Leaning against the counter, he gulped until he had quenched his thirst. He was in no hurry to get back to his bed. He knew he’d only toss and turn some more. Laurel’s face kept haunting him. There was no denying the truth. Chase wanted her, and that made him feel guilty.
The promise he had made Rand complicated everything, but then again, he would have no relationship with Laurel at all if it weren’t for Rand and his loathsome bank codes. Oh yeah, he had a relationship with her all right, and it had gone deeper than employee/employer somehow. But for the life of him, he couldn’t define it…or perhaps, he didn’t want to define it…or maybe, it wasn’t time to define it…or it might never be defined.
He couldn’t afford to care about Rand’s ex-girlfriend. She wasn’t a friend. She couldn’t be a friend. Certainly not a lover. Not under the circumstances. He couldn’t bring himself to define her as the enemy. She was his adversary…maybe. She probably had a better grip on the real nature of their tenuous relationship than he did.
Chase pushed through the swinging kitchen door with his bottle in hand. Only a few sips remained. He intended to put the water on his nightstand just in case he woke up thirsty. Not that he anticipated getting any sleep. When he was only a few feet into the front room, a figure zoomed past him, nearly knocking him over, pushing him into the wall. His bottle of water hit the hardwood and the remaining ounce or two splashed onto the floor.
He shook off the shock of the sudden impact and entered the kitchen, prepared to confront the intruder. The room was empty, the back door wide open. He stood in the doorway and peered into the darkness, concentrating on the forest beyond the garage. No one—or nothing—was in sight. He closed and locked the door, considering the futility. There had to be another way into the house other than the obvious. The doors had been locked for the night. The intruder had obviously entered the house another way.
The man hadn’t been his imagination; neither was he paranormal or unexplained. The intruder was a live person who bumped into Chase, flesh on flesh. He rubbed the spot where the man’s bare forearm had brushed his. He couldn’t refocus enough to define the details of the intruder’s appearance. In the darkened front room, the man had appeared like a dark blob on a darker background.
What if the thuds and bumps he’d heard earlier weren’t Laurel’s normal going to bed noises? What if the intruder was making his escape after... He couldn’t finish the horrible thought. His stomach dropped. He should have offered to stay with her tonight. Faced her and braved her rejection.
Climbing the back stairs two at a time, he raced toward her bedroom. He was reluctant to knock on her door. What if she was finally managing some sleep? On the other hand, what if she was hurt?
He leaned his ear on her door. Muffled sobs penetrated the wood.
“Laurel? Are you okay?” No answer. He twisted the knob and opened the door a crack.
Laurel lay on her bed, tossing and turning, her sheets wrapped around her like a tangled cocoon.
“Laurel?”
When she didn’t respond, raw fear ripped through him. He ran to her side and stood over her, debating what to do. She didn’t appear to be harmed as far as he could tell.
“No. Leave me alone.” She thrashed at an unseen enemy, nearly clipping Chase on his chin. “Stop.” Her piteous wail stabbed him in the heart.
No, he shouldn’t have left her alone with her fears.
“Laurel, wake up.”
He wanted to shake her out of her nightmare. Hadn’t he read somewhere that waking a person out of a night terror was dangerous?
“Laurel?”
She wasn’t going to wake without some help. He nudged her shoulder.
“Laurel, wake up.”
She shuddered at his touch, opened her eyes with a snap, and then scrambled into a sitting position, pushing her back against the headboard. Her eyes widened with terror when she finally turned her gaze on him. Her sobbing increased, and she pushed one hand in front of her, the other covered her face as if to ward off an attack. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so heart-rending. He backed up a pace, hoping to reassure her he meant her no harm.
Then suddenly she seemed to snap out of her hysteria. As if she’d just awoke. She wiped her eyes. “Chase?”
He dropped onto the side of the bed and pulled her into her arms. Her fingers latched onto the back of his shirt. She was shaking so hard he thought he might not be able to hold her still long enough to rub up and down her backbone.
