| Subject: Chapter 218 - Part 2 (16 and above) (end of chapter 218) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, November 28, 06:50:05am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (203 > )" on Monday, October 03, 07:35:40am
He changed the subject, never admitting that she had won a point. "But she came to me for the money to get away." His look deepened. "It was *me* she trusted to help her."
"At gunpoint," the woman's mother pointed out. "She merely hoped that, having gotten it from you, you would understand to leave her alone."
It wasn't working, the man refusing to believe--his anger returning. "She wanted to get away from George."
"And you," Adrian nodded. "That was why *I* bought her tickets for the trip." Her voice softened. "It was why I was the only person she told where she was going." There was nearly a saddened sort of snort. "She only took enough money from you to make her point."
Lord. It was then that, despite all his attempts, the knowledge started to sink in--her information too trenchant to deny for long. Every point he remembered in the past seemed to support it; he sighed, glancing down. He only wished he knew of some way to make it go away.
It wasn't so much that Jones felt anything like guilt over this new insight he had gained, only a dim sort of sadness--the wilting of his flowery memories of the affair. Of course, he had never much cared what Bobbie was thinking or feeling--such details too petty for any real man. But to know that she had so feared him . . .
He didn't entirely finish his thought, was still rather unaware of his deeper emotions--Adrian driving him toward the true purpose of her visit. It had been long delayed--she feared too long--but their previous conversation had been necessary, the man's antagonism toward her needing to be sidestepped before any further help could be given. "And now you're doing exactly what she feared most." The man's eyes returned to her mildly. "You're going to kill her only child."
He was calmer now, if no more doting a father. "It's out of my hands. Whatever happens is up to Hillinger, Jamie, and Michael." Nikita didn't rate a mention--woman that she was.
His guest understood his assumptions, knew that he saw any girl as far too weak to stand up for herself; it was what he counted on in keeping the unfortunate women in his "houses" from killing everyone who watched over them. Still, she moved on. "And Mr. Fain?" His gaze grew more focused. "What of his involvement in this evening's 'event'?"
Lord. He always forgot how much she knew--all of her sources. It didn't make him like her any more, her alliance with his rivals all the more infuriating. Still, he feigned ignorance, refusing to take part. "I don't know what you mean."
She had expected the bluff--as much as she prayed for him to give in. The evening was moving ever deeper, her granddaughter's fate all the more terrible, the longer the delay. If she didn't force him to give up his interference soon . . .
She refused to finish this thought, forcing him on. "You'd never allow them to go in all alone. It goes against everything you stand for." As disgusting as all of that might be. "You'll be certain to have someone there to watch them, to finish the job, if necessary. Fain's the likeliest candidate, has the shakiest background. Besides, he has constant access to Nikita. Still," she shrugged, "if it's someone else, it doesn't matter. The question remains." Her gaze moved in. "Are you really going to let your daughter die?"
She left the terrible query hanging, wondering what might be going on in the man's mind. His look was still even, the pause eternal, before he finally answered. "Is it better to let her live with her seducer?"
Christ. Adrian snorted, her appearance still so calm--her rage at this man eternal. But, sadly, this was no occasion for righteous anger or pleading tears; neither could hope to move him. The only thing he understood was business--and she would be the most formidable negotiator he had ever had to face.
"Bobbie might not have lived with you, but she certainly had an apartment you provided her with. You gladly made her your whore--whereas Michael wished to marry your daughter long before they became lovers." Her gaze cut in so softly, a knife which barely allowed its victim to notice they were bleeding. "Wouldn't that make you the worse of the two? Or is it only other people who have to live and die by your twisted standards?"
Her straightforward analysis was less than comfortable, but she hadn't meant for it to be anything else. He bristled slightly, turning the tables back on her to avoid self-reflection. "And what about you? How do you excuse letting George play out his sick little needs with her?"
"I don't," she shrugged, her look unvarying. "But what I did was a mistake--not seeing what a man was, allowing my daughter to stay with him, when I should have been there too." Her eyes dug in further. "What *you* did was a conscious decision. There is a difference." A huge one--whatever the similarity in the possible outcomes.
