“I do want to talk to you about one thing.” It had been on her mind for the past few months. “Equine therapy.”
“I don’t want to lay on your couch and blabber, and I don’t want to ride horses to soothe my soul. I’m solid.”
Cosette unrolled her silverware and placed the linen napkin in her lap. “I’m talking about reconstructing and expanding that stable on the plantation, putting up fencing and opening an equine therapy practice. I’d get a loan and take care of the costs, and pay you rent, of course.”
“I don’t know, Cosette. People trying to heal on the same property as people who are in serious trouble sometimes... That might put them at risk.”
“I’ve thought of that, but we rarely have serious risks, and it’s far enough from the main house. I could even add an office area off the stables for more privacy, and have a road paved so clients could bypass the main house altogether... And if something dangerous is happening then I can cancel.”
“Five months ago, a sniper tried to take out Evan. He shot through the guest bedroom window. We didn’t know it was dangerous until it was. Remember that?”
Yes, she’d been at the clinic where she worked part-time when that happened. “Wilder, please consider it. I’ve written up a proposal and I’ll give you some information to help you understand how important this is. Patients are making great strides with this kind of therapy and the plantation is such a peaceful and lovely place.”
“Yet you moved out.”
Cosette finally felt like Jeffrey’s reign of terror had ended and she was safe. Now with Jody moved out, since she and Evan were married, it was odd living upstairs while Wilder lived downstairs. “Just think about it. I’ll give you the information when we get back into town.”
“Fine.”
The drive and boarding the plane were relatively quiet between them. Cosette pretended to read on the flight, but her mind was a muddied mess. What would come next? By the time they landed and retrieved their baggage, it was late. Wilder drove to her apartment, brooding. He pulled up in a visitor parking space. “You want me to come in?”
“Why would I want that?” Yes!
He gripped the steering wheel and sighed. “I guess I don’t know.” He hauled her bags to her door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes. Good. Okay.” She unlocked her door and Wilder gently grasped her arm.
“Cosette, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
“And you can tell me anything but you never do.” This man needed to open up. To talk out his feelings. Bottled up emotions eventually blew. With everything he’d seen being a SEAL, and his job, and the death of his sister, there was plenty for Wilder to discuss, to air out. Why wouldn’t he trust her?
“Anything... Okay, I’ll tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone.”
Finally.
“I’m vain about my hair. I know I’m a soldier and, you know, a legit tough guy...but I just like my hair.” He grinned, all charming like. It almost worked. She felt the smile forming deep in her heart, but caught it before it reached her lips.
“Well, yippee skippy, you’re vain. You’ve failed miserably at keeping that a secret. Everybody already knows it.” She rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. Wilder was far from vain, but it was obvious he cared about his hair. Though he didn’t flip it around or mess with it much... Well, he did comb his hands through it often. She assumed that was an anxious habit, or frustration. Maybe he just liked the feel.
“I’ll come up with something better tomorrow,” he deadpanned and flashed a commercial-worthy grin. But she was going into a dark and empty home—one she hoped was empty—so the grin fell flat.
“You do that.” Before he could respond, she hurried inside. Not that she wanted to be there, but she didn’t want to spar with Wilder—not when he was all flirty and enamoring. She was at war for her life with a stalker. She didn’t need to be at war for her heart with her boss. A cold chill swept up her spine. It’s fine. She was fine. Cosette flipped on a light. Nothing out of place. She rolled her bag into her bedroom.
She needed a long hot bath and a good night’s sleep.
Creak!
Cosette’s muscles locked up and her heart skittered into her throat.
She was hearing things. No one was in her house.
Blood pulsed in her ears, making a whooshing noise like a ceiling fan. It hurt to breathe. She listened. Nothing.
Letting out a relieved breath, she reached for the light switch.
Something rustled in her closet.
Her hand froze on the switch. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t flip on the light. Couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, the closet door burst open and a figure charged through the darkness, knocking her into the chest of drawers and sending her crashing to the floor as he exited her bedroom. She lay there in terror, unable to form a coherent thought. But she couldn’t lie here all night. Where did he go? Would he be back? She forced clarity to come, and after a moment, gasped and flipped on the light, while pain throbbed in her shoulder.
Her vanity stool had been knocked over, as if the dark-clad figure had tripped, hurrying to the closet to conceal himself before being caught red-handed. But doing what? She slowly searched her bedroom, her heart racing like a meteor. Her makeup was out of place. Something drew her attention to the mirror, and she clasped her burning throat. Drawn in lipstick on her vanity mirror was a huge heart.
Invisible creepy-crawlers skittered across her skin.
“Hey.”
Cosette screamed and grabbed the vase on her dresser, spinning to face her attacker.
Wilder held his palms up, gun in one hand. “Hey,” he repeated softly, soothingly. “It’s just me.” He inched toward her and slowly removed the vase from her grasp. “I had a feeling I needed to come back. Your front door was unlocked. Why didn’t you...” His glance took in the vanity mirror. “Is he still here?” He’d connected the dots.
