by Lori Foster
"Whatever. I wasn't sure how you'd really feel about that. You don't have to be nice, you know. If I'd make anyone uncomfortable—given my background and all—then I wouldn't want to be there." She didn't want to do anything to cause him trouble or sully his good reputation.
Bruce's dark eyes narrowed. He tried to hide his annoyance while tugging playfully on the end of her braid. "On the contrary. I'd enjoy seeing you."
Her heart seemed to leap right from her chest. But was he just being nice? He said he'd worked with hookers. Was he only trying to help her get her life together?
Her skeptical look was met with a frown. Fair hair fell over his brow as he shook his head. "So doubting. I don't lie, Cyn—remember that, okay?"
"Sure." She'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear, just to keep him around a bit longer.
He looked toward the heavens, as if unconvinced. 'You'll enjoying working with Shay. And it'll give you a chance to get to know some of the other town folks better." He pulled out his cell phone and punched in Shay's number. "Talk to her now. I know Shay—she'll be thrilled to hear from you."
With a roll of her eyes, Cyn accepted the phone just as Shay answered the call. And as Bruce had predicted, she seemed genuinely happy to hear from her. Without Cyn having to mention her lack of a car, Shay volunteered to pick her up in the morning after she'd taken care of the horses.
In all of five seconds, Shay had a full day plan-ned, and Cyn, caught up in the whirlwind of Shay's excitement, agreed to everything.
Satisfied, Bruce accepted his phone back and tucked it away after Cyn ended the call. "Shay's a charmer."
"She's a bulldozer," Cyn corrected, but her grin told Bruce that she didn't mind. Truth was, she liked Shay. She liked Bryan, too. And even Julie had seemed nice enough.
She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but she felt intimidated by people who weren't from her world—good, normal people. But Bruce's friends made it easier than she'd expected.
Bruce glanced back at the barn where her apartment had been built. From the driveway, you could barely see it. It was a good stretch of the legs from one structure to the next. "Promise me you'll take it easy and let your ankle rest."
She crossed her heart Once he left, she'd have, nothing to do but rest. "Sure thing."
"And keep your doors locked at night. That loft doesn't look all that secure to me."
"Mary loves her horses. Weren't you listening when she said there's an alarm on the barn? If anyone breaks in, she'd know it."
"Good." He shifted, tossed the keys in his hand, then gave a nod. "I'd better go."
"See you tomorrow?" The second the words left her mouth, Cyn felt lame, like Polly Puritan setting a damn date.
She was a whore, no longer practicing but in the scheme of things, she wasn't sure that mattered for much.
Bruce was a preacher, very much the wholesome, goody-two-shoes type. They might as well have been from different planets.
She had no business indulging an infatuation. Damn it, she knew better.
But when Bruce leaned forward and touched his mouth to her cheek in a butterfly, somewhat brotherly caress, her knees wanted to buckle.
She would never get used to his kisses—but she wouldn't mind trying.
"See you tomorrow," he murmured low, then got in his car and seconds later drove away.
A soft swell of contentment settled around Cyn as she watched his car disappear from sight. Already she missed him. But thanks to Shay, she'd see him tomorrow and maybe even the day after that.
In school, shame had forced her to shy away from everyone. Friendships left you vulnerable, and she couldn't risk anyone knowing about her secrets. She'd had no friends, so she'd had no boyfriends. On the street, she'd given men her body, but never her thoughts, most definitely never her heart.
Bruce had touched her. Physically, sure, but it was so much more than that. So much more than she'd ever had, or ever expected to want.
But now, the wanting threatened to eat her up.
The sun was bright in her eyes, the breeze brisk but so damn fresh it took her breath away. She turned and headed back to the loft, distracted, distraught ... and felling in love for the very first time in her life.
She'd achieved so much in such a short time.
She was in Visitation, she had a job, and she had a place to stay. She should have been happy.
If she could rule out her past, somehow erase it from her memory, everything would be almost... perfect.
The idea was too scary to let her be happy.
