Deadly Deception (6 page)

Love. Right. Like she still loved him. Hell, he’d spent the past two years wondering if she ever had. He just couldn’t understand why she’d reacted so violently in the hospital if she’d had any kind of love for him. And morphine or not, she hadn’t faked the hurt he’d seen in her eyes… Or had it been fear? Either way, he’d left, and now he didn’t have a clue how to make his way back. He slammed his hand on the bed, wishing he could just say what he wanted to say to her, when her scream rattled the walls.

The sudden noise spooked him and he tossed the blankets aside, grabbing his gun off the side table as he rushed the door. He stopped, fisting the handle before cracking it open. He scanned the hallway then darted through, heading for her door. Her voice sounded again, words he couldn’t quite make out, and he had to fight the urge to storm into her room, knowing if she was fighting an intruder, being careless could bloody well get her killed.

He halted at her door, pressing his ear against it. Mumbled words and squeaks drifted through. He took a deep breath and threw open the door, barging into the room with his gun tight in his hand. He cleared the area, checking the closet and bathroom before running over to her bed. She thrashed on the mattress, sweat beading her brow as her hands twisted in the sheets. Another ungodly scream vibrated through the room, and he reached forward, shaking her arm.

Her eyelids flew open, but she didn’t stop fighting. She looked at him, glassy-eyed, fear making her pupils larger than usual.

“Mallory!”

She pulled against his hold, trying to roll across the bed. “No! Please.”

“It’s okay, darling. You’re just dreaming. Wake up!”

She yanked her arm away, reaching for the opposite bedpost. He swore under his breath and jumped on the bed, pinning her in place as he held her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

“I won’t tell Mommy, just please, Daddy, don’t!”

Her words sent a cold shiver down his spine and he shook her again, fear beading his flesh with goose bumps. “Damn it, Mallory. Wake up!”

His voice echoed in the room and for a moment she stopped fighting, staring at him in utter confusion. Then she blinked and swung her head from side to side, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Her ragged pants filled the air and he couldn’t do anything other than sit there, his legs straddling hers, his hands gripping her shoulders.

She sobbed twice then looked up at him, tears gathered behind her blue eyes. “Please. Sawyer. Get off me.”

Though she’d barely whispered the request, it hit him full force. He stared at her for a second then nodded, shifting his weight so she could climb out from under him. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white. She gave him a parting glance then stood up, rushing from the room without looking back.

Sawyer stared at the empty space below him, wondering what in the hell was going on, before shuffling off the bed and following her out. He stalked down the hallway, drawn to the sound of glass clanking in the living room. He stopped at the entrance, watching as she tipped a bottle of whisky into a small glass, her hands shaking so badly half of it spilled along the top of the bar. She didn’t seem to notice as she lifted the glass to her lips and downed the liquid in one gulp. Then she poured another, repeating the process until she’d consumed three shots.

She paused on the fourth, closing her eyes as if just now feeling the effects of the drink. Sawyer leaned against the wall, one eyebrow raised in question as she turned, her gaze meeting his across the dark room.

She lowered the bottle, taking only a sip of the whisky before placing the glass on the bar. Her body trembled despite the way she tried to draw herself up, raising her chin in defiance. “Don’t start with me, Sawyer. I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Four shots in thirty seconds. Nope, no worries there.”

She glared at him, finishing off the last of her shot as if proving her point. “It was called for.”

He straightened, walking into the centre of the room. “Why? So you could numb yourself and not have to deal with what the hell just happened in there?”

“I am dealing with it.”

Sawyer pointed at the bottle. “No, you’re drowning it. There’s a difference.” He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “You know, Cole mentioned something about you living on whisky shots and long naps. I thought he was joking, but apparently not.” He took a step closer. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

She met his gaze with a look of pure fury. “I had a nightmare.”

“No shit.”

