by Cindy Dees
“I’ll bet I can make you change your mind,” she said faintly.
“I’ll bet you can’t. There’s nothing you can say to scare me off.”
“How about this? I killed Eddie.”
“I know. You were holding a knife and he impaled himself on it.”
“I saw him coming. I had time to move the knife, but I didn’t. I froze. It’s my fault he’s dead.”
“Lots of people freeze in panic situations. The fact that you did doesn’t make you a murderer. It makes you normal. Eddie charged you and scared you to death.”
She shook her head a little. “Then how about this? I wanted Eddie to kill me.”
That made him pull back far enough to get a good look down at her. “Why?”
“Because I let him do all those terrible things to me. I could have left, but I didn’t. I stayed year after year. At first, I was too stubborn to admit to anyone else what a terrible mistake I’d made. But then, after a while, it became...normal.”
“Normal how?” he asked carefully. Anna had a wild look in her eyes, and he sensed that at long last he was getting to the heart of the matter with her.
“Hitting me was how he showed me love. I...liked it...when he hit me, because it meant he saw me. It meant he felt something for me. His being angry at me was better than being invisible. Don’t you see? I disappeared. He was the only person who saw me anymore.”
Her voice became hoarse and she sounded like she was struggling to form words. “I...loved him...for that. He messed me up so bad that I wanted him to hit me and push me around.”
Brett frowned, struggling to comprehend what she was saying.
She continued all in a rush. “I’m broken, Brett. I want to be treated terribly. I’m afraid that I actually crave suffering. I’m not worthy of anything else.”
“Then why do you enjoy sex with me so much?” he asked logically. “I’m the only person you’ve ever experienced orgasms with, right?”
She nodded miserably.
“I don’t hurt you. I treat you with tenderness and respect. And you like that.”
She frowned a little as if she was having trouble puzzling through his logic.
“I’ve seen women who enjoy pain. Hell, I’ve seen some guys who like it.” He shrugged. “It’s not my kink, but if they like it, more power to them. Thing is, you’re not one of those people. You get turned on by romance and making out. You like it when I kiss you all over and touch you and make you wet with my fingers.”
He demonstrated, and in a matter of seconds had her writhing on the tips of his fingers. He whispered, “Feel how responsive you are to me, Anna. This is what you crave.”
He plunged two fingers into her slippery heat while he rubbed his thumb around and around her clitoris. He was merciless, driving her until she cried out sharply, arching up off the bed, keening in pleasure.
“You’ve been telling yourself you’re broken for so long that you’ve convinced yourself it’s the truth. But Anna, I know your body. I know your heart. And you’re just fine. Eddie was broken. And God knows, his family is broken. But you are whole. You’re healthy. You’re the sane one. He was the head case.”
Anna stared up at him long and hard. He wasn’t sure if he got through to her, but he was certain he’d given her a lot to think about. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Picking up the rhythm of a new song coming in from the living room, he made love to her again, as slow and lazy and sexy as the saxophone wailing out the blues.
Many hours, and many songs later, he finally watched Anna fall asleep in his arms. He’d given it his best shot. He’d shot every weapon in his arsenal in an effort to convince her of his feelings for her and that she was a lovable person. The rest was up to her.
Chapter 17
Anna had never been so happy and so sad at the same time in her life. Brett had given her the one perfect night she’d always dreamed of experiencing in her life. But now that it was almost over, harsh reality was about to come back with a vengeance, and she had to gird herself mentally and emotionally to face the music.
She was tired, but not sleepy, and enjoyed just lying beside Brett in the dark, listening to his quiet breathing. She wanted to soak up every last morsel of this night and preserve it carefully for the times that came next. Her life was, in effect, over, but this had been a lovely way to end it.
The bedside clock read a little after 4:00 a.m. when Brett’s breathing changed. It sped up, becoming light and fast. She rolled over on her side to look at him, and in the shadow of the alarm clock saw his features contorted in anguish. Oh, dear. He was having a nightmare.
Should she wake him up? Let him sleep through it?
His breathing shifted again. He drew in a long, slow breath from the bottom of his belly to the top of his throat, held his breath for several seconds, and then released his breath slowly. She counted the seconds in worry until he drew his next long, deep breath. What was he doing? He was still definitely asleep. His eyeballs were fluttering rapidly underneath his eyelids. He was perfectly still for perhaps a minute, but then he began to thrash. The more he moved, the more tangled in the bed sheets he became, and the more agitated he became. That was it. She was waking him up. He was going to hurt himself or accidentally hurt her.
“Brett,” she said quietly. “It’s just a dream. Wake up.”
He thrashed some more.
“Brett,” she said more strongly.
Still no reaction from him.
Concerned, she raised herself up over him and actually threw her arm and a leg across him to hold him down and protect herself as she moved in to force him out of his nightmare.
His eyes shot open, but she wasn’t sure he was awake yet. He was staring at something invisible with a look of horror painted on his face.
“Tell me what you see,” she tried. “Describe it to me.”
