Harlequin Romantic Suspense July 2021 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  “What else did he do that hurt you?”

  “One time he slapped the back of my head. But you can’t very well see the bruise underneath your hair.”

  The look of concern, of horror, Jasmine knew was on her face wasn’t faked. But it wasn’t due to thinking her beloved brother was an abuser. Heidi had it all worked out. Without even hearing other ways Josh had supposedly hurt Heidi, Jasmine knew that they’d all be similar injuries. Ones that didn’t allow proof.

  She knew Josh knew them all. Their father had been a genius at hiding his abuse. Heidi listed a couple of more instances where Josh had supposedly hurt her, leaving no evidence. A trip that landed her on her ass and left her whiplashed, saying she hadn’t been watching where she was going. Pulling her hair straight up on her head until she capitulated. Both stories Heidi had heard from her and Josh’s past.

  “So...you agree that I should have custody of Bella for now,” she said when the woman fell silent, still pacing. “Since you can’t have her yet, and we have to get her away from Josh.” She sat on crossed fingers on that one. Feeling like she was betraying her brother just by saying the horrible words aloud.

  She had to defuse the conversation and get Heidi out of her home. Then think about calling the police. Or at least Greg.

  She’d let Heidi in. There was no restraining order to prevent Heidi from being there. And she wasn’t attempting to see Bella without her court-ordered supervision. To the contrary, she’d come after the toddler’s bedtime.

  “I think I can have her.” Heidi stopped right in front of her. A look in her eye that Jasmine didn’t like at all. For the first time since she’d seen her former sister-in-law on her doorstep, fear seeped through Jasmine. And her first thought was Bella. Keeping herself between Heidi and the little girl’s bedroom door.

  “The court said five years,” she said softly, still hoping to rationalize their way out of this. “It’s only been two. That’s not me or Josh stipulating, that’s the court.”

  “The court says generally it’s five years before I can petition,” Heidi said. “But when I show that Josh is the one who’s abusive, they’ll believe that he was abusive back then, too, which I claimed, if you remember, and they’ll realize I’ve been a victim all along.”

  “I saw you attack him, Heidi,” she said now. “He hadn’t done anything to you. He’d just told you that he was giving Bella to me for the weekend so the two of you could work some things out.”

  “He was trying to take her away from me then, too,” Heidi said. “I couldn’t let him do that.”

  An admission of abuse.

  Josh had been trying to protect his daughter. With good cause, as it turned out. Thank God he’d been home when Heidi had finally lost it and started to shake the baby uncontrollably that day...had gone into the nursery and saved Bella from serious harm...

  “I think you should go,” Jasmine said, putting her hands on both arms of the chair as she started to rise.

  With one strong shove, Heidi pushed her back down.

  “Don’t think you’re going to pawn me off like you did before, missy,” she spat. “I’m not going away this time. I know my rights. I’m the victim here. The victim!” Spittle shot from her mouth to Jasmine’s face on the last v.

  Heidi grabbed Jasmine’s hair, wrapping her hand in it, even as Jasmine reached up to try to free herself. With Heidi’s hand tangled at her head, she was able to stand, wincing at the sharp pain in her scalp.

  Heidi yanked, but she wouldn’t cry out. With her body bent sideways, she used both hands to try to free the other woman’s hand from her hair. To knock Heidi off balance. Trip her up. But Heidi was quick. Agile. She’d been a runner in high school. Had always been in good physical shape.

  As long as Jasmine kept herself between Heidi and Bella’s door, she’d be okay.

  “I’m warning you, Jasmine. You think you and Josh are going to keep me from my daughter, my only real family, you’re wrong. You got that?” The words came through gritted teeth.

  Her head felt like her scalp could come loose at any minute. But Heidi wasn’t even attempting to get to Bella. “I got it,” she said.

  “Good then. I don’t want to hear another word about you getting custody of my daughter, you understand? Josh is going down. And I’m going to take Bella and start a new life. Away from the two of you. You’re poisonous. Both of you. I won’t have her growing up in your vile little family.”

  The woman gave Jasmine a shove, letting go of her hair only after the force of the shove gave her one more stab of pain so severe she felt sick to her stomach.

  And then she was gone. Out the door, to her car and down the drive.

  Leaving Jasmine with a god-awful headache, and, she saw as she looked down, a piece of evidence.

  * * *

  Greg had been heading to his home gym when his phone rang. Seeing his newly entered speed dial contact come up, he grabbed it up. She’d seen his missed call.

  Was calling back.

  A good sign.

  “Can you come over?” The words, alarming in themselves, didn’t grab him as much as the weak thread in her voice.

  “Of course,” he said, turning from the bedroom-turned-gym toward the master suite where he’d traded his jeans for basketball shorts. “What’s up?”

  “I...need you to come. I don’t know if I should call the police or not, but...can you hurry?”

  Fumbling to get into a flannel shirt over his workout T-shirt, Greg was on full alert. “Are you hurt? Is Bella?” Had Josh been there?

  “No, Bella’s fine. Still asleep. And I’m...fine. Just...”

