"The shooter left his casings. 5.56 millimeter rounds. Definitely not a standard gangbanger weapon." His voice was tight with fatigue and restrained anger. She knew if she turned to face him, she'd find his hands bunched into tight fists.
"So it wasn't the Rippers or the Gangstas."
"No." The word emerged with a soft sigh and she had a feeling she knew where this conversation was heading. With him leaving. Again.
She lowered her head, fumbling for the top button of her dress. He moved to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
"You sure you're all right?"
She nodded, still facing away from him.
His hands caressed her arms as if assuring himself that she was truly unharmed. "I love this dress. Promise me you'll buy another just like it."
The memory of their passion the last time she'd worn this dress flashed through her mind. Was it only a week ago they had the perfect life? She wished she could go back in time, somehow stop their world from spiraling out of control.
"I'm so sorry," he continued, his face lowered beside hers. "I never should have left last night. If anything had happened to you, I don't know what I would have done. I just felt so overwhelmed. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed, that I might not be able to stop it..."
His voice trailed off and she knew he was thinking of his past failure to save Pamela. The other woman's ghost was an almost physical presence insinuating itself between them.
Cassie might be crazy enough to talk to her dead grandparents at times, but no way she was going to allow Drake to torture himself for something not his fault.
She turned within his embrace, reached her hands up to caress his face. God, he looked so very tired. Why did he insist on taking this all on himself?
"You don't have to protect me. I'm not Pamela." There, she'd said the dreaded name aloud. "I can take care of myself. But I can do it a lot better if there are no secrets between us."
Her words came out sharper than she'd intended. It wasn't until then she realized how angry she was at him. For not telling her about the stalking, for leaving her last night, for returning now when it was obvious he was in no shape to deal with an obsessed maniac who might be trying to kill him..
She had the sudden feeling it might be Drake who needed protecting.
His crestfallen expression revealed the impact of her words His hands fell away from her as he stepped back out of her reach.
She followed his gaze and saw it centered on the gleaming diamond on her left hand.
"Secrets?" he said. "What the hell is that?"
CHAPTER 20
Cassie couldn't help herself. Drake's face was such a twisted mix of dismay and disbelief at the sight of Richard's ring, she broke down laughing. He stared at her in horror, not understanding how surreal her day had become, while she sank down onto the floor, uncontrollable laughter shaking her from head to toe.
"What's wrong?" Drake knelt on the floor beside her.
She gasped for air, waving her ring finger. "Richard—proposed—"
"King gave you this?" The fury returned.
Usually Drake had the consummate poker face, but Cassie learned how to read him, while he in turn learned to let down his guard around her. She watched as suspicion edged his fury aside. "And you accepted it? Why?"
He thought she and Richard were—she laughed even harder at the thought. Shaking her head because she couldn't swallow long enough to form words, she simply slid the ring off and tossed it aimlessly across the room. Priceless King family heirlooms be damned.
"No…" She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
Drake finally got it. Started laughing himself, at first a deep chuckle, followed by a cathartic guffaw that rocked through them both as he gathered her onto his lap. "Of course not."
"You actually thought—me and Richard?"
"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know what to think." His tone grew serious again. "I leave for one day and Tony Spanos is answering my own phone, you're wearing King's diamond…"
"You have no idea the day I've had." She sat up straight, took his hands in hers, wrapping them tight around her belly. This was what she'd been missing. This feeling of solidarity. All week she'd been searching for it. "After working with Lisa all night on Mary Eamon's case, I spent the morning with Alan, in a deposition."
"How can King ask you to marry him if he's going through with the damn malpractice case?"
She didn't tell him about Alan's ludicrous proposal. The attorney was just tormenting her, trying to manipulate her with meaningless threats. Or worse, manipulate Drake into reacting. But he deserved to know the Liberty Center was at risk. "Richard said he doesn't want it, but Alan and the rest of the family are after my blood. As well as everything I care about. Alan's trying to block the Center's funding."
