Chapter 23

The light leaking through the half-closed blinds of her office confimed the rumors that Miss Parker had actually shown up for work today. 

He paused outside her door, struck by the thought that this could be the last time he ever paid her a visit here.  He smiled grimly.  Well, he intended to make it a memorable one.  At least for him.

He grabbed hold of the door handle then thought what the hell and knocked.  A faint “go away” sounded from within, and he took that as his cue to enter.

Miss Parker was sitting on the couch.  She turned a startled gaze his way.

“I’m surprised to see you here, sis,” Lyle said.

From the way she looked, he was amazed she’d made it in at all.  Her face was pale and drawn with dark circles under her eyes.  She wore her customary office attire – a tailored blazer over a silk blouse with a matching skirt that was just a little too short and a little too tight to be considered completely appropriate – but today the outfit somehow seemed…wrong on her.  She sat with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand, but she didn’t project an image of a woman relaxing with a drink after work.  She seemed more like someone who had been brooding over her Scotch.  Obviously, the rumors about her turning to the bottle in recent days were true.  Well, good.  That should make his plans for the evening a bit easier.

But he still felt a flash of irritation that she would let Jarod’s death affect her in this way.  Yes, the guy had had many traits that women found attractive – good looks, excellent physique, superior intellect – but despite his genius ability to change personas every day, Lyle had found him somewhat boring.  He’d been so incredibly predictable, always working to help the weak and abused.  How could his sister have been interested in someone like that?  She was a Parker – strong, capable, ambitious, and a little devious – so she should have been drawn to a man with similar characteristics, someone who would pose a challenge, get her juices flowing.  Although he supposed the quest to capture Jarod had given her just that.

“I’m surprised to see you, brother.  Why are you still here?  I thought you would have scurried off by now, looking for the nearest rock to hide under.”  Her words held their usual bite, but with an underlying fatigue.

Lyle closed the door behind him, resisting the urge to lock it.  Better to not raise her suspicions.  “The thought did cross my mind,” he admitted, “but the Triumverate has far-reaching arms and I would never be able to feel truly safe, no matter where I went.  And life on the run is not for me.  Too hard on the wardrobe,” he added, adjusting the cuffs of his suit.  “I’m not a black tee shirt and jeans kind of guy.”

Her eyes flashed at his reference to Jarod’s usual get-up.  He made note of her quick reaction, realizing she wasn’t as sloshed as he’d hoped.  Oh, well, he’d come prepared for that, he thought, his right hand slipping into his pocket and fingering the tiny pill he’d stashed there.

“Well, if Mutumbo hasn’t sent anyone after you yet, maybe you’re in the clear.”

If the words were meant to offer hope, her tone told a different story; she was clearly disappointed that he hadn’t been dragged off to Africa yet.  “I doubt it,” Lyle said.  “The Triumverate wants to make sure they have all the facts – or at least make it appear that way – before they pass judgment.  Letting me sweat it out in the meantime is just a mild taste of the kind of treatment I can expect once I’m actually in their custody.”

“Maybe,” Miss Parker said neutrally, but he could see from the new light in her eyes that she liked the idea.

“No, I have no illusions that I’ll be let off the hook,” Lyle said, moving farther into the room.  He eyed the open bottle of Scotch and considered asking for a drink but decided that might set off alarm bells.  “Especially after what you wrote in your report.”

“You read that?”  She didn’t seem surprised.

“Yes, I wanted to make sure our accounts of what happened matched.”

“What happened is you shot and killed Jarod.”

Lyle took a seat in one of the curved-backed guest chairs in front of her desk, after turning it to face her on the couch.  He crossed his legs in an attempt to look casual.  “We both know I was only trying to wound him.  Yet your written report makes it sound like I couldn’t wait to shoot him, when in fact, I only pulled the trigger because he turned his gun on you.”

“Still sticking with that excuse?  Come on, Lyle; we both know that Jarod would never have shot me,” she said.  She maintained her own seemingly relaxed pose, but her one foot started to jig nervously and her knuckles were white from tightly clutching her tumbler of Scotch.

No, Jarod would not have shot to kill her.  But in a moment of desperation, he might have chosen to wing her, give her a flesh wound to stop, or at least slow, her pursuit of him.

He studied his sister in silence for a moment, noting with interest how she grew more agitated with each passing second.  Finally he said mildly, “Believe what you want, but I say you were damn lucky that I was there.”

“I was armed and certainly didn’t need you to defend me!”

