Passion to Die For. Marilyn Pappano
“Remember the last time I saw you?” Ellie interrupted. “When I pleaded with you to let me come home? When I was hungry and sleeping in abandoned buildings and I begged you to help me?”
Martha’s expression was contempt tinged with regret. Not because she regretted throwing her teenage daughter out of the house, not because she’d never loved or protected Ellie the way a mother was supposed to, but because her past actions were going to interfere with getting what she wanted now. She was about to be held accountable, and Martha had always hated being accountable.
“You had to learn a lesson,” she said sourly.
“What lesson? That I couldn’t count on my parents? I already knew that. That the next carton of cigarettes and the next case of beer were more important to you than me? I knew that, too. Just what the hell lesson was I supposed to be learning out there?”
“Don’t you cuss at me. I didn’t tolerate it back then, and I won’t now. You won’t disrespect me.”
The urge to laugh bubbled inside Ellie. The idea that she felt anything remotely resembling respect for this woman was ludicrous. If Martha dropped dead in front of her right that moment, she would feel nothing more than relief that such an ugly part of her life had ended.
“You want money,” Ellie said again, her voice flat. “How much?”
Martha smiled, showing teeth in need of care and greed that made her eyes damn near sparkle. “Well, now, it’s hard to say. Like I said, your daddy’s dead. There’s no reason for me to stay in Atlanta, and truth is, it’s a little late in life for me to be starting a new career. I kind of like the idea of retiring, resettling to be close to my girl and the grandbabies she’s sure to give me someday. I looked around that pretty little house of yours, and that back bedroom would suit me fine. I could even help out down here sometimes, you know, welcome customers to our restaurant and chat with them about this and that.”
Ellie’s spine was stiff enough to hurt. There was no way she would ever let Martha move into her house or help out at her restaurant. She’d burn both places down before letting Martha taint them. Drawing on the cold deep inside her, she said, “So you get a better life than you’ve ever known. And what do I get in return?”
Martha’s vicious smile reappeared. “Your fancy friends don’t find out about this.” From under the trench coat, she produced a manila envelope. “Here. You can keep it. It’s just copies.”
When Ellie made no move to touch it, Martha tossed the envelope on the seat of the rocker next to her, then tugged her coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to say yes right now. Take a walk down Memory Lane. Think about what you stand to lose. I’ll be in touch with you in a day or two.”
Ellie numbly watched her pull the hood over her limp hair, then clump past and down the steps into the rain. She didn’t look to see which way Martha went. The only place Ellie wanted her to go was away, and that wasn’t going to happen until she had what she wanted.
When everything was still, Ellie picked up the envelope with unwilling fingers and hid it inside her own coat. She would take that stroll down Memory Lane—more like Nightmare Street—later. First, she had a restaurant to close for the night.
The clock in the hall chimed eleven times, rousing Tommy from the edges of sleep. The television was still on, framed between his booted feet propped on the coffee table, and Sophy was snuggled beside him, her sweater rustling against his shirt as she shifted. Damn, he must have fallen asleep not long after they’d settled on the couch.
“I should go home.”
“Or you could spend the night.”
He could. It wasn’t as if he had someone to go home to. And he’d slept over before—not a lot but enough to be comfortable with the idea. But having dinner at Ellie’s Deli had guaranteed that his mind would be on someone else—looking for glimpses of her, waiting for her to come to the table to greet them like the old friends they were, wondering how he’d been lucky enough to go there on a day when she wore his favorite outfit: white blouse with a deep V and black skirt that clung to her hips so snugly that it needed a slit so she could walk. Conservative clothes that concealed a tiny lace bra and matching thong, all set off by those incredible black heels. Just the sight of them…
His body twitched, and he silently cursed, hoping Sophy hadn’t noticed. He wouldn’t insult her by pretending he wanted her when Ellie was all over his mind. Her sleek blond hair. Her amazing legs. The confident way she moved. Her smiles, ranging from polite to intimate to wicked.
Oh, yeah, and the drop-dead cold shoulder she gave him these days.
“When it takes you that long to come up with an answer, it’s pretty clear.” Sophy sat up, lowering her feet to the floor.
An answer to…? Then he remembered: staying the night. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just…I’ve got to work tomorrow, and it’s been a long day—”
“And spending the evening at Ellie’s wasn’t the best way to get in the mood to sleep with another woman.” Sophy scooted to the edge of the couch, then looked at him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Rumor is that you broke up with her. If she’s got this much effect on you six months later, why’d you do it?”
He’d issued an ultimatum, and then he’d had to live with it. He’d demanded marriage, kids, living together, commitment and she’d opted for nothing. It had been a lonely six months, but faced with the same situation, he’d make the same demand. He wanted more than a long-term girlfriend. If she couldn’t give him that, someone else could.
Like Sophy.
“It’s complicated,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. Keeping hold of her hand, he went to the front door, where he snagged his jacket from the coat tree. After sliding it on, he wrapped his arms around Sophy and kissed her.
She tilted her head so the kiss fell on her cheek. “Are you still in love with her?”
Grimly he gave the best answer he could. “I’m trying not to be.”
Sophy studied him for a moment, then leaned forward and brushed her mouth across his. “You’re still welcome to spend the night. I know, not tonight. But maybe next time.”
“Sure.” Provided they didn’t go to the deli, and he didn’t see or think about Ellie all night. Yeah, then he might be good for someone else.
“It’s all right about her,” Sophy said. “I mean, I knew going in…”
Somehow that didn’t make him feel better. He said goodbye and brushed a kiss across her forehead, then opened the door to a blast of cold air. Closing it quickly behind him, he took the wooden steps two at a time, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and set off down the street.
It had been Sophy’s suggestion that they walk home from dinner. Between the canopies that covered the storefronts and the live oaks that shielded the path through the square, they’d arrived significantly drier than if they’d walked the block north with no cover to his SUV. Now, with everything closed up for the night and the streets empty, he wished for a closer parking space.
Tommy was passing the gazebo in the square when a rustle of movement caught his attention. Someone hunkered on one of the benches inside the structure. The dark coat could belong to anyone; the pale blond hair could only be Ellie’s. What the hell was she doing there?
He wanted to walk on. He should have, but he was a cop. He didn’t like things out of place, and Ellie alone in the square late at night was definitely out of place. She should have finished closing up the restaurant over an hour ago, should have been home in bed.
Should have been home in bed with him.
When his boot landed on the first step, she stiffened, then whirled around to face him. There