Cooper (4 page)

Then the penny dropped. The weird connection he felt to her. The need to protect her from whoever had made her feel so bad about herself.

Caleb hadn't said anything, but started attacking his keyboard with a vengeance. In a few more seconds he lifted his head.

"There are a few Amy Hayses in the S F area,” Caleb announced, using the abbreviation for San Francisco he preferred. Coop liked calling it
Frisco
, not just because it was an old-fashioned term, but because it captured the essence of the place more fully for him. It was like someone was trying to turn this city into another LA by calling it S F.

“Hays with and without an
e
. What else can you tell me about her?" Caleb asked, returning in his gaze to the screen in front of him so he could scan for more information.

"She's rich. She's in her late teens or early twenties. A gorgeous redhead. I… I don't know what else…"

"Oh shit! Okay, I think we can cross her off as one of our mates. I've found the girl." He spun the screen around so the rest of them could see the Newspaper Gossip Column picture of Maxwell Hays, his wife Gloria and their daughter Amy, at a recent fundraiser. Father and daughter had red hair, though Hays had a darker auburn shade than the girl did.

"Yeah, that's her. But what's the big deal? So she's rich. How does that make her unacceptable?" Cooper felt his protective hackles rising again.

"Hays is Guild. You've just fallen for a member of the Guild, for fuck’s sake."

"Maybe that's what’s activating his cat. Being close to a Guild member. It's possible," Chase said thoughtfully.

"Nope. Unlikely. Cameron went to school with the bastards and it wasn't until they attacked him that his cat activated. I can't think just having coffee with one would set Coop off," Colt countered equally as thoughtfully.

"Hey, this girl isn't Guild. She's shy, insecure and nice." He felt his heart beating faster and he'd started to sweat. Was it hot in here?

"We met Rothmen's eighteen year old son, Hugo, on this last mission. He was all those things too, but you could feel it. He was Guild. And of course his elongated skull gave him away, too."

"Amy doesn't have an elongated skull," he stammered desperately. If she was Guild she was out of his reach. She was the enemy.

"Does she seem ugly in any way to you?" Colt asked, almost gently.

"Ugly? God, no. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
She
thinks she's ugly and stupid, but she's neither."

"Maybe he doesn't have the same reaction to them, because he hasn't been activated," Chase suggested, drumming his fingertips on the table. This time it wasn't impatience that caused the tapping. This was his thoughtful drumming, so they all let him do it, even though it was bloody annoying.

"She's not Guild. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe the photographer saw her talking to Hays and because she has red hair thought she was the daughter… Amy." He realised as he said her name that the chances of his Amy having the same name as Hays' daughter and talking to the billionaire at a fundraising event was too improbable to be possible.

The sweet, sad and beautiful Amy Hays was Guild, one of the sociopathic invaders destroying their world.

"Coop, you know she's Guild," Chase said gently but firmly. "And for that reason alone you have to stay away from her. She's the cause of your volatile state. She's the
only
cause. If you don't want to risk innocent lives, then you have to stay away from her. If not for your own sake, then for the others you put at risk."

"She's not the cause. And just because she's Guild doesn't mean she’s a monster. A third of the world's population have some of their DNA. Does that make them all monsters? Are you going to put them all down?" He knew he sounded hysterical, wound so tight he was ready to break, but what Chase was suggesting was impossible.

How could he never see Amy again?

"It's for the best," Caleb said, his lips thinning as he fought to say something more.

"Our mates are out there," Colt put in," When you find yours, you'll realise the difference between infatuation and love. You'll realise that a Guild girl was never right for you. There's literally a world of difference between finding your mate and settling for anyone else."

He shook his head. How could he argue against anything they said? They were right, of course. Amy was a danger to everything he lived for, everything he believed in. He couldn't risk all that for the daughter of a monster, no matter how beautiful and damaged she was.

Amy floated back home several inches off the ground. She didn't notice the cold; didn't feel disappointed that Marquez had been a fraud; didn't even fear running into her father when she got in. Tonight she'd met a handsome man who treated her like she was bright, beautiful and special. Nothing else mattered but that.

But as their maid, Juanita, opened the front door for her, she saw her father leaning against the living room door-jam. His pose was casual in the extreme and it was enough to make icy prickles run down her spine. Time to pay the piper.

"Where have you been?" he demanded softly. Maxwell Hays was one of those men whose voice got softer the angrier he became. And right now his voice was very soft.

"I went to a show in the city," she replied, hurrying towards the curved staircase that led up to her room and safety.

"Without telling anyone where you were going? Without taking one of the cars?"

She turned as she reached the bottom step and looked guiltily at her father. His face was very red and there was tightness around his eyes. Both hands were flexing into fists.

"I didn't want to trouble the drivers. It was just as easy to take a cab."

How could she admit that if she’d taken one of the cars her father would have been made aware of her destination? Going to Marquez had been her first real act of rebellion in five years and only desperation had driven her to take that step. Psychologists and therapists hadn’t been able to heal her, and Marquez had seemed like a tiny light at the end of the tunnel. She’d known it was crazy and stupid to take the risk. She’d known it would bring punishment down on her. But just once she wanted a choice she made to be the right one.

