But she wasn’t brave enough. There was too much fear inside her. Fear that he’d reject her. Turn away from her. Or worse, laugh at her desperate attempt at seduction. She wasn’t a fiery femme fatale. She was just pudgy little Hope, with the cartload of shattered dreams, foolishly wishing for things she was never going to have.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, because you sound pathetic, a waspish voice snapped inside her mind, and she took a deep breath, knowing that voice was right. Yes, she’d lost the most precious things in her life, but there were still wonders to be seen. She knew that. She might have been broken and scraped and scarred inside, but she could still look out at the world and let the bitterness soften to a dull, gnawing ache when she saw that some dreams survived. Despite everything that she’d been through, she still believed in the miracle. Love. Beauty. Warmth and family. It just…it just wasn’t meant to be hers, and that, she thought, trying to choke down the trembling knot of emotion in her throat, hurt worse than not believing in anything at all.
Shivering, she tried to look away from the raw, naked hunger in Riley’s eyes, but she couldn’t. Her mouth quivered, and she lifted her hand, once again covering her lips with her cold fingers. His dark gaze narrowed, and then he suddenly set the coffee mug on her dressing table and took a step toward her, while the soft sound of Kellan whistling to himself in Millie’s bedroom was drowned out by the roaring surge of her pulse in her ears. Riley had a certain look about him, one of purpose and intent, and Hope trembled, wondering if he was actually going to kiss her. And no idea what she would do if he did. Slap him? Kiss him back? Or dissolve into a puddle of emotional overload and completely fall apart?
The air in the room went thick, like a physical thing against her skin, and something dangerous flared up between them, electric and sharp, jarring her with its force. Riley just kept coming across the room, drawing nearer, his expression set in fierce, determined lines. His nostrils flared as he pulled in her scent, so close now that she could see the pattern of sexy stubble that covered his jaw, see the flecks of navy in his beautiful eyes. So close she could almost feel his heat against her skin…and then the shrill cry of the phone rang out through the house. Hope instantly jumped, flinching, taking a shaky, embarrassed step away from him. And then another. Lowering her gaze, she mumbled something about the phone and rushed from the room, into the hall, where a cordless cradle sat on an antique table.
“Hello?” she said, struggling to sound calm as she put the phone to her ear.
“Would you listen to that?” purred a deep, familiar voice over the faint, crackling connection. “Been a long time since I’ve heard that sweet, husky sound. Did you miss me, sweetheart?”
Hope closed her eyes against the nauseating wave of shock that slammed through her system. Gripping the phone with both hands, she was careful to keep her voice low as she hissed, “How did you get this number?”
“How do you think?” Neal asked with a low, taunting thread of laughter. “My family has connections, Hope. And they never did buy your version of how things went down that night. They still think I’m the poor, betrayed little husband who got blamed for something I didn’t do. And you…well, they think you’re the same lying little slut that they’ve always thought you were.”
She was acutely aware of Riley standing close behind her, the heat of his big, powerful body somehow giving her strength as she said, “What do you want?”
“Just thought you’d want to know that I’m a free man now.”
“That’s impossible,” she whispered, wondering how he’d managed to get out after only a handful of years. He must have made parole. She’d known it was a possibility—one she refused to let herself think about. It was easier just to picture him rotting away in a cell for the rest of his life, which was what the bastard deserved.
“Nothing’s impossible,” he drawled, “if you have the money to get what you want.”
“What? Did your pathetic daddy bribe the parole board?”
His low, slick laughter made her skin crawl. “Is that any way to talk about your in-laws?”
“We’re divorced, Neal. And it’s against the law for you to contact me. Do it again and you’ll be sorry.”
Though she wanted to slam the phone back into its cradle, Hope forced herself to set it down gently as she fought back an angry wave of tears, determined to keep them from falling. Not over a pathetic bastard like Neal Capshaw.
God, this was all she needed now. How much more crap could get dumped on her head? Riley. Neal. Those ominous warnings that her and Millie’s lives could be in danger, accompanied now by the sickening possibility that Neal could be looking to cause trouble. Just one would be a difficulty in itself, but handling them all at the same time was going to be damn near impossible. Not that she had any choice. It was either stand her ground or lie down and let them run roughshod over her, and she’d already had enough of playing the doormat to last her a lifetime.
Bracing herself, she did her best to plaster on a bright smile as she turned toward Riley, intending to just walk around him, when he reached out and took hold of her arm again, his long fingers locking around her bicep in a hold that was beginning to become oddly familiar. Lifting her brows, she said, “Something wrong?”
He stared into her eyes, searching…seeking, and she tried not to flinch, as if he were brushing against emotional scar tissue too sensitive to touch. Slowly, he said, “You tell me, Hope.”
Her gaze slid away from his, focusing on a distant point at the other end of the hall. “I’m sure you need to be getting on with your search out in the woods, and I don’t really have time to chat right now, Ri. I need to get back downstairs and make sure they’re doing okay in the kitchen.”
As if he didn’t notice her trying to pull away from him, he kept his fingers locked around her arm. “Who was on the phone?”