  He’d button up in the car. Was working his way one-handed into his jeans.

  “Is someone there?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Her brother had shown her his true colors. And she’d called him. “You need to call the police, Jasmine.” They couldn’t quibble on that one. “He could come back.”

  “He?” For the first time since he’d picked up, he heard the fire of her strength in her voice. “Who?”

  “Who was there?” She’d said not any more when he’d asked if someone was there.

  “Heidi.”

  Not at all the answer he’d been expecting.

  Grabbing his keys and the gun he didn’t always carry, he headed for the garage door and listened as she gave him a two-sentence brief of the meeting.

  “Hang up and call the police and call me right back,” he told her, pushing the button to open the garage door and starting his SUV at the same time.

  He was almost half an hour away. The Santa Raquel police were five minutes away. Max.

  Heidi could still be in the area.

  While Jasmine made her call, Greg sped to the freeway and made a call of his own. To the Santa Barbara police department, asking them to do a wellness check on Josh Taylor.

  Just in case he’d been wrong again.

  And to reassure himself that the man wasn’t going to be hurting someone, too.

  CHAPTER 15

  She’d been crying, Greg noticed. Her eyes were red rimmed. Completely devoid of makeup. In black fleece pants and a cream-colored fleece-looking sweatshirt, she looked fragile to him. He’d been fully prepared for that. Was ready for panic and more tears. As ready as he ever was.

  He’d been prepared to help her through as best he could.

  And yet she stood in her doorway, telling the officers who were leaving she was just fine, in a voice that sounded—just fine.

  In the half hour it had taken Greg to get to her, she’d regained her composure. For a second there, he felt...not needed. Superfluous.

  Missed a step as he strode toward her. Or rather, paused while attempting to stride toward her.

  She glanced over and saw him. Held his gaze. He hurried up the walk, passing the uniformed officers on his w
ay, flashing his ID but not stopping to speak with them.

  “My brother wanted to come, but I told him to stay put,” she said as she shut her front door behind them. “Bella never even woke up, and I don’t want him anywhere near the place where Heidi was in a terror. She’d find a way to blame it on him. She’ll find a way, anyway, I’m sure, but at least if he’s home, he has an alibi. Well, not really, since he’s there alone, but...”

  So not quite as composed as he’d first thought. Which made more sense to him. And yet...her rambling didn’t irritate him in the least. He wanted to hear it, strangely enough. Wanted any and all parts of her she’d share with him.

  A thought he might examine further later. Or not.

  “He’s got his alibi,” he said when she paused for breath. “I called the local police to do a wellness check on him, and they’ve already reported back. They’ve warned him not to open the door and to call 911 if she comes to his place. There’s also an APB out on her in Santa Raquel and Santa Barbara. I’m sure she’ll be in custody before morning.”

  Jasmine’s mouth fell open. She stared at him, standing there in his jeans and flannel shirt that were both now fastened properly, and then she smiled. Not a full-bodied expression. The slight upward turn of her lips didn’t encompass her eyes. Or even much of her face. But it was there.

  So was he.

  And that was good.

  * * *

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to come all the way over here.” Standing there, smiling up at the handsome detective like some kind of besotted idiot, Jasmine suddenly felt self-conscious. Far too aware that she had a huge problem of falling for the protector with power.

  Because she was falling hard for this one.

  For the first time in her life, she hadn’t needed Josh to come racing over and hold her hand through the trauma. Even figuratively. She’d needed to know that he was okay. Needed to warn him about Heidi. But she hadn’t needed him. She’d known Greg was on his way, and that was enough.

  “I needed to come.” His response sent her into another tizzy. What did that mean? Was there some investigative reason she didn’t know about that required his presence?

  They were standing there looking at each other like a couple of infatuated high school sweethearts.

  He took her hand. “Let’s go sit down,” he said, leading the way to the dining table that he’d passed before on his way out to her deck. Wrapping her fingers around his, she nudged them in another direction. Decorated in deeps reds and golds, with green accents, and earth-tone porcelain floors with hand-spun wool rugs, the family room was her peaceful place. In the daytime sun shone in from the two clerestory windows set high above the wall of windows that faced the ocean. Her home was only one story, but the cathedral ceilings gave the room a spacious feel.

  She could have taken one of the two rocking armchairs, left the other for him. Instead, she led him to the sectional they complemented, rounding the big square table that held court in the middle of the entire conversation area. The wall-mounted flat-screen television was hardly noticeable to her. What she loved were the three walls filled with intermittent bookcases that not only held more than one hundred of her favorite books, but many other random things that made her feel good. The colorful painted pony she’d picked up on a trip to Chicago with Wynne. A wooden angel that was in a flying position with hearts in her hands. That had come from a friend from college upon their graduation...

  He was touching the back of her head and she realized she’d turned as she’d perused the room, seeking out the feel goods automatically.

  Reaching a hand up immediately, she covered the small bald spot just beneath the crown of her head. “I’m going to be wearing ponytails for a while,” she said, self-conscious again. Out of nowhere came a memory of an episode of a sitcom when a jealous woman had convinced her ex’s new girlfriend to shave her head.

