“I chickened out. After all, you had a supermodel girlfriend. And I worried you’d think I was crazy. That was basically what Agents Jarvis and Harris were implying.”
“They were just trying to get you to talk. It was right after you called that I broke up with Cheyenne. I told her that I was in—” he caught himself just in time “—involved with someone else. Larissa, I can’t even imagine how rough this past month has been for you. How’ve you been, really?”
She looked away from him and shrugged. “Depressed. Unable to sleep.”
“You’ve lost weight.”
She shrugged again.
“Ah, Jesus. I feel like such a shit. How’s your asthma?”
“Better. Despite everything, I’ve hardly had to use the inhaler.”
They walked on, each lost in their own thoughts. Oblivious, the puppy capered happily around their feet. Finally, she broke the uneasy silence. “Chase, I’d like to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“Will you answer honestly?”
“I swear on my life.”
“Would you really have killed that state trooper?”
He came to an abrupt stop and gazed straight into her eyes. “I’ve killed more than a few men in the line of duty. It’s not something I’m proud of, but neither am I ashamed of it. But under no circumstances would I have killed that officer, although I would’ve had to subdue and restrain him.”
She searched his eyes for the truth and, apparently satisfied, nodded and started walking again. They covered nearly half a block in silence, before he screwed up sufficient courage to say, “I’d like to ask you a question as well, and I hope that you’ll give me an honest answer. Something you said has been eating at me—”
“It’s been eating at me, too. I absolutely did not mean it when I said I should have shot you.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that, but that’s not what’s bothering me. Hell, I almost wish you had shot me. What I want to ask concerns that last night at the motel, when we … uh ...”
“Got naked and sweaty?”
He nodded. “Afterwards, you said you’d faked everything.”
“I guess I owe you an apology for that, too. I admit to having had an ulterior motive for seducing you, but I didn’t fake anything. I lied because I wanted to hurt you.”
A wash of relief flooded him and brought a lump to his throat. “If you said it to hurt me, then you can rest assured you were successful. Telling me you faked everything hurt a hundred times worse than the rock you tried to cave in my head with.”
“I’m not apologizing for the rock. You deserved that.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but … you didn’t have to run that night. Before I fell asleep, I’d decided to drive you to the closest airport or bus station in the morning and give you money for a ticket home.”
She came to an abrupt halt. “You’re lying.”
He held his hands up, palms out. “I swear on the lives of everyone I love.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose as if experiencing the onset of a headache. “Un-freaking-believable.” After a moment, she looked up at him. “If you had driven me to the airport the next day, Sparrow would still be alive and plotting his revenge against me, so fortunately everything happened the way it did. I assume you know about the bodies they found?”
“I’ve been keeping up with the news.”
“The FBI suspects that Sparrow may have killed at least nine additional women. Who knows how many lives you saved by not driving me to the airport.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” They paused for a moment while the puppy squatted on the edge of someone’s lawn, and he glanced back to see that Brendon’s Civic had turned the corner and was idling less than half a block back. “Larissa, about that night...” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Was it just me, or was that the most mind-blowing sex anyone’s ever had?”
She gazed at him, wide-eyed. “You felt that too? I thought it was just me.” A blush crept up her cheeks and she looked away. “That’s one reason why I’ve been so depressed.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’d never before experienced anything that … intense, and I’ve worried I might be some kind of masochistic freak.”
“That would infer that I’m a sadistic freak, and I can assure you I’m not.”
“Agents Jarvis and Harris insist I’m suffering from something called Stockholm syndrome.”
“I’m familiar with it. It’s when captives form a bond with their captors, like what happened with Patty Hearst. The problem with that theory is that you never stopped trying to escape. And don’t forget, you tried to kill me with that rock.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you. Just … hinder you.”
He let out a hearty bark of laughter that startled several robins from a nearby tree. They took to the air in a wild beating of wings.
“You nearly hindered my skull in.”
“And you find that amusing?”
“I do, actually.”
Her smiling gaze lingered on him for a moment, before sliding away. “Agent Harris said that in times of great emotional turmoil all the adrenaline being pumped through the body can heighten one’s … sexual response.”
“I know from experience that’s true. There were times in Afghanistan when we’d be preparing to go on an especially dangerous mission that my erection felt like it was going to rip through my pants.”
“Even though you knew you might die?”
“It’s the threat of danger that triggers the release of adrenaline.”
“So, you think that’s all it was?”
“I don’t know, and I certainly can’t speak for you. Maybe it was simply one of those peculiar confluences of time, place, and hormones. Although, and this is probably going to sound crazy, from the very beginning, I felt there was some deep connection between us. That’s one reason why I’m here. I had to see if that intense chemistry still exists, or if it was simply due to the circumstances.”
Larissa stopped. Chase was surprised to find that they were back in front of her house. Next door, the curtain fluttered, and her neighbor’s face appeared at the window. “Is your neighbor always this nosy?”
