by Lora Leigh
That bastard had all but destroyed him over the years, but that was no excuse for what Crowe was doing to her. For hurting the innocent sweetness that had always been such a part of his fairy-girl.
“Very well,” she said softly, her back still to him. “I’ll play the game.” But when she turned around, the pain that had filled her eyes was gone. The weariness pushed away. Staring back at him was just … emptiness.
An emptiness he swore he’d see replaced, soon, with heat.
As soon as Wayne was dead.
“I won’t let him hurt you again, Amelia,” he vowed. That vow was all he had left to give her until the bastard was out of both their lives.
* * *
“I swear, I’ll never let him hurt you again.”
Somewhere inside her soul a scream was echoing. Her entire spirit felt wounded, and Amelia had no idea how to make the pain stop.
“You didn’t let him hurt me the first time,” she said, her voice distant. “That was my choice, Crowe. Just as it’s my choice this time. Remember that.”
As his eyes began to narrow on her she turned away from him and slowly opened the front door.
She was exhausted. It took everything she had just to survive this chaotic storm of anger, pain, and memories. She couldn’t deal with him, couldn’t deal with the guilt and hunger he added.
“You should leave now.” He had to leave, before she completely shamed herself and begged him, pleaded with him—
“Amelia.” The warning tone of his voice had her back and shoulders straightening.
“You will leave. Now. I said I’d play the game, Crowe. But only the game. Once you’ve decided the rules, then come find me. Until then, get the hell out of my life.”
She didn’t like the smile that curled his lips or the blatant promise that filled his gaze.
“I’ll do that, for tonight.” She had a feeling his agreement had very little to do with her demand. “Be ready tomorrow, sugar elf. Because bright and early, you’ll have the rules. But once this game is over, all bets are off.”
Without explaining the statement he left the house.
The second he cleared the door, Amelia closed it behind him, locked it firmly, and set the alarm.
Moving hurt, but she forced herself up the stairs to the balcony. Stepping outside she collected the key she’d always left hidden for Crowe before stepping back into her room and locking the door behind her.
She’d tried.
She’d tried so hard to ensure that Wayne didn’t carry out his threat to have Crowe arrested and imprisoned when he’d learned she’d helped Crowe destroy the files seven summers before. At the same time, she’d placed herself in danger more times than she could count by ensuring he could never again build another case against the Callahans. And all the while, she’d lived with the horrifying fear that Wayne or, God forbid, the monster trying to destroy the Callahans, would learn her greatest secret.
Instead, she had begun to suspect the most horrific evil she could have imagined. And it had all begun with the lie she had overhead Wayne telling Archer Tobias. The lie that he had no personal involvement with Amory Wyatt.
Six days later she learned the truth of the monster he was.
Amelia had begun following her father the night she’d overheard him deny knowing anything more about Amory than his identity. That night, she’d waited and watched as Amory slipped into the house, then she’d tried to follow them after they left.
She’d tracked their movements in a journal and took pictures with the small field camera she’d bought.
She had gone to the scenes where many of the young women who had been murdered over the years had been found, and she’d stolen and copied files of the investigations from the sheriff’s and county attorney’s offices.
But she had no more than her own gut-wrenching fear and suspicion.
She hadn’t had any evidence. All she was the knowledge Wayne had lied about his whereabouts the night Katy Winslow had been killed.
He hadn’t been at the house that night, and he hadn’t been ill as he’d told the sheriff when he was asked why he hadn’t answered his cell phone that night.
Wayne had claimed he had taken cold medicine and hadn’t heard the phone.
Somehow, though, he’d known she was following him. That she was trying to find even the smallest kernel of evidence that supported her suspicions.
How had he known what she was doing?
Was it the look on her face when he’d walked into her room and her head had jerked up from the computer?
Had she looked as terrified as she felt when she looked up the stories of the young women whose deaths were attributed to the Slasher?
Or had he been watching her as she had been watching him?
