by Peg Brantley
She slipped a knife from the storage block and moved to the wall that separated the kitchen from the family room. She strained to hear any sounds over the pounding of her heart.
Someone cleared his throat.
Jamie edged to the doorway and looked into the softly lit room. A man was sitting casually in one of the chairs by the fireplace, completely at ease.
Andrew.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Hello, Jamie.” Smooth. Calm. Regal. A royal holding court.
Memories of his abuse crowded her mind and she shook her head. “Andrew, what are you doing here? How did you get in?” She gripped the knife, hard.
“First of all, as usual, you misunderstand my intent.” He used to always tell her she had failed to realize his intent. Then again, it was hard to miss the intent behind his fist, or behind his constant, demoralizing comments. He had treated her like someone with sub-par intelligence for so long that near the end she had almost believed him.
“I understand that you broke into my home; I understand that you are now sitting in my family room, drinking my wine and generally assaulting my life.” Jamie willed her heart to slow.
“Well, as usual, you’re missing a lot of salient points.”
“By salient point, do you mean not calling the police? Because if that’s the salient point you think I’m missing, I’m about to correct it.”
“I did not break into your home. The key was where you have always left it, beneath the third rock from the door.” Andrew sat back in the chair and placed his feet up on the table. “To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you haven’t figured out another hiding place.”
Jamie felt her face grow hot. She had locked her house this morning only because of the vandalism last night. She had never been a reason to lock the doors. McKenzie stood next to her, a low growl in his throat. Did Andrew wreck my shed? It didn’t sound like something he would do, but over the years he’d twisted her up in so many knots she wouldn’t put it past him.
Jamie spat a question at him: “How long have you been in Aspen Falls? Were you here last night?”
“Were you dreaming about me again? Missing our intimate moments?”
She closed her eyes against the horrible memories flooding her mind: the ropes, the duct tape, the box cutter, her shame. She didn’t trust herself to speak. McKenzie’s growl grew louder. To protect him, she plucked him off the ground.
“I’m sitting in your family room, that’s true,” Andrew said. “And let me say you’ve done a wonderful job bringing sophistication and casualness together in an ambiance that paints an intriguing picture of Jamie Stanton.”
“Taylor. Not Stanton.” She hated the way her words came out in a whisper. She set Mckenzie down.
“Ah, Jamie,” Andrew said. “You’ll always be Stanton to me, but I digress.”
Andrew inspected her, his gaze traveling up and down her body. “Do you remember our home? The one in Limon? You’ve come a long way in your decorating skills. Our place always looked like hell.”
“Limon is where you took me to separate me from my family,” Jamie said. “Where you could do whatever you wanted to me and I’d have nowhere to run.” Jamie began to tremble as old fear and new anger bubbled to the surface.
He picked up the wine glass and tilted it to his nose. “I am also drinking your wine,” he said, disregarding her as he’d always done. “But it occurs to me that you became proficient in wine under my tutelage. So perhaps this is a wine we have shared?”
Jamie clenched her jaw and rolled the knife handle in her hand.
“And, dear Jamie, with regard to assaulting you? That is precisely why I’m here.”
She gripped the handle, hoping that the manufacturer’s promise of balance would apply to self-defense moves. She waited for him to continue.
He cleared his throat and moved to get up. “Do you mind if I get some more? This is really extraordinary wine. I’m quite impressed.”
Jamie looked over at the open bottle. If he wanted more he could get it himself.
Andrew got up and poured himself more wine, then turned to face her. “You’ve matured a bit since we were together. In a good way, of course.” He looked at her with admiration, and maybe a little of something else. “Did I have anything to do with it?”
Jamie continued to stare. He didn’t deserve to know anything about any changes. They were hers, not his. The pain that had led her to those changes was hers, not his. He gave her the gift of that pain, but she had applied it and grown from it.
He settled back in the chair. The refreshed wine glass in one hand, he fingered one of the afghans her mother had made with his other hand.
Something twisted in her heart to see him touch the familiar pattern, the yarn that once had slid through her mother’s fingers. He was touching love that had nothing to do with him, love he could never understand.
“Your mom left some beautiful things behind when she died.” He looked at her. “Including you.”
“I’m calling the police,” Jamie said and moved back into the kitchen.
In the time it takes a bully to recognize a bigger threat, Andrew appeared at her side.
“I’m sorry, Jamie. I handled this all wrong.”
Andrew? Saying he’s sorry? Jamie froze, her hand reaching toward the phone. In all of the years she’d known Andrew Stanton, he’d never uttered anything close to a sincere apology, or even a fake one. She spun around to look at the man she’d once loved.
He was still almost unbearably handsome, and even the lines around his eyes looked distinguished. A few more flecks of gray were apparent in his curly hair, but it remained thick and luxurious, somewhere between tousled and perfect.
“You still manage to bring out the worst in me,” Andrew said.
Jamie had always been drawn to Andrew’s hands, and her gaze tugged away from his face to search for the hands she used to love to watch, to feel on her body, to kiss.
But those beautiful hands also had inflicted pain, with intent and with great force. Those beautiful hands had taken a box cutter to her one night after he’d raped her. She pulled the knife in her hands up in front of her at the same time she saw the wedding ring on his finger.
