Retreat To Me (The Retreat Series Book 1)

by Christina Benjamin

  Suddenly, Cassidy’s heart ached to hear the song. She closed her eyes and the memory of the song Thomas played her the other night flooded her. “I wrote it for you,” he’d said. This was their song. In that instant she knew these were the words that went with it. She’d felt them—as if the music had etched them into her skin, awaking the song that had always been in her bones. Their song!

  A wild agony pierced her heart. This couldn’t be where it ended. Thomas’s music was too beautiful, too full of life for the world not to hear it. It had made her feel when she thought she couldn’t. That kind of magic shouldn’t be silenced just because some radio executive wanted to exploit them.

  Cassidy glanced at the torn contract glaring at her from the piano. An idea began to form. She grabbed the contract and stalked to the phone. Her fingers whirled the dial, executing the numbers typed below the radio station’s address. After a moment Cassidy was connected to a young female voice on the other end. “WOR radio – sound of the future. How may I help you?”

  “Yes. Is Merle Cranston in?”

  “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Cranston is away on business.”

  Cassidy’s heart pounded. “Who is his superior?”

  “That would be Elijah Samson.”

  “All right. I’ll speak with him.”

  A pause. “Do you have an appointment to speak with Mr. Samson?”

  “No.”

  “Ma’am, Mr. Samson is the president of the network. He’s very busy. Perhaps I can connect you with someone else?”

  “No. I’ll speak with Mr. Samson. Tell him you have Cassidy Clark on the phone.”

  It sounded as though the receptionist dropped something. She recovered quickly with a flustered response. “Yes. Right away, Miss Clark. Please hold.”

  Cassidy’s breath hitched. So they did know who she was? Her plan just might work after all.

  “Thank you, Mr. Samson. I’m looking forward to it. Goodbye.”

  Cassidy hung up the phone and pinched herself before shrieking with glee.

  It had worked! It had actually worked!

  She managed to negotiate an incredible new offer for herself and Thomas. All they had to do now was go to New York to sign the paperwork to make things official. It turned out that WOR was so desperate to avoid a lawsuit and sign them that they probably would have agreed to anything. And Mr. Samson was nothing like that Cranston fellow. Mr. Samson was actually quite apologetic for Cranston’s crass tactics. He swore up and down he hadn’t authorized Cranston to even come out to Carter Ridge, let alone bully them into a lowball contract.

  Cassidy gazed at the notes she’d scribbled on the back of Thomas’s sheet music. She could scarcely believe the numbers. $10,000! That would buy Thomas’s farm back and then some. And that was just their signing bonus. They’d also receive $400 a week, plus a share of the royalties. Cassidy had never fathomed that kind of money or that they’d get a deal this sweet. These numbers far surpassed the original contract from Mr. Cranston. And Mr. Samson was willing to include Thomas and Cassidy’s music after she told them what they’d been working on together.

  Thomas was going to flip! Cassidy couldn’t wait to tell him the good news. She grabbed a bottle of red wine from the cupboard and poured two glasses, setting them on the table before returning to the icebox to see what she could rustle up. Tonight was cause for celebration.

  Cassidy jumped at the sound of smashing glass. She banged her head on the icebox as she stumbled backwards, whirling toward the noise. A brick wrapped in newspaper lay on the kitchen floor amongst pieces of shattered glass. TRAMP was written in red paint across a photograph of her peeking out of the cottage window in nothing but her blanket. The headline read: Radio’s Secret Starlet Uncovered.

  Laugher and screeching wheels filled the air and Cassidy rushed to the door in time to see a car speeding down the driveway.

  “Is that all you got!” Cassidy screamed after them with the brick still in her hand. She dashed outside wishing she possessed the ability to hurl it right back through their windshield.

  Cassidy shivered in the driveway catching her breath. Suddenly she missed the snow. It had kept the reporters and lookyloo’s at bay for the past few days. But she’d better get used to it. Once she and Thomas signed the contract they’d be in for more of this mockery. She still didn’t quiet understand the public’s fascination with their personal lives. But if it gave her a life with Thomas—one where he didn’t have to give up the things he loved—she could deal with it.

