A Man Like Him

by Rachel Brimble

  He sat bolt upright, his gaze darting up the road toward Angela’s house. “You don’t know?”

  “My hands are tied. I had to pull the officers from his house this morning.”

  “What? Why?” His hand tightened on the phone as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

  “Because I can’t keep them there indefinitely, that’s why. This isn’t about what I’d like to do. It’s what I have to do. We cannot keep officers out in the field without good reason. Masters has served his time and so far not stepped a foot out of line. Until he—”

  “Kills her? Rapes her? That’s insane. She lives alone, Cat. Alone.”

  “And you think I don’t know that? For God’s sake, go back to Reading and stay there. Just leave. For me. Angela won’t leave the Cove and I can’t force her, but I don’t want you on my conscience when Angela should be my only focus. This is not a case where the guy comes in to save the day. You’re not the right person to help her deal with this.”

  Trepidation twisted a knot in his gut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She sighed. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m just saying Angela gets to call the shots. Not you. She’s in serious danger. So are you. I appreciate you stepping in when I asked you to, but it ends here. I want you alive, not dead because of something I asked you to do.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t have another thing that I ran from on my conscience. I’ve messed up too many times.”

  “For God’s sake, you’ve done as much as you can. Any more and you’re making this personal.” She sighed. “Please, Chris. Don’t make this personal. Personal only complicates things.”

  Before he could say anymore, the line went dead. Chris sat immobile, his heart beating hard and fast.

  Don’t make this personal.

  Didn’t Cat understand what was happening? It became personal the minute he set eyes on Angela. It became more than personal when she held a gun, standing alone and frightened in her own home. His common sense bypassed anything but the need to protect her the moment she tried to shut him out.

  Indecision battled a war inside him. If he went to Angela’s, he could do more harm than good. Cat didn’t want him there and he was pretty sure Angela didn’t, either.

  Frustration and blinding anger tore through him on a tidal wave. He had to do something. If he couldn’t see Angela, couldn’t take her into his arms and show her he cared for her from the moment he looked into her eyes on the clubhouse roof, then he’d attack the source. He’d find Masters.

  Chris turned the key in the ignition and, with a final glance toward Angela’s house, tore down the road and back into the Cove.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THREE HOURS LATER, Chris put down the phone and stared at the minimized website windows bunched together at the bottom of his sister’s computer screen. His eyes were sore and his mood worse. He didn’t doubt Masters’s ability to turn up at Templeton anytime soon—and he now entirely understood Angela’s reluctance to involve the police since this whole nightmare started over for her.

  He moved the cursor over one of the icons and clicked.

  The picture of Angela crying into her mother’s shoulder on the courtroom steps right after Masters was sentenced damn near cut a hole in his heart. She looked as though she was ready to crumple to the ground; the last of her internal resources spent. Chris tightened his jaw. She looked nothing like the woman she was now.

  If he had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t again, either. He’d do whatever it took to prevent Masters from coming anywhere near her. Somehow, he needed to convince Angela she could trust him. The attraction humming between them was one thing; it was completely another for a woman who’d gone through what she had to trust again.

  He needed to prove to her that he was on her side for the duration—and that he understood her need to do things her way. To a point.

  Chris closed the internet browser and picked up the notepad where he had been jotting down bits and pieces of information. Lord only knew what Cat’s phone bill would be next month, but at least he’d built up a damn good idea of just what kind of a bastard Masters was. Given Masters’s history with Angela, Chris accepted it was highly unlikely that the bastard would consider his job done as long as Angela was still alive.

  The man had been interrogated to ensure he was worthy to stand trial. His lawyer had attempted the “diminished responsibility” card before Masters proved without doubt he wasn’t insane, just downright dangerous and singularly obsessed with his wife.

  He picked up the phone and dialed Cat’s number. He needed to hear that she truly understood just how obsessed Masters had become over the four years he was with Angela. Just how dangerous he was. The phone rang in his ear a few times before it kicked to voice mail.

  “Damn it.” He put down the receiver.

  Debating what to do next, Chris stood and snatched his notepad from the desk. Knowledge was power. He felt certain he could convince Angela that Cat was not the same as the police she’d had to rely on in her hometown of Standbridge, but a woman who’d lost her friend to a maniac and would do everything to ensure that never happened again.

  He was also a damn sight more prepared for Masters if the son of a bitch showed up.

  Just as he moved to walk out the room, the phone rang. Smiling, he tossed the notepad back on the desk. Time to get the ball rolling.

  “Cat. Are you okay? I’ve been busy this afternoon. Really busy. Hope you’ve got a pen handy because you need to write down what I’ve found out about Masters.”

  Silence.

  “Cat?”

  “I’m all ears, Christopher. Do go on.”

  Chris froze. Holy shit. This he hadn’t expected. It was him. Masters’s voice was as clear and confident as it was on any of the many interviews Chris had watched that day. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man himself.”

  “How are you, Mr. Forrester? Still busy pursuing my wife?”

