“I’ve got it,” he said sharply. He put a hand on the top of the wire fence, uncaring that it spiked through his skin. Blood dribbled down the wire, onto the dust beneath. He pushed forward unrelentingly.
The older woman had a big shotgun.
Fear tore through Willow as she aimed it at Matt, but still he didn’t stop.
His fearlessness seemed to cause the woman a beat of hesitation, and that was all Matt needed. He lunged for the gun and captured it just as she fired a shot.
Annabeth and Willow screamed in unison. “Annabeth! Come here now,” Willow cried, her eyes glued to Matt.
But he was fine.
He wasn’t hurt. He tossed the gun far enough away that the woman couldn’t reach it, and wrapped her in an unyielding hold, clamping her arms to her side. “Take the child to the car,” he called to Willow, his tone solid like cement.
Willow was shaking all over. As Annabeth reached the fence, Willow put her hands around her slender waist and lifted her. She ran and ran, and didn’t stop until they’d reached the luxury car. She buckled Annabeth into the back seat and then, in anguish, turned towards the house. She had to help Matt.
“Stay here,” she said firmly. But the girl was terrified. With a moan, Willow ran a hand over Annabeth’s cropped hair. “You’re going to be okay, sweetie. The police are coming, and your mommy is waiting for you.” She kissed Annabeth’s hair, and then reached for her handbag. “Drink this. Are you hungry?”
Annabeth, her eyes round like saucers, shook her head.
“I have to go and check on my friend,” Willow said urgently. “But I’m going to lock the doors. I want you to crouch down, and stay out of sight, until I get back. Okay?”
“Okay. Please come back though.” Her sweet voice was hoarse, her eyes wet now with tears.
“I will, darling.” She slammed the door shut and locked the car, then ran back into the house. She cut through the darkened hallway, taking note as she passed blurry photos of a child. She reached the pool, and found that Matt had used an old rope to tie the woman to the porch railing.
He turned to look at Willow, his expression startled.
“Remind me never to doubt you again.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I don’t know how you two did it,” Isaac had tears in his eyes; his handsome face was crumpled with emotion.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Matt said, impatient with the nurse who was bandaging his gashed hand.
“I mean, a beanie and a pink shirt?”
Willow grinned. “I guess plotting all those adventure stories paid off, huh?”
Isaac laughed. “You better believe it. I’ll be surprised if the State doesn’t honour you with an award.”
“Don’t want it,” Willow said seriously. “I’m just so happy that she’s safe. That she’s been found.”
“What about the woman?” Matt asked, pulling his hand back to his side, shooting the nurse a brief look of gratitude.
Isaac looked over his shoulder to make sure none of the hospital staff were near enough to hear him speak. “I haven’t formally interviewed her yet, but I suspect she’ll end up in a hospital rather than prison.”
“Hospital?”
“Yeah. She’s not all there. Upstairs. You know. Her daughter died five years ago. Car accident. She looked a lot like Annabeth. The working theory is that she saw Annabeth and actually thought she’d found her own daughter, Rachel.”
“That’s just so, so tragic,” Willow whispered.
Isaac nodded. “Annabeth’s parents want to meet you two. You okay with that?”
Willow nodded, and followed him into a brightly lit room. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of praise and compliments. By the end of it, she was bone-weary.
There were so many people to speak to; everyone wanted to shake their hands and to comprehend just how they’d found the girl everyone was looking for. But time was ticking, and every moment that passed brought her closer and closer to the inevitability she was dreading.
Matt had said he was leaving.
He was going to go.
And she would be left, without him.
Her life, which had always felt fine and full and interesting, now seemed to loom before her like a barren, cavernous space that she must cross. The prospect of day after day in a world without Matt with her loomed large and cold.
But the inevitability was upon her.
He was leaving. And soon.
* * *
“It’s time, isn’t it?”
Willow couldn’t look at him. She knew that one glimpse of his handsome face would cause her to break into tears. The trauma and the emotion of the last twenty four hours were too much to bear. The desperation first of Matt’s revelation: that he was returning to Manhattan, followed swiftly by the statistically improbable discovery of Annabeth, and all the media hubbub that had followed. And finally, this moment. This farewell.
“I’ve waited as long as I can. The meeting’s this afternoon. I have to go, Willow.” He crouched down on his haunches, bringing his face level with hers. He willed her to look at him, but still, she stared at the grass beneath them.
“So that’s it,” she said quietly, closing her eyes. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, but hot tears squeezed out of her eyes now and fell unchecked down her face.
“Oh, baby.” He kneeled up and kissed her cheek, tasting her salty sadness and wishing he could remove that pain. “Come with me.”
“No.” She shook her head, and her lower lip trembled with emotion. “My life is here.” Though mentally she wondered, what life? Despite her best intentions, she’d become a weak, dependent limpet.
A million and one things ran through his mind. But none of them sufficiently explained how he felt. He just knew that walking away from Willow felt all kinds of wrong. He wanted her to come with him. Or he wanted her to wait for him to come back. He didn’t know what he wanted. He kissed her softly on the lips and stood, before the kiss could become anything deeper.
