“I’m going to call my buddy, Kyle Sommerville, tonight. He rides with them. I’ll see if he’s heard anything.” Bridger stands from the table indicating that’s all the information he has to share.
“Think he’ll know something?” Cat asks him as she stands up too.
He turns to her. “Maybe, and if he does, he still might not tell me anything, but I figure it’s worth a shot.”
“Well, thank you,” Cat says as she steps into Bridger, wrapping her hands around his waist. He seems surprised for a moment. The man is not the huggy-feely type. But then his face softens, his arms come around her upper back, and he gives her a quick squeeze before releasing her.
I walk Bridger to the door, noting that Cat sits back down to continue eating her soup. Still, to make sure she can’t hear, I step out onto the small porch behind him and pull the door shut behind me. He turns, knowing I’m here seeking a private word.
“You think it was Kevin behind this?” I ask to make sure we’re on the same page.
“Yup. Same as you.”
“Then I’m going to pay him a visit after Cat goes to sleep tonight,” I say with a nod. “I’ll get the truth.”
“Yeah, you are absolutely not going to do that,” Bridger says gruffly and steps into me. “You’re going to let the police handle this.”
I might not have his bulk but I stand eye to eye with him, so I lean into him rather than back. “That fucker hired someone to kill Cat. Someone who didn’t intend to just do it easily. He was going to rape her first. Not going to let that slide.”
Bridger doesn’t physically back away, but his voice softens a bit. “I get it, man. You care for her and you want vengeance. But it’s not going to make anything better for her. If you go there tonight and beat the shit out of him, the only one who that is making feel better is you. Trust me… you’re best served to go back in there and hold that girl tonight. She needs that more than you running off on a fool’s errand.”
In that moment, I hate him for being right, calm, and wise. I hate he can take the high road and still be able to sleep tonight, but if I do as he asks and take the high road, I’m going to burn from the inside-out with my failure to protect her.
Still, I can’t disagree with him that at least for tonight, Cat needs me by her side, not running off to avenge her. So, I nod at him curtly and turn to head back inside.
Before my hand touches the knob, Bridger asks in a low voice that’s sure not to filter down to the cops pacing around the yard with their flashlights. “You ever coming back to The Silo?”
I look over my shoulder at him.
His face is inscrutable.
I shrug and say, “No immediate plans, but if I do, it will be with Cat.”
Bridger lets out a deep chuckle of understanding as I walk back into the apartment where I find Cat at the sink, washing out her bowl. She doesn’t turn to face me but instead asks, “Everything okay?”
“I’m the one who should be asking you that,” I say as I walk up behind her. Reaching around with my hands, I take the bowl from her and place it in the sink, then turn her around to face me. She does so easily, looking up at me with curiosity. Her eyes are wan, but still she smiles at me.
My eyes drop to the bandage and with slightly shaky hands, I peel the tape and gauze back so I can see for myself.
A thin, red line about three inches long, about two inches above her left collarbone. The air wheezes out of my chest as I realize just how much worse it could be. Placing the bandage back in place, I press the tape onto her skin and look up at her with an encouraging smile that takes all my willpower to give her.
“Not bad at all,” I say. Her eyes shine with amusement at me that I’m trying to downplay what happened, just to take the weight and magnitude off her shoulders a bit.
“You need to eat,” she says, hands sliding up to my chest. “And you still haven’t told me if Tarryn’s okay?”
My hands capture hers, and I hold them in place right over my heart. “Tarryn’s fine. She’s having surgery tomorrow on her ankle, and I’ve asked her to stop contacting me.”
“Rand,” Cat says in a censuring tone.
“Don’t, Cat,” I warn her, still trying to gentle my words as she’s had a shittier day than I have. “You let me handle Tarryn and trust I’m doing what’s right and I’m doing it in a way that’s not intentionally hurtful, okay?”
Immediately, her cheeks turn pink and her gaze drops. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have…”
“Cat,” I say softly but firmly to cut her off, and she looks back up. “Let’s talk about you, okay?”
“Me?”
“Yeah… and me.”
“And you?” she asks hesitantly.
“Let’s talk about us and if there’s a concept of us,” I clarify with a smile, taking her by the hand and walking her into the living room. My desire is to walk her right into the bedroom so I can undress her, examine her fully to make sure I’m not missing anything, and then pull her into bed where I’d also really like to fuck her but know that I’ll ultimately just end up holding her.
But this conversation needs some boundaries, so it’s to the couch I lead us. She takes a seat and rather than sit beside her, I plop my butt on the coffee table instead where our knees bump together.
She frowns and says, “Uh-oh… this is serious.”
“Yeah,” I admit.
“You want me to leave?” she asks softly, her eyes shining at me with some understanding she thinks I need but totally don’t want.
“No, I don’t want you to leave,” I tell her with exasperation as I take her hands. “I want to talk about you staying… forever, if you want.”
“Staying?” she asks carefully. “You mean more than just here at the apartment with you?”
