Reilly's Promise

by Christyne Butler

  Reilly smiled. “An old military friend.”

  “You thought Lou’s friend was my late husband, instead of his high school sweetheart. Pretty old-fashioned thinking, Reilly.”

  “I guess I’m an old-fashioned guy.”

  “It’s nice to know there are a few of you left in the world.” Margaret offered a soft smile and patted his hand. “The biggest regret I’ve lived with is the fact I let Louis DiMarrio walk out of my life, no matter how right it was for the both of us at the time. When we got back in touch with each other a few months ago, it was as if the years melted away.”

  Reilly pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Opening it, he took out a small white card and held it out. “This has my cell phone number on it. Call me once you know anything.”

  “You know I will.” Margaret took the card and tucked it into her pants pocket. “Have you told Cassandra anything about Lou and me, about how you came to work for me? For her? For us?”

  “Don’t you think you would know by now if I did?”

  Margaret nodded. “I was prepared to tell her everything once she asked. What with all that’s happened over the last several days…she seemed to have accepted you quite easily.”

  Reilly thought back to their heated discussion this morning in her apartment. As much as he’d wanted her to stay home and rest, he couldn’t help admiring her stubbornness. “Not as easily as you think.”

  “Cassandra has a very independent spirit, but she’s always been a trusting girl.” Margaret folded her hands and pressed her fingertips against her lips before she continued. “Telling l-lies, keeping secrets, it’s not in her nature.”

  “I’d like to think it’s not in most people’s nature. When Dig—Lou told you about me…how much detail did he go into?”

  “He told me you were someone he could trust with his life. That you would do everything in your power to protect my daughter, and you never left a man behind.”

  Reilly blinked back the raw emotion that filled him. He’d wondered why she hadn’t told her daughter about how she hired him. Why was she keeping the renewal of her relationship with her first love from her daughter? Out of respect for Cassandra’s father? Because the social circles the Van Winter women traveled in wouldn’t have welcomed a crusty, old Marine Sergeant like Louis “Digger” DiMarrio?

  Or was there more to Margaret Van Winter’s secret?

  “If you throw your cell phone at me one more time—”

  The night was pitch black. Thanks to the heavy rain pounding on the windshield, Reilly only allowed himself a quick glance at Cassandra before returning his eyes to the road. He hoped it looked as if he was unfamiliar with the narrow twists and turns of the island’s roads.

  Which wasn’t too far off the mark. It’d been over twenty years since he’d been on Nantucket Island

  “Look, you’re the one who insisted on driving out here tonight,” Reilly shot back. “We don’t have the keys to the place yet. And I didn’t throw the phone at you.”

  “The black and blue marks on my hip will prove you wrong,” Cassandra said.

  The image of her standing in front of him as he slowly pulled her jeans over slim hips to examine her skin flashed before his eyes. Reilly clenched his jaw until his teeth ached.

  “The battery is dead on my phone,” he ground out as he cracked open his window, breathing in the cold but refreshing air. “If you hadn’t dragged me out of the hotel in such a hurry I would’ve remembered to bring my charger.”

  “Don’t blame that on me. You’re the one who made about a hundred calls today, all to the same number I might add, since we crossed over the Connecticut state line.”

  “It wasn’t that many and not all were to the same number.”

  Despite calling the hospital numerous times, he still hadn’t found out anything about Dig’s condition. Thanks to the call he’d made to Rann, he had found out that a local realty office had been in charge of the upkeep of the place since that last long ago summer when he, Rann and their mother had come here. Despite the number of years that had passed, first his mother and then his half brother had made sure the house was properly looked after and maintained.

  For him.

  “Besides, how was I supposed to know this time of year is monsoon season?” Cassandra snapped, bringing Reilly out of his memory-induced fog. “It was only a sprinkle when we docked an hour ago. I thought I could take a quick peek at the grounds before it got too dark.”

