Blood Always Tells by Hilary Davidson (top 10 novels .TXT) 📕

bubbly could have been lolling around since her last visit. Dominique wanted no part of that. Instead, she found a can of Diet Coke and downed it in a few swallows. Her mouth was still cottony, as if it were so dry it might crack. She put her fingertips to her temple, certain she had a fever. It’s just nerves, she reminded herself. She poured a glass of Scotch for Gary, then immediately dumped it down the sink. In spite of everything, she had reservations about mixing alcohol and the tablet she’d carefully crushed into powder in advance. It would make everything easier, but at a greater risk. Instead, she opened a carton of orange juice and filled the glass.

If any man ever deserved this, it’s Gary, she thought. But that didn’t stop her stomach from flopping over in queasiness, or her hand from shaking as she added the powder to the glass.

Chapter 2

When Dominique returned to the living room, glass in hand, she found Gary had lit a crackling fire. She had a tendency to overheat, and the room was almost too warm for her now. Gary was hunched over on the couch, elbows resting on his knees and his forehead resting on one hand, whispering into his phone. When he noticed Dominique, he hung up abruptly and tucked the device inside his leather jacket. Was he actually calling one of his other girls? That was a lot of gall, even for a dog like Gary.

“Business call,” Gary said. “The last one this weekend, I promise. Thanks for the Scotch, babe.” He did a double take. “Wait, this isn’t Scotch.”

“I decided orange juice would be better for you.” Dominique handed him the glass. Gary frowned and set it on the coffee table. “Tell me about your business call.”

“It’s just something in progress. Nothing solid yet.”

Dominique fought the urge to laugh. What business had Gary ever been in that hadn’t been a spectacular failure? There was the chain of high-end boxing gyms that was TKO’d within a year. After that, he’d invested in an energy drink that turned out to contain a fat-burning chemical that was banned in thirty-eight countries. There was a deal with a video game company that would’ve been excellent, but it fell through when the company lined up a better-known fighter. Along the way, there was also the shoe manufacturer who’d offered Gary a whopping amount of money to hawk their cross-trainers—so much that Gary had turned down an endorsement deal from Nike—but had ended up on the ropes, in a desperate bankruptcy filing. Those weren’t even the worst examples. Dominique had tried to forget about the hugest embarrassments, like the oversized blender with Gary’s face on the front of it. It could’ve been the next George Foreman Grill! Gary claimed. It wasn’t.

“Let me guess. Your buddy Tom Klepper is getting you into another bad deal that will tarnish your rep?” Dominique asked.

“Hey, lay off Tom. There aren’t many people you can trust in this business.”

“You can trust Tom to screw up.”

“What do you have against him?”

“Well, he’s kind of a parasite,” Dominique said. “I met a lot of people like him in the modeling business. Hangers-on who offer you drugs. They want you weak and pliable.”

“You think that’s what Tom is doing to me?”

“No, of course not. It’s just… everything he gets you involved with is messed up. He completely lacks judgment or business sense.”

“Come on, babe.” Gary smiled. “This is our reunion weekend. I’ve been looking forward to this since… well, since you left. I knew we’d get back together. We belong together.”

“I’m sure you had plenty of things to keep you busy,” she said.

“Too much. I need to relax. It’s been a hard month. Hell, it’s been a hard five years. I’m like an inmate at a North Korean work camp.”

“Poor little rich boy.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Go ahead and mock me. Maybe one day you’ll marry some psychotic rich freak who will make your life into a living hell.” Gary lifted the glass and took a drink. If he noticed anything amiss, he was hiding it well. But he set down the glass and pulled out his phone again, staring at his screen and jamming his thick thumb on a button. He’d taken only a single sip from the glass she’d given him. Could he smell what was in it? That was supposed to be impossible. Still, what did she know, except what she’d picked up from her friend Sabrina, who’d given her the pills, and Google.

“Do you want to talk about what’s really going on with you?” Dominique asked.

“Not really.”

Dominique drew her thumbnail across her fingertips, a nervous gesture that clacked against the empty air. She was starting to panic. Step One was getting Gary to the country house so they’d be alone and no one could interrupt them. Step Two was getting him to drink the unusually relaxing cocktail she’d prepared for him. There would be no Step Three without that.

“You’re acting like…” Dominique struggled to hold her anxiety in check. She thought about Gary kicking her out of the condo, and that shot some venom back into her veins.

“What?”

“Like something’s wrong.” She knew she sounded lame. “You’re making me nervous. Maybe after you finish the juice I’ll get you some Scotch.”

“Never thought I’d live to see you turning into a bad influence,” Gary said, taking a long drink. He sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. I know I’m being an ass.” His expression was contrite. “It’s just… there’s a lot going on right now. With Trin, I mean.”

That was the worst thing about being involved with a married man, Dominique decided. His wife was always in the room, too, like some invisible, mocking ghost whose presence drew all the oxygen out of the air when you least expected it.

“I know this might sound crazy, but…” Gary took a breath and another drink. “I’ve found some things out, and I think she’s plotting something.”

“Plotting…?” Dominique’s throat was tight. If that