Arlene Potter stared into her coffee cup and concentrated on not moving. A late night and too much whisky had left her brain throbbing and her stomach cramping. She was half-asleep, about to give up on going in to work, when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder.
Twisting so fast and hard that she sprawled on the floor, she screeched out her surprise. She'd slept in her clothes after coming in during the wee hours of the morning, but they were soured with alcohol and sweat so she'd pulled them off when she'd awakened. Now she wore only a ratty housecoat that parted up to her knees.
Heart in her throat, her head splitting, she slowly brought her fearful gaze up to the man's face standing before her.
Terror tightened like a fist around her throat What was he doing in her house? Dear God, she'd thought he was—
"Stupid woman, you wrote me off, didn't you?" His grin wasn't friendly, nor was the narrowing of his small, mean eyes. "You can't be rid of me that easily."
Arlene put her hand to her throat. It felt like her heart had lodged there. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Abruptly he crouched down in front of her and she screeched again, scrambling back in a panic until he caught her ankle and jerked her forward so forcefully that her head fell back and clunked on the floor. He wore black leather gloves, and they looked obscene against her pale skin.
"Arlene," he growled in the way of a reprimand, "where is your lovely daughter?"
Cyn? He wanted Cyn? Oh, thank God. Frantic, gasping, she shook her head and gave the only reply she could. "I don't know."
His fingers tightened on the bones in her ankle. "Don't lie to me, Arlene."
Pain traveled up her shin, and she gasped. "I'm not. She's gone."
His eyes were bright and hot as the fires of hell. "Gone where?"
Arlene clutched at her leg, her expression plead-ing. "I don't know," she swore in a shrill voice. "Both of you disappeared at the same time. I'd tell you if I knew where to find her, but I haven't seen her in years."
"She's never come back here?"
"No." She shook her head hard. "I haven't heard from her, not once."
His expression thoughtful, he sat back and Arlene scurried into the corner against the grimy cabinets. Knowing what he was capable of, knowing he could do almost anything, brought whimpers of fear from deep inside her.
After a moment, he stood, towering over her, deliberately dominating. She'd always found him cruelly handsome, intimidating and powerful. He crossed his arms and again, he fashioned that evil smile that made Arlene's skin crawl and her heart shudder, even while heightening her awareness of him as a man.
"Pity, because I only know one way to find her."
Her eyes widened in confusion. "But... why do you want Cyn so bad?"
He laughed, the sound raw and ugly. "If you were a man, instead of a pathetic bitch, you'd already know the answer to that."
A calculating gleam entered her eyes and she pushed herself upright "I'm a woman."
His gaze moved over her, from the gaping top of her robe that showed a lot of her naked breasts, down to her knees and bare, dirty feet. He wanted her, she was sure of it. He'd always wanted her, regardless of his fascination with Cyn.
Arlene inched closer. "If it's satisfaction you want..." She let the offer dangle out there, hoping for enticement. She'd been too long without a man. Much too long. Why should her daughter have all the attention?
His eyes narrowed and he sucked
something from one of his teeth as if in indecision. Then he shrugged. "Come here."
Triumphant, Arlene swayed toward him—and he grabbed her, jerking her around so her back was to his chest. Excitement had her melting, lava-hot and ready...
In one smooth movement, he gripped the worn cloth belt to her robe and slid it free. Material parted, exposing her, exciting her more.
She moaned in encouragement.
"If you're dead," he whispered against her temple with cheerful menace, "Cyn will have to be notified, right? Someone will find her. She'll come here, and then I'll have her."
Fuzzy with a hangover and arousal, it took a moment for the awful words to register. Arlene's eyes flared open, but the belt was already wrapped around her throat.
Laughing at her struggles, he squeezed, and cut off her air supply.
Arlene clawed at the back of his hands, gagging, gasping, trying to beg—and she heard his laughter roughen with excitement. Her vision, sound, emotion, all faded away, more and more distant, until she slumped, dead in his arms.
