Envy(152)

“I don’t believe so, either.”

But neither sounded convinced. “He’s not capable of it,” she stressed. “I wouldn’t have been attracted to him, wouldn’t have—”

“Loved him?”

“For God’s sake, Mike, I fell in love with the main character of The Vanquished. And transferred that love to the author. Look where that got me. I no longer trust my emotions. I believed that Parker at least cared for me. If I hadn’t believed that, I wouldn’t have slept with him. But maybe I’m wrong again. Maybe…”

She pressed her fist against her heart, recalling how cruel Parker had been that awful morning. Considering all the pain and resentment, bitterness and anger that had been simmering inside him for the past fourteen years, perhaps he was capable of murder.

To his mind, Noah had stolen the life he’d had planned for himself. Tit for tat. An eye for an eye. Noah’s life for the one Noah had taken from him. Noah’s life in exchange for Mary Catherine’s.

Now, that she could easily believe. Parker might not kill for revenge, but he might for justice. He had liked that girl. He had regarded her as his friend and felt compassion for her. He would feel justified seeking vengeance for her death.

She surged to her feet. “We’ve got to stop him.”

But at the door, she drew herself up short. She had panicked unnecessarily. Clasping her hands, she bowed her head over them as though in prayer. “Thank God.” Turning back around, she said to Mike, “We’re not too late. Noah doesn’t know that the writer I’ve been working with is Parker. He hasn’t read Envy.”

Mike dragged his hands down his face, groaning, “Oh, no.”





Chapter 35


Noah, fresh off a chartered boat from the mainland, entered Terry’s Bar and Grill with a condescending attitude that immediately catapulted him to the top of the endangered species list.

The locals disliked nonislanders in general, but they particularly disliked any who looked down their noses at them. They despised Noah Reed on sight. In fact, he might not have been allowed to tie up his boat at the dock if Parker hadn’t spread word around that he was expecting a citified visitor from up north. If anybody spotted such a person, he was to be directed to Terry’s, where Parker would be waiting.

Noah approached the bar and addressed Terry with a rude, “Hey!”

Terry, who happened to be uncapping a longneck at the time, sent the bottle of beer sliding down the bar toward one of his regulars, ignoring Noah.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

Terry shifted a gnawed matchstick from one corner of his mouth to the other. “I heard ya. People wanna talk to me, they talk to me proper, else they’re likely to disappear. Now get the f*ck outta my place.”

“I think you’ve already worn out your welcome, Noah.” At the sound of his voice, Noah spun around. Parker grinned up at him. “Record time, too.”

Noah gave Parker and his wheelchair a long, slow once-over. “She told me you were a cripple.”

Terry produced a baseball bat from beneath the bar. One of the regulars reached for the sheathed knife attached to his belt. Others merely glowered.

“She told me you were a prick,” Parker returned, keeping his smile in place. “But then I already knew that.”

Noah laughed. “Right back to our usual banter, aren’t we? I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.”

“Funny. I haven’t missed it at all. Want a beer?”

Noah glanced at Terry. “I think I’ll pass.”

Parker motioned with his head for Noah to follow him outside. “I’ll settle up with you later, Terry.”

“No problem.”

Every eye in the bar was on them as they left through the screen door and went out into the sweltering heat.

“You’ve got nerve, Noah. I’ll give you that.”

Noah scoffed. “Coming to see you?”

“No. Going into Terry’s bar wearing those loafers.” He looked down at Noah’s Gucci shoes with the gold trademark on the vamp. “Very fancy.”

Noah ignored the dig and slipped off his jacket. “Lovely climate,” he said sarcastically.

“Sorta reminiscent of Key West.”

Noah never faltered, but he didn’t take the bait, either. Parker led him to the Gator. “Climb in.”

“How quaint.” He settled into the bright yellow seat. “You don’t see many of these on Park Avenue.”

Using his arms, Parker raised himself into the driver’s seat, then reached down for his wheelchair, folded it, and placed it in the trailer. As he clicked on the ignition, he said, “Noah, you’ve grown into a regular Yankee snob.”

“You’ve just grown old.”

“Pain and suffering will do that to you.”

For the next five minutes, they rode in silence. Noah showed a marked lack of interest in the island. He kept his eyes on the narrow road ahead, never once commenting on the scenery or even looking at it. Parker, on the other hand, returned the waves of people they happened to pass along the way.

After one lady called out a greeting from her front porch, Noah turned to him. “What are you, the local celebrity?”

“Only cripple on the island.”