Desperate Measures (Harlequin Intrigue)

by Carla Cassidy

  He raised his head and looked beyond her shoulder. His voice was flat and weary as if he’d gone over this a million times in his mind. And in replaying it, someplace along the line he’d broken.

  “That night I was tired of her company and I had a date. I wanted to bring my date back here and I didn’t want a pesky sister hanging around.”

  Monica sank down next to him but knew instinctively now wasn’t the time for her to touch him in any way. He was lost in the memories of that night “I made her leave. I knew she didn’t really want to go, but I kicked her out of the house anyway.” For a few moments he didn’t speak as tears fell down his cheeks. His grief and guilt were painfully palpable in the air.

  She finally broke the silence. “What else did you do?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “That’s it. Isn’t it enough that I kicked her out of a place where she would have been safe and placed her right in the arms of the man who killed her?”

  “Oh, Jake.” She sighed and then did what she wanted to do. She placed her hand on his forearm. “You’re going to hold yourself responsible for the rest of your life because of this? Because you were human and wanted a night to yourself?”

  He started to pull his arm away from her, but she held on tight. “I made it possible for Max to kill her.”

  “Max wanted her dead and if not then, he would have found another time and another place. He was the monster, Jake...not you.”

  Her heart ached for him. He’d carried around this guilt, this sense of responsibility for his sister’s murder, for two long years. And apparently he intended to carry it with him and punish himself for the rest of his life unless she could change his mind. And she desperately needed to make him realize he was in no way responsible for his sister’s murder.

  “Jake, let yourself out of the prison you’ve put yourself in,” she said fervently. “You did nothing wrong.” Tears of frustration burned at her eyes as she felt his resistance in the tense muscles of his arm.

  “This isn’t what Suzanna would want for you. She wouldn’t want you to turn your back on love and happiness. She wouldn’t want you to live your whole life alone. Please, Jake. Tell me I can stay. Tell me you want to build a real life with me.”

  He looked at her and in his eyes she saw a sadness that made the tears chase faster and faster down his cheeks. “Monica, I’m sorry.”

  He pulled his arm from her grip and stood. “Let me know when you’re ready to pack the car and I’ll drive you home.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  She remained on the sofa as sobs of heartache ripped through her. She couldn’t believe this was how it was going to end. For several long minutes she remained seated, hoping and praying that he would come back into the room and tell her he’d changed his mind.

  When that didn’t happen she drew several deep breaths to stop her tears and rose from the sofa. Now all she wanted to do was get to her own house, where she could truly cry for what might have been.

  It took her almost half an hour to pack up all her clothes and toiletries, and as she worked a curious numbness swept through her. She then went into his office and packed up all her equipment. She carried or dragged all the suitcases and duffel bags to the front door.

  During all this Jake remained in his bedroom with the door closed. The coward. He’d destroyed her and then had run to his bedroom to hide from the emotional fallout.

  She strode down the hallway and knocked on his door, a tiny flame of anger igniting in her chest. “I’m ready,” she said when he opened the door.

  He gave a curt nod and followed her to the front door. Neither of them spoke as they loaded her things into his car. They also didn’t speak on the drive to her house.

  She played and replayed what he’d told her and the flame of anger burned just a little bit brighter. He’d taken on the responsibility for Matt Harrison’s actions and intended to carry the burden for Suzanna’s murder for the rest of his life.

  When they reached her house they silently unloaded everything into her living room and then he stood by the front door apparently to say a final goodbye.

  “You’re something else, Jake,” she said as she allowed her anger to rise to the surface. “You must think you’re some important person in the grand scheme of life. You alone unleashed a killer and you somehow believe you’re responsible for your sister’s murder. You know what I think?”

  His eyes had become dark and hooded as he met her gaze and his features were stoic, as if he was going to allow her to vent and then he’d just leave.

  “I think you’re a big coward. I think you’re hiding behind tragedies so you don’t have to face real life and real love. You’re a big coward, Jake Lamont.”

  “Monica,” he said softly.

  She raised a hand to silence anything he might want to say. Tears began to blur her vision. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say unless you’re going to tell me you love me and want a life with me.”

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he replied.

  “You’re hurting yourself way more than you’re hurting me. In the last couple of weeks I’ve realized that I want love in my life. I love my work, but I want more. I wanted that with you, Jake.”

  A sob caught in her throat. “I know you love me, Jake. I didn’t imagine your love. I know it’s real and true and I think what we had...what we could have would be beyond wonderful. But you’re too big a coward to handle it. You’ve made it clear to me that you’re too scared to take a chance on love. You’re going to wear a damned safety line through the rest of your life and that will keep you safe from any emotional ties you might build.”

  Another sob escaped her and suddenly her anger was gone, replaced by a wild grief. “Please Jake, don’t make me beg for you. Look deep in your heart and tell me you want me as much as I want you.” She stopped and bit her lower lip as she saw his answer in the darkness of his eyes.