Like most brothers, Lyle enjoyed irritating his sister every now and then, but as he watched twin spots of color blossom on her porcelain cheeks, some decidedly unbrotherly feelings stirred within him.  He knew he was taking a huge risk with his plans for this evening, but after living for a week under the threat of imminent deportation to Africa, where brainwashing, torture or worse awaited him, he felt like he had nothing left to lose.  And he wanted to make one last delicious memory to see him through the nightmarish days that lay ahead.

“Besides, when I walked in, Jarod was aiming his gun at you, brother.”

Reluctantly, Lyle shifted his attention from the vibrant red of Miss Parker’s luscious lips to the words that were coming out of her mouth.  “Are you saying that I was in danger?”

She took a swallow of Scotch and didn’t answer, averting her eyes from his probing gaze.

Lyle frowned slightly as he considered his own question.  Would Jarod have shot him? Seemed highly unlikely, given that he’d never done so in the past when he’d had the opportunity. 

Well, what did it matter now?  “If Jarod was going to shoot me, I’m glad you arrived when you did, Parker,” he said.  “Your entrance provided the perfect distraction.”

Staring down into her drink, she muttered, “I know.”  She started to raise the glass to her lips then changed her mind and set it on the end table next to the bottle of Scotch.

Lyle was not surprised at her obvious dismay that she might have inadvertently saved him from injury or worse; her hatred of him was nothing new.  He decided not to comment on it; he was far more interested in the fact that she had finally put down her drink.  Now he just needed to draw her attention away from it…

Hm, perhaps a comment on their strained relationship was called for.  “You know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder how different things might have been if Raines had never taken me as a baby and given me to that crazy couple,” he said.

Miss Parker looked confused by the sudden philosophical turn the conversation had taken.

Good.  Keep her off balance.  He stood up and casually stepped over to the desk.  “My biggest regret is that I never got to know our mother,” he said, in as soft a tone as he could muster.  He picked up the silver-framed photo that was one of his sister’s prized possessions and stared down at the image of mother and child.  Everyone commented on the uncanny resemblance between Catherine Parker and her daughter, but their personalities made them as different as night and day.  Lyle much preferred the feistiness of his twin and the fierce light that came into her eyes when she was angry.  Time to see if he could strike a spark now.

Studying the picture, he mused, “Who knows?  If I hadn’t been stolen at birth, I might have been the baby she’s holding in this photo.”

Even he was unprepared for the volatile reaction he got.  “Give me that!”  Miss Parker fairly flew across the room to snatch the photo from his hands.  In doing so, she cut herself on the edge of the frame.  As a droplet of blood appeared on her finger, she uttered a mild oath and pushed him aside to retrieve a tissue from the box on the far corner of her desk.

Lyle quickly but quietly sidestepped over to the end table and deposited the little white pill into his sister’s drink.  She was still tending to her wound when he moved back to his former position.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.  I know how much you still miss her.  It’s just that I… I recently realized that I miss her, too, even though I never had the chance to know her.”  He paused then added, with what he hoped was just the right touch of sadness, “Strange, but that almost makes me miss her more.”

            His sister remained silent, staring down at the precious photograph she still held. 

            Time to move things along.  Lyle cleared his throat and headed towards the open bottle of Scotch, this time making no attempt to hide his movements.  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.  “I think I could use a drink.”

            That snapped her out of her reverie.  She was at his side in an instant, her hand closing on the bottle before he could touch it.  “Fine,” she said sourly, “but I’ll pour.”

            Don’t trust me, sis?  Good for you.  Hiding a smile, Lyle went and got a glass for himself.  He brought it back to the desk, behind which Miss Parker now stood.  She gave him a generous shot of whiskey then topped her own drink off, as well.

            Lyle raised his glass.  “To what might have been if we’d had the chance to grow up together as brother and sister,” he said.

            She took a gulp of her Scotch.  “There’s a cheery thought,” she mumbled, settling tiredly into her luxurious leather executive chair.

            Lyle sat back down in one of the chairs before her desk.  “Oh, I’m sure we would have been very close,” he said.  “The twin bond is quite strong, you know.”  He let out a low, mirthless chuckle.  “Sydney might even have included us in one of his studies.”

            Miss Parker eyed him balefully.  “I doubt that,” she said.  “I don’t think our results would have supported his theories.”

            Now that she was seated in her rightful place behind the desk, she seemed more like her normal dominant self.  “Now, we have a lot more in common than you care to admit, sis,” Lyle said.  “We’re both smart, attractive, ambitious, resourceful, ruthless when necessary –”

            “I’m not psychotic,” Miss Parker said.

            Lyle felt his face muscles tighten, but he managed to maintain his pleasant expression, mainly because he knew the entertainment portion of the evening was approaching.  And sooner rather than later, he thought as he watched his sister take another sip of her drink.

