Читать книгу Dangerous Obsession - Jessica R. Patch - Страница 13
ОглавлениеI’ve missed you. When you visit the one you love, you’ll see how much I love you, too.
Cosette LaCroix’s hands trembled and she dropped the card with the typed note inside on the café table. It had been three years and she’d finally stopped looking over her shoulder, waiting for Jeffrey Levitts—her former boyfriend and boss in Washington, DC—to appear. But he’d found her. And she knew exactly what this note meant. She darted a glance out the large café windows and searched the sidewalks. Was he out there lurking? She shivered, suddenly feeling watched.
“Hey!” Wilder Flynn’s husky, deep voice boomed.
Cosette startled and fumbled to shove the card inside the envelope and appear calm. Collected. Her present boss couldn’t know about Jeffrey—that she’d been in a relationship with a narcissistic monster. Her job was to spot these people. To help other women escape them. Not fall into the same trap. Not to mention Wilder didn’t know she’d taken the job at Covenant Crisis Management three years ago to escape Jeffrey. Who better to find safety with than a security specialist? She was supposed to be one herself!
Clearing her throat, she masked the sheer terror sending her heart into arrhythmia. “What?” she barked and balled her fist in her lap to conceal the tremors.
He cocked his head, studied her and frowned. “Amy said you took the last of the cascara syrup. I was set on a cascara latte. It’s been a rough morning.”
“Couldn’t find any matching socks?” Cosette smirked, but inside she was drowning. She peeked out the window again, watching downtown Atlanta in action and hoping Jeffrey wasn’t out there. “Tell Aurora to order more syrup.” Aurora Marsh had opened Sufficient Grounds 2.0 a year ago, after her first coffee café had burned down, when she’d lived in Hope, Tennessee. Cosette loved the atmosphere here. Wilder loved the free coffee and free use of the conference center to meet with clients and colleagues on occasion, which must be why he was here.
“Matching socks have nothing to do with it. I’m trying to figure out what to do with the apartment upstairs now that you’ve moved out—which I still think is ridiculous.” He pouted like a child, not a six-foot-three former Navy SEAL who ran a world renowned private security company. Wilder collapsed in the chair across from her, his ebony hair falling over his eyebrows. He didn’t keep a military cut like most soldiers. Probably because one of his best features was his thick, luxurious locks. It was shaggy, but not like a kid who needed a haircut. More like a hair model. She’d love to run her hands—
“Stop staring at my hair and focus.” Teasing played in his voice.
“I’m not staring.” But taking her mind off what was lying on the table helped bring calm to her jittery insides. Nothing helped the feeling that malicious eyes might right now be spying on her, though.
He gave her a pointed look. Okay, she was staring. Wilder was a sight to behold, but she’d given up on men for good after Jeffrey. Men in her life abused and manipulated, all the way back to her father, who was rotting in a New Orleans prison this very moment. Right where he belonged. The thought brought her back to the card, and her stomach knotted.
“What’s going on with you?” Wilder asked, his usual charm replaced with concern. Great. She thought she’d done a better job hiding it.
“Nothing,” she managed.
“Look at me.” Wilder waited and she inhaled, then slowly shifted her gaze to his emerald greens canopied by dark lashes. He peered into her eyes until she squirmed in her seat. It felt like a year passed with him just staring at her, searching for truth, assessing. “You’re lying to me,” he murmured.
She didn’t want to. “I’m not.” He was going to push until she squealed. That was his way, which wasn’t fair. Wilder was sealed tighter than his weapons’ cage at CCM. He would never take the hourly couch sessions she required from all team members. Never talked about his sister Meghan’s murder—and it had been several years since she’d been killed by a stalker. Cosette felt the blood drain from her face in a whoosh.
“Yes, you are, Cosette. You’re looking me right in the eye and lying your face off.” His inhalation was sharp and he pushed back in his chair. “But I guess we’re all entitled to secrets. I just don’t like ones that bleach your face and make you fidgety and paranoid.”
She didn’t like keeping secrets from Wilder, but she would have to admit she’d originally accepted the job to hide. From a stalker! Admit she’d failed professionally...and personally. “I, um...I got an invitation to my fifteenth high school reunion.” One truth she could reveal.
How did Jeffrey know her PO box number? She never used her physical address.
“Really? That’s what’s got your pants in a wrinkle?” The black-as-night scruff that covered Wilder’s chin, cheeks and neck hid a face that was too boyish to be thirty-three, but it didn’t hide the fact he wasn’t buying her weak excuse.