She shook her head.
“Lock this behind me.” Like a bullet from a gun, he was out the front door.
Cosette did as he commanded, concentrating on breathing, but the lipstick heart was a huge menacing sign that Jeffrey had returned. In her home! She went through her half-opened drawers. He’d been going through her things!
How had he found her? Unless...what if it wasn’t Jeffrey? Beau had said he’d missed her. Could he have gotten here in time to do this? Yes, if he’d left Friday night, after Wilder had put him in his place. But would he have done this? Cosette couldn’t be sure and she hadn’t been able to clearly see the attacker or his build. Beau was shorter and stockier than long and lean Jeffrey.
She headed for the kitchen. A cup of tea was in order, in the attempt to settle her nerves.
Pounding on the door sent her jumping; she yelped.
“It’s me, Cosette.”
She opened the door and Wilder stalked inside, a deep scowl on his face. “Whoever was here is long gone now. I’ve called the police.”
Cosette nodded. He might be long gone now, but he wasn’t going to stay gone. After leading the way to the kitchen, she reached to turn on the sink faucet, but her hand trembled and water missed the kettle and ran down her arm.
“I think it’s time you come clean.”
Her hands continued to shake as she carried the teapot to the stove.
Wilder’s eyes softened as he took it from her, then led her to the table and into a chair. She didn’t want this—this feeling of needing him. This feeling of helplessness. But part of her relished that he was here. Near her. Protecting her. It wrapped around her heart and caressed it until it was warm and pliable.
No. She closed her eyes. She would not let herself react this way to him. She couldn’t.
“Cosette?” Wilder put the kettle on and then sat across from her, elbows leaning forward on the table “Di
d he hurt you?”
“No. I think I scared him. Interrupted him.”
“Interrupted him doing what?” His voice was low and icy.
“Drawing that heart. Sifting through my things.” She couldn’t stop shaking.
Wilder got up from the table and pulled her up and into his powerful arms. “How long has this been going on?”
Cosette couldn’t keep this a secret any longer, not from him, or from the police, who would be here any moment. How humiliating. She could kiss the equine therapy idea goodbye. Wilder would lose all faith in her. See her differently when he discovered the truth—that she wasn’t the put-together professional he thought her to be. “The first time or this time?”
Wilder stiffened.
“I’m so sorry, Wilder. I should have told you when the note came. And I definitely should have said something at the graveside.”
He drew back to look at her. “What happened at the cemetery?” His dark eyebrows furrowed.
She told him about the “gifts” and note. “I can resign. Leave.”
He framed her face and scrunched his nose. “You’re not going anywhere but back to CCM and your old apartment. Once the police are done, you can pack a few bags. Unless you have enough to get by for a while.”
Of course he’d want to help her. That was his job. What he did. Protected people. But how could he trust her professional judgment any longer? She could hardly look him in the eye. “Thank you,” she muttered.
The teakettle whistled.
“Have a seat. I’ll get this.” Wilder went to task making her a cup of chamomile tea with honey and brought it to the table. “I wish you would have told me, Cosette. I mean, this is what I do.”
“I know.” It was embarrassing.
“Was this Beau? It’s a cowardly move, and he’s a coward for sure.”
“Until the class reunion, I’d say no. But now I don’t know. It’s doubtful.”
A knock came. “Atlanta police.”
Wilder let them in and shook hands with one of them. Must be a friend. He had friends all over. He took charge like always and gave them the rundown. Showed them the bedroom. “Cosette,” he called. “Was anything taken from your drawers? Did you notice?”
She walked into the room, feeling intruded on by the actual intruder and now the police and Wilder combing through her private things—in her bedroom. “Nothing I can tell, except the tube of lipstick he used. He may have been about to write something when I interrupted him. I can’t say for sure.”
“Any idea who is doing this?” an officer asked.
She had a couple good ones.
TWO
Wilder had known something wasn’t right with Cosette. How could she have kept from him the fact she had a stalker? Knowing about Meghan, who was the whole reason Covenant Crisis Management existed... It was like he was back in time, and he didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to think about Meghan’s last night alive. Last moments. When he’d failed her miserably. His team member Beckett Marsh had been engaged to her, and in just a few hours would have been her husband, but then Parker Hill had taken her life. Beckett had blamed himself for not getting to Meghan in time, and Wilder had reassured him over the years that it wasn’t Beckett’s fault Meghan was dead.
It was Wilder’s fault. And he’d never told a soul.
He would not let Cosette’s stalker get the jump on him. Take her from him—from the team, not him. She wasn’t his. Couldn’t be.
“Do you know who might have done this, Miss LaCroix?” the officer asked.
“It’s pronounced Lah-Cwah. Not Lah-Kroy like the drink,” Wilder offered.
Cosette gave him the I-can-talk-for-myself look and he motioned her on with his hand. He hadn’t meant to butt in and answer for her, but he was a frenzy inside and needed to harness what little control he could of the situation.