"Bastard. Let him try."
"Alan's also been working with Pamela's family. He might be behind your stalker."
The idea obviously left a bad taste in Drake's mouth. "Jimmy thinks the sister might be involved. He tracked her down in LA but her landlord said she left a month ago, no forwarding address. No trace of her since."
"Maybe Alan flew her out here? Or maybe she has nothing to do with it. Other than giving him enough details to set it in motion. He's richer than God, could hire someone to do his dirty work for him."
"What about King?" Drake never could bring himself to call Richard by his first name. "He has just as much money and even more reason to want me out of the picture." He jerked his chin towards the far corner of the room where the ring landed.
Cassie blew her breath out in frustration, hating she might have caused Drake's misery. "I don't think so."
"What's with the proposal?" His voice grew flinty and his hands went lax in hers. She tightened her grip on him.
"He thought it would solve our problems. A sham marriage to get Alan and his family to back down. Save my career and the Center."
"And you said yes?" He tensed against her. Any other circumstances and she would have teased him, but this wasn't the time—or the topic.
"I said no. Emphatically. No. Never. Not in his wildest dreams. But he left me holding the ring and last thing I need is Alan adding the price of an heirloom diamond to the things he hates about me, so I—" She wiggled her ring finger.
"You sure?" His hands fell away from her. "It would solve everything. Even get you back your job. I know how much you miss it."
Cassie shook herself against a sudden chill. She twisted around on his lap to face him. "It
would
solve everything. Including saving the Liberty Center."
Their eyes met. His had darkened to the indigo of a summer's midnight—a sure sign he struggled to contain his emotions. She felt his breath enter and leave, faster than normal, more shallow. Like he was holding something in.
"It would keep you safe," he finally said. Then he looked away, the muscle at the corner of his jaw bunching as he waited for her answer.
"I can take care of myself," she whispered as she tried to kiss him, erase his fears. But he pushed her away, just as he had last night.
"I'm serious. King has a point. Much as I hate to admit it. You're not safe around me. Not now."
"That's ridiculous! You can't be serious."
He slid out from under her and stood, leaving her kneeling on the floor. "If King's family is behind all this, nothing will stop them. Nothing short of—"
"Of me giving in." She jumped to her feet. "I'm not going to do it. I won't let them win. I won't even let them think there's any chance of that."
"Just give me some time to find this actor," he pleaded. "Play along with King. Keep the ring for now. Tell him to tell his brother you're considering his proposal. Anything to keep you safe. Let me and Jimmy do our job without me worrying about you."
"I'm such a bother you want me to—" Anger clipped her words short. "No. I can't do it. Not to us. Not to Richard."
His hands closed into tight fists. "Then stay away from me. Until we can figure all this out. I don't care about the Center, don't care about any of this—" He glanced around the room. "But if something happened to you…"
She wanted to slap him, jolt him from his idiotic delusions. Then she tried to look at it from his point of view. In twenty-four hours her world had turned upside down and everything Drake held dear threatened along with it.
"For how long?" The words made her mouth go dry. She hugged herself, wishing they could turn back time and return to laughing on the floor.
"I don't know." He reached for her hand but she was too angry, she spun away.
A victim. He was treating her like a victim. The one thing he knew she hated most in the world.
His phone rang and he retreated to the other room to answer it.
Cassie stood in the center of the shadows, still hugging herself as if it was December instead of July. Hunger, fatigue, adrenalin, shock, she told herself as she failed to control her shaking. Fear.
"I have to go," he said from the doorway, not crossing the threshold. "I'll call you when…" His voice trailed off. "When I can."
His body leaned forward and she thought—she hoped—he was going to forget this insanity and come back to her. But his phone rang again and the moment was lost. A moment later she heard the door slam behind him.