“Shhh...You’re okay now. You must have been having a nightmare.”
She started crying again, so he lifted her from the bed and sat with her in the rocker, whispering soothing words into her hair. She sobbed another ten or fifteen minutes, but to him the pitiful crying seemed to last forever.
“You want to tell me about it?”
Would she push him away like she always did when he dared get too close to her raw emotions?
“It was the dream.” She stumbled over her words. “It’s the same dream.”
“What dream?” Her stroked her hair. So soft and...yeah, the scent of the girly shampoo she used filled his sinuses.
“I’m in a garage….”
When it seemed she had drifted off into her own thoughts, he prompted her to continue. “Is that why you’re so scared of the garage?”
“What happens in my dream…Well, it never really happened. At least...I don’t think it’s real. I don’t know why I dream it. I think maybe it’s because of what happened…” She stalled again.
“What happened?”
“When I was little...” Her whisper was barely audible. “Locked in the garage for days…” A sob caught in her throat. “And then…I found a dead man in our garage… There was blood everywhere.” She closed her eyes as if the memory of the blood was too horrible to recall.
Chase knew about the dead man. Rand was in jail for the man’s murder. She was referring to two separate events that seemed to be tangled up together in her mind. No wonder the woman left the padlock on the door.
“Then Rand trapped me in the garage... The same garage where I found that man...” She shuddered so hard her teeth rattled. “He just kept hitting me...”
Chase had wanted explanations, but not at the expense of her emotional stability. “Stop, Laurel. You don’t have to tell me this. I can understand why you’re scared of garages.”
“You do?” She pushed back a little.
Their eyes met, and his heart fell...hard and fast.
“Yes, of course, you do. Everyone in the world knows who I am by now.” The words seemed so angry and lost. A sense of betrayal edged her anger. “Everyone thinks I’m…I’m…” She dropped her head on his shoulder.
What had Grayson said? California law enforcement believed she had committed the murder, and the rumor going around the community was that she had set Rand up. When Chase had visited Rand in prison, Rand had denied killing Skip Watson. He had even implied that Laurel had committed the murder.
Her hard sobs had turned to soft tears. Being near Laurel, holding her, whispering words into her hair seemed right and sweet. He had his opinion of her. She was a decent woman, but a woman who had done rough things in the midst of a rough life. Maybe everyone she used to know had hard thoughts about her, but not Chase.
“I didn’t kill that man. Everybody thinks I did, but I didn’t. They sent Rand to jail for that, you know. I testified...”
Yeah, he knew why Rand was in jail.
“Rand never forgets.”
She tightened her arms around his waist. “No. He doesn’t. He’ll hate me the rest of his life...or my life. He’ll never stop trying to get revenge. No matter where I go or what I do, I’ll only be safe a little while...until he finds me.”
His heart shattered. He had found Laurel for Rand. Had he unwittingly become the catalyst for her destruction?
“Why did you testify against him?” He’d been curious about her motives from the day he met her.
“Rand…
I don’t know if he killed Skip, but I know he killed someone. I know it. He knows I know it. I was always so scared he’d turn on me someday. I knew what he was capable of. I told myself that he deserved to go to jail. I hated him so much for ruining my life that I told myself he deserved to die. He caught me in the garage... I thought if I helped Foster send him to jail, I’d never have to be afraid of him again. But I was wrong.”
She was right. Rand would never give up until he’d made her pay for her betrayal.
“In my dream, he says he’s going to find me. I’ve had that dream over and over ever since…ever since…”
“Stop, Laurel. Please, stop.”
He didn’t want to hear anymore, didn’t want to believe his brother was a murderer. No, he had wanted to believe the cops had framed Rand, just like Rand had said. Oh sure, he knew Rand was no saint, but the whole murder thing was a little much for Chase to believe. What was Laurel trying to tell him? That neither of them killed Skip Watson. Rand had been so adamant that Laurel had killed the man that Chase didn’t know what to believe any longer.