Andrew followed her gaze. “I wondered how long it would take you to notice.” He took the knife from her grip and slipped it back into the wooden storage block.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The words came out of Andrew’s mouth like butter that morphed to acid as they knifed and burned into her heart. “My wife is everything you could never be, Jamie.” It was a familiar talent her ex-husband had perfected long ago.
She backed against a countertop, hating the fact he held this much power over her after all this time. Her hands shook and her legs began to tremble. She crossed her arms and held tight.
“Amanda is delicate. Fragile. She appreciates everything I do for her, Jamie. She knows how to handle herself in social situations and knows who the head of our household is. Unlike you.”
Anger finally pushed her paralyzing fear aside. “Why are you here? Tell me now, Andrew, or I will call the police.”
“We both know they couldn’t possibly get here in time to make any kind of a difference.” He moved to her kitchen desk and began thumbing through things at random. Bills, correspondence, ads she’d pulled for home improvements, recipes she wanted to try. “I came in person because this is the one way I know I can make you comprehend the importance of the circumstances in which I find myself. I’m sure you’ll think of it as my need to control, but really, I just need to assure myself that you understand completely.” He shoved the neat stacks haphazardly around the desk.
“Actually, Amanda has one other very important asset: her father. He’s quite wealthy, and my wife is his only child. Amanda is a bit spoiled, Jamie, but she’s also well trained. She’s such a relief compared to you. And, well... the money has a way of holding my attention, if you know what I mean.” Andrew laughed, then turned to face her.
“My father-in-law wants me to hold political office. So do I. I’m intrigued with the notion of power and influence. I think I’ll handle it extremely well. And given enough time in politics, should I grow weary of marriage, there might be some attractive alternatives. Time will tell.” His voice dropped off and he went back to poking around in the detritus of her life that just this morning had seemed so important. “I’m here, Jamie, because there will be someone contacting you as part of a check on my background. My father-in-law and his friends are not going to want to pour millions of dollars into my campaign without proper vetting. I need you to be very clear on what your answers will be.”
“He’s checking you out now? Why didn’t he check you out before you married his daughter?”
“Oh, he did, believe me, but he didn’t go very deep. I know all the right people, I make an extremely good living, and I don’t have a record.”
Yeah. Thanks to paying off all the right people in a small town.
“This is the big time, with big stakes involved. There’s no doubt in my mind that someone will find you and want to know about our marriage and our divorce. I need to know whether I can rely on you.”
“Or what? What will you do to me, Andrew, if I tell the truth?”
He slipped his hand into a pocket and in one smooth movement pulled out a switchblade and popped it open. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. I was afraid that might be your position. You see? You never could learn—”
Suddenly three ferocious canines were barking and drooling, hackles up, ready to attack. Andrew backed away but whipped the knife back and forth in front of him.
“Heel! Heel!” Jamie felt panic rising. Andrew wouldn’t hurt her, not as long as she had a weapon nearby—he didn’t like pain—but she didn’t want any of her dogs injured.
The air grew thick, infused with a combination of deep, sharp barks, all of which signified intent and focus on the threat. Jamie yelled again, but she’d lost command.
Just as Andrew grabbed her and slammed her face-first against the wall with enough force that her nose popped, as if through a tunnel Jamie heard the sound of splintering. Someone kicking-in the door. Blood poured down her chin as Andrew held her firmly against the wall. She opened her mouth to breathe.
The ferocious vocals from Gretchen, Socrates and McKenzie quelled to menacing snarls as they made contact. Gretchen and Socrates each claimed an arm, and McKenzie, even with the plastic bucket on his head, sank his teeth into one of Andrew’s ankles.
His breath hot on Jamie’s neck, Andrew hissed, “Call them off! Now!”
Blood splattered the wall as Jamie yelled, “Heel!” Andrew pressed her against the wall again. Gretchen was the first to drop back. Socrates and McKenzie, when they realized they had one fewer dog in the hunt with them, also backed away.
A harsh voice came from the doorway. “Drop the knife! Drop it now or I’ll shoot!”
Andrew both jerked his head to look at the doorway. A man dressed in steel-gray slacks, a cashmere sweater and a leather jacket was standing among the debris. His pistol was pointed directly at Andrew. In his other hand were some flowers.
Teague had arrived for their dinner.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thirty minutes later, Jamie’s house contained enough people to be Party Central, but without the music. It definitely was not the evening Jamie had envisioned. Andrew had been placed under arrest, but she knew he’d post bail at the first opportunity. Teague had taken a low profile after talking to the sheriff. She didn’t blame him for trying to sit out all of this chaos.
Would he ever call again? She wasn’t sure that she would call if she were in his shoes.
She thought about the gun. A lot of people possessed guns for self-protection, especially if they travelled for business. At the end of the day Jamie experienced no distress in the fact that Teague carried, just relief that he did and that he had been ready to use it.