  She turned to go back inside only to find Mr. Cranston in her path.

  “Hello, dear.”

  Fear rippled through Cassidy. Even though they hadn’t met, she knew it was Cranston from his snide voice and oily smile. And she recognized his car, which he’d pulled suspiciously past the cottage. She hadn’t noticed it when she rushed outside. She was sure that wasn’t an accident. He’d probably arranged for the brick throwers himself. It was a distraction so he could get to her.

  “What do you want?” she hissed not taking another step closer.

  “I came here to collect my contract,” he purred sauntering toward her. “And you.”

  “Stay away from me or I’ll shove this where the sun doesn’t shine,” Cassidy warned wielding the brick.

  “Such filthy words from such a lovely mouth.”

  She glared at him and he had the sense to stop advancing.

  “That mouth will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams,” he crooned. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Cassidy loathed the entitled way Cranston was looking at her. It reminded her of her stepfather and she shivered. “I’ll make my own fortune. And you won’t see a penny of it.”

  Cranston loosed a rasping laugh.

  Cassidy smiled sweetly. “I hope you still have your sense of humor after you speak to Mr. Samson.”

  Cranston’s features slacked, and for a moment he seemed void of all emotion. When he recovered, the menacing look that fixed itself on his face made Cassidy’s blood run cold. She didn’t have to say another word. Somehow, just by mentioning Mr. Samson’s name, Cranston knew Cassidy had bested him. But from the growl he loosed she knew he wasn’t about to let it go.

  Run! Every instinct in her body screamed to run. So she did.

  Cranston stood between her and the front door, so Cassidy darted around the house, sprinting for the back door. She could hear Cranston bellowing behind her. His rasping breath and stout physique spoke of a sedentary lifestyle. Cassidy gauged the distance between her and the back door. She gambled that she could outrun him.

  The sun and thaw made the ground slick. Mud kicked up behind Cassidy as she ran, hindering her speed. But the back of the house was in sight. She kept running until she slammed into the backdoor, her heart hammering. But one twist of the handle told her what she’d been dreading. The door was locked.

  Shit!

  She whirled in panic. Her heart plummeted when Cranston rounded the corner. He zeroed in on the fear in her eyes and laughed maniacally as he picked up a log from the firewood pile and lumbered toward her—his intensions perfectly clear.

  He was going to kill her!

  Cassidy turned her back to the door and rammed her elbow into the glass over and over until it shattered. She shoved her hand through the jagged glass, tearing her skin without care as she fumbled with the lock. Finally it turned and she flung herself through the door. Locking it was futile but she did it anyway. Then jammed a chair under the handle as Cranston’s violent face appeared.

  He laughed and shouldered the door. The frame groaned but the lock held, for now. It would only be a matter of time before he got in. Cassidy’s mind spun, searching for options. Her thoughts narrowed on the shotgun resting against the wall by the front door. The bullets were in the pantry on the top shelf. She couldn’t reach them without a chair. She calculated the risk. Would she have enough time to reach the bullets and load the shotgun before Cranston busted his way in? If she failed she’d only
be putting a weapon in his hands.

  The sound of wood splintering made her decision. Cranston was using a piece of firewood as a battering ram. He’d be inside in moments. The shotgun wasn’t an option. Cassidy was out of time. She lunged for the knife block, putting the kitchen island between her and the raging man who had just smashed his way into the kitchen. Cranston smiled viciously. Cassidy raised her hands, wielding a knife in each.

  Cassidy knew she was outmatched, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Not now, when she finally had something to fight for. There were twelve knives in the block. Only six of them could do real damage. But she only needed one to hit true. She could do this. Or at least she’d die trying. She’d hunted enough small game in her day. This would be no different—just a larger, uglier target.

  Cranston sized her up and laughed at the knives. She didn’t hesitate. The blade left her hand with a flick of her wrist. Cranston barely had time to deflect it with the log he still held.