What did that say about him? He had considered sleeping with her even though he thought she might be a murderer. But then... Why would Laurel lie, especially in the aftereffects of her hysteria? She couldn’t possibly know he was Rand’s brother, could she? If she did, would she lie to his face? He didn’t think so.
“I’m sorry, Chase.”
He rubbed a stray tear from her cheek. “What for?”
“You’re nothing like him. I don’t know why I said that.” Her lower lip trembled.
“No, you were right. I’m a lot more like him than I want to believe.”
The time had come to tell her everything. If he wanted her to trust him, she had to know how deep her trust needed to go.
“The reason I remind you of Rand is... I’m his brother. Well, his half-brother.”
He waited for the effect of the shock waves that were certainly rippling through her perceptions of him.
She sat up straight. Her backbone stiffened. “Well...that certainly explains a lot.”
She seemed calm. Too calm. Not the reaction he expected.
“I came here because I owed him. He bought the lawyer that appealed my case and got my conviction overturned.” He laughed without mirth. “I knew I’d owe him a huge favor, but I never imagined I’d have to make such an awful promise to him. It’s like I’ve made a deal with the devil. After what Rand has put me through... After what he wanted me to do to you, I think I’d rather have stayed in prison.
“When I came here, I wasn’t worried about your respect or your trust, but now what you think of me means a lot. Knowing you asked me to stay with you last night even though you couldn’t be sure if I’d murder you in your sleep... It feels like hell, Laurel.” He waited for her to say something, anything to break the tense silence. “Don’t you have anything to say? Don’t you have a million questions?” He paused. “Don’t you want to slap me or yell at me?”
“What did he really send you here for?”
Her blank expression hurt worse than if she’d ranted and raged at him. She expected the truth, and she expected to see it naked and revealed in his eyes.
What he said next would make up her mind about him. Forever.
“Like I told you before, he sent me to get his bank codes.”
Her shoulders relaxed. Maybe he had answered satisfactorily. He hoped so. He’d told her the unvarnished truth.
“Did you tell Rand you couldn’t find them?”
“Yes.”
“Did he believe you?”
“No. He thought we were...”
What would she think of Rand’s accusation? They weren’t together that way...not yet. Not that he hadn’t wanted to be with Laurel.
“What did he think we were doing behind his back, Chase?” The catch in her voice sent a wave of renewed desire through him. She’d figured it out.
“That we slept together.”
She laughed. “We did. You probably told him everything without telling him anything. It was probably in the tone of your voice.”
Rand had guessed because Chase had defended her. “We weren’t together the way he thinks.”
She smiled. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll hire someone to kill you, Chase. He won’t stand for that.”
He flinched. Had she set him up for Rand’s retribution? Just like she’d been accused of setting Rand up to take the fall for her? Was that why she asked him to stay with her?
She raised her hand and rested her palm on his cheek. “Why are you still here? You should run while you still can.”
“Because... Because...” He rubbed the back of his neck. It ached instead of itched, the tension in his muscles wound tighter than a coiled spring. “Because I don’t want to leave you. Your life is in danger whether I stay or whether I go. The two of us might be able to stand against him if we stick together.”
A sad smile creased her lips. “I’m sorry, Chase. When I asked you to stay with me, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t know exactly what I was asking. I know it might look like I set you up, but I didn’t intend things to work out this way.”
Ah, so she had guessed what he was thinking. “Why did you ask me to sleep with you?”
“Because I didn’t want to have to worry about where you were or what you were doing. If you were by my side... If you planned to do something to me, at least I’d see it coming. I know it’s twisted logic, but... At least now I know I can trust you. If you were going to kill me in my sleep, you’d have already done it. If I couldn’t trust you, then you’d have already left me alone to fight this fight by myself. And...”
