by Jeanne Adams
Torie winked at him, surprising him. “Taking into account the current state of the property.”
“Very good,” Kuhman said, smiling. Turning to Pam, he added, “Very, very shrewd, your friend.”
Back at the hotel, she surveyed her meager wardrobe. Tomorrow, shopping.
“I guess I should say more shopping,” she said, flipping the hangers of the gorgeous dresses she’d been coerced to buy. With them sitting in the closet, she had resigned herself to going to the partner’s dinner. “God, I’m tired of shopping.”
The lease for the house caught her eye. That was going to be shopping she’d enjoy. Furniture. Wallpaper. It would be a blast to work with Pam to set both houses back to their glory.
Things would change for the better.
It went right along with the other changes she was feeling. It was as if she’d been ill for a long time, and was finally feeling better, returning to health and energy. She felt like she had a new lease on life.
The phone rang before she could think anymore about the dinner.
“Hello?” It was the front desk. They had flowers for her.
“Would you like us to send a bellman up with them?”
“Yes, please.” Who would be sending her flowers? Her firm? They’d sent the ones in the hospital, but those had been destroyed at the Extended Suites, after the car fire. She grimaced at the thought. So much had happened in the span of a few short weeks.
“A month now,” she counted aloud. “More than a month.”
A knock at the door stopped her musings.
The flowers were gorgeous. She tipped the boy, and carried them to the desk. “Wow,” she said, burying her face in the roses. They actually had a scent, which was unusual for hot house roses. “Beautiful,” she breathed. Taking up the card, she ripped it open.
Save me a dance.
“Paul.” She breathed his name. A rush of…something, some feeling poured through her. It had been a long time since anyone had sent her flowers, simply because.
She thought of his apology, so heartfelt. Of his concern, his time and energy over the last few weeks. When had they shifted from dislike to…something else? Dare she call it love? On her part, anyway.
He felt something, too, though. That she knew.
With a light heart, she dressed and caught a cab to his office for the three-thirty meeting with Tibbet. Once Martha had showed her in, she waited until the door closed before she walked toward the desk.
Paul set the phone down, finishing a call. Without pausing at the chairs, she walked around the desk. It was a little awkward, but it felt right, so she leaned down to kiss him on the mouth.
She wanted it to be a token of appreciation, a thank you. More intimate, perhaps, than the words, but no more than a happy acknowledgment of his kindness.
Within seconds, it turned into far more.
“Torie,” he murmured, sliding his hands into her hair and bringing her close. Without letting go, he stood and took her mouth in a searing kiss that rocked her to her shoes. “I missed you,” he said, breaking the kiss long enough to utter the words before diving back in, firing her senses with passionate kisses.
Striving for balance, she gripped his waist, swayed toward him. Just as their bodies met, the phone on the desk buzzed.
They whipped apart as if they’d been shocked.
“Jesus,” Paul gasped, nearly falling into his chair. He took a deep breath and pressed the button. “Yes?”
To Torie he sounded breathless, impatient.
“Sorry to disturb you, but Detective Tibbet is on his way up.”
“Thank you.” Paul was curt, and cut her off. Torie had moved to the other side of the desk, putting distance between them. Paul wasn’t interested in distance. He came around to stand in front of her, pull her to her feet.
“What was that?” He didn’t wait for her to speak. “Never mind. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her under his chin and holding on as if she were a lifeline and he a drowning man.
“Are you okay?” she managed to say, her face muffled into his shirt.
“No,” he said, and she could hear the unsteady beat of his heart. “Yes.”
“Which is it?” she asked, smiling. It felt good to be in his arms. There were things they had to talk about, but for the moment, it felt exactly right.
“Do you forgive me?”
“I think so. Maybe.”
“Then it’s both.”
“That’s a good lawyerlike answer,” she said with a lighter heart.
He laughed, and she felt as well as heard the rumble of it.
“Tibbet’s probably here.” She pulled back, looked at his face. “You have lipstick on your cheek.”
“Do I?” he said softly, gazing into her eyes. “I’ll have to do something about that.” He made no move to let her go.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“Ah, is that what the kiss was for?”
She nodded, adding, “It was supposed to be a friendly gesture.”
“Back to the Truce-with-Torie?”
She nodded, unable to read the intense look in his dark eyes.
“Good. We’ll talk about that. In the meantime,” he said, lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers in a clinging, gentle touch. “We should talk about the past.”
Her senses were so fired up, so mixed up, she nearly missed what he’d said.
“What? The past?”
Paul closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked sober, and Torie could see the traces of a sleepless night in his pallor.
“What is it Paul? What happened?” She put her hands on his face, keeping his gaze on hers, forcing him to face her.
“I had a visitor last night,” he said, letting her go when she began to struggle in his grasp.
“What do you mean? What kind of visitor?”
Paul took her hand, led her to where a counter held a coffee area and several bottles of water. Handing her a bottle and several napkins, he said, “You wore the lipstick. Help me get it off, will you?”