I love you, she thought, as he walked away. And she was glad, days later, that she hadn’t said it. Because he didn’t love her. How could he? Not if he was prepared to leave her.
He had liked her and desired her, but that was it.
And as with Ashton, Willow had to pick up the pieces of her life and move forward any way she could.
Only this was so much worse than with Ashton.
Because she realised now she’d never loved him. Not like this. With Matt, her whole body, soul, spirit and mind had been co-opted. She’d lost the ability to think of herself as a single unit. She saw herself as his match; his partner; his complementing being. And he’d walked away from her.
Days after he’d strode purposefully away from what they’d shared, Willow stared at the pregnancy test with an ache deep in her gut.
It was a deep twist of cruelty that fate had conspired to draw them together permanently, when Matt had found it so easy to separate their lives. He’d cut the cord of what they’d shared as though it meant nothing. And unbeknownst to both of them, a tiny little life form had clung to the fabrics of what they’d been.
“Jeez, Willow, I thought you might have passed out. I’ve been knocking and knocking and you didn’t say anything.”
Willow continued to stare at the two accusing lines of the pregnancy test. Bright and unmistakable, they judged her for that first, heady night of passion, when precautions had been the last thing on either of their minds.
“Are you okay?”
Anna’s voice seemed to be coming to Willow from very far away. Willow turned slowly, the test heavy in her hands, as she stared at her best friend.
“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Anna’s eyes dropped lower, to the tell-tale white stick. Anna had seen enough of them to recognise it instantly. She blanched, visibly, but Willow was too shell-shocked to notice.
“Willow? Are you… are you pregnant?” She reached over and pulled the test from Willow’s hands. She stared first a
t the two lines, and then at Willow, the hurt betrayal in her features unmistakable.
“I guess so.” Willow let out a strangled cackle, though it wasn’t at all funny. She reached behind her, for support, and found the bench. She propped her back against it, and tried to comprehend what this meant.
“I’m pregnant.”
“But… how? Who? I mean, how?”
Willow shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You’re not even seeing anyone. Oh my God, did you have dream sex and get a baby?” Anna’s own barren womb sent her emotions rioting in all the wrong directions. “How could you do this to me?”
Willow’s dark eyes widened. “I… Oh, Anna…” She reached for her friend, but Anna jumped out of her reach. The blonde threw the pregnancy test across the kitchen and ran down the hallway.
“Don’t touch me!” She screamed over her shoulder. “I never want to see you again!” She sobbed, as she slammed the front door emphatically behind her.
As if Willow didn’t feel bad enough, a wave of guilt crashed through her. She and Matt had been very careful after that first night. Meaning it had taken hardly any trying at all for them to fall pregnant. As opposed to Isaac and Anna who’d been jumping through conception hoops without success for years.
Willow was in a state of total shock, but Anna’s reaction punctuated her own fog of emotions. She picked up her phone and dialled Isaac’s number.
“Well, if it isn’t the lady of the hour.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Isaac, you need to come home.”
“What is it, Willow?” He immediately switched his tone, from jocular to serious.
“It’s Anna.”
“What’s happened?” His tone was rushed; he was out of his chair and moving before he’d voiced the question.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?” He stopped walking and stared at the bright white wall of his office. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. And I really don’t want to talk about that. But Anna just walked in a second after I’d done the test. She saw it. She’s… devastated.”
He nodded. “I’m coming home. Willow, this isn’t your problem. It’s not your fault. You have every right to live your life.”
“Thanks, Isaac.” She disconnected the call and moved, blindly, towards her sofa. She sunk into it and stared out of the window, towards her hot tub.
She sat there until the daylight faded to night. There were too many clouds that night for stars. And the clouds perfectly echoed how she felt. The cruellest irony of all was loving a man who didn’t love her back. Far worse though was the knowledge that they’d made a life together.
She put a hand over her stomach, feeling the burgeoning life inside her with an ache of emotion.
“I will love you,” she whispered into her dark home, towards her still-flat stomach. “You are mine.”
She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes.
When she awoke, it was morning, and the events of the previous day came back to her as though they were a dream. For the briefest moment she almost thought they were. Until she saw the pregnancy test, lying against the wall where Anna had flung it.
This was no dream. Not even a nightmare. This was real life.
She sucked in a deep breath and made a split-second decision.
She had to tell him.
Matt had walked away from her, but he still deserved to know.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Miss St Clare, but Mr McCain is only available by appointment.”
Willow looked at the beautiful red head with an expression of cool disdain. She hadn’t taken two flights across the country, and almost come to an early death at the hands of a possessed cab driver hooning through Manhattan as though it were a race-track, to be turned away by a snooty administrative assistant.
“Then I will make an appointment,” she ground out, balling her hands into fists by her side and refusing to be disheartened. This was far too important to fail. “When will Mr McCain be free?”
The red head shot Willow a withering glance before consulting her MacBook. “The nineteenth of September.”
Willow couldn’t help the splutter that crossed her lips. “That’s a month away.”
Red shrugged coldly. “As I said, he’s a busy man.”
