Point of Release

by Remy Landon

  And now she was pulling out of the parking lot. Deep breath. Cringing in anticipation, a quick look in the rearview mirror...but there was nothing. No headlights, no one following. She expelled a long, slow breath of sweet relief.

  Her phone rang, scaring the shit out of her. Holy crap, she needed to calm the fuck down about this. Glancing down as she came to the stop sign, she could see it was a number she didn't recognize. Could this be Brock, who had somehow gotten her number? Could he have seen her leave and maybe was following her from a distance away? Could she be any more paranoid?

  She would answer, because if it was Brock, she wanted him to hear that she was so over this shit.

  “Hello,” she said in the bitchiest, don't-fuck-with-me tone she could muster. “Who is this?”

  A woman's voice—meek and uncertain. “Cassandra?”

  She took the bitchiness down a few notches. “Yes?”

  “It's Gianna—Carlo's sister.”

  “Oh—hi! I'm sorry...I was thinking you were someone else.”

  “No worries! I hope I'm not calling too late. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” Now she was intensely curious. She'd never spoken to Gianna except for at the engagement party. And how did Gianna get her number?

  “I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me, and I definitely don't want to interfere or put any pressure on you, but I really wanted to talk to you.”

  “All right.”

  “I haven't done anything like this before, but I found your number in Carlo's phone while we were in Florida at our family's condo about a month ago. I've been debating whether or not to call you since then. I know you two are having problems, and I don't know any of the details, except that Carlo said it was his fault, and you had every right to be upset with him.”

  At least he'd gotten that part right.

  “I'm not going to defend him, but I want you to know a bit of history so you can factor that in to your decision—if you are even still open to the idea of a relationship with him.” A pause.

  Cassandra swallowed. This was majorly awkward. “Gianna...”

  “I know we don't know each other really at all, Cassandra, but when I met you, I really liked you. And I've never seen my brother so happy. Not since...not since his wife died.”

  The car kept moving forward, but Cassandra's thoughts came to a screeching halt in front of this unexpected revelation. His...wife? Carlo had been married?

  Clutching the steering wheel with her left hand, she felt her insides clench as she tried to absorb this news.

  “I am quite sure he hasn't told you about her, or what happened. He doesn't talk about it.”

  “I think...I think he tried to tell me,” Cassandra managed. “He mentioned losing someone he loved, and that it was his fault. What did that mean? How did it—”

  “It was an accident.” Gianna said quietly. “Three years ago, in the fall, Carlo was riding a motorcycle with his wife on the back. He doesn't remember what happened, but he believes he was going too fast and lost control of the bike, and the two of them were thrown off. He was knocked unconscious and came to in a cornfield. He broke his collarbone and cracked a couple of ribs, but his wife...” A long pause. “She broke her neck and was killed instantly.”

  Oh, God. Carlo.

  “The accident—her death—changed him. He became guarded and withdrawn. He had to be hurting so badly inside, but he didn't show it. After a long time had passed, I hoped he would date again—find someone special. But he wouldn't. He didn't think he deserved to love and continued to punish himself. And I think part of it was, he didn't dare to let himself fall in love again. It was too much of an emotional risk to put himself out there like that, after what had happened.”

  He needed to have things within his control.

  “But then you came along, and I saw a change in him—a lightness and joy that had been missing for the past few years.” Gianna sighed deeply. “I want this for him, Cassandra. I just hope you'll take what I've told you into consideration. And again, please forgive me for invading your privacy, especially where we don't know each other well. But I'm just a girl worried about my big brother whom I love very much.”

  Cassandra's gaze was fixed on the dark, straight road ahead of her, but her thoughts were winding in all different directions. Carlo...married. The accident. His wife. The guilt, and torment...shaping him into what he had become...a man who needed to be in charge, in control, because if you lost control...horrible things could happen. People could get hurt. Including yourself.