I don’t answer her directly but rather turn back to where we had left things at the Snake River Brewery before I’d got called away by Tarryn. “You told me tonight that you were afraid that I was going to wake up one day and realize you’re not the person I’d want to give the time of day to.”
She nods, lips pursed in an ashamed grimace.
“Well, my fears are a little different,” I tell her as I press forward. “I’m afraid I’m going to wake up one day and you’ll be gone because I didn’t make the bold move to tell you how I’m feeling. I know you said you’re afraid you can’t give me what I’m expecting, and the ironic thing is, you already give me that and so much more, and you don’t even realize it.”
“Rand,” she says, and she sounds desperate. Her face is pale and she looks decidedly uncomfortable, but I decide to push forward.
“I’m crazy about you, Cat,” I tell her firmly, looking her dead in the eye. “That call tonight from Lorelei was my wake-up call and I realized I was not ready to lose you in any fashion. I’m falling in love with you and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but you need to know for a woman who doesn’t think she amounts to much, you’re pretty much amounting to my everything.”
Cat blinks at me, her eyes getting shiny. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do and one day, you’ll believe it too,” I tell her with utter confidence.
“I don’t know if I can love,” she whispers fearfully. “I mean… look at what I know of it. A cold, derelict mother who only wants to use me and a dead husband who got off on humiliating me… a father who abandoned me. I don’t know what it even means to care for someone.”
“That’s bullshit, Cat, and you know it,” I tell her. “The mere fact you’re worried about not giving me what I need tells me you care for me. Hell, the fact that you were more worried about how Tarryn was tonight than yourself tells me that you’ve got a heart the size of this state.”
She blinks at me again, and I can see she’s confused. She even shakes her head in silent denial, opens her mouth to do the same, and then seems to reconsider because she closes it just as quickly. Her gaze slides over to my bookshelf that holds photographs of me competing and with my famil
y. It tells of a happy, fulfilled life surrounded by people who love and care for me.
And then she totally changes the subject.
At least I think it’s a change of subject.
“If Kevin did this… hired someone to kill me, do you think that’s something within his very makeup or was it learned behavior from maybe his father… to sort of take what you want?”
Well, shit. That’s a deep as hell question and I don’t know much about Kevin or Samuel. She has to have a reason for asking it, but I’m not sure what she’s looking for, so I’m a little hesitant when I say, “I have to believe that his father’s influence played a role. His father pretty much taught him he could have what he wanted without working for it. You’re the example of that. He let that shit have you… someone beautiful, amazing, and totally beyond his reach, and he just handed you over without his son even earning the right to breathe the same air as you.”
She nods, gaze coming back to me. “I think that’s probably true. Although Richard doesn’t seem to have that same entitlement.”
“Or maybe he’s involved in this with Kevin and we just don’t know it,” I point out.
“Also true,” she says softly, and then changes subjects again. “I wonder what type of influence my father would have been on me. You know, if he’d have stuck around… been involved in my life.”
“You don’t know that he abandoned you,” I say carefully, so she’s not making conclusions about a situation she truly knows nothing about.
“That’s what my mom says,” she says bitterly. “But I can never trust what she says, so who knows?”
“Well, you didn’t have very good role models in your life,” I tell her, as this is something I am sure about. “And yet, you’re still an incredibly caring and empathetic woman, so I’m going to have to say that part is inside of you somehow. Maybe that’s part of your dad.”
Her smile softens, lips curved in a wistful arc while her eyes get dreamy. “You know… if I get money from Samuel’s estate, I think I’m going to try to find my dad. It may be a chase after nothing, but it seems the right thing to do if I were to have a windfall of some sort.”
“That inheritance is not a windfall,” I remind her. “It’s your due under the law as his wife. And we’re going to make sure you get every penny.”
She nods with another smile, and then yawns. It’s my cue that this deep conversation is over for now. While that part of me that is dying for her to admit her feelings for me wants to bully her into it, I think enough has been said tonight to at least make her think. She knows that this is more than just casual for me, so now I really just need to sit back and let her try to figure things out.
Chapter 22
Cat
I walk into The Silo with my head held high but my palms sweating fiercely. While my head tells me this is a good idea, my heart is already hurting in anticipation of what Rand will think.
It’s been four days since I was attacked and things have not gotten any clearer to me. In fact, I feel like I’m struggling to stay afloat in muddied waters.
Detective Blanton brought Kevin in for questioning the very next morning. According to the detective, Kevin acted shocked he was being questioned in relation to the attack and of course, denied any involvement. He was released after two hours of being grilled and maintaining a consistent refusal to admit to hiring someone to kill me.
This was frustrating, especially because the detective told me he didn’t buy Kevin’s innocent act for a moment. He had asked Kevin about the supposed will he claimed cut me out, and after a lot of hemming and hawing on his part, he did finally admit there wasn’t another will. He said he didn’t believe I deserved anything and that’s the reason why he said there was. He didn’t even act abashed that he kicked me out of my home on a lie.
This of course raised a huge, red flag to the detective and has motivated him to push harder to find my attacker, who could then possibly turn on Kevin.
