by Molly Wens
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 21
She was in the circle of his arms as the tempest of her life passed from her consciousness. It was as if she had just run through a door, out of the raging wind, taking shelter from the storm. His big hands cradled her head against his chest, stroking down her spine as she melted against him. His presence surrounded her, filling her senses with nothing but him, both oblivious that they blocked the doorway of the building or that people were staring.
Then his lips were at her temple, raining feathery kisses along her brow as she lifted her hands to touch his face. She ran the pads of her fingers over the coarse scars on his cheek and beyond, to slide through the silky black strands of his hair. His arms tightened around her frame, lifting her feet from the floor, crushing her against him. He lowered his head, watching her pale face as his lips hovered only a sigh away from hers. She could feel his breath on her skin as his large hand moved up, cupping the back of her head.
His mouth touched hers at long last, in a kiss that blazed a path through her. Blood roared in her ears, her heart pounding against her ribs in joyous crescendo. To be with him again, touching him and holding him pushed all the uncertainty of the past weeks away, leaving only this moment in this man's arms. She gave herself over to the spell that wove around them, returning his kiss with an eagerness born of deep need.
The spell was broken with the loud thump of a cardboard box against a hard surface, snapping Carissa out of her trance. “I'll be damned!” a voice boomed from behind her.
The kiss ended; Carissa slid down Bryce's body until she was on her own feet again. She turned to see Chris Davidson standing at the reception desk, that newsman's leer on his face. Her friend had disappeared again, replaced by the hard-nosed journalist that he was. He approached, his hand extended, a thousand questions written in his expression.
"You have to be Bryce Matheney. I'm Chris Davidson, the news director here. It's really great to meet you,” Chris said, reaching for his hand. “I want to thank you for what you did. It was a remarkable thing you did, saving Carissa."
Carissa groaned, rolling her eyes upward, knowing what was going through Davidson's mind. She watched in irritation as Bryce shook the man's hand before introducing another man that appeared from behind. The man bore a striking resemblance to the scarred mountain man, standing just a fraction of an inch shorter with lighter hair and the signs of age only making a brief appearance on his face. His most striking feature was his eyes that seemed to study her with their shocking blue gaze.
"Cari,” came Bryce's deep, masculine timbre as he slipped his palms down her arms to take her hands gently into his. “This is my father, Donnan."
Feeling as if she were trapped somewhere in the twilight zone, she looked from Bryce's handsome face to that of his father's. She reached out a hand, intending to shake his, only to have the man grab her in a bone-crushing hug.
"Finally,” his voice roared. “I finally get to meet and thank the woman who pulled my son off that mountain. Thank you for giving him back to me."
When he finally released her, she felt as if she had been caught in a vise, causing her to gasp for wind. The man beamed at her and she knew she liked him immediately. He was warm, with a kind face that made her feel appreciated. She opened her mouth to speak only to be cut off by Chris's clipped, businesslike tones.
"Mr. Matheney,” he said, specifying after both men looked his direction, “Bryce. I'd really like to talk to you if you have a few minutes. We have a lot of questions that you could answer for us."
"No!” Carissa fairly screeched. “Step back, Chris. You're not going to air my business like yesterday's dirty underwear. Just leave it alone."
Undaunted, the news director continued his pitch, “As you may know, Carissa's in a lot of trouble here. I think that you could help clear this whole mess up."
She could see a newsman's lust gleaming in Chris’ eyes. He was all but drooling over what it would mean for his department if he could nail the exclusive interview of Bryce Matheney, the man at the heart of the scandal.
"I want to do whatever I can to help her, but I'm not sure about this,” Bryce answered.
"I promise you that we would handle it with the utmost sensitivity,” Davidson assured him. “You would get the chance to tell it like it is, and you won't be taken out of context."
Bryce ran a hand thoughtfully down his face, touching lightly on the hated scars. “Do you really think this would help?"
Looking incredulously from the face of one man to the other, Carissa was incensed, yelling in frustration, “Am I not even here? I won't be discussed like I'm not even in the room. I don't want any part of this on the evening news—local or otherwise. Is that clear?"
When Davidson started to speak again, Bryce held up his hand and turned to her. He put his hands gently on her arms, looking her in the eye. “Maybe you should tell your side of it, Cari. Your ex is really working you over in the media. You might have to take a stand."
She could not believe what he was saying. That Bryce, of all people, would want to go on television, speak to the media, was so far outside the realm of understanding that she laughed. “I can't believe what I'm hearing,” she sneered. “It's my stand to take and I'll take it in court."
She watched as his face darkened; saw the irritation that sparked in his eyes. “Not,” he said softly, “as long as you are carrying my kid. I want my son or daughter born safe, not caught up in some sordid mess."
Her eyebrows shot up, dropping again as her eyes narrowed. “Is that why you're here? Because you want your kid?” she scoffed.
His eyes darkening and his face growing rigid, he tightened his grip on her upper arms. “Of course. Did you think I would just let my kid grow up without a father? I thought that's what you wanted too. Isn't that why you left me that spiteful note?"