  The tears began to work their way slowly down her cheeks. “I understand, Gianna,” she murmured. “I really appreciate you telling me all of this. And Carlo is lucky to have a sister like you.” She hesitated. For some reason, she wanted to know. It would make this somehow more real if she knew. “What was her name?”

  “Her name was Lauren.”

  Lauren. Cassandra said the word silently, testing it out. “Thank you for calling me. I—I have a lot to think about.”

  “And thank you for listening, Cassandra. If you ever need to talk, please feel free to call me. I hope I'll see you again sometime.”

  Cassandra ended the call and dropped the phone into the passenger seat. Lauren Leone. Carlo's wife.

  She turned on to 283, her heart and mind teeming with what she had heard. She knew she would need time to figure out what all of this meant.

  And what it could mean.

  chapter thirty-seven ~ Carlo

  Gratitude, Carlo decided, was responsible for the turnaround in his mood these past few days. After two weeks in the hospital, Estelle had been discharged over the weekend, and although she had said she felt fine and ready to return to work, Carlo had insisted that she stay home and rest for the next several days, and if she felt well enough, come back to the office for half days only until she had regained all of her strength. Reluctantly, she had agreed.

  He was also grateful that Cassandra, for some reason, had been in more frequent contact. At first, he thought she was just checking on Estelle's condition, but even after she heard Estelle was doing well at home, Cassandra continued to text and call every several days. She kept the conversation light and casual, but they were talking. He was trying like hell not to push it, although he did slip in a few flirtatious comments, which she hadn't seemed to mind. So this, at least, had given him hope that he would see her again soon.

  Carlo walked down the long hallway to engineering. He needed to speak to Chris about adapting one of their new products to meet a customer's application.

  The door was already open. Carlo entered to find his engineering manager hunched over a CAD document of one of their new valves.

  “Mr. Butler. That wouldn't happen to be the valve for Harrington, would it?”

  Chris looked up. “Hey, Carlo. Nah, it's the modifications for Lockheed Martin.” He grinned. “I'm going to make the Harrington one my bitch after this.”

  “Good man. I came to talk to you about some adjustments they wanted.”

  “Okay.” Chris snapped his fingers, pointing at Carlo. “Hey, you actually saved me a trip to your office. Rodney and I were out bar hopping this weekend and ran into Brock.”

  “How fortunate for you both. And how is the illustrious prick?”

  “Still unemployed, and still an asshole. Especially as drunk as he was. And he was making threats.”

  Carlo felt a cold, crawling sensation on the back of his neck. “Really. What kind of threats?”

  “That he was going to get back at you for ruining his career, that you'd be sorry you'd fucked with him...and he also added that your little bitch was going to feel it, too.”

  Rage sank its sharp claws into him at this reference to Cassandra. Carlo spoke through gritted teeth. “Did he give specifics?”

  “No—just kept saying you'd both be sorry.” The engineer's round face was anxious. “He was hammered, Carlo, so that was probably just the drink talking.”

  “I'd like to believe
that. I don't trust the bastard, though. I'm hoping he'll be convicted for company spying and thrown in jail for a long time, but until then...I'll be on my guard.” He took a deep breath. “Thanks, Chris. I appreciate the heads up.”

  Telling his employee he'd be back shortly, Carlo strode down the hall to his office. Even if Dall's threats were fueled by alcohol, Cassandra needed to know about them.

  I will protect you as much as I am able, Cassandra. As much as you will allow.

  He had failed in this regard with the first woman he had loved.

  He would not fail again.

  chapter thirty-eight ~ Cassandra

  Cassandra was just pulling into the stable parking lot when he called. Seeing Carlo's name on the screen, she felt the familiar little leaping sensation in her chest. She still hadn't said anything to him about what Gianna had told her. If Carlo knew she had heard in detail about the accident, this would open a lot of doors, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that. So she'd sit with it herself for a while, until the time felt right to talk to him about it.

  “Hi, Carlo.”

