Her Forgotten Betrayal

by Anna DeStefano

  “There’s no official statement on file,” he said. “It’s entirely possible your old man made the whole thing up and used his connections to frame me. But it was enough for them to formally charge me while I was too weak and too drugged up to defend myself. Of course my old man was nowhere to be found by then, probably off somewhere getting his drunk on because he couldn’t deal with the entire damn county thinking I’d killed their precious golden boy, after deflowering the Cassidy princess.”

  She winced at his description of her. Not that he was wrong. “And I stayed away, too.” She hadn’t been able to sleep or eat. She’d let everything slip away, losing herself in a crippling depression. She hadn’t been nearly strong enough to keep Cole, just like in her last nightmare. “While you thought I blamed you for everything.”

  “We were young.” His indifferent shrug punished her far worse than the angry explosion he deserved to throw at her. “It was a long time ago.”

  “I came looking for you.” That much she could recall.

  It was too little, too late, but she wanted him to know. She couldn’t remember much from after that time, after she’d finally pulled herself together and out of her bedroom. Nothing else was coming back…except for that one afternoon, almost as if her mind knew she needed to see it, so she could tell Cole.

  It was the last time she’d run through the woods toward him. It was the day she’d learned she’d have to live without him for the rest of her life.

  “I finally confronted my father and made him tell me what was going on. He was so angry still. Until then, I’d had no idea how badly you’d been hurt or that you’d been accused of killing Bastian. Father was tossing things in his office, ripping the room apart. He’d been told you were released from the hospital that morning. The sheriff had called to say the charges against you were dropped due to lack of evidence. The ruckus my father was making was what finally got through to me. I made him tell me everything, all of it, and I ran out of the house before he could stop me.”

  “Why?” Cole’s voice was empty. “It had been weeks, Shaw. You hadn’t thought of me in weeks.”

  “I thought of you every day.” She’d needed him so much, it had devastated her. Needing anything during that awful time had felt like dying herself. Through Sebastian’s death, she’d faced all over again the reality of how easily things, people, could slip away right before her eyes. Her mother. Her grandmother. And even her hateful brother. “I was terrified of losing you, too.”

  “So you pushed me away?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “You were a scared little girl.”

  “Yes.” The accusation stung, but it was the truth. Him leaving her, not giving her a chance to come to her senses, had felt like a betrayal, too. One she’d never recovered from. But she’d brought it on herself. “I should have been there for you, like you had been for me. But as soon as I could, as soon as I found out you were in trouble, I ran to you, Cole. I never said those things to the sheriff.”

  “You ran to me?” His expression softened.

  “But you were already gone.”

  He nodded. “When I was released from the hospital, I walked away from High Lake and never looked back. My old man didn’t want me in his life, and the sentiment was mutual.”

  “And you didn’t want me anymore, either.”

  He nodded again. “That’s what I told myself. I couldn’t stomach the thought that you’d blamed me for what happened to your brother. If you didn’t want to see me again, I could live with that. But I couldn’t stand hearing you say it. I couldn’t bear—”

  “My betrayal.” Shaw closed her eyes and saw again the awful scars on his back. “I ruined it for both of us. I gave you the reason you needed to stop believing in me, the way you thought I’d stopped believing in you. You saved me, and I threw it all away. Yet here you are, in the middle of my mess of a life, protecting me all over again. While I’ve been shrieking at you, not trusting you, because of some stupid dream. Can you ever forgive me for being so careless and stupid with what we had?”

  …

  It should have meant everything to Cole, finally knowing the truth about their past. It should have washed everything clean between them, cementing the new start they’d begun to build.

  Yeah, a part of him should still be pissed. But he could hear the emptiness and pain behind her memories. He’d been careless, too. He’d thrown away the promises they’d made to each other. He hadn’t known how to hold onto something that perfect. He hadn’t fought hard enough to make her understand that they were supposed to be together forever, no matter what. And she’d clearly suffered as much as he had.

  Now he had to drop another shitload of pain on top of what her troubled memories had brought back.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, meaning it. “You believed in me then, and you believe me now. I don’t need anything more. But there’s another reason why your nightmare’s painting me into the scene from your shooting. Your intuition is picking up on more than you realize. I don’t want to upset you more, but we have to talk about this.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding miserable but determined not to fall apart again.

  Which gave him hope. But would remembering as much of their past as she had help her give them the second chance they deserved, once she learned the truth behind his reappearance in her life?

  “Your accidents are happening more frequently, and I have every reason to believe that this is only the beginning. I’m going to protect you from whatever happens next, like I did that day in the barn. Tell me you believe that.”

  “Of course I believe you,” she said.

  Her open expression nearly brought him to his knees. Love. There was only love in her eyes now. Her doubts were gone. He had her complete faith, just as he had all those years ago when he’d thought she’d turned her back on him. He felt an aching desperation to hold onto this moment, to the sweetness of her trusting him. But that wouldn’t keep her safe. And above all else, what Cole wanted most was for Shaw to be safe.

