Discovering You (25 page)

“I didn't kill anyone,” he said.

That he could make such a claim to
her
, of all people, was enraging. He was so careless, so indifferent to the suffering he'd caused and the precious life he'd taken.

Her anger ballooned like a sudden wind filling a sail. “Yes, you did,” she nearly screamed. “No matter what you said in court, no matter what you say now, I
saw
you shoot him. You and I both
know
what you did.”

“Come on. Don't be like that. Let's not talk about that night. I feel as bad about it as you do! I wish it'd never happened.”

So now he admitted it? Dirty liar... “What is that supposed to mean? Am I just supposed to
forget
?”

He lowered his voice. “If I remember right, there were parts of that night you enjoyed as much as I did. But
I
didn't share those details in court.”

She covered her mouth as the bile rose in her throat. “Only because it didn't serve your purposes. And I didn't enjoy any of it,” she said. “My skin crawled every second you touched me. You murdered my husband, and when you took his life, you ruined mine.”

“Look, I'm worried about you,” he said. “You need to calm down.”

“I'll do exactly as I please! You have no control over me!” she yelled. “I'll never allow you to have control again.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

She slid down the wall, no longer able to bear up under the heartache of the past year. What had started as an excuse to contact him in case he'd gotten into some conflict with Rod was quickly turning into an honest outpouring of her grief and misery. “You killed him!” she moaned. “You shot the man I loved right in front of me!”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said. “But like I said before, I don't want to talk about it over the phone. Tell me where you are. I'll come get you, take care of you, make it better.”

“You can't make
anything
better. You can't even run your own life!”

“India, where are you?” he asked again.

“Where are
you
?”

“Home, where I belong.”

“Alone?”

After another brief silence, he said, “Don't tell me you're jealous.”

“I just want to know if you're alone!”

“I'll be alone, if that's what it takes to get you back. I'll do anything.”

Oh, God... “Home isn't where you belong. You belong in prison.”

“And you tried to put me there. I hurt you, and you paid me back. I'm willing to forgive and forget if you are.”

“As if you have any reason to forgive
me
! I was trying to help you!”

“At least I acted out of love. You have to understand that.”

She started to laugh. “Out of
love
. You acted out of love. You're as crazy as I thought.”

“Crazy enough to still want you,” he said as though that would flatter or sway her. “Let's meet up and talk, put all of this behind us.”

“Never!”
she said and disconnected. She was about to call the police. That conversation with Sebastian hadn't told her anything she didn't already know—that he had no idea what he'd cost her or the rest of the world. But while she was drying her eyes, she finally received a text from Rod.

I'm fine. Be there soon.

With a whimper she couldn't choke back, she dropped her head onto her knees.

She was still crying when he came through the door, couldn't seem to stop, but she didn't give him much of a chance to say anything about it. Getting up the second she laid eyes on him, she grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him to her. Then she kissed him long and deep.

“Where have you been?” she asked, but as soon as those words were out of her mouth, she was running her fingers through his hair and kissing him again.

The taste and feel of him was pure relief. And desire. And...she didn't know what else. Too many emotions were racing through her to define them all. He was alive and well. She had him back. “I'm so glad you're safe,” she mumbled against his lips. “I was freaking out.”

He wiped her tears. “Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to scare you,” he said. “But I won't lie—I like that you're so happy to see me.” When he picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to the bed, where he fell on top of her.

“Don't go over there again,” she said. “
Ever.
I don't care what our plan was. Let's throw it out. He's a total psychopath.”

“We'll talk about it later. No need to blow what we have going right now.”

She would've laughed at the way he could so quickly and easily separate the stress and danger from the desire, except that her feelings were too intense for laughter. The desperation she'd felt while he was gone lingered, making every second she held him seem like a moment stolen from time. “You've been up all night. You're not too tired?”

“I'm exhausted, but I could never be too tired for this.”

She slipped off his shirt and licked the warm skin of his muscular chest. “You taste good. Every inch of you tastes good, and you feel even better.”

