by Jill Shalvis
"You know, life in general." She shrugged, pretending a lightness she didn't feel. "It was too difficult, it seemed, to go on. I didn't want to." She looked at her hands and whispered, "On the plane here, I thought about dying. How easy it would be. How maybe I deserved it."
He lurched to his feet, pale and stricken. "Haley."
She smiled a little, but still couldn't meet his eyes. "I got over it, Cam. I came here. And within a day, things had changed. I wanted to live. Quite desperately." Now she did turn to face him, and found him standing right before her, looking ready to do battle. For her, she realized with a sweet pang. "You did that for me," she said softly, touching his face. "You and the others."
"Well, thank God for that." He hugged her fiercely. Then he cupped her face, his eyes searching and intense. "Promise me you got over those other feelings—the ones that made you feel you couldn't go on."
"I promise."
Relief came into his expression. But the worry remained. "Haley, I'm not used to keeping my feelings inside, like you. I just can't do it. You're going to have to hear them."
She tried to duck her head, not wanting to see his pity and disgust, but he made her look at him. Surprisingly she saw neither, just compassion, understanding, and far more emotion than she was equipped to handle.
"I hate what you went through," he said gently. "I know there's a lot you've left out, but you'll tell me the rest."
"Yes."
"I hate thinking about you sick, afraid, alone. Feeling worthless." His eyes turned grim. "Wanting to end it all." He kissed her very tenderly. "I'm just so thankful that you made it here. I can't regret that."
He had a way of putting things, she thought, as she felt herself being enclosed in his warm, reassuring embrace. "I'm not sick now," she said, a little amazed by it. She hugged him close, buried her face in the crook of his neck, where he smelled so good. "It's funny, but since I've been here, my stomach has gotten better and I hardly ever get a headache."
"Good. We'll get through this," he said with quiet strength.
How she wanted to believe that. She closed her eyes, listening to the rain pummel at the earth outside.
"Together," he whispered. "We'll do it together. And then, we'll go from there."
Together. The word implied so much. She dug her fingers into his waist, knowing she must look half-wild as she lifted her head. "I've been so afraid for you and the others."
He let out a wordless sound of amazement, of remorse, and pulled her closer. "Darlin', I can protect myself and the others."
"I … care about you."
His eyes went opaque. "Say that again."
"Cam." She let out a little laugh. "You know I do."
"You don't know how it makes me feel to hear it. Say it again," he demanded.
Still uncomfortable with the words, she rolled her eyes and said obediently, "I care for you more than I've ever cared for anyone, but—"
"No," he said gently. "No buts." He kissed her, pouring everything he felt into that one sweet connection. "No more secrets," he declared when the breathless kiss had ended.
"No more," she repeated softly. Then she stole his heart when she pulled his head back to hers.
* * *
From half a world away, the shadowy figure finally got another lead.
It had been badly needed, since the last one had petered out when the call from Haley had been untraceable.
But now there had been several phone calls to the USGS—anonymous, of course. Someone was trying to get information on EVS—specifically on the deaths from the bombing—and that someone was just outside Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Dr. Haley Whitfield? There was no one else left.
Triumph surged. It was just a matter of time now.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
The next morning, Haley took one last swipe over the kitchen floor with her sponge. The tile gleamed from one corner to another, giving her a surge of satisfaction.
When the phone rang, she let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course," she muttered. She stood in the far corner, the length of the huge kitchen away from the telephone.
Ring … ring … ring.
Eyeing the beautifully clean, wet floor, she debated. Let it ring, or make tracks on her perfect tile? She made a face and hopped across the wet floor, leaving the dreaded prints.
"Hello?" she said, breathless. Silence.
"Hello!" she demanded, letting her irritation show.
"Do exactly as I say and I won't kill any of them."
Her heart stopped, the breath clogged in her throat. "What?" she whispered.
"You heard me."
"Lloyd?" Lloyd Branson, her boss. "But … you're dead."