  “Hello. Everything all right?”

  “Yes,” she said hesitantly, drawing out the word. “Shouldn't it be?”

  “It should be, but sometimes what should happen and what does happen are two vastly different things.”

  She turned off the ignition and frowned. “You're being cryptic.”

  “You're right. I was calling to check on you because I'm worried about you.”

  “And that's different how...?” There was a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “Cassandra. I'm being serious. One of my employees told me he heard Brock making threats in a bar against the two of us.”

  “What kind of threats?”

  “Nothing specific, just that we'd both be sorry.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  “Apparently.”

  Cradling the phone between ear and shoulder, Cassandra reached into the back seat for her riding clothes and opened the car door to climb out. “I'm betting that's the reason, then. Men are usually idiots when they've been drinking, and since Brock is an asshole even when he's sober, his idiot factor would be off the charts.”

  “I agree, but I wouldn't put anything past him. Who knows what he's capable of.”

  Should she tell him about the stalking? There had been nothing for more than a month, so she was pretty confident it was over. “Well, I wasn't going to tell you, but I had a stalker, and I'm pretty sure it was Brock.”

  Silence from Carlo, then a low, terse response. “What are you talking about?”

  “He—Brock—would show up randomly and follow me after I got done work at Tucker's, and he left a note on my car when I came out of Windswept.”

  “Cassandra...why in God's name wouldn't you tell me this?” His tone was steely.

  She bristled. “Because honestly, it's none of your business.”

  “How are you not my business? If a colleague of mine is stalking you, I want to fucking know about it.”

  “Former colleague of yours. You couldn't have done anything about it. Plus it's not like we're a—a couple or anything, and I didn't want you stressing out, and I didn't want you to keep asking me about it because I wasn't even supposed to be talking to you...”

  Okay, now she was getting pissed, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Standing outside of her car in the feeble March sunlight, she lowered her voice. Josh's Jeep was here, and she didn't want him overhearing any of this.

  “There were a lot of reasons why I didn't tell you,” she finished.

  “None of them particularly compelling. Cassandra, if you felt you were in danger, you needed to tell me. I can protect you. I can hire people to watch you, if needed.”

  Jesus, was he not listening to her? “Carlo. I did not feel I was in any real danger. It was annoying, and I was stressed at times, but all he did was turn his stupid high beams on and follow me around. He's not even doing it anymore. And like I explained, I didn't want you to know. Even if I felt like I was in danger, I wouldn't have turned to you.” All right, maybe that last part was a little harsh. But he needed to know that she was her own person and not some wimpy, needy little thing he could own. And control.

  “What did the note on your car say?”

  God damn, he was driving her nuts. She knew, though, he would not stop until he got his answer. “It said something like 'not yet, but soon.' And obviously, it was totally a bluff, because it's been weeks since he left it and nothing has happened. That's why I really don't think you have anything to worry about.”

  “I always worry about you, Cassandra. I never want anything to happen to you. I would never forgive myself if it did.”

  It was both Carlo's words and the way his voice sounded when he said them that subdued the irritation within her. That, and the knowledge that he was still tormented by his past.

  “It's all right, Carlo. I'll be all right. But I've got to go...I'm heading into the stable. Don't worry—I can take care of myself.”

  Picturing his brooding expression, his slate-colored eyes full of emotion, she had an image of putting her arms around him and kissing his pain away. Instantly, there was an unsettling tugging sensation in her lower abdomen. “I have to go,” she repeated hastily.

  “Promise me you'll tell me if your stalker makes another appearance, or if you feel unsafe at any time.”

  “Yes. I promise.” She locked her car and headed into the barn, planning to clean tack as Ingrid had asked and then go for a short ride on Brownie—maybe ask Josh if he had time to join her. They had interacted multiple times since their impromptu make-out session, and she was relieved it didn't feel awkward. Josh continued to be friendly and relaxed around her, flirty and fun with no pressure, which she appreciated—although the last time they were working together, she had caught him staring at her ass when she had bent over to zip up her half-chaps. He hadn't acted embarrassed that she'd seen him looking at her; he'd just grinned and started whistling as he walked away, and she had smiled in spite of herself.

