No Turning Back

by HelenKay Dimon

  Hands toured and sharp breaths clashed. Her fingers trailed down the deep groove between his shoulder blades and a bell rang in his brain. He had to have her now, ten seconds from now, but no longer. His mouth never left hers as his palms swept over her top. The shirt fit close to her skin and tucked into her pants. With shaking hands, he yanked it out. The flimsy material ripped under his fingers.

  “Damn.” He lifted his head, gasping as the air pounded in his lungs. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I don’t care. Tear it all off.” She pressed her hand against the back of his neck and brought his mouth back to hers.

  When his fingers hit bare skin, he shifted their position away from the wall. Walking her backwards, he guided her toward the bedroom, stumbling as they banged into furniture and tripped in their frenzied need to rub against each other. The room whizzed by with their mouths locked in an endless kiss.

  They bounced and turned as he got them as far as the small hall leading to the bedroom. The door was closed but the fire brewing inside him made him think he could bust through it. Her fingers slipped to his belt and he debated taking her right there against the wall. Legs wrapped around his waist, her cheeks flushed as he pushed inside her. The temptation drove through him as his hands roamed up her back and his belt buckle clanked as it fell open.

  Bed. He wanted her in a bed. They could try a wall, the kitchen table. Hell, on the front porch while the entire neighborhood watched for all he cared, but the first time he wanted a mattress. He’d dreamed of this moment and planned to take his time. Tasting every inch, learning every part of her.

  He lifted his head long enough to place a line of kisses down her sexy neck. Her head fell back against the wall as her fingers speared through his hair, holding him close. Without breaking contact, he reached over and grabbed for the door to her bedroom. He pushed but it hit against something with a hard thunk.

  “What the hell?”

  Her body went still under his hands and her head shot up. “How did we get . . . Declan, no.”

  Those eyes, all cloudy with passion a second ago now grew wide as the blood drained from her face. White skin, nail-clawing grip on his forearm, it didn’t take a genius to know something was very wrong.

  His gaze shot to the six-inch crack and the boxes he could see stacked on the bed inside. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Let’s go back to the family room.” She tugged hard enough on his arm to wrench it out of the socket.

  Just in time, he slipped out of her grasp and shoved against the door, pushing his way in the small entrance space. His gaze ran over the room. Focus went to the boxes. There had to be six of them littered around and taking up most of the walking and sleeping room.

  “What are you doing, moving or something?” The idea made his stomach roll, but he refused to examine that now.

  While he scanned, he noticed she hadn’t followed him inside. She stood at the door, staring at him, as she gnawed on her lower lip. With her shirt untucked and her toes curled under, she seemed younger and so uncharacteristically unsure. Her shoulders fell and her body shrank in front of him.

  What was happening here? “Leah, I don’t—”

  Then it hit him. The quiet. The strange shadow. The blocked view. A whiteboard, so out of place yet there it was, huge and spanning the entire space between the end of her bed and her chest of drawers, leaving only a thin walking path.

  Photographs and newspaper articles, handwritten notes and lines in different colors connected items together. He zeroed in on the picture at the top middle. A photo of his back as he stood over Charlie’s grave. Declan remembered the day, and how he told the marker everything he’d wanted to say to Charlie’s face. Declan barely recognized his own bent-over frame but he knew that jacket. It hung in the hall closet at Shadow Hill right now.

  The whole messed-up scene had him blinking. “What the hell am I looking at?”

  “Declan, please. Let’s go to the family room and talk.” Her voice bobbled as she spoke.

  For the first time, the room came into sharp focus. This was some sort of Anti-Charlie War Room. The place where she kept all the information she’d gathered on his family—on him—over the years. Whatever hideous plan she was going to launch against them in support of regaining Shadow Hill, it all started here.

  He turned around and ripped the top off the nearest box. Files lined the inside, stuffed to overfilling and pushing the sides out to near-breaking. The tabs had names, most familiar to him, many belonging to relatives. He saw his name in what he guessed was her bold half-print writing.

  “I can explain.” She reached out with a shaky hand.

  He jerked his arm away before she could make contact. No way did he want her touching him. He didn’t even want to look at her right now.

  Fury exploded inside of him, spewing in every direction until the white-hot flame burned through him. “You conniving bitch.”

  “I never lied to you.” She wrapped her arms around her body.

  So vulnerable.

  Such a damn liar.

  No way was he falling for any of it a second time. “You told me you had an investigator look into Callen’s background.”

  “That was part of it.”

  But that was just a small piece. Declan saw that now. They got hateful calls and mail every single day from people who claimed Charlie turned them into victims and now wanted revenge. At least with those people, Declan saw it coming. The hatred was right there in the profane sentences and numerous threats.

  Leah’s attack was so much worse. Lethal and unexpected with the power to knock him down.