  Chris gripped the phone. “You’re deluded on both counts, Masters. One, you’re not married to her, and two, I don’t pursue women, I treat them with respect and if it progresses, pray to God they’re willing to take a chance on a guy like me. It’s the normal way things are done.”

  Masters laughed. “Normal? And what is the abnormal?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Terrorizing them into staying with you? Keeping them away from family and friends? Beating them? Shall I go on?”

  Masters exhaled as though bored. “Why have you been trying to find me, Christopher? Is there something you need to say to me?”

  Chris closed his eyes and willed his temper into submission. His knuckles ached from how tightly he was holding the phone. What he wouldn’t give to be holding Masters’s neck. “My first question is how you knew I was asking questions about you. And how the hell did you get my number?”

  Masters laughed again. “I have lots of friends. Friends willing to keep their ear to the ground on the lookout for little ferrets who should mind their own business. Especially when those ferrets are moving in on another man’s wife.”

  “She’s not your damn wife.”

  “If I say she is, Christopher, she is. Can I make a suggestion? If you don’t want people calling you, you either refrain from giving out your number in the first place—or keep your nose the fuck out of other people’s lives.”

  A headache thumped at Chris’s temple. He had to keep calm; had to keep Masters’s talking. “Then I assume at some point you’re going to want a reunion with your wife.”

  “Absolutely...when the time is right. You don’t know Angela, you know.”

  “Really? And what makes you say that?”

  “She loves me. She’d tell me constantly. Do you think our relationship took a downturn just through my actions? She was equally to blame. She’d say one thing
, want another. She hurt me as I hurt her. Now it’s time for us to apologize and start again. You, Christopher, will not get in the way of that.”

  “It’s her fault you beat her? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Silence.

  Chris closed his eyes as rage tore at his senses. He swallowed hard. “Won’t you at least give me a clue when you’ll be coming so I can put up some balloons and chill the champagne?”

  “You are a funny man. Unfortunately I’ve had enough of this pathetic chitchat. I want you to listen to what I have to say and then make sure you do as you’re told. If you don’t, it will be Angela who suffers.”

  Chris glared at the wall, his anger making his skin itch and his mind fill with images of ancient and barbaric acts of dealing with criminals. He blinked and refocused. “I’m listening. Go ahead.” He pulled his notepad closer and picked up a pen.

  “I’m the husband of the woman you supposedly saved, among others, from the flood a few days ago. A flood that looks like it was no big deal. How many died? Twenty? God, it’s hardly a bloody massacre, is it?”

  Chris shook his head. “You are some piece of work, Masters.”

  “Shut up. Angela is mine. Her parents gave her to me. Understand? Not you. Me. Now I’ll give you this single warning. Stay away from her. Stay away or Angela will pay for every mistake you make. Every single one.”

  “Go to hell. Nobody tells me—”

  The line buzzed dead in his ear.

  “Bastard. Damn cowardly, son of... Bastard.”

  Putting the phone down, Chris leaped from the chair and ripped the sheet of paper from his notepad. He had to find Angela. Masters was coming. If he wasn’t here already.

  * * *

  ANGELA FISTED HER hands on her hips. The park looked like TV news images of a slum. Thick, drying mud covered everything in sight. Faded color interspersed the brown like pinpricks of a past life. Yet the scattered cots, suitcases, clothes and toys represented survival and the building blocks for recovery. Angela swallowed. That’s what she and the rest of the cleanup team needed to embrace if they were going to get through the next weeks of sorting through the devastation.

  Her staff and numerous volunteers stood around her, their faces etched with concern and concentration as they waited for her instruction. Angela slowly walked between them, taking in their murmurs of hope and positivity, their need and conviction to make a difference. She inhaled deeply. The human spirit was a hard thing to break in the face of adversity.

  Three days had passed since Robert’s phone call and she’d heard nothing else from him. She’d been right not to inform DI Garrett. The courage and strength of staying in the Cove despite his call did more for her self-confidence than Robert could realize. She didn’t need to lean on the police as she had before. She would bide her time. Wait to see what happened next—in between, she’d work on helping people who had immediate problems. People with nowhere to live. No belongings. Lost loved ones.

  Angela narrowed her eyes. Robert was weak. A coward. He didn’t deserve her thoughts or her time.

  DI Garrett had “dropped by” or phoned daily to check on her, but as far as Angela was concerned, the checks would be the limit of police involvement until she deemed it absolutely necessary. She wanted Chris kept out of it—the only way to ensure that was to make zero contact with his sister. There was little chance of her care for him disappearing anytime soon, but she would continue to work at it. The man had yet to leave her thoughts for a single damn minute.

  She stopped by the edge of one of the park’s swimming pools and frowned. Robert was enjoying himself. She sensed his glee knowing she was in limbo. Helpless. Well, he was wrong. He might be acting on his promise to bide his time, but she wasn’t in limbo and she wouldn’t stand around waiting. He could take all the time he wanted. She had things to do. Anger pinched hot at her cheeks. The man’s nerves were like bands of steel wrapped around a heart colder than stone—and she welcomed her unexpected feelings for Chris Forrester—they proved Robert hadn’t made her heart the same way.

