“Why didn’t you tell me before?” The words slipped out despite his earlier statement. Like a moron, he just kept pushing her.
“Oh yeah. By the way, Zander, I was raped. Later on, to exorcise my demons, I slept with a bunch of other frat boys. Makes for good conversation, don’t you think?” The pain in her voice was so sharp, he was surprised neither of them were bleeding.
He’d told her she didn’t have to talk about it. But the truth was that he wanted to know. He wanted to find a way to make it go away. To make it better. He wanted to keep her from ever being hurt again. He wanted to drag her ghosts out in the open and force them to dissolve in the light. She didn’t have a skeleton in her closet. She had the whole damn graveyard.
“So sex became your weapon of choice after the attack?”
He’d seen it before. Unwillingness or inability to deal with the pain and vulnerability rape caused, often propelled a victim down a self-destructive path. It was usually an attempt to reclaim her power the only way she knew—sex. Every situation she controlled, every man she dominated, brought back some of what her attacker had stolen from her.
This time the “she” in question wasn’t a statistic on paper. It was Tessa. He felt sick. Intellectually, he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. But emotionally, he couldn’t control the pointless desire to travel back in time and right every wrong she’d ever suffered.
It was all he could do not to drive back to her parents’ house and rip out Weston’s throat.
“Don’t analyze me. I’m not one of your dissertation subjects.”
He sighed. How typical. If he couldn’t deal with a topic he let himself slide into clinical mode, scrutinizing everything in sight. He shoved his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Analyzing me or judging me?” Looking utterly exhausted, she rubbed her hand across her eyes. “Just go home, Zander. Please.”
She turned her back, effectively dismissing him, but before he could argue further, she stopped and raised a trembling hand. “Where did that come from?”
Zander looked in the direction she pointed. The only thing out of the ordinary was a piece of white paper propped on the fireplace mantel. She took a step forward then froze. Her sharp gasp and pale face drew him to her side. Was she ill?
“Tess? Angel? What is it?”
She stared unblinking at the note. Sheer terror emanated from her quivering body. He’d seen that same expression somewhere before. With stark comprehension, he remembered Julia.
Zander crossed the room in order to read what was written there.
You took mine away. Soon, I’ll take yours.
“What is this?” he demanded.
Tessa’s pale skin whitened further.
“How…how did he?” She sank to the floor.
“How did he what?” Zander knelt by her side so he could meet her gaze. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s been here,” she whispered. She frantically looked around.
He slipped his hand around the back of her neck. Drawing her forward, he placed his lips against her ear. “Keep talking to me like I’m in the room. I want to make sure whoever it has left.”
She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “No,” she rasped.
“You’ll be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Her eyes flashed, and her lips tightened in anger. “I’m not worried about me,” she whispered harshly.
“Keep talking,” he mouthed.
She handed him a baseball bat from the umbrella stand.
“I’m sorry, I led you on. I thought I could do this. Have a normal life.” Her voice broke for a moment, but she swallowed and continued. “But, I can’t. Some things are just too broken to fix.”
The pain in her voice stabbed at him. He wanted nothing more than to hold her. Instead, he methodically searched her. She continued as he made sure the place was empty. He checked her room last. There was no sign that anything had been disturbed anywhere in her home.
He turned around. “We’re alone.”
Tessa hovered anxiously behind him, her gaze darting between him and the note.
He nodded toward the message, trying to control the snarl in his voice. “Is this from Weston?”
He wasn’t successful. Tessa flinched.
“No.” She dropped her chin to her chest. “I don’t know.”
He studied the paper. It was blank, except for the large, block lettering. Icy dread and a thousand fears pummeled him.
She pulled the phone from her purse and slumped against the wall. “I didn’t want you dragged into this, too,” she murmured.
“Dragged into what?”
Ignoring him, she punched in a series of numbers.
Zander stood in front of her. “I’m still in the dark here.”
She held her finger to her lips. Worry veiled her gaze as she observed him. At a loss for something to do, he double-checked the door and window locks. She turned and paced toward her bedroom, her voice a distant murmur, floating down the hall. He followed behind, unwilling to let her from his sight.
Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Had he hurt her so badly that any trust she had in him had dried up?
Tessa rubbed the back of her neck as she returned and hung up the phone.
“Talk to me.” He took her hand, caressing her knuckles. “Please.”
She took a deep breath, slipping into her bravado as if it were a coat. “I’ve been getting creepy notes.”
Cold apprehension curled through his body, and he had to try hard to maintain an air of nonchalance. “What kind of creepy notes?”
She allowed him to lead her to the couch and pull her to his side. He needed to keep her close. Keep her safe.
“The garden-variety, stalking kind.”
“You’ve gotten them before?”
“Zander, I volunteer at a crisis center. Sometimes, I get freak mail and even death threats.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal then slumped against the cushions.
