“Bullshit. You’re as guilty as hell of hurting her, you son of a bitch.”
Chris leaped from the chair and stormed across the landing into the guest bedroom. Yanking open a chest of drawers, he snatched out a pair of swimming shorts and then marched into the bathroom. He grabbed a towel, some shower gel and the shampoo. He had to do something to regain his equilibrium and stop from sprinting to Angela’s house on nothing more than a crashing wave of male protectiveness.
Images of the flood, of Angela’s beautiful picture strewn across five pages of the day’s paper and Masters’s grin whirled inside his head. He reentered the bedroom and snatched his backpack from a hook on the back of the door. Stuffing everything inside, he slung it over his shoulder and rushed downstairs.
He needed to vent some of his frustration. He needed to clear his head and think what to do next. Angela’s safety and now, according to Cat, his own safety, were in jeopardy, but hell would freeze over before he or Angela waited in the Cove like sitting ducks at a fairground shooting alley.
A hard swim would give him time to gather his thoughts and formulate a plan.
Grabbing the Saab’s keys from the basket by the front door, Chris strode outside and got into the car. He turned the ignition and the car’s powerful engine rumbled fiercely, sending his frustration veering up another notch. He reversed in the wide driveway, sending up a spray of gravel as he pulled away.
Driving through the busy streets awash with holidaymakers and residents, he headed for Templeton’s leisure center situated at the far end of town. As he passed the turn that would take him toward Angela’s house, he stared steadfastly ahead, his jaw tight. He would not go there and make things worse for her. Cat had given him a rundown of her conversation with Angela at the station and told him at least ten times to leave Angela alone and let Cat do her job.
The command from his sister rankled, but she was right. His being near Angela made things twenty times more dangerous for her if Masters thought there was anything romantic between them. Chris shook his head. Romance. What a joke.
Tightening his fingers around the steering wheel, he drove on until the whitewashed walls of the leisure center appeared on the horizon. On rainy days during the Forrester family holidays, the center had been Chris’s refuge. Once Cat hit puberty, he’d pretty much lost her and Jay to each other. Not that either of them realized it at the time.
Or maybe they did and he was just a blind gooseberry. Or most likely just blind—like he’d been to everything around him for so many years of his damn life.
Well, that was the end of it. There was no way he was going to have another failure on his conscience. This time it was a woman’s life. A woman whom he felt as drawn to as he had Melinda. A woman who knew her own mind just like Melinda. A woman who had all the characteristics to one day make a great mother...like Melinda. Nausea rose bitter in his throat. He couldn’t go down that path again and end up with shit all over his face. He’d do his damnedest to help Cat protect Angela and once they knew she was out of danger, he’d go home to Reading and damn well stay there.
CHAPTER TEN
ANGELA CARRIED HER lunch of a tuna sandwich and chips to the couch even though the notion of eating a single bite made her nauseous. Her stomach rumbled its indignation. Her throat hadn’t cooperated as far as food was concerned since she’d left the police station two nights before. She sat and stared at the blank TV, her lunch forgotten.
According to DI Garrett, and her subsequent daily phone calls, Robert was still at his home address but as the sun rose each day since the flood, Angela sensed his approach. It was as though her worst nightmare resided under her skin. Her entire existence had spun one hundred and eighty degrees and she was back at the place she never wanted to visit again.
When DI Garrett telephoned that morning, she explained they couldn’t keep Robert under surveillance indefinitely, no matter how much she wanted to. Angela clenched her jaw. Government funding. She’d mentioned government funding.
The clanging of her letterbox shattered her nerves and Angela started. The day’s newspaper lay ominously upon the carpet by the door. Her hands turned clammy as she slowly pushed to her feet. Swallowing hard, she snatched up the paper.
Please, God, no more pictures. Please, God, no more pictures.
She lowered onto the sofa and stared at the paper as though it were about to burst into an origami monster and throttle her. Her breath clogged in her throat as she opened it. She had to believe Robert didn’t want his ass thrown back into jail. Three years in prison would’ve been hard on him. She had to believe he’d let her go for his own sanity.
The front page showed the state of the holiday park three days later. Cars dotted the thick brown mud; furniture was overturned and ruined packets of food floated through the mess. Clothes were scattered and forgotten. The reality of what had happened in those few hours struck Angela anew. The road ahead would be a hard one.
Yet, as she turned the page, burgeoning strength glowed warm inside her. Even now, with the threat of Robert being so close, she cared more about other things than what he would or wouldn’t do. She cared about the holiday park. She cared about the people who lived, worked or holidayed there. She cared about Templeton. Most of all, she cared about the chance of a future.
Her ex-husband would not change that.
DI Garrett had suggested she leave the Cove. And do what? Leave everyone else to clean up the mess caused by an act of God? No way. She loved the park. Considered it hers. She’d help with the cleanup, whether the inspector wanted her to or not.