  “It was dark when we got to the inn. Hell, it was dark when we got off the ferry.”

  “Hey! You weren’t invited on this little outing. The only reason you’re here is because the car keys were in your room.”

  Having already kicked off his boots, he’d been in the process of pulling off his shirt when he’d answered the adamant knocking on his door and found Cassandra standing there. His arms still tangled in the cotton fabric, he’d watched her gaze roam over him from his bare chest to his stocking feet. The bright green of her eyes darkened with an unmistakable desire, and the ever-present smoldering fire deep in his gut burned back to life.

  She’d brushed past him and demanded the keys to the rental car. Once he’d realized she was determined to get out of the inn, he’d relented and gone with her. Not that he’d minded. It had taken all his willpower not to drag her onto the four-poster, pillow-loaded bed in his room.

  “I’m supposed to be protecting you, remember?” Reilly pushed away his thoughts. “Besides, you don’t know how to get there.”

  “I can ask for directions as well as you did. It’s an island, how lost could I get?”

  “We could have waited—” He broke off as he hit the brakes the moment the car edged past a hidden driveway. Throwing the car into reverse, he backed up and turned onto the gravel-covered road. “We’re here.”

  “How do you know this is the right house?”

  “I read the street signs,” Reilly lied, hoping there was a street sign back on the main road. He slowed to a crawl, wishing he could see more of the now-familiar road, but the rain hadn’t let up at all.

  It shouldn’t be too much farther. I don’t remember the driveway being this long.

  “Geez, it really is dark out here.” Cassandra leaned forward as far as her seatbelt allowed and looked out the windshield. “Maybe we should—oh Reilly, look out!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Reilly saw the scruffy tomcat limping across the gravel road just as the car’s headlights reflected brightly in its eyes. He yanked hard on the steering wheel, and the car swerved to one side. He tried to straighten it, but the wheels caught on the soft shoulder of the road. Seconds later, they came to a hard stop in a ditch. Cassandra toppled into his shoulder before her head met the steering wheel with a sickening thud.

  “Cassandra!”

  Reilly reached for her. He cradled her face in his hands and gently turned her toward him.

  “Don’t touch—” She backed away from him. “Did…you didn’t hit the cat, did you?”

  Why didn’t she want him to touch her? Was she afraid of him? “I don’t give a damn about the cat, you’re bleeding!”

  Reilly turned on the car’s interior light and released his seatbelt. Digging into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he pulled out a neatly folded white scrap of cloth.

  “What’s that?” Cassandra moved away, her back pressed against the passenger door.

  His jaw clenched when she scooted backward. In the dim light, he saw the guarded look on her face. Reilly held out his hand as he braced one arm on the back of the seat and inched toward her. “It’s a handkerchief. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one of these before.”

  “Gee, you really are a Boy Scout, aren’t you?”

  He gently placed the folded material over the cut at her hairline, her breath soft and warm on his hand. “I never said I was trustworthy.”

  Cassandra’s eyes fluttered closed. “I trust you.”

  Her soft words slammed into Reilly’s chest, catchi
ng him off guard. It was what he wanted to hear, wasn’t it? He needed to have her trust if he was going to protect her. So why did it settle inside him with a dull thud?

  “Hey, girl, come on, stay awake.”

  “I’m awake, I’m just…my head is pounding and your yelling isn’t helping.”

  “I’m not yelling.”

  Cassandra opened her eyes and offered one finely arched brow.

  “I’m not yelling,” he repeated, softening his tone, glad she didn’t appear seriously hurt.

  “Can we get out of here? I have this overwhelming urge to crash into a pair of soft pillows.”

  Oh, no, don’t go there. Reilly forced his mind to stay away from any image Cassandra’s words could create. “Speaking of cell phones, do you have yours? We might have to call for help.”

  Cassandra looked away. “I left it back at the inn.”

  Taking her hand in his, Reilly guided it to the handkerchief to hold it in place. He then slid back behind the steering wheel. The engine was still running. That was a good thing.