  “Bitch!” he screamed.

  But Cassidy relished the fact that she’d wiped that slimy grin from his face. He was scared. She threw again. But she’d lost her element of surprise. Cranston knew what to expect now. And Cassidy couldn’t get passed his damn log.

  Cranston held the wood like a shield as he took a step toward her. Cassidy gripped her last knife, preparing herself. Then, suddenly Cranston stopped—fear flooding his eyes. The room filled with deadly silence and then the dull click of metal—the sound of a gun being cocked.

  It’s not loaded, she reminded herself, too scared to take her eyes off of Cranston to see what crony he’d hired as back up.

  A low voice sliced through the tension.

  “I’m going to give you to the count of three to get in your car and get the hell out of here before I shoot.”

  Thomas! It was Thomas!

  Cassidy’s heart sang. She wanted to drop the knife and leap into his arms. But she fought her instincts, staying rooted to the spot—leaving the game of cat and mouse to Thomas and Cranston. She was sure the gun wasn’t loaded. And Thomas had to know that, but he held it with such menace that she doubted Cranston would even think to call Thomas’s bluff.

  Cranston stuttered over himself. “It’s not what you think. I—’”

  “One . . .” Thomas’s voice like poison as he crept closer to Cassidy, leaving Cranston a straight path to the front door.

  Cranston swallowed hard.

  “Two . . .” Thomas hissed.

  “I’d run if I were you,” Cassidy crooned weighing the last knife in her hands. “I’m good with a knife, but he’s better with a gun.” She grinned. “Thomas,” she murmured never taking her eyes off Cranston. “Twenty dollars says I can gut him before you get a shot off.”

  “You’re on,” Thomas purred leveling the shotgun.

  Cranston threw the log at them and sprinted out the front door. To his credit he kept it together, even when he slipped in the mud before managing to get his fat ass into his car.

  Cassidy moved the moment Cranston was out the door. She went straight to the pantry dragging a chair with her and grabbing the box of ammo. She chucked it to Thomas, who loaded the chamber and walked out the front door without a word.

  Chapter 38

  Thomas

  The sound of the gunshot tore through the air. Thomas missed on purpose, but just barely. He watched as Cranston’s car fishtailed wildly down the drive. Thomas loaded another shell and took aim, following the car in his sights. He quieted his rage as he focused. Cranston’s balding head was directly in range. Thomas wanted so badly to pull the trigger. But he wouldn’t kill Cranston. Not on purpose anyway. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t scare the shit out of him. Thomas wanted to make him feel as terrified as Thomas had been when he saw Cranston’s car at the cottage—knowing Cassidy was alone with him. And what Thomas saw when he entered the cottage . . . it would haunt him forever. Cassidy defending herself from that filth . . . Thomas shook his head and narrowed his focus. Maybe he would shoot to kill.

  Cassidy’s voice broke his concentration. She spoke softly behind him. “He’s not worth it.”

  Thomas breathed deeply.

  Cassidy’s voice was closer now. “It’s over. He can’t get to us now.”

  Thomas closed his eyes, for a moment imagining the satisfaction of blowing Cranston’s head off. Then he sighed and lowered the gun. When he turned to survey Cassidy, she was still holding the knife, blood dripped down her arm, staining the mud-spattered skirt of her pretty green dress. But he’d never seen her look more beautiful. Her eyes glowed like sapphires in the sunlight.

  “Are you hurt?” Thomas asked.

  “No, it looks worse than it is.”

  Thomas dropped the shotgun and closed the small space between them. He fell to his knees at Cassidy’s feet and buried his face into her slender waist, wrapping his arms around her. “Jesus H. Christ, Cassidy. When I saw you with him—”

  “Shhh . . .” she soothed, running her hands through his hair. “It’s all right. I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Thomas couldn’t stop shaking. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Never,” she whispered. “You’ll never lose me.”