Angela’s mouth dried as her body tensed, waiting for the inevitable. Page by page nothing but local news was announced. Then she hit the center spread and sucked in a breath.
“Oh, God. No.”
The picture was almost six years old to the day. A day when she hadn’t thought she’d ever be happier. She smiled into the camera, her eyes alive and shining with the unmistakable look of new love. Dressed in a pure white wedding gown and veil, her smile was wide as Robert stared at her hair. His face a mask of adoration. A mask was the only word to describe it. His first punch came that night.
Angela swiped the tears from her cheeks. Slowly, over the following months, her world had unraveled until she was a broken mess and crying in the arms of a policewoman named Carolyn. She could still smell the woman’s perfume. Another scarred reminder that brought everything back if she came near someone wearing the same scent.
The memories crashed and burned inside her. The nights of yelling and screaming, the days of begging and pleading, the hours of waiting for his return and gauging his mood. How had she let herself be a victim for so long? Weak. Weak and pathetic. Isn’t that what Robert called her time and again?
Humiliation and shame lingered at the periphery of her mind and Angela shoved it into submission. She tilted her chin. She wasn’t a victim anymore and she never would be again.
A flash flood had brought everything tumbling down around her, but she’d get through this. She’d been careful not to engage in personal friendships, let alone relationships. She’d worked hard and kept the park guests happy, rather than herself. Pain assaulted her chest once more as she read the copy and covered her mouth to stop her anguish escaping. The words said very little but insinuated everything. Her quiet life of the past two years was over.
When she stepped outside her front door, once again the pitying glances would be in the stores and at the holiday park and beach, just as they had been in her hometown before she moved to the Cove. There would be no escape. The press would be at her house sometime that day. She knew the drill. She knew they’d want her broken and weeping.
Anger whipped into a hot burning ball of fire inside her chest, and Angela flung the paper across the room. The pages fluttered and flew like huge pieces of malicious confetti. Tears burned her eyes, but she pulled ba
ck her shoulders. She wouldn’t break.
So what if the phantom had come back to haunt her? So what if Robert’s face danced and leered behind her closed lids all night until she’d given up on sleep? She’d get through this. She had to.
She picked up a chip. A single chip was better than eating nothing. Angela put it into her mouth. Pushing a boulder through a pothole came to mind as she chewed. She’d just managed to swallow it when her phone vibrated against her breast. The hairs at her nape prickled.
She closed her eyes and pulled the phone from her pocket like she would the pin from a grenade. It vibrated over and over in her hand as she summoned the strength to look at the display. Angela drew in a long breath and opened her eyes. The number was withheld.
She felt Robert’s presence as though the phone was the weight of his hand in hers.
Don’t answer it. Don’t answer it.
She pressed the talk button. “Hello?”
“Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice slithered into her blood, turning it icy-cold.
“Robert.”
He laughed. “The one and only.”
The silent seconds passed with each thump of her heart. She swallowed her fear and pulled back her shoulders. “Where are you?”
“Where do you think I am?”
Anger and revulsion mixed with trepidation, making her tremble. She pursed her lips together. It was better she said nothing and let him do the talking. She couldn’t trust herself not to tell him where to get off and anger him further. She closed her eyes, hating the way she slipped so easily back into the role of submissive in return for survival.
“Why did you think you could run, Angie? I love you. You’re mine. Haven’t I told you that a thousand times?”
She tightened her grip on the phone.
Another laugh. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart. I learned that in prison. Remember, prison? It’s where you sent me. It’s where I’ve had three years to think about the lies you told about me. How you lost me my job, my life, my kids.”
She sucked in a breath like he’d rammed his fist into her stomach. Her self-control snapped as his insanity loomed large once more. “Kids? We have no kids. You beat me, Robert. You raped me.”
Silence.
Her blood pulsed loud and erratic in her ears, and her body shook.
His exhalation rasped along the phone line. “I helped you understand. I helped you to see we couldn’t fight about the inevitable. You’re mine and I’m yours.”
Sweat broke out cold on her forehead. “Do you know where I am?”
“Yes.”
Angela bit down on her lip to stop from crying out. Tears burned hot behind her eyes. It was over. Her life as she knew it had shifted. She was the hunted once again. Only this time, she had a choice to flee rather than being helplessly trapped within the walls of the luxurious five-bedroom town house Robert called their home.
“Are you coming for me, Robert? I have a right to know.”
“In a while. When I’m ready for you.”
Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. “The police are here. Right now. They’re watching me, and they’re watching you.”
He laughed. “There’s a raggedy old cop outside my house as we speak, my love. He’s chewing on a chocolate bar and laughing at something amusing in the paper. He’s most likely looking at your picture with that son of a bitch Chris fucking Forrester staring at you like he wants to make you his.”
Her heart picked up speed. “Leave him alone, Robert. He has nothing to do with us.”
“Us? Glad you’re seeing sense. Us is exactly right.”
