Worth Dying For

by Beverly Barton

  The woman was way out of his league. Despite years of polishing his rough edges and achieving a degree of sophistication, he didn’t come close to being the kind of man Tessa Westbrook deserved.

  What difference does that make? He sure as hell hadn’t deserved Amy Smith, but she’d been his—body and soul. Amy had been way too good for the wiseass, rowdy kid he’d been back then, but she’d loved him anyway. And he’d loved her. God, how he’d loved her.

  Dante kept his place in the corner of the room, determined to be as inconspicuous as possible. He was here by invitation only. His job was to watch, listen and keep his mouth shut. To simply stand by in case he was needed. Any fantasies he had about Tessa would have to remain just that—fantasies. The woman’s life was already complicated enough. The last thing she needed was an affair that would complicate things even further.

  The moment he entered the parlor, G.W.’s huge presence filled the room, which was why it took Dante a good sixty seconds before he noticed the man who’d come in with the lord of the manor. Dr. Arthur Barrett, Dante assumed. A man of medium height and build, with thick gray hair and a neat mustache. He wore dress khakis and a blue button-down shirt. He didn’t look like a psychiatrist paying a house call, he looked more like a friendly uncle who’d come to spend the day.

  “Leslie Anne, this is Dr. Barrett,” G.W. said. “He was your mother’s therapist for many years.”

  Leslie glared at the doctor.

  “Arthur is here to help us.” G.W. glanced at Tessa.

  “Years ago, Dr. Barrett helped me deal with what had happened to me.” Tessa reached for Leslie Anne’s hand, but her daughter scooted away from her, all the way to the other end of the sofa. “He can help you, too, if you’ll let him.”

  “Can he change my DNA?” Leslie Anne asked. “Can he wave a magic wand and remove all of Eddie Jay Nealy’s genes from my body?”

  Tessa sighed.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a magic wand,” Arthur Barrett said, his voice gentle and kind. “I can’t work miracles, but I am here to help you.”

  “Sure, doc. Help away.” Leslie Anne turned to Tessa. “But first I want to hear the truth from you. And don’t leave out anything. I think I have a right to know everything from the moment you were kidnapped—”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you everything,” Tessa said. “I can only tell you what I remember.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Leslie Anne glowered at her mother.

  “Your mother has no memory of her kidnapping or…the rape,” G.W. said. “And thank God she doesn’t.”

  “I don’t understand.” Leslie Anne looked toward Dante. “Do you believe she can’t remember, or is she lying to me again?”

  Dante hadn’t wanted to be involved at all, certainly not this soon. He had planned on staying completely in the background, there only for moral support. “Yes, I believe her. Often a victim of a vicious attack has what’s referred to as hysterical amnesia where his or her mind blocks out the horrible memory. It’s a self-protective mechanism.” He glanced at Arthur Barrett. “Am I right, Dr. Barrett?”

  “Yes,” the doctor replied. “Although technically Tessa’s amnesia involved more than—”

  “Anybody would have blocked out such a terrible thing,” G.W. interrupted. “You should be glad your mother can’t remember. And you shouldn’t accuse her of lying to you. You’ve asked her for the truth and she’ll tell you the truth.”

  Dante wondered why G.W. had stopped Dr. Barrett midsentence. Was the old man afraid the doctor might expose some information that G.W. wanted kept under wraps? If so, what was it? And why keep it a secret?

  “All right. I’ll buy that you don’t remember being kidnapped and raped. So, just what do you remember?” Leslie Anne watched Tessa like a hawk, as if she thought she could determine whether her mother was telling her the truth simply by looking at her face, by gazing into her eyes.

  “I remember waking up in the hospital, in Louisiana.” Tessa sucked in a deep breath. “At least the nurses told me I was in Louisiana. I didn’t have any idea where I was or what had happened to me. And even now, my memories of those first few days after I was found are rather blurry. I think a policeman or maybe one of the doctors told me what had happened to me. And they told me that my father was waiting to see me.”