He clasped her chin while he gazed down at her. Something about that look felt significant. She was pretty sure they were diving into a deeper level of intimacy than she could maintain. But she refused to think about that, or the consequences, whatever they might be. She was so badly shaken. The only way she could be significantly reassured was to hold Rod as tightly as possible. To cling to him while he moved inside her. To feel his heart pounding against hers and hear his breathing turn ragged as their lovemaking grew more intense. Losing herself in his touch meant she didn't have to think of anything or anyone else. As he kissed her again, she slid her hands down to grip his ass and pull the bulge in his pants more tightly against her.

She craved raw passion. Only that seemed powerful enough to erase everything else. But this kiss wasn't hungry as much as it was achingly sweet, and that nearly undid her. Why did she have to feel more than the simple pleasure of his touch?

“Take me hard and fast,” she murmured.

“Why the rush?” he asked. “Why not take time to enjoy it?”

“I feel like I'll die if I can't be with you right now,” she whispered, but that was before she could think, could filter her words. Not only did that statement sound over the top, it implied a greater commitment than she could promise, especially at this precarious point in her life.

Everything was so uncertain.

But that seemed to be what he wanted to hear. His expression showed fresh purpose when he pulled off her clothes.

22

R
od could feel India's wedding ring the whole time they made love. He tried to avoid thinking about it, even noticing it, but whenever her fingers slid between his or she ran her left hand over his body, there it was, a constant reminder.

Her ring had never bothered him quite this much. He'd figured she'd take it off when she was ready. There was no need to rush her; she'd been through so much. But he was beginning to care a great deal more for her than he had any other woman, and that was making him reluctant to share her, even with a ghost. He was so focused when he made love to her. He could see that he was acting as if he had something to prove, as if he was trying to outdistance the competition.

He needed her to care enough that she couldn't deny her feelings. Needed to feel she wouldn't let him down in the end. Somehow she'd managed to slip beneath his defenses when no one else could, and now he was vulnerable in a way he'd never been vulnerable before.

When they were finished, he dropped down beside her, heart pounding, short of breath. That was when the exhaustion he'd felt on the drive home hit him again.

“What happened tonight?” India asked.

“For the most part, a whole lot of nothing,” he replied. “Until I decided to go over to Sebastian's house and have a look around.”

Her hair tumbled forward as she shoved herself up on one elbow. “Why would you take that kind of risk? Don't you believe me that he's dangerous?”

“I believe he
can
be dangerous, which is different from being dangerous all the time. I had my eyes open. I felt we needed to have something to show for tonight—to make some progress. I won't allow this asshole to hold our lives hostage indefinitely. If we could just establish that there's no gun in the house, we could at least cross that off our list.”

“The police checked the house when they searched, Rod.”

“He could've hidden it somewhere other than the house and brought it back. Or he could have another gun. That would be good to know, too, wouldn't it?”

With a troubled sigh, she rolled onto her back.

“What?”

“I'm mad at you,” she said.

“Because I was trying to help?”

“Because you could've been hurt!”

“Come here.” He pulled her close and kissed her temple. “I wanted to see what I could find, figure out what Sheila's like, just...get closer. Gain some sort of advantage or create an opportunity. You understand that, right? Winning at what we're doing takes information as much as anything else.”

“But you don't seem to be scared!”

He chuckled. “I'm
not
scared.” He had been that one moment, when he realized Sebastian was home. If not for the phone call Sebastian had received, which took his attention precisely when Rod needed that to happen, he might not have been able to get out of the house. As it was, he'd worried that Sebastian would hear the back door open and close and come after him.

Fortunately, he got away without incident.

“You should be,” she said, unwilling to back down.

“Would you like to hear about my adventure or not?” he asked.

She cast him a sullen glance, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Of course I do.”

“Fine, then. For your information, I managed to get inside the house. And I feel it was worth the effort.”

She sat up. “No way! You went
inside
?”

“I was after something we could work with, and I think I may have found it.”

That minimized her outrage. “Really?”

“Really.” Holding sleep at bay a little longer, he explained how he'd climbed in through Van's window and ended up waking the boy.