He let her drop to the floor in an inelegant sprawl. Adrenaline flowed through his veins and for a time, he relished the rush, the sense of majestic power. It was almost orgasmic—-just the way litde Cyn had made him feel.
After several deep breaths, he drew Cyn's journal from inside his jacket. She'd made a mistake in leaving it behind, because the police hadn't found it. She'd have no allies.
He dumped two kitchen drawers before locating a pen and paper. Copying the delicate script from Cyn's journal, he wrote a note. It was heart-wrenching, a cry for help from a young girl, and he snickered as he penned it.
Oh yeah, the cops would find her for him. Soon, he'd have her again.
And then, finally, they could pick up where they'd left off.
Scanned by Coral
Chapter Six
Jamie swung the ax hard, felt it sink deep into the wood, like a hot knife in butter. The wood split into sizeable chunks. He always enjoyed physical labor, and despite being labeled a hermit, he was determined to stay in prime shape. How long his anonymity would last, he didn't know, but never again would he ever be caught unawares.
He jerked the ax free of the chopping block, raised it over his head—and stopped cold. Emotions, warnings, images, rippled through him, making his vision compress and his senses grind to acute sharpness.
The warnings settled around him with all the comfort of a horsehair blanket. They netded him, but he accepted them. They were part of him. The uglier part.
Shit. It was time. Maybe past time.
He had to make a trip into town. He couldn't put it off any longer. He lowered the ax and rested both hands against the handle. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Bruce, trying to decipher the best time to make his appearance.
Midweek, he decided, would work out. Nothing would happen for a few more days at least, and that'd be the best time to catch Bruce away from town.
The citizens of Visitation weren't his friends— they couldn't be, but they were friendly acquaintances. For that reason, he preferred to speak with Bruce on the road rather than go into town where he always felt exposed and out of place—where they wanted to engage him in idle chitchat.
Bruce would take a drive, and Jamie would warn him then. Unlike the others, Jamie had a feeling that Bruce would be more receptive to what he knew. If for no other reason than out of concern for Cyn.
Jamie paused and stared up at the towering trees. There was no one around, and Bruce's situation was definitely amusing, but even so, Jamie couldn't quite bring himself to smile. He rarely did smile— except around Joe or Bryan. Those two could supply endless forms of entertainment.
He shook his head.
Cyn had been in town only two weeks, but already Bruce was falling for her. Hard. And in the ways of all men, Bruce looked for opportunities to be alone with her. He was smitten, and fighting it the best he could. Jamie could have told him it was useless, that their union was unavoidable, but for now at least, he'd keep that information to himself.
Using a forearm, Jamie pushed sweat out of his eyes and smoothed away a hank of hair that had escaped his rubber band. His hair had gotten so long that a ponytail was customary with his jeans and tees. If the folks from the institute saw him now, they wouldn't recognize him—and that was the point.
He raised the ax, ready to get back to work. He had enough wood to last him through three winters, but he liked chopping the dead fall, being outside, feeling his muscles strain and letting his mind rest.
The only problem was that, until Cyn was safe, there wouldn't be much rest. And she wouldn't be safe... until Bruce made her so. He wanted to give her time, but time was something she didn't have. Bruce would have to step up to the plate. Now.
That was how it had to be, whether Bruce accepted it yet or not.
* * *
Bryan nudged his brother hard. "You're staring again."
Bruce pulled his gaze from where Cyn wielded the broom with more energy than was needed. Each sweep jostled her breasts and caused her rear to swing. The sun glinted down on her dark hair and put color in her cheeks. "What's that?"
Laughing, Bryan said, You're so obvious."
"About what?" But he asked it in distraction because once again, Cyn had caught his notice. She bent to sweep the pile into a dustpan, and Bruce absorbed the sight of her heart-shaped rear. Such an invitation.. .
He heard Bryan chuckling and turned to him with disgust. "This is harder than I ever imagined."
"So do something about it." Bryan clapped him on the back. "I know women, and I'm pretty damn sure she's willing. Hell, she looks at you like you're God."