  It all jammed up on him until he had to get it out. Fueled by an anger he hadn’t known in years, he grabbed files, snapping them in the air and throwing them one at a time at her feet. Papers whooshed out of the sides and floated to the floor. She never moved. Didn’t try to catch anything or keep him out of the boxes.

  “You’ve been collecting this for how long?” If she lied one more time he didn’t know what he’d do. He’d never hurt a woman, but he had no idea one would ever have the power to destroy him.

  “It’s not—”

  “Not what, Leah? It’s fucking crazy, is what it is. It’s scary. You know that, right?” She opened her mouth but he jumped right back in as the words tore out of him. “Were you going to sleep with me then add your rating to one of these files? Is that it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Maybe post it up there on the board with whatever else you’ve gathered about my past?”

  “Declan, I . . .” She wiped her hand over her face. “I don’t know how to make you understand.”

  She jumped and looked back up when he slapped his hand against the whiteboard and watched it rock. It took all he had not to tear the thing apart, rip the wood with his bare hands and throw it all on the floor.

  Tension and a dark roaring anger rumbled through the room. “This is unbelievable.”

  She leaned against the door frame, her body curled in and tucked. “I wanted to tell you.”

  Her whispered words crashed against him and he fought them off. Even now after seeing this, the urge to hold her and shake her until she agreed to stop this nonsense floored him. All his energy centered on standing there, holding his ground, and refusing to buy into the lost-kitten look she had going on. But, damn, he was tempted and that stupid show of weakness made him furious.

  “When did you plan to come clean, Leah? You had every chance. We’ve seen each other almost every day since I got to town.”

  “I couldn’t figure out how or when.”

  “How about after I told you about my mom or opened up about being Charlie’s kid? Or when I kissed you? Or when I nearly ripped your clothes off and took you in the work shed?” So many things he’d never shared, all those emotions floating t
o the surface. He’d handed the information right to the very person determined to gather it and then fire it as a weapon. He’d made it all so easy.

  She blew out a long breath. “Everything started racing and I lost control. This began long before I met you. It has nothing—”

  He pointed at her, willing her to stop talking. “Do not say it has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with me and you know it.”

  She held his gaze with tortured eyes for a second then looked away.

  “You want to be angry about the past, fine.” He refastened his belt and blinked away the memory of her hands trying to strip it off. “Wallow in your hate for all I care. But this? Don’t try to pretend this is about anything but destroying my family.”

  “I’m trying to balance everything and make everybody happy.”

  “Happy? Do I look happy to you?”

  She dropped her hands to her sides and came to him. Her fingers wrapped around his forearms and her eyes pleaded as she talked. “Please, listen to me.”

  The only way to do this, to keep his shield up and strong, was to walk away. “We’re done with that. You had every chance and—”

  “Declan.”

  He peeled her fingers off his arms and set her back a straight-armed distance away. “I’m not going to let you go after my brothers. You want a fight, you got it.”

  “I want you.”

  “Too late.” And he walked out the door before his steps could hesitate or his body to could call out to her. Those days were over.

  ***

  Two days later, days without any contact from Declan or even a glimpse of his strong back, she stepped inside her father’s house and closed the door. The idea of food made her dizzy with nausea. Her stomach was raw and her nerve endings prickly as if they were exposed.

  The texts she sent Declan went unanswered and the idea of going over there, walking right into the lion’s den, scared her to death. By now the Hanover brothers knew what she’d been doing and she’d been branded their enemy. That’s how her family worked and she guessed the Hanovers weren’t any different, especially since she handed them such deadly ammunition to fire at her.

  She had no idea what was happening in Declan’s head or with the house. She couldn’t feel anything except the headache pounding her brain that refused to go away and the thumping in her palms from the blisters she got ripping the whiteboard down. If she could have burned the thing without taking her house along with it she would have. Instead it sat in pieces all over her bedroom while she spent the few hours per night she did sleep sitting in a chair in the family room.

  Footsteps shuffled as her dad popped out of his study and into the hallway. “It’s about time you showed up.”

  “You knew I would be here. It’s dinner night.” And then there was the part where he left a message demanding her presence.

  “Before we get to that, what’s happening with the Hanover boys?”

  The priorities hadn’t changed. Revenge over family time. She couldn’t go there. “Can we just eat?”

  “You’ve had plenty of time to set your plan in motion. I told you there is a ticking clock here and I need details.”

  Her dad stood in the hallway, not moving or inviting her to the kitchen. She thought about brushing past him but he’d set up in his warrior stance, taunting her.

  After everything that had happened, all she’d lost—things she didn’t even know had become so important, like Declan—the idea of fighting with her dad wiped out the rest of her energy. Exhaustion crept over her and her muscles turned to jelly.

  With nothing else to lose, she asked the question sure to tick her dad off. “What if they aren’t like Charlie?”

  Her dad shook his head as he turned and walked away from her down the hall to the kitchen. “I knew you couldn’t handle this.”