  Without another word she turned and headed down the hallway. When she reached her bedroom she heard the sound of the front door closing.

  He was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monica sat at her table drinking her morning coffee. It was a few minutes after ten and even though she had just gotten out of bed, she was exhausted. Her arm hurt but that pain didn’t begin to compete with her wild heartache.

  She’d cried for hours yesterday after Jake had brought her home. She’d half hoped he would magically reappear and tell her he was ready for her love, but that hadn’t happened. She had only managed to pull herself together about an hour before her podcast. For the first time the podcast was difficult for her.

  As she’d told her viewers about the terror of being up on the beams when confronted by a serial killer, all she could think about was Jake. When she’d reported about them being shot, her heart had cried for her man.

  Somehow she had managed to get through the podcast and then had collapsed in bed. She’d cried herself to sleep, but thankfully she’d slept without dreams. However, the minute her eyes had opened, thoughts of Jake assailed her once again.

  He was right. He had warned her, but the heart knew what the heart wanted. And despite her intentions to the contrary, her heart wanted him. And what really broke her was that she knew with every fiber of her being that Jake loved her.

  He was the fool. A misguided fool who planned on keeping himself isolated from others because of a guilt he shouldn’t own.

  She’d hoped her love might heal him. She’d definitely hoped he would pick love over his guilt, love over fear, but that hadn’t happened.

  With a sigh she got up and poured herself another cup of coffee. Later today she intended to contact somebody to fix the Sheetrock in the living room. She needed to reclaim her house as a safe haven and she couldn’t do that until the bullet damage was gone.

  Maybe she should just let the damage remain. When she look
ed at it, her thoughts would always take her back to the night she and Jake had shared their first kiss, the first night he had saved her life.

  No, she was going to get the wall repaired or replaced and then maybe she’d paint the entire room a new color to go with a fresh start.

  Her doorbell rang. Every muscle in her body froze. Jake? Was it possible he’d changed his mind about things? She jumped up from the table, her heart beating wildly in triple time.

  She ran to the door. She unlocked it and flung it open. All the joy that had momentarily filled her whooshed out of her. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  “Aren’t I allowed to visit my daughter? Hmm, I smell coffee.”

  “Come in and I’ll make you a cup.” She opened the door wider to allow him in and wondered what had really brought him here.

  Neil Wright was a big man, with big arms from working construction all his life. He’d retired a year ago and Monica was glad he now had a life of fishing and golfing.

  He went into the kitchen and sat at the table. “I watched your podcast last night.”

  She popped a coffee pod into the machine and then turned and looked at him in surprise. “You did?”

  “Yeah, to tell the truth I’ve watched you several times, but I don’t want you ever to put yourself in danger like you did with this Vigilante stuff. You’re good at this reporting stuff, but you don’t have to put yourself in dangerous situations to get a story.”

  She stared at him. He’d just told her she was good, words she’d been waiting to hear from him, but she hadn’t been good enough for Jake. She suddenly burst into tears.

  “Hey, hey.” Neil got up from the table. “What’s going on here? For God’s sake, why are you crying?”

  She shook her head, unable to answer him with the raw emotions that had a grip on her.

  To her surprise he pulled her into his arms as she wept uncontrollably. He patted her back awkwardly as she cried into his broad chest with his big arms encircling her.

  She couldn’t remember the last time her father had held her in his arms. She cried for a few minutes and then raised her head and looked at the man who had raised her. “He broke my heart, Daddy. Jake broke my heart.”

  “Give me his address and I’ll go beat the hell out of him.”

  His mock bluster made her laugh. She swiped at her tears as he released her. “Sit back down and I’ll get the coffee.”

  Moments later the two sat across from each other. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say something positive about me,” she confessed.

  He looked at her in surprise and then leaned forward in his chair and gazed at her thoughtfully. “Maybe I haven’t been good at letting you know how proud I am of you. Your sisters were so easy to raise. They’re both just like your mother. They’re natural pleasers. But you, you scared the hell out of me. You were so much like me. You were a rebel and you questioned everything. You were a real challenge to raise, but honey, I’ve always loved you and I’m always proud of you. You just never seemed to need me as much as your sisters.”

  “I really, really needed to hear everything you just said to me,” she replied. “I really needed to know that you love me.”

  Neil frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. When your mother passed, I was terrified. I was suddenly the single parent to three little girls. You know, there wasn’t a manual to tell me how to do it.”

  “You’ve been a great father. Maybe I should have asked for what I needed from you.”

  He smiled at her. “Once and for all, I love you, Monica. I love you with all my heart.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Now, enough of this emotional stuff. I see you have a bandage on your arm. How is that doing?”

  Monica’s heart swelled with the words her father had spoken to her. They were what she’d wanted...what she’d needed to hear from him for years. And she had a feeling she would never hear them again.

  “Dad, you have to respect that doing the podcast is my career. It’s what I want to do.”