“Sheila's son
saw
you?”

Learning that almost set her off again. Rod could understand why she'd assume it wasn't good news, but he didn't think meeting the boy would be an obstacle. “Van's her nephew, not her son, and it was dark, so he couldn't see me clearly.”

“There's still your voice. Your smell and size. Your cast.
I
would know you in an instant.”

“You've had sex with me,” he said.

“It's not just that. You have a certain presence. You stand out. People remember you.”

“He's a kid.”

“Which means he must've been terrified. You don't think that'll
make
him remember?”

“He was just waking up from a dead sleep. And he wasn't half as frightened as a regular child would be. I'd say he's more frightened of the adults he lives with than he was of me.”

She drew her legs closer to her body. “That's sad.”

“I couldn't help feeling sorry for him,” he agreed and went on to tell her what had happened and what he thought he'd heard Van say about the night Charlie died.

She interrupted the story at that point. “Whoa, wait a minute. He told you he was
coached
to say Sebastian was home that night?”

“That's what it sounded like to me. But he was mumbling and wouldn't repeat himself.”

“Can we get him to repeat himself to Detective Flores? Get him to tell the truth?”

Rod considered the situation from Van's standpoint. “Right away? I doubt it. What's in it for him, except being punished? He's terrified of Sheila
and
Sebastian. Doesn't like Eddie, either. I got the impression the adults in his life don't treat him like they should.”

“I'm so sorry about that. But if we put Sebastian away, he won't be able to hurt Van—or anyone else.”

“That still leaves Sheila and probably Eddie.”

“I would never purposely put a child in a bad situation. But Van knows the truth! And he wants to talk or he wouldn't have said what he did. He can tell everyone that Sebastian wasn't at home the night Charlie was killed!”

Rod was afraid he might've gotten her hopes up a little
too
high. Even if Van knew something that could help, getting that information out of him would be tricky—especially since Rod would also want to protect him as much as possible. “Sounded like it.”

“Then he
has
to talk,” she said. “The fact that he was told to lie should convince a jury, shouldn't it?”

“It lends support to your version of events. But a child's word won't be enough to make the DA charge Sebastian again,” Rod said.

“I thought you were excited by what you'd uncovered.”

“I
am
excited. But we have to be realistic. My mind's taking a different direction where Van's concerned.”

“Which direction would that be?”

“We need physical proof. Forensic proof. Something that can't be refuted.”

“Yes...”

He tugged on her hand to urge her to lie back down. “What if Van can tell us what Sebastian did with the gun?”

She took a few seconds to think that over. Then she said, “Why would Sebastian ever trust a boy with that information?”

“He wouldn't. But Van has to have heard a lot, living in that house—if not from Sebastian, then from Sheila or even Eddie. He's so young I doubt they pay any attention to what they say in front of him, especially if they're high.”

“Did you ask Van about the gun?”

“I couldn't. Not yet. If I ask too soon, he'll just get defensive. Then he may never tell me. I need to spend more time with him, earn his trust.”

“How are you going to do that?”

He ran his fingers through her long, silky hair. “By befriending Sebastian.”

“But Van's the person you
really
want to get to know?”

“Why not? I believe I stand to learn more from him. Children trust sooner and, like you said, Van wants to talk.”

She rested her cheek on her hands as she stared at him.

“So am I forgiven for scaring you?” he asked.

She didn't answer his question. “I have something to tell you, too,” she said.

This came as a surprise. “What's that?”

“I called Sebastian tonight.”

A jolt of adrenaline shot through him. “You
what
?”

“I thought he had you. I felt I needed to...to interrupt him, to see if I could find out anything, to stop what I feared was happening.”

“Shit, India. I don't want you having
any
contact with him.”

“It's not like I
wanted
to call him! I panicked. I didn't know what else to do.”

“You didn't ask him about
me
, did you?”

“No. Of course not.”

He remembered how he'd found her, crying on the floor when he walked in, and realized how frightened she'd been. It had taken real courage to make that call—and it didn't escape him that without her, he might not have made it out of Sebastian's house as easily as he had. Her call had to be the one that'd distracted Sebastian. “I'm sorry I put you through that. I know how hard it must've been to hear his voice.”

