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“No way. This is personal. I’ll take care of them both.”
“Tony,” Matteo said quietly, “let Ariel go.”
“You got to be kidding. Why would I do that? My cheating, adulterous wife’s got the same fucking morals as her old man. “
“I’m the one you want. I took her away from you.”
“The hell you did. You took what I discarded. She’s nothing but a burned out, brain-dead leftover.”
“And that’s why you can let her go. She can’t hurt you. Whatever it is you think she knows about you is lost inside her head.”
“Hey, lawyer-man, you’re not as dumb as I thought. Figured that out, did you?”
It had been a guess, but a good one. What else could make Pastore want to get rid of his wife except something she’d seen or overheard?
“I’m not,” Ariel said. “Burned out or brain-dead.”
Matteo pinched her leg under the blanket.
“She is,” he said. “There are times she can’t remember her name from one minute to the next. She’s useless.”
Pastore laughed. “Not quite useless, counselor, as you damn well know.”
“She’s good for sex,” Matteo said. “That’s it. But whatever you think she knows…”
“Oh, she knows, all right. She had a front row seat when I killed a guy. Sol Rabinowitz. Remember that, baby? Until then, she was worth keeping around. She looked good. Smelled good. Impressed the crap out of bankers and politicians and all the people I needed to get where I wanted to go. Then she walked into a room when she shouldn’t have and, pow, it all changed.”
“Tony. I’m telling you, she has no mem—”
“Maybe not, but that’s a risk I can’t afford. I admit, I didn’t plan on ending it like this. It was gonna be simpler. She’s nuts, I arrange to have her committed, no big shock when she offs herself with too many pills, but never mind. It can happen a different way. There’s a hundred places in these mountains where nobody will ever find her. Or you, either. So romantic. Romeo and Juliet, goin’ down together.”
“You don’t want to do this.”
“Of course I do.” Pastore grinned. “Besides, why should you care? Even if I let the two of you live—which I’m not stupid enough to do—she’d never let you screw her again.” A sly look came over his face. “What’d I hear her call you? Her knight? Yeah. Right. Some knight you were, but I bet she doesn’t know about that.”
“Listen, man—”
“I heard that story you told her. Mighty convenient, how you left out the real reasons the three of us had a little drink together.”
Matteo inched toward the edge of the bed. The Sig Sauer. He’d put it on the nightstand…
“Move another inch and she’s dead. And I’d hate that to happen before wifey hears the whole story. Ariel? You want to hear it? The true shit about your knight?”
Ariel sat up against the pillows, holding the blankets to her chin.
“Yes.”
Matthew reached for her leg. She’d moved just far enough away on the oversized bed that his fingers only brushed her skin.
“Ariel. Honey. Whatever he says—”
She glared at Matteo. “I heard what you said about me being only good for sex.”
“No. Honey…”
She looked at Pastore. “What were you going to tell me?”
“Well, it all started after you saw what I did to that idiot who’d tried to double cross me. You went whacko. Not out-of-your-head whacko. Good citizen whacko, is what I mean. You tried to call 911. Of course, I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to calm you down.”
Ariel took a long breath, then slowly expelled it.
“I remember,” she said softly. “You hit me.”
“What else are you supposed to do with a hysterical woman? But you were still yelling and screaming, so I had one of my people put you in your room.” His mouth twisted. “It was your room, all right. We got married and you insisted on your own room and, goddammit, you kept your door locked against me.”
“I remember that, too.”
“I told you I’d let you out once you calmed down, but you wouldn’t. So I helped you.”
“You started giving me pills,” Ariel said. Her voice trembled. “Drugs.”
“Calmed you down, didn’t it? Enough so I could begin havin’ a little fun with you.”
“Fun,” she said, and Matteo knotted his hands into fists.
God, he thought, God, just let me get to him. I don’t care what happens to me. Just let me tear out his throat…
“Maybe I overdid it. After a couple of months, I had to get you a nurse. Well, a nurse who understood how I wanted things done.” He laughed. “Then I got an offer I couldn’t refuse. Some people said they wanted me to run for Congress. The problem was, there was no way to keep you around, if I did that. So… Pay attention, baby, ’cause here’s the shit your boyfriend left out. I decided to pretend I wanted to divorce you. Went to our man here for advice. Sure, he said, I’ll handle the divorce.”