  He frowned. “I understand that, but you can’t blame me for wanting the best for you. Last night when I heard what happened to you, it scared the hell out of me. I can respect what you do and still want you to be safe and financially secure.”

  “I seriously doubt I’ll ever be in a position again to face a serial killer.”

  “I hope not. I know you and your sisters aren’t close, but before I die I’d like to see that change. They are your family, you know.”

  “They don’t seem to want a relationship with me,” she replied. “They just ask me out for coffee and stuff because they feel obligated.”

  “I think you’re wrong. They care about you, Monica.”

  They talked for about a half an hour and then he left. If nothing else came from this, at least she felt a new closeness to her father.

  But with him gone there was nothing left except her heartbreak. Half a dozen times throughout the day she thought about calling Jake.

  But what for? To ask him if he’d changed his mind about them? If that had happened, then he would be here with her right now. She wasn’t going to beg for his love.

  Around two she decided to take a nap. She’d gotten little sleep the night before because she hadn’t been able to stop crying.

  She immediately fell asleep and into dreams of Jake. And in those dreams she was in his arms and he was making sweet love with her. Then they were sitting at his kitchen table and laughing together. Finally they were walking down the sidewalk with a double stroller in front of them. In the stroller was a little dark-haired girl and a little dark-haired boy. Twins.

  She awakened crying for all she would never have with the man she loved. She had to get back her excitement, her wild passion for her work, and stop thinking...somehow stop loving Jake Lamont.

  Over the next five days the news cycle changed and stories about the serial killer were few and far between. Her podcast subscribers grew in number and she told herself she was fine. She saw her family doctor, who rebandaged her arm and prescribed some antibiotics.

  A cool front had moved in and suddenly it felt more like fall than summer. She packed away some of her lightweight things and pulled out sweaters and blankets. She gathered two bags of clothes and shoes to donate. Two men spent two days fixing the Sheetrock in her living room and then she spent an afternoon painting. She went shopping for new pictures to hang on the wall and kept up a frenetic pace that gave her little chance to think.

  She managed to convince herself she was fine until the long, dark hours of the night. She sometimes felt as if he were haunting her. She imagined she could smell him in her sheets and feel the heat of his body warming hers.

  She kept telling herself it was just going to take more time for her to forget Jake. But each day she awakened with the same heartache of what might have been.

  This morning she had decided to scrub the kitchen from top to bottom. She needed to clean out her pantry and wash down tiles. She threw on a pair of jean shorts and an old navy T-shirt and then drew her hair up in a messy ponytail.

  The only way she had gotten through each day was to stay busy. She didn’t want to give herself time to think because her thoughts always ended up on Jake. And those thoughts always brought on another bout of tears.

  Another good outcome of the big story of the killer was that both her sisters had called her, offering their love and support. She’d made plans to meet them for lunch the following week. She might have lost at love, but she’d gained a new relationship with her family.

  She started scrubbing the tiled area behind her sink with a lemon-scented cleaner. As she worked she tried to stay focused on her podcast and what she intended to report that night. There weren’t a lot of stories that had really captured her and begged her to dig deeper.

  With school starting in the next couple of days, tonigh
t she had a taped interview from a security expert talking about school safety.

  A knock on her door pulled her from her work. It was probably her father stopping in for coffee. He’d mentioned on the phone the day before that he might come by again.

  She yanked open her door and a small gasp escaped her. Jake. “Can I come in?” He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Lines of exhaustion ran down the sides of his face and there was a hollow darkness in his eyes.

  She opened the door to allow him in. Why was he here? She steeled her heart against him. He didn’t look like a man who had come here to profess his love for her; rather, he looked like a tormented man.

  “The wall looks nice,” he said when he entered the living room. “I like the new color.”

  “I know you didn’t come here to check on my home repair. Why are you here?” Her heart beat a faster rhythm as she gazed at him.

  He sank down on the sofa and released a deep sigh. “From the moment Suzanna was murdered I decided that I would be alone for the rest of my life. It had always been her and me against the world, and without her I was utterly lost.”

  Monica sat on the chair facing the sofa. Was he here to clear his soul? Did he feel the need to once again go over all the reasons why he couldn’t return her love? Was he here to once again reject her? She said nothing but continued to gaze at him.

  “You were just supposed to stay a partner in finding the killer. You were never supposed to be anything else.”

  “Why are you here, Jake?” she asked again. Seeing him again was killing her. This might be something he felt like he needed to do, but she couldn’t just sit here while he told her all the reasons he couldn’t be with her.

  “I’m here because you were right. I’ve been a coward. I was afraid to face life. My grief over Suzanna made me afraid to care about anyone else again. Intellectually I know that I’m not responsible for her murder, but it was easy to grasp on to that to keep people away.”

  He stood and walked over to her. He took her hand in his and pulled her up out of the chair. Her heart quickened its pace as she gazed into his eyes...eyes that now held warmth.