No, that wasn’t what had her in a mood; she wasn’t going. While Jeffrey had been the most humiliating “relationship” of her life, since she ought to have seen the signs—she was a behavioral expert!—it wasn’t her only disastrous or toxic romance. With an abusive father came all the baggage. And as a teenage girl, she’d wanted approval, acceptance and love. She’d been like a starving dog, happy to eat scraps. It had led to many rotten boys. She would no more step foot at that reunion, where people knew her indiscretions, her poor family history, than—
“Are you going?” Wilder was holding her postcard-style invitation in his hand, pointing to the Plus-One. “It’s this weekend.”
She always visited Mama’s grave on Mother’s Day. That was next Sunday. But Jeffrey had left something there for her and he’d be expecting her to come retrieve it—or he might be baiting her. If she used the reunion as a cover, she could go early and still pay Mama her respects, as well as change the flowers on her grave.
“If I can have the weekend, including Friday, off.” Working in the security industry meant her weekends were often tied up on the job.
“You want both weekends off?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No, I’ll just visit my mama’s grave this Sunday.”
Wilder’s lips corkscrewed and his eyes narrowed. “What’s the real deal with you, Cosette?” He folded his arms and pinned her with a glare. This man!
“Nothing. I just... I need this weekend.”
“And a Plus-One.” He held up the invitation again and pointed to it.
She groaned. “I don’t need a man.”
Men were nothing but trouble. Possessive. Demanding.
A lopsided grin spread. “Well, what about a chicory coffee? Because I need that cascara latte.”
She wasn’t immune to Wilder’s ways. His charm was like a weapon he wielded with ease and perfection, always hitting his intended target. But she was wise to it and right now, he wanted her to relax so she’d spill the truth. Also, he did want her latte. That much she would give in to.
She slid him the coffee. “I have lipstick marks on it.”
“Red.” He didn’t bother to wipe the stains away before he sipped the drink. “My favorite.” The way he said it—the action itself—did strange things to her belly. No. Way. Wilder was a gorgeous man, honest and caring, but there were too many reasons she refused to entertain romantic ideas about him. He had a few traits that kept her at bay, like his obsessive tendencies and his need to control, plus he was her boss, and if that wasn’t enough, he was emotionally unavailable. Besides, she wasn’t going to be another man’s possession ever again. “When do we leave Friday?” he asked.
“There is no ‘we’—only me.” The last thing she needed was Wilder forcing her to attend the reunion and discovering what a needy, clingy and starved-for-love girl Cosette had been—might still be. “And if you’re going to drink my latte, the least you can do is go order my chicory coffee.” She shooed him away with her hand. She needed air. A minute to think without him hovering.
His massive frame lifted from the chair and he swaggered to the counter, his trendy jeans fitting snugly and his white dress shirt stretching across his back.
Should she even go to New Orleans at all? She didn’t care that Jeffrey had left her something at the grave—no, she did. It angered her that he would infringe on her private place where she honored her mother. He’d desecrated it. And he wasn’t going to keep her from going to Mama like she did every year.
“Here’s your coffee with chicory, Miss LaCroix.” Amy grinned and set it on the table. “Mr. Flynn had a phone call. Said to deliver it to you in person because...” her cheeks turned pink “...you were too lazy to walk to the counter and get it yourself. I think he was teasing, though.”
Cosette rolled her eyes and darted one last peek out the window, trying not to shiver again. “Thanks, Amy. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Cosette?” Amy had been dating their computer analyst for almost five months. By now, they should be on a first name basis. She motioned to Wilder’s empty chair. “Have a seat if you have a sec.” She could use a distraction from the card, from the feeling of eyes on her, from Wilder.
Amy sat across from her, a dreamy grin on her face.
“Thinking of Wheezer?” Cosette asked. She knew that lovesick look.
“We’re going ice-skating tonight at the indoor rink.”
Wheezer didn’t seem like the skating type. It was nice to see Amy bringing him out of his shell and the control room at CCM. He lived on computers and was a cyber genius. The things he could do with a computer were scary.
“That sounds fun. You ready to be done with school for the summer? Any big plans?”
Amy shook her head. “I’m spending it with my mom.”
“That’s great.” Cosette’s heart pinched. She’d give anything to go on a summer trip with her mom. To hug her or even hold her hand just one more time. “Enjoy the time you have. It’s precious.” And fleeting. If Mama had listened to Cosette and left Dad, she’d still be alive. But she was the textbook case of an abused wife. Cosette’s training and begging hadn’t been enough to save her—to convince her she could walk away.
