Shay was left there, holding the phone and listening to dead air.
Frowning, she lowered it, staring at the handset. “If.” Narrowing her eyes, she tossed the phone onto the couch and started to pace. “If the page is a fraud.”
“What do you mean … if?”
Turning around, Shay stared at Elliot and said softly, “That’s how she said it. If that page is a fraud. I don’t get it. Why would she phrase it that way? I’d know if it was my page, right? So if I’m telling her it’s not …”
That tension continued to churn in her gut and she groaned, dropping to the window seat.
“I take it that didn’t go exactly as planned.” He settled down next to her.
“Elliot, my life hasn’t gone exactly as planned in so many months … hell, longer.” Then she made a face and glanced at him. “Well, to be honest, my life was never really planned anyway, but every once in a while, would it really be so bad not to have a huge wrench thrown into things when I’m finally coasting by? Is that too much to ask?”
“You managed to go awhile with me without a wrench,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“True.” She pursed her lips, studying the flames of the fire as they danced. “Then I just turned myself into a wrench, remember.”
Huffing out a soft breath, she eased away from him and swiped her hands down her pants. She’d tugged them on in the middle of the phone call—she just couldn’t have that conversation naked. Too bad it hadn’t helped. She swallowed as she tried to figure out where to go from here, tried to pretend she wasn’t as nervous as she felt. Nobody needed to know she was scared, after all. She’d lived with fear all of her life, and other than Virna … and Elliot, most people hadn’t ever realized it. No reason for that to change now.
“You didn’t turn yourself into a wrench,” Elliot said from behind her.
“No. I just made it all but impossible for you to be with me.” If I kept you away, you couldn’t hurt me. If you couldn’t hurt me, I was safer.
But she’d also been lonelier. A fact she could admit, now.
He moved to stand in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. “You let me close enough last night. Earlier.”
Heat buzzed along her skin as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
“You don’t plan on pulling back, do you?”
The raw vulnerability she heard in his voice hit her square in the gut. Easing her head back, she stared into his eyes. “No,” she murmured. She touched her fingertips to his lips and shook her head. “I plan on not pulling back. And that’s one plan I don’t mind making.”
“Good.”
Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder and just let herself relax. Take in his warmth, his strength … and him. He was there. He knew her secrets, knew her scars … most of them, anyway. Grimacing, she pushed that thought out of her head. She had enough to deal with, just trying to adjust to what had happened with them, what was happening … and the hell that was going on in her business life.
Speaking of which … she had to get back to that hell, and she couldn’t do it with him here. She’d never be able to concentrate, never be able to think. “I need to get to work,” she said softly. “I haven’t written more than a few pages since the accident. And I have to try to get hold of my agent again. She’s not returning my emails, and that’s not like her.”
She gave him a glancing kiss on the cheek and then made her way to her desk, acutely aware of his intense, watchful stare. “That sounds a lot like ‘you’re dismissed,’ ” he mused.
“It’s not a dismissal.” Shay settled her weight into the chair, grimacing a little as muscles she wasn’t used to using twinged in protest. Then she spun around and made herself look at him. It would be a lot easier to stare at the monitor, but if she’d told him she wasn’t going to run, she wouldn’t run, not even in a situation like this—and avoiding his gaze while she talked was a form of hiding. “I’m not trying to run away or hide or anything,” she said, reaching for a pen and turning it over and over in her hands. “But my head is still spinning. Things are insane up here.”
Closing her eyes, she thought of the episode from last night … Michelline …
Even now, goose bumps broke out over her skin and she could almost feel the weight of something enormous pressing against that impenetrable wall of her memories. There were things waiting back there. Just waiting for her to look at them. And she had to look. Had to keep pressing against that wall until it crumbled.
Do you remember what happened …?
“There’s too much going on. It’s not just us,” she said, staring into his eyes. “Although that’s big enough for me. And it’s a good thing, but it’s still weird. There’s this mess going on with my career, and I’ve got to get it sorted out. My writing … Elliot, it’s my lifeline. I have to find this person and deal with it.”
“I understand.”
Those words, so simply stated, had her throat knotting up. “Thank you.”
He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “Doesn’t mean I like leaving.” He scowled a little, bumping one of the boxes of books with his foot. “What about the woman from earlier … Darcy?”
“My assistant.” Shay sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the chair. “Damn it. She’s involved in this somehow. I just need to figure out how.”
“Somehow?” He stared at her. “She’s the one who called you Michelline. She triggered … whatever happened last night. That memory thing. She’s got to know something.”
She triggered it …
Staring at him, Shay felt as though the earth had opened up and swallowed her whole.
Shit.
Oh. Fucking. Shit.
She hadn’t made that connection—
Why …? Immediately her brain popped up with a dozen reasons why—the shock of the nightmare, stress, lack of sleep … sex with Elliot. Any of the above, all of the above. But the connection was there, and damn it, she had to look at it.
