“What does that mean? Surely you don’t expect me to finance my own kidnapping?”
He flashed me a brilliant smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I stared like a moron and snapped my mouth shut, making a conscious effort to pull my eyes back into their sockets.
“Well, your husband anyway,” he replied, still grinning ear to ear.
I spun around and focused blindly out my side window. “Yeah, right…my husband.”
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he was purposely trying to manipulate me with his charm. But it didn’t seem to matter much what I knew. I still had a visceral reaction to his smile, and as much as it irritated me to admit, it caught me a little off guard. I felt betrayed by my body to have even the slightest response to it, involuntary or otherwise. Of course, I would never let him see it, but it struck me then that good-looking men like Tyler knew exactly the effect they had on women.
It wasn’t surprising though. Beautiful women were common; handsome men were not. But honestly, you couldn’t even categorize Tyler as simply handsome. He was heartbreakingly perfect, every part of him, save his twisted soul. If I had met him under any other circumstances, I likely would have been drawn to him immediately. I imagine it probably drove his wife crazy the way women must have hit on him. It always bothered me when it happened to Beck, and, sadly enough, he couldn’t hold a candle to the man beside me, at least not physically.
I stole a furtive glance, noting his eyes were surely his most interesting feature; that is when he wasn’t scowling. They were the clearest, brightest, most intense shade of blue I’d ever seen, and when he smiled, they kind of crinkled up at the corners, radiating out toward his temples, like rays of sunshine on a child’s drawing. It made him seem so approachable, something I found hard to swallow after the morning I’d spent with him. That, in itself, aggravated me to no end.
He had remarkable cheekbones, too, sculpted high and set widely apart with a slightly crooked nose between and a balanced brow above. Most women would kill for a bone structure like his, yet he carried it off with absolute masculinity. His jaw was strong with that scruffy, unkempt look many women found irresistible, something I was not altogether immune to. I swallowed hard at my musings, berating myself for being even remotely aware of his physical appearance. But I’d only seen him smile a few times, and then it was hardly more than a brittle smirk, so in all honesty, when he graced me with that last brilliant grin, I just couldn’t help but be affected, much to my horror.
But more than anything, it was his fragility that struck me. Most of the time, his expression had been one of rage, remorse, or even fear with his brow gathered in an intense furrow. Like a raptor on the hunt, it made him appear dangerous, which, of course he was, but it also made him seem vulnerable somehow, and flawed, though not in a physical way. It was more emotional, as if he’d been beaten down by life, taken every punch yet still tried to stand.
That look of vulnerability tugged inexplicably at my heart. It made the mother in me want to run my finger over the wrinkle in his brow, to smooth it away and erase whatever pain had caused it. I knew I shouldn’t, considering what he’d put me through, but for some reason, I felt very badly for this man. No one should have to endure what he had, and I realized that, though I was indeed his victim, I was also the victim of his tormentor every bit as much as he was. Erin Anderson had stung me twice over now. I would not let there be a third.
“Hello…Hannah? Did you hear me?” Tyler asked, interrupting my thoughts.
My face heated with embarrassment.
“You looked a million miles away. Did you even hear a word I said? We need cash first, then gas for your car. Maybe get some food for the road so we don’t have to stop again. How does all that sound to you...as the financier, I mean?”
Damn, there he was again with that smile. I ground my teeth together.
“Would you knock that off?” I huffed.
“What?”
“You know what. All that…smiling. You can’t charm me, you know. Do you do that on purpose, just to get your way?”
He looked indignant at first, with his mouth held open. But then he snapped it shut and looked away with a tiny smile playing at one corner of his mouth.
“No. Well…not for a long time, anyway. I didn’t need to with my wife.”
I snickered. “I bet.”
“What? Is there something wrong? You don’t like my smile?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “I find that…rather strange.”
“Strange? Why? Do women make a habit of falling at your feet when you grace them with your smile?”
“No, of course not, but—”
“Good, because I damn sure won’t.” I wagged my finger between us. “This whole attacker, victim thing we have going on kind of ruins it for me, you know.”
He shot me a heated look, another score for me. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. It’s just that…well…Jillian… She loved my smile. Said it was my best feature, her favorite. That and my crow’s feet,” he admitted with a shrug. “Not that I ever really understood that.”
His voice softened and his eyes took on a faraway look. I must admit, I preferred that look to the scowl he usually wore. He appeared content, maybe even a bit happy. I would have liked to preserve that look for a while longer, for my sanity’s sake at least. He seemed less threatening that way, not quite so scary, and my nerves were grateful for it.
“What else did she like about you?” I asked.
He turned my way, studying my face for a brief moment before he turned back with a small sigh. “She rather liked my accent.” He smiled to himself, just a touch. “I can’t tell you how many times she told me that American girls loved a guy with an accent.” He looked temporarily lost in his memories but then turned back to me. “Is that true? Do you American girls fancy men with accents?” He smiled, teasing me, but then he brought himself up short. “Oops, sorry. There I go again.” He chuckled at my expense.
