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Overview
Tess McDonald has a score to settle. It was she who set into motion a series of events that caused the murders of two adversaries. Tess even turned complete strangers, Kim and Nikki, into partners of a deadly crime. With life good now that their nemeses are out of the way, they celebrate. But not for long. On the night that the three women reunite, Tess receives a phone call that has the potential to ruin everything that she has put in place. Vincent, the one man that Tess would have changed her life for, has found her and her cohorts and he knows everything. She agrees to meet him with the intention of silencing him for good. But Tess is shocked when Vincent asks her to leave with him and put her criminal past behind her. However, Kim and Nikki aren't about to let her go so easily.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781429936118 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | St. Martin's Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 12/09/2008 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 256 |
| Sales rank: | 939,291 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
DONNA HILL has twenty-nine published novels and has been featured in Essence, Daily News, USA Today, Today's Black Woman and Black Enterprise, among many others. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, New York, where she writes full time.
Donna Hill, author of books including Divas, Inc. and In My Bedroom, lives in Brooklyn, New York. She has more than fifty published titles to her credit, three of which (Intimate Betrayal, Masquerade, A Private Affair) were adapted for television. She has been featured in Essence, the Daily News, USA Today, Today's Black Woman, and Black Enterprise, among many others.
Read an Excerpt
Wicked Ways
By Donna Hill
St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2007 Donna HillAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-3611-8
CHAPTER 1
KILLING VINCENT WASN'T PART of her plan. He should have stayed in New York and left well enough alone. He shouldn't have contacted her — told her that he knew everything — told her that he would not allow her to continue hurting people.
Vincent. Damn you.
Tess McDonald's pulse beat a little faster. She'd been in love with Vincent, and if she really thought about it, she still was, at least as much as she allowed herself to love anyone. That made what she had to do so much more difficult. However, she didn't live in the kind of world where love was an option. Allowing feelings to enter into her life resulted in this — a rendezvous with murder.
Tess eased her rented white sports car along the dark narrow roads. A light drizzle fell onto the windshield. The full moon's iridescent light flashed from behind the tops of swaying palm trees.
She'd come to Aruba not only to recover from months of tension, anxiety, and murders, but also to reestablish her business. For more than a decade she'd been the highest paid and most influential madam on the East Coast.
A rueful smile tugged the corners of her full mouth. She'd worked hard to assemble her elite stable of women and develop her powerhouse clientele list. She'd had a multimillion-dollar business, and Tess intended to reclaim it here in Aruba. Her former clients included everyone from Fortune 500 CEOs to politicians and judges. The key to her long-standing success was discretion, for which she'd been well compensated.
Life had been good — until Tracy got too close. That her own sister had been the catalyst for the demise of her business was unfortunate, to say the least. Tracy's zeal as an assistant district attorney for New York City — always on the side of justice, law, and order — led directly to her death. Life was full of ironic twists, wasn't it?
Tess would never forget the night of the newscast that detailed the gunning down of Assistant DA Tracy Alexander. Her sister. Dead.
Now Tess was once again on the precipice of loss. It's always those closest to you that brought the most harm, she mused, navigating the gravel road. Perhaps she didn't keep her enemies close enough. She almost laughed. Almost.
After relocating to Aruba it had taken her months to get set up again: to recruit the perfect women, to cultivate relationships with the men of wealth who lived on the island, as well as with those who visited on holiday. Tonight's elaborate gathering at her secluded villa was the culmination of all her work. She'd left her guests in the capable hands of Charrie Lewis. Hopefully, this task wouldn't take long and she'd be able to return before she was truly missed.
She'd gotten Charrie, her original business partner from back in the city, to join her. Tess trusted Charrie implicitly. Equally important, she'd convinced Nicole and Kim that if they joined her as well, they could finally be free from their pasts. They would reap the rewards that were due them. But then Vincent had found her. Tracked her all the way here from New York.