"
Didn't want to trouble the drivers
? Amy Lindsay Hays, how often have I told you that these people are employed to do our bidding? You aren't inconveniencing them by getting them to do their job."

"I…I know, father, but Jules had a date and Miguel was sick. I didn't mind. Worrying about having one of them sitting outside in the cold waiting for me would have spoiled the show." And it wasn’t a total lie. Inconveniencing anyone for her own benefit felt wrong. But then, thoughts like that were wrong too, weren’t they? Her father was right. He was always right. She shouldn’t have gone to see Marquez; and if she had, she
should
have taken a driver.

The growl was almost inhuman as her father strode across the Italian tiles to her side. He grabbed her upper arm in a painful grip and shook her until her head jerked backwards and forwards like a bobble-doll.

"Worrying about a chauffeur sitting in a car? Sometimes I can't believe how stupid you are! What if you couldn't find a cab? All I need right now, after what happened to Akabar and Rothmen, is someone targeting members of my family. I can't be seen to be vulnerable. And if it was known that my daughter pranced about the city on her own, it would make me an easy target."

She wanted desperately to see this anger as a sign of his concern for her safety. But she knew better. Her father cared nothing for her or what she did with her time. All he cared about was how her actions might reflect on him.

"I'm sorry, father. I… I didn't think," she got out before biting her tongue when her jaw slammed into her chest.

"Sorry? You're always sorry, girl. And you never think. Why would this time be any different? If I hadn't had your blood tests confirmed repeatedly over the years I would have sworn you were a cuckoo placed in my nest by some passing ugly moron. But no, it's worse than that. You're my daughter. You're Guild. And I can only think you're a throw-back on your mother's side, because I can see no breeding in you whatsoever." He flung her with all his strength at the stairs, and she tripped and fell heavily onto her right elbow and side. The pain and fear were terrible, but not as bad as they would be if she didn't escape now.

On hands and knees she began crawling up the staircase, afraid to look back in case she drew more violence down on her head. By the time she reached the upper level she was shaking. Tears poured down her face. She felt sick, so sick she thought she might throw up the brownies she'd eaten at the coffee shop. What further punishment would that mean? Not only befouling the hall carpet, but displaying further evidence of her rule-breaking.

Hurriedly, she scrambled to her feet and hobbled down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside she headed for the bathroom and spewed up the brownies into the toilet.

Maybe it was better this way, she thought numbly, as she flushed the evidence away. At least now there'd be no zits to incriminate her.

As she staggered back into the bedroom and collapsed across her bed, her phone began to buzz in her bag. It was a bit of a shock to hear it as she rarely got calls, except to confirm appointments or from the occasional reporter who wanted to interview her on behalf of one of her causes. But none of them would call this late at night. What was it, after ten? How long
had
she sat in that coffee shop mooning over Cooper Adams?

She pulled her smart phone out and pressed the green answer button. With trepidation, she held the phone up to her ear.

"Amy? It's Cooper. I hope it's not too late to call. I thought you might be concerned, so I wanted to let you know I'm okay."

Cooper? He'd really called her back? She'd half expected never to hear from him again. She'd half convinced herself that needing to see his doctor had simply been an excuse to get away from her, without hurting her feelings.

But here he was, calling her so soon.

She cleared her throat and wiped at her still-wet cheeks, as if he could see her. "Oh, hi Cooper. Th…Thanks for calling. I appreciate it."

"What's wrong?" his voice became instantly concerned. Had she sounded that bad?

"N…Nothing. I'm okay. I fell on the stairs, that’s all." She tried to keep the lie as close to the truth as possible.

Over the years, she'd become a pretty good lair. Most people who saw the bruises she couldn't disguise with makeup thought she really was as clumsy as she led them to believe. But on one trip to the ER when she was twelve, the medical staff had been too suspicious. That was when her father had her first committed. He'd claimed she'd tried to throw herself off the landing.

"I need to see you. Can I see you?" His voice was urgent now. There was a note of longing that spoke to something deep inside her.

"When?" she croaked, fighting back a fresh wave of tears.

This man wasn't like her father. This man cared about her, even though they'd only spent a few short minutes together. How was that possible?

Maybe it was a con. Maybe he was a gold-digger after her family's money. No one would be so nice to her unless they had an ulterior motive.

She remembered the time when a boy at school had shown an interest in her. Paul, one of the Guild jocks that ran the school behind the teachers' backs, had suddenly started showing her a lot of interest. Not exactly kind, not exactly complimentary, but it was interest, and she'd had so little of that in her life that she'd drunk it up.

Paul had asked her to meet him behind the bleachers between classes. Even though she was already way behind in her work because of her numerous stays in the sanatorium, she nevertheless agreed. Anything to have someone pay her a little attention for a little while and make her feel special.