Angela stood and paced the room. Anger roared up inside her. There was no chance of him getting anywhere near Chris. She’d damn well sacrifice herself rather than drag Chris into Robert’s sick world.
“He’s nobody, Robert. Just a man who helped me during the flood. He saved so many people and doesn’t deserve to have you make him a part of what goes on between me and you.”
“Is that so?”
Angela gripped the phone. “Yes. If you want to get yourself thrown back into jail, then damn well come and find me, but I’m telling you now, if you so much as look at Chris Forrester—”
“I’ve got to go now, sweetheart.” Robert’s voice took on the tone of boredom. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
“For God’s sake—”
The line buzzed in her ear and she ended the call. Her mind rushed and her heart beat fast. Now what? Did she ring DI Garrett? Chris? She clenched her jaw. DI Garrett needed to know. Any contact, she’d said. Any contact and they could arrest him. Angela clenched her jaw. She didn’t want her involved. If she told her, the inspector would inevitably tell her brother. Her entire motivation lay in her God-given right to be the driving force in her own life—and Chris not getting hurt or killed.
Tears smarted her eyes. God, she cared about him. For the first time in forever, she cared about a man, wanted him to be happy regardless of there being zero chance of that happiness being shared with her.
She drew in a long breath. Robert was back playing with her emotions and fear like an evil puppeteer. The control wouldn’t stop until he was dead and buried six feet under. She struggled to contain her rage as it warred with her intellect. Nothing blocked out his voice. Nothing blocked out his laughter or lessened the maelstrom of images storming her memory.
To kill or be killed. One way or another, the end was nigh. Robert would not reduce her to the mess she’d been before. Whether he realized it or not, this time Angela would be the one to end this.
* * *
ON THE RETURN journey from a swim that had done zilch to alleviate the frustration pulsing through his body at a hundred miles an hour, Chris stopped at the bottom of the road leading to Angela’s house. He cut the engine. He might’ve managed to resist the temptation to see her on the way to the leisure center, but passing it a second time had proved too damn difficult.
He had to make sure she was okay. The threat of Masters lingered in his every thought. Cat would be doing everything she could, yet it still remained that Angela refused police help. When he’d stepped into the parking lot after his swim, something urgent tugged at him. The hairs on his forearms rose. Something bad had seeped into the Cove. He felt it.
The sky had darkened. Gun-metal clouds gathered in the distance and the bright morning sun had disappeared. He drew in a long breath and released it from between gritted teeth. He should go. Start the engine and get his ass the hell back to Cat’s before he did something stupid like pull up outside Angela’s front door and demand she see him. Tell her he was there for her. That he’d protect her.
You won’t go the distance. You never have before.
His father’s words reverberated in his head. It was Cat their father relied on. Cat who put things right. Chris shook his head. Crap. The mistakes he’d made, the reluctance to get involved and risk getting it wrong was borne from his own self-doubt. Nothing more. He wasn’t that guy anymore. It had taken his sister’s temporary absence and the realization of his mother’s deterioration to make him see he was equally as capable as everyone else of getting things wrong—or right. Shit happened.
He didn’t want shit happening to Angela.
She deserved to stay in the Cove if that’s what she wanted. She deserved a new life. A new future. Just as he did. Mistakes were made, but that shouldn’t—couldn’t—be it. Life moved on. People changed and turned their lives around. God forgave and encouraged. But he was afraid that his thoughts were nothing more than Oprah-style bullshit. He had to believe he hadn’t wasted his life. He had to believe there was more.
His gaze focused once more to the stretch of road ahead of him. Why did he feel Angela was in more danger today than yesterday?
He snatched his cell phone from the passenger seat and di
aled. Cat picked up on the third ring. “Chris.”
“I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay.”
There was a moment’s silence before Cat cleared her throat. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
Chris frowned. She was most definitely not okay. He glanced once more toward Angela’s house. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Chris, where are you?”
“It doesn’t matter where I am. What’s wrong? Is it Angela? Has something happened?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Her exhalation rasped along the line. “This is official police business, Chris. I can’t talk to you. You did your part. I asked you to get her to the station, nothing else. Now you need to back off before you make my job a whole lot harder.”
Anger pulsed at his temple. “Back off? You get me into this. You push me to push her, and now you get to choose when I back off? I don’t think so.”
“For crying out loud, this is serious. Why can’t you understand? He’ll come after you. He could shoot you dead...beat you to a goddamn pulp. The man is a lunatic and I have enough on my plate having Angela to think about without adding you to the mix. Now go and do something else. Leave Angela Taylor and Masters to me. I can’t be there for both of you.”
He tightened his grip on the phone. Something was wrong. Really wrong. If Cat thought for one minute he was going to walk away now, she’d better think again. “Masters is still where he should be, right?” The silence beat like a clang of impending doom against his ear. “Cat?”
“I don’t know.”
A Man Like Him Page 11
