Why haven't you told Andre about Miami?

Daniella's hands clenched the steering wheel. She wanted to smoke a cigarette but didn't dare. If Andre were to catch the scent of it on her, he would lock her into that cold room in the attic. That was the punishment if they weren't pure, which was kind of a joke because they could drink and ply their marks with drugs, so who cared about cigarettes?

Andre. Smoking was not for the handmaidens. Purity. Ha. Like any of them were pure. Even Clarice, with all her talk of G.o.d, was a fake.

But they're all prettier than you.

Daniella burned inside. Maybe she would have that cigarette. Maybe she'd run away like Teresa, but would Andre even come after her like he would for Teresa? h.e.l.l no. She was the little brown wren who kept the outside world from invading their nest. She knew that's why Andre had chosen her. Without her, who would keep the disbelievers safely away from them?

But then again, without Andre, who would she be?

The thought of never having him in her bed again made her want to weep. She loved making love with him. Loved feeling him moving inside her, their bodies one. No, she didn't like it when the other handmaidens watched. She didn't want their love on display. She wanted it to be private. Special. Just for the two of them. Jerrilyn was a born exhibitionist and thrashed, moaned, and bucked for all she was worth whenever it was her turn, but Daniella kinda thought it embarra.s.sed Andre a little. She was chosen the least often for their circles of love, but it was torture whenever she was. Jerrilyn had a way of staring straight at Daniella with that hateful little smile that made Daniella lower her gaze in shame.

Sometimes she dreamed of killing them all.

She drove the last few miles back to the house and turned into the drive. The Malibu was the only car they allowed in the driveway, just in case the neighbors were paying attention.

Switching off the ignition, she pocketed the keys, staring up at the sun as she exited the car and headed for the front door. Andre would ask her a thousand questions about how she'd tracked Teresa, which she had no answers for, but she didn't care. She should have told him last night and didn't quite understand why she hadn't.

Entering the house, she stopped short upon seeing Andre standing in the hallway in one of their prayer robes and nothing else. The lapels were parted, showing a swatch of skin from neck to crotch, displaying his stiff, eager c.o.c.k, which was standing up like a flagpole. Clarice came giggling out of his bedroom, also robed, and she fell on him, taking him into her mouth and lavishing him with her tongue.

Daniella's stomach revolted, and she could feel her cheeks burn as Andre's dark eyes regarded her calmly, a little smile playing on his face. She managed to keep from screaming at them though she wanted to f.u.c.king kill Clarice.

She said in a monotone, "Teresa took a flight to Miami and she's catching a connecting one to somewhere else."

"What? Where?" Andre pushed Clarice away from him.

Daniella felt a surge of delight and power. "I don't know." She fought the smirk that stole across her lips as she witnessed Clarice's hurt expression. But the dumb b.i.t.c.h just moved forward and put her mouth back on his now flaccid member, trying to revive it. Good luck with that, wh.o.r.e.

Andre was lost in thought, or maybe Clarice's attention was sending him to a rapturous place, which made Daniella clench her teeth.

"I know where she is," he said after a moment. He patted Clarice impatiently on the head until she backed away, then brushed past her as if she were a piece of furniture, which cheered Daniella no end. "We'll have to go get her."

"We?" Clarice asked, gazing up at him.

"We'll meet in the prayer room with the robes. . . ." He was walking away from them. "One hour. Then we'll see about flights."

Daniella knew now why she'd delayed telling him about Teresa. Though Andre carefully locked up their money, occasionally he would take out thick rolls of cash and they would go on some mission. There was generally a downside to these sprees, and somehow Daniella always got the short end of the stick.

The last time they'd all gone somewhere they'd ended up in Las Vegas where Andre had picked up Jerrilyn.

With a sinking heart Daniella worried Andre was looking to expand his flock. They might be getting rid of Teresa, but someone new would be coming their way. The thought of sharing him with one more woman sent a cold spike of fury into her heart. She was going to have to do something about that.

No one was going to take care of her except herself.

Maybe killing someone wouldn't be that hard. In fact it might be downright easy, if it was one of the other handmaidens.

