Tread Softly by Ann Cristy Page B

was hosting a party of call
girls and other congressmen—if you're referring to the write up in The Tattler
with pictures of said congressman frolicking in his father's pool with a
cheesecake blonde and that both were nude—if that's what you mean, Bruno, then
speak up and don't worry about me. I know most of the details." Cady
sensed that Rafe had kept his eyes on her profile from the moment she began to
speak. She knew he didn't see Bruno bare his teeth at her in rage.
    "All
right, Cady, so you know what can be done to defeat Rafe's reelection,"
Bruno growled softly. "Are you going to let some bleeding hearts destroy
your husband's future when with just a little cooperation, he could win?"
    "Shut
up, Bruno, and don't try to coerce Cady. I won't allow it. If Greeley tries to
heat up those old ashes, I'll leak to the press that it was Greeley himself and
his boys who hired those women to descend on Durra. What do you think people
will think of that sort of thing? I'll tell the world that this is the way Mr.
Greeley does business. Do you think it will do Emmett's name any good to be
linked to a gigantic call girl ring, with his friend Mr. Greeley as
procurer?"
    "You
don't know what you're taking about," Bruno snarled at the same time that
Rafe moved from Cady's side toward his father's aide.
    "Don't I?" Rafe looked from Bruno to Cady, the
flicker deep in those blue eyes telling her how painful this was for him. He
grabbed Bruno's shirt front. Then, like a flash, he looked back at Cady.
"How the hell do you know so much about this?"
    Cady thought her smile must make her look as if she'd
sucked a lemon. "There were more than enough people on the Hill willing to
tell me all about my rakish husband and his high-flying days after his first
election. Most of them put it down to your being just another one of those wild
Densmores—bright, but wild," Cady finished, her throat feeling tight.
    "Cady, for God's sake..." Rafe began, turning his
back on Bruno.
    "And"—Cady
lifted her left hand palm outward as though to forestall his words—"I also
was made very aware that it was one of those parties you were heading toward
when the plane crashed on the way to Durra. I can't tell you how many kind
people came forward to inform me what a real good-time Charlie I had
married," she concluded, sarcasm in her voice as she fought to keep the
searing pain from showing.
    "Cady, I
swear to you—" Rafe began hoarsely.
    "For
goodness sake, don't perjure yourself, Rafe," Cady said, gulping.
    "Cady,
listen to me—" he barked.
    Bruno's
laugh bellowed into the room. "I guess you can't fool the missus,
Rafe."
    Rafe
turned and swung at the same time, his right fist catching Bruno on the point
of his jaw, the crunch of bone against bone a sickening sound.
    Bruno
was strong and thickset, but he reeled back against the filing cabinet, his
head snapping back. "Why, you..." he rasped, putting his hands up
like a street fighter, ready to come at Rafe.
    "Come
on, Bruno. Do it. There's nothing I want more than to pull you apart,"
Rafe vowed thickly, his body curving in menace, obviously with no regard for
his physical welfare.
    "Stay and
fight, but let me out of here," Cady said, her voice shrill as she pushed
at Rafe in an effort to get past him. "And.. .and don't you dare have a
relapse from fighting," she choked.
    "Cady,
don't. Wait for me. We have to talk," Rafe insisted, his attention
focusing on her again.
    "No, I'm
leaving. Stay away from me." Cady didn't look at Bruno again as she
stumbled from the room.
    She heard the low
voices and knew Rafe was saying something to Bruno, but she was too busy
running to care. An elevator was standing open and she jumped into it, punching
the button for the lobby.
    When
she ran down the steps of the office building, a taxi was just discharging a
passenger. She hailed it and told the cabbie to drive to Virginia.
    She
leaned back against the upholstery of the taxi cab, pressing her fingertips
into her eyes. Why had she