Her phone rang. Her dad’s lawyer calling again. She ignored every single one. She didn’t care what he had to say. The phone beeped notifying her that she had a voice mail. She promptly deleted it without listening, as she had all of them in the past few months. She’d never forgive her father for what he’d done. Never betray her mother in that way.
The scripture that encouraged loving and forgiving your enemies needled her, but she ignored it.
Sorry, Lord, this one is too hard.
Wilder returned and Amy stood. “Back to work.”
He reclaimed his uninvited spot. “Okay, what time are we leaving Friday?”
Cosette snorted and sifted through a few ads, folding the ones she wanted and tucking them into her purse. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“Other than the crew coming out to go Karate Kid on the house, I’m dead-free.”
“Painters or they’re kicking it down?”
Wilder didn’t bother to answer. He checked his phone. Sent a text. “Time?”
He wasn’t going to let it go. Why wasn’t he going to let it go?
Because she was a terrible liar. She knew all the tricks and she still stank at it. She was a fraud through and through, and Wilder was onto her. His intuition was practically perfect. Like some kind of otherworldly power. Probably what kept him alive on so many tours and SEAL missions. Too bad her intuition wasn’t that spot-on. She might never have been involved with Jeffrey—or numerous others before him.
The more she protested, the worse it would become. Wilder’s obsessive tendencies wouldn’t allow him to let up. But he wasn’t a sociopath or a narcissist. Actually, he was the only man she felt truly, completely safe with—physically. She didn’t trust her heart to anyone but herself these days. No getting out of this. Looked like she was stuck attending the reunion.
“Do we fly or drive?” she asked.
“Do we want to get there in less than two hours or less than seven?”
She didn’t want to get there at all. But if she was going to visit Mama’s grave, this was her sliver of opportunity. “Less than two. I’ll book a flight. Festivities start at seven.”
Wilder stood and lightly brushed her shoulder as he leaned down. “Wear your dancin’ shoes, darlin’,” he murmured, drawing out the endearment like he always did in a soft, Southern purr, then he left the café. She rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms.
This was a stupid and dangerous idea on so many levels.
* * *
Wilder didn’t believe a word that came out of the French Cajun’s mouth. A very kissable mouth coated in cherry red. Something in that stack of mail the other day had wigged her out and in the three years Wilder had known Cosette, very little scared her. He admired that—her strength and bravery. Her cool head and soothing voice, unless she had her dander up and then she’d go to town jabbering in French Cajun—not one word understandable, but he sure enjoyed watching it. Enjoyed watching her in general. Graceful. Poised. That long, brunette hair wavy and wild down her back. But that’s all he could do—admire and appreciate.
He didn’t date team members. But that wasn’t the main reason he couldn’t pursue his attraction to her. An attraction that had almost kept him from hiring her altogether. In that initial interview, there had been desperation in her eyes—like that of a wounded animal, horror-struck and terrified. Like she needed to come under his sheltering wings. So he’d said yes. Her credentials were top-shelf, but the pull toward her...that was visceral and scary. Wilder didn’t have the luxury of falling in love.
He had his people to protect and lead.
Clients who needed his attention.
And mostly, if he gave his heart away, he’d have to give it all, which meant transparency and honesty about his past. That was something he wasn’t willing to give. If Cosette knew the deep secrets he harbored, she’d lose all respect for him. All trust. That terrified him more than his attraction to her. So he kept her at arm’s length. But it wasn’t easy. And this weekend was a dumb idea, but something had her rattled and she’d barely spoken on the flight to New Orleans. Not taking two weekends off sent a red flag flying; she’d made sure she was at her mother’s grave every Mother’s Day since she’d taken the job. Had noted in her interview that it was important to her. She’d rather go to her reunion and swing by the gravesite a week early? Nope. He hadn’t bought it. Too bad he hadn’t gotten his hands on her mail. Federal offense, but Wilder wasn’t above crossing lines if it meant protecting the people he cared about.
She’d said to meet him in the hotel lobby at six. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and headed that way. She sat on a bar stool drinking a soda and looking absolutely stunning. Glad not to be wearing a tie, he felt choked already. He leaned against the bar and tapped her shoulder, startling her. Her head was somewhere else. Fear coursed through those coffee-bean-colored eyes. Her smile didn’t reach them.
But he’d let it go. For now.
“You ready, Miss LaCroix?” He extended his elbow and she accepted and slid off the stool, reaching him at chin-level in her sleek red heels. “You look incredible.”
She snorted and adjusted her snug but not too revealing dress. “Puh-leeze.”
Cosette wasn’t what he’d call model thin, but then he thought those women needed a roast beef sandwich. He liked her curves.