She couldn't let him ruin it all — and not just for her sake but for that of everyone else she'd enlisted. Nicole and Kim had risked everything, committing crimes from which they'd ultimately walked away scot-free, crimes she'd convinced them to commit. The three of them were bound by that secret. It was up to her to ensure that their pact was never discovered. Only Vincent stood between them and total freedom.
The skyline lit up with electricity and thunder exploded overhead. Adrenaline surged through her veins.
She pulled up to the motel where she was to meet Vincent, and slowed the car. Her .38 was tucked neatly inside her purse on the passenger seat. What did Vincent have planned for her? Would he make a scene? Were the local police waiting?
No. Vincent would do this alone. She knew him. He loved his autonomy. Yes, it would be just the two of them, face-to-face.
VINCENT STEPPED OUTSIDE, looked skyward. A storm was brewing. It was close. A light sprinkle danced around him.
He lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke into the muggy air. The fleeting scent of sulfur wafted beneath his nose.
He peered into the darkness, the moon obscured now by thickening clouds. Tess was close. He could feel her as surely as he could feel the bulging erection pressing against the fabric of his jeans. Anticipation of a bust always did that to him, and so did Tess McDonald. He'd let that personal flaw cloud his objectives once. Not again.
Headlights drew closer and then stopped. A car door opened. Vincent reached for his gun.
Thunder boomed. Vincent felt a searing pain in his side. His legs gave out. His .45 slipped from his hands to the sandy ground. He followed suit.
Tess pressed her body against a tree, standing stock still. Her heart was pounding so violently, her head began to throb. She listened for sound — for movement. When she was sure it was safe to do so, she stepped out into the moonlight. The shape of a sprawled body was ahead. Crouching and with her gun at the ready, she ran over to the motionless form.
Blood pooled beneath him. Tess listened intently for any hint that the gunshot had been heard by the local residents or passersby. She grabbed the limp body beneath its damp armpits and dragged the dead weight to her car.
Vincent groaned. Blood flowed onto the soft leather seat. Tess stepped on the gas. Not too fast, she cautioned herself. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself by speeding.
Suddenly the sky opened up, and the deluge nearly blinded her. Within moments the wipers were useless. Tess gripped the steering wheel, trying in vain to see the road ahead. She stole a glance at her wounded passenger. Sweat drenched his forehead.
Shit!
Headlights appeared in her rearview mirror. Her heart pumped faster. Should she speed up or slow down?
The other car's horn honked. The driver had switched on the turn signal. Tess eased her car to the right side of the road, and the other car sped up and went around her.
Tess released the breath that had lodged in the center of her chest. Vincent groaned again.
She had to find sanctuary, and she had to get rid of the car. There was only one place she could go.
He may be a man of power now, Tess thought as she drove, a man of great status, but Winston Sinclair would still help someone like her. Or rather her specifically. They had a past, a hot stormy history that had changed her life, at least for a while.
She'd been young when she met the dashing island man in Washington. He was handsome, polished, and on his way up the political ladder in Aruba. He'd come to the States to study the economy. They'd been introduced at a restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. Tess was in college at the time, but early on she'd developed a taste for the finer things and had found ways to support her expensive tastes.
The attraction between them had been instant — perhaps because they knew it couldn't last. Perhaps it was because he was married and a liaison between them was forbidden. Or maybe it was pure and simple passion. He was different from all the others. It was the first time she'd regarded a man as something more than a means to an end. A part of her fantasized that she and Winston could have a life together, that he could make an honest woman out of her. ... But it was only fantasy.
Their affair lasted for six months, and then Winston returned to Aruba and Tess discovered she was pregnant.
Being young and in love, she convinced herself that she would become a single mom. She'd give up her "other life," and she'd love her love child with or without its dad in the picture.
"Pregnant!" her sister Tracy screeched when she'd called and told her the news. "Tess, are you crazy? You're only nineteen years old. You're going to fuck up your whole life."