“Yumiko was quite upset by my disappearance. Since the police still haven’t caught the ‘kidnapper’, she worries about me. Would you like to come in?”
“I’d like that very much. Let me grab something from my vehicle.” He retrieved the bulging manila envelope from under the passenger seat and followed her up the walkway. The blue Civic was idling at the end of the block. “Where’s your car?”
“In the shop. The transmission went out.”
There was now an additional deadbolt on the door. She unlocked both locks, and stepped inside to punch numbers into the keypad of a brand new alarm-system panel. In the kitchen, she took the leash off the puppy, who noisily slurped from his water bowl. Leaving a trail of water droplets across the linoleum, he ambled into the large, wire cage in the corner and collapsed onto the tufted cushion. Before Larissa had fastened the latch, he was asleep.
When she straightened and pulled the 9mm from the waistband at the small of her back, his heart stopped dead in his chest. Unaware of his trepidation, she placed the weapon on the kitchen counter.
His heart resumed beating. “Did you check to see if it was still loaded?”
Her face flushed. “Of course, I did. I’m not that stupid.”
“You’re not stupid at all,” he hastened to say.
“Aren’t I? When my kidnapper shows up at my house, do I call the police as any halfway-intelligent person would? No. I invite him inside. It doesn’t get more stupid than that.”
The urge to pull her into his arms nearly overwhelmed him. “Larissa, you are not stupid. You invited me in because you know I’d never deliberately do anything to hurt you. I was only trying to determi
ne if you suspected me of breaking into your house again. Though your suspicion pains me, it’s good you’re being cautious.”
“Agent Jarvis warned that you might decide to silence me.”
“Jesus, what a fucking asshole. I hope you didn’t believe him.”
“I didn’t.” Her eyes dropped guiltily. “Not really. But he and Agent Harris filled my head with so much garbage I hardly knew what to believe. Please don’t take it personally.”
“No matter how low your opinion of me, I’m sure it’s higher than the regard in which I hold myself.”
“My opinion might actually surprise you.”
While she poured two glasses of iced tea, he moved over to the doorway to gaze at the aquarium in the living room. “Did all the fish survive your absence?”
“Brendon took care of them.”
He placed the envelope on the kitchen table and took a seat. “He seems like a good friend.”
“The best.”
Setting a glass before him, she took a seat across from him. Nervousness had made his mouth go dry. He took a large swallow of the tea, pleased to find it unsweetened. Now that they were alone in the privacy of her house, her nervousness became painfully apparent. She fidgeted, her gaze flicking everywhere but at him. When he cleared his throat, her eyes met his across the expanse of the table. A flush crept up her face, and she dropped her gaze to the table.
With a great sense of relief, he realized her sudden reticence was not fear. Despite their previous, if brief, intimacy, she was actually shy with him now. Shyness was not something with which he was personally acquainted, and so it came as somewhat of a shock to realize that he was shy with her as well.
She took a swallow of tea, sat the glass down, and raised her eyes to his. “Was jail really horrible?”
“Time dragged unbearably, and I couldn’t stop worrying about you.”
“I’d have thought you’d have been worried about yourself.”
“I was. But since I’d brought everything upon myself, I was prepared to accept the consequences. You were an innocent victim, and the guilt from having involved you was tormenting me. My friends kept me supplied with books, which was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind.
“Although there’s no excuse for what I did, I’d like to offer an explanation. When I got out of the military, Roach, Mad Dog, Travis, and I opened a security-consulting firm in L.A., specializing in celebrity protection. Sparrow — who I knew as Hank Keswick — hired me to find you.” He went on to tell her everything, and finished by saying, “While professing his love for you and his desperation to get you back, he came across so sincere that I swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.”
“Psychopaths are excellent liars.”
“I guess Agent Jarvis probably told you I was Special Forces.”
“Actually, it was Sparrow who told me. I went online and did some research. Pretty impressive.”
He shrugged off the compliment. “After I got out, I was incredibly bored with civilian life and abducting a runaway wife to return her to her husband and children seemed like just another mission. In hindsight, I can’t believe how incredibly stupid I was. Plus, it was hard to turn down eighty thousand.”
“Sparrow paid you eighty-thousand dollars? That would buy one hell of an engagement ring.”
He frowned at her, puzzled. “Engagement ring?”
“Never mind. It was something Agent Jarvis said. And I actually believed him so, clearly, you aren’t the only one who’s gullible.”
He opened the envelope and slid the eight paper-strap-bound bundles of crisp new hundreds onto the table. Each bundle boasted $10,000 in metallic-gold ink.
She blinked several times, then swallowed, hard. “Is this really eighty-thousand dollars?”
“After all I’ve put you through, it’s rightfully yours.”
“I’ve never even seen this much money before.” They sat in silence, while she stared at the bundles, clearly stunned. Finally, she raised her eyes to his. “Chase, you don’t have to buy my continued silence.”
“I’m not trying to buy anything, except possibly your absolution.”
“Honey, if you didn’t already have that, you wouldn’t be sitting in my kitchen.”
