by Beth Andrews
He did. He had to let her know what she was getting herself into by being with him. Had to warn her. “What’s the matter?” he asked with a smirk. “Afraid of the truth?”
She looked so hurt, he wanted to take his words back but while he’d give her the truth, he drew the line at letting her see inside his head. His heart.
“No,” she finally said, her soft words almost drowned out by the roaring ocean. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Maybe not now, but she would be. She should be.
He rubbed his palms up and down his jeans, chose his words carefully. He had to get this right. Had to make her understand. “That night—this must’ve been three months before Dale left town for good, so I don’t know if he and your mom were together yet—he showed up demanding money. Mom refused. Told him to get out of her house and not to come back.”
Griffin had been torn between pride that she’d finally stood up to her husband and fear of what Dale would do. He’d been right to be scared.
“She refused and he hit her,” Griffin said flatly, remembering the sound of his father’s hand on his mother’s face. How she’d cried out in pain. “He slapped her so hard she fell into the wall. Then he picked her up by her hair and hit her again. And again.”
He took a long drink of his soda but it did little to soothe the rawness of his throat. “I tried to stop him,” he continued, his voice sounding far away to his own ears. “I leaped on his back, kicking and screaming and punching but he flicked me off as if I was nothing.” Had thrown Griffin off and into the door frame. He’d lain there dazed and hurt, the wind knocked out of him. Dale had loomed over him, violence and hatred on his face. “My mom screamed—I’d never heard her scream like that—and came at him like a woman possessed.”
She’d scratched and clawed at Dale, her face contorted with rage and pain but she wasn’t strong enough. Neither of them had been strong enough.
Griffin forced himself to meet Nora’s eyes, steeled himself against the tears he saw there. “I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”
Nora’s face was pale, her expression horrified. “Griffin…God…I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t you tell me you’re sorry. You have no idea what it was like.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel for that scared little boy. You were just a kid,” she continued. “You can’t blame yourself.”
He shut his eyes because she saw too much. How could she understand him so well? Rising, he crossed to the edge of the picnic area, stared out at the ocean. A minute later, she joined him, her hip brushing his outer thigh.
“My father is a liar,” he told her. “An abusive, violent bastard and a probable murderer.” He glanced at her, kept his hands in his pockets. “That’s what I come from. That’s what runs through my blood.”
That was why he shouldn’t be near her. Why he had no right to touch her. To want her.
She stepped in front of him, her hair blowing wildly, a frown marring the smoothness of her forehead. “That’s such bullshit.”
He bristled. “What?”
“I said that’s bullshit. You’re you. You’re not some…” She waved her hand in the air as if hoping the right word would land in her palm. “Clone of your father.”
“Then how come every time I look in the mirror, I see his face?” he asked harshly. “Every day I’m reminded of what I come from, of who I really am.”
“You may resemble Dale but you’re nothing like him,” she said firmly. “Nothing.”
“How do you know? How could you possibly know?”
“Because I see you. You’re honest and hardworking. You own a respectable business. You stand up for what you think is right.” She laid her hand on his chest. His heart jumped. “You’re a good man.”
He wished he could be the man she saw, someone worthy of her. But he wasn’t some freaking Prince Charming—he was flawed and carried the scars of his father’s sins.
“What if the cops never get enough evidence to charge Dale with your mother’s murder?” he asked. How would she be able to look at him if his father goes free?
“They’ll find a way.”
“I hope for your sake you’re right, but when it comes to my old man I’ve learned not to underestimate him or what he can get away with.”
“I have faith.” She stepped closer, rose onto her toes and placed a warm kiss on the corner of his mouth. Fell back to her heels and smiled. “I have faith in you, too.”
She shouldn’t. He was a bad bet. He couldn’t…wouldn’t…give her what she deserved.
But he couldn’t let her go, either.
* * *
ON THE RETURN ride to her house, with the ocean to one side of her, the setting sun to the other, Nora couldn’t stop thinking about what Griffin had told her. She should be grateful—she was grateful—he’d shared a piece of himself, a small piece of his past and his pain. But she suspected he hadn’t done it in order for them to grow closer. He hadn’t wanted her sympathy or understanding.
It’d been a warning.
Don’t try to understand me. Don’t get too close to me. Don’t fall for me.
As he slowed to take the corner to her street, she realized it was good advice. Smart advice—and she was nothing if not smart and more than capable of seeing when she was headed straight for disaster. For heartbreak.
He’d wanted to frighten her and it’d worked. She was afraid. Afraid it was too late. She was already falling for him.
He pulled the bike to a stop in front of her house and she dismounted, took off her helmet while he shut off the engine and swung off. After he set his helmet on the seat, he faced her, his gaze dark and watchful as he slowly dipped his head and took her mouth with his.
He kissed her softly, touched the tip of his tongue against hers. She’d expected heat and desire, but his lips moved over hers languidly, drugging her senses. Muddling her thoughts. Making her forget all the reasons she had to be careful around him. Why he was so dangerous to her.