He wouldn’t say anything until she’d completed the task. It surprised her slightly when he took the damp cloth and dabbed at her cheek. “I transferred some right back to you, it appears,” he said, smiling. The smile was warm, open. Different.
The way he was looking at her made her want to shiver. It was as if he were looking through her, seeing something no one else saw. It scared her.
“You said the past. And that you had a visitor. What’s going on?”
He led her back to the chairs and they sat down. He continued to hold her hand. “Tibbet decided that perhaps your stalker would come after me. Since the mystery shooter tried for me once, and failed, he decided to stake out my place, lie in wait.”
“Tibbet?”
“Not personally, but when shots were fired, he was on scene pretty quick.”
“You were shot at?” Torie squeaked. “Again? Last night?” Oh, my God. Would it never end?
“Yeah, but they didn’t catch the guy. Problem is, it put our two culprits who messed with the computer systems in the clear as your stalker.”
“But Paul, someone shot at you. Again. At your home.” She could hardly take it in. The shots at the restaurant were surreal, almost impossible to take in as gunfire. But the fact that someone had deliberately tried to shoot into his home, kill him that way, rocked her.
“Yeah. It scared the crap out of me, I can tell you. One more inch to the right…” He stopped short. “Well.”
“Oh, my God, Paul.” She gripped his hands. He’d nearly been killed. With horrible words between them. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.” He was in trouble, getting shot at because of her.
“I’m okay, Torie.”
“No, no. You’re not. Nothing’s okay about this.” She wrenched her hands from his and rushed to her feet, pacing the floor. “I should do what Todd did, go away, get away so no one gets hurt. I don’t want to be the reason one more person gets hurt.
”
“You’re not the reason,” Paul said, coming up behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “This guy’s nuts, Torie. Whoever he is, he’s responsible. Not you. You may be a catalyst, but he’s responsible for his actions.”
“I need to go. You—I can’t have you hurt, not because of me.”
He turned her gently, taking her once more into his arms. Wrapped tight, she still resisted. He had to let her go. She had to leave, protect him.
“No,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “We started this together, we’ll finish it together.”
His words took her back. She froze into immobility.
Started it?
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what happened at the party, eleven years ago.”
“Nothing happened, Paul,” she protested, but her voice was shaking.
“That’s not true, Torie, and you know it.”
“I’m okay.”
“That’s not the issue, not right now. I’m not sure it’s true, either, but we’ll have to get into that later. Right now, it’s about who did it.”
She wrenched away from him, going to the table, leaning against it, her arms wrapped around her middle. “No one did anything.”
Paul closed his eyes, sighed. “Yes, Torie, they did. Someone violated your human rights, your dignity, and your privacy. Someone took your choices away from you, and they nearly did a whole lot more. Why nothing had happened to you when I got there, I don’t know, but it’s a bloody miracle you weren’t raped.”
Horror flowed through her. “You told Tibbet.”
Paul nodded. “I had to. He thinks this may go all the way back to that incident, the fraternity party. He believes that whoever started that may be the one who is still stalking you. He thinks that inciting incident may have led Todd’s killer to murder him, and that this guy is so obsessed with you, he drives off or hurts anyone he thinks is getting too close.”
From horror to betrayal, Torie was awash with emotions. She’d come to the office so confident, so full of energy, and it had all disappeared.
Was her life ever going to stop seesawing from one extreme to another? Where would the next blow fall? Her family? Her mother?
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally managed to get out.
“I know,” Paul said, starting to move toward her. When she flinched, he stopped. “I didn’t want to spring this on you. I didn’t want to tell Tibbet, but he knew, Torie. He knew something had happened. Something bad.”
“What else did you tell him?”
“I told him everything.”
Shame and horror washed over her and she felt faint. From a long way away, she heard Paul calling her name. Sinking into the chair at the conference table, she wanted to vomit.
“Put your head down,” Paul ordered. “Breathe, Torie. Breathe.”
He’d seen the cop drive into the parking garage when he went out to get coffee. What was the detective going back?
Of course he’d come back, another part of his mind reasoned calmly. There’d been another incident.
Damn it, he’d missed. How could he have missed twice?
His luck, so phenomenal except for the lottery, hadn’t helped him kill Paul Jameson.
The police had nearly caught him. Instead, they’d milled around in the dark, looking for him while he sat in a tree, waiting for them to leave. He hated trees. He was still itching from something which had bitten him, as well as nursing scrapes and bruises from the fall he took getting down.
He had to get to Paul before the police talked to him again. They were digging deeper. Nothing connected him with anything in the past or present. He had no ties to Paul, or Torie.
And yet, they were his main priorities.
Now they both had to die. He’d seen them kiss. He’d seen them together.
She would never turn to him.
Knowing that, he made his plans.
Chapter Eighteen
“I trusted you,” Torie whispered, head between her knees.