Son of a bitch. She’d already accepted the fact that Darcy was the one jacking around with her life. But how did Darcy know about her?
“Shay?”
The overly bright smile she gave him was enough to make his heart hurt.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, and he knew, as sure as he knew his own name, that she was lying through her teeth. “Is it okay if I call you later? Maybe I can come into town, we can go out to eat or something …?”
“Sure.” He waited a moment.
All she did was nod. “Okay. Great.”
A moment later, she spun around in her seat and he watched as she started to peck away at the keys of her computer furiously, shoulders hunched in a way that made him understand why her neck was always so damn tight.
Blowing out a soft breath, he closed the distance between them. She stiffened. But he’d be damned if he let her put them back where they’d been yesterday. Gliding a hand down her shoulder, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “If you don’t call me, I’ll probably call you. See you soon?”
She surprised him by turning her head around to meet his. “Hmmm, definitely.”
“Good.” Slanting his mouth over hers, he stole a quick kiss. “Think of me, Shay.”
“How can I not?”
Before he could try and push for more, he made himself leave. She needed some room. Needed to settle, to think. He could understand that, mostly. But damned if he had to like it.
Besides, once he was out of here, he was going to start trying to see what he could find out about this so-called Shane. Not Shay, but the other one.
He knew more than a few of his friends had been caught off guard by her accusations and he remembered some of the names from her “friend” list. Lorna, smart woman that she was, had made screencaps of the fake Shane’s account.
He was going to start asking questions. After all, she was screwing with his life, too. S
hay had been more than clear about that. He might as well start working on getting some of those answers.
The sound of Elliot leaving had to be one of the loneliest sounds she’d ever heard. But she had to get him out of there; she had to think, and she didn’t think she was going to be in a good place when she was done. If he was there, she was going to let herself weaken, maybe let herself lean on him.
Maybe even let herself not do what she knew she had to do. Now wasn’t the time to be weak.
She triggered it.
That was what Elliot said—Darcy had triggered whatever episode Shay had had last night. That memory blip. Shay didn’t particularly want to remember those years; all the dragons, all the nightmares she dealt with, stemmed from those years. But maybe if she faced them, dealt with them, she could banish them forever and move on.
After all, how much worse could those years be compared to what had been done to her fifteen years ago?
Did you really think I wouldn’t find you … little cunt …
“Not now,” she muttered, fisting a hand and pressing it to her forehead.
But what had Darcy said?
Shay couldn’t remember much more than a few minutes into the conversation, and then the name. Everything else was a hazy fog of fear and adrenaline.
Can you tell us what happened, Michelline?
“No. That’s not right.” Shaking her head, she rose from the chair and made her way to the window. Past and present tried to come together on her, but that wasn’t it. That was Virna’s voice.
Memories from the night she’d been rescued from hell.
Leaning against the solid wood casement of the window, she let it support her body as she stared outside, watching Elliot deal with the snow that had fallen, watching as he knocked it off the car, then as he went and did the same to her truck. The sight of it brought a smile to her face. Nobody ever did that for her. It was … nice. Yeah. It was nice, she thought, having somebody there to take care of her. Nice having somebody trying to take care of her …
“That’s it,” she whispered, stunned.
Elliot was circling around his car now, and she straightened, staring at him but hardly seeing him as that voice echoed in her mind.
Taking care of her …
She did such a wonderful fucking job taking care of you … didn’t she … Michelline …?
Darcy’s voice had been angry. Hurtful. Hateful. And certain—
Swaying with the knowledge that flooded her head, she lifted her hand and braced it on the window, her gaze seeking out Elliot’s face. Just one more look. One look, and she could think her way through this.
He slanted his gaze in her direction and mouthed, Bye.
Swallowing, she nodded.
As he drove away, she turned back to the computer.
Before she went and lost her mind, before she went and did anything else, she needed to know—who was Michelline?
There was only one person who might know some of those answers. At least, one person who was alive. But the question was … would Angie tell her?
Pacing the floor, holding the phone, Shay called Angie.
When she wasn’t there, she left a message.
Then, because she couldn’t take the chance that she’d chicken out, she sent her sister an email.
Angie …
I know this isn’t easy, but I have some questions about my life before I came to live with you all. Mom never told me much. Did she ever talk to you about it? Do you know what my name was?
Leaning back, Shay stared at the screen and went to hit send. Then she stopped herself. Before she could change her mind, she added:
Was my name Michelline? I’m not talking about the name change after Mom. From before. When I was little.
Shay didn’t mention their mother’s death. That wasn’t needed. Angie would know. Holding her breath, she hit send. Then she logged into her online diary, desperate to do something, anything that would get that name out of her mind. Anything that would clear her mind, and maybe silence the screams that were trying to creep in. The screams, and those whispers that usually only crept in during the dark night hours.
Can you tell us what happened, Michelline?