Whichever, he’d paused, staring at her, then smiled with chilling evil. “Ah, Amelia,” he’d sighed. “And here I’d hoped to spare you.”
Amelia had to cover her lips with her hands to hold back a sob as she fought against the memories of that night.
She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to relive the hell she had visited until Amory Wyatt had carried her from the cabin and drove her to that mountain clearing below Crowe’s cabin.
She didn’t want to remember.
And now Crowe was making her remember. Even worse, he was making her agree to walk through hell for him again rather than running for the freedom she’d dreamed of.
A freedom she knew she’d never realize until Wayne was dead.
Yeah, she would play the game. And she would even play by his rules, if possible.
And when it was done, she wondered, would she be free of the past, and the memories? Would she be free of them or would she only create another nightmare she didn’t want to face when morning came?
Amelia had a feeling she was only going to create another nightmare.
Especially if Wayne had his way. Or if—God forbid—he learned the one secret she would give her life to keep hidden away just a little longer.
Most especially if Wayne ever learned what she had hidden from him.
CHAPTER 2
By God, he was going to kill her.
He should have killed her when he had the chance. Before she had done this to him.
Before Amelia had betrayed him.
Wayne Sorenson leaned forward, his arms braced against his stomach as panic rushed through his system and threatened to send him into a furious rage.
All his dreams were shattered.
Lifetimes, generations of searching, and he had lost it all.
He watched as the cavern beneath Crowe Mountain was breached, the artificial wall his ancestor had created to hide the legacy he and his son had amassed over the years turned to brittle stone and dust. And inside, a fortune of gold, jewels, and priceless artifacts gleamed dully beneath the cameras’ light.
Found.
A week after Wayne’s partner and then his daughter had betrayed him, and now, the Callahans had it all. They’d taken everything.
His dreams.
The dreams of Clavern Mulrooney’s direct descendants had fallen into the hands of the hated Callahans. The descendants of the bastards who had stolen the land and murdered the captain and his son before their fortune could be reclaimed.
Where was the fairness in this?
“Ms. Sorenson, do you have a statement? Your father hasn’t been found yet, nor has his partner. Do you think they’re watching?” A whimper escaped Wayne’s lips at the journalists’ excited questions as he watched the attention shift from the fortune to those watching the revelation.
His precious daughter.
She stared back at the cameras, satisfaction gleaming in her turquoise gaze as she addressed the journalists.
“Wayne’s watching,” she said with a tight smile as she stared back at him through the television screen. “He won’t be able to help himself. And I hope he knows this ends it. It’s over, Wayne,” she stated softly. “And you lost.”
The camera turned from her to
one of the journalists who somberly nodded as he faced the camera’s eye once again and gestured back to the once hidden cave with a jerk of his head. “The treasure, as per an agreement with the state of Colorado as well as the federal government, will be split with fifty percent going to the Callahans for the generations of persecution by Wayne Sorenson and his ancestors. The Callahans will place the treasure in a museum that will be created on the coming resort property Avalanche, which will be overseen by the Callahan family. The other fifty percent will be auctioned off to benefit the families of the young women murdered by Wayne Sorenson and his partners, Thomas Jones, Lowry Berry, and Amory Wyatt…” Excitement suddenly transformed the journalist’s expression. “And here’s the spokesperson for the Callahan family, Crowe Callahan. Mr. Callahan.” Microphones were suddenly thrust into Crowe’s face as more than one journalist now vied for position. “Mr. Callahan, do you have a statement? What would you tell Wayne Sorenson if he were here at the moment?”
Wayne watched as Crowe reached out and drew Amelia to him. Lights were suddenly exploding as Amelia turned her face into his broad chest.
“What would Sorenson think of your relationship with his daughter?”
“Mr. Callahan, can you verify the rumors of a relationship with Ms. Sorenson stretching back to the summer she graduated from high school?”
“Mr. Callahan, can you comment on the rumors of Sorenson’s murder of his daughter’s ex-husband?”
