Sending a maul through a stubborn piece of knotty oak was backbreaking work and it did the trick. By the time they were finished, they were exhausted and couldn’t quite work up a puff of smoke much less a whistle of steam.
And that’s exactly what he needed. He was so mad with Cassi he didn’t trust himself and he knew he needed time to cool off.
He grabbed the splitting maul and muscled the first log into place, grunting with the exertion, his breath pluming in the cold, then sent the maul slicing into the hard wood with a satisfying thunk that reverberated through his arm and up his shoulder. He yanked it free and sent it sailing again until the wood cracked and broke off in chunks.
And then he started again.
About an hour later, sweat raining down his face, he looked up to see Mama Jo, ostensibly coming out to check his progress. He felt a lecture coming on and he wasn’t in the mood. “Mama, just leave me be. I gotta work this out on my own.”
“Of course you do,” she agreed. “You’re a full-grown man. What’s to say that you don’t already know?”
He paused to give her a speculative stare. “What does that mean?” he asked.
She raised her hands, weathered and careworn from soothing so many young brows, including his own, and simply shrugged. “I’m just saying, you already know what needs to be done. I only came out to see how you’re doing with those logs. Watch yourself, now. You don’t want to pull a muscle.”
His mouth firmed. “Thanks. You ought to get inside. You’ll catch a cold or something out there.”
She leveled a short stare his way that made him feel fifteen again. “I’m a long ways away from taking orders from you, Thomas Bristol. Don’t you worry none about me. I’m tougher than a fighting rooster.”
This was true, Thomas thought. “All right, suit yourself. Just don’t try and lecture me on Cassi. My temper is too hot.”
“Sure. I understand. Love will do that to you, I know.” Love. He felt an overwhelming urge to spit on the ground but refrained for Mama’s sake. She continued as if she hadn’t noticed his grunt of annoyance. Sighing, she said, “Do you remember how you felt when you came here?”
“Mama—”
“Just answer the question, please.”
He gritted his teeth but answered just the same. “Pissed off, scared, lonely. Take your pick. You remember what I was like. You tell me.”
“Yes, all those and more. But mostly, broken-hearted. The anger is easy to get through. It’s mending the broken parts that’s the hardest. And even if you manage to put everything back the way it was, it’ll always be fragile, always in danger of breaking again.”
“I know that, Mama,” he said bitterly. It’s why he couldn’t bear to look at old pictures of his family. He was afraid seeing them again would cause him to shatter inside, when he’d worked so hard at putting everything back together again.
“If you know it then why is it so hard for you to see that there are broken parts inside Cassi, too? She needs your help, not your anger.”
“I tried.” He turned away and hefted the maul. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want the help. Just a fact of life, Mama.”
“You gave her an ultimatum.”
He sent the maul whistling into the log, burying it. He looked at Mama, pain roughing his voice, as he said, “I gave her my heart.” He jerked the maul free. “And she threw it on the ground. End of story. I was a fool to think anything could be different, given our history.”
He tossed the maul and gathered the wood to start stacking. He was done talking and Mama knew it.
She turned to leave but just as she reached the back door, she said, “Tommy, I’ve had the privilege of raising you and seeing you turn into a fine adult. You’ve given me all sorts of reasons to be proud of the way you’ve turned out but right now, you’re being a stubborn, pigheaded fool who’s about to lose the one person in this world who ever had the power to truly heal those broken spots in your heart. I can’t believe how disappointed I am in you right this minute. You’d rather stand here alone in your fury than help a woman who needs you no matter what she might say. I’ve said my piece and that’s all I’m gonna say. Make sure you put the tarp over the wood, if you please, when you’re finished.” She ended with a dark scowl before disappearing into the house.
“Damn it!” he swore under his breath, his chest laboring for air from the work out in the chill temperatures. “Sonofabitch!”
Mama’s strident tone reached him from inside the house. “I can hear you and I still have soap I can stick in your mouth.”
Ah, hell. He rubbed the back of his neck and then wiped the sweat with his forearm. Was Mama right? He had a sinking feeling that she was. But even if that was so, what was he supposed to do about it?
She got the driver to drop her off at the gated entrance of her old home and she walked the rest of the way.
She fished her key from her purse and let herself in, surprised that Lionel hadn’t changed the locks. The smug bastard had probably felt pretty secure in the belief that she wouldn’t return.
The house was an empty shell; the hired help were long gone for the day and seeing as Lionel was probably trying to skip the country, she didn’t fear his sudden appearance. Not that he’d scare her anyway. Lionel wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty.
There wasn’t much of her mother left in the house, she realized, going room to room, noting the differences. Lionel had changed the decor from her mother’s favored French provincial to more masculine accents. The furniture was chunky and solid, whereas her mother had loved the spindly-legged antiques she’d often searched Europe for. She had particularly loved when she’d found a piece with genuine royal history. Funny, Cassi hadn’t cared for the style when she’d lived at home, but now she missed it. She peered out the window and saw the dark shape of the stables. At least he hadn’t gotten rid of the horses. Perhaps because he’d fancied himself a man with fine tastes and that required a certain knowledge or at least possession of horseflesh in these parts.
After a thorough tour, she realized any trace of what had made this her home had been replaced. Her mother’s spirit had flown along with her furnishings, and the energy of the house had completely changed.
What would she do with it? Sell it? She exhaled, not quite sure. Her father had loved this house. Well, she supposed she had some time to figure it out.
