Satisfied by how well the first part of her plan had worked, Veronique decided it was time to put the second part into motion. She picked up her medical bag, marched out the door and headed for the men.

Shasta couldn't believe what she'd heard. The doctor was deliberately luring a woman named Christy to the camp. A woman who, based on what she'd heard Dr. V say, cared enough about Anthony to believe that he'd specifically asked for her. Wasn't Christy the name of the woman Anthony had everyone looking for? She walked to the door and cracked it open, hoping she'd be able to hear what the doctor was going to say to the men as she approached them with long, confident strides. Lucky for Shasta it was a quiet night; not even a cricket was chirping. She watched Veronique place a hand on her hip and address the men in a loud, crisp voice.

"I got the strangest phone call when I was inside," she said to no one in particular.

"From who?" Andrew asked, his voice slightly slurred.

"I don't know. But they said Anthony wanted a message delivered to any of his men who were hanging around."

"What message would that be?" another man asked.

"Well, it's a little cryptic, but I'm sure you guys will know what it means." She moved her medical bag from one hand to the other before continuing. "The man who called said Anthony is sending you a special delivery. I'm not sure what it is, but he specifically said it's something Anthony no longer has a use for. It belongs to you now, and when you're finished with it, he wants to make sure there's no evidence that it was ever here. He also said to make sure it's cleaned up, whatever that means, sooner than later."

Another man, who looked to be a little older and more hardened than the rest sat up in his chair and asked, "What kind of delivery?"

She shook her head. "The guy didn't say. He said you guys would know it when you saw it." She smiled then and said, "The infirmary has been restocked so since I'm not needed, I'll be heading out."

She walked away then and stopped. She swung around and looked at each man's face before adding, "Oh, I almost forgot. He said to 'look for the white rabbit.’" She laughed then and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess that's some kind of biker code thing that you're supposed to know."

She climbed into her car and drove away satisfied that she’d pulled off the perfect crime. The derelicts that she’d spoken to would certainly rape, torture and murder Anthony’s underage Barbie doll. Christy would never have the chance to tell Anthony about Veronique’s visit to his house. And if the men were leaving the camp tonight like she'd heard one mention, Anthony would never know what became of his precious Christy. Envisioning the porcelain-skinned blonde with the big blue eyes fueled Veronique’s rage. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as she tried to tamp down her rage.

She knew Anthony was a dangerous man, but she didn’t get to be where she was without having a high level of intelligence. She could certainly outsmart a criminal. He may have had the brawn, but she was the one with the brains. She didn’t know what mocked her more. The fact that Anthony didn’t seem to be bothered by her rejection months ago, not once trying to see her, or the fact that she’d been replaced with a teenage blonde midget who obviously didn’t have an ounce of class or intelligence and drove a ridiculous vehicle. Where had he found her? Cheerleading camp?

She forced herself to take a calming breath and smiled. If those lowlife miscreants didn’t leave tonight and were stupid enough to thank Anthony for his present telling him about the message Veronique passed on, she had a foolproof alibi. That wrong number couldn’t have been more perfectly timed. All she would have to say in her defense was that she answered a phone call and spoke to a man whose voice she didn’t recognize. And if Anthony didn’t believe her, he could use his contacts to have the call traced. A call that would be linked back to the poor sap who’d been looking for a woman named Judy who worked for a dry cleaner. Anthony would probably have the guy tortured to death. Her plan was brilliant and flawless.

She leaned her head back and allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. In two days, she would be on a plane heading for Bermuda. It was a vacation she’d planned for over a year, and she couldn’t wait to soak up the sun while sipping margaritas on the white sandy beaches of her favorite resort. She would be gone for a whole month. She would take a lover when she got there and bask not just in the Bermuda sun, but in the knowledge that she had ruined any chance Anthony Bear may have had at happiness with another woman.

“There’s an old adage that talks about the fury of a woman who’s been scorned,” she said out loud. “And you, Anthony Bear, have scorned the wrong woman."