This time he just might not survive.
11
Thursday, September 9, 9:00 a.m.
31st Street, Birmingham
Fleming Estate
He wouldn’t be happy to see her.
Annette Baxter entered the code at the gate to the twelve-foot wall shielding the Fleming estate from public access. With excruciating slowness the gate slid aside for her to enter.
It didn’t matter whether Otis wanted to see her right now or not. She had to talk to him. She could trust no one else.
She accelerated, rolled through the entrance, then sped up the curving drive. Once she passed the halfway mark, the zoom lens tracking her every move from the two-story home across the street wouldn’t be able to see her. For weeks now she had ignored the prying eyes of the federal agents as well as the occasional cop when they bothered, eluding surveillance only when necessary.
But now everything was different.
Now she understood that this wasn’t about Otis.
It was about her. And what she knew.
Evidently with the decision of one powerful client to turn on her, others had scratched up the courage to join the mutiny. Or perhaps they had been prompted. At this point there was no way for her to know who wasan ally or who was an enemy. But the identity of theonewho had started this domino effect was obvious. Stopping him might just be impossible.
No. Annette climbed out of her Lexus. She was not beaten yet. She took a moment to adjust her slim-fitting jacket. She’d worn a black skirt that hit midthigh with a skintight, lace-trimmed black camisole. A leopard-print push-up bra showed just enough to intrigue; last were her matching black four-inch heels. Even her hair was styled in a flawless chignon.
Otis liked her to look a certain way. He had taught her to use her mercilessly toned body to her advantage at every opportunity. Her no-good parents hadn’t given her much, but she couldn’t attribute most aspects of her looks to anything but genetics. At least her parents had been good for something before they deserted her, forcing her to survive on her own. And she had survived, by wit and sheer force of will.
Pretty or not, socially acceptable or not. Legal or not.
She strode toward the front of the grand Georgian mansion. As she did she considered that Otis had taught her how to dress, how to wear her hair and makeup, and just about every damned thing else she knew. She had learned her lessons well.
Independently wealthy, highly sought-after skills, and the fear, if not the respect, of everyone who was anyone in Birmingham. Otis Fleming had schooled her in how to survive. For nearly a decade no one had dared cross her ... until now.
Strangely enough, the sole reason she was in this predicament was because she’d done her job. Exactly what was required despite the extreme risk to her position, professionally and personally. Washethankful? Fury set her teeth on edge. Not one damned bit.
All she had worked for, her entire world was poised on the brink of crashing down around her ... and there appeared to be nothing she could do to stop the inevitable plunge toward certain destruction.
Hehad the power to do that.
Her lips trembled but she squelched the outward display of weakness. She would not be afraid. She was not ten years old anymore.
Annette stilled, closed her eyes, and fought the surge of memories. She had gotten her period. Her mother had been at work on her assigned street corner. But her mother’s boyfriend, Reggie, well, of course he’d been home. He was always home. And always drunk. He’d shown her exactly what to do ... and then he’d raped her. The first of many personal violations.
Deep breaths. Slow, really slow, deep, deeper. Annette forced the ugly past behind her. She was not that little girl anymore. She squared her shoulders. She was a powerful woman. One who could meet any challenge and survive.
This one would prove no different. One way or another she would regain control.Hehad no idea how very resourceful she could be when necessary. The real question was, could she bring him down before he brought her down?
It was all in the timing.
At the intricately adorned double doors Annette steeled herself for the encounter. Though she trusted Otis explicitly, he was the one person who possessed the power to intimidate her with a single glance.
Otis owned her as he did so many other powerful people in Birmingham.
Annette didn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell. She opened the door and walked inside. Otis’s personal security would have identified her vehicle and her as she navigated the driveway long before she ever reached the door.
“Good morning, Ms. Baxter.”