  “Okay, plan B. I’m gonna try to get us out of this ditch.”

  “There’s no way you’ll get this car to move,” Cassandra protested. She settled back against the seat. “We’re at too much of an angle and with all this rain—”

  “Hold on.”

  Gunning the engine, Reilly put the car in reverse. The rear view mirror was useless with the darkness. He offered a quick prayer they wouldn’t hit anything. The car lurched, then stopped, offering nothing but the sound of spinning tires.

  “Reilly, we’re stuck. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Yes there is.” He stepped on the brake. “I can try again.”

  He pressed hard on the gas pedal again, the tires spun and the car sank deeper in the ditch. Relenting, he reset the gearshift into park while muttering every swear word in his Marine Corps vocabulary.

  This time in English.

  “Tsk, tsk…that sounds very un-Boy-Scout-worthy.”

  Reilly shot her a glance in time to see Cassandra remove the folded cloth from her forehead. “Still bleeding?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at him, holding a section of curls away from her forehead. “Is it?”

  “I think it’s stopped. Gonna have a hell of a bruise though.”

  “Not to mention a whopper of a headache.” Cassandra reached for her purse and pulled out a tiny plastic bottle. Shaking out two aspirin, she grimaced as she placed them on her tongue. “I hate doing this without water.”

  “Roll down your window,” Reilly offered.

  “Very funny. Okay, now what?”

  “Now I get soaked checking to see what we’re really dealing with, unless you’d like to see for yourself?”

  Cassandra shot him a dark look.

  “I’ll take that for a no. Can you get me the flashlight from underneath your seat, please?”

  She did as he asked. Reilly pulled his jacket zipper to his chin and turned up the collar against his face before stepping out into the downpour. Drenched before he made it to the bright twin beam headlights of the car, he crouched near the front end.

  Shining the flashlight over the tires and the six inches of mud covering them to the rims confirmed the car was in deep. Rising, he walked to the trunk and, opening it, welcomed the temporary protection from the rain. He trained the light on the inside, looking for something to use as traction for the tires, but it was empty.

  “Great, just what I need.” Reilly slammed the lid closed. Seconds later, he tapped on the passenger side window.

  The window cracked and Cassandra glared at him. “What?”

  “We’re stuck.”

  “Didn’t I already say that?”

  Reilly shone the light directly at the window. “Cassandra, get out of the car.”

  “Oh, don’t shine the light in my face! Why?”

  “Because there’s nothing I can do about the car tonight,” Reilly said, dropping the light away from the window. “I want to head back to the main road and see if we can flag down some help and no, you aren’t staying here alone.”

  “I don’t suppose you have an umbrella in here, do you?”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s why I’m standing out here soaked all the way to my—shorts.”

  He watched the window return to its closed position. Opening the door, Cassandra slid out to stand in front of him. Reilly moved closer, trying to shield her as best he could from the rain but in a matter of seconds, she was as wet as him.

  “Why don’t we go to the house instead?” she said.

  “It’s empty, remember?”

  “Well, maybe there is a neighbor close by.” She raised her voice over the rushing wind. “All we could see from the road was driveways, so I’m guessing the houses are near the water.”

  “There aren’t—” Reilly bit back his words. There hadn’t been neighbors close by twenty years ago, but maybe Cassandra had a point. “Okay, we’ll try. At least we can get out of the rain.”

  “Well, whatever we’re going to do, let’s go. I’m soaked!”

  “What’s the matter, princess?” Reilly spun her away from him. “Afraid you’re going to melt?”

  “I knew I should’ve come alone,” Cassandra shot back over her shoulder.

  Moving next to her, Reilly unzipped his jacket and wrapped it around her. Thanks to his height, it covered her head and shoulders. He pulled her tight against his side and they started moving. She wrapped her arm around his waist, and the heat of her breath warmed his skin. The wetness of her hair soaked into the thin cotton material and he swore he could feel her mouth pressed against his nipple.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said.