Ciara and her two gorgeous standard poodles, Bella and Sophia, arrived first. The model, on her way to Aspen when Jamie called her, had just passed the turnoff to Jamie’s house. Sheriff Coble arrived next with two deputies, followed by Ellen and her new beau and yellow lab, Sam. Jax and Phil came in right after Ellen, though Phil begged off for an important meeting. He took Jax’s car with him and left his wife behind. A couple of neighbors who lived in homes closer to town also dropped by. They had witnessed the procession of speeding vehicles, and had come to make sure Jamie hadn’t been killed by an axe murderer.
The sheriff made a phone call and someone was on his way to secure the front entryway of her house. She’d call her insurance agent the next morning. She suspected they would not be happy to hear from her again so soon even though they hadn’t had to pay for the shed.
Jamie explained to Teague that the man who had attacked her was her ex-husband.
She knew that had Teague not been there, she would have let Andrew leave. Jamie hated the cowardice her ex continued to inspire in her and vowed to change.
Jamie gave her statement to Jerry Coble, who said his deputies would be back at first light to check out the damage to her house. She wouldn’t need to stick around in the morning for them to complete the report. They’d call her at the bank if they had any questions.
In the meantime, the sheriff would make sure a deputy drove by her home at regular intervals for the rest of the evening. Someone would call her when Andrew posted bail.
When the uniforms left, an almost palpable cleansing breath came from everyone still in the house. Ellen thought to put Jamie’s food in the fridge. There would be no pork loin tonight. She’d stashed a couple of pizzas in the freezer for emergencies, and figured if tonight didn’t count, nothing would. She turned the oven on and pulled them out to place on her pizza pans.
Ciara came up behind her. “Is your new friend staying the night?”
Jamie shook her head, too tired to pretend to be offended at her friend’s question. “He has a ten o’clock flight out of Aspen.”
“Then Bella, Sophia and I will stay with you. No way you’re going to be way out here all by yourself.”
“I have my crew.” Even as she mentioned her three protectors, Jamie knew she’d appreciate some two-legged company for the evening.
“Well, your crew is now expanded by three.”
“Thanks, Ciara.”
Ellen joined them. “Make that five. Hank and I are bedding down here too.” She bent down to scratch behind Hank’s ear.
“What about, um... Agent....”
“Arnold. Arnold Abner. I know, his name confuses me, too.” Ellen smiled. “He’s headed back to Denver tonight anyway, so Hank and I are all yours. And we’re not taking no for an answer. Besides, Hank misses the company of your crew.”
“You know I love you guys, and I’m not gonna turn you down. We’ll have one of our sleepovers. A pajama party.”
Ciara looked at her and winked. “Ellen might need to borrow some PJs, but I don’t use them.”
Ellen said, “We know. We know.”
Ciara smiled and batted her impossibly long eyelashes.
Teague walked into the kitchen.
“Um, do you mind?” Jamie’s vision remained fixed on her personal hero as she asked her friends to give them some privacy.
Alone, Teague took both her hands. “I can cancel my flight if you need me to.”
“You’ve done enough. Nothing more is going to happen tonight, and Ellen and Ciara will be here to keep me company.” She took a step closer to him. “I’m sorry about our dinner plans.”
Teague took her face in his hands and kissed her. “No one is more sorry than I, Jamie, but we’ll make up for it on next week, I promise.”
With that, Teague Blanton moved up a notch on Jamie’s emotional ladder. He made her feel safe, treasured.
Less than an hour later, Jamie, together with her sister, two girlfriends and six dogs, were sitting in front of a blazing fire, the only sign of drama the boarded-up entry into her home
, which thankfully they couldn’t see.
Soon all of their eyelids began drooping as the adrenaline gave way to exhaustion. Jamie struggled to remain vigilant. These women are here to support me. She didn’t believe Andrew would return, but apparently he remained as unpredictable as ever. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if one of them was hurt because of her. She went to the kitchen and put some heat under the kettle that always sat on her stove. She’d become fond of an afternoon fix of tea, hot chocolate, or Starbucks instant coffee, so she kept the kettle on hand. She readied a teabag in a cup and moved to look out through the French doors leading to her deck. The full moon lit the area with luminous silver light.
Was Andrew responsible for the vandalism of my shed? She shook her head, unable to think of any rational reason for him to threaten her in that way even though McKenzie’s response left little doubt. Destruction of her property was not likely to entice her to give him a favorable review should she get a call regarding his background. Where would he run? Is he standing out there now, watching me? Ready to get to me when he knows I’m alone?
The landscape off her deck was familiar. She knew exactly where every rock was, where the Indian paintbrush would bloom and where the columbine flourished every summer. She knew where the deer were likely to graze and where they took refuge from the heat. She had carved out a piece of the Rocky Mountains and she knew it intimately. It had remained untouched by the cruelty of the outside world until now.
A movement caught her eye, a shifting of shadow, then stealth. She studied the shape. A bear? No. A man.
She turned off all the lights, even the ones she generally left on so she wouldn’t step on a rawhide bone in the middle of the night. The interior plunged to black stains, elongated by the moonlight. Jamie stood in one of those stains and focused her gaze on the man who had moved from a standing position to a crouch. Something familiar about the way he holds his shoulders... the way he moves his head. Dad.