“They’ll be dead, all of them, if I can’t find the bodies. Bastards will find them first and slit their throats. Have to get to them. Ribs hurt so damn bad. Can’t breathe. Gotta move.”
“Who are you looking for, Brett?”
“My guys!” he replied urgently. “Where the hell are they? So dark out here. Lost my NVGs.”
She frowned. NVGs? Night vision goggles, maybe? She stared down at Brett, who was now twitching beneath her as if he was acting out something he was seeing in his mind’s eye. Should she try to shake him out of this or just go with his dream? If only she knew what to do!
Her gut said to go with it, so she murmured, “What are you doing right now?”
“Climbing back up the hill. Better vantage point to spot my guys—” He swore explosively, making her jump.
“What happened?” she tried.
“One of my guys. Roll him over—” A pause, and then Brett groaned in such pain that she could hardly stand to hear the sound. Surely the soldier in his dream was dead.
“Anna,” he mumbled. “Can’t lose you. Don’t die. Come back to me.”
“I’m right here, Brett. I’m fine.”
If he heard her, he in no way acknowledged her. He started twitching again. He must be moving in his nightmare again.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Two of my guys—”
“No!” he moaned. “Anna. The blood. Don’t bleed out on me, baby. I can’t lose you—”
“Brett! I’m not dead! I’m in bed with you! Feel my body. I’m alive.”
He shook his head and looked off into a horror only he could see, somewhere over her right shoulder. It dawned on her that perhaps this wasn’t just a nightmare. Maybe this was some sort of flashback. Crud. She really didn’t know what to do to help him now.
“Keep talking to me, Brett. What’s going on?”
“Everywhere I look, she’s dead. How can Anna be dead over there and up on that h
ill, and down the road? I keep losing her...” His voice trailed off, and she was stunned to spy a tear escaping his eye.
Had she really been hurting him that badly every time she fled him? She’d had no idea he felt so strongly about her or that he needed her so much.
Pain knifed through her so hot and sharp she nearly doubled over from it. If she’d had any idea at all he was forming such strong feelings for her, she would have left him, left Sunny Creek long ago. He in no way deserved the pain that was bound to come from caring deeply about her. God, what had she done? She was okay with destroying herself, but she couldn’t bear the thought of destroying him.
She had to cut her losses—his losses—now and spare him as much pain as she humanly could. She’d already done too much damage if he was having hallucinations of her dying on some mountain in a faraway war zone.
She smoothed her hand over his brow and shushed him like she would a child, and he gradually quieted, dropping back into sleep.
She leaned down and kissed him with all the love in her heart. She kissed his furrowed brow, and his tense jaw, and then she kissed him one last time on the mouth, a benediction and a blessing, a thank-you for everything that they’d shared and a heartfelt apology for everything to come.
And then she did the only thing she could if she loved him. She slipped out of bed, dressed silently and left.
* * *
Brett woke up slowly, surprised at how late he’d slept this morning. It was after 10:00 a.m. Huh. He never slept past seven or so. Stretching out the kinks, he was surprised to register that he almost felt like he had a hangover, except he hadn’t gotten drunk last night. He frowned in recollection. He’d had only a few glasses of wine. The rest of it came back. Dinner with Anna. An evening of romance and lovemaking for the ages. He’d given her everything he had in his soul to share with her—his desire, his passion and, yes, his love. He’d bared his soul to her.
She’d seemed to understand what he’d done, to appreciate it, even. But she’d also been afraid. He just had to trust that she would come around and ultimately take him at face value. She had to believe that he loved her and trust him enough to accept that he knew what he was doing in choosing her. At some point, she had to come to terms with being lovable and deserving of his affection.
He rolled over to gather her into his arms—
And there was only empty space where she’d been last night.
He sighed. Great. He supposed he should have expected her to pull another runner. He’d laid a lot on her; it had to be hard for her to absorb it all. He got up and was surprised to see that she had already cleaned up the last dishes from last night and tidied the kitchen. The white roses were now on the kitchen table.
He hunted around but found no note from her. Not going to give him any clues as to what was going on in her head, was she? He took a deep breath. He’d taken the leap of faith. Now it was up to her to do the same.
Except when Anna’s quitting time from work came and went and there was no sign of her, he began to worry. He climbed in his truck and drove over to Pittypat’s and was met at the door by one of the owners.
“Hey, Patricia, I’m looking for Anna Larkin. When did she leave work today? Did she say anything about needing to go somewhere or do an errand?”
“She didn’t come in to work today. I figured she must have had something she had to do for the lawsuit.”
His brows slammed together. “What lawsuit?”
“Mona Billingham sued her for the wrongful death of her son.”
He snorted in disgust. “That’s absurd. Eddie was an animal and abused her for years.”
Patricia lowered her voice and leaned in close to murmur, “You and I both know that, but Mona’s got all her friends coming in here and harassing Anna. I would throw them all out on their ears, but Anna won’t let me. She keeps saying it’s no more than she deserves. That girl. Sometimes I just want to shake some sense into her.”