How old were they back then? She must have been fifteen, Paul was a year older. She'd thought she was in love, although there was a part of her that screamed the opposite was true.

All her life she'd felt different from the people around her. Some of them, like her parents and schoolmates, made her feel different in a bad way. Others, like Maria and the rest of the staff, made her feel different in a neutral way, not good or bad. All she knew was that her differentness, her lack of ability to fit in where she was supposed to belong, made her see feel wrong. It made it easy to believe her parents and schoolmates were right about her.

So that day she went behind the bleachers to meet Paul Harrison, even though it felt wrong to do so. Even though everything inside her screamed at her to stay away.

But Paul seemed so worldly-wise, so much like her father; if he said it was okay to skip class to meet him, then it must be. Second-guessing herself was so ingrained by then that she couldn't tell which voice in her head to listen to.

Amy had been terrified, walking into that off-limits area alone that day. And as soon as she saw Paul she knew she’d made a mistake. He beckoned her forward, threw her to the ground and torn off her panties. Had she even struggled to escape? She couldn’t remember. It was unlikely.

Pointing to the camera he’d set up on the wooden framework overhead, he laughed triumphantly. "That's to prove I won the bet. They said I didn't have the guts to fuck the ugly idiot, but they're wrong. I can do
anything
!"

And then he undid his belt, slowly, the threat in every gesture and look. She should have screamed. She should have tried to run. Instead, Amy had felt frozen to the spot.

Her whole world had collapsed around her that day. Every girlish dream she ever held about finding her Prince Charming, who would see beneath her ugly exterior to the real her, died as she lay there waiting for that boy to rape her.

As Paul dropped his pants, his expression shifted from triumph to surprise. Reaching for his neck, he looked around, as if trying to locate something neither of them could see. In the next moment, he fell to the ground, a small dart sticking out of his neck.

Sobbing hysterically, Amy scrambled to her feet and ran. Not back to school. Not back to those jeering faces just waiting to see her violation. Not home either, where more punishment would surely come her way. She ran and hid in the grove of trees at the far end of the school grounds. And she stayed there, unable to make another decision, until the police found her the next morning. That very day she was shipped back to the mental institution.

"Amy? Are you still there?" Cooper's anxious voice drew her away from those terrible memories.

She couldn't risk her heart again. Not on this possible gold-digger. Although nothing screamed at her to stay away, she couldn't trust her own judgement. Even though everything inside her drew her to Cooper, she fought against it. She'd been wrong so often she didn't know what was right anymore.

"Yes, I'm here. I…I don't think it’s a good idea. You and I, it wouldn't work."

She heard the silence at the other end of the line. She could almost feel his pain at her rejection.

"I… understand. Sorry to have bothered you," he said stiffly.

He thought it was because he was in a wheelchair. He thought she was rejecting him because he was disabled. No, she couldn't let him think that. That was too cruel. Oh, God,
more choices. More chances to make another mistake.

"Cooper, I'm not in a good place. I…I've spent the last eight years in and out of mental institutions. Being with me wouldn't be good for you.
I
wouldn't be good for you." She shuddered and tried not to sniff, but the tears kept flowing.

"Fuck that! I'm sick of people telling me you're not good for me.
I
want to see you. And I think
you
want to see me, too. Tell me I'm wrong!" He sounded so upset that her tears flowed harder in sympathy.

"Amy!" he demanded furiously.

Although his anger should have terrified her, it didn't. His fury wasn't directed at her but at the outside forces keeping them apart: her unstable mental condition, his friends who told him to stay away from her.

Who had told him about her? Surely the grapevine wasn't that fast. Yet he'd said people had told him she was not good for him. So he knew.

"Those people are right, Cooper. Listen to those people. Having anything to do with me will only end up hurting you. My father won't approve. You're… you're not one of us. He'd never let things between us develop. He might even make you disappear. It happens.

“I know I'm not supposed to say things like that. I know they make me sound unhinged. But my father isn't…isn't a good man. He's ruthless. I wouldn't be surprised if my cell phone is bugged. He'll make me pay for what I've just told you. Please…Please, Cooper...just walk away. Sorry… I mean, not walk….You know what I mean." Finally she broke down completely, sobbing into the phone.

The wisest thing to do was to hang up. She shouldn't be putting on such a hysterical display in front of someone she barely knew. But couldn't bring herself to pressed the red button.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he said hoarsely.

God, he was stubborn. What else could she throw at him to make him realise she wasn't worth knowing? There were so many things, she didn't know where to start. But in the end, all she could do was sniff and shake her head.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he repeated, his voice wobbling dangerously close to tears, too.

"I…I can't," she finally got out, unable to withstand him any longer.

"Then meet me. Now. Right now. I'll come to your place. I can be there in…" he paused, "half an hour. I can meet you in half an hour. I'd throw pebbles at your window, or climb the tree next to it, whatever damn foolish romantic gesture I could come up with, but wheelchairs make a person pragmatic by necessity. I can't do those things. So meet me at my Toyota Sienna. It's a silver mini-van. I'll be outside your front gates in half an hour."