As rage rose up to mock him, Jake knew he was close to losing control. And he didn’t want Cassidy to know how badly her father had hurt him. Didn’t want her to know how much she could still disturb him by being here and witnessing his pain.
He kept his voice cool and clipped. “I think you’d better go.”
Her eyes shimmered with sadness and determination. “But I want to help.”
“Your family has helped me enough,” he sneered, and watched her face go pale.
Raising her chin, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze with a level one of her own. “You’re not being fair.”
“Like your father was fair to me? By hiding my sisters’ location from their only brother?”
Exasperation tinged her tone. “I already explained. A lawyer’s first obligation is to his client.”
“Yeah, right. A nonexistent client.”
She nodded coolly, as if giving him a point in a debate. “I can’t find the record of who hired him. He was paid in cash.”
“How convenient.”
Jake ached to clench his fists. He didn’t, fearing if he did he might follow through and punch the wall. Instead, he forced his tone to remain crisp and precise. “And maybe, just like your father, you’re keeping the truth from me now. Maybe you know exactly who hired your father to split up my family.”
She flinched. If he hadn’t been a sizzling mass of emotions and so eager for her to go before she could witness his pain, he’d have admired the gumption it took for her to look him in the eye. But right now, all her courage did was feed the flames of his rage and resentment.
Cassidy locked gazes with him, as if she expected him to read her sincerity. “I’d like to make up for what my father did.”
Her concern only stoked his anger. He didn’t want her help, her pity or her compassion. He couldn’t bear for her to know how much her father’s silence had hurt him. And he was too proud to tell her how hurt he’d been when she’d left for college and never once called him. Or how just her presence flayed open old scars and brought the hurting back.
Jake needed to be alone, needed time to lick his wounds. “This isn’t your concern.”
“I was concerned enough to bring you the box.”
“So you salved your conscience, Sunshine.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Ah. The nickname had memories for her, too. Had he struck a nerve?
Long ago Jake had learned to fight the world with the tools he’d been given—a quick mind and a ruthlessness that was revealed whenever he felt under attack, his back to the wall. He needed time to think, time to recover from the raw emotions churning his gut, and he sure as hell didn’t need Cassidy here.
He allowed an edge of rage to penetrate his tone. “Go back to your safe little lawyer’s world. The world your daddy picked for you. He’s probably rolling over in his grave right now.” Jake scowled at her. “We both know Frazier wouldn’t have wanted you here with me.”
At his hurtful words, she raised her chin and softened her tone, but steel braced her spine. “What do you want?”
He couldn’t let those eyes see into his heart, see the scars he’d have sworn had healed until she walked through the door. He didn’t want the memories that sliced through him. He didn’t want to remember what it was like to want her.
Never again would he let her fool him into believing she cared about him. He was no longer an innocent boy just out of a state home, but a grown man who’d seen enough betrayal and deceit to know the world could be ugly.
When she didn’t budge, he made his voice glacial. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want you in my home. I don’t want you. Is that clear enough? Blunt enough?”
Cassidy’s pale face turned whiter, leaving blotchy red patches of anger and humiliation on her cheeks. Her lips narrowed, their fullness pulled into a taut line of distress. As she stood, she didn’t say a word. With surprising strength, she lifted the box, turned it upside down and dumped the contents onto the floor at his feet.
Papers, a diary and photographs spilled into a messy pile. Jake ignored the papers and watched Cassidy, finally realizing he’d gone too far. But he couldn’t find the words to say so. Too many conflicting emotions made his mouth dry, and words of apology stuck in his throat.
With her head high, her shoulders back, her chin up, her spine ramrod straight, Cassidy strode from the room with the empty carton. And although Jake had gotten exactly what he’d intended, he felt no triumph. She’d left him with an empty house and an empty heart.
CASSIDY WOULD NOT SOB. Not here where he might see her. So she held her breath all the way out of Jake’s house and down the walk. She didn’t dare inhale until she reached her car. Finally as tears tightened the back of her throat, she took air into her starving lungs in one big rush.
She would not cry for the boy she’d once called a friend. She would not spill tears over the harsh man who’d replaced him. She would not think about the reasons that caused the confident young friend she recalled to turn into the cynical man she’d seen today.
She would not cry.
No, you’ll just run away, her conscience needled her.
He told me to leave so he could brood in private.
He was your best friend. A good friend. How could you leave such an intriguing hunk alone when there are so many other possibilities?
He was like a big brother.
Didn’t you ever think of consoling him? All that wonderful anger could be put to good use.
Sure. I’ll just sprinkle fairy dust over him and he’ll turn from an old friend into the perfect lover.
I see you prefer crying.
I’m not crying.
Cassidy tossed the box into the car and angrily wiped away the solitary tear running from the corner of her eye.
That Jake had grown into such a handsome man hadn’t surprised her. She’d always admired his whiskey-colored eyes, olive skin and black hair. But during the past ten years, he’d grown another few inches, towering over her five foot eight, and his features had sharpened. The hollows under his cheekbones had grown deeper. His eyes glittered with an intensity that almost made her shiver. The changes in his eyes bothered her the most. Eyes that she recalled as warm and friendly as a puppy’s now burned with amber fire. Even outside in the breezy Gulf air, she could still recall their blazing heat.