“Truly? You forgive me?” She nodded. “In that case, consider the money fair interest on the debt I owe you.”
“That seems reasonable.” She slid four of the bundles back across the table toward him. “But since we were in it together, we’ll split it fifty-fifty.”
“I gave you no choice in the matter, so it could hardly be considered a partnership.” He pushed the bills back across the table. “It’s all yours.”
“I only want half.”
“Nevertheless, you’re going to keep it all.”
“No, I’m not.” She shoved the four bundles back toward him. “And we’re not going to argue about it.”
“Damn it, Larissa, you are the most exasperatingly hardheaded woman I’ve ever known.”
“You say that like it surprises you.” She picked up one of the bundles and riffled the bills with one manicured thumb. “Now I can pay Brendon the money I owe him, pay off my credit card, and get my car out of the shop.” She looked up at him, green eyes wide. “I could even buy another.”
“If you make a transaction of ten-thousand dollars or more, the IRS will be notified. Shortly thereafter, they’ll be knocking on your door, wanting to know where the money came from and why you didn’t pay income tax on it. And you can’t deposit it in a bank account. You’ll have to get a safe-deposit box.”
She still appeared stunned, but nodded. “I understand. I’ll be careful.”
“Larissa, I know how insane this is going to sound after everything that’s happened but, when you and I were together, it felt so … so inherently right. Could we start over? Take it slow and get to know one another under normal circumstances? If we find there’s no longer any chemistry, I’ll board the next flight to California and never trouble you again”
When she smiled and said, “I’d like that,” he felt every muscle in his body suddenly loosen. “So you don’t think I’m suffering from Stockholm syndrome?”
“Jesus, I hope not. Honestly, I don’t believe that to be the case. There was definite chemistry between us, and I can assure you I wasn’t under the influence of any psychological syndrome. In any case, if it was Stockholm syndrome, your true feelings will rapidly become apparent. You’ll find yourself growing increasingly angry, and you’ll realize you truly despise me.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “That actually makes sense. But if there is still chemistry between us — what then? We live twenty-five-hundred miles apart.”
“I’ll move here to Charleston.”
“You’d do that?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, I’d move to Hell for you. “Only if you wanted me to.”
“There’s not much call for celebrity protection around here.”
“Actually, I thought I’d apply for a job with the fire department.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “You definitely wouldn’t have any problem meeting the physical requirements, and you’d be able to get the occasional adrenaline fix.”
Jesus, she understood him so well. “I’m staying at a motel not far from here. If you don’t mind, I’ll stick around for the next few days. We could go out to dinner. Maybe take in a movie or two. Take your killer pit bull for a romp in a park.”
A sudden smile illuminated her face. “I’d love that. I can show you the city.”
“Is there anything you’d like to ask me? I know there must be questions you’d like answered.”
She nodded, and sat there for a moment, clearly considering what to ask first. “O’Malley’s an Irish name, but you don’t look Irish.”
“My old man was Black Irish. My mother’s Sicilian.”
“Where’d you grow up?”
“The mean streets of Pittsburg.”
“How’d
you get that scar on your face?”
“Caught some shrapnel.”
“In Afghanistan?” He nodded. “And that’s where you got all the other scars, as well?”
“Most of them. A few were acquired back in Pittsburg.”
She gazed at him for a moment, then shrugged. “There’s so much I want to know but, at the moment, I’m too overwhelmed to think.”
“Larissa, are you sure you can forgive me?”
“I’ll admit this past month has been rough, and parts were absolute hell, but in the end everything came out all right so, yes, I’m sure. Absolutely.”
He dropped his gaze and raked a hand through his hair. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”
“You know, it’s strange but, during those five days we were together, even though I was scared to death, I’d never in my life felt so alive. In comparison, the rest of my life now seems so … bland, so colorless. I think I understand why you found the Special Forces so appealing. In any case, I’ve spent the last two years looking over my shoulder for Sparrow and, now that he’s dead, you can’t imagine my relief. If you’d refused to do the job, Sparrow would’ve hired someone else, and I’d now be dead.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“Nor would we have met.” She gazed at him a moment. “Are you worried that, in the future — if there is a future for us — I’ll throw everything in your face?”
“Not at all. I’m simply worried you’ll never fully trust me.”
“Chase,” — Jesus, he loved hearing her say his name — “I’ve invited you into my house, so it’s glaringly obvious that I trust you, although sometimes that fact amazes even me.”
“And you’re sure you forgive me?”
“Why is that so difficult to believe?”
“I guess because I can’t forgive myself.”
“Everyone makes mistakes. Granted, not usually mistakes of such magnitude, but you can’t keep beating yourself up over it. I regret not one single thing you or I did.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
Their conversation waned as the evening steadily darkened. There were a million things he wanted to say but somehow couldn’t find the words to express. He badly wanted to reach across the heavy silence that had descended between them and take her hand but, with everything progressing so well, he was hesitant to rush physical contact.
The Heart Has Reasons Page 38