The gruff voice laughed and the evil sound sent chills up Haley's spine. "Am I?"
Mindless, she sank to the wet, pine-smelling floor. Her jeans soaked up the water, but she didn't notice as she leaned back against the counter for support. "You're alive."
"Yes. And everyone else is dead."
How could this have happened? "Alda told me—"
"Exactly what I forced her to tell you. She served her usefulness. She's gone now."
Terror, mind-numbing terror. "You're insane." She sounded so calm. Haley thought. Until she realized. "You know where I am."
"Oh, yes." His voice hardened, sounding unlike the quietly determined, kind man she'd always known him to be. "Pay attention now, Ms. Whitfield. Your freedom's over. You work for me again."
"No." Never.
"Oh, yes. I want you to make a little trip."
"No."
"Back to South America. We have a project to finish, and I'm flying with you to make sure you don't get cold feet or do something stupid … like bring someone with you. You'll meet me at the gate at seven o'clock."
Only hours from now. "No," she whispered.
"Don't forget your passport. I wouldn't want to have to fit you in my suitcase." He laughed softly and goose bumps rose over her skin.
Dear God, he was here. In Colorado. And he knew exactly where she was. "Don't come here," she said quickly. "Please. I'll come to you."
"See that you do."
"Please. Please, don't hurt anyone."
"Follow directions, Haley, and see that I don't have to."
Her stomach turned. She was cold, clammy, and very close to being sick. Her nightmare was coming true and all she could think was that she just might throw up on her newly cleaned floor.
"Dr. Whitfield, are we in agreement?"
"Yes," she whispered, starting to shake. She gripped the phone until her hand went numb. She couldn't see the pretty kitchen, could only see Zach, giving her that sweet, shy smile. Nellie and Jason—and oh, God, their unborn baby. And Cam. She loved him, oh, how she loved him. And now, if she wasn't careful, she'd destroy him.
"Don't hurt them. If you do—"
"No bargains. Now listen up. Once we're back in South America, you'll re-create that undersea system for me. The earth-movement detector. I want another one."
"I can't."
"You can," he insisted roughly. "If you don't, everyone around you will be very, very sorry. I want you to show me how to use the system by myself. I also want your notes. I want your observations. I know you took them with you when you left here."
She hadn't. The small notebook in her purse held only a tiny fraction of her work. Her other notes had all been destroyed in the office bombing. "Okay," she said, afraid to make him angry, just wanting him as far from Colorado as possible.
"When we're done, you will turn yourself in. You'll tell them you stole the uranium and sold it, and that you bombed EVS."
And because everyone thought him dead, he'd be free. With the uranium—which she had no doubt he'd sell to the highest bidder—he'd be wealthy beyond imagination. He'd never be found.
He'd get off, free and clear. And he'd be able to use her system as he pleased. She wouldn't let this happen, she vowed. She'd stop him someho
w, and she'd gladly die to do it. "Why are you doing this?"
"Greed," he said simply. "Pure greed. You were the head of my team. The smartest and the best. Certainly the only one capable of creating a system to predict earthquakes and volcanoes that any first-class government would pay an arm and a leg for. I'd much rather use you than kill you, Haley, but I'll do what I have to."
She could hear the hissing of his breath over the wire, could see again in her mind the dead bodies of Frederick and Danyella as they lay covered in blood. Could imagine Bob's and Alda's death. He'd do the same to everyone here without a qualm.
"Haley?" It was Zach now, standing in the kitchen, looking down at her strangely. "You okay?"
She stared up at him from the floor, the receiver still against her ear. She could see his lips moving, but couldn't make out the words over the roaring in her head.
"Don't screw this up, Haley. You'll be very sorry if you do," Branson said in her ear. "The airport. Seven o'clock." He hung up.
Haley lowered her gaze from Zach to stare dully at the receiver in her hand. What the hell was she going to do? Then she dropped the phone as though it could burn her hand.