However, she would not think about the pain of betrayal she’d seen in his eyes when she’d told him that her father had had the answers that he’d so desperately sought. If only her father were still alive so he could explain his actions. Despite what Jake thought, she knew her father had been a good man. He must have had an honorable reason for his seemingly inexplicable actions.
Cassidy had never told Jake that her father had insisted that she follow her dream of college and law school and had discouraged her from considering Jake as anything more than a friend. Jake would have assumed that his poor background and lack of family and education were the reason Frazier had insisted that his daughter attend college as she’d always planned. And Cassidy couldn’t hurt Jake with something he’d had no control over.
Even at eighteen she’d understood why her father wanted her to follow her dream of becoming a lawyer and not give up like Cassidy’s mother had. Her parents had married during law school. After her mother had become pregnant, she’d dropped out of school, and while she’d always intended to return, she never had. Her mother had put her dream on hold—and then she’d died. And her father insisted that Cassidy put her education first.
So she hadn’t let herself become involved with Jake for the sake of a dream. Cassidy’s goal was to practice law. Jake’s dream was to have a family. To him family meant everything—especially since he’d never had one. And he never ever took relationships casually, because he’d had so few people who’d cared about him. Because Cassidy didn’t trust herself with Jake, because she couldn’t let their friendship change, she’d deliberately chosen to stop any further feelings
from developing between them.
She’d always looked at Jake as a brother, and they’d kept that platonic friendship until she’d left for college.
When a slip of paper that hadn’t fallen from the box earlier wafted into the air on a gust, Cassidy snatched the paper by instinct and crushed it. She didn’t care if that paper had the names, addresses and social-security numbers of both of Jake’s sisters. No way would she return to that house. She couldn’t face another of Jake’s rebuffs.
He’d made it very clear that she wasn’t wanted, and Cassidy wouldn’t stay and help now if he came out on his knees and begged. That image brought a slight upward quirk to her lips. The thought of Jake Cochran begging anyone was a ludicrous image.
A bit calmer, Cassidy slipped behind the steering wheel, the paper still crumpled in her fingers. She backed out of the drive, letting the wheels squeal as she turned a sharp corner, eager to leave behind the disturbing image of an angry Jake. But she couldn’t relax the tension in her shoulders even after she passed out of sight of Jake’s house.
What had happened to him? She mourned the loss of the young man she’d known, recalling their short time together with a fondness that couldn’t have been totally one-sided. They’d been good friends, sharing their dreams and hopes for the future. She’d told Jake how she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. He’d spoken of finding his family and joining Special Forces. They’d rarely argued, and she recalled a unique closeness. She’d thought of him as the older brother she’d always wanted and never had. Or were her memories skewed? She’d always believed Jake had liked her. But maybe he’d just used her friendship in an attempt to get to her father. If that had been his plan, he’d failed. To her knowledge, her father had never spoken to anyone about the adoptions. Not even to her.
Remembering she needed to pick up a few things, Cassidy stopped for gas and bought fresh milk at the convenience store. She ran the car through the wash and checked the tires for air before slipping back behind the wheel. She headed for home, determined to ignore Jake and his problems.
Cassidy stopped at a red light and started to toss the crumpled paper she’d left on the seat into the trash. But she noticed writing on the paper and looked more carefully. Numbers. A ten-digit phone number.
Curious, Cassidy punched the numbers into her car phone. As the light turned green, a bored-sounding female voice answered. “Password, please.”
Password?
Behind Cassidy, a car honked. “Hold on a sec.”
She pulled off the road and parked, then stared at the yellowed slip of paper while the bored voice requested again, “Password, please.”
Cassidy flipped over the paper and read the scrawled script aloud, “Blow back?”
She heard several clicks and then a different voice said, “One moment.”
Pleased with herself, Cassidy waited, wondering who would answer the other end of the line. She waited at least a minute or two and was about to hang up when a harried male voice finally responded. “Who are you working for? How did you get this number?”
Suddenly nervous as the voice demanded answers, Cassidy speculated about whom she was talking with and why he was acting as if she’d done something illegal. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”
Quickly she hung up the phone and then tossed the paper into her purse. She wouldn’t return to give it to Jake, but maybe she’d mail it. Then she remembered how he’d treated her. Maybe she wouldn’t bother.
Cassidy drove into Crescent Cove along sunny palm-lined streets, and slowly the tension left her shoulders. Her grip on the steering wheel eased. Her hometown usually had a relaxing effect on her. In Crescent Cove, the neighbors still knew one another and waved as Cassidy drove by. The kid next door mowed the lawn and children played in the yards and laughed on swing sets. If the state hadn’t been undergoing a drought and the county hadn’t been under water restrictions, the kids would be running under sprinklers. Instead, they made do with bikes and inline skates.