Breaking the kiss, she shoved the helmet at him. “Thanks for dinner,” she blurted breathlessly. “And for the bike ride.”
Without breaking eye contact, he set the helmet aside. Stepped even closer, his knee bumping her thigh.
“I want to come in,” he said, his voice husky and enticing. He reached up, rubbed the ends of her hair between his fingers, the backs of his knuckles brushing the top of her breast. “Invite me inside, Nora.”
Yearning pooled low in her stomach, pushed her to submit to the inevitable.
Griffin in her bed.
Why shouldn’t she give in, give them both what they wanted? She’d said herself he was a good man. Emotionally closed off, yes, but she had a better understanding of what he’d gone through. Why he felt the need to protect himself that way.
He was sexy and gorgeous and he wanted her.
It wasn’t enough.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“You can.” He slipped his other hand under the hem of her shirt, his fingers warm and rough against her skin. “I want to touch you. All of you. I want to put my mouth here…” He touched his fingertips to her mouth, dragged the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. “And here…” Lowered his palm to her breast. “And here…” Slid his hand down her stomach, then lower, his touch featherlight between her legs. Desire slammed into her with enough force to steal her breath. “I want to watch your face as I make you come,” he continued relentlessly in that same gravelly tone. “Let me.”
Her knees were weak, her resolve waning. “I want to,” she admitted. “I really, really want to.” So much that she had to step back and put some distance between them. “But I…I need some time. And I need to know if you’re willing to give me that.”
If he cared eno
ugh about her to give her that.
He stared at her for so long, his expression hard, she was sure he’d say no. That he’d find someone else to scratch his itch instead of waiting around for her to make up her mind.
Then he nodded once, a quick jerk of his head. “You want time? Fine.” Before she realized his intent, he yanked her to him and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth before setting her away from him again. “Just don’t make me wait too long,” he said before getting on his bike and riding away.
She watched his taillight disappear down the street, waited until she could no longer hear the low roar of the bike’s engine. And tried to convince herself she’d made the right decision.
“That boy never did know when he wasn’t wanted.”
At the deep voice, Nora’s scalp prickled, her hands went numb. She whirled around as Dale stepped out from around the corner of her house. He grinned at her. Winked.
“And now we’re alone at last.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NORA GLANCED BEHIND her, but Griffin didn’t come back—no matter how hard she wished for it. She had to face Dale on her own.
“What do you want?” she asked, proud her steady voice betrayed none of the nerves churning in her stomach.
He held up his hands, a gesture meant to make him seem harmless. It didn’t. “I just want to talk to you. Let’s go inside—”
“No.”
Did he think she was an idiot? There was no way she’d let him inside her home where he could corner her. He’d hurt his wife and son, had killed her mother. It was much better, safer, to keep this meeting out in the open where her neighbors could hear her if she screamed. Where she had room to run.
“What do you want?” she repeated.
He grinned but his eyes on hers were flat and so cold, she shivered. “I have a proposition for you, a way for us to help each other.”
She laughed harshly. “If you think I’d do anything to help you, you’re crazy.”
“If you don’t do as I say or your family will be ripped apart. And it’ll be all your fault.”
Fear gripped her. Chilled her skin. “What are you talking about?”
He brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve. “I’m talking about the fact that I wasn’t the first man your mother took as a lover. She cheated on your father, had a one-night stand.” Dale’s grin was smug. “She slept with her husband’s brother.”
A roaring filled her ears, drowned out the sounds of the night, of traffic and birds and her neighbor watering his lawn. Her knees threatened to buckle. She locked them, swallowed in an attempt to dislodge the lump in her throat. “You’re lying.”
He had to be. Yes, her mother had been unfaithful to her father—perhaps with more than one man—but Uncle Ken?
No, she thought firmly. Frantically. No! He’d never do that. He was good and honorable and honest. He loved his wife and brother. He’d never hurt them… never betray their trust that way.
Dale rocked back on his heels. “Denying it doesn’t make it less true. I explained to your uncle that I’d take that truth public unless certain compensation was made to me, but so far he’s been resistant to do the smart thing. Which is where you come in.”
It was clear now. Dale hadn’t come back to Mystic Point because of the investigation. He’d come back to blackmail Ken. Griffin had been right that day at the café when he’d said Dale had returned to town for a reason other than admitting the truth about her mother’s death.
There’s something here he wants and he won’t hesitate to take down anyone who stands between him and whatever that is. Do yourself a favor and stay out of his way.
She wasn’t in Dale’s way, she thought dully. She was a means to an end.
“Ken hasn’t agreed to my…offer,” Dale continued, “because he thinks anything I say will be his word against mine. What he doesn’t know is that I have proof of the affair. Living, breathing proof.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out. “And it’s standing right in front of me.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. No.” She hated that she sounded desperate and unsure. That he showed him any hint of weakness.