Zach bent and took her hands in his. "Haley? Look at me." When she did, he frowned. "Are you sick?"
Branson would kill them, she thought, fear skittering up her spine. If she didn't do exactly as he said, he'd kill them all. She blinked away the haze of panic and straightened, then forced herself to smile at Zach. "I'm fine. Just got dizzy for a minute there, that's all."
"The cleaner's pretty strong stuff. You shouldn't use so much of it." He reached for her, helped her to her feet, his gaze never leaving her face. "You don't look good. Let me help you into the living room."
She was too weak to protest.
"Wait here," he said, when she'd slumped into a chair. "I'm going to get you some water."
When he left, she dropped her face into her hands.
She'd have to go back. Back to hell. How would she survive it? Would she even be allowed to?
"Here." Zach was back, pressing a glass of water into her hands. He sat on the coffee table before her. "Are you sure—"
"I'm fine now." Sheer strength of will had her lying more fluently than she'd ever done before. Smiling and even laughing a little, she stood. "But you're right about the fumes. I think I'll go lie down for a little while." She had to lock her knees together to keep them from giving out.
Zach nodded slowly, carefully examining her face. "That sounds like a good idea." He patted her hand. "Don't worry about lunch or dinner, okay? We'll be fine."
She smiled again and just managed to walk from the room without falling into a heaping, sobbing mess.
She couldn't call the police; they'd take her away, leaving the Reeveses vulnerable and unprotected for when Branson came for his revenge.
She would have to leave the world she'd come to love beyond her wildest dreams. She had to. Then she could call the police, if she got the chance before Branson killed her.
But first, she had to make her fantasy come true. She deserved that much, at least. She had to get Cam to make love with her. She couldn't face her death without that.
* * *
Cam sanded the oak rocking chair with loving hands that soothed and coaxed the best from the wood. He'd never made a rocker before, but he'd wanted to give Nellie and Jason's unborn baby a special gift.
And someday, he wanted his own baby to be rocked in this chair.
That thought startled him enough to straighten and stare into space with a dreamy expression on his face.
A baby. His baby.
He'd thought he'd never want another, not after having lost his son before he'd even gotten to hold him. But oh, he did, and he wanted one with Haley.
Haley.
He'd stayed up until dawn trying to figure out what to do. There was simply no way to keep her safe and hidden for the rest of her life. It wasn't right. She had to turn herself in and fight. He'd he at her side, of course. His entire family would. But coming to that decision and convincing Haley of it were two different things. She had to go willingly, for he simply couldn't handle the thought of calling the authorities behind her back. He had to make her see reason, and he had to do it today, before it was too late.
He looked up as the barn doors opened, letting in the sunlight and the scent of late autumn. Wind and leaves twirled through the opening as Haley stepped inside.
A greeting died on his tongue at the look of immeasurable sorrow on her face. But the moment she saw him, her expression was transformed. The promise of passion took his breath. He dropped the sandpaper and went to her, reaching for her hands.
"Haley?"
She managed a smile, but it seemed too bright, and Cam felt the first inkling of dread. "It's freezing outside and you're not wearing a coat."
She gave a little laugh, completely without mirth.
He tightened his grip on her fingers. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said quickly—too quickly, which did nothing to relieve the pit in his stomach. "I just … have something I want to do."
She reached up on tiptoe to set her lips on his. He jolted in surprise, and would have pulled back, but she threw her arms around his neck to hold him still and teased the corner of his mouth with a flirty pass of her tongue. Instantly, his heart drummed hard and fast against hers as she pressed her body to his. Wait, he tried to say. He wanted to look at her, assure himself she was okay. He could feel her tremble, could feel how cold and clammy she was, and he couldn't shake the sense that something was terribly, horribly wrong. He thought he could taste her desperation and fear, her needs and doubts…
"You're thinking too much," she said.
And then he couldn't think at all because she'd slipped her hands up beneath his T-shirt to streak over his bare, heated skin.
"I want you," she whispered huskily.