Her own lawn was turning brown, but tomorrow was her morning to water. Cassidy used the automatic opener and pulled in to her two-car garage, then closed the door behind her. Glad to be home in the house she’d inherited from her father, along with his small-town law practice, Cassidy opened the door that led into the kitchen she loved. The oak table she’d found at the flea market last month still needed another coat of varnish, but she was pleased by the effect it made under the curtains decorated with daisies.
A trash can lay on its side.
Cassidy straightened the can with a frown. Had another duck flown down the chimney? Cautiously she headed into the den and set her purse on the table. The morning sun usually shone brightly through the window, but she must have forgotten to open the curtains.
After her father died, she’d redecorated, painting the plastered walls a yellow that complemented the gleaming parquet floors. She’d bought colorful seascapes by local artists and added a homey touch to the couch with hand-embroidered pillows. Cassidy spoiled herself by buying fresh flowers every week. She’d picked sprigs of orange blossoms off her citrus tree out back, and the scents mingled in a flowery bouquet. She sniffed appreciatively and caught a whiff of smoke. With the drought conditions, everyone feared fires.
But this smelled like cigarette smoke.
The hair on the back of Cassidy’s neck stirred. Had someone been in the house? The next thought felt like a punch to her stomach. Suppose she wasn’t alone.
Cassidy didn’t hesitate. She whirled on her heel to head back toward the kitchen.
The curtain in the den moved. Was someone behind it? Or had a breeze caught it, flickering ominous shadows across the wood floor?
Cassidy changed direction. Heard a footstep that wasn’t hers. A thud.
Heart pumping, she raced down the hall toward the front door. Lost time twisting the dead bolt. Flung open the door.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Chapter Two
Cassidy screamed.
Before she could turn around, she glimpsed a gloved hand as the intruder slid an arm around her neck, yanked her back to his chest, placed a knife to her throat, slammed the front door. The blade bit skin, and the sting convinced Cassidy the man meant business. She held perfectly still, so frightened she could barely make her knees stiffen enough to hold her upright.
“There’s two hundred dollars—”
“Silence.”
The intruder put a black cap on Cassidy’s head and pulled it down over her eyes, blinding her.
Oh, God. If he didn’t want her money, what did he want? Cassidy knew the statistics. One in three women would be raped during their lifetime, but she’d never expected it to happen to her. In her own house. Without a chance to fight back.
Her brain kicked into overdrive. She shouldn’t fight. The fact that he’d bothered to blindfold her was so she couldn’t identify him. He probably intended to let her go.
Eventually.
She considered screaming again. But her neighbors wouldn’t hear her through the thick plaster walls or over the lawn mower still roaring next door.
She was on her own.
Cassidy trembled, her mouth dry as sandpaper, her stomach full of bile. She told herself not to fight, but the moment the knife left her throat, her instinct for self-preservation took over. She was no martyr. She had to try to save herself.
She swung her hips and shoulder to one side. Simultaneously she stomped on his foot and got lucky, digging her heel into his toes.
The man cursed. But blocked the front door.
She had only seconds and lunged to the right as she lifted the cap from her eyes. Picking up a vase as she ran, she threw it over her shoulder and heard the pane of glass beside the front door shatter.
Sliding across the front hallway, she knocked a chair into his path, raced through the dining room and back through the kitchen. If she could just make it to the porch door.
A gun’s chamber
clicked. “Take another step and I’ll shoot.”
Cassidy dived toward the doorknob. She heard the hiss of a bullet, which lodged in the door in front of her. Cassidy skidded to a halt.
“Turn around and you’re a dead woman.”
Cassidy froze. She still hadn’t seen the man’s face, just a gloved hand. She didn’t dare turn around as the footsteps approached. The cap came down over her head again, blinding her. The man gripped her arm, shoved her into a chair, tied her hands behind her back.
This couldn’t be happening. She would wake up from the nightmare at any moment. Blind, helpless, Cassidy fought back, fear howling through her. “What do you want?”
“Who do you work for?”
The question arrowed another shot of terror through her. That familiar question wasn’t what she’d expected, but she was too frightened to recall just where she’d heard it before. “I don’t work for anyone.”
The sudden slap of a palm against her face made her ears ring and her eyes tear. The man spoke as casually as if inviting her to breakfast. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It doesn’t matter much to me.”
Cassidy twisted her wrists in their bonds, but she couldn’t even hope to get free. There was no slack in the ties. Her wrists were already going numb. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Please don’t hurt me.”
“Who do you work for?” the man asked again.
The man’s tone was cold as death. She knew better than to give the same answer as she had before; that would only earn her another brutal slap.
“My father died last year. I inherited his law practice.”
Another brutal slap on the other cheek slammed her head sideways. Cassidy tasted blood in her mouth.
“I don’t care about your daddy. Who do you work for?”
“You mean my clients?”
Cassidy practiced family law. She didn’t defend murderers or drug smugglers. She couldn’t imagine which one of her clients this man was interested in. Could barely think with her head ringing, her cheeks on fire. But the sickening fear in her stomach was the worst.
The Hidden Years Page 2