They drove to a nearby park. The pavilion had been decorated in strands of twinkling white lights and a live band played. Cosette opted out of name tags. Newspaper stretched across a long table and mounds of crawfish, corn on the cob, shrimp and baby potatoes spilled from one end to the other. Wilder’s mouth watered.
Cosette filled her plate, but she wasn’t herself. Nervous. Fidgety. Distracted. Head down, making zero eye contact with people.
Wilder didn’t like it. Didn’t like that worry and fear in her eyes. He scanned the scene. Booze flowed and smoke drifted on the warm Southern air. His instincts went on high alert. Something eerie wafted with the laughter and Cajun spices.
“You want to sit over at that picnic table?” he asked.
“Sure.”
A few women stopped her and chatted. Typical female jest. They grinned, but sized one another up. Who’d gained more weight? Who had the better job? The better man? As if it wasn’t obvious. He was a man and could see it. Women. Wilder shook his head, but smiled as Cosette introduced him.
They gawked at his hair.
He ought to cut it. But he had to admit—to himself and no one else alive—he loved his hair. No reason. Just did.
They moseyed to the table as the New Orleans jazz band played. People whirled on the gazebo dance floor. But Cosette was not into this night. “So how bad did you hate high school?” he asked.
She pinched the mudbug and sucked the juice out, then went to work on the tail like a pro. That was one thing Wilder could not do. “Bad,” she said and dived into another one. “But I worked my behind off so I could get scholarships for college. Get educated...get out.”
“Why are you here then?” Maybe he’d get to the truth. Probably not. Cosette was working pitifully hard to conceal something. She wasn’t bound to crack anytime soon, and ribbing her would only prolong it. And yet he couldn’t help himself. The deep desire to know, to protect, to fix whatever ailed her nagged him half to death.
“I miss the music.”
“Pandora station right there on your phone.”
“I like my music live.”
“Buy a live album.”
She scowled and ignored his remark. He peeled his shrimp and ate. Spicy enough to open his sinuses.
Several more former students made their way to the table and chatted with Cosette. Every time, she seemed afraid, and she never stopped scanning the woods, the crowds. Finally, after eating a piece of key lime pie, she excused herself to the restroom, and Wilder went straight for the cherry crisp. She hadn’t returned by the time he’d eaten that and drunk a cup of punch, so he strode toward the restrooms and caught a blonde coming out.
“Have you seen Cosette? Cosette LaCroix?” Something was wrong, burning his gut like acid, and it wasn’t the Cajun food.
“She’s not in there.” A sly grin slid across the woman’s face. “I think I saw her talking to Beau Chauvert earlier. She may have slipped off with him. Old Beau—in many ways. But she’d be crazy to go with him. Not with a man like you at her side.”
Wilder wanted to say “Go home, lady, you’re drunk.” But she’d probably think it was full of innuendo. “Thanks,” he said instead and darted behind the restrooms. Where could she be? He knew Cosette well enough to know she wouldn’t slip into the dark with any man willingly.
* * *
“Beau! Let go of me!” Cosette hollered as her high school boyfriend hauled her farther into the woods. She clawed at his beefy arms, sickened at his booze-laced breath.
“I just wanted to talk to you. To dance. I’ve missed you.”
Her blood froze. The first line in the note she’d received... Did she have it all wrong? Had Beau sent the card?
“But you don’t want to talk. Or dance with the likes of me. I’m not good enough for you now.” He shoved her against a tree. “I used to be very good for you.”
Cosette’s stomach roiled and the bark dug into the thin fabric of her dress.
“You are lookin’ so fine. Little thicker than I remember, but I’m not complaining.”
“Beau,” she said, trying to remain calm. To see him as a hostile patient. “You’re drunk. Why don’t you sleep it off, and we can talk tomorrow when you’re sober. I’m in town a couple more days.” But she wouldn’t be seeing him, that was for sure.
He released his grip and she stepped away from the tree, her heart racing. She slowly backed out of the woods.
Beau stepped forward and grabbed her forearm. She’d have bruising tomorrow. “You think you’re all uppity now? I know what you really are.”
Brush and twigs snapped.
Cosette would recognize the imposing figure a mile away.
“You have less than a second to take your hands off her,” Wilder said, his voice low and menacing. The man could be boyish and charming, and in an instant, menacing and terrifying. It sent a zing into her middle.
Beau was a bully. This wouldn’t end well—for Beau.
“And just what are you gonna do about it?” he spat, spittle landing in dots on Cosette’s neck.
In a blink, Wilder had inserted himself between the two of them. He faced Beau, put his palm flush against Cosette’s belly and guided her behind him, leaving his hand resting against her. The feel of his warmth seeping through the fabric of her dress brought her comfort as well as butterflies.