  “I couldn’t tell you any of this before,” was his weak-ass opener. “At first I didn’t believe you were in danger, and your memory is so fragile—” He broke off and grimaced. “Shaw, I need you to hear me through and try to remain calm. Give me a chance to explain. I need to know that we’ll still be able to work together, so we can get you out of this mess.”

  Wariness had crept into her expression. He sensed her distancing herself, bracing for a blow.

  “Okay,” she said. “Talk. All of it this time, Cole. Tell me what you’ve been keeping from me.”

  His secure cell phone chose that moment to blast a muted, buzzing demand for his attention. With a curse, he pulled it from his jeans pocket and checked the time on the display. He winced, then entered his password and menued through to the incoming text.

  check-in missed. contact, Dawson’s dictate read. now.

  Stupid.

  Were there any other stupid things Cole could do to blow this assignment? Because he’d hate to stop before he made every boneheaded, rookie mistake in the book.

  “Stay here,” he said after grinding out another curse.

  Damn it. All hell would break loose in Atlanta if he didn’t make contact in the next few minutes. He headed across the room.

  “Lock the door,” he said, “and don’t open it unless you’re sure it’s me on the other side.”

  Shaw rushed toward him, a cloud of snowy-white blanket wrapped around her. He caught her in his arms. The feel of her against him brought an instant of peace, then tightened his body to the breaking point.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded. “You can’t say what you did and leave me hanging. Tell me I can trust you, and that I’m not crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy,” he said. “And I would die to protect y
ou. After everything you’ve remembered, you have to believe that.”

  She looked uncertain again. “What’s going on?”

  “Something I couldn’t tell you about sooner.” He cupped her cheek the way he longed to have the right to do every day for the rest of their lives. “For the same reason I have to take this call—to keep you safe. Wait for me here. When I come back, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  Her forehead crinkled near the darkening bruise she’d gotten in her fall. Her nose was red from crying, and her hair was a riot of tangles.

  She was magnificent.

  Something of what he was feeling must have slipped into his expression, because Shaw softened against him. She managed a smile that was a wobbly mess. It almost had him dragging her back to bed. Instead, he kissed her petal pink lips and begged whatever angels were still fighting on his side for just a little more help.

  “I’m yours, Shaw. Once we get you out of here, once we know everything, whatever you need me to be, that’s what I’ll be. I’ll take care of you and whoever’s messing with you. All you have to do is trust me a little longer and try to remember who’s hurting you in your nightmare. Can you do that for me?”

  She stiffened. Then she relented, kissed him back, and stepped away, her hand finding his. “Promise me I’m not going to regret this.”

  “You have my word.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’m going to take this call, see what happened with the stairs, and make sure the place is still secure after we slept for so long. Don’t unlock this door until you hear my voice, okay?”

  She nodded, her courage impressing the hell out of him all over again. Her next breath was more of a gulp. But she stepped back, her fingers sliding free.

  She closed the door behind him and locked up.

  Fifteen minutes, he told himself. He’d fill in Dawson, recon the stairs, and search the place for any new clues as to what this bastard might be up to next. He’d do his damn job. But in fifteen minutes, his ass was going to be back with Shaw. And somehow, he’d find a way to keep her believing in him, in them, after he confessed everything. Then together, the two of them would find a way to get her out of this, including clearing her from federal prosecution.

  He speed-dialed on his way to the stairs.

  “Code,” the voice on the other end said.

  “Get Dawson,” he said, shitting all over operation protocol. “This is Marinos. We’ve had a change in plans.”

  “Authorization code?” the voice calmly said.

  Cole harnessed his temper as he eyed the smooth edges of the weakened spots in the top boards of the step—a freshly installed bit of scrap wood he’d handled earlier. Which meant his fingerprints would be all over it.

  The damage had been meticulously executed. Someone was going out of his way to make Cole look dirty as hell. Someone with sophisticated technology at his disposal, but who’d been packing a simple wheel gun when he’d tried to shoot Shaw in Atlanta.

  “Fuck authorization,” he growled. “Get Dawson on the phone. Now.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shaw found her clothes. She slipped her sweats on over Cole’s shirt, not wanting to lose her physical tie to him. She didn’t want to be away from him at all, not for a minute.

  Her nightmare was still too close. And someone was definitely messing with her in the mansion. But she wasn’t running this time. Whatever Cole needed to tell her when he came back, she’d find a way to deal with the rest of their past. She wouldn’t let either herself or him down again. Nothing else was coming between them. She recalled his scars, living proof of what he’d already sacrificed for her. She could trust him with her life. He’d given her his word. The rest, they would figure out as they went.

  She was remembering more and more, almost all of it horrible. But she felt so close to the answers she needed, the ones that would free her to move on to the life she wanted with Cole. The thought of it made her downright giddy.