Blinding anger burned through him. He fought to stay calm.
Her boldness faltered. She shivered. “Lately, I’ve been getting notes and other…things.” She gestured to the note on the mantel. “Usually, they come in manila envelopes to the library or the shelter. Never here.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
Closing her eyes, she sighed. “At first, I didn’t want to worry you.”
A choked sound escaped him as he tried to think of a response that didn’t involve shouting his frustration. Before he could come up with anything, she opened her eyes and held his gaze.
“I was going to tell you tonight. After we got back from my parents’, but…”
Weston. She didn’t need to finish that thought aloud.
Tessa didn’t resist when he wrapped her in his arms. Her skin was cold to the touch. He pulled an afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it around her body.
Staring blankly at her lap, she picked at the blanket covering her. “I tried to be careful, but he must have followed me home from work.” She spoke as if she were talking to herself. “I don’t know how he got inside. I always lock the door.” She turned abruptly to face him and searched his eyes. “The door was locked when we got back, right?”
He nodded. The thought of some freak inside Tessa’s home sent fear spiking through him again. Her apartment felt different somehow, as if a residue of evil had been left behind.
Jesus. The nightmare was playing out again, this time with Tessa. Would he come home some night to find her mutilated, lifeless body on the blood-soaked carpet?
Remembered moments of time spent with her played though his mind like a jerky filmstrip. Tessa searching the crowd at the gallery, peering into falling darkness at the street fair, her jumpiness in the garden at the award ceremony, her constant nervousness—it all made sense now. Some expert in human behavior he’d turned out to be. So blinded by his attraction to her, h
e missed the obvious signs.
“You have no idea who’s behind this?” he asked as gently as he could. He’d kill him. He’d kill the bastard before he laid a finger on her.
“I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I can’t think of anyone who would do this.”
“Not even Weston?” The thought of the other man made him sick. The son-of-a-bitch deserved to pay for what he put Tessa through. Who knew how many other women had suffered at his hands? Judging from his behavior tonight, he obviously enjoyed tormenting others. Was he sick enough to continue harassing her? More importantly, was he twisted enough to hurt her again?
“He’s got too much riding on his partnership with Daddy to risk it,” Tessa began. “Besides, he’s an opportunist. This situation requires more effort than he’s ever put into anything—except maybe kissing up to my parents.”
“What about the police?” he asked. “Have you contacted them?”
Julia had received threats by both mail and phone before she died. She and Nikolas had reported it to the police, but that had been an exercise in futility. The authorities’ hands were tied. Approval to tap a phone line took an Act of God and Federal Court. The two entities didn’t communicate much.
His brother and sister-in-law had been informed, time and time again, that the police had neither the money nor the manpower to provide surveillance, but they’d be happy to come out if the offender was caught in the act. They’d advised Nikolas and Julia to invest in a state-of-the-art security system and a guard dog.
Their college-student budget didn’t allow for a security system, but they’d gotten a dog. It hadn’t helped. Julia was still dead.
“I called the police,” Tessa said, returning him to the present. “They’re on their way, now.” She shook her head. “He’s probably harmless. Just someone with a weird hobby.”
Zander could tell from her tone she didn’t believe it.
“What else has he sent you?”
She stiffened in his embrace. “A couple ribbons, sleazy underwear…handcuffs.” Her voice caught on the last word, and she swallowed hard.
He tightened his grip on her, and she sank into the shelter of his arms. He’d protect her somehow. There was no way he’d let her suffer Julia’s fate. He glanced back at the note.
You took mine away. Soon, I’ll take yours.
He nodded toward it. “What does that refer to?”
She laughed, a choked, slightly hysterical sound. “The only thing I’ve ever taken away is a library card.”
He reached over to turn on a lamp.
She caught his hand. “Don’t. He might be watching.”
A knock on the door startled her, and she cringed. An expression of obvious disgust twisted her features. She pushed from his arms. Zander rose, following her.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Police, ma’am,” came the terse reply.
Tessa peered through the peephole before unlatching the deadbolt.
Two uniformed officers stepped inside and surveyed the room. After Zander and Tessa had answered a few preliminary questions and had their own fingerprints taken for exclusionary purposes, she showed them the note.
The surly-looking cop dusted everything in sight with graphite powder, covering her home with a fine, gray film. Using tape, he meticulously lifted prints off every surface and placed them on small white cards, before he labeled each one.
His female partner sat with Tessa and gently interviewed her about every detail. They combed the new note, searching for any clues to its meaning. The officer managed to simultaneously soothe and coax answers from Tessa. It wasn’t hard to guess which one played good cop and bad cop in any given scenario.
The smell of graphite reminded Zander too clearly of the hours after they’d found Julia’s body. He focused on the answers Tessa gave, willing away his own memories.