  “The sheriff told you,” G.W. said. “Sheriff Wadkins.”

  “I remember your grandfather coming in to see me and I didn’t recognize him. He told me who he was and that he was going to take care of me and that everything would be all right.”

  Dante not only heard and saw the pain Tessa was experiencing, but he felt her agony at having to relive the trauma she had no doubt worked so hard to put in the past. How was it that he sensed Tessa’s emotions, that he hurt for her, that he cared so deeply?

  Because you can’t separate Tessa and what happened to her from Amy, that’s why, he told himself. You’ve gotten the two women all mixed up in your mind.

  “Granddaddy didn’t know you were pregnant, did he?” Leslie Anne asked.

  Tessa shook her head. “No one knew. Not then. Not until several weeks later, after Daddy brought me back to Mississippi.”

  “Did you hate me when you found out? Did you want to get rid of me?” Leslie Anne’s eyes widened into big circles of despair.

  God in heaven, lie to her if you have to, Dante thought. Whatever you do, don’t tell this child that you ever hated her or wanted her dead.

  “I—I didn’t hate you,” Tessa said, her voice very quite, little more than a whisper. “I considered an abortion, but I didn’t have one. I couldn’t. I—I wanted you.”

  Dante knew Tessa was lying. If Anne Leslie Westbrook hadn’t begged her daughter not to abort the child she carried, Tessa would have gotten rid of her rapist’s baby. But that was one truth Leslie Anne didn’t need to know.

  “You’re lying!” Leslie Anne jumped up and stood over Tessa, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You couldn’t have possibly wanted me.”

  “Don’t do this to your mother!” G.W. shouted, his voice quivering. Not with rage, but with fear and pain.

  “No, Daddy, leave her alone,” Tessa said. “She’s right.” Tessa rose to her feet and faced her daughter. “I did not want to be pregnant by the man who had raped me. Your grandfather and I decided I’d have an abortion, but your grandmother accidentally found out I was pregnant and because she didn’t know about the rape, she begged me not to abort my baby.”

  Leslie Anne wrapped her arms around herself in an apparent effort to steady her trembling body. “So you did hate me, didn’t you? You hated me and didn’t want me.”

  When Tessa tried to touch Leslie Anne, she drew back and glared at her mother.

  Tessa’s hands remained in front of her, reaching out in a pleading gesture. “After you were born, the minute the nurse placed you in my arms, I felt this overwhelming maternal love. And I realized that I did love you. I always loved you—the whole nine months I carried you. Because you were my baby. Mine. And no one else’s.”

  Leslie Anne gulped down sobs, then wiped her face with her fingertips. “Did you still love me later on, after you brought me home from the hospital?” She glared at G.W. “What about you, Granddaddy—did you love me right from the beginning, too, or did you still hate me after I was born?”

  “God, what a question!” G.W. looked everywhere but at his granddaughter.

  Dante watched Tessa and wondered how much more of this she could take without breaking. She looked as if she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. Everything within him wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her and promise her that he would take care of her, that somehow, someway, he would make everything right. It had been seventeen years since he’d cared this much about another human being. There had been a time when he’d desperately wanted to lay the world at Amy Smith’s feet, to love her, take care of her and give her anything her heart desired.

  “I cannot change the past,”
Tessa said calmly. “If I could, I would. I had no control over what happened to me. But you are not that vile man’s daughter. Do you hear me? You’re my daughter. You’re Leslie Anne Westbrook. You’re beautiful and smart and good and kind. I love you. Your grandfather loves you.” With her hands outstretched, Tessa took a tentative step toward her daughter. “Everyone who knows you, loves you, sweetheart.”

  Leslie Anne backed farther and farther away from Tessa until she stood halfway across the room, close to the French doors leading to the side porch. “Did you take care of me when I was a little baby? Did you bathe me and feed me and rock me to sleep? I’d think you couldn’t bear to look at me without thinking of him.”

  “When I look at you, I see you, my daughter. My precious Leslie Anne.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You had a nanny when you were an infant,” Tessa admitted. “Don’t you remember Leda? She was with us until you were six years old.”