  She was walking out of Ingrid's office with a clean rag and saddle soap when she saw Josh coming into the far end of the barn from the door that led to the pasture. He was dressed in faded jeans and a blue plaid shirt, the sun from the windows glinting off his sandy hair and bathing him in a buttery glow. And he seemed to be limping, wincing as he stepped down on his right foot.

  “Hey!” she called out, walking down the aisle toward him. “What did you do?”

  He looked up and managed a grin. “Let's just say I should know better than to interfere with a female in love. I was getting Tango in the pasture, and you know how Sweet Surrender's in heat pretty much 24/7?”

  Cassandra nodded, smiling.

  “Well, she was basically right up my boy's ass and wanted to follow him out. I said no, she had other ideas, and I rolled my damned ankle when she came into me.”

  “The pressure and release thing didn't quite take, huh?” Cassandra couldn't resist teasing.

  “Only because I haven't worked with her yet.” He winked as he shuffled over to the row of stalls and rested his arm on top of one of the doors. “Damn mare got her way, too, because I put Tango right back in the pasture after I got hurt.”

  “Seriously, I'm really sorry. Females can be such pushy bitches.” She came closer so that she was standing next to Josh. “Let me help you get to the office so you can sit down. I can help you take off your boot, and we can put some ice on it.”

  He grinned at her, shifting his weight on his left boot. “The office? You sure you dare to go in there again with me?”

  “Very funny. You're basically crippled, so I feel quite comfortable.”

  Cassandra stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Josh, and he slung his arm around her shoulders. She took his hand and wrapped her other arm around his waist, supporting him the best she could as they made their way slowly to the office.

  She helped Josh lower himself into Ingrid's chair, emptied out a crate o
f horse magazines and flipped it over for him to prop his foot on. Grasping his calf, she carefully lifted his leg and set his booted foot down gently on the crate. “Do you feel like it's swelling?”

  “Are we still talking about my ankle?”

  Laughing, she waved her hand at him. “Stop. You're supposed to be in pain, remember?”

  “You're distracting me from it, which is a good thing.”

  “Let me make sure we have ice, and then I'm going to help you slide your boot off.”

  “Jesus, that's gonna be a good time. Do we have to?”

  “Yes. Unless you want me to cut it off?”

  “No, ma'am. Not my cowboy boot. I'll suck it up.”

  Cassandra went to the refrigerator and lifted the door of the small freezer section. A bag of loose ice and a cold pack. You could say what you wanted about Ingrid, but she was always prepared for anything.

  “Okay, let's see if we can get this boot off. I'll be as careful as I can.” She knelt down in front of him, cupping the heel of his boot in one hand, the other hand on the toe, and began to ease the boot off gingerly. Glancing up, she saw Josh wince in pain, his face ashen. Even the freckles across his nose looked pale. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Better to get it off before it swells up any more.”

  “I'll go slow.” She worked the boot lower, trying to keep his ankle as still as she could, and finally, the boot was off.

  Sighing with relief, Josh leaned forward to slip off his sock. There was already some swelling and the beginning of a faint bruise. Cassandra reached for the cold pack and waited while Josh rolled up his pant leg. There was a jagged-looking scar on his shin, gouged deep into his skin and snaking up his leg, looking rather like a lightning bolt.

  She looked up at him, wrinkling her nose. “Ouch. That looks like it hurt.”

  “Oh, yeah. It did.”

  “Is there an exciting story to go with it? Or did you cut yourself shaving?” She grinned as she wrapped the ice pack gently around his ankle.

  It surprised her that Josh was not smiling back. “I'm sorry,” she said quickly. “Kinda rude of me, when I don't know what happened.”