“When I was in fourth grade, two sixth grade bullies would take my milk money. Every. Single. Day.”
Where in the world was this going?
“You know what I did about it?”
Uh-oh.
“Nothing.”
Beau chuckled. “And you’re gonna do nothin’ about this, either. This is between me and my old lady.”
Wilder’s face appeared relaxed, except for that one little tick in his jaw when Beau called her his. She wasn’t his. She belonged to nobody but herself.
Wilder cocked his head, pressed his hand more firmly into her belly as he guided her another step back. “The reason I did nothing wasn’t out of fear. I didn’t care because...I just don’t like milk.”
“Wilder,” Cosette whispered. Now was not the time for one of his many anecdotes.
“But then they started bullying the milk money from my sister Meghan, and Meghan loved her chocolate milk. Every day at one fifteen. So I had to get involved. Because she was my baby sister and I cared about her.”
Uh-oh. His voice had changed. Become deeper. Sinister. He was going to—
He wrenched Beau’s arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into a tree. Beau cried out. “Now, if I apply just a bit more pressure—” Wilder said.
Beau cried out again.
“—your elbow’s gonna break. It’s excruciating. Or you can apologize to the lady—who doesn’t belong to you and is far from old—and not only leave the area but the event. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Beau nodded profusely.
By now, a small crowd had gathered. Cosette’s cheeks heated.
“And don’t drive drunk.” He let up on Beau. Beau turned and swung.
Wilder grabbed his fist and put him on the ground, then planted his foot on Beau’s back like a weight. “Can one of you spectators come take this jerk home before he gets himself killed?”
Not that Wilder would kill him. But he was furious. A cold and quiet kind of fury. She’d seen it before. Much more frightening than someone blowing a gasket.
One of Beau’s old buddies stepped up. “I—I can.”
Wilder raked his hand through his hair and put his arm around Cosette. “Let’s go buy a red velvet cake and two forks.” He said it as if he hadn’t just been involved in an altercation.
“That’s my favorite cake,” she said and leaned into him as they blew past her gaping classmates, loathing herself for resting in his strength and comfort. She didn’t want to need him or have these feelings stirring inside her. Wilder gave her security, and if she lapped it up, she’d be a lost puppy. Nope. Not happening. Time to get a handle on her feelings ASAP.
“I know.” He led her to the parking lot as crickets chirped. Music continued to play in the distance, and her heart thumped to a beat she refused to register.
Wilder opened the car door for her, but blocked her from getting inside. “I don’t understand. If this guy scares you so bad, why did you bother to come? You’ve barely spoken to anyone. And did you really date that mule?”
Cosette hung her head, humiliation and shame flushing her face. If he thought Beau was bad, he’d really look down on her for Jeffrey.
Wilder tipped up her chin. “Hey, look at me... We all have exes from our teenage years we wish we didn’t. But you could have done so much better.”
Back then, she didn’t believe that. And now? Now she just wanted to be alone even if it was lonely.
He brushed his thumb across her jawline. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m fine.” Now. Thanks to Wilder.
“He won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of that.”
Cosette believed him. But what about the real threat out there? The cunning and manipulative man who lurked in the shadows and hid behind his PhD? Or was Beau the real threat? If he wasn’t the original danger, after the humiliation, he would be one now. The thought hung over her like a thick blanket of cold darkness and she shivered.
“Is there anything else I need to know, Cosette?”
He must be getting that superhero hunch. She swallowed the truth, choking on it. “No. No, I’m fine.”
For now.
* * *
“Do you want me to come with you?” Wilder asked.
Cosette gripped the door handle of the rental car and stared out at the sea of tombstones marking the lives of loved ones. “No.” She did this alone every year. She’d never feared coming, though. Until now. “I know some people would say that she’s not there—not really. And I know that. She’s in heaven with Jesus. But it comforts me to come. To talk to her as if she’s alive. To clean up the weeds and replace the flowers. I’ve—I’ve even brought a blanket before and spent a whole afternoon.”
“Would you like to do that now? I can come back for—”
“No!” She choked down the fear. Jeffrey might be out here, hidden in the woods, watching and waiting. Or Beau. With no car, no Wilder... She couldn’t risk being stranded. And that’s how she felt. Stranded. Alone. Hedged in. She forced a pleasant expression. “I mean...no, thanks.”
The lines in Wilder’s brow deepened and he searched the cemetery as if scanning for threats. “I’ll be here. Stay as long as you like. I have a book.”