She huffed, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers. “I’m just wired with the new case and all this bullshit about Davies mocking us from beyond the grave. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, and this had nothing to do with Davies, unless you’re into some kind of kink I’m unaware of.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just begged your father to stop…so unless you’ve suddenly started calling men
Daddy
this isn’t about Davies or any other creep you’ve put behind bars.” He gentled his tone, making his way over to the bar. “I think there’s something you need to tell me.”

Fear creased the fine lines around her eyes. She glanced away then dodged to her right as she tried to dart past him.

He caught her arm, careful not to hurt her as he pulled her back, forcing her to look at him. “Mallory. We were partners for years. Lovers for ten months. I need to know.”

She shook her head, trying to pull herself free. “No. You don’t. It’s like you said. It has nothing to do with the case so…just let it go.”

“And watch it eat you alive? No. Whatever it is, you won’t heal from it until you embrace it. And you do that by telling me what the fuck your father did to you to make you scream out in terror.”

She sobbed again, snagging her bottom lip as if hoping it would give her strength. He eased his hold, letting her lean against the edge of the couch as he copied her stance against the bar.

He ran a finger down her chin, wiping the tears that had trailed down her cheek. “Darling. Please. Talk to me. I know you grew up in foster care, so I’d assumed your parents were both dead, seeing as you never mentioned them. I’m starting to think that assumption was premature.”

She huffed, finally raising her face to look at him. “Oh, no, my father’s dead. Has been for twenty years.”

“What about your mother?”

Shame bunched the muscles in her shoulders and she glanced away again, a heavy sigh marking the silence between them. “She’s alive.”

“Does she live in Seattle?”

She chuckled. “In a matter of speaking.” She turned back to him. “She’s in the Washington Correctional Center, serving a life sentence for murder.”

Sawyer swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if he really wanted to hear the story. Something warned him that he was about to get more than he’d bargained for. “Shall I assume she killed your father?”

“That would be a correct assumption.” Mallory sighed again, easing more weight onto the arm of the sofa. “You really don’t want to hear this.”

“But I think you really need to tell me.”

She simply nodded, looking at the floor again. “My father was a drunken, abusive bastard who took great pleasure in making my mother’s life a living hell. From the time they got married, he beat her…at least that’s what she told me. She never wanted kids but…let’s just say sex wasn’t something she had a choice over. By the time I was ten, I’d lost count of the number of mornings I’d walked into the kitchen and found her passed out on the floor, blood all over her. But he’d never touched me. Had never raised a finger to me.”

“But that changed.”

She raised her gaze to his, quirking one side of her mouth. “One night he was crazier than usual, and when I tried to help my mom get to the bathroom once he’d finished punching her, he hit me.” She paused, clenching her jaw. “More than a few times. I don’t remember much, but I do remember hearing my mother scream at him that if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.”

She stopped, taking a few deep breaths.

Sawyer watched her fidget, wondering why in the hell he’d never asked her about her family before. “I’m assuming your father didn’t heed your mother’s warning.”

“Everything was quiet for a while. I guess my dad believed her because he didn’t hit me again…until the day he lost his job. He went on some bender, got drunker than usual, and came home swinging. I hid in my bedroom but…”

“But he found you.”

She laughed, though it was hollow. “Not too many places to hide. All I remember is him pinning me to the bed, slapping me, ripping at my clothes, calling me a worthless whore, when my mother appeared behind him. She lifted her arm and that was it. I don’t know how many times she stabbed him. I suppose until he stopped moving. Sometimes I look in the mirror and still see all that blood.”

She stopped and stared at her hands. Something twisted in Sawyer’s gut and he didn’t know whether to hold her or punch a hole in the wall.

He reached for her hands, thankful when she didn’t pull away. “Did she ever try to leave him?”

Her shoulders hunched more and he knew he wasn’t going to like what she said next.

“Not once. She’d grown up believing in the sanctity of marriage, and truly believed it was a sin to leave him.”

“Makes you wonder why she agreed to marry him in the first place, though I suppose he didn’t start hitting her until after they were married.”