"Silly me, I almost thought you were here because you gave a damn about me. I've got news for you, the kid's not yours, it's mine. You threw me away, remember?” She paused for breath, inhaling deeply before rushing on. “Hey, I know. Why don't you just join John in court on Monday? That way the two of you can finish picking over my bones all at once. He can take Sheanna and Zane away from me, and you can take this one.
"Then the two of you can pat each other on the back and congratulate yourselves on what a fine job you did of killing me. Go ahead. And then Chris can have his department cover the whole debacle. If not, I'm sure the tabloids will pay you big money for the story. Probably enough money to keep you and the baby hidden up there on that mountain for a long time."
The telltale muscle in Bryce's scarred jaw began to twitch, signaling the fury that he was keeping at bay. “That's enough, Carissa,” he said in that menacing tone that she remembered so well.
"You know what? You're absolutely right. It is enough,” she ground out as she jerked her arms free of his grasp. Taking a step, she nearly tripped over the forgotten box on the floor. She gave it a vicious kick, sending the box and its contents slamming against the lobby wall before stalking out of the building to her waiting car.
The Matheneys followed her into the parking lot—Bryce calling her name—with Davidson hot on the men's heels. Carissa pulled the car keys, which Chris had returned to her earlier, from her jacket pocket as she reached the door. It only took a moment for her to gun the engine to life and leave the parking lot, screeching away from the men as they tried to stop her.
In her ten-minute drive home, she went through a whole range of emotions. The rage she was feeling ebbed, making room for the pain of realizing Bryce was only there for his child—her child—and did not really care about her. Her lips were still throbbing from the kiss he had given her, fueling the pure sexual desire he had inspired with that simple touch. Sadness followed, accompanied by the empty loneliness of heartbreak that threatened to swallow her whole. Then there was the sense of loss and impending doom, stemming from her new status as unemployed. Finally, anger flared again w
hen she recognized there was nothing she could do to change it. By the time she reached her house, she was bordering on mental exhaustion.
Alice, a bright smile gracing her lips, greeted Carissa at the door. “Hi, Honey. How did the meeting go?” she asked cheerily.
Carissa's glassy eyes looked past the woman as if she were invisible. Without acknowledging the question, she walked by, her legs moving slowly, her posture, drooping. Her only objective was bed, to fling herself upon the mattress, close her eyes and never open them again. She felt broken and disconnected from life.
There was a vague awareness, somewhere near the corners of her consciousness, that someone was speaking, but she paid the words no mind. Jolting her from her stupor, a hand took hold of her arm, shaking her, as that far-away voice sharply snatched at her attention.
"Carissa Jane!"
She turned slowly, her blurry eyes coming into focus upon the face of her mother as the older woman eyed her with concern, seeming to expect something from her. Her own voice sounded from a distance, “Hmm? What, Mom?"
"I asked how your meeting went. Are you all right, dear? You look ill.” Alice reached out a hand, as only a mother would do, to touch her face, checking her temperature.
"I'm all right,” she answered softly. Then her face contorted into a painful frown. “I'm really tired."
Her mother eyed her skeptically but decided not to pursue the question of her daughter's health. “What happened with your boss?” she asked, the concern on her face turning to suspicion.
"Oh, that. Um, well, he fired me,” Carissa stated softly before continuing her ambling gait down the hall. In her room at last, she crawled onto the bed, curling her numb body into a tight ball.
"Carissa?” Alice said uncertainly. Something was terribly wrong, and it was more than just the loss of her job. The girl was in shock, her skin so pale as to be almost translucent. “Carissa, what happened to you?” There was no answer from her daughter, no acknowledgement of any kind. “Carissa. Answer me."
Carissa's glazed eyes slowly focused on Alice again as she turned her head only slightly. “I ... I think...” she could not find the words to tell her mother what had just happened. Her body began to tremble as she tried to sit up, her mother rushing to her aid.
"You're freezing!” Alice exclaimed as she touched her daughter's face again. She pulled the bedspread around her child as she pushed her back down against the pillow. “We have to get you warmed up, and fast.” She began to rub briskly at Carissa's arms and legs in an effort to stimulate her circulation.
"Mama,” the stricken woman whispered. “Bryce found me."
Alice froze, her hands lying still against her daughter's calf. “What do you mean, he found you? Is he in Springfield? Where is he?"
Carissa shrugged slightly against the bedding, sorrow surfacing in her glassy eyes. “I don't know. I left him standing in the parking lot at the station."
"Why? What happened?"
Carissa's whisper became even softer. “He doesn't want me."
"Don't be silly. If he didn't want you, why would he be here?"
"The baby,” was all the younger woman could manage before the tidal wave of emotions that had swamped her came to the surface. A broken sob forced its way out of her throat as her body began to shake in earnest. The horror of the past hour and a half—her confrontation with Mavis, the loss of her career, seeing Bryce, knowing the only reason he had come was not because he loved her or wanted her—came out in a torrent of anguished weeping. She would lose her children, her hope and everything that she had fought so hard to keep. She would lose it all, have no reason for going on, and John, the hyena, would be standing in the shadows, waiting for her downfall.
"We'll just see about that,” her mother hissed with a venom that was uncharacteristic.