  Maybe the lonely life she’d had to go back to before he’d shown up hadn’t been enough to tempt her to really fight for it. Maybe her mind was getting stronger by the second because someone was finally there who believed her about the misfiring images she kept seeing. Not Dawson or his endless stream of federal officers and agents and psychologists. Their impatience with her nightmare had never given what little she’d remembered a chance to blossom into more. The progress she was making in her recovery now was happening for only one reason.

  Because of Cole.

  After everything she’d put him through, he’d promised to stay by her side. She was fighting with him, not alone. She’d be fighting for them from now on, the way she should have before.

  But against whom?

  Who was standing in the way of Cole and her getting back what they shouldn’t have lost as teenagers? She tried to see her shooter’s face and remember more of her dream beyond a scarred man with an old-fashioned gun. But the other details were gone again. She studied the walls and furniture around her while she attempted to force his identity to return, as if her guest bedroom held whatever elusive clues she needed. It didn’t, of course, any more than the rest of the mansion had triggered a single useful recollection.

  She’d been all over the house, scouring every closet, room, and drawer. There’d been nothing to find, except for a neglected, forgotten home that no one, including Shaw, had loved in a very long time. And Cole had found no signs of tampering around the Victorian’s windows and doors.

  Yet someone was using her quiet, isolated, healing retreat on High Lake to get a cheap thrill out of tormenting her. When she found out whom that someone was, she was going to help Cole kick some serious ass. Then she was going to use her sizable connections and financial assets to guarantee that what was left of the man was prosecuted to within an inch of his life.

  Think, Shaw. No more waiting around to see what happens next. Get this done!

  The strange sounds and voices she’d heard at night, the accidents…they’d all been real. It was a relief to know that for sure. But it was also a puzzle. How had someone managed that?

  Someone’s playing with you…, Cole had said.

  As though he knew her patterns, the things and places she preferred most in the mansion, and when he could get in and out of the Victorian undetected, like this last time while she and Cole were sleeping. The sense that she was being watched, that she’d been observed from the moment she’d walked back into this house, was stronger than ever.

  She scanned the room she and Cole had spent the last several hours in, not sure what she was looking for. But the instinct wouldn’t let up that something important was there.

  She had to call Inspector Dawson about all this. She pushed off the bed, ignoring the headache that had settled in. She began to pace. As soon as Cole came back and they’d talked, she’d tell him about how useless Dawson had been so far. They’d call Atlanta together and demand that someone get his butt up there and help them figure things out. Shaw would take the heat for breaking Dawson’s stupid rule and talking to Cole. But she wasn’t stopping until the inspector agreed to get to the bottom of this.

  No more taking no for an answer. No more letting people talk her into doubting herself. Things had gotten completely out of hand.

  How had someone known to sabotage her bath, the silverware drawer, the step that was already in bad repair? It was as though…

  As though someone were watching her every move. Maybe he had nefarious plans for the whole house and was waiting for the best time to spring each surprise. Had he known about her and Cole’s past even when she couldn’t remember, and after Cole’s arrival he’d found a way to ramp up her already raging anxiety? Had he really been triggering one accident after another, hoping she’d break down and blame it all on Cole?

  She scanned her environment again, taking in the details of the gues
t room she’d cleaned once or twice but otherwise hadn’t spent any time in. There had to be something she was missing. She was CEO of a research corporation. Details would have been her bread and butter. What was she missing? What part of this room hadn’t she had her hands on, that someone could have used to his advantage?

  She saw the same faded wallpaper as before, and the even shabbier shades on the bureau lamp and the one standing beside the bed. The drapes were pulled across the windows, the night sky bright beyond it with twinkling stars. She turned from the window, her gaze rising to the crown molding that trimmed the ceiling all over the house.

  She squinted. She’d cleaned everything, absolutely everything in the Victorian except the ten-foot ceilings. They’d been bothering her, too—the cobwebs, the stains. But her balance was still questionable, and she’d been told to avoid things like standing on ladders.

  The blood chilled in her veins, making her shudder.

  It wasn’t possible. The solution to how she’d been under surveillance this entire time couldn’t be that simple or that fantastic. Was she being paranoid again?

  What was taking Cole so long to come back?

  The hell with waiting or being too weak to take care of this herself. She dragged the room’s tallest chair toward the nearest wall, gritting her teeth as her head throbbed. After several misfires, she got herself standing on the seat. She braced her hands on the back of the thing so she didn’t tumble off onto her head, then she let go and straightened. Pushing herself onto the tips of her toes, she stretched until her fingers could feel along the strip of molding above her, pressing to see if it could be loosened. Nothing happened.

  Undaunted, she eased back to the floor, moved the chair toward the corner, and repeated her search there. It took two more tries before a portion of the molding literally popped off into her hand, revealing a neatly cut compartment behind it.