I folded my arms over my chest and turned away. We both remained quiet for a while, caught up in our own thoughts, but my curiosity was as restless as I, and though I was almost afraid to ask, I figured he might enjoy sharing a little about his wife. He was calmer when he talked about her, and I found I was less afraid of him when he was calm.
“It’s obvious, you know,” I said.
“What is?”
“That you loved your wife.”
He nodded, pausing to swallow before he answered. “Yes, I did, very much. Still do.”
“And what did you like about her...your wife? What was she like?”
Tyler turned to me again, that furrow settling in a touch before he turned back to the road.
“Well, Jillian was…beautiful. Joyful and kind. Impulsive. And rather restless at times, I’m afraid.” He sighed as his shoulders relaxed. “She had such a fiery spirit, untamed. Opinionated, you might say, a bit of a hot-head. I suppose it got the best of her in the end.” Then all of a sudden, he looked sad, wistful, and full of self-reproach.
“How so?” I asked though I was concerned about the melancholy turn in his mood.
Another heavy sigh, like the weight of his loss pushed the breath from his body.
“Knowing her as well as I did, I should have realized she wouldn’t have been able to just let it go.” He shook his head at the memories.
I wasn’t sure what he was referring to. I didn’t know the whole story behind his wife’s death, and frankly, I was afraid to ask.
“I should have protected her better,” he continued. “She went to Nick when I refused to intervene with the authorities, but I warned him off. So she tried to take care of it on her own...and it cost Jillian her life.” He stole a quick glance at me again. “She paid for my failure, my mistake. That seems to be a pattern with me these days. A fact you know better than anyone, I suppose.” His lips pressed together.
“Yeah, well…hindsight can be a real bitch,” I mumbled. I was beginning to regret my line of questioning. I felt as if I ha
d intruded on something personal, something that was really none of my business, though I suppose he had made it so when he kicked in my door.
“You’d think I’d learn,” he whispered before falling silent again.
I felt bad that I had made him recall such unhappy memories. “Hey, I’m sorry. I never should have brought that up.”
He kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white as he grasped the wheel. “No, it’s all right. You have every right to ask.”
Silence settled over us again, more uncomfortable than ever. I turned away and nibbled on my fingernails, tearing the cuticles and making them bleed. One-by-one, I stuck them in my mouth to alleviate the self-inflicted pain. It was a good ten minutes before Tyler alerted me to a small strip mall just off the freeway.
“I’m going to pull up to that bank. We need money for gas and food.” He threw me a nervous glance. “We’ll need to pay for a place to crash tonight, as well.”
I hadn’t thought about where we would sleep for the night. All my muscles went rigid, and I stiffened in my seat. A quiver pulsed through my stomach when I considered whatever arrangements he might provide. I hadn’t considered many things before I allowed him to take me away. The gravity of my situation was weighing more heavily by the minute, and panic began to overwhelm me.
He parked the car and pulled up on the brake, turning the key until the engine stopped. I heard his voice as if from a distance, but my own felt choked off.
“Hannah?”
I couldn’t make myself get out of the car. I just sat there as I moved closer to a full-blown panic attack. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, and the flutter in my stomach felt more like a bird than a butterfly. My door opened suddenly from the outside. Tyler reached in and disengaged my seatbelt. I gasped and strained against him when he took hold of my arm and pulled me from the car.
“Come on, settle down. I need you to withdraw some cash. Grab your bag,” he ordered then reached past me and snatched my purse as I remained frozen. “Let’s go, Hannah. Please don’t make a scene. We don’t need the attention.”
He shoved my purse into my hands and guided me up to the ATM. I glanced up at him as I fumbled for my wallet, dropping it and my bank card to the ground. He reached down and retrieved everything then maneuvered me in front of the machine. He stood beside me with his hand at my elbow as I worked the keypad. My hands shook with anxiety, and I made several mistakes. Each time, I had to start over. And each time, Tyler sighed in impatience. I gave him the cash and waited for his orders. He directed me back to the car, opened the door, and nudged me back inside with an exasperated huff.
We drove down the street to the first gas station we saw. Tyler walked around to my side of the car, kneeling next to me in the open door. By his tone, I could tell he was more than a little annoyed at me.
“You need to relax,” he said.
Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
“Stay in the car while I fill it up. Do you want something from the market?” he asked as he gestured toward the little store centered in the gas station.
I gave my head a slight shake, but kept my eyes trained straight ahead.
“I’ll be right back.” Then he dipped his chin and raised his brow. “Please don’t do anything foolish.”
Even though he was pleasant enough, there was a modest threat to his words. I nodded, and he closed the door, but he remained standing in front of my window, contemplating me through the glass, his jaw ticking the whole time. When he swung away from fueling the car and walked toward the store, I turned to watch him. He looked back over his shoulder just as he pulled the door wide, making me spin back around. He was growing more tense and edgy, and I was the cause. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. It wouldn’t do me any good to make him uptight and angry. I jumped when he opened his door, climbed back in, and threw a bag of snacks in my lap.
“Ready?” he asked.
I could only respond with a nod.