The floor tilted below her. She sank down on the bed, dizzy and sick. Tried and failed to think of one thing she had left in her life she could control. She'd lost it all: her job at Three Rivers, her work at the Liberty Center, Mary Eamon's killer walked the streets, Alan King possibly manipulating a stalker to ruin Drake's life, and she'd lost Drake. He thought she was helpless, defenseless, a victim…
She sank back onto the silver and black duvet and watched the ceiling spin above her, blurred by tears. There was one thing worse than being helpless, unable to control her life, she was discovering.
Being helpless and alone.
CHAPTER 21
"What the hell just happened?" Drake asked himself as he steered the Mustang towards Monica Burns' apartment. He almost blew through a red light. Horns sounded all around him, adding to the cacophony in his mind. Had he really just told Hart she was better off with King ?
"Idiot." He jerked the wheel to one side and pulled into a vacant parking space. He couldn't do his job, not with all these thoughts tangled inside him. He stepped out of the car and fought the urge to run back to Hart before it was too late.
His phone rang again. Jimmy, thank God. If Monica Burns called one more time asking why he wasn't at her side protecting her from the man she thought had followed her home, he'd shoot something.
He couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to give her his private cell number—he never did that. Just goes to show how far off his game he was.
He answered. "What'cha got?"
"Got your apartment locks changed. Not Spanos' company, the same one that did Hart's house for you. CSU guys came up empty. Except some empty spray paint cans in the basement of your building. Doesn't match any of the death threat graffiti, though."
"Tagger." He'd suspected the boy had been staying in the basement but hadn't been able to catch him. "Nothing to worry about."
"Hart left. Went to the hospital to check on that baby from yesterday."
"Good." The word tasted like a copper penny. No, the copper of blood. "Safer that way."
"Not sure she agrees. You certain about this, partner?"
Usually Jimmy was the one person whose advice Drake listened to. But not this time. Not with Hart's life at stake. He couldn't risk his wanting her near interfering with his needing her safe.
"I'm sure." He paced a circle around the Mustang. "Walk me through this."
They did their best work when they challenged each other with theories. "Someone’s using Spanos' name to access the photos needed to create the threatening letters. Which would either make him the stupidest crook in the world or—"
"Or he's pulling a double-blind. Thinks he's being clever."
"I take it you still like him for the stalker?"
"Yeah, but I don't think he's in it alone. Hart told you about her ex's brother and how he's been in contact with Pamela's family?"
"Not sure what that has to do with anything. Why would the stalker need Pamela's family? Not like he's gonna get permission to use her death to drive you nuts. What's this actor really after?"
That was the question. After what Hart told him about Richard King's proposal, everything changed. "Maybe this whole game isn't about me."
"What, the world doesn't revolve around you? Since when?" Jimmy's attempt at levity fell flat.
"Maybe it's about driving a wedge between me and Hart. I leave for one night and shit happens."
"It was her car the shooter aimed at. So far the stalker hasn't done anything to hurt you."
"That's what doesn't make sense. If it's her ex behind all this, he'd never try to hurt her."
"Don't forget we've still got a gang war brewing. And neither side is very happy with Hart. Maybe they got their hands on a AR-15." It was the type of rifle used in the shooting—similar to what their own SWAT team carried.
"But would they want to kill her?"
"The graffiti—"
"Yeah, but didn't you say they wanted to find Athena Jackson? If they thought Hart knew where she was, why would they try to kill her?"
"Maybe they wanted to scare her into leading them to Athena."
Drake stopped, leaned against the car, drumming his fingers on the hood. "Where'd you say Hart went?"
"To Three Rivers to check on Jackson's baby—oh shit."
Drake didn't bother with expletives. He grabbed the driver's door handle. Immediately realized he couldn't go. Not without putting Hart in more danger.
He closed his eyes, palm burning from the sun-heated metal. "Hey partner—"
"Don't worry, I got her," Jimmy reassured him. "Least I can do if you're willing to deal with Monica Burns and keep her off my back."