The questions were flying, and all the while, Crowe stared back into the camera with an expression that had a scream building in Wayne’s throat.
“It’s over,” he stated, and Wayne knew the message wasn’t for the journalists or the world that would see it. “This ends it.”
He pushed through the microphones, journalists, and cameramen to make his way from the caverns that led from beneath the mountain he had always called home to the lake that lapped gently against the sheer cliff rising from the edge of its waters.
Fury rode Wayne hard as he picked up the unregistered cell phone he’d acquired from the rough table in front of him and punched in the number he knew by heart.
“Callahan,” Crowe answered immediately.
“It isn’t over,” he snarled, teeth clenched. “It isn’t over, Callahan.”
Crowe laughed.
That laughter struck at Wayne, enflamed the fury burning through him.
“Then come get me, Wayne,” he chuckled, pure amusement racing across the line. “Because it’s all mine now. The treasure you could have had if you’d just asked for it, the daughter you tormented, the town you tried to destroy. It’s all mine.”
Wayne disconnected hurriedly, the faintest hint of a click over the line assuring him the call was being traced. Pulling the device from his ear, he stared at it for a long moment, his chest heaving, fury tearing through him, before he suddenly threw it and watched it hit the wall across from him and shatter.
“It isn’t over!” he screamed in fury, jerking from his seat and pacing to the window that overlooked Sweetrock.
The hunting cabin was well hidden; he’d made sure of that. It was the only haven he had left until he could arrange his escape from the States.
And there would be no escape until Crowe Callahan suffered. Not until Amelia lay dead and bleeding while Wayne watched that bastard take his last breath.
It wasn’t over.
They had committed the ultimate sin of stealing the last dream Wayne could cling to. And he had committed the sin of infecting his daughter with his filthy touch.
It wasn’t over …
A smile curled at his lips, his gaze narrowing as he considered one last play he could make. It was iffy, he admitted, but workable. It was a last-resort maneuver, but he needed a miracle at the moment. And he’d planned for just that to aid his escape. Instead, he’d use it to aid the Callahans’ destruction. Yes, it just might work.
Three days later
It was almost over.
That mantra had been all that had kept Crowe from going insane over the past ten days.
It was almost over.
Now it truly was almost over.
The discovery of the cache of pirate gold and lost treasures in the Colorado mountains had stunned not just the Callahans, but the country. Televising the moment the cavern was breached and allowing the world, allowing Wayne, to see it first, had accomplished his aim, but in a way that, Crowe admitted, he hadn’t expected.
He’d expected Wayne to come after him, not the actual treasure as it lay under close guard in a secure safe room at the offices of Brute Force.
That one, he’d surprised Crowe with.
Surprise or no surprise, Crowe had been waiting for him. The son of a bitch hadn’t even made it out of town before Crowe was on his ass in the powerful sports car his partner had loaned him. Just in case the need to chase Wayne to ground arrived. Now, maneuvering the powerful little car as it headed into the mountains, Crowe could see the end in sight.
Sirens blasted from behind as the sheriff followed closely, racing behind Crowe’s and Wayne Sorenson’s vehicles while a news helicopter tracked the chase.
The car Ivan Resnova had loaned Crowe took each curve beautifully, hugging with expert precision. Crowe couldn’t have asked for a more powerful ultra-performance vehicle to race through Corbin Pass and torment the other man with his inability to lose him.
The three vehicles were heading up the winding, dangerous pass road that wound its way up Callahan Peak, then continued to Aspen. The former county attorney was taking the sharp bends as though they were child’s play in a tan sedan that had obviously been equipped with a hell of a motor.
Crowe knew Corbin Pass and Callahan Peak well. He knew better than to drive this road at the speeds they were currently clocking, but he’d be damned if he’d let Wayne get away now.
“Son of a bitch,” Crowe muttered as his borrowed sports car held the curves at ridiculous speeds while the car ahead of him nearly slid over the side of the mountain at the sharpest angle in a turn.