  “Yes, I remember her,” Leslie Anne said. “But I remember you taking care of me when I was a little girl. You gave me baths and read me bedtime stories and we made cookies with Eustacia and…”

  “We had a nanny for Tessa,” G.W. said. “For generations, all the Leslie children have had nannies.”

  “When you were an infant, I didn’t take care of you,” Tessa said. “I—I couldn’t. I wasn’t physically or mentally capable of caring for a baby.”

  “What are you talking about?” Leslie Anne stared at Tessa, her face contorted in a fierce scowl.

  “Haven’t you heard enough!” G.W. stormed toward his granddaughter, stopping a few feet away and facing her with a stern look. “Can’t you see that you’re tormenting your mother with these endless questions?”

  “Leave her alone, Daddy, please,” Tessa said. “She has a right to know.” Tessa went to her father’s side, took his hand in hers and looked right at Leslie Anne. “I was beaten so severely that I had to spend a long time in the hospital and then in rehabilitation centers during most of my pregnancy. And for almost a year after you were born, I needed daily therapy.”

  “Physical therapy?” Leslie Anne asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “He cracked her ribs, broke both of her arms and one of her legs,” G.W. said. “He battered her unmercifully…” G.W. clenched his teeth. “Her skull was cracked, too, quite possibly from having been thrown from a moving vehicle.”

  Leslie Anne’s eyes widened in horror.

  “The broken bones healed within a few months, but my injured brain didn’t heal so quickly.” Tessa spoke with little emotion, as if she were discussing someone other than herself. “I had to relearn how to do almost everything. I could talk, but I often got my words all mixed up. It was almost like being a toddler who had to learn to walk and talk and think. I was practically helpless for a long time.”

  “It’s a miracle that your mother recovered,” Dr. Barrett said. “It took over a year of intense physical therapy and several years of psychiatric therapy for her to become a fully functioning person again. She worked long and hard and whenever she even thought of giving up, two things kept her going.” The doctor looked at G.W. “Your grandfather wouldn’t let her give up. Whenever Tessa became frustrated or felt she’d never get better, G.W. would remind her that she had a daughter to raise. And that’s all it took. She’d tell me she had to get well for Leslie Anne.”

  Dante turned away, unable to bear watching both Tessa and her daughter in such emotional agony. And to make matters worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he feared his sweet Amy had gone through at the hands of a deranged killer. Images of Amy flashed through his mind. Her beautiful face, her glorious smile. And then blood. Blood everywhere. All over Amy’s face. All over Amy’s body…

  Tormented by those thoughts, Dante screamed silently, demanding those images to vanish from his mind. But they lingered.

  “Leslie Anne, please come back!”

  Tessa’s pitiful cry snapped Dante from his anguished thoughts. He turned around just in time to see Leslie Anne fling open the French doors and run out onto the side porch.

  “I’ll go after her,” Dr. Barrett said. “I believe she needs to talk to someone who can be objective.”

  G.W. slumped down into the nearest chair, bent his head over and hung his hands between his spread knees. Gasping for air, Tessa tossed back her head and balled her hands into tight fists. Acting purely on instinct, Dante rushed across the room, came up behind Tessa and wrapped his arms around her. She tensed, then when he jerked her backward, pressing her against him, her shoulder blades to his chest, she relaxed into him and sighed.

  “Don’t hold it all inside,” he whispered in her ear. “Let it go. Let it all go. I’m right here to catch you when you fall.”

  As if all she’d been waiting for was his vow to take care of her, Tessa let out a high, shrill keen. The dam burst and tears flooded her eyes, poured down her cheeks and dampened her chin and neck. Dante turned her into his embrace and held her as she wept. The last time a woman had felt so right in his arms, he’d been nineteen and crazy in love with Amy.

  Amy was gone and there was nothing he could do for her.

  But Tessa was a different matter. She was alive. She was suffering. And if there was anything he could do for her, he would.

