Free Found Wanting by Joyce Lamb Page B

when do you play video games?"
    He shrugged, grimacing in frustration as the colorful character on the TV let out a wounded sound and, wearing a pair of angel wings, drifted toward the top of the screen. "That damn turtle thing with the saw blades on its back kills me every time."
    Addison sauntered over to the coffee table and examined the CDs piled on it. The titles ranged from ominous-sounding, like Tomb Raider and Resident Evil, to themes like basketball, hockey and car racing. She imagined the games would appeal to a teenage boy.
    Her pulse took off at a clip as she studied her husband, who was intent on maneuvering the character on the TV to smash boxes to collect points. His blond hair was damp from a recent shower, and she thought he looked tired, though he seemed to have more energy at the moment than he had had in weeks. "Are you expecting a guest?" she asked.
    He didn't respond, or even glance at her.
    "Layton."
    The video game character issued another yelp, and Layton sat back, the controller in his lap. He glanced up at her, looking boyishly exasperated. "This thing is addictive."
    She was struck by how handsome he was, reminded of why she had fallen for him so many years before. The first time she'd met him -- on a visit to her father's office -- she'd wanted him. He was everything: charming, good-looking, smart. When they'd begun dating, he'd lavished flowers and gifts and compliments on her, always seeming interested in what she had to say, always fascinated by stories of her childhood. He'd shared little information about his own, but what he had said suggested that his past was desperately unhappy. His wounded soul had made him all the more attractive to her, and she'd vowed to give him a life so full, so joyful that he would forget his wretched past. Now, full and joyful were not words she would use to describe their lives together. And she was pretty sure she wasn't the only one to blame.
    Clearing her throat, conscious of the way he watched her with an expectant look on his face, she asked, "Who's the game for?"
    His expression gave away nothing. "Why can't it be for me?"
    "You don't have time for games. You rarely even have time to dine with me."
    "Maybe I'm trying to change."
    "Why now?" she asked.
    "Why not?"
    She sat beside him on the sofa. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"
    "Nothing's wrong, Addy. Everything's just great."
    She looked into his eyes and saw that he meant it. There was a light in them that hadn't been there for a long time. She wondered again why the FBI was investigating him, wondered for the millionth time what he had done with her father's company when no one had been looking.
    She took a breath. "It's been six weeks, Layton. I think we should talk about it."
    "Talk about what?"
    She sighed. "I know Daddy's will upset you."
    Getting up, he began disconnecting the game and packing it in its box. "I'm over it, Addy."
    "Are you?"
    He kept his head down, shook it. "I worked my ass off for him for sixteen years. I made PCware what it is. He didn't have vision. I did."
    She reached inside herself for sympathy and came up empty. A year ago ... hell, a week ago, she would have been on her knees beside him, commiserating her heart out. Yes, Daddy screwed you out of what you deserved. Alaina and her brat did nothing to earn a third of PCware. We'll fight it, my darling. We'll fight for every penny that should be ours. Not because she wanted it. As far as Addison was concerned, they had more than they could ever know what to do with. But because it was important to him.
    But now ... now ... she kept hearing his words: "Kill the bitch and bring the kid to me."
    What he'd said was menacing enough, but his tone had been downright chilling. At that moment, her husband had become a stranger to her. Now all she could do was comb her memory for all the things he'd done over the years, searching for clues to the man her husband really was. The search wasn't that extensive. The clues