“You’re reading a book?” She bit down on her lip and smirked. “I mean, I’m not implying...” She sighed. Wilder was well-educated, he just didn’t like much fiction. Most military suspense wasn’t believable, according to him. “I—”
“How about I pull you up out of that gigantic hole you just dug?” His grin lit up and warmed a few dark and empty places within her. “It’s by a former SEAL. Not rocket science.” He tugged a strand of her hair. “Go on. Go talk to your mama.”
“Thank you, Wilder. For everything. Even the cake, though I certainly don’t need it.” She was five-eight and wore size twelve. “Hippie chick” brought a whole new meaning when coupled with her. In today’s society, she’d be a plus-size model! Okay, enough self-hatred over weight. She had other things to hate herself for that were far worse.
“Cake looks good on you.” He held up his book and motioned with his chin for her to get going.
She exited the vehicle and weaved slowly through the cemetery. Memories of her and Mama cooking, baking, shopping, sunbathing, filled her mind. Cosette missed her so. If only she would have left for safety’s sake.
He loves me, Cosie.
You don’t know him. He doesn’t mean to do it.
He’s sorry. Really. Deep down he’s a good man.
He’s had a terrible life. If you only knew...
One excuse after another to defend Dad. Cosette wiped a tear and stood before Mama’s grave. She clasped her throat. Someone had already replaced the old flowers with a bouquet of white tulips. Cosette dropped to her knees and yanked them out of the vase. Jeffrey would not get this pleasure.
Then she saw a small black velvet box buried in the weeds. Her lungs turned to brick.
Hands trembling, she picked up the box and opened it. Inside were a pair of pink tourmaline earrings. Round. Simple. Cosette scanned the secluded cemetery, finding its hallowedness and peacefulness gone. Jeffrey had ruined this. She hung her head and sobbed, fear rising in her throat and leaving her dizzy and angry...so angry that he would do this. Wreck this one place she held dear. That’s when she saw the slip of paper.
She wiped her eyes and removed it from the box.
I’ll always love you.
Would she ever be rid of this man? Why would he come back after two years of being quiet? It wasn’t like she’d used cash or changed her name. She’d blocked him from her cell phone, but she hadn’t changed the number; her patients might need her, and she wanted to be available to each one of them.
If he’d hired a PI, it wouldn’t have taken this long to track her to Atlanta. Something must have triggered him. She wadded up the note and dropped the earrings in her purse.
Lord, I know You’re probably not listening much to me, since I’m unwilling to forgive my dad—You know where I stand on that. But please, please don’t let this turn into what it was in Washington. Please!
She searched the tree line. Had she evaded his trap by coming early? If he was in Atlanta, following her, wouldn’t he know she’d left for the airport two days ago?
“Sorry to cut things short, Mama, but I’m in real trouble here and I’m scared.” Scared she’d end up lying right next to her. Because Cosette would never surrender to Jeffrey and it would eventually bring him to a vengeful state. He’d try to kill her before it was over. And if Beau had decided to come after her...she was in a heap of trouble.
“I love you, Mama, but I gotta go.” She kissed her fingertips and placed them on Mama’s headstone, then scurried back to the car.
Wilder scowled. “I’ve read maybe ten pages and I’m not a slow reader. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m ready to go.”
A dark eyebrow arched and he held her gaze a beat longer than she liked, but then he motioned to the passenger seat. “We have time to kill before we have to be at the airport. You hungry?” he asked.
Not even a little bit. “Sure.”
They chose a restaurant near the airport.
Inside, at their table, he said, “When Caley was about six, she climbed a tree. She’d watched me and Meghan do it earlier. Mama told her not to. But hey, she was six and had something to prove.”
Good grief. Another anecdote.
“But she fell and skinned her knee and bloodied her nose. You picking up what I’m putting down?”
“Stay out of trees?”
He huffed. “If you keep trying to hide whatever’s got you scared...you’ll end up bloodied. Don’t wreck that pretty face by falling on it.”
He wasn’t far from the truth. She might very well end up exactly as he said. She didn’t want to run again, and anyway, where would she go? She was safest with Wilder. Not telling him might get him hurt. But she wasn’t sure what scared her most: admitting the truth, Beau Chauvert or Jeffrey Levitts.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. I don’t like it. I probably won’t keep quiet for long. But right now, you can eat in peace. Talk about something else.”
“Are you letting it slide because you know I’ll expect you to reciprocate and give me therapy time? Fair is fair, after all.”
“Nothing about life is fair, Cosette.” Wilder ran his finger down the menu, browsing. “And the difference is I don’t need to talk. I’m not scared. You most definitely are, which means there’s a threat out there. I can make that go away for you.”