“Ariel. That’s not what—”
“He was hot to do it ’cause I said I’d pay him a lot of money to set things up as, what do you call it, an amicable divorce. One attorney for the two of us.”
“That’s a lie.”
“And one fat fee, just for him.” Pastore shook his head. “Thing was, I didn’t really want a divorce. What good would it have done me? You’d have been a loose cannon, just waitin’ to go boom.” Pastore chuckled. “But your boy didn’t know that. And that was how I liked it. I wanted him to think a divorce was on the agenda until he saw you. Then he’d know you were crazy, and when I asked him to draw up commitment papers, he’d jump at the chance.”
“Goddammit, that isn’t…”
“Don’t interrupt me again, Bellini,” Pastore said coldly, “or I’ll do her first and let you watch. Capisce?”
Matteo fell silent. What else could he do, except stall for time? Pastore’s gun was still pointed straight at Ariel’s head.
“And he did. He said you were nuttier than a fruitcake. In fact, he was in the middle of drawin’ up those papers when you made like a rabbit and took off. So I went to lawyer-man Bellini’s office and asked him to find you. Promised him half a million bucks to do it.” Pastore grinned. “He found you, all right, but then he realized what a great piece of ass you were and all bets were off. Well, for a while, anyway. I figure he’d have returned you to me after he got tired of fucking you.” His voice turned cold. Vicious. “Only one problem. I wasn’t gonna stand around with my thumb up my ass and wait.”
“Ariel,” Matteo said, “he’s lying.”
Ariel ignored him.
“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said to Pastore.
“My pleasure, baby.”
“Because…” Slowly, she began pushing the blankets aside. “Because it’s helped in ways you can’t imagine.”“Honey,” Matteo said. “What are you doing?”
Stupid question. He could see what she was doing. So could Pastore and his henchman. She was emerging from under the blankets, baring her shoulders. Her breasts. Her belly.
“The thing is, Anthony, I really don’t want to die.”
“No.” Pastore’s eyes were all over her. His voice was hoarse. “I bet you don’t.”
“I remember everything now.” Her voice was soft and honeyed, as was her smile. “And, who knows? The doctor said people all react differently to concussion. Well, especially to amnesia.” She slid one long leg out from under the blanket. “Or maybe it’s these days I’ve spent with your lawyer.” She laughed. “Are all lawyers so dull, I wonder?”
Pastore laughed, too. The sound was rough. Raw.
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“I’ve missed you, Anthony.”
“Bull.”
“I’ve missed you terribly.”
“You think I’m gonna fall for that crap?”
“Your big mistake was drugging me.”
“Drugging you was the smartest thing I ever did. Well, the smartest thing next to threatening to bring your old man’s Ponzi scheme down if he didn’t play ball.”
“You’re wrong. It scrambled my thinking. If you’d left me alone, I’d have come around.”
Matteo watched her in horrified fascination. Was this an act, or had the return of her memory actually distorted Ariel’s mind? She was right about one thing. Anything was possible, when it came to the human brain.
“Or maybe not.” She gave a little shrug. It made her breasts lift. “All I know for sure is that I’m still your wife. You can still have me, if you want. The way we lived? The stuff you bought me, the diamonds, the furs, the clothes?” She tossed back her head and a torrent of gold waves tumbled down her back. “I know I said I hated all of it. But I didn’t. I liked it. My father had a lot of money, but he was stingy. He never bought me any of those things.”
She pushed the blankets completely away. Pastore swallowed. Matteo could hear the sound in the stillness of the room.
“As for this man. Your lawyer.” She sighed. “I’m sorry about that, Anthony. I’ll just have to find a way to make it up to you.” Her smile was totally, dangerously female. “But I’ll think of something.”
“Ariel,” Matteo said. “Wait. Don’t do this. Please. Whatever you’re thinking…”
Ariel reached for her robe. “I’m thinking that I want my husband back.” Slowly, provocatively, she drew the robe to her. “But I’m cold. And I don’t want you looking at me anymore. Neither does my husband. Isn’t that right, Anthony?”
“Jesus, Ariel, are you crazy? You can’t even get that robe on by yourself.”
She laughed. “I don’t have to get it on. All I have to do is hold it against me. Anthony will help me with the rest. Won’t you, Anthony?”
The gun in Pastore’s hand trembled. The one in Jimmy’s hand did the same.
“Ariel,” Matteo said urgently, “he lied to you. About me. About us. Think about what you’re doing.”