He pulled onto the freeway again and reached into the bag for a bottle of water. “We’ll keep to the back roads, but I want to at least make it over the gorge into Oregon before we stop for the night.” When I simply nodded again, he sighed loudly. “All right, Hannah. What’s wrong? What’s changed all of a sudden? I can tell something’s bothering you. Just tell me what it is so we can deal with it up front.”
“Well…it’s just I’m…a bit…worried…about stopping...for the night.”
It was an awkward moment when he realized where my concern lay. At first, he pressed his lips together, but his impatience melted away before he turned to look me in the eye.
“You have nothing to worry about, Hannah. I promised I wouldn’t touch you again. You have my word.”
He stared at me in earnest and crossed his heart with his finger, but it was hard to ignore that part of me which feared him. I understood he felt only remorse for what he’d almost done, and I felt in my heart that he wouldn’t touch me in that way again, but it was still difficult to disregard my anxiety.
“You believe me, right?” he asked.
I nodded, trusting my heart on this one, and praying it wouldn’t let me down.
“Good,” he said, smiling to make me feel more at ease.
But even with his efforts, it didn’t take long for the strain to set in once again, increasing with each passing minute of silence. Small talk seemed out of place, but I could think of no other way to alleviate the disquiet. So I cleared my throat and searched for an appropriate topic.
“So, um…do you have any other family besides your brother, Nick?”
“No, actually, he’s all I have left. Our parents died a few years ago, along with our little sister, Kim,” he said, his shoulders sagging noticeably.
Holy cow! More dead relatives. It was like stepping into another tragedy. This poor bastard was surrounded by it, like a Shakespearian play.
“Oh…I’m sorry,” I replied. “God, I can’t seem to ask the right questions, can I?”
He chuckled slightly and reached over to pat my hand. I flinched at the contact, but if Tyler noticed it, he didn’t let on.
“No worries,” he said. “We all have our afflictions, right?” His faced screwed up a bit, but he continued. “My folks were wonderful people, and I miss them terribly. And except for the circumstances that took them from me, my memories of them are mostly happy.”
I was curious about what happened to them, but I wasn’t about to insert my foot into my mouth yet again by asking. I bit my lip to keep from doing so.
He peered over at me. “It’s okay. You can ask,” he said, seeming to read my very thoughts.
“All right then. What happened?”
“They were killed in a car accident a little over four years ago. Nick was driving, and though he was seriously hurt, he survived, so that would be the silver lining, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. God, your poor brother. How awful for him.”
“Yeah, I feel responsible for that one, as well. We’d planned for Nick to pick them all up at the airport. They were flying in from Melbourne; first time in three years. Nick called me early that morning, said he was too tired and hung-over to drive. He was always shirking his responsibilities, and I got angry about it. I wouldn’t let him back out, and he ended up falling asleep at the wheel.
“My mother and father died instantly, but Kim… Well, they told me she was brain dead, but it took me awhile to accept that and let her go. Eventually, I had to make that choice and turn off her life support. She passed quietly. Nick was seriously hurt and suffered through a very long and difficult recovery. Months of rehabilitation and physical therapy.”
“My God. That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, he got a raw deal. But then it got even worse. He became addicted to his pain meds, and then later to booze. It was the only way he seemed to be able to make it through the day. I couldn’t understand it back then, but I do now,” he said, pausing with his own thoughts. “Anyway, I put him in rehab, but it did
n’t work out. Things kind of fell apart between us after that.”
“Oh? How so?” I asked, surprised. They seemed pretty close, even in their criminal endeavors.
“Well, Nick got into trouble trying to finance his habits. He started running with a bad crowd. I tried to intervene, but all I got for the effort was a beating by his thug friends.”
“Wow. What did your brother do?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot. Told me to stay out of his business. My wife agreed, so I relented.”
“Oh, so you and Jillian were married for a while then?”
“No, we were together for several years, but we’d only recently married. Nick’s accident happened just after we first met. That’s part of the story, really. I was selfish. I had plans with her the morning my folks flew in, and I didn’t want to change them just because Nick was too busy getting drunk the night before.” He shook his head. “Story of my life.”
Okay, now would be a good time to change the subject. I didn’t particularly want to go down that road again. Everything I asked seemed booby-trapped with sentimental landmines. The subject of Jillian was different though. He liked talking about her. And though their story was bittersweet, he enjoyed sharing his time with her.
He told me how they met, and how he fell head over heels in love for the first time in his life. I heard about their wedding and honeymoon. But when he came to the part about Jillian’s pregnancy, he was too choked up to share much at all. And while I knew their story didn’t have a happy ending, I was astounded by how tragic it really was. Through it all, it was obvious how devoted and committed he had been to his wife, how much he loved her. They were like two halves making a whole; take one away and the other was incomplete.
“You know, as sad as your story is, Tyler, you were very lucky to have loved someone like that and know she loved you in return. A lot people never achieve that.”
He kept his eyes on the road and nodded gently. “Right. When you put it that way, I guess I was pretty lucky,” he admitted reluctantly. “You know, you’d make a good shrink.” He glanced back over with a crooked smile. “Enough about me now. What about you?”
The Mistaken Page 19