“Yes, I understand that.” Willow lifted her hands to the highly sheened timber bench. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you let Mr McCain know that Willow St Clare is here to see him? If he can’t free up five minutes for me, I’ll leave immediately. Otherwise you’re going to be stuck with me staring at you all day.”
The receptionist was unimpressed. “I can’t bother him with every person who wanders in here wanting an appointment.”
“Believe me, I’m not every person,” Willow responded archly. “Pick up the phone and tell him I’m here, or I suspect you’ll find yourself out of a job.”
The red head, whether convinced by Willow or not, evidently found something in Willow’s nature that demanded obedience. She picked up the phone and waited for it to connect.
Matt was brooding. The view of Manhattan was spectacular, but he barely noticed it. He glared out at the cluster of high-rises, wondering what he ever saw in the view. Surely it was nothing compared to the spectacular majesty of the ocean. And Willow.
He closed his eyes as her face drifted before him. Not the way she’d been on that final encounter. No. He always remembered her as happy. The smile that had spread from ear to ear, washing her skin with pleasure. He groaned as the phone continued to hound him. All day, he’d had meeting after meeting, and all he’d wanted was to call Willow and beg her to reconsider. To come to Manhattan.
“What is it, Jane?” He asked impatiently.
“I’m sorry to bother you sir, but there’s a woman here to see you.”
“Tell him my name,” he heard the disembodied insistence through the handset. And he knew the voice. He placed his handset down and strode across his palatial office. He pulled the door inwards, and stared across the ostentatious reception area.
And there she was.
Willow.
In a black dress, her face pale, her hair swept into a high bun. His gut clenched with desire and fierce, undeniable need.
But when her eyes met his, he knew something was terribly wrong. She didn’t smile at him. She looked at him as though he was an exam she had to pass. With pure dread and reluctance.
He wanted to run across the tiles and pull her into his arms, but the air of coldness she was communicating subdued him. It reminded him of that first day they’d met, when she’d been so beautifully untouchable.
“Willow?” With a monumental effort, he got himself under control. “What are you doing here?”
Willow stared at him as though she were drowning and he was her life raft. In the week since she’d last seen him, he’d shed his relaxed, outdoorsy appeal. Oh, he was still impossibly attractive. But now, he wore a suit that screamed ‘corporate’. Dark grey, it moulded to his muscular frame like a second skin. His blonde hair was shorter, and any hint of stubble had been removed from his face, leaving just a square jaw and a tan that hinted of a summer spent under the sun.
“I need to speak to you. It won’t take long. Do you have a moment?”
Something was different about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she seemed frail. Weak. His gut turned over as he wondered, briefly, if his actions had caused her to feel that way.
“Of course,” he murmured. “Jane, clear my afternoon. I need to speak to Miss St Clare urgently.”
He put an arm around Willow’s waist and guided her away from his office, towards the bank of elevators. Once they were out of the surprised assistant’s line of sight, Willow stepped out of the circle of his arms.
She couldn’t let him touch her. The pain was too much to bear.
Matt took the hint, but he felt a spike of annoyance. Damn it, what did she want? Surely she’d come to Manhatt
an because she’d reconsidered. Because she wanted to be with him.
The elevator doors opened into an underground car park.
“Matt, where are we?”
“In the basement,” he muttered, pressing a button in his pocket. A car made a muted beeping sound and the headlights flicked to life. This was a far cry from the Dodge he’d driven in Haymarket Bay. The Aston Martin was black, with darkly tinted windows. He held the door open for her and stepped backwards, waiting for her to slide into the car.
“I need to talk to you.”
“And I need to talk to you,” he said firmly. “But not here. Get in.”
She eased herself into the car. It smelled of him, and the hint of his fragrance overpowered the last vestige of hesitation she had.
Being back in his world was heaven, and though she knew it wouldn’t last, she was going to enjoy it for a few moments.
He drove this car through the streets of Manhattan as expertly as he’d negotiated the enormous Dodge through the deserted country tracks of Haymarket.
Willow sat beside him, silent. But her tension seemed to escalate with every wordless moment that passed. “Matt, where are we going?” She asked with an anguished cry, finally, when she thought her nerves were going to snap.
He swerved the car out of traffic, into yet another undercover basement. “My place.”
“I thought your wife got your apartment,” she said quietly.
“I bought another.” He cut the engine, and came around to Willow’s door. He opened it before she could, and when she stepped out, he put his hands on her waist. His pale blue eyes sought hers, the question in them impossible to miss. “I have been dreaming of seeing you for so long.”
She closed her eyes. Whatever he felt for her was about to be seriously shaken to the core. “I’m not here to reignite our relationship,” she whispered huskily.
A frown flickered across Matt’s face. “Come upstairs and you can tell me exactly why you are here then.”
She nodded, and felt fear and anxiety bubble through her.
Matt’s apartment, though obviously new to his ownership, was unmistakably expensive and prestigious. Though she’d managed to amass a fair income from her popular books, she could never dream of aspiring to the kind of wealth that made upper East side penthouses a reality. “Just a simple place to hang your hat?”
Tempted by the Billionaire: A Hometown Hero Series Novel Page 11