Callie stood in the living room, trying not to stare too hard at West, who was back on the balcony, looking over the street much as Tucker had. She didn't know what to do with him. He'd lost all trust in her. She understood why, but she didn't trust him, either. In fact, how did she know he was who he said he was? He'd asked for her ID, but she hadn't asked for his.

Do you really think he's lying to you about being West Laughlin?

No, but . . . there were a lot of unanswered questions.

"That article on the Internet didn't mention you," she said. It had been a while since they'd said anything to each other and for a moment he didn't react.

Then he half-turned.

"It mentioned your family . . . your father, brother, and grandfather, and Victoria. But there was no West Laughlin."

"I told you why."

"You're the black sheep. Right. Could I see your ID? Your pa.s.sport?"

He turned around and regarded her fully, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning indolently against the rail. "Now you want to make sure I'm who I say I am? You're a little late to the party." But he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. A moment later he slipped out his California driver's license and handed it to her. As she studied it, he said, "My pa.s.sport's in the safe at my hotel room. I was warned about pickpockets."

She handed his license back to him, and he lifted his brows. "It's you," she said.

"You're not going to accuse me of faking it?"

"That would be your line," she told him. "You thought Teresa was capable of that."

"That particular article only mentioned who was in direct line to inherit, not the rest of us."

"Of us?"

"My father had a brother, Jason, who was practically excommunicated by Victoria and my grandfather. Apparently Jace was one of those guys who follows cults. I understand it's a personality type. Some people can't live without being part of a group with a leader whom they can follow. After the fallout, he left for the South Pacific and never returned. Also, Stephen's mother, Talia, wasn't mentioned. She must be still around somewhere. She was still married to my father when he died and I don't think she'd give up on the Laughlin money that easily. I've read Wikipedia and most of the other sites about the Laughlins as well," he added dryly. "Interesting you chose the one about who's in line to inherit."

"You didn't give me time to even look before you showed up. I don't give a d.a.m.n about who inherits. You still think I'm Teresa," she accused.

"You're connected somehow."

"Hate to disappoint you, but we're not."

"Uh-huh."

Her temper flared at his all-knowing att.i.tude. "I never even heard of the Laughlins before you showed up. And for someone who acts like they don't give a d.a.m.n, you're pretty quick to go to the money yourself."

That scored a direct hit. She could see him getting angry. "So, that's not the reason you're after Tucker?" he grated. "Because he's next in line?"

"I . . ." She could hardly get the words out. "That's what you think? Really? You think I would-"

"Teresa would," he cut in, before she could work herself up to full outrage.

"Tucker is a wonderful kid, despite G.o.d knows what kind of care he's gotten. Maybe Aimee's not so bad. She's done something right with him."

"Stephen Tucker Laughlin is the sole heir to the Laughlin fortune," he said.

A coldness settled into her soul. She knew firsthand about the kind of ugly infighting that went on when one member of a family inherited and the others were ignored.

"That's another reason Victoria wants Tucker. He's not only her flesh and blood, he's also next in line to take over."

"He's also five!"

"Victoria never thinks she's going to die, so she probably expects to still be around when he's old enough to take over."

"But it won't happen that way," Callie argued.

"You and I know that," he agreed.

"You can't let Tucker be caught in the middle of that."

"I'm just giving you the facts."

"You need to step in and protect him. Maybe . . . maybe the reason your grandmother picked you to find Tucker is because she really wants you to take over."

"When pigs fly." He straightened from the rail and came back into the living room. Callie took a couple of steps away from him, too aware of the s.p.a.ce he took up. "I am not connected to Teresa," she said.

"You are. But I'll grant you that you might not know how yet. You're too good at playing this part."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"I'm good at getting to the truth. That's all I'm saying. Whatever happens happens, and whoever's standing in the way might get hurt."

"Does that include Tucker?" she challenged.

"He's the one innocent in all of this."

Callie didn't respond. The one thing she did believe was that West was on the side of the angels where his nephew was concerned. "Okay," she said, not really sure what she was agreeing to.

"If you're not Teresa, then where the h.e.l.l is she?" he asked softly. "And why is this Aimee taking care of Tucker?"