“What happened to eating in peace?” She couldn’t even concentrate on the menu. Nothing appealed to her stomach, but when the server returned she ordered the salmon and jasmine rice.
“I also said I probably wouldn’t keep quiet for long.” His playful smirk loosened some of the nerves bundled in her chest and she breathed deep. Decided to switch subjects.
“I do want to talk to you about one thing.” It had been on her mind for the past few months. “Equine therapy.”
“I don’t want to lay on your couch and blabber, and I don’t want to ride horses to soothe my soul. I’m solid.”
Cosette unrolled her silverware and placed the linen napkin in her lap. “I’m talking about reconstructing and expanding that stable on the plantation, putting up fencing and opening an equine therapy practice. I’d get a loan and take care of the costs, and pay you rent, of course.”
“I don’t know, Cosette. People trying to heal on the same property as people who are in serious trouble sometimes... That might put them at risk.”
“I’ve thought of that, but we rarely have serious risks, and it’s far enough from the main house. I could even add an office area off the stables for more privacy, and have a road paved so clients could bypass the main house altogether... And if something dangerous is happening then I can cancel.”
“Five months ago, a sniper tried to take out Evan. He shot through the guest bedroom window. We didn’t know it was dangerous until it was. Remember that?”
Yes, she’d been at the clinic where she worked part-time when that happened. “Wilder, please consider it. I’ve written up a proposal and I’ll give you some information to help you understand how important this is. Patients are making great strides with this kind of therapy and the plantation is such a peaceful and lovely place.”
“Yet you moved out.”
Cosette finally felt like Jeffrey’s reign of terror had ended and she was safe. Now with Jody moved out, since she and Evan were married, it was odd living upstairs while Wilder lived downstairs. “Just think about it. I’ll give you the information when we get back into town.”
“Fine.”
The drive and boarding the plane were relatively quiet between them. Cosette pretended to read on the flight, but her mind was a muddied mess. What would come next? By the time they landed and retrieved their baggage, it was late. Wilder drove to her apartment, brooding. He pulled up in a visitor parking space. “You want me to come in?”
“Why would I want that?” Yes!
He gripped the steering wheel and sighed. “I guess I don’t know.” He hauled her bags to her door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes. Good. Okay.” She unlocked her door and Wilder gently grasped her arm.
“Cosette, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
“And you can tell me anything but you never do.” This man needed to open up. To talk out his feelings. Bottled up emotions eventually blew. With everything he’d seen being a SEAL, and his job, and the death of his sister, there was plenty for Wilder to discuss, to air out. Why wouldn’t he trust her?
“Anything... Okay, I’ll tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone.”
Finally.
“I’m vain about my hair. I know I’m a soldier and, you know, a legit tough guy...but I just like my hair.” He grinned, all charming like. It almost worked. She felt the smile forming deep in her heart, but caught it before it reached her lips.
“Well, yippee skippy, you’re vain. You’ve failed miserably at keeping that a secret. Everybody already knows it.” She rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. Wilder was far from vain, but it was obvious he cared about his hair. Though he didn’t flip it around or mess with it much... Well, he did comb his hands through it often. She assumed that was an anxious habit, or frustration. Maybe he just liked the feel.
“I’ll come up with something better tomorrow,” he deadpanned and flashed a commercial-worthy grin. But she was going into a dark and empty home—one she hoped was empty—so the grin fell flat.
“You do that.” Before he could respond, she hurried inside. Not that she wanted to be there, but she didn’t want to spar with Wilder—not when he was all flirty and enamoring. She was at war for her life with a stalker. She didn’t need to be at war for her heart with her boss. A cold chill swept up her spine. It’s fine. She was fine. Cosette flipped on a light. Nothing out of place. She rolled her bag into her bedroom.
She needed a long hot bath and a good night’s sleep.
Creak!
Cosette’s muscles locked up and her heart skittered into her throat.
She was hearing things. No one was in her house.
Blood pulsed in her ears, making a whooshing noise like a ceiling fan. It hurt to breathe. She listened. Nothing.
Letting out a relieved breath, she reached for the light switch.
Something rustled in her closet.
Her hand froze on the switch. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t flip on the light. Couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, the closet door burst open and a figure charged through the darkness, knocking her into the chest of drawers and sending her crashing to the floor as he exited her bedroom. She lay there in terror, unable to form a coherent thought. But she couldn’t lie here all night. Where did he go? Would he be back? She forced clarity to come, and after a moment, gasped and flipped on the light, while pain throbbed in her shoulder.