  G.W. cleared his throat. “Everything’s going to be all right. Leslie Anne will calm down and see reason. She’s a smart girl. She won’t let this business about Nealy change her. Dr. Barrett will see to it. He helped you and he’ll help her.”

  Tessa lifted her head from Dante’s shoulder and looked at her father. “I hope you’re right. I know she’s a smart girl, but she’s also a very sensitive sixteen-year-old. Dr. Barrett can help her only if she’ll let him.”

  G.W. grunted. “I think I’ll take a walk. Would you like to come with me, Tessa?” He glared at Dante, who understood the old man was issuing him a warning.

  Tessa shook her head. “No, I…I want to talk to Dante. Alone.”

  G.W. eyed Dante curiously, as if wanted to ask him something but thought better of it. “Just remember that he’s not a doctor or a lawyer, so whatever you say to him is not privileged information.”

  “We’ll be fine, Daddy. Go take your walk,” Tessa said.

  G.W. stood up straight and tall, then with one final intimidating glare in Dante’s direction, he left them alone in the parlor.

  “He doesn’t like the idea of your being in my arms,” Dante said. “Even if my only motive is to comfort you.”

  “I appreciate the comfort, but…” Tessa eased out of Dante’s arms. “Perhaps it would be best if another Dundee agent heads up the investigation.”

  Puzzled by her request, Dante stared at her inquisitively. “Why?”

  “I’d think that’s obvious.”

  “Spell it out for me, will you?”

  “All right. My life is a mess. I’ve never fully recovered emotionally from what happened to me seventeen years ago. And now I have to deal with my daughter’s emotional problems. I don’t have anything to give you. The last thing you or any man would want is to become personally involved with me and my crazy, mixed-up life.”

  “Should I pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  Shaking her head, she offered him a fragile smile. “It won’t work, you know. The two of us. I’m terribly needy. It would be so easy for me to turn to you, to lean on those big, broad shoulders. But I don’t want to use you that way because I know it isn’t me you want to help and take care of and protect. It’s Amy. Your Amy. You’ve gotten us all confused, all jumbled up together, in your mind. Maybe in your heart, too.”

  “Tessa…”

  “I think you should go now, while you still can. Before—” she swallowed a sigh “—before you become too involved.”

  “I’m already involved,” he told her. “And yeah, maybe I have gotten you and Amy all jumbled up together up here—” h
e tapped the side of his head “—and possibly even in here—” he pointed to his heart “—but, lady, you’ve got to know that I can’t walk away from you.”

  With tears in her eyes, she laughed softly. “Then heaven help you, Dante Moran, because I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHARON REMOVED her sunglasses and slipped them into her coat pocket as Tad escorted her to his car, a sleek little silver Chrysler Crossfire. It wasn’t that she knew much about automobiles as a general rule, but since she’d purchased this vehicle as a gift for Tad on his twenty-ninth birthday last year, she was well aware of how much it had cost her—thirty-five thousand dollars. No one except the two of them knew about this special gift or the fact that it was only one of many expensive items she’d given her young lover. If G.W. had any idea that she had been having an on-again-off-again fling with his lady friend’s son, he would blow a gasket. But then G.W. tended to be old-fashioned about such things as women dating younger men. Her brother was such a hypocrite sometimes. It was perfectly all right for him to fool around with Olivia, who was at least a dozen years his junior. And it was totally acceptable for him to supplement Olivia’s income by paying her rent on a lovely waterfront home and giving her a monthly allowance. But God forbid his little sister pay for services rendered by Olivia’s son or any other man.

  The moment they settled into the sports car, Tad leaned over and kissed Sharon’s cheek. “I’ve missed you something awful, sugar. I wish you’d taken me with you to Key West. I’ve been bored to tears around here without you.”

  “I wasn’t gone that long. Only a few weeks.” She reached over and patted Tad’s smoothly shaven cheek. He was such a pretty thing with his curly auburn hair and dark eyelashes that any woman would envy. “Besides, you know I have friends in Key West who keep me busy and amused.”