Cosette cleared her throat, her cheeks turning almost the same shade as her cherry lips. “I, um, dated a man when I worked in Washington, DC—Jeffrey Levitts. He was head of the clinic I worked at. After about six months, he became jealous and possessive. I should have seen the signs earlier on, but...” She shrugged. “I tried to break things off and he became compulsive toward me. Gifts. Jewelry. Makeup—he knew my favorite line. He’d show up at my door at all times of the night.”
“Did you report any of this? Get a restraining order?”
Wilder withheld his snort. Meghan had filed one report after another and it got her nowhere. Probably didn’t get Cosette anywhere, either, but at least it would be on record if it went to court.
“I didn’t.”
What? “Why?” he demanded.
She wouldn’t look at him. That drove him nuts. The last thing he wanted was Cosette to feel too afraid to make eye contact or to feel intimidated or insecure because of him. “Look at me.”
She hesitantly met his gaze.
“Were you too scared to file a report?” Wilder asked.
“I’m a trained professional. How would that look on the record?” She turned back to the officer. “He broke into my place a few times. I came home to him on my couch twice. He left of his own volition. He’s a psychiatrist and far from stupid. Extremely cunning. Manipulative. He keyed my car. The list goes on. But this past weekend, I had an encounter with another man.”
“Another old boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. She explained what had happened at the reunion and her relationship with Beau Chauvert.
“Any other boyfriends that might be after you?” he asked, with a hint of judgment in his voice. Wilder put his arm around her. Seemed there was a whole hidden side of Cosette she’d tried to keep private. Nothing like dirty laundry being publicly aired. Wilder didn’t want his aired, either.
They finished taking her statement and said she could be back inside the apartment in twelve to twenty-four hours. Well, Wilder wasn’t letting her near this place alone. She was safer at CCM. With him.
“Do you have enough at your old apartment or do we need to swing by a convenience store?”
“I have enough.”
Wilder led her to the car and drove her to CCM. She didn’t say a single word and he didn’t force her to talk. She needed to process. He understood. Sometimes silence was better than “couch sessions.”
Inside, she rubbed her neck and glanced at the stairwell as if she was too exhausted to climb the winding case to the apartment she and Jody had shared for the past three years. He’d gotten used to having them both here—having Cosette here. More than he wanted to admit. More than he ought to. “You want coffee or something?”
“No,” she whispered. “I think I’ll just go on up.”
But she didn’t move.
“How about I escort you?”
She nodded.
He led her upstairs to the apartment door. She refused to meet his eyes. This wasn’t the confident, feisty woman he...cared for. He raised her chin until she had no choice but to peer straight at him. “No one—no one, Cosette—is getting through this door but me. And anyone you personally invite in. You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry, Wilder. I should have told you when I interviewed for the job why I wanted it—to relocate because of Jeffrey. I knew deep down I’d be safe with you, but I was afraid if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t trust my judgment. Wouldn’t think I could do the work.”
Her eyes turned watery and his heart thumped against his chest. She’d run to him for safety. A man she barely knew. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You have yet to prove you’re unable to do your job here, Cosette.”
“I know the excellence you demand from your team, Wilder.”
“And I know the excellence you provide. Now, no more talk about me sending you packing for making crummy choices in men.” He smirked, hoping to gain a smile from her.
> “I should have known better with Jeffrey. I’m a professional.”
“You can’t go back, Cosette. If we could...” His regrets plowed into him like a freight train.
Cosette simply nodded. Exhaustion and fear made her face seem smaller, paler. Frail.
“Has he messed with you prior to Thursday?” Wilder asked.
“After I first moved to CCM, he called repeatedly for a year.”
“Why didn’t you change your number?”
“I blocked him. My patients need me. Sometimes I still get calls from the ones I left behind in Washington. I don’t make my address known. I got a PO box once I moved here. But if he wanted to, I suppose he could have hired someone to find me. He never showed up, so...”
“I wish you’d have told me early on. I could have done something.” Yes, he’d failed before, but he wasn’t going to this time.
“What, Wilder? It was ‘he said, she said.’ He has clout in Washington. Knows people in high places.”
“So do I.”
“I know, but after hearing about Meghan in the interview, I didn’t want you to relive any of your past—go through that pain again.”
Wilder relived it every day. Pondered what he should have done differently. He’d had zero control. Lost, and almost lost, too many people he cared about.
The image of his barely breathing sister lying across the bed came to him. Her eyes, as green as his, fading quickly...
“Who did it? Was it Parker Hill?”
She hadn’t been able to speak; bruising had already begun around her neck. Couldn’t even nod or blink.
Her larynx had been crushed by violent hands.
It felt like forever, but it had been only seconds before he lost her and performed CPR. An ambulance wouldn’t have made it any faster, done any better.
Wilder couldn’t bring her back. Couldn’t make her breathe again.
She’d been under his protection since the day she was laid in his arms after she’d been born. Only three years after him.
“Wilder, this is your new baby sister. She’s delicate and it’s your job as the big brother to look after her. Keep her safe. You understand?” Dad had asked.
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