She pulled up the sheet. “I've never felt such hate. I don't want to feel that way anymore. It'll only make me bitter. But...I can't seem to let it go.”

“You will, in time,” he promised. “It's just too close right now.”

They said nothing, just continued to stare at each other—until she broke the silence. “Why are you helping me?” she asked.

He considered all the things he could say but decided to keep his personal feelings out of it. “Because you need it.”

“I appreciate everything you're doing. I hope you know that. But...I need you to be careful, Rod. I couldn't take it if...if I was responsible for someone else getting hurt.”

“You're not responsible for me, India. I've told you that before. I'm making my own decisions, okay?” He'd been planning to tell her about his almost-encounter with Sebastian, but her worry changed his mind. Knowing he'd had such a close call, and that only her interruption had made it possible for him to get out of Sebastian's house, would upset her.

“What'd he say to you?” he asked.

“Not much,” she said with a frown. “I didn't really give him the chance. I completely lost it. You saw me when you walked in. I was so afraid he'd hurt you. That's all I could think about. And then the pain and anger from before sort of...rose up and took over.”

“How'd he react?”

“Said he still wanted me. That we should forgive each other.”

She was hard to get over. Rod wondered if he might be the one missing her and wanting her back someday. “Unbelievable.”

“He doesn't seem to care about what he did. Killing Charlie means no more to him than if he'd swatted a fly.”

“We'll get justice for Charlie—and for you,” Rod said. “Then you'll be able to move ahead without looking back.”

“I hope so,” she whispered, but he could tell she was having trouble believing in that dream.

“I promise.” He took her hand and, as he threaded his fingers through hers, tried to steer her mind elsewhere, so she wouldn't continue to worry. “Are we going to see Cassia tomorrow?”

“Rod...”

“Fine. Are
you
going to see her?”

She hesitated, obviously tempted. “Charlie's parents won't like it if I show up without any warning.”

“Do you care that they won't like it?”

“Might be better to wait until we get this settled.”

“Why? Then, if this ever does come down to a custody battle, they can claim you showed no interest. That you didn't visit her once while she was at their house.”

“They wouldn't do that.”

He slid one finger down her shoulder and over one breast. “Are you sure?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Then go see your little girl, regardless of whether they like it. And call her as often as you want.”

She'd seemed so remote since they'd had sex that he was almost surprised when she snuggled close. “Don't let me fall in love with you,” she whispered.

* * *

As India had anticipated, returning to San Francisco wasn't easy. What had happened in the city was simply too heartbreaking.

But Rod had a valid point. As vulnerable and rattled as she was, she couldn't allow her in-laws to intimidate her, to make her feel she couldn't see her own child. Just because she'd been nice enough to let them take Cassia didn't mean she'd also agreed to stay away. Visitation hadn't even been discussed, because India had never thought it would be a problem. Once the trial was over and Sebastian was put away, she'd expected her situation to improve.

Rod had come with her, although they'd taken her car and she was at the wheel, since she was familiar with where they needed to go. He'd said he wanted to spend the day with her, see where she'd lived, but she suspected he was just trying to make it easier for her to drive across the Bay Bridge and enter what she now deemed hostile territory. While there was still a small part of her that loved the city and would've enjoyed sharing it with him, her recent history in this place filled her with dread. She hadn't left her home all that long ago; the memories here were so fresh and disturbing.

“
This
was your home?” he said as she stopped at the curb in front of the house she'd bought with Charlie—the house where he'd been killed.

She nodded. A three-bedroom, one-bath Spanish Mediterranean, it had been built in 1931 with the expansive arched windows, hardwood floors and vaulted ceilings she loved. Although small, it had a fabulous view and wasn't far from West Portal Park, with all the shops and restaurants in that vicinity.

Whiskey Creek wasn't San Francisco, but it had its own sort of charm—at a fraction of the cost. She was holding out hope that she could make the transition. Whether she'd stay would depend a great deal on what happened in the next several months.