  “Gee thanks, Dad.”

  “You get sucked in, believe in people. Take that friend of yours. Mallory whatever her name is.”

  That got Leah moving. She rushed down the hall and pivoted to stand in front of him. “Don’t. You don’t get to talk about her. Ever.”

  Mallory was sacred in Leah’s mind. Her loyalty absolute. Leah had walked into that dorm room all those years ago and spotted Mallory. She’d looked tough but the first words out of her mouth were about an ice cream run, and Leah knew everything would be okay. They laughed together. Cried together. Watched boys, made fun of popular girls and got dumped.

  Through all the pain and loss, the one person Leah could lean on for emotional support in this world was not the blood relative who loved her the only way he could manage, but Mallory. She was the family Leah created and could always count on. Anyone who put Mallory down earned Leah’s automatic hatred.

  Leah’s father waved his hand in dismissal. “She holds you back. Has since college.”

  “People in this town love her.” More importantly, Leah did, but that never mattered to her dad.

  “Enough about her. The waitresses at the diner are feeding that Hanover character instead of kicking him out. I want to know why.” Her dad grabbed two dishes from the middle shelf and banged them together as he put them on the table.

  The talk of food brought the homey smells rushing through Leah’s senses. Roast beef and potatoes. She’d bet money on the combination, which was one of her dad’s favorites.

  “I’m guessing some people don’t know the Charlie connection and others don’t care.”

  The silverware and glasses hit the table next. “Of course they do. I told everyone I could think to tell.”

  Her last hold on hope snapped. “What good does that do?”

  “Those Hanovers need to know they’re not welcome.”

  She balanced her hands on the table and leaned across to face him. “Dad, listen to me.”

  “Never mind. Your chance is over.”

  Just as she built up to argue, he sent her in another direction. At his words a wave of panic crashed over her. “What does that mean?”

  “I warned you back in your office.”

  “Tell me what you’re saying.”

  “Clay found another way. A faster, and I would guess more successful, way.” The knife slid out of the woodblock and clanged against the counter before her dad opened the refrigerator door in search of something.

  None of the movements registered. Not when something so desperately important hung out there. “What are you planning?”

  “Enough of this talk.” He dumped a tub of spreadable butter on the table. “It’s time to eat.”

  She’d never be able to chew, let alone swallow. “Dad, what did you do?”

  “What you should have done. Fixed this.” He handed a bowl to her.

  She couldn’t see or smell what was in it. “How?”

  “That’s not your worry.”

  “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

  The pan with the roast cracked against the table when he put it down too hard. “You’d pick that middle boy over your own father?”

  All those years of training slammed into her. She was an adult and she had to take responsibility for her bad choices, but just once she wanted her dad to admit he’d misfired and messed up so much. “His name is Declan, Dad. Declan. He’s a grown man and he’s not Charlie. Declan hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  Her dad’s face flushed red. “If you really believe that, get out.”

  “What?” She set the bowl down slowly, careful not to crush it in her hands though she was tempted to do it.

  “You heard me.”

  He could be on the verge of a heart attack. She didn’t want to leave until they talked it through. “Because we disagree?”

  “Because you forgot who you are and what happened in this town!” The floors rattled from his yell. “When you remember again,
you can come back in. Until then, out.”

  “I was only saying—”

  He used the knife to point the way to the front door. “Now.”

  He was in that mood. There would be no way to move him. She had to double back and hope for a second of reasonable thinking.

  The losses piled up until she was surprised her legs held her. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Don’t bother.” He turned back to the oven, effectively ignoring her.

  As with almost every other time in her life, rather than fight with him she conceded. She had so many wounds at this point she half expected to see blood on the floor. Forcing her legs to move, she walked back the suddenly mile-long hall to the front door. She glanced back one last time to see her dad sitting down to dinner on his own.

  She waited until she was outside to call Clay to come keep her dad company.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Declan had gotten up at five and started ripping apart the bookcases in the library. The room smelled damp and musty, like no one had opened the door for a decade. Walking around now was only possible because he whacked on the painted-shut windows until he got them open. The cool morning breeze swept the room but he barely felt it. Short sleeve tee or not, he was numb and he only had one person to blame for that.

  He hadn’t slept ten minutes in the two nights since the showdown. He skipped the usual cold shower that came with thinking about Leah each night since they met because her bedroom betrayal had burned the need right out of him. Her face played in his mind but that came from his anger. No way was he still stuck on her. That pathetic loser was long gone.

  He grabbed an armful of books off the shelf and dumped them on the floor. The hardcovers thudded and a puff of dust had him coughing. Clearly Sophie had skipped this room more than once.

  “Who pissed in your cereal?” Callen asked the question as he walked into the room eating a bowl of his own.

  “Not today, Callen.” With a quick look at his watch to confirm the time, Declan went back to his book-throwing. The slams and bangs relieved some of the tension thumping in his brain.