Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(75)

“I have nothing to do until Dylan brings me my tomatoes, and I know you guys don’t talk, not really. It’s all”—she deepened her voice and did a fair intimation of her husband—“‘Hey, man, relationship problems suck. Let’s drink and pretend nothing’s happening. Maybe bump shoulders in a manly show of support before the big game starts.’”

Reece laughed and it was genuine, if not a little weak. “What big game? And since when have either of us cared about sports?”

“Yes, you’re right. With you two, you’re more likely to bury yourselves in work.” She sighed, sipped her own coffee. Which reminded him he was still holding his mug, and he drank, too.

“Not that I’m any better,” she added, setting her coffee aside. She sat forward in her chair and scanned his face. “Which is exactly why I’m going to ask about the deal with Irving James. I received a request from his accountant for our books.”

His temples started pounding in tune with his heart. He took another fortifying gulp of coffee. “I’m sorry, Alicia. Work is the absolute last thing I want to talk about right now.”

She said nothing for a moment, then stood. “It’s a bad idea.”

“What is?”

“The deal with James. I’ve told you that from day one.”

He opened his mouth to tell her there was no longer a deal, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth. The room started to tilt-a-whirl around him and he tried to get up, but couldn’t find his feet.

Alicia stepped around the coffee table and took the mug from his numb fingers. “I really didn’t want it to come to this. The blackmail should have been enough.”

“W-Wha…?” Even to his own ears, he sounded unintelligible.

“C’mon. Let’s get you into the bathroom before Dylan gets home.” She slid an arm around his waist, wedged a shoulder under his armpit, and lifted him. He tried to push her away, fight her, but none of his limbs were responding to his commands. He had two f*cking black belts and he could do nothing but stumble along beside her and try to keep his head upright.

In the bathroom, she none too gently dropped him on the floor. The tile was cool against his cheek. His skin felt on fire. “Wha…didya…give me?”

“Xanax. And I didn’t give it to you. You were so distraught over your fight with your wife, you came in here, found my prescription, and took too many.” Alicia pulled a pill bottle out of her pocket, opened it, and put it in his hand. His fingers wouldn’t close around it, and the pills scattered across the floor. She stepped back. “Unfortunately for you, I won’t realize it until Dylan gets home. By then, it’ll be too late.”

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, wobbled, and crashed back to the floor. Pain thundered through his head as it bounced off the tile, and the room wavered. He flopped to his back, stared up at the wife of his best friend, a woman he’d known for close to fifteen years. And all he could think was…

“Why?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t let anyone see our books or they’ll know I’ve been laundering money through the company. Dylan—” She paused, seemed to gather herself. “He has a gambling problem. You didn’t know that, did you? I’ve done my best to keep it quiet, but he was in trouble. A lot of trouble with the wrong people. So I made a deal to keep him safe, but then you started this whole thing with Irving James… I knew I was about to be exposed. I thought blackmail would stop you, but that didn’t work. Then I gave the pictures to Lena, knowing she’d try to ruin you with them, but that doesn’t seem to have worked either. So now, you have to commit suicide because if you’re dead, Dylan will have control of the company and there will be no deal.”

“Already no deal,” he tried to say but it came out garbled. He tried again, enunciating, “No. Deal.”

“What?” Alicia knelt down, turned her ear close to his mouth. “What did you say?”

He fleetingly thought about biting her, chomping down on her earlobe, but that wasn’t going to help him get away from the crazy bitch when he couldn’t move. “There’s. No. Deal. I… ended it. Last…night.”

“Oh God.” She reeled backward, tripping over her own feet and slamming into the wall. “Oh God.”

“I’sokay. Call amble—ambulance. We’ll forget this.”

“I can’t. They’ll arrest me. I’ll lose Dylan. He—he doesn’t know about any of this. He’ll hate me.” She shook her head hard, strands of dark hair escaping her ponytail. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t lose him.”

Alicia fumbled for the door. Just before it shut, she looked at him again, and he thought he saw real regret in her eyes. Or maybe that was only the Xanax blurring his vision.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was only trying to protect Dylan.”

And the door shut.

Reece drifted somewhere between wakefulness and unconsciousness. His thoughts scattered and blurred, but every once in a while, one would pop back into sharp focus.

Shelby.

If he died here, he’d never see her again and, Jesus, he wanted to. If he died here, he’d never be able to apologize.

He made another attempt at pushing to his hands and knees. Got up and wobbled there, but didn’t go down.