“The phone? Oh, um, no one important,” she murmured, hoping for an interruption that would allow her to go and find someplace quiet, where she could collect herself. “And nothing I can’t handle.”
Obviously unwilling to play the game, he reached out with his other hand and pulled her chin around, forcing her to meet his heavy-lidded gaze as he said, “You’re afraid of him.”
“Of Neal?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “He’s too pathetic to be afraid of.”
He drew in a deep breath, the sexy creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he grunted, “You’re lying.”
“And what if I am?” she snapped, just wanting to get away. Neal was not someone she discussed with anyone. Not even with Millie. She’d already hashed out the stupidity of getting involved with a man like Neal Capshaw with a whole slew of therapists, after it’d all come to a crashing end, and felt no better for it when the medical bills had finally been paid.
Of course, Riley wasn’t ready to let it go, reminding her of a dog with a bone. “What did that son of a bitch do to you? And this time, I want an answer,” he told her, a gritty, graveled edge to his words that revealed so much. His protective instincts. His honor. As well as what he thought of men who tried to bully women.
“You want an answer, huh?” she breathed out with a soft, brittle burst of laughter. “Come on, Ri. Haven’t you learned by now that we seldom, if ever, actually get what we want?”
She could tell it’d been the wrong thing to say the instant the words left her mouth. His expression tightened, as if in pain, and the next thing she knew, he was pushing her against the magnolia-colored hallway wall, trapping her there, his long fingers wrapped around her biceps, holding her in place. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, staring up into his dark, glittering eyes. Her lips quivered, throat tight, while the searing heat of his gaze pressed against her skin like a physical touch, making her melt and burn in places that had been cold for too damn long.
“Stop trying to run away from me and just answer the goddamn question,” he rasped in a low, almost silent growl, the primal sound shivering across her stunne
d nerve endings. Her body tingled, as if she’d placed her fingertips against a live current, the electricity arcing through her body, vibrant and piercing and warm. It made her shaky. Made her crazed for something that she didn’t understand.
She opened her mouth, ready to say God only knew what, but nothing would come out. No explanations. No denials. Just a gasping, breathless silence that somehow seemed to push him further toward the edge of some strange, gripping emotion. It was like a wild, shocking blend of lust and frustration and worry, all jumbled into one seething mass.
“Your heart is racing,” he said in a rough voice, shifting his right hand until he could press the callused pad of his thumb against the rapid quiver of her pulse at the base of her throat. “Why are you so afraid?”
She wet her bottom lip, struggling to finally find her voice. “D-didn’t you tell me that I should be scared? On guard? Ready for catastrophe?”
“Yeah, I did. And you should be. But you weren’t upset until that phone call.” The sudden touch of his hand against the side of her face was too much for her, his thumb stroking the shivering corner of her mouth, and she panicked as she felt her grip on the tattered edges of her control begin to slip from her grasp. She made a small, breathless sound of panic, and he leaned closer, pressing the heat of his body against her, anchoring her in place.
“Jesus, Riley,” she gasped, acutely aware of the solid weight of his gun against her rib cage as she realized he was wearing a shoulder holster beneath the open flannel he’d layered over his T-shirt. “What are you doing?”
He kept his gaze on her mouth, even as he slowly shook his head. “Damned if I know,” he answered. “But it’s going to be one hell of a mistake.”
“What is?”
“This,” he groaned, lowering his head, but she ducked at the last second, and his mouth grazed her cheek.
Oh, God. Sparks of sensation skittered across her skin, and she moaned deep in her throat, the husky, provocative sound taking her by surprise. It hadn’t sounded like her, like the woman she knew, and she had the oddest sensation that a stranger was taking over her body. One who wanted to crawl her way under Riley Buchanan’s skin and become a part of him, whether he broke her heart again or not. Who wanted to strip off her clothes and pull him into her body, losing herself in the violent, desperate hunger of his possession.
“Kiss me, Hope,” he whispered in a velvet-rough voice within the sensitive hollow of her ear, and his lower body pressed against hers, the thick, enormous ridge of his hardened cock leaving no doubt that however else he felt about her, he wanted her in that moment.
She swallowed, struggling to force out a shaky, tremulous “I can’t,” when what she really wanted was to scream “Yes!”
“I know it’s stupid,” he rasped, threading his fingers through her hair, holding her head in place as he pressed his lips against the sensitive edge of her jaw, while her own hands curved greedily around the hard, powerful bulge of his biceps. “I know I don’t have any right to touch you, not after what I did to you. But I need it. It’s driving me crazy, wondering if you really taste as good as I remember. If your mouth can really be that hot. Your lips that soft.”
She blinked, her eyes heavy, his mouth so close now she could feel the delicious heat of his breath. Taste it. And then the sound of the kitchen door opening downstairs broke the spell, jarring them back to awareness. Riley instantly released his hold on her, taking a step back as they heard Millie making her way up the stairs. He stared into her eyes, his throat working, looking as if he wanted to say something…but couldn’t find the words. A swarm of emotions flashed through his dark, beautiful gaze, stunning her with their intensity, and then he shook his head with a sharp, decisive motion. Grabbing the pen and small tablet for messages that sat beside the phone, he wrote down what looked like a number. Ripping off the sheet, he turned and handed it to her, then walked away, saying a gruff good-morning to Millie as he passed her on the stairs.