  He clutched at her injured arm, studying the jagged scrapes that had torn through her flawless skin. Cold rage slithered through his veins. “Did he do this to you?”

  “No. The door. It was locked. I had to smash the window.”

  Thomas traced his fingers over her ravaged skin, tears in his eyes. How had he let this happen? He should have been here. Should have never left her. He looked up into Cassidy’s porcelain face. She looked so fragile, but she wasn’t. Somehow everything she’d been through in her life had made her stronger, unbreakable. She was divine perfection and Thomas knew he would be lost without her. She meant everything to him and he didn’t want to waste another second without her knowing it.

  Thomas fished a small heart-shaped box from his jacket pocket. It was covered in deep blue velvet, almost the exact color of Cassidy’s eyes. He cracked it open to reveal the modest engagement ring he’d bought in town with a small portion of the sale of his farm.

  Cassidy gasped.

  Thomas was already on his knees as he gazed up into her ocean blue eyes. He took her hand. “Cassidy Clark, you came into my life and turned it upside down. You taught me what it means to live, to love,” he laughed. “And sometimes you scare the hell out of me. But what scares me most is the thought of spending one more second without you knowing how completely I love you. Will you please quiet my restless heart and say you’ll marry me? Because I don’t think I can live without you.”

  “Yes!” Cassidy yelped leaping into Thomas’s arms and bowling him over onto the soggy grass. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she squealed as she peppered him with kisses.

  “I’m sorry? Was that a yes?” he teased.

  “I love you, Thomas Crain. Now take me inside so I can show you the many ways.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Thomas untangled himself from Cassidy long enough to sling the shotgun over his shoulder and then scoop her back into his arms. He kissed her passionately as he walked back toward the cottage.

  Thomas paused at the threshold. “Are you ready to start our lives together, Miss Clark?”

  “I think you mean Mrs. Crain,” she said coyly.

  Mrs. Crain. Thomas never knew a name could bring him such joy. He jumped across the threshold with Cassidy in his arms. He set her down gently and kissed her like she was fresh air. Her lips stoked a fire within him, threatening to burn away the rest of world. It was an effort to resist when she tugged him toward the bedroom.

  “Come to bed with me, Mr. Crain,” she murmured.

  “Just as soon as you let me tend to your arm,” he said gazing at her vicious cuts.

  “They’re really not that bad.”

  Thomas quirked an eyebrow. “That may be so, my little knife slinger. But I prefer to be the one with the scars in this relationship
.”

  She snorted a laugh, but let Thomas lead her into the bathroom to tend to her wounds.

  “Dare I ask where you learned to throw a knife like that?” he asked as he finished bandaging her arm.

  Cassidy shrugged. “We were poor before my mother remarried. I learned to hunt. Small game mostly. Cranston was a much easier target.”

  Thomas’s vision clouded at the mention of Cranston’s name. “I can’t stand the thought of that bastard anywhere near you,” he hissed. “I hate that he came here and I wasn’t here to protect you.”

  “Shhh . . . Thomas. We’re all right,” Cassidy soothed, bringing her forehead to his. “We’re more than all right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well I have a bit of good news to share.”

  “Oh?”

  Thomas listened intently while Cassidy explained the conversation she’d had with the WOR studio head, Mr. Samson. His heart was in his throat when she told him about the new contract she’d negotiated for them. It was too good to be true. He could barely begin to wrap his mind around the salary. It was way more than the original offer! But besides all the money and incentives, Thomas couldn’t manage to understand what prompted Cassidy to change her mind about wanting to broadcast their lives. Before he’d left to sell the farm they’d been in agreement that they wanted to start a life together, without the rest of the world listening in.

  Caught up in his own doubts, Thomas barely registered the contract details Cassidy was listing. That was until she said an obscene number that pulled him from his thoughts.

  “You can’t be serious,” Thomas gaped.

  “I am. With that signing bonus we’ll have more than enough to buy your farm back.”

  Thomas just stared at Cassidy, unable to unstick his mind from the insane amount of money within their grasp.