Tyler was frightened for her. He sensed danger swirling closer and closer but felt a helpless impotence to stop it. Not only was he worried about her, he was worried about himself and the crazy confusion of his thoughts where she was concerned.
He stifled a yawn and sat up straighter at the defense table. At the moment, the hair and fiber expert was on the stand explaining every hair and fiber he’d found in Abigail Monroe’s bedroom.
He cast Samantha a quick glance. She seemed completely oblivious to the turmoil she’d created in him. The testimony from the tall, thin hair-and-fiber expert captured her attention. She stopped looking at the man only long enough to make a quick note or two in the legal pad before her.
No big deal—that was what she’d insisted she felt about their lovemaking. No big deal. Tyler frowned and stared down at the table, once again overwhelmed with confusion.
For him it had been a very big deal. Making love to Samantha, discovering her a virgin, had shattered every preconceived notion he had about her.
Many nights he’d sat and listened to Jamison bemoan his eldest daughter’s suspected promiscuity. The fact that Samantha had given herself completely and fully for the first time to Tyler, filled his heart with a burden he’d never felt before.
Why had she made love with him? He looked at her, noticing that as usual, tendrils of hair had escaped the neat confinement at the nape of her neck. She seemed to show no emotional baggage whatsoever from their lovemaking.
They’d been stiff and formal with each other over their morning coffee, neither mentioning what had happened the night before.
Tyler had recognized her diatribe immediately after their lovemaking as a defense mechanism. He also knew people were usually defensive because they were guilty or hiding something. What would Samantha be like without that edge of defensiveness, without the bravado that drove her from one mishap to another? He doubted he would ever know.
For the first time, Tyler wondered about the childhood she had said was so horrid, about what kind of father Jamison really had been to his two daughters. Had Samantha been right when she’d accused Tyler of being blinded by Jamison’s charisma? Had Tyler seen only what he’d wanted to see in the man who had been his mentor?
He looked at Samantha once again, remembering how soft, how silky her skin had been beneath his touch, the way they’d fit together so perfectly as he’d slid deep inside her. A responding warmth spread through him even now, and he felt a stirring in his groin.
He jerked his gaze away from her, irritated that sheer memory alone could cause such a swift, potent reaction. Just what he needed—to have an obsessive desire for a woman with a penchant for trouble and a price on her head.
Tyler shifted his chair a little farther away from Samantha as the hair-and-fiber guy left the stand and the pathologist took his place. Maybe he could concentrate better on what was happening with the trial without the scent of Samantha fogging his brain, he thought.
The moment the first photograph of the victim was flashed on a screen, Tyler knew he was in trouble. He stared at the picture of the dead young woman and remembered another dead woman. His stomach churned and he felt a dizzying nausea sweep through him. Just like his nightmares. Haunting visions filled his head—visions he’d tried to forget since he was a fourteen-year-old kid.
Jerking his gaze from the picture, he drew in several deep breaths to steady himself. He closed his eyes and still the visions came. Fast and furious, they filled his mind.
He jumped as Samantha touched his arm, then leaned toward him. “You all right?” she whispered.
Her features swam before him as he fought against the soul sickness that gripped him. “Fine,” he answered faintly. “I’ll be fine.”
He could tell by her expression that he hadn’t convinced her.
When the judge called on her to cross-examine the pathologist, Samantha suggested they break for lunch. The judge agreed, and moments later Tyler and Samantha walked into a private conference room.
“Tell me,” she said the moment she’d closed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He paced the room, hoping he could walk off the haunting visions.
“Tyler, something got to you in there. Please, talk to me. Am I messing something up with the case?”
He turned to face her as she sank down at the conference table. Raking a hand through his hair, he wondered if telling somebody about that night would finally rid him of the nightmares, would finally exorcise the demons that haunted him. “Those pictures of Abigail... they reminded me of my mother.”
“Your mother?” Samantha’s voice was soft.
Turning toward the window, he focused his gaze outside, where treetops were visible from this third-story vantage point. As he watched, the trees seemed to melt and instead he was back on the streets in the St. Louis neighborhood where he’d grown up.
“I was fourteen and had been hanging out with my friends. My curfew came and went, but I didn’t want to go home. I knew my mother’s boyfriend was at the apartment, and I couldn’t stand him. He was the last in a long line of losers she’d dated.” His voice sounded cool, distant even to his own ears.
“All my friends started to head home, and so I did, too. When I rounded the corner I saw police cars in front of our apartment building.” He placed a hand on his stomach, where a thick dread churned. “I think I knew then that she was dead...that he’d killed her.”
“Oh, Tyler, how awful.”
He heard the sound of Samantha rising, felt her presence just behind him, but he didn’t turn to her. Caught up in the horror of his memory, he continued. “The officers tried to stop me from going in, but somehow I got past them and ran up the six flights to our floor. A cop stood just outside and I dodged around him and into her bedroom.” He drew a deep breath, feeling as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “She was on the bed. She looked like she was sleeping.”