“Was there anything in particular that stood out about any of the items?” the police officer asked.
“The ribbon and underwear smelled like cologne and cigarette smoke.”
Zander noticed Tessa’s hands were clenched so tightly, her nails dug into her palms.
“And the handcuffs?”
“There was dried blood on the metal and long blonde hair tangled in the chain.”
Shock kicked Zander in the gut. Why hadn’t she told him about that?
“Where are they now?” the other woman asked.
“I gave them to Detective Duritz.”
Zander’s mind reeled. As he listened to Tessa describe the timeline of events, he realized she’d asked him out the same day she’d received the first note. Coincidence? Not likely.
Tessa locked the door after the police left. She glanced at Zander. He’d begun cleaning the mess left behind by the fingerprint powder, his expression inscrutable.
What was he thinking? After everything he’d found out tonight, she was surprised he hadn’t run in the opposite direction. Yet. The thought of his retreat bruised her heart, but maybe, it was better to get it over.
“You…” She had to clear her throat to finish the sentence. “You don’t have to do that. I can get it.”
He kept wiping the gray dust off her belongings.
“Look,” she started. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this whole freak show.”
He lifted his head and met her gaze. A shiver coursed through her body at the hardness in his eyes. They glittered, a dangerous shade of green.
“Don’t feel like you have to stay and deal with…” She gestured around the room. “This. It’s been a long couple of days. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”
He squeezed the rag in his hand. His knuckles whitened. “You actually think I’m going to leave you alone with some sicko stalking you?” He slapped the cloth on the mantel. “Just because the majority of the men you know are assholes, it doesn’t mean I am.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” He smiled, but it looked like more of a grimace to her. “Is that why you didn’t tell me what was going on? You thought you couldn’t trust me.”
Nausea roiled in her stomach. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Maybe you even considered me a suspect,” he continued.
“No! This isn’t your crisis. I don’t expect you to take care of me.”
“Maybe, that’s part of your problem, angel.”
Anger fought for dominance over fear and confusion. In the end, it won. “What’s my problem, professor? Care to enlighten me?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t trust anyone. You refuse to lean on anyone else. Let someone take care of you once in a while.” His expression softened slightly. “Would it be so bad to take a chance?”
Chapter Fourteen
Tessa couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t listen to Zander talk about chances, as if they actually had one.
She wished their relationship could be real. She wanted to let him in, to tell him everything. To share her fears with him. To share her love. But she couldn’t. She wanted it even more than she wanted her mother’s love. But wishing wouldn’t make it happen. The most she could give Zander was her body. She wasn’t sure she had anything else left. And besides, he might be talking about chances, but his reaction to the frat boys pretty much told her everything she needed to know. He was worried about her because he was kind, but when the danger was past, what then?
“You haven’t answered me. Would it be so bad to take a chance on us?”
She gripped the back of a dining room chair for support. The engraved design bit into her fingertips, but she welcomed the pain. It kept her focused on what she needed to do—end their sham of a relationship before her heart was completely shredded.
As much as she might want to believe there was a chance at a real relationship, she couldn’t let herself go there. She had so much baggage, and in the end, it would only weigh them both down. He deserved so much more—someone who wasn’t completely broken. “There is no us,” she said sof
tly. “This was about tenure, remember?”
“That changed the first time I kissed you.” He shook his head, a rueful smile curving his lips. “No, it happened long before that. I just wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. Or anyone else.”
He paused and looked at her as if waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he continued. “We can talk about this later. Right now, you need to grab your stuff.”
“What?”
“There’s no way you’re staying here. Not until this sick fuck is caught or there are some security measures in place.”
It made sense. The guy had gotten in once, he could definitely do it again. But she wasn’t sure about staying with Zander. What if the guy tried to get to her there? What if he hurt Zander? She couldn’t live with herself if anything happened to him.
She knew that he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. He’d put himself in danger. For her. The panic she’d experienced when he searched her apartment multiplied exponentially. A violent criminal had been inside her home, and Zander had looked for him, heedless of any jeopardy he might be in.
“You don’t have to do this,” she repeated.
“Do what? Care about you? Too damn late for that.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Don’t you think that maybe you’re confusing being worried about me for feelings for me?”
The hurt that flashed across his eyes twisted her heart. He studied her as if he could figure out all of her secrets. She only had one left, her love for him, and she was holding on to that secret with both hands.
“Push me away as much as you want, but you’re stuck with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if daring her to try dissuading him.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” she blurted. By her stalker or her. Her chest ached with fear for him. “I can just—”
“If you finish that sentence with ‘stay in a hotel’, I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. Please, Tess. Just get your stuff. The rest will sort itself out.”
Suggesting a hotel was exactly what she’d been about to say. He obviously knew her too well.
Vengeful Shadows Page 18