“I know,” Paul murmured, crouching down to face her. “And I betrayed that trust. I didn’t mean to, not the first time. I did it deliberately this time, and you can hate me for it, but Tibbet believes that it may be the key to stopping whoever’s stalking you, killing people. If that’s true, then it might keep you safe, and alive. I can’t lose you again, Torie.”
“W-wh-what do you mean?”
A knock sounded, and Martha entered at Paul’s hail.
“Detective Tibbet is getting impatient, sir,” she said. Catching sight of Torie, she shifted from professional to concerned in the blink of an eye. “Good heavens, are you all right, Ms. Hagen?”
“Please,” Torie managed weakly. “After all this, please call me Torie. And no, I’m not okay, but I’ll get through it.”
Martha hurried to the refreshment area to get a bottle of water, pour some in a glass. She glanced at the open bottle, the napkins covered with lipstick, but she didn’t say a word. Handing Torie the glass, she went back and tidied up, pulling bottles out of a cabinet to replenish the stock.
“Drink a bit of water, it’ll help. Would you like something stronger, Torie? You look like you’ve had a shock.”
“No, the water’s fine, thanks,” Torie managed, taking a sip.
“Very well. Mister Jameson?”
“Give us a few more minutes, then send Tibbet in, please.”
“Yes, sir.” She slipped out without looking at Torie again, but Torie felt as if she’d crossed some invisible line with Martha. Finally accepted. How ironic.
“Torie, I’ll ask for forgiveness till the end of my days, but if it helps keep you safe, the secrets need to come out. That’s what Tibbet used to persuade me. Your safety. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” He said it softly, but defiantly. “The only thing for which I won’t apologize is for caring enough about you to want you safe.”
Before she could answer that, before it sank in, Tibbet was walking in the door.
“So, you let her know?”
Paul nodded, shaking the other man’s hand and motioning him into a chair at the conference table. Since Torie was already there, it was the logical place.
“Did you find your list?”
“I did.”
“List?” Torie roused enough to speak. “What list?”
Tibbet stepped into the breach, saving him from having to look even worse in Torie’s estimation.
“I figured that being a lawyer type, Paul here would have kept a list of everyone he knew who was at that party where your incident occurred.”
“Incident.” Her laugh was more of a harsh bark, and it held nothing of mirth. “It sounds so tame.”
“It wasn’t, I know,” Tibbet said in answer. “It was terrifying, and you felt shame and guilt. You were afraid everyone would judge you if they knew.”
Torie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was saying exactly what she felt. Exactly what she feared. “H-h-how did you know?”
“Because when something like this happens, it is how you feel. And you keep feeling that way until you decide not to, until you decide to put the shame and blame and judgment where it belongs.”
“W-where?”
“On the person who was cowardly, nasty, and sick enough to drug a woman, scare her to death, and probably rape her.”
“Oh-h-h,” Torie managed to say before the tears burst from her. His matter of fact recital of it, his complete acceptance, exploded the lock behind which she’d kept her feelings about the attack.
Paul was at her side in an instant, kneeling on the floor, supporting her as she sobbed out all the anger and fear. Both men waited patiently as she released the pent-up pain. Paul offered water and tissues, all while continuing to rub her back or hold her hand.
Finally, she began to master the flood, and choke back the tears. “I-I-I’m sorr-r-ry,” she said, her breath still catching.
“Take your time,
” Tibbet said quietly. “You need to get it out. Lance the wound so it can heal once and for all.”
She couldn’t answer that, but felt the rightness of it. Wiping her wet cheeks, she nodded. It was long past time she stopped hiding in her fear. Hadn’t she already decided that this morning? Hadn’t she already decided it was time to stop waiting around for life to come to her?
It was time to blaze a new path without looking over her shoulder in fear, or worrying about who would judge her if they knew.
She already knew who the “judgers” would be. She worked for them. Those who accepted her already knew. And they still accepted her.
Torie managed a watery smile, directed it to Paul, and thought about Pam. They knew. They had known from the beginning. They had never judged.
What she had mistaken for judgment on Paul’s part, and for betrayal, had been something else. She shied away from naming it. She had enough to deal with. But it hadn’t been disgust, or dislike. Of that, she was now sure.
“If you think you’re able, Ms. Hagen, I’d like to go over Paul’s list, see if you remember any of the men he’s named, if any of them have contacted you over the years, or if any of them ever bothered you on campus.”
Torie nodded. She pulled several more tissues, worked to regain her composure. This was important. It might save Paul’s life, and that was important.
He was important.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “We’ll do it together.”
He’d said that before. He’d said that a long time ago, too, as he’d sneaked her out of the fraternity house shaking and afraid. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll get you home,” he’d said. “We’ll do it together.”
A sense of peace came over her, a rightness about the time and place of letting this go. Sitting up in the chair, she took several sips of water to clear her throat.
“Let me see the list,” she croaked.
Paul rose and went to his desk. Unlocking a drawer, he came back with three copies of the list. His was handwritten, and notes were penned in the margins in several different colors, as if he’d written the notes at disparate times.