* * * *
"God-damn-it!” Bryce swore as he watched Carissa leave the parking lot. “Give me the keys, Dad,” he demanded, holding his open hand out to his father.
Donnan folded his arms across his chest, a stern admonition narrowing his eyes. “Nothin’ doin', son. You leave that girl be. She needs time to calm down."
Bryce pulled his gaze from the vehicle that was growing quickly smaller on the horizon to fix his father with a chilling glare. “I have to go after her. She thinks ... I have to tell her, dammit."
"Seems to me that you missed that opportunity. Just calm down. We'll figure something out.” When his son did not relax his stance, Donnan added, “Bryce, you go after her now and there's liable to be an accident. She's in a real snit and driving like a bat out of hell. If she sees you coming up behind her, she's likely to loose control of her car."
Those words took the wind out of Bryce's sails. Dropping his hand, he turned again to look in the direction down which her car had disappeared. He had found her, had held her in his arms, had kissed her lips and felt her kiss him back. She had looked at him with so much emotion in her green eyes that they fairly danced. If he had just kept his damned mouth shut, she would still be there, pressed against him.
"I can't take this, Pop,” Bryce said, shaken by the ugly turn the situation had taken.
"I know, son. Just give it a little time."
"Carissa's had a very bad day, gentlemen,” the voice of the forgotten news director interrupted. “She was already pretty upset when you got here. Why don't you come in and I'll tell you all about it. It concerns you, Bryce."
The giant turned, his steely eyes trained on Davidson's. “What do you mean by that? What happened?"
Chris held the door open, waiting for the two big men to enter. When they made no effort to move, he pasted on his most sincere smile. “There's a conference room around the corner. We can go in there and I'll tell you."
The Matheney men followed Davidson, Bryce feeling less than trusting toward the guy as they entered the room. Chris closed the door, motioning for them to take a seat each before pulling out a chair for himself. He folded his hands on the table and turned to face Bryce.
"Have you seen the national reports about Carissa and the new allegations and rumors surrounding her time in Wyoming?” He waited for Bryce's curt nod before continuing. “Carissa has been on short-term leave. When the story broke, our station manager took the opportunity to use her employment contract, the morals clause in her contract, to fire her. The two have never seen eye to eye, and well, this was the clincher."
Bryce felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. His eyes never left Davidson's face as the truth of her situation came to light. Now there were two men in this world that he wanted to beat to within an inch of their lives. “Does that son-of-a-bitch know what this means for her?” his voice growled, sounding like a savage animal.
"Yes, I'm sure he does,” Chris answered, his gaze unflinching. “I'm not going to lie to you. I want your story. It would be a hell of a coupe for my news team, but I have another interest in this, as well. CJ is my friend. She's a good person who has come through a lot. I respect her and I'm genuinely fond of her. If I'd had a daughter, I would've wanted her to be Carissa.
"She's been dealt a rough hand here and I'm not sure she has enough left to play it. Only two people know what really happened on that mountain and she's not talking. That leaves you. If you're willing, Bryce, you could tell the story, let people know the truth."
Bryce leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee and affecting a posture of relaxed confidence. It amazed him how easy it was to fall back into the attitude of the self-assured advisor after so many years away from the business of high finance. “I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Davidson, so I'll return the favor. I don't like the media. I don't like reporters. You guys have fucked me before. What makes you think I'd trust you enough to sit in front of one of your cameras?"
"Because, as I told you, I have a vested interest. She's my friend and I hate to see this happen to her. She was fired because of the publicity she has gotten, or more to the point, the publicity surrounding her affair with
you.
"The Teton County sheriff has reopened the investigation into the deaths of Kyle Pritchert and Bert Adams because of what John James has been accusing her of. I have to tell you, it doesn't look good for her. I know she didn't do anything wrong. She doesn't have it in her. You were there and you can clear it all up."
Bryce held his hands up, the palms pressed together, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He studied the man in front of him with an unwavering gaze, silently measuring his integrity. “If Carissa refuses to talk to you then I would be breaching her confidence by stepping forward,” he stated plainly. “Why should I do that?"
Chris was beginning to betray a small amount of the frustration he was feeling. Bryce could see it on his face as he took a deep breath to steady his mind. He was not sure that he could trust the newsman completely, but he could easily see that Davidson was concerned for Carissa. That was enough for Bryce but he wanted to hear the man's answers.
"Because, as much as I care about her, CJ is the most stubborn and independent woman I have ever known. She refuses to accept help and she won't step forward to defend herself. Someone has to do something, dammit."
Bryce turned his head, looking at his father, the two locking eyes and exchanging silent signals. He looked at Chris again. “And what about James? Will you interview him, too?"
Chris met his gaze squarely. “Yes, if he'll do it. I think that once we get him in front of a camera, the whole world will see how crazy he is. You know about him, don't you, that he has a mental illness?"
Bryce nodded. “As I understand it, the illness is controlled with medication."
"He may think it is but the bastard's just plain nuts. He's unpredictable and full of strange ideas. He'll want to rebut as soon as he sees you. He's that type. How CJ put up with him all those years, I'll never know. She ought to be canonized."