Hope watched as her aunt turned right down the hallway, walking away without even seeing her slumped there against the wall, then heard Kellan’s deep voice telling Millie hello. She knew she needed to pull her aunt aside and explain about the phone call. Warn her that there might be even more trouble on the way. But her legs were too shaky to support her, much less walk.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wall, unable to think about what had almost happened with Riley. It was too dangerous, too fragile, even for the guarded privacy of her mind. She should focus on Neal instead, but she was almost too afraid to think of what kind of stunt he might try to pull, now that he was a free man. It made her blood curl to think of facing him again, but she had to be ready, in case he decided to make an appearance. That was all she needed. One more worry to hang over her head.
It sucked, but she didn’t have time to stand there and wallow in doubts and fear. Opening her eyes, she ground her jaw, determined not to let them control her, and looked down at the note that Riley had given her. She struggled to steady her shaking hand as she read what he’d written.
It was his cell phone number, followed by two brief sentences.
Call me if anything weird happens today, or if you get scared. I’ll be close by.
As far as messages went, it wasn’t anything to fall apart over. But there was something inherently telling in the simple words that made her chest feel tight, her throat quivering with emotion. Taking a deep breath, Hope pressed the small piece of paper to her mouth for a moment, then quickly tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans and started down the hall.
CHAPTER SIX
Monday morning
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, Riley’s tension had reached the breaking point. Despite their nearly constant digging deep in the forest, he had nothing more to show for it than a grinding sense of desperation in both his mind and his gut. He knew that every minute he spent in Purity put Hope’s and Millie’s lives in danger, but that wasn’t the only thing that had him on edge. Despite his determination, the stubborn woman still hadn’t answered his questions about her ex, and Riley was ready to snap.
You could always solve the problem and just make the call. Find out on your own just what kind of prick Neal Capshaw is. Find out why Hope is so afraid of him.
It was true, damn it. But as he glared at the rich, moss-covered floor of the forest, he knew he couldn’t do it. To seek out the answer behind her back felt like a form of betrayal, and God only knew he’d already betrayed her enough. He wanted to hear the truth from Hope, and knew that in some perverse way, it was a symbol of his pathetic need for proof that she trusted him. Not that he’d ever given her any reason to trust him with her secrets. Even now, he was still lying to her. Still doing his best to sugarcoat the truth. The truth being that he posed an even bigger threat to her safety than her ex, no matter how despicable the man had been.
Drawing in a deep breath of the damp, forest-scented air, Riley tried to clear his mind and focus on his search for the Marker, but he could not get the bad feeling out of his gut. The one that said this was all going to end in disaster, with him standing at the center, pulling everyone down with him into the churning slime, like a toxic sinkhole of destruction.
Wiping his face on his sleeve, he gritted his teeth and dug the blade of the shovel back into the rich earth, while bitterly wondering once again if this was all some kind of maniacal cosmic joke. One whose punch line was going to be nothing more than rot and blood and gore. Violence and pain and deception. The last thing in the world that he wanted was to drag Hope into the middle of it all, and yet here he was, sucking her into the nightmare that he’d always known was coming.
He couldn’t leave, and yet, when it all crashed down on him, he didn’t want to be anywhere near Purity. He could feel his control slipping a little further each day, his gut constantly knotted with fear at what he was sliding into.
Though he did his best to hide it, that cold burn of fear never left him. Not since that night when everything he’
d thought would be his had been ripped away. Bam!…and it was gone. Taken away from him forever. And since then, the fear had been like a cancer eating away at his insides, slowly scraping him raw. Taking him deeper, bit by bit, into a deep, dark well of loathing.
Ironic, how after all the ribbing Ian had given him over the years—all the wisecracks about that ridiculous nickname—that it was his older brother who had managed to come through all this like the saintly one. Ian had killed the Casus who had been hunting him, saved his woman, and was now a part of a fight that would save lives, make a difference, while Riley was the walking time bomb of destruction. He would do what he could, but the simple fact was that he wouldn’t be around long enough to truly make an impact. He only prayed that he could find a way to help Hope in the time that he had left by getting the Marker off her land. And God willing, have a chance to face the man who’d put that haunted look in her eyes.
Riley hated that she wouldn’t confide in him. Wouldn’t tell him what was wrong…what she was afraid of. He’d seen that look on enough faces to recognize it for what it was. The cold, stark burn of fear. When he’d seen it in Hope’s beautiful eyes yesterday morning, it’d screwed with his head, and damn near caused him to make the mother of all mistakes.
It had been madness for him to try to kiss her. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, but then that was the problem. He hadn’t. There’d been no rational thought, his head overloaded with the savage, visceral need to get her mouth beneath his. Her body…her flesh. To feel the provocative slide of her blood down his throat, warm and thick and impossibly delicious, at the same time she pulsed around his cock in a long, wet, mind-shattering release.
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