It seemed to come off him in waves.
“Why aren’t you good enough?” she asked again.
Chet’s hands were braced against the windowsill, his knuckles white. A war was being waged within him and the battle seemed to be a fierce one. When he turned to face her, his eyes were dull with pain.
“I murdered a man,” he shouted. “There, you know, now leave.” He pointed toward the door, his face growing red and angry. “Get out of my life, understand, before I ruin yours too.”
The force of his anger rocked her, but Monica stood her ground. “I don’t know the circumstances,” she said shakily, “but if you killed him, then he must have deserved to die.”
Chet jerked back as if she’d slapped him.
“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, I’ll always love you.”
“No,” Chet cried, and then reached for her, hauling her into his arms. The strength of his embrace all but crushed her, but Monica didn’t care. There wasn’t anyplace else she would rather be than with Chet. He seemed to be drinking in her softness, as if it were as vital to him in that moment as oxygen.
After a short while, he released a harsh shudder and relaxed his hold enough for her to breathe comfortably. He brushed the hair from her temple and kissed her there. “I’ll always love you, too,” he whispered brokenly.
It felt like heaven to be in his arms. For the first time in days Monica felt whole, as if the part of her that had been missing had been found.
“You’re right when you say he deserved to die. He was a drug lord and brought misery to thousands all for the sake of money and power. An easy death was too good for him. He deserved to suffer.”
“Are you wanted by the police?”
He shook his head and laughed shortly. “No, I was too smart for that. I goaded him into a fight and I knew, being the weasel he was, he’d go for his weapon. He did, but I was ready. After an investigation, it was decided that I acted in self-defense, but I knew the truth. I murdered him just as if I’d waited in a dark alley and shot him in the back. He didn’t have a chance.”
“The gunshot wound,” she said, flattening her hand over the scar on Chet’s shoulder. She could feel it even through the material of his shirt. “That was when you were shot, wasn’t it?”
“No,” Chet told her. “Not then.”
“He scared you, though, didn’t he? Tell me what he did to you.”
“None of that matters.” He released her then abruptly as if he feared her touch, and backed away. “You got the answer you wanted, now go.”
“But, Chet—”
“Go.”
Monica flinched. “All right, but there’s something you should know.”
“How much more of this is there?”
“Not much, I promise you.” Her voice wobbled a bit, but with the strength of her pride she managed to keep it under control. “There’ll never be anyone who loves you more than I do.”
“Monica.” He groaned. “Stop, please. This isn’t necessary.”
“It is for me, so do me the courtesy of listening. Someday you’re going to look back on your life and regret this moment.”
“The only thing I regret is not moving sooner. Another twenty-four hours and I would have been out of here. You couldn’t have waited one stinking day for this, could you?”
“No,” she threw back at him. She didn’t know when the tears came, but she felt their moisture against her face and brushed them aside. “I’ll haunt you . . . or rather, my love will. I swear that’s what will happen. It doesn’t matter if you travel to the other side of the world, I’ll be there. It’s my face you’ll see when you look at another woman. And . . . and when you sleep, I’ll be there each and every night. You won’t be able to close your eyes without thinking of me, without knowing you walked away from the one woman in all this world who loves you.”
“Damn it,” Chet stormed, his hands knotted into tight fists. “Next you’re going to tell me that you’re going to sacrifice your life for me. Listen, Monica, I don’t want you sitting here, believing that something’s going to happen that will change my mind. It’s over, understand? Over.”
“Don’t worry,” she whispered and her shoulders quivered. “That’s what I came to tell you. I won’t be waiting for you, I can’t, Chet. I’ve wasted too much of my life already.”
“Good,” he snapped. “That’s just the way I want it.”
Jody had dreaded the office Christmas party for days. She never had been one who enjoyed these types of social gatherings, and generally didn’t stay beyond the first few minutes. Glen, however, thought the party the ideal time to announce their engagement to their peers.
He’d presented her with a lovely engagement ring, a solitaire diamond that was large enough to feel heavy and awkward on her finger. She’d removed Jeff’s wedding ring years earlier, not because of any desire to put that part of her life behind her, but to satisfy her parents. Both were worried about her and although she’d hated it, she’d placed the simple gold band in her jewelry box to appease them.
She could tell from the sounds drifting from the reception area that the party was underway. There were enough goodies to feed a small Third World country. Everyone had contributed something. Jody was guilty of overdoing it herself, bringing a large homemade cheese roll and several dozen gingerbread cookies Timmy had helped her bake the night before.
Her mother was watching Timmy, and insisted Jody stay late and enjoy herself. Because she was with Glen, she was obligated to remain as long as her fiancé wanted.