"I want this baby, Tracy."
"What about a career? Your life?"
"I can make a life."
"Don't do this. You'll regret it."
"So I guess I don't have your support?"
"No. Not for this, Tess. It's a mistake."
"Thanks, Tracy." She'd hung up the phone and never spoke to her sister about it again.
Tracy was in New York attending Columbia University with aspirations of moving into law. Tess, on the other hand, was secretly hoping to find someone to care about her one day. Her deceased parents hadn't cared. It was clear since childhood that her fraternal twin, Tracy, was the favorite. Tracy could do no wrong. So of course she would think that this pregnancy was an atrocity.
So Tess decided to go it alone. She knew it was pointless to tell Winston. He would never leave his wife for some teenager. But in the end, she'd done what was best for her and the child. She'd never felt like that about a man again ... until Vincent.
TESS DROVE SLOWLY up the long winding driveway, ringed on either side by towering willow trees. A few lights dotted the windows of the vast estate. She approached the entry gate and waited.
"Yes," came the sudden terse squawk from the intercom.
"Tess McDonald. I'm here to see the prime minister."
The gate opened immediately. Since her arrival on the island, Tess was a frequent and favored visitor to the private home of the island's prime minister. She hoped that relationship would pay off now.
The heavy wrought-iron gate slowly parted. She drove along the lane toward the front door and then around to the back of the house. She pressed her fingers to Vincent's throat. His pulse was weak, and his breath had grown increasingly sharp and raspy.
Tess grabbed her purse, got out of the car, and locked the doors. She hurried around to the front of the house, dashing through the rain.
Earl, the butler, was waiting. "Ms. McDonald, was the PM expecting you?"
"No. But it's urgent that I see him," she said, a bit breathless. She wiped water from her face.
"He has guests in the study. Come in out of the rain. I'll see if he can be disturbed."
"No! I mean no, I'll wait here. It's rude enough of me that I came without calling first. But please impress upon him that it's urgent."
Earl peered at her through the shadows and then nodded before walking back into the house.
Tess stole a glance over her shoulder. The seconds that passed after Earl's exit seemed interminable.
When Winston appeared at the door, he was as dapper and handsome as always. Winston epitomized the "stately gentleman," from his imposing six-foot-four height and solid two-hundred-pound weight to his smooth olive complected face, framed in salt-and-pepper hair and tapered beard. But appearances were truly deceiving. For all his outward pomp, behind closed doors, Winston Sinclair was an insatiable animal who gave as good as he got.
"Tess. My gawd, what on earth are you doing out in this weather? Come in." He extended his hand.
Tess grabbed it. "I can't. But I need your help."
CHAPTER 2THE GUESTS back at Tess's villa on the other side of the island began to take their leave. The party had been a stellar success, despite Tess's obvious absence. The stunning array of women whom Tess had handpicked for her new entourage had effectively charmed the men of money and power in attendance. They'd come in all their finery, flaunting their wealth and prestige, forging new liaisons that would be beneficial for all concerned.
Kimberly Shepherd-Benning and Nicole Perez couldn't have been more pleased. The move from New York had been well worth it.
They'd both left behind the ugly deeds of their pasts. This was the chance that Tess promised, a chance for a very lucrative future.
"So what do you think?" Nicole asked Kim as they walked together into the main room, drinks in hand. The white-tuxedoed combo played light jazz with a reggae beat in the background.
"I think Tess is a brilliant, manipulative businesswoman with vision."
"You admire that, don't you?"
Kim turned to Nicole. "Of course. Don't you?" She took a sip from her glass and waved to a departing guest.
"I admire power," Nicole said in a light Hispanic accent. "This is an opportunity for me to have some of my own." She watched the men from beneath a veil of dense black lashes; her onyx hair hung in a thick ponytail that caressed her lower back. Money flowed from the assemblage as fluidly as the drinks flowed into them, she observed. That knowledge suffused her like adrenaline. She'd spent the better part of her life poor and struggling, always at the mercy of others. She'd saved as much as she could from the fast and furious days of the car heists she'd pulled with Trust — God condemn his soul to hell.