  It wasn’t like Greg was attracted to her. Or that she wanted him to be. Not really. Not the part of her that knew better. And it wasn’t like baldness was a turnoff anyway. Just because the writers of a television show played it that way didn’t make it so...

  He pushed her hand away. Rubbed his thumb gently across the spot. “Does it hurt badly?” he asked.

  Oh God, not unless you called tingles running through your whole body pain.

  “It’s a little tender,” she managed. “But...my dad used to yank me by my hair when I turned my back to walk away from him and didn’t do it fast enough. I’ve got a tough scalp.” She almost gulped on that last bit. Needing to push his hand away from her.

  And to move her head slowly beneath it, too. Savoring the feel of him.

  She knew she should be shaking in fear. Or residual PTSD from an attack reminiscent of years of abuse. Instead, she sat there trembling at this man’s touch.

  Wanting to bury herself in his arms and cry a little.

  Why did life have to be so hard?

  And so...wonderful at times, too?

  “The police took the hair,” she blurted. She couldn’t let anything happen. She’d be glad later. “I guess they can get her fingerprints or DNA off it or something. Seems like a lot of resources being spent on pulled hair, but...”

  He’d dropped his hand, was sitting with her, neither of them leaning back, on the edge of the sofa. Unlike the wicker bench out back, her sofa was plenty big enough to contain him. And yet she felt as though he dwarfed the room.

  And he was frowning.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. Studied her. And then said, “It’s just—your father, pulling his daughter by her hair...and...just the things I know... He should be in prison, but instead, he’s a respected businessman living a good life, from what I can see. And your exes... Mike...” He said the word with an intonation that led her to wonder if he knew she’d been talking about Desmond Williamson. “He should definitely be in jail. And now Heidi. You don’t think punishing an abuser is worth the resources needed to do so?”

  What she thought was that he was suddenly in a space where she didn’t want him. Jumping up from the couch, she walked around the table, between the chairs and stood just in front of the television set.

  He was talking about family. About those you loved.

  “They’re ill, Greg,” she said, trying to fight her way through the confusion he’d just splashed all over her. “But there’s still good in them. A lot of good. More good than bad.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while, and she fidgeted, tapping her bare heel on the cold floor, hugging her sides. She’d pushed Josh into a table, and he’d had to get stitches. In technical terms, that could make her an abuser. She was her father’s daughter, after all. Hadn’t only grown up with him, as Josh had, but she also had his genes.

  “People have to pay when they commit crimes,” he finally said. “It’s not only the law, it’s the boundary that makes society possible.”

  “You’re just seeing it from a law enforcement point of view,” she shot back. “But there are other things to consider. Like...” A little girl fearing that her younger brother was going to get hurt at her expense. Or get hurt, period.

  Rubbing his hands together slowly, he sat with his forearms on his knees, watching her. And she heard her words from his perspective.

  “I’m not protecting Josh, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, growing more rigid by the second. “If I thought my brother had ever hurt anyone, I’d be the first one insisting that he get help. Covering for him would not only hurt him, it would put Bella at risk, and if you think I’m ever going to let anyone hurt her, you don’t know me at all.” Her tone was biting now. She didn’t care. She hugged herself tighter. She could fight them all.

  Alone if she had to.

  “I don’t think you’re covering for him.”

  Greg’s words knocked her off her axis. She stood there, o
penmouthed, not sure what to do with them.

  “You believe me? You really trust that I’m not lying to you?”

  “I trust you to tell me the truth. I’d already reached that point before now.”

  Okay. Wow. Well, what did she do with that? Dropping her arms, Jasmine moved closer to him. Plopping on the edge of the armchair closest to his side of the couch.

  “So, back to what I was saying. It’s not that I think what my father, or...any of them...did was okay, it’s just that...”

  She didn’t know what. If they went to jail, she should, too? Or—

  “I just always try to put myself in other people’s shoes,” she said now, pretty sure she was being honest. With him, yes, but with herself. Or was it that she saw herself through her perceived views others had of her? Her counselor had suggested the theory. She’d never identified with it before.

  But now...

  “It’s just because you’re a cop,” she blurted when things seemed to jumble up again. “You see the actions, not the people.”

  “I’ve only been a cop for a couple of years.”

  She stared at him. “But you’re a detective. You don’t just jump to that grade level.”

  So now he wasn’t whom she thought he’d been? Whom he led her to believe he was? Or had she just made the leap on her own? What the hell...

  “For the first ten years after I graduated from college, I practiced law,” he told her, bowing his head and then raising it again to look her in the eye. “I went through the academy with the express purpose of working in an investigative capacity for the prosecutor’s office. You don’t always have to do time on the streets, depending on the circumstances.”

  Wait. What? He was a lawyer? That made no sense to her. Who went from being a lawyer to being a cop? For one thing, the pay was less. Unless he’d been disbarred? But then he wouldn’t pass the background check to be an officer, would he?