The other thing that happened was Richard called me that evening, as apparently he’d been questioned by the detective via telephone immediately after Kevin was. If I can believe him, and I think I can, Richard was appalled that Kevin claimed there was another will and used that to kick me out of the house. He confirmed for me what Bridger had revealed just four days ago.
I was going to get five million dollars, the Jackson house, and apparently yearly profits in the amount of ten percent. Richard didn’t seem put out in the slightest. The best thing that happened was he assured me Kevin had vacated the house today to return to Vegas and I could move back immediately if I wanted. He also opened up a bank account in my name and transferred some immediate funds until he could get a larger transfer done, as well as turned my credit cards back on, not that it mattered. I had cut those cards up days ago, as I didn’t want anything reminding me that I was once Catherine Vaughn. I even went and got a new Wyoming driver’s license with my maiden name of Lyons, although I hadn’t decided whether or not to stay here.
About the only thing I have decided is that Rand has become important enough to me that I’ve decided to cut him loose.
I know he has faith in me.
I know he sees something within me that I just can’t seem to recognize myself.
I know, without a doubt, that he believes we could have something solid and long lasting between us.
Unfortunately, I just don’t believe that.
While it warmed me down to my toes when he told me that he was crazy about me and was falling in love with me, cold reality soon settled in as I lay in his arms that night. I thought about all the things that make me a wretched human being and felt myself growing colder on the inside, a slithering cloud of blackness filling me up.
I’m a woman who let dozens of men fuck me.
Defile me.
Humiliate me.
I let my husband force me to have sex with people who were as vile and disgusting as he was.
I let him make me have sex with his own son, for God’s sake.
I sat there like a doormat and took that abuse for years, and why did I do it?
Because the money and having a place to live was more important than my self-respect. At any time, I could have walked out that door and gone back to stripping. It may not have been the best life, but it was an honest one, and I could have gotten right back up on that stage and been able to support myself just fine.
But if I’m being absolutely honest with myself, and reflecting on the true nature of myself so I can decide what to do about Rand, then I have to admit I was perfectly willing to let myself be defiled and humiliated so I could keep the fancy house, Mercedes, and designer clothing. I whored myself out for a cushy life and that right there tells me all I need to know about my true character.
And that is not someone who would ever be worthy of Rand Bishop.
The only problem was that I didn’t know how to go about breaking it off. We spent the weekend together just hanging out in the apartment, fucking constantly. It was desperately pathetic on my part because I wanted to hold onto the physical pleasure with him just a little bit longer, knowing that there would never be another man comparable to him in my bed. It goes without saying there will never be another who is comparable in my heart either. Since I’m being honest about all the terrible things that make up Cat Lyons, I can also be truthful and admit I do love Rand. I love him enough to make sure he does far better than me.
All weekend, Rand was careful in his words with me, preferring to take more of a backseat when it came to talking about the future or feelings. I think he was giving me “space” to come to the same conclusions he did, but all I realized is that while I cared for him more than anything in this world, I was nowhere near good enough for him.
I simply don’t deserve him.
He absolutely doesn’t deserve a woman like me.
We both went back to work on Monday as usual—him to the tattoo shop and me to the Hayes’ campaign headquarters—and it killed me to come home la
st night to find he made dinner for us. It was the perfect picture of domesticity, and it made me realize I could not let his hope continue to build.
So when I got up this morning for work, I knew I needed to send a decisive message to him that I was most certainly not the one for him. The note on the kitchen table telling him I was spending the evening at The Silo should do the trick, even though I’m sick to my stomach about it.
I need to stay strong. This is the best way… to remind him of who I am deep down so he can realize his heart is being wasted on someone like me.
Walking up to the bar, I glance around at the patrons. I should just choose someone, fuck him fast, and get it over with. That will, for me at least, cut the ties to Rand. Once I’m with someone else, I know it’s over.
Instead, I decide to order a drink to calm my nerves. I take a seat at the bar and order a glass of wine, sipping on it while contemplating how much my life sucks at this moment. Two men approach me, but I decline the invitation. I tell myself I’m enjoying my wine and want to finish it first, although truthfully, I don’t even know what kind I’m sipping.
“Odd… seeing you here,” I hear from behind me and recognize the gravel-like timber to Bridger’s voice. I don’t even bother to look at him as he takes the seat next to me.
“Why’s that?” I ask blandly.
“You’ve been absent for a while… you and Rand wrapped up in each other. It’s just odd you’re here now. Without him.”
I shrug and still don’t look at him.
A sip of wine.
Staring blankly at the bar top.
“I talked to my buddy, Kyle,” Bridger says in a low voice, thankfully leaving the subject of Rand and me alone. “He was noncommittal on whether he could identify the guy based on the description. I sort of got the impression he was going to poke around and find out what he could before he decides if he’s going to help.”
“What does that mean?” I ask as I swivel my stool so I’m facing Bridger.
Wicked Need (The Wicked Horse #3) Page 19