  “I know I don’t. How’s the ankle?”

  “I wish you’d stop harping on my ankle, its fine. I told you on the ferry—”

  “Fine, shut up and walk fast.”

  Aiming the flashlight at the pebbled driveway, Reilly quickened their pace until they reached where it formed a circle. Crossing the center ring of grass, they passed the remains of what he remembered had been his mother’s yellow rose bushes. He knew they were only a few steps away from the house. Keeping his head bent against the cold sting of rain and whipping winds, he counted off ten paces before stepping onto the low covered porch.

  Memories assaulted him the moment he flashed the light on arched glass windows gracing the front double doors. They would open wide to rest against the inside walls during the summer. The matching screen doors were designed to open like warm, welcoming arms, whenever he and Rann would run through them.

  Summertime races.

  They would start at the end of the driveway with Reilly giving his younger brother a head start. Easily catching up, he’d reach for the worn handle on one of the screen doors, flinging it wide as he ducked inside, bare feet carrying in the island’s sandy mix of dirt and grass, before it banged soundly behind him.

  Here at Heaven’s Gate there weren’t servants yelling to keep quiet. No rules to remember, like children should be seen and not heard, and no harsh punishments from his stepfather for tracking dirt into the house, playing his music too loud or letting the door slam closed behind him.

  “Reilly?”

  He heard Cassandra’s voice and struggled to pull himself out of the past. He aimed the beam of light directly on the screen doors. Closed now, a thick metal chain ran between the double handles, an industrial-strength lock keeping them in place as they rattled against the wind.

  Cassandra stepped away from the protective cover of his jacket to move directly in front of him, cutting off the light. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  Drawing in a deep, gutted breath, Reilly let his hand fall to his side, the flashlight beam now directed at the porch floor. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” Cassandra reached out to brush back the wet trails of hair from his forehead. “You’re shaking.”

  Reilly jerked his h
ead away before she could touch him. “I said I’m fine.”

  Confusion and hurt crossed Cassandra’s face. He instantly regretted the way he’d spoken to her, but he hadn’t planned on this. He hadn’t planned on twenty-two-year-old memories coming back with such clarity.

  He’d learned never to think about the few summers he’d been able to escape the hell in Texas. He’d been ten years old when they first started coming here. They’d come back every summer until he’d turned sixteen, when his stepfather demanded he earn his keep by getting a job.

  Shaking off the memories, Reilly found Cassandra still gazing at him intently. He looked away, pushed his hair out of his eyes and swung the flashlight’s beam the length of the house. The porch turned at each corner and continued around the house. The wild Atlantic Ocean was on the other side, only a few yards from where the grassy yard turned into a wide strip of sand.

  He didn’t see any other lights. “If there are any neighbors, they’re probably summer people who’ve closed for the season.”

  “W-what are we going to d-do now?”

  He turned back to find Cassandra with her arms wrapped around her middle, visibly shaking from the drenching rains. With only a light sweater, khaki pants and a leather jacket, she must be soaked to the skin. “We’re staying here.”

  “W-what? W-where?”

  “Here at the house.”

  “D-do you think it’s safe?” Cassandra said. “I mean, I know we’re f-far away from whoever’s trying—with e-everything that’s h-happened over the last few d-days…”

  Reilly looked at the darkness surrounding them. Not the ideal situation, but vigilance during the drive here and on the ferry ride told him they weren’t followed. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew every inch of this house. “We’ll be fine. We’ve got to get you out of the cold before you freeze to death. Come on, I’ll break a window.”

  Cassandra grabbed his arm. “Y-you can’t do that. This isn’t your property.”

  Reilly bit back his reply and started toward the driveway. “I’ll find a rock or something.”

  “W-wait, maybe there’s a key hidden somewhere. You know, in case a realtor needs to show the house.”