Callie shook her head. Even when she'd believed Aimee was Tucker's mother, the relationship had seemed off.

"Teresa must've given the bracelet to Aimee," he said. "Maybe as payment for taking care of Tucker."

"How could she leave her son with anyone in the first place?"

"Teresa clearly doesn't have your maternal instincts," he said. "Maybe Victoria's right and something went down with Stephen. Maybe she knows something about that accident that she shouldn't, and that's why she left and couldn't take Tucker with her."

"It's still not enough," Callie said.

He exhaled. "I'm going to have to watch Aimee's apartment, hope that she comes back soon."

"Actually, I'm supposed to meet her back at her apartment at three with the bracelet."

"You're giving it back to her?" he asked.

"Well, it's not mine, and I sure as h.e.l.l don't want it."

"It's not hers, either."

"So you say, and I believe you, to a point. But Tucker took the bracelet from her and gave it to me, so that's where it came from. Maybe she owns it rightfully."

"Doubtful."

"But it's yours to take from her?"

"That's what Victoria wants. It's hers."

"But you said it's possible Stephen gave it to Teresa, and then if she gave it to Aimee . . . I mean . . . you don't have any claim."

"Let's just go back at three and see what happens."

"I think it would be better if I went alone."

"Fat chance of that," he said. "Whoever you are, Callie Cantrell or somebody else, I'm tired of either searching for you or following you around. We're going together."

Chapter Eleven.

Fort-de-France. The pier. Blue-green water and the scent of the sea. Teresa breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. She was tired, rumpled, and afraid. For years she'd blindly followed Andre in whatever endeavor took his fancy, all the while thinking she was doing what she wanted. Without Andre she hadn't wanted to live.

Rubbing the back of her neck and lifting her hair off her nape, she swallowed and picked up her bag. She'd had the cab driver drop her at the pier, just in case anyone was watching her, which was absurd, really, but she still went with the subterfuge. She sat on a bench for a while, then made her way to a taxi stand, thinking about Aimee's apartment and Tucker. She hadn't made a return flight. She didn't know where she was going next.

All she knew was that she was taking Tucker with her.

Maybe I should get a room first and a cool drink.

She hated the idea of using any of her hard-earned cash. Grifting had always been an easy way to replenish diminishing funds, so she told the driver to take her to the hotel closest to the address she gave him for Tucker's apartment and drop her there. Fifteen minutes later, she was plunking down her credit card for the one-night stay, wondering how much time she had before Andre would come looking for her.

She shivered. Part of her almost wanted him to come after her. A crazy part of herself that just couldn't give him up. But no. It would be too dangerous for Tucker, who would fall into Andre's killing sights by virtue of being Stephen Laughlin's son.

That was the endgame, she figured. The Laughlins. Though Andre tried to be cagey about whatever he was really planning-calling himself The Messiah, going through all those crazy rituals-she knew him well . . . or at least the Andre he'd once been . . . and it was all about the money, really. She'd played along because she'd loved him so much.

What the f.u.c.king h.e.l.l had been wrong with her for so long?

Dropping her bags inside the rose-and-cream room of the boutique hotel, she glanced at the bed longingly. A bath first, and then to climb between clean sheets where no one would wake her.

She succ.u.mbed, knowing she shouldn't, knowing she might only have a short amount of time before the hounds were chasing her. But if all went well, it would be a while till Andre figured out exactly where she'd gone. He didn't know about Tucker, so he might not think about Martinique and any connections she might have.

Turning the taps, her smile was hard as she thought back to the last time she'd been here. She'd been falling in love with Andre, playing a game of cat and mouse with him. In those days, he'd been freer, not as involved in his ultimate quest as he'd subsequently become. He'd talked about getting what was rightfully his, but there'd been lots of time and for a brief moment she'd thought he might chuck the whole plan and settle down with her on this beautiful island. She already knew then how to go after a mark and separate him from his cash. She'd actually tried her wiles on Andre and had learned that he was too savvy. He had been onto her, but instead of being angry, he had wanted to join forces with her, and it had been what she'd wanted too.