He turned and looked at Samantha. “For a minute I thought it was all a mistake, that she was going to wake up and everything would be fine. Then I saw that the front of her nightgown was covered in blood and I knew nothing would ever be fine again.”
“Tyler, I’m so sorry.” She moved toward him and put her arms around his neck, warming him with her body heat as she hugged him tightly. He leaned his head against her shoulder, allowing her to comfort him as he had comforted her when she’d cried about her father.
“You should have told me about this sooner,” she said as her hand stoked his hair. “We could have seen to it that you weren’t in court during the pathologist’s testimony.”
He moved out of her arms, embarrassed by his show of weakness. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine now. The picture of Abigail just shocked me, rocked me back in time.”
Samantha once again sat down at the table. “You want to order in some lunch?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Me neither.”
He was aware of her gaze on him as he moved back to the window and once again looked outside. He’d hoped by telling Samantha about his mother, he would somehow free himself.
But the memories kept coming—the flashing police lights, the removal of her body from the apartment, the crying, pathetic apologies of her murderer as he stood handcuffed nearby. And with that memory came a crippling anger. He tried to push it away, knowing the destructiveness of such an emotion.
“This is why you don’t do murder cases, isn’t it?” Samantha’s voice pulled him back from the brink of a dark pit.
He turned to look at her once again and nodded. “I never believed I could be objective enough to defend a murderer. I was always afraid my own emotions would get in the way of a good defense.”
“What happened to your mother’s killer?”
Exhausted from the emotional turmoil the conversation had wrought, Tyler sank into the chair across from her. “His name was Doug Woods. He plea-bargained. Got seven years.” His bitt
erness bled into the tone of his voice.
“Why a defense lawyer? I would have thought with this kind of experience you would have become a prosecutor,” she observed.
He smiled for the first time since entering the conference room. “For a while, my sole purpose in living was to get big enough, strong enough to kill Doug Woods when he got out of prison. Then I met your father. After a succession of foster homes, I was so hungry for adult attention, if your father had been a crook, I would have become a cat burglar just to please him.”
She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “I’m glad my father found you.”
Tyler stared at her, wondering how it had happened, when it had happened. How in the hell had he managed to do something so stupid, so horrible, as to fall in love with Samantha Dark?
It was a short day in court. After a brief and uneventful afternoon, Samantha and Tyler left the courthouse. Outside in the cold autumn wind, Samantha stopped on the sidewalk. “I’m not going back to the office. I’m spending the rest of the afternoon in the library,” she said to him.
He frowned his disapproval. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, especially in light of Bones’s phone call last night.” His frown deepened. “And I still think we need to tell the police.”
“What are the police going to do? Right now it’s nothing but a threat from an unknown source.” She shook her head. They’d argued about getting the police involved last night before going to their separate rooms. She didn’t want to have the same argument now. “Tyler, I can’t spend every moment of every day in your company for safety’s sake. The library is a public place. It’s the middle of the afternoon. I’ll be fine.”
“How will you get home?”
“I’ll take a cab.” She placed a hand on his arm. She couldn’t tell him she needed some time, some distance away from him. In the past two days her emotions had been on a roller-coaster ride and she needed some space to sort things out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” she added.
“I’ll drive you to the library,” he replied. She nodded and together they walked toward the car. She got into the passenger seat, then looked at him as he slid in behind the wheel.
He looked exhausted. The effects of the noon break that had pulled the horrible memories from him still showed in his features. She had a feeling he would use the time alone to pull himself back together, to shove those memories into a dark recess of his mind where they wouldn’t have the power to haunt him.
It took them only moments to reach the Wilford Public Library, a large old two-story brick building. Tyler pulled up to the curb and Samantha started to get out of the car. Tyler stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Samantha, please be careful,” he said, his dark eyes radiating worry. “Come right home after you finish here.”
“I will. You can count on me to be home for dinner.” She got out of the car and waited for him to pull away from the curb, then realized he wasn’t going anywhere until he saw her safely inside the library doors.
With a parting wave, she ran up the stairs and entered the building. History had it that the Wilford Public Library was the third building constructed in what would eventually become the town of Wilford. Built by the wealthy John Wilford, the founding father, who had wanted his daughter to have all the amenities of city living, the library was a testimony to John Wilford’s love of the written word.
Samantha walked past the librarian’s counter, where books were checked out and fines were paid. She walked through the rows and rows of books, heading for the stairway that would take her to the second floor.
Upstairs was a lounge of sorts. Tables and chairs were arranged in front of a magazine rack that held a variety of newspapers and magazines. She was alone and had her pick of the tables. She chose one in the corner, where she could work and think undisturbed.
She opened her briefcase and placed a thick manila folder of papers and reports in front of her, but she knew none of the papers contained information on what most played on her mind. Tyler.
Leaning back in the chair, she closed her eyes, remembering how he’d kissed her, how he’d touched her, how he’d loved her the night before. It had been like no experience in her life. It had been beyond her wildest imagination.