  She inhaled a shaky breath. Whenever she thought of how she’d called for the police’s help in the past and they let her down, her stomach knotted with the certainty that wouldn’t be the case if she called Chris....

  Angela moved away from the pool, her gaze darting from one area to the next as she mentally identified and noted each challenge that had to be tackled. Work would be her focus as much as possible. Chris was already too far inside her head to be comfortable. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit she would’ve loved the opportunity to get to know him better, but it was too dangerous for both of them.

  Physically and emotionally.

  So she’d keep him at an arm’s length and, in the meantime, hope and pray he returned to his hometown where he’d be safe. She was afraid for him, for her—most of all, the fact her judgment couldn’t be trusted. She hadn’t gotten it right the first time around when her heart raced and her skin tingled for a man’s touch. She’d be a liar to deny Robert made her feel wanted and special, attractive and sexy when they first met. Chris made her feel those exact same things again, yet fifty times stronger.

  “Angela?” Yvonne’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  She turned and plastered on a smile. “Hey. What did you think of the office and reception?”

  Yvonne grimaced. “It’s not brilliant, is it? But not as bad as I expected, either.”

  Angela squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to round up a couple of the staff and make a start in there. Would you mind getting some others to start in the clubhouse?”

  “Of course not. Don’t get too stressed out over this, okay? We’ll get there eventually.” Yvonne squeezed Angela’s hand back and disappeared among the workers.

  Angela stared after her. This was what was important. Not the girlish thrill that shivered through her every time Chris’s hazel eyes wandered over her face and body. It would’ve been nice if she could explore it, but she couldn’t. It was too much of a risk to let Chris know how he made her feel. More than anything, it would be incredibly selfish. She wasn’t worth a man risking his life. Robert could ruin him.

  Plus, I’m afraid for me as much as him. What if he wants to control me? What if he wants to keep me tied and bound to his desires and wishes?

  Angela cursed against the harsh stinging behind her eyes and swiped at her tears. Hating the sinking sense of loss reverberating through her. The photographs of her and Chris together had not only opened the raw and still weeping wound of Robert’s abuse, they’d added salt. The electricity humming between her and Chris was tangible but that was of no consequence. He’d come to the Cove fleeing a past relationship, to heal the scars of betrayal. The trip had led to him coming face-to-face with a bigger and more dangerous problem.

  A problem that couldn’t be seen and instead lurked in the shadows like an invisible and potent gas. A gas that could kill. She saw the protection in Chris’s eyes when he looked at her, saw the determination in the clench of his jaw and, no matter how much she wanted to trust him, she wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

  She drew in a shaky breath. The park and the damage served as a symbol of overcoming whatever the world threw at you. When disaster struck, you dealt with it head-on. That time was now. Angela faced her team of staff and public volunteers chattering around her.

  “Okay. And so it begins. What we’re going to do—” The breath left her lungs. Chris stood directly in front of her, side by side with the other volunteers.

  His eyes were intense and dark, his jaw set and his shoulders stiff. She should’ve known. The public appeal for help had been splashed over the pages of the local paper all week. How could Chris not be there? Damn it. Deep down inside hadn’t she hoped he’d come?

  She snatched her gaze from his and looked around the assemble
d group. “Um...there are Dumpsters on the two fields on either side of the park. Everything unsalvageable needs to be thrown into them. It’s going to be a slow process, so please don’t exhaust yourself trying to be superman or—woman. This is going to take weeks of hard work.” She brought her hands together as if praying. “I thank God for each of you being here to make this happen. Between us, we’ll get this once beautiful park up and running again. That’s a promise.” She clapped her hands. “Let’s get started.”

  People dispersed left and right, leaving Angela standing alone to face Chris. His eyes never left hers as all around them noise and good-natured optimism erupted. With her heart beating fast, she slowly walked toward him and he toward her. They stopped a safe two-foot distance apart.

  “So...you’re here.” Angela tilted her head to meet his eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Traitorous tears gathered in her throat. It was so good to see him. “I’m fine.”

  His gaze drifted to her mouth. The tense and silent atmosphere between them hitched up a notch. “I stayed away because I had to, not because I wanted to.”

  She gave a small smile. “I guessed as much. You don’t need to worry about me. Your sister rings every day, sometimes twice a day, checking up on me. I’m fine.”

  He met her eyes. “I’m here to help.”

  His meaning was clear. He was there to help with more than the cleanup. He wasn’t going to disappear again. “Chris—”

  “Where do you want me?” His eyes darkened with determination, his jaw tight. “Working with you? Or someone else?”

  The seconds passed like drumbeats until the tension between them crackled with the unspoken words that itched at Angela’s tongue. She’d longed to call him. To see him. She’d done nothing about either, knowing her reasons were selfish.

  She blew out a breath and decided to play it safe. To be ignorant of the underlying meaning to his question. She turned and looked around her. “It’s going to be a long job.”

  “Angela?”