The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [83]
“Coward. You’re just using Tess as an excuse.”
“Excuse? What the hell, Marion? Aren’t you the one who keeps telling me just how dangerous Jim Beckett is? First you tell me how much help Tess needs, then I’m supposed to just walk away to attend such mundane matters as the colonel’s death?”
Marion’s face turned several shades of outrage. “Bring her.”
“Bring her?”
“You heard me, J.T. You don’t want to leave her alone, you need more time to train her. Then bring her with you. Take her to D.C.—it’s not rocket science.”
“Oh, that’s just a great idea, Marion. You’re right. I’ll bring Tess to D.C. I’ll introduce her to the man who beat my sister and raped my wife. And just to see if he’s really dead, I’ll leave her alone in the room with him. We both know nothing brings the colonel to life like a beautiful, young, defenseless woman.”
“You delusional son of—”
“I hope he’s dead!” J.T. declared. Then his voice dropped low. “Then I will go to D.C. just so I can dance at his burial. I’ll build a champagne waterfall in the middle of the front lawn and dance around it, singing ‘Ding-dong, Daddy’s dead’ for the whole world to hear.”
“You are hopeless! But most of all, you are drunk!”
Tess stared at J.T., waiting for him to deny the accusation, to state once again that he was a man who always kept his word.
Instead, he said, “I beg to differ. I’ve had only one drink. That means I am merely myself.”
“But you drank, J.T. And you swore not to. You violated your own twisted moral code. Christ, look at you. Just look! You can’t follow through on anything, you can’t commit to anything. You are actually a talented human being and yet your life is nothing but a string of failures. And now you’re selling whatever future you might have had to the worm in the bottom of the tequila bottle.”
“It was only one drink, Marion.”
“One is all it takes.”
His jaw clenched. “And you?” he whispered. “The perfect daughter to the father who beat us as a hobby. And he did worse than that, didn’t he, Marion? You can live your life in denial, but I was there too. I know what he did. I heard his footsteps in the hall every night, I saw him go into your room. Don’t you think I tried to stop him? Don’t you think I . . . I . . . God. I wanted to kill him.”
Marion’s face had turned to stone. “Leave me out of your lies, J.T.”
“I’m not the one whose life is a lie. If anything, my life is too honest.”
“Forget it.” Marion threw her hands in the air. “I wash my hands of you, J.T. You’re sick and beyond help. You’ve destroyed our family, you know that? All of Daddy’s hard work, all of his respect, ruined because of you. That’s it. You’re a waste of my time, and I’m outta here.”
She whirled and stepped toward the hall. J.T.’s hand snaked out fast, wrapping around Marion’s wrist.
She looked down. “Keep your hand there one minute longer and you will lose it.”
His grip tightened anyway and he said, “Don’t go.”
“Don’t go?”
“Stay. Stay right here, Marion. Don’t go back to D.C. and don’t go back to him. Let him die. Let the colonel just die. And then maybe you and me . . . maybe we can start over again. For God’s sake, Marion, you’re my little sister.”
Marion glanced up at his face, at eyes that pleaded.
And in a flurry of movement she pivoted, chopped his forearm with her left hand, and yanked her arm free.
“You’re a weak, self-pitying bastard, J.T. And there’s no way you’re dragging me down with you.”
She thundered down the hall like a Sherman tank, pushing Tess aside. Seconds later, the sound of the slamming door registered her departure.
J.T. slowly rubbed his arm where a red welt was rising to life. He looked lost, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Tess took a step forward.
“Going to jump in as well? Extract your pound of flesh while the meat’s still fresh?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
There was no mockery in his voice. No sarcasm, no challenge. She hadn’t thought there would be a time when she would miss that in him.
“It’s not fun to kick a man when he’s down?” she offered weakly, searching