He knew the feeling. “If she stops by, tell her to call me, will you?”
“Of course.”
He headed over to the courthouse to find out what he could about this lawsuit and to see if Anna had been there today. No one had seen Anna, although a couple of people privately complained under their breath to him about the unpleasant lawyer Mona had hired.
Why hadn’t Anna mentioned any of this to him? Of course, he knew the answer. She was determined not to depend on anyone else, or heaven forbid, cause anyone else any trouble. He left the courthouse and heard his name called from behind.
He turned around to see his cousin striding toward him. “Hey, Joe.”
“What brings you to my neck of the woods, Brett?”
“I’m looking for Anna. She didn’t show up at work today, and she didn’t call to say she wasn’t coming in.”
“That doesn’t sound like her. She’s a responsible sort. Nice lady. Kindhearted to a fault. You heard about what she did for her neighbors, didn’t you?”
“No. What?”
“You didn’t hear this from me, but it’s all the talk among the courthouse staff. She paid off two thousand dollars’ worth of tax debt for the couple that lives behind her. Apparently, the old man has dementia and hasn’t been paying the taxes, and the house is going to be foreclosed on. The way I hear it, Anna emptied her savings account to do it.”
Brett frowned. “When did she do this?”
“Couple of days ago. Right after she totaled her car.”
She paid part of the Rogerses’ taxes rather than buy herself a decent car? That sounded like her. “Are the Rogers in the clear now?” he asked.
“Not the way I hear it. An auction is going ahead to sell their house out from under them. Damned shame. They’re good people.”
He spun around on his heel and headed right back into the courthouse, walking along beside his cousin. He headed for the tax office, checkbook in hand.
A gray-haired woman looked up from the high counter as he walked in. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to pay off the rest of the Rogerses’ taxes.”
“Oh, dear. I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The foreclosure auction for their house has started.”
“Where is it?” he demanded.
“It’s right here. We’re accepting bids for the house.”
“What’s the highest bid you’ve got?”
“I can’t tell you that—”
“I’m going to double it, whatever it is. Give me the damned number so I can write a check!”
“I should think that anything in the range about twenty thousand dollars would get you the house.”
Scowling ferociously at the notion of that sweet couple’s entire life being worth only twenty grand, he slashed a pen across a check angrily. “There’s a bid for forty thousand dollars. If anyone outbids that, my phone number is on the check. You call me, and I’ll top it. Got that?”
The woman nodded, her eyes wide.
Irritated as hell, he stomped out of the tax office.
Joe was just coming down the wide staircase from whatever business had brought him here, and said, “We meet again.”
“You haven’t seen Anna around town today by any chance, have you?”
“Nope. Why?”
“I’m worried about her. My gut’s telling me something’s not right.”
Joe looked at him keenly. “I’m inclined to listen to your gut. It was honed in war. When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Last night late. When I woke up this morning she was gone.”
“So it’s like that between you, huh? Guess I won’t be asking her out, then.”
Possessiveness growled in his gut, but was appeased a little when Joe grinned at him and said, “You two make a good couple. I’m happy for you.”
When it got dark and there was still no sign of Anna, Brett was anyt
hing but happy. Her car was still in her garage, so she hadn’t fled Montana, at least. But where was she?
When 10:00 p.m. came and passed, Brett broke. He called Joe’s cell phone.
“What’s up, Brett?” Joe asked sleepily.
“She’s still not home. Something’s terribly wrong.”
Abruptly, Joe was alert. “Meet me down at the station.”
Brett bolted out the front door of Anna’s house and ran for his truck. His gut was shouting at him, the same way it had the night as his squad had walked into that damned ambush. Flashes of going out on patrol into the black night came and went in his mind’s eye. They’d geared up like always. But someone had gotten a hold of a contraband bottle of whiskey the night before. Unused to drinking any alcohol, his guys all had headaches that day. His gut had rumbled that this wasn’t a good night to take them out. But orders were orders, and they would learn not to drink on the damned job—
He broke every speed limit on his way to the police station and burst into the brightly lit office.
Joe was there, waiting for him. “Normally, we can’t file a missing persons report for a couple of days. But I’m willing to make an exception in this case.”
“Thanks,” Brett replied. “Can we ping her phone?”
“We can try. Coverage isn’t great up in the mountains, though.”
Sure enough, when Joe searched for her phone signal, he only got a message back that the number was unavailable. Brett cursed at the computer screen.
“Has she got any enemies? People out to harm her?” Joe asked.
“Yeah. The Billinghams.”
“I’m willing to go pay them a visit if you’d like.”
“I’d like.”
In five minutes, Joe’s police SUV parked in front of the Billingham house. It was a 1960s-vintage brick ranch with a fair bit of trash and old cars parked behind it. There were lights on in the windows. Joe ordered, “Stay in the car, Brett. Let me handle this.”
Cursing and fidgeting, he complied, but he didn’t like it. The front door of the Billingham home opened and Joe had a conversation with whoever stood beyond the opening. At length, Joe came back to the vehicle.