She turned and nearly screamed as a silhouette in the darkened foyer stood watching her.
She knew it wasn’t Tommy.
Lionel stepped forward, his expression menacing. “Cassandra…you’ve made things difficult and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what happened. Perhaps you can shed some light on the situation.”
She moved away, keeping a healthy distance between them. “That’s easy,” she answered evenly. “You’re a pathetic predator who preys on women and I managed to find enough evidence of your sloppy work to put you away. Yay me. Does that about sum it up?”
An ugly smile lit up his face as he advanced. “So smart,” he sneered. “Wrapped everything up nice and tidy with a cute little bow, didn’t you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I seem to have accomplished my goal. You’re going to go away for a long time and I won’t lose a minute of sleep over it.” She skirted a large coffee table. “Tell me, what exactly is your plan now? You can’t seriously think that it was smart to come here when you’re a wanted man? I figured you’d be long gone since you managed to convince the judge to let you walk for the time being. Now you get to find out what it feels like to be hunted.”
He didn’t appear worried. “I’m not going to prison.”
“That’s news to the people who are going to put you away, such as the feds,” she countered, sweat starting to bead her forehead. “But just for the sake of argument, what makes you think you’re going to get away with murder?”
“I have a plane waiting for me and enough money to disappear. I’d considered toughing it out—the evidence is purely circumstantial—but I couldn’t take the risk that an unsympathetic jury might not see things my way. Besides, Bridgeport was beginning to bore me anyway. As is being single. Time to find a new special lady to spend some quality time with,” he answered, getting closer, and she was running out of places to maneuver. He smiled again. “But first, I have some unfinished business. A loose end, if you will, that needs tying up.”
She had a good idea of what—or who—that loose end was, and she tensed, her stare darting to the nearest exit. “Yeah?” she said, almost conversationally, though fear had begun to seep through her pores. “So what? You’re going to kill me?”
“The thought has some appeal. You know I could’ve done it years ago but I figured you were making enough trouble for yourself that I didn’t need to bother.”
She twisted her mouth derisively. “Sorry to disappoint. It’s one of my worst habits.”
He shrugged. “Live and learn. Now, would you be a dear and be still. I’m going to enjoy killing you.” He pulled a gun from his back waistband and popped off a shot just as she dived behind a sofa. A puff of stuffing erupted from the bullet and Cassi swallowed a gasp as she heard the shot embed in the wood only inches from her chest. Thank God for the ugly, manly furniture. Her mother’s furniture wouldn’t have stopped a BB pellet much less a .32 caliber.
As she crawled on her belly, getting ready to make a run for the next room, she wished she hadn’t been so quick to push Tommy away. Right about now, she could use a little muscle.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, lifting her chin, her hand closing around a large, palm-size decorative orb. Without warning she lobbed the crystal paperweight straight at Lionel’s head, connecting hard and knocking him silly. He staggered, but his grip on the gun didn’t weaken. She ran headlong toward him, sending a roundhouse kick straight into his sternum that sent the gun skidding away and then as he tried to recover, she took great pleasure in sending her fist straight into his stunned face. He collapsed to the hardwood floor, bloody drool dribbling down his chin, stone-cold unconscious. She retrieved the gun to stand over him.
“I win, you bastard,” Cassi crowed, her chest heaving with exertion and victory. “And you
are
going to prison. That’s a damn promise.”
“You’re damn right it did and I’m not sorry.”
He lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “No one is asking you to be. Not me at least.”
She grinned and he went to the telephone. “May I?” he asked, motioning to the wiring.
“Be my guest,” she answered, and he ripped the cords free to secure Lionel while they waited for the cops to arrive. “Did you see everything?” she asked.
“Pretty much.”
“And?” she asked, waiting for some kind of disapproval, but she didn’t get it.
“And I think I’m thankful you only punched me.”
His dry retort caused laughter to bubble up from inside her. She smiled, glancing at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Well, I did tell you I pulled the punch. I have moves you’ve never even seen,” she teased softly.
He laughed. “Of that I have no doubt. However, how about I promise not to act like a sanctimonious jerk and you promise not to take out my manhood with one of your moves?”
She went to him and slid her arms around him. “Deal.” They stood forehead to forehead, allowing the moment to fold around them before she spoke again. “I’m sorry,” she admitted in a soft voice.
He pulled away so he could meet her gaze. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“Some of what you said was right.”
“And some of it was totally out of line,” he countered.
They were both right. She nodded, accepting his apology just as he accepted hers. “So what now?”
“Now, we deliver this sonofabitch to the authorities, who are on their way as we speak, and then we go get a hotel room and settle in for the night because I am not sleeping alone, it’s too far to my apartment and I’m ending this night with your body pressed against mine. We’ll figure everything else out in the morning.”
“I like the sound of that.”
She smiled up at him. For the moment the shadows were gone, but he knew they would return. He knew because there were still days that made him flinch when the memories came back and he suspected it would be the same for her. But this time, when they came, he wanted her to know that he’d be there for her, just as he knew she’d be there for him.
“And one more thing,” he said, his expression turning somber and shining with the integrity she’d come to know and expect from Tommy Bristol. “I will always have your back.” His hands reached between them to cup and cradle her face as if it were the rarest of gems and held her gaze.
“Always.”
Tears welled in her eyes. That’s all she’d ever needed.
It’d just taken a while for her to realize it.