“Val didn’t know for sure which brother you belonged to, not until you had your tonsils removed and she saw this.” He shook the paper.
Nora stared at it, her heart screaming at her not to take it, to trust in the people she loved, to believe in her uncle. Her head told her Dale was nothing but a liar and a con man who’d resort to any means to get what he wanted.
But the faith she’d always had—that belief that everything would work out for the best—deserted her, leaving in its place the cold, harsh slap of reality. One she couldn’t ignore.
Her hands trembling, she took the paper, unfolded it to reveal a copy of her medical records. She’d been five when she’d had a tonsillectomy so all she remembered were bits and pieces. The day of the surgery her mother had brought her balloons—a dozen brightly colored ones that filled the small hospital room—and then had gone to work. Nora’s dad had been out to sea but when he’d returned a week later, he’d brought her a stuffed lion and had taken her out for ice cream though, by then, she could eat solid foods.
But her sisters had been there for her the entire time. Layne had spent the night at the hospital, sleeping in a chair next to Nora’s bed. Tori had spent countless hours playing games and reading to her.
“This proves nothing,” Nora said, hoping, praying, she was right.
“Maybe not, but it raised a very interesting question for your mother. You see, she knew her blood type was O, just as she knew her husband was type B. So when she saw there that you had type A blood, well…” He slid his hand into his pockets. “She realized that her…indiscretion with Ken had a lasting consequence.”
Nora’s thoughts tumbled, one after the other. She searched her memory, remembered what she’d learned in biology class. Bile rose in her throat, threatened to choke her.
Because any biological children of Val and Tim Sullivan would have either type O or type B blood.
Tim Sullivan wasn’t her father.
She stumbled back a step. Her stomach cramped and she bent over, clutched her arms around herself. Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t catch her breath, her world spun and she collapsed, her knees hitting the concrete with a painful thud. “No.”
“Now, this is what is going to happen,” Dale said, squatting in front of her. “You are going to convince Ken to give me what I want. Once that happens, I’ll take my money and your secret and leave town. You’ll never hear from me again.”
He’d disappear. Just like he did eighteen years ago. He’d never be punished for killing her mother. She raised her head, forced herself to meet his eyes. “And if I don’t?” she asked hoarsely, her face stiff.
“Then everyone will find out the truth. The whole truth.” He slapped his thighs and rose to his full height. “I’m staying at the Wave Runner Motel. You have until noon Monday to get me my money.” He walked up to her, stopping at her shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, baby girl. Either way you look at it, you’re still a Sullivan.”
* * *
AT ERIN AND Collin’s engagement party Saturday evening, Nora chatted with friends and family, smiled in family photos, laughed along with the rest of the revelers. She loaded a plate with food, pushed it around with her fork in the hopes that no one would notice she hadn’t eaten a bite. Carried a glass of wine around with her, sipping it whenever she felt her throat tighten, the tears threaten. She’d mingled and done her best to pretend as if nothing had changed.
As if her entire life hadn’t changed.
But she couldn’t let her guard down, couldn’t let her act slip, not even for a moment. She was afraid if she did, she’d break down right there
in the middle of the Seneca Country Club’s restaurant. Half-listening to a conversation between a small group of women who taught with Erin, she lifted her glass to her lips. Froze to see her father and uncle standing off to the side by the bar.
They were so similar with their blond hair and tall, slim builds and blue eyes. Tim said something that had Ken laughing then clapping his younger brother on the shoulder before they joined the crowd again.
Nora’s composure started to slip. She could feel it in the way her smile faded, in how her grip on the glass tightened. Excusing herself from the group, she wove her way through the crowd, her steps measured until she reached the dark hallway. Only then did she let the panic push her into a fast trot, her heels clipping against the tile floor.
Inside the ladies’ room, she locked the door and exhaled, pressed the heels of her hands against the headache behind her temples.
She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept in two nights, which was obvious, she thought as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She had dark circles under her eyes that no amount of cover-up had been able to hide. Her complexion was waxy and stress lines bracketed her mouth.
After Dale had walked away from her two nights ago, she’d waited until Layne started her evening shift at the station then, using the spare key she’d given her, Nora let herself into Layne’s house. When their father moved in with Celeste years ago, he left everything from his old life behind. Photo albums and scrapbooks, hand-drawn pictures from his daughters, old tax returns and a lifetime of papers from medical records to birth certificates.
Alone in the dusty, stuffy attic, surrounded by the memories of her childhood, she’d searched through at least half a dozen plastic totes before she’d found what she’d been dreading. A record from when her mother had gallbladder surgery and a card from one of the times her father had donated blood proved Dale was telling the truth.
She reapplied her lipstick then slowly lowered her hand as she studied the familiar lines of her face. Looking for something, any sign that she was still the same person she’d been before Dale had rocked her entire world.