Her vanity stool had been knocked over, as if the dark-clad figure had tripped, hurrying to the closet to conceal himself before being caught red-handed. But doing what? She slowly searched her bedroom, her heart racing like a meteor. Her makeup was out of place. Something drew her attention to the mirror, and she clasped her burning throat. Drawn in lipstick on her vanity mirror was a huge heart.
Invisible creepy-crawlers skittered across her skin.
“Hey.”
Cosette screamed and grabbed the vase on her dresser, spinning to face her attacker.
Wilder held his palms up, gun in one hand. “Hey,” he repeated softly, soothingly. “It’s just me.” He inched toward her and slowly removed the vase from her grasp. “I had a feeling I needed to come back. Your front door was unlocked. Why didn’t you...” His glance took in the vanity mirror. “Is he still here?” He’d connected the dots.
She shook her head.
“Lock this behind me.” Like a bullet from a gun, he was out the front door.
Cosette did as he commanded, concentrating on breathing, but the lipstick heart was a huge menacing sign that Jeffrey had returned. In her home! She went through her half-opened drawers. He’d been going through her things!
How had he found her? Unless...what if it wasn’t Jeffrey? Beau had said he’d missed her. Could he have gotten here in time to do this? Yes, if he’d left Friday night, after Wilder had put him in his place. But would he have done this? Cosette couldn’t be sure and she hadn’t been able to clearly see the attacker or his build. Beau was shorter and stockier than long and lean Jeffrey.
She headed for the kitchen. A cup of tea was in order, in the attempt to settle her nerves.
Pounding on the door sent her jumping; she yelped.
“It’s me, Cosette.”
She opened the door and Wilder stalked inside, a deep scowl on his face. “Whoever was here is long gone now. I’ve called the police.”
Cosette nodded. He might be long gone now, but he wasn’t going to stay gone. After leading the way to the kitchen, she reached to turn on the sink faucet, but her hand trembled and water missed the kettle and ran down her arm.
“I think it’s time you come clean.”
Her hands continued to shake as she carried the teapot to the stove.
Wilder’s eyes softened as he took it from her, then led her to the table and into a chair. She didn’t want this—this feeling of needing him. This feeling of helplessness. But part of her relished that he was here. Near her. Protecting her. It wrapped around her heart and caressed it until it was warm and pliable.
No. She closed her eyes. She would not let herself react this way to him. She couldn’t.
“Cosette?” Wilder put the kettle on and then sat across from her, elbows leaning forward on the table “Did he hurt you?”
“No. I think I scared him. Interrupted him.”
“Interrupted him doing what?” His voice was low and icy.
“Drawing that heart. Sifting through my things.” She couldn’t stop shaking.
Wilder got up from the table and pulled her up and into his powerful arms. “How long has this been going on?”
Cosette couldn’t keep this a secret any longer, not from him, or from the police, who would be here any moment. How humiliating. She could kiss the equine therapy idea goodbye. Wilder would lose all faith in her. See her differently when he discovered the truth—that she wasn’t the put-together professional he thought her to be. “The first time or this time?”
Wilder stiffened.
“I’m so sorry, Wilder. I should have told you when the note came. And I definitely should have said something at the graveside.”
He drew back to look at her. “What happened at the cemetery?” His dark eyebrows furrowed.
She told him about the “gifts” and note. “I can resign. Leave.”
He framed her face and scrunched his nose. “You’re not going anywhere but back to CCM and your old apartment. Once the police are done, you can pack a few bags. Unless you have enough to get by for a while.”
Of course he’d want to help her. That was his job. What he did. Protected people. But how could he trust her professional judgment any longer? She could hardly look him in the eye. “Thank you,” she muttered.
The teakettle whistled.
“Have a seat. I’ll get this.” Wilder went to task making her a cup of chamomile tea with honey and brought it to the table. “I wish you would have told me, Cosette. I mean, this is what I do.”
“I know.” It was embarrassing.
“Was this Beau? It’s a cowardly move, and he’s a coward for sure.”
“Until the class reunion, I’d say no. But now I don’t know. It’s doubtful.”
A knock came. “Atlanta police.”
Wilder let them in and shook hands with one of them. Must be a friend. He had friends all over. He took charge like always and gave them the rundown. Showed them the bedroom. “Cosette,” he called. “Was anything taken from your drawers? Did you notice?”
She walked into the room, feeling intruded on by the actual intruder and now the police and Wilder combing through her private things—in her bedroom. “Nothing I can tell, except the tube of lipstick he used. He may have been about to write something when I interrupted him. I can’t say for sure.”
“Any idea who is doing this?” an officer asked.
She had a couple good ones.