While the voices and memories and nightmares raged in her head, she started to write.
I’ve had a couple of different names … more than most people, I know. But I think this was my real name—the one I was given when I was born. V changed it. I was too little to understand, and it didn’t occur to me to care. I was loved, cared for, and she had made sure I had plenty to eat … what did it matter if she wanted to call me a different name?
But there shouldn’t be anybody who really knows that name.
Anybody who remembers it, really.
I don’t. Or I didn’t. Because I’d blocked it out.
Only a few people would know it.
Somebody used it earlier.
Called me by that name.
How would she know it?
How would anybody know … unless they knew me then?
Brooding, Shay skimmed the post and then published it to her diary. It didn’t help things solidify in her mind any. It didn’t seem possible, or even likely, that Darcy knew her from back then.
How could she?
But if she didn’t, how would she know that name?
She couldn’t think of any answers, though, and until Angie got back to her, it was just speculation anyway. Maybe that hadn’t even been her name. Sighing, she skimmed through her email. It was all but exploding now that she didn’t have Darcy accessing it anymore to clear out the business issues and the spam. Nothing from Anna, and nothing from Julie.
But hallelujah! There was an email from Facebook. Shay could have wept. There was one from Twitter, too. And yes—both pages were down.
“Thank God,” she muttered. “Finally.”
One thing off her list. Now … for another.
If Anna wasn’t emailing, then it was time to call the office.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
“LOOK AT YOU …”
Elliot came to a stop, standing in the doorway, not caring about the 12-degree weather at his back. Lifting his hand, he pointed at his sister. “Don’t say a damn thing,” he warned. That cat-ate-the-canary grin on her face boded bad things, and he wasn’t having this conversation in public. Preferably ever.
“Hey, is that any way to speak to somebody who went out of her way to bring you a present?” Lorna asked, smiling angelically. Leaning forward, she braced an elbow on the counter and waggled her eyebrows at him. “So … did you need it?”
“I’m a grown man, damn it. I can take care of myself, you know.”
“So you did need it.” Lorna’s grin widened. “If you didn’t, you would have just laughed at me.”
Elliot rolled his eyes and came inside, letting the door shut behind him. After he hung up his parka, he glanced around the store. The store was empty. Normally, he hated that, but just then, he was just fine with it, because he was not in the mood to see anybody, except Shay. “You okay if I go take a shower, grab a bite?”
If he could eke out a few more minutes, he might even send out a few emails, check with those friends of his. All he wanted to do was see if this Darcy chick or Shane or whoever in the fuck she was had contact with anybody besides him. It wouldn’t take long.
Of course, judging by the look in his sister’s eyes, she wasn’t going to give him time to breathe, much less shower and send out emails.
“She such a party animal you couldn’t eat all night?” Lorna grinned at him, a sly look in her eyes.
Under any other circumstances, it would have just made him shake his head.
But these weren’t normal circumstances. And all of a sudden, it dropped down on him. The weight he’d been trying to ignore, the rage he’d been fighting to hold back.
All of it hit him and it was now crushing him.
Closing his eyes, he said, “Lorna … don’t. Okay?”
She must have seen something in his eyes, heard it in his voice. “Oh, shit, Elliot, don’t tell me you two fought already.”
“No.” He gave her a tired smile. “No, it’s not that. I think …”
Memories of the scars flashed through his mind, and abruptly, the fury he’d been holding in check exploded. “Fuck.” He slammed his fist down on the counter, but it didn’t do a damn thing to expel the rage he had trapped inside him.
“Whoa …” Lorna moved around the counter and rushed to the front door. She locked it and flipped the Be Back Soon sign over, then came to him. With the bravery only siblings can possess, she grabbed his arm and started to pull on him.
“Leave me alone now, Lorna—you want to leave me alone.” Leave me alone so I can fall apart. Explode. Something—
“No, I want to kick your ass the way I did when we were kids, but you had to go and grow a foot and a half taller and join the military,” she snapped. “But I can kick you in the balls and I remember most of the dirty tricks Paul taught me, so I can still hurt you.”
“Lorna …”
But he was too tired to fight her. Fighting his fury was draining. It didn’t help that every time he closed his eyes, he saw those scars. Those awful scars. How could somebody do that—
Stop it, he told himself. Not now. He had to get a grip on this fury because if he didn’t, he was going to find himself on a flight to Phoenix, where he’d be hunting that son of a bitch down and killing him.
Slow.
And then he’d end up with his ass in jail and he wouldn’t be able to be with Shay.
Sometimes, subtlety wasn’t his strong point.
So because Shay mattered, he had to get this fury under wraps. Had to.
He let Lorna take him to the office and he threw himself down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that burned while the acid of his rage ate a hole inside him.
“What’s wrong, El?” Lorna asked softly.
“I can’t talk about it.” He shook his head. Those were Shay’s secrets, and he’d be damned if he broke that confidence.
Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense Page 17