Even now, with the odor of musty books assailing her, she could still smell the scent of his clean, masculine skin. And she could still hear his deep moans, his satisfied sighs as he’d loved her.
No, not loved her. She opened her eyes and stared at the paperwork in front of her. Had sex with her. It would be a mistake to confuse the two, a mistake she would never make, for it would only lead to heartbreak.
He’d already touched her heart with the story of his mother’s murder. As he’d spoken of that night, her heart had ached for the young boy he’d been. She’d wanted to take his pain from him, swallow it up so he would never have to feel it again. That had been unusual for Samantha—to empathize with another’s pain. She’d spent too many years wallowing in her own.
Samantha tried to think what it would be like to grow up with no parents, how it would be to spend one’s formative years in a foster home. Although she knew there were many good, loving foster parents in the world, she also knew there were some who weren’t so loving or so good. She had a feeling Tyler’s foster-care experience hadn’t been a happy one.
Was a bad parent better than no parent at all? Even though Samantha had hated her father, had thought him cold and distant, she’d always known that if she got into trouble he would bail her out. She had always felt his presence in her life.
She shook her head, not wanting to explore further thoughts of her father or of Tyler. Her father was dead, and while Tyler was very much alive and she wouldn’t mind making love with him again, he was a dead end when it came to anything more than a mutual physical attraction.
Spreading out her paperwork before her, Samantha forced. herself to focus on Dominic’s case.
She worked for several hours, making notes in margins, considering various scenarios. Other people came and went—men reading magazines, kids doing homework—but Samantha hardly gave them a glance. Rather she stared at crime-scene photos, re-evaluated forensic evidence and tried to find something, anything that would point a finger of suspicion at somebody other than Dominic.
After interviewing Morgan Monroe, her suspicions about him hiring Abigail’s killer had waned. Unless the man was the best actor in the world, he truly appeared destroyed by the death of his young bride.
At the moment Samantha’s money was riding on Kyle. Although she didn’t think the young man had done the job personally, she had a feeling he had something to do with the crime. Unfortunately, she needed a solid link to present to the jury. Her idle speculation wouldn’t be allowed or believed.
As her stomach rumbled with hunger, she looked at her watch. Surprised to discover it was almost six o’clock, she packed up her briefcase and headed back down the stairs.
She was on her way to the pay phone to call a cab when she spied her sister checking out several books. She walked up behind her. “You run into the strangest people at the library,” she said.
Melissa whirled around, a smile lifting her features and warming Samantha’s heart. “Ah, if it isn’t the sexy Samantha Dark, defender of justice.” Melissa’s blue eyes danced and Samantha noticed she looked relaxed—happier than when the two sisters had shared lunch.
“Why aren’t you at the courthouse?” Melissa asked as she took the books she’d checked out from the librarian.
“Early court day. I’ve been upstairs working for the last couple of hours.”
Melissa tilted her head, for a moment looking like their mother as Samantha remembered her. “Why here? Why not at the firm?”
Samantha shrugged and the two walked away from the counter. “I thought maybe a change of scenery would help me think.”
“I was just about to head down the street to that little Mexican restaurant. Want to have dinner with
me?”
Samantha hesitated, thinking of Tyler, who would be waiting for her at home. Immediate irritation swept through her. She wasn’t married to Tyler. She wasn’t even dating him. Just because they’d slept together once didn’t mean she owed him anything. “I’d love to,” she agreed. Besides, she still had the hope that she and Melissa would find a closeness again and they certainly couldn’t do that by never seeing each other.
“Great!” Melissa flashed her a warm smile and Samantha knew she’d made the right choice.
Together they walked out into the fading light of day. “So, how’s the trial going?” Melissa asked as they headed toward La Casa Cantina.
“Too early to tell. The trial just began yesterday. I probably won’t begin the defense case for another week.”
“Are you ready?”
“No.” Samantha grinned at her sister. “But I’m doing all I can to get ready. Wylie Brooks is working for me, trying to dig up anything I can use to defend Dominic,”
Melissa looked at her in surprise. “I thought Wylie had retired.”
“Tyler talked him into coming out of retirement to help me.”
Their conversation ceased as they entered the dark confines of the restaurant. “How’s the divorce coming?” Samantha asked, once they’d been seated and had placed their orders.
“It’s not. I stopped the process.”
Samantha looked at her sister in surprise. “Why?”
Melissa smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Bill is trying so hard to make things work out between us. We’ve been talking...really talking about our problems. I think it’s going to be fine. And...I’m going to have a baby. I just found out this morning.”
“Oh, Melissa, that’s wonderful.” Samantha reached across the table and took her sister’s hand. “I’m so happy for you.”
Melissa laughed and squeezed Samantha’s hand. “Me, too.” She rubbed her stomach and sighed. “I still don’t quite believe it’s true, but the doctor assured me that in seven months I’ll have a baby.”
“Have you told Bill yet?”
Reluctant Wife Page 12