That sedan wasn’t going to hold itself on the road for long unless the other man slowed down significantly.
“Call from Sorenson, Wayne,” the feminine tone of the Bluetooth announced over the earbud. “Accept or deny?”
God how he wanted to reject that call.
“Accept,” Crowe finally barked.
As though anything he could say or do could ever make a difference at this point.
“What do you want, Sorenson?” Crowe growled when the call connected.
“Should I prepare a list?” Wayne asked, his voice calm, sad, despite the effort Crowe knew it was taking to control that damned vehicle.
“Forget your list, Wayne,” Crowe said, fury and cold, hard mercilessness spreading inside him. “If you survive this mountain then you’ll still have to deal with me. And you know what I’m going to do.”
“Kill me?” Amusement laced Wayne’s tone. “So sorry to disappoint you, Crowe. Well, perhaps I’m not. But I can’t allow you that pleasure, though I very much hope that should I indeed go over one of these cliffs, I’ll have the pleasure of taking you with me. Too bad Amelia isn’t here as well.”
“Keep hoping, asshole,” Crowe drawled, ignoring his mention of Amelia. “It’s not going to happen.”
A hard breath echoed over the phone.
“Every time I see you, I see your mother, do you know that?” Wayne asked, his voice hollow. “All the fury of a woman betrayed mixed with the disbelief, horror, and shattered trust that comes when you believe a true friend was the one to steal the hopes and dreams harbored in your soul. That was my Kimmy as her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembled, and she begged for the life of that whimpering brat she held to her heart.”
His mother, Crowe thought. The son of a bitch had killed his own parents and his cousins’ parents during one of the worst blizzards to ever rage in the area twenty-four years ago. All that had saved the newborn Kimberly Callahan held in her arms had been he
r pleas and some demented emotion the bastard had felt for her before her marriage.
Crowe clenched his teeth, forcing himself to listen, hating the bastard, but knowing the confession in the recorded call would be all they needed if Wayne somehow survived.
“I thought baby Sarah Ann would ease my pain,” he continued, speaking of the infant sister Crowe had believed was dead for so many years. “I knew she would be the image of her mother, and she is. But I never really see the heart and soul of my Kimmy in her.”
Silence filled the line.
“Are you there, Crowe?” Wayne asked softly.
Crowe didn’t answer, only clenched his hands tighter on the steering wheel.
“Yes, you’re there. I can feel the fury, and hatred. The pain,” Wayne said.
Crowe’s teeth were locked tight, clenched to hold back the rage building inside him.
Clenched so tight that his jaw felt as though it might crack.
“It wasn’t Sarah Ann that held her mother’s heart and fire, though. It was you, Crowe. I think that’s why I couldn’t kill you in all these years. I couldn’t kill your cousins, either. Kill them and you might actually leave. You might turn your back on everything here and never return. It took me until last night to realize why I hadn’t killed you. That’s why I couldn’t do as I planned and just kill you after—”
Silence.
* * *
Crowe had to laugh.
It was a bitter, furious sound as he rounded another hard curve and watched the back end of the sedan fishtail again, dangerously, before righting itself.
“You can’t even say it, can you, Wayne?”
Wayne snarled back at him.
“Then allow me. After you put a fucking bullet straight through my mother’s heart and killed her in cold blood—”
“Never!” Wayne suddenly raged furiously. “God no, Crowe. Never. I had already killed the others, even her precious David. I was blind with rage and jealousy. I had to make myself finish it. I had gone too far.”
“You didn’t have to do it,” Crowe snarled. “You didn’t have to kill any of them.”
“They knew!” Wayne screamed. “You don’t understand! Somehow they found out about everything. My past, my wife’s death. The location of the treasure. They knew it all and they wouldn’t even tell me where it was. I had to kill them before they made it to Sweetrock and the Corbins. They would have destroyed me.”