But now the door was open to fortunes she'd only dreamed of. To think, none of this would have been possible had Tess not opened the Pandora's box of revenge that steamy summer night during the New York City blackout. After hours of being trapped together on an elevator, the three strangers — Tess, Nicole, and Kim — became unlikely partners in unspeakable crimes. With no transportation in or out of the city, the trio made its way to Kimberly's standing hotel room on Seventh Avenue. ...
BY THE TIMEthe second bottle of brandy was finished, the three women had shared stories of their early beginnings, their struggles and triumphs. More important, they shared the minute details of the objects of their hatred — from their habits to their hangout spots to their associates. They laughed, they cried, they drank some more, wallowing in their anger and misery, giving in to that dark untapped place in their souls and buoyed by the power of one common objective: retribution.
"I have an idea," Tess slurred.
"No more ideas from you," Nicole said, her accent thick and stilted. She giggled.
"Gimme a piece of paper, Kim."
Kim looked at Tess through bleary eyes. "Not ... getting up ... get it yourself. Next to the bed." She leaned her head back against the seat of the couch and closed her eyes.
Tess pushed herself up off the floor with the help of a good shove from Nicole and stumbled into the bedroom. She sat down on the side of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer.
On each of three slips of paper she wrote a single name and stuck them in separate envelopes, then sealed the envelopes.
"Tell you what," she said, reentering the living room, her words trailing behind her. "I'm going to put these envelopes on the bar. Everybody gets one."
"What's in 'em?" Nicole asked. "Money?" She snickered.
"The name of the person you're going to kill, silly."
Kim burst out laughing and slapped her thigh. "Like a Secret Santa!" She cracked up laughing again.
"I know my vision is kinda cloudy, but I can count. That's four envelopes." Nicole frowned. "Who else is playing?"
"The fourth one is blank." Tess looked at them. "One of us may be lucky enough to get it." Tess waited a beat. "It's like a game of Russian roulette. Who wants to play? Who's woman enough? Who wants to make them pay for screwing up our lives?"
"I do!" Nicole managed to get up off the floor and staggered over to the counter. She stared at the envelopes. After several moments of indecision, she picked one and returned to her space on the couch. She stared at Kim. "Well, whatcha waiting for, Christmas?" She jerked her chin toward the counter. "Maybe you'll get lucky and get the blank one. You don't have the heart to do anything bigger than signing checks for the leech husband of yours anyway." She started to laugh and couldn't stop.
"Fuck you," Kim said with such regal elocution, it shut Nicole up in midchuckle.
Tess covered her mouth, but that didn't stop her burst of laughter. "Didn't think you had it in you."
Kim walked to the counter with as much dignity as she could summon and snatched up an envelope without a second thought. She tossed Nicole a look of triumph and a haughty lift of her chin.
"Guess that leaves me." The contents of her stomach suddenly rose to her throat. What was she doing? This was crazy, a deadly game. But she knew they would never go through with it anyway. It was just a drunken game. She gripped the side of the counter to keep from falling. A crooked smile distorted the smooth lines of her face.
"What happens to the last envelope?" Kim asked.
"Burn it," Nicole said. "Give it here. I'll do it."
Tess tossed her the envelope. Nicole held it over the flame from the candle, and they all watched the paper curl, burn, and disintegrate into ash.
"We can really do this," Kim said, as if the idea had finally come together in her mind.
"You damned right we can." Nicole polished off her drink.
Kim shifted her body. "I think it's the perfect solution to our problems," Kim said, moving into CEO mode. "There's no connection between any of us. But we must keep it that way."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Wicked Ways by Donna Hill. Copyright © 2007 Donna Hill. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
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