Mallory shook her head, pulling her hands free as she stood up and walked to the fireplace centred on the far wall. “Oh, no. She knew the kind of man he was. But…”

“But what? Surely she didn’t think she could change him?”

She looked over at him, pain clear in her eyes. “Sawyer…you really don’t need to know this.”

Her sudden reluctance sent more shivers snaking down his spine, but he wasn’t about to let her stop now. “On the contrary. I think this is the part I need to hear the most.”

Mallory pursed her lips, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere, but there. She forcefully swallowed, bracing one hand on the mantel. “She didn’t have a choice. They’d been dating for a while, but after the first time he hit her, she broke it off. I guess my dad wasn’t one to take no for an answer. He arranged a meeting, drugged her and drove to Las Vegas. I don’t know what kind of drug he used, or where he took her, or how he even got someone to agree to the ceremony, but when she finally came back to her senses, they were married, and she was damned no matter what she did.”

The words struck him as surely as if it’d been a physical blow. He pushed off the bar and stalked across the room, punching the top of the couch as he walked by. God. How had he found the one horror in her past and brought it to life?

He turned back to her, anger and shame fighting for dominance. “Fuck, Mallory. Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“Don’t you think I wanted to? But damn it, Sawyer. It’s not the kind of thing that comes up. Besides, would you want to tell everyone about your family if that’s all you had to say?”

“I’m not
everyone
, and you could have just blurted it out one night. Fuck!” He stomped around the room again, not sure whether to scream or curse. “That’s why you freaked out in the hospital. Damn it, I’m a fucking fool.”

“I honestly don’t remember anything that happened the day of the stabbing, or what followed at the hospital before you left.”

“Well, I remember and I can assure you, you weren’t pleased. In fact, you were terrified.”

He sighed and finally sank down on the sofa, palming his head in his hands. The cushion dipped beside him and her small hand touched his thigh. He turned his head, knowing there was more to say but unable to get any of the words out.

She patted his thigh once before standing again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You’re right. You deserved to know.”

He leant back, holding her gaze. “Just tell me this. With everything that happened to your mother, why didn’t you get our marriage annulled or petition for a divorce? Hell, after the way you reacted, I would have given you either.”

Her expression sobered as her lips pulled tight. “How do you divorce the only man you know you’ll ever love? You were the one, Sawyer.” She paused, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to continue or not. Then she sighed, smiling at him again. “You still are. I couldn’t, so I just waited for you to take the initiative, but you never did either and…” She took a few steps back, crossing her arms on her chest. “I’m sorry I woke you. But you really should try to get some sleep. One of us should be coherent tomorrow, and I seriously doubt it’ll be me. I’ll watch some television until I drift off. The nightmares don’t usually come back.”

She headed for the other end of the room when he vaulted off the couch, dashing across the room and pinning her to the wall before she could do more than gasp. Her chest pressed against his as her breath came in heavy pants, her lips dangerously close to his. He trapped her between his arms, keeping them on either side of her head as he lowered his face, brushing his mouth across hers.

“Do you honestly think I’m going back to bed after a confession like that? You know me better than that, darling. And considering we’re still legally married…I don’t see any reason I shouldn’t take you to bed.” He nipped at her lower lip this time, smiling at the raw rasp that rumbled between them. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away. For good this time.”

She drew a shaky breath, licking her lip when he released it. Her gaze searched his face before a small smile lifted the edges of her mouth. “I can’t do that. It’d be a lie.”

“In that case, I suggest you take a deep breath, because it’s about time we consummated this marriage.”

Chapter Four

Sawyer gave her just enough time to anticipate his move before leaning forward and claiming her mouth. Her lips moulded to his, soft and smooth, as he savoured the feel of her skin against his. He didn’t rush, despite the urgent need throbbing through him, making his cock feel like a brand against his stomach. But after everything he’d heard, he knew she needed something more than a hot fuck against the wall.