His hands, which he'd lifted to her waist, froze. "You— Now?"
She let out a sound that might have been a laugh. She tipped her head back, and he could see the shadow of fear in her eyes, though she kept her gaze steady and level on his. "Yes, now."
"Are you sure?"
Her lips curved. "Are you going to turn me down, Cam?"
It was easy to ignore the soft sarcasm when he still couldn't get past the feeling that something wasn't right. "You've waited a long time for this, Haley. I just don't want you to regret it. I don't think I could stand it if you did."
"You are going to turn me down." With a sound of impatience, she moved away from him. "I'm really not very good at this, I knew that." She let out a little laugh. "I actually thought… Oh, never mind." Stumbling, she went for the door.
His heart broke at the rejection he'd seen flash on her face. "Wait." He reached for her and gently turned her back to look at him. "You thought what?"
Face reddening, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. "I thought I could seduce you. Silly, huh?"
The yearning grew and spread until his body ached with it. How could she not know what she did to him? "No, it's not silly." He traced her jaw with his fingers. Her skin felt so silky, so soft. She wore the peek-a-boo blouse tucked into a long skirt that brushed against his thighs. He'd never seen anyone look so beautiful or desirable. "You've been seducing me for weeks with little to no effort from you at all."
She gripped the front of his shirt with tight fists. "Then make love with me. Now."
Need and longing swirled inside him, so deep and so strong it was amazing to him that he could remain on his feet. The cold, crisp air blowing in the door did nothing to cool him down. She wanted him, and yet … the absolute sense of urgency, the desperate look in her eyes told him that something was wrong.
Haley mistook his silence.
Squaring her shoulders, she gave him one of her regal looks. "Never mind," she said. "I can see the idea of making love with me just thrills the hell out of you." She spun away, but before he could so much as take a step t
oward her, she whirled back, fury emanating from her every pore.
"Wait a minute," she said unevenly, pushing her hair from her face. "All my life I've been doing this. Accepting casual criticism without a murmur. Taking rejection silently, painfully. I won't do it anymore, Cam. Not even for you." She jabbed his chest with her finger, her eyes misting, but her voice remained calm. "I thought you were different. These past few weeks have meant something to me."
"Haley—"
She evaded his touch. "No, don't. I'm sorry." She shrugged. "You know what? I've got to go."
When had the conversation taken this bad turn? Cam found his limbs and grabbed for Haley as she rushed out, but she fought him with a strength he hadn't guessed she had. Finally, unable to do anything else, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, restraining her.
"Dammit, Cam," she muttered, fighting wildly. "Let me go."
"You're wrong, Haley," he said gruffly into her ear. "Wrong, if you think I was playing with you, that I don't really want you." He turned her in his arms and shook her gently until she looked at him, her glorious blue eyes bright with humiliation. He couldn't stand it. "I wasn't rejecting you just now. My God, you think I could? You just startled me, that's all." He had to laugh at himself. "You came in here with the offer I've been waiting for and I lost all capability to think."
He realized that, given her limited experience, she might have no idea what he was talking about. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" he asked, because he still couldn't believe that a woman who looked and felt like she did was a virgin.
She shook her head, her eyes wide on his, and his blood surged.
"God, you're sweet," he said, giving her a quick, hard kiss. "You make me ache for you, Haley, everywhere." With a slow, easy gesture, he grabbed her hips and rubbed them against his. He knew by her sharp intake of breath, she hadn't missed his very unmistakable desire. "Yeah, that's what you do to me, darlin'," he whispered, then nearly died of pleasure when, with an instinctual movement, she slid herself over him again.
At the connection, her mouth fell open, her head dropped back. "Oh!" she whispered, obviously finding equal pleasure. Cam wanted to lose himself in her, but he had to make one thing clear. He gripped her waist in his hands to keep her still, waiting until her glazed eyes met his. "Haley," he murmured. "Listen to me. You'll never have to scramble for affection, or attention with me. Never."