Bruce closed his eyes on a groan of pain. "I can't."
"Why the hell not? You're single, she's single,.."
"She used to be a prostitute."
That blunt disclosure wrought a shocked silence. 'The hell you say." Bryan leaned past Bruce to look at her. "She's so damn young—"
"Twenty-two. And you know that doesn't have a thing to do with it." Bruce stalked into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea. Watching Cyn heated him more than-the afternoon sun and he just couldn't torture himself any longer. "She's here to start a new life."
Bryan leaned against the counter. He accepted the icy glass Bruce handed to him, but didn't take his gaze from his brother. "It bothers you?"
"Of course it bothers me." He rounded on his brother in frustrated fury. "Her life has been hellish up until now. She needs friends and acceptance and. . ."
"And?"
Bruce gritted his teeth. "And I want her. I don't want to give her time. Being with her is... more difficult than I ever imagined." He swallowed hard. "She's still so insecure, though she does her best to hide it."
"Shay noticed. She thought it was because she was young and new to the area."
Bruce downed half his drink, hoping it would cool his body and his temper. "She thinks men look at her and miraculously know. She knew some crazed minister who told her that her soul was black and others could see it."
"Bastard."
Bruce laughed. "You have no idea. If I could get my hands on him ..." He let the ugly threat trail off. In the normal course of things, he wasn't a violent man. But like most male animals, he'd fight to the death to defend his mate, and with each day that passed, he became more and more certain that Cyn was the one woman he wanted.
But Cyn had told him no more about her past or her demons or the men who'd hurt her. It made him crazy with frustration. He wanted her to trust him completely, to let him help heal her heart. Logically, he knew and accepted that she needed more time.
In his heart, he couldn't bear waiting.
Bryan's voice was low when he asked with idle interest, "Want me to check her out?"
"No." Then he added, "Not yet anyway. That would be an intrusion into her privacy and I don't want to do that."
"Yet?"
He nodded. "If I ever think she's threatened in any way, I might feel differe
ntly."
Bryan considered that, took a long drink and nodded. "Just let me know."
"Thanks."
"Wanna know what I think?"
Bruce again closed his eyes. "I don't know, do I?"
Bryan shrugged, because they both knew he'd give his advice whether Bruce wanted to hear it or WHEN BRUCE MET CYN ...135
not. Bruce would have done the same in a reverse situation. In fact, he had done the same when Bryan had been fighting his attraction to Shay.
"I think love conquers all." Bryan held his arms out to his sides and grinned. "Look at me. I was a miserable bum until Shay loved me."
Bruce eyed him askance. "And you're now what?"
"Deliriously happy and sexually fulfilled. Don't ever discount the sexual fulfillment part. It counts for a lot."
"I do not want to hear this."
'Tough. Because at the moment, you look like a miserable bum, too, and frankly, it turns my stomach. I like you better when you're all pious and righteous, instead of moping around. It's not what I'm used to. Go after her. Let her know how you feel. Trust her to know what's best for her."
"I can't do that."
"Why not? Much as you might want to think otherwise, and despite how Cyn treats you, you aren't God. You aren't all-wise and all-knowing. You can't take care of the entire world."
Bruce sighed. "You don't think she deserves to enjoy her own life before I push my way into it?"
"You planning to make her miserable?"
He was planning to make love to her, long and hard and forever. Oh God. "No, but I don't know if she's ready."
"Why wouldn't she be? She seems happy enough to me."
"She was..." Bruce swallowed, struggling to get the words out. "Abused. As a child." It still ate him up to think of what she'd gone through. He put the empty glass in the sink before he broke it. "She says she wasn't raped, but if that's true, it's the only indignity she didn't suffer. You know what she reads?"
Bryan just waited.
"Books on child abuse, how to heal, how to avoid becoming an abuser. Even as a kid, she knew she wanted to stop the chain."
"Sounds like she survived it all with her spirit intact. I don't think you're giving her enough credit."