He hated her for saying this, refused to take it in, but she didn't allow his open mouth to sound a word, moving on to more unwanted points. "Whatever the origins of Nikita, or of her own, more legitimate, unborn child," his look of fury increased exponentially at this new knowledge, as she went on, "the question remains. You allowed Nikita to grow up without a father by terrifying her mother into running away. Will you force her own child to grow up fatherless by robbing Nikita of the husband she loves? Or, even worse, will you destroy that child now by robbing its mother of her life?"
He was about to answer--but it was clear that whatever he was going to say would be anything but productive; she simply continued. "Your daughter is about to die; possibly your son as well. I imagine it would only take one phone call to stop the whole hideous process before it begins." For the first time, her look was almost pleading. "You claim to have loved my daughter. If that were ever remotely true, save her child. You know damn well it's the one thing she wanted the most."
Christ. Unfortunately, he did--felt ground down by her logic, her insights; he couldn't even say why. While he knew he would probably regret the decision, he was almost willing to give in. There was only one more, non-negotiable, point. "I could save her." The fury burned in his gaze. "But I won't allow her to live with that man."
Hm. As little as she liked it, this could be good news, if it were played right; Adrian approached it the best she could, staring him down. "You wish her to divorce him--to have a child on her own? The whole world would know about it, would shun her completely." The look moved further in. "Or do you want her to have an abortion?"
The very word made him bristle visibly, the thought disgusting to him. True, it was a procedure which the whores he oversaw sometimes had to endure, whether they wanted to or not--and they certainly didn't always survive it. The whole process was risky, at best--some back-alley butcher doing the dirty work if you paid him enough. What was such a man to care if the patient died? Jones nearly snorted. Then again, the girls were whores. What did anyone care if they were gone?
This truth was eternal, the loss not even a financial one for him; there were plenty more where they had come from. But to think of his own daughter undergoing such a procedure . . .
He was an old-fashioned man, would always see women as coming in two distinct categories: the good girl and the whore. While Nikita had more than flirted with the second category, she was still married, presumably had created this child in wedlock. That was what made it a sin to think of destroying it. The idea sickened him. Still, to think of her living with Michael . . .
His glare focused in on his opponent, his words still rather unclear. "Both are unacceptable." The rage showed quite palpably. "But I won't have her living with that man."
His true preference was obvious now--to have Michael killed, to leave Nikita a grieving widow. Such a woman was pitied and embraced, if she gave birth. It was the perfect option, as far as he could see--but it wasn't one Adrian could allow him to consider for long.
She took only a moment to ponder her options, saw the one way out--as unpleasant as it was. She didn't bother to explain, needing to force his hand, if the pair had any chance left at life. "How about if I promised you they would be apart for at least a while?"
His eyes narrowed. "How long?"
Her head shook. "It's hard to say. Probably at least several months, possibly several years." There was an internal shudder, but she forced the thought on. "They could even be separated for good."
This sounded like an acceptable option, might give his daughter enough time to realize that she no longer needed the bastard who had seduced her--but his look did move in. He was almost ready to agree. "And you can make them do this?"
Her sigh was quite deep. "I don't think they'll have a choice."
This was the best deal he was likely to gain tonight, as little as he liked it. While he could let the plans of the conspirators against them move on, it would only mean the severing of the last link to his beloved Bobbie--and possibly the loss of his son, as well. Although the latter was probably inevitable, there was no need to rush such an outcome; he sighed, his hand moving to the phone. "You have a deal." It was the most he could hope for, just now.
Thank God. Adrian nearly closed her eyes, the relief almost overpowering--but she couldn't give in to such a feeling just yet. Not only did they have to see how far the night had gone, whether any of her efforts were in time, but there was also the potentially devastating compromise she had just made to contend with; her saddened sigh lingered. Still, hopefully, the pair would be saved. That was all she could ask for. So long as they were alive, there was still a chance. Maybe they could be together someday.
[End of Part 218]
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