Hell Bent

thing I left the JD at home this time around.”

“It’s no use,” Annabelle muttered as she laid down the twelfth losing hand in a row. “This isn’t working. Either Dylan’s playing with marked cards or I royally suck right now because I can’t bloody-well concentrate on anything but my impending death.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair while Dylan gathered up the cards for another shuffle and deal. “Anyone got any alcohol?”

“No’ on me,” Clara chimed in with a helpless shrug.

“I might be able to scrounge somethin’ up, dear,” Beatrice offered, unbuckling her seat belt and rising from the plush leather seat where she’d been sitting next to her daughter. “Why don’t you and I head to the back an’ see what we can find?”

Annabelle glanced up at Beatrice, who smiled reassuringly. Eventually, she nodded and stood. She may as well give this a shot. At the very least, getting to know Jack’s ex-wife a little better might prove a welcome distraction.

They moved through the private jet’s luxe interior, walking, un-impeded and with plenty of room, between the large, plush leather chairs. They reached the back of the plane and turned a small corner to enter a tiny kitchenette, complete with microwave and refrigerator.

“Let’s see now…” Beatrice pulled her large blue hobo purse off of her shoulders and began fumbling around inside of it. “Ah, ‘ere we are.” When she withdrew her hand, it was clutching a half-full, apple-shaped bottle of Laird’s Applejack brandy. Annabelle’s eyes widened. She’d heard of this stuff. It was something like ten years old.

“This here’s left over from Christmas, it is,” she said as she took off the top and pulled a glass cup down from one of the skinny cupboards above them. “It’s twelve years old an’ pricey as a bugger, but to all good things, there is a season, right?”

Annabelle only smiled and took the glass that Beatrice handed her. The woman poured a good amount of the amber liquid into each glass and then re-capped it and slid it back into her purse. With that, she raised her glass.

Annabelle chinked her own softly against it and Beatrice nodded, immediately taking a long swig of the sweet digestif.

Annabelle watched her for a moment and then shrugged. It was time to join the party. She put the glass to her lips and took a big swallow.

The liquid slid across her tongue, stinging her throat all the way down and filling her mouth and nostrils with the smell of apples as if she were inhaling a heady perfume. She almost coughed. But, she managed to get the first too-large swallow down and amended the second sip to be much smaller.

Beatrice smiled at her, a new twinkle in the woman’s gorgeous, feline green eyes. “I never ‘ave liked flying much either, you know,” she said, her smile never wavering. “So, I always carry emergency stashes. ‘Course I don’t shit bricks over it like you do, but still, I can completely understand.”

Annabelle couldn’t help the smile that stole over her face. She could imagine that her own eyes held somewhat of a twinkle at that moment, and not all of it was due to the liquor.

“Now, dear, let me get a few things aired out with you, if you don’t mind,” Beatrice continued, as she extracted the bottle from her purse and poured herself another serving. “I ‘ave to admit that I ‘aven’t got much in the way of.. oh, say.. feelings for Jack any longer. He’s just too no-nonsense and goody- two-shoes for my liking. But ‘e’s a good man, nonetheless, and I want you to know that.”

Annabelle could only stare at Beatrice. Jack? Goody-two-shoes? Did Beatrice have any inkling of how far off the mark she was with that one?

“Oh, I know all about his little career choice, dear,” Beatrice leaned in close and whispered, her grin ear to ear. “Tha’s why I married ‘im, see?”

Annabelle’s jaw dropped open. “What?”

“For the fun of it, Annabelle!” Beatrice’s whisper had grown louder and Annabelle now glanced over her shoulder nervously. She peeked around the corner of the kitchenette to find that everyone was as they’d left them except that Dylan was now staring blankly out the window and Cassie was sound asleep.

She turned back to face Beatrice. “What career, exactly, are you talking about?” Annabelle asked, just to play it safe.

“Oh, you know, the little shooty-shooty.” She made the sign of a gun with her free hand. “Bang, bang, somebody’s dead.” She laughed, taking another swig of her drink. Annabelle watched her begin to rock very slowly from side to side.

Beatrice Hughes either had the metabolism of a rabbit or was a severe lightweight. Or both.

“So, you know,” Annabelle repeated, slowly. “What he does for a living.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened and her expression became incredulous. “A living? Posh! Dear, do you have any idea how many sovs that man makes, doing what ‘e does? It’s no small potatoes, I can assure you!”

Annabelle said nothing, deciding to allow Beatrice to do all of the talking. She took another small sip of her brandy.

Beatrice’s expression became serious then and she put her drink down, turning her full attention onto Annabelle. “But the sad truth is, Annabelle, I was young. It was the shrapnel I was after, in every sense of the word. I liked the danger and I loved the money. And I never really loved Jack.”

Annabelle put down her glass. “That’s why you divorced.”

“Aye. Just after Ian was born, I told Jack ‘ow I felt.” Beatrice’s gaze slid from Annabelle’s face to stare over her shoulder at some unseen place far away and long ago. “I can remember the look on ‘is face. Jack nodded, see, and said ‘e felt the same. The divorce was finalized in two days flat.”

“What about Clara and Ian?” Annabelle asked, her tone soft, in deference to the subject matter. She was filled with curiosity. She really wanted to know more about this stage in Jack’s life.

“Jack was content to leave them with me. We’ve always known that it was risky bringing children into his world. But we loved Clara so much and then… Ian just happened.” Beatrice shrugged and picked her glass back up, finishing off its contents in one swallow. “I was on two forms of birth control at the time, too…”

She put the drink down and turned back to Annabelle. “He said ‘e’d come back whenever ‘e could to see the kids. An’ ‘e does, more or less, but they still miss ‘im.”

Annabelle felt cold, suddenly. She hugged herself and felt goose bumps lining her arms. She imagined Jack’s kids and how much they would need their father. She imagined how much Jack must need them. But he lived here, in the states, and even if he lived in England, could he ever really be with them as much as he wanted to? Would his past follow him around? Catch up to him?

Threaten his family?

“I don’t think Jack ‘as ever really loved anyone but you, Annabelle.”

Annabelle blinked. The sudden change of subject and its directness was nothing short of shocking. “Pardon?”

“Oh, please,” Beatrice had come out of her memory stupor now and was smiling again. She took the opportunity to wink at Annabelle, nudging her in the arm. “You don’t think I ‘aven’t been able to wheedle enough info out of him over the years that I know all about you now, do you?”

“He talks about me to you?”

“Why, of course, dear!” She gave Annabelle a slightly reproachful look. “I am a woman, you know. An’ I can tell certain things. That man’s been in love for nigh on ten years now. Since he met you.”

“But he’s married two other women.”

Beatrice’s brow furrowed then and she blinked. Then her eyes got wide and her mouth formed a perfect “O”. “You mean you don’t know what’s really going on with those –”

A shadow fell over them and Beatrice looked up. She immediately blanched, an expression of guilt and a touch of fear crossing her pretty features.

Annabelle spun around to find Jack towering over them, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. His blue eyes burned bright as he gazed down at Beatrice. And then the gaze slid to Annabelle and she felt the full