“And what?”
“I don’t want you to leave. For reasons that have nothing to do with Rand or what he wants from me or whether he’ll send someone to finish what you started. I want you stay because you want to stay here...with me.”
He brushed a stray hair from her forehead. Her bright amber eyes glowed with expectation.
“I want to stay here with you.” There, he’d said it. His words perhaps had sealed his fate. He’d announced his willingness to fall for the woman.
She smiled as if accepting his declaration of intent. His lips brushed hers. She moved in to lock the kiss. His arms braced her back and pulled her to him, and she molded into him. They had the night. They’d face the dangers of the next day with the rising of a new day’s sun. At the moment, all he wanted to do was drink in the sweetness of being with her and knowing she wanted them to be together. When the sun came up, he’d tell her about the intruder in her house, but for a little while he wanted to forget how close they were to danger.
Chapter Twelve
When Laurel got out of bed the next morning, the sun was already shining obnoxiously through her bedroom window. She’d chosen the room with the largest windows on the east side of the house because she enjoyed the morning sunshine. She grumbled at her stupidity. The light coming through the curtains didn’t cheer her. It annoyed her.
Actually, she wasn’t pissed at the morning light. She was grumpy because she’d awakened to find Chase missing. As soon as she’d realized he was gone, her giddy mood had dissipated like the morning dew. Had she dreamed his presence last night?
Did the man really hint that he wanted to stay with her because he... She couldn’t complete the thought. She wasn’t ready to indulge in the delicious possibility that he might be falling in love with her. More to the point, she wasn’t ready to admit she was feeling the same way about him.
After he had held her, kissed her until her lips were tender, and pressed his body next to hers until she ached from longing, he had insisted on turning his back to her and going to sleep. His actions were confusing and frustrating. What was keeping him from pushing their desires to the natural conclusion? She wanted him. He wanted her. It should have been easy.
Did he still see her as Rand’s girlfriend? She wasn’t anybody’s property.
He had told her there would be no sex
because she didn’t trust him. Maybe he wasn’t sure of her trust. He might be right. Her trust in him was still a shaky thing. Then again, if he thought she’d set him up for Rand’s wrath, he might be reluctant to trust her. She couldn’t blame him if he remained suspicious of her motives. She was still a bit wary of his.
The clock by her bed read 9:49. Nearly ten. She listened for any noise coming from downstairs where Chase should be working. Nothing. Perhaps in the light of day, he’d realized how foolish he had been to stay with her and left as she suggested he should.
She dressed and put her hair up, forgoing a shower because it would take too much time. When she thought she was remotely presentable, she peered at her reflection in the room’s lone mirror. She didn’t like what she saw. Blue smudges darkened her lower eyelids. A pinkish-red stain spotted her shirtfront. Was that blood? With irritation, she scrounged in her closet until she found the right replacement.
She gathered her courage and ventured out into the hallway. When she got halfway down the back stairs, the unmistakable smell of fried bacon wafted up the staircase to greet her. Her memory flashed back to the last time Chase had made them breakfast. She hadn’t been able to finish her meal the previous morning. It seemed she and Chase were always in the midst of a misunderstanding.
She picked up her pace and stopped short at the bottom of the stairs to stare at Chase’s profile as he stood facing the kitchen counter. His broad shoulders stretched the material of his button down shirt. Blue chambray. A color that usually looked nice on him. He had his long hair tied back into a short ponytail the way he always did when he worked. She wanted to pull out the elastic and run her fingers through the chestnut brown length. He sported just a bit of stubble on his chin as if he’d forgotten to shave. Was he trying to grow a beard? She sucked in a deep breath. Scruffy was a very sexy look for him.
She licked her lips and then cleared her throat so she wouldn’t startle him. He swiftly turned to face her and smiled. Her heart melted like a snowball on a warm winter day. “That smells good. You fixed breakfast again?”
Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts Series Book 1) Page 12