Watching For Willa. Helen Myers R.

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      CHAPTER FIVE

      On Sunday, Zach was still dropping bombshells…and still groping in the dark.

      “Would you mind repeating that?”

      He recognized the ominous, chilly tone in Felix Fraser’s voice, but it didn’t keep him from pouring himself another Scotch from the bottle he kept on the corner of his desk. Swirling the melting ices cubes in the amber liquid, Zach took a sip, recalling a time right after the crash when he’d witnessed Felix’s Arctic-Attitude directed at Judith, who’d burst into his hospital room and pretended concern. It was the same frigidity he’d heard countless times since, when his agent negotiated with publishers, movie producers and audio rights reps. But this was the first time Zach had found himself on the receiving end of it.

      He found it oddly enjoyable.

      “You heard me.” Turning back to the computer screen, he eyed the last page of the chapter he’d finished only minutes ago. Two chapters in two days, not bad. “I’ve put off doing Under the City right now. I want to pursue another idea.”

      “But Carstairs is expecting City by Christmas” came the steel-coated-by-velvet reply. “They’ve issued a press release to that effect. Your readers are expecting Under the City.”

      “And they’ll get it. But not yet.”

      “When then?”

      “After Checkmate.”

      He could picture Felix, an elegant fifty-seven-year-old, tall, large-boned man, pinching the bridge of his El Greco nose as he fought for control of his temper. It was the curse of Felix’s Spanish, Scottish and Russian genes to be eternally at war with himself. He’d simply inherited too much passion, even for his six-foot-four-inch frame.

      “Lord almighty, Zach. Why don’t you simply take a stake and drive it through my chest? Exactly what the—” Pausing just in time to censor a particularly crude expletive because, like an alcoholic, once Felix started swearing it was difficult for him to stop, he drew in a deep breath and started over. “What is Checkmate?”

      “Only a fine madness right now.” The liquor was beginning to ease the fatigue, tension and pain in his body, and allowed Zach to indulge in an evil grin. “Primarily because I don’t know how it ends yet.”

      “I see. What about the premise? Do you have a clue about that?”

      The snideness was vintage Fraser, as well. The Houston literary agent was more than a fascinating, enigmatic study as a businessman; one-on-one he usually exuded a theatrically affected persona. Zach hadn’t been able to resist using him in his work before, but as a composite character. Never the man as a whole. He knew Felix would enjoy being immortalized in print, and wondered how much to hint that it might just happen, and soon.

      “A clue…all right. Call it three stories in one. A project like nothing I’ve ever done before.”

      “That’s what Under the City is supposed to be, and if you remember correctly, I had to practically prostrate myself before Carstairs to stop his complaining about the young antagonists in the story.”

      Zach could think of a few tongue-in-cheek responses to the idea that Felix would prostrate himself to anyone, but decided to leave well enough alone. He hadn’t called his agent to make more trouble for himself than necessary. First and foremost, he was on a fishing expedition.

      “Just hear me out,” he replied, attempting to sound believably entreating. “It’s a story, inside a story, inside a story. A play for revenge, and power and the sacrifice of innocence. Only—” he swung his chair around to see if his comely neighbor had finished hanging the blinds in her bedroom “—I’m not sure yet how much the innocent will have to sacrifice.”

      Felix’s responding sigh stretched like a full-grown python across the wires. “I don’t need this, Zach. I just saw you Friday night. You said nothing about switching story lines.”

      “You didn’t ask. If you’ll recall, you were on your way in from a meeting in Dallas and merely ‘stopping by to check on your favorite client,’ and a bit of my premium whiskey. You were unwinding and in no mood to talk shop.”

      “Well, I am now,” Felix snapped, clearly irritated that he’d missed the opportunity to catch on to this sooner. “And if you had anything close to a conscience, you would have brought up the matter yourself!”

      In the pregnant pause that followed, Zach watched Willa frowning over the instructions for the blinds. A part of him would be sorry to see them go up. Another part, less enthusiastic, but rational, knew it was necessary to her survival—and СКАЧАТЬ