            “Such a harsh label,” he scolded mildly.  “I’ll admit I’ve made a few mistakes in the past–”

            “That’s what you call kidnapping, torture, and murder – mistakes?”

            “If you’re referring to actions I took on behalf of the Centre –”

            She interrupted yet again.  “I’m talking about what you did when you were still a teenager, Bobby,” she spat.  “And your extra-curricular activities since then.  All those missing women…”  Her voice trailed off and she looked slightly queasy.

            Lyle wondered if she was sickened by what she imagined he did to his female victims or if the drug he’d added to her Scotch was starting to take effect.  “Yet, for all my supposed crimes, here I am before you – a free man.”

            “A condemned man,” she said quickly with a touch of satisfaction.

            Ah, yes.  Of course she was thrilled by the thought of him in the unforgiving clutches of the Triumverate.  Well, fine.  If thinking about the horrors that might be inflicted upon him in the near future kept her from noticing the unusual symptoms her body was about to experience, then he would indulge her.

            He spoke quietly, letting a hint of the fear he’d been fighting all week come through in his voice.  “What do you think the Triumverate will do to me?”

            She stared at him thoughtfully, considering.  “Well, I doubt they’ll turn you into a born-again Bible thumper like they did Raines.  I see you more as an insurance salesman.”

            “I can only hope that all they’ll do is brainwash me and send me back.”  Lyle paused to take a swallow of his drink, making sure his hand trembled slightly as he raised the glass to his lips.  “I doubt I’ll be that lucky, though.”

            Miss Parker sat back with a sigh.  “What do you want from me, Lyle?  You don’t expect your big sister to tell you everything’s going to be okay, do you?”  Her words were harsh, as usual, but spoken in a weary tone. 

            Lyle said bitterly, “I don’t expect anything from you.”  Then, realizing he’d mistakenly let his true feelings show, he tensed, expecting his sister to eye him with renewed suspicion.

            But she appeared distracted.  Her face was flushed.  “What’s with the air conditioning in this place?” she grumbled quietly, slipping out of her blazer.

            Now he was the one distracted – by the sight of her in a black lace-edged camisole.  He swallowed and tried to steady his quickening pulse.  Patience, Lyle, he told himself.  He couldn’t make his move until he was sure the drug was working.

            “Oh, didn’t our father tell you?  With the record-breaking heat this summer, the Centre’s trying to save a little money by setting the temperature a little higher on weekends.”  He glanced at his watch.  “What’s keeping you here so late on a Friday, sis?” 

            She blinked at him. “What?”

            She was definitely feeling the effects now.  Lyle spoke a little louder.  “You really shouldn’t drink so much.  It’s not healthy.”

            She stared at the glass in front of her then turned an unfocused gaze on him.  “Wha- what did you do?”  She spoke slowly, her voice slightly slurred, but he could sense the rising panic behind the question.

            He leaned forward and deposited his own glass on the desk.  “I just added a little something to your Scotch to help you relax,” he said casually.  “You’ve been through a lot this week.  Too much stress can kill you, you know.”

            She made a fumbling attempt to grab the phone, but Lyle stood quickly, unplugged the receiver from her desk line, and swept her cell onto the floor and out of her reach.

            She tried to make a run for it.  Lyle watched in mild amusement as she lurched and swayed across the room in slow motion, for once her high heels impeding her forward progress.  Just before she reached the door, he hurried over to her and grabbed her from behind.

            “Lemme go,” she mumbled, struggling to break free from his grasp.

            Even with the mixture of alcohol and sedative in her system, she was still surprisingly strong.  Lyle had to tighten his grip – one arm hugged around her waist, the other clamped around her neck – to keep her from escaping.  “Calm down, sis,” he said close to her ear.  “What kind of brother would I be if I let you leave in this condition?”  The scent of her perfume was intoxicating.

            “Come on, you should lie down,” he said, dragging her towards the sofa. 

            “No,” she moaned, but her attempts to pull away grew weaker and weaker until she was almost completely limp by the time he lowered her to the couch. 

            Lyle stared down at Miss Parker, slightly disappointed that the drug had already dulled her reactions.  He’d always found her the most beautiful when she was angry.  But the big blue eyes looking up at him now held only a glazed expression. 

            He leaned over her.  “I’ve often wondered how things might have been if we weren’t brother and sister,” he murmured, reaching out to caress the soft pink skin of her cheek.

            She flinched slightly and managed to slur, “Don’t…” before her eyelids fluttered closed.

            “Shh, just relax,” Lyle soothed.  “You might even enjoy yourself.”  He smiled and ran his fingers through her silky hair, reveling in the feeling of power he had over her at this moment.  “I know I will.”