Familiar Strangers (2 page)

Blood poured down her face, stinging her eyes. “You will never have me, not in this life or any other,” she screamed. Ripping open the clasp at her cloak, Norah exposed the cameo, which hung from the velvet ribbon at her neck. “This is love and truth,” she said, clasping the necklace in her hand, “something you can never touch or shatter. It will never belong to you, just as I will never be yours. This is a symbol of everything you will never have and everything I’ve freely given Colin.”

Norah forced herself to ignore the pain slamming into her head when Rupert’s gaze fixed upon her neck. Launching herself straight at his face, she plunged the wooden weapon deep into his left eye. Before he could stop her from another attack, she pulled the branch out and made to plunge it again, but he deflected her aim, and the stick raked against the side of his cheek.

Dark blood gushed from his eye and the deep wound she’d made in his cheek, but Rupert was a man possessed. He didn’t cry out from his injuries or scream in pain. Instead, he squeezed her wrist, forcing her to drop the only weapon at her disposal.

Then Norah made the mistake of looking into his remaining eye. His face seemed to explode with anger.

Rupert grabbed her fingers holding the cameo and pried them away. “This is not a symbol of love but of betrayal.” Blood flowed in streaks down his cheek. “It will be a symbol of your death and everything I am taking from you.”

He snatched the ribbon from her neck while forcing her back to his chest. She struggled against him, but he seemed almost otherworldly, her nails having no effect, her struggles gaining her nothing.

He took the velvet, wrapped it around her neck, and tightened it until she could feel fabric pinching the delicate skin around her throat. This could not be how her life would end. She had made so many plans with Colin. The home they would make together, the children they would have, everything being denied her by the whim of a madman. No, not by a madman, she reminded herself, but by Colin. He never loved her, never truly wanted her. His prize would have been her father’s money and land. She was a convenient means to an end. Nothing more.

She cursed, using up her precious store of oxygen. Black dots danced before her eyes and her head burned with a strange heat.

No, she pleaded silently. Please, not this way.

Too late. She felt the weakening of her legs and arms. She had nothing left inside to fight with. The dots grew and merged until they filled her vision.

A white light appeared out of the rain, prompting her to move closer. The glow intensified until it eclipsed the darkness, sheltering her within a cocoon of safety and warmth. Like being placed in a protective bubble, her face no longer ached from the force of his blows, the burning in her lungs for life-giving oxygen now ebbed and the pain from her heart floated out on the wings of the wind.

Although she knew Colin’s words to be false and his heart closed, she had given herself to him. Even now, in light of his deceit, she couldn’t reclaim her heart and soul, for they had been given truly and without strings.

Colin.

Before the light completely surrounded her, Norah made one last conscious vow. “This is not over. Find me Colin, no matter the distance or time, find me. My love will guide you. Remember all we have shared. I’ll carry the pain of your betrayal and lies beyond my death. Upon my blood this I vow.” Gasping for air that did not come, she surrendered to the light.

Rupert felt the power and life draining from her body as he tightened the ribbon around her throat. There was an erotic fascination when he felt her struggles stop, caused by her life force abandoning the shell of her body. He could hear the hag chanting back in the woods. This is what he’d planned. If he couldn’t have Norah’s body, he would settle for stealing her soul.

What started as a tingle at his fingers quickly spread to his arms and chest. Yes, this is what he needed. Power and energy shocked his system and made him crave more from her. The transition was almost complete. Her soul had been almost totally immersed within the darkness of him.

Abruptly, the night was shattered by a crash of lighting over his head. The harsh white illuminated the night, the center seeming to enclose Norah in a shielding cocoon.

Rupert screeched in anger, feeling her life force ripped from him. He was losing her. It shouldn’t have been possible to lose what he’d already gained. “No!” he screamed into the night. “Damn you to an eternity in hell, Norah! You won’t win this. Your soul will be mine.”

Another burst of lighting cracked overhead, splitting the tree directly behind him. The wind picked up speed and strength, and rain poured from the sky. The heart of the storm seemed to force itself upon him.

He could remain here no longer. What power he had tried to steal from the woman lying dead in his arms was no longer his to take. Somehow she had managed to thwart him from beyond death.

The bond between the two lovers still existed.

Rising slowly to his feet, Rupert cautiously looked around. It was impossible to see anything beyond a few feet because of the pounding rain. He wanted to make sure there would be no witness on the morrow.

Walking away, he spared no second glance at Norah’s body. He’d failed to take what he had killed her for, but swore it would not end here. “I shall find you one day, my lady. Then I will take the very essence of your being and make it mine. Till that day, may you and your cursed lover forever remain beyond one another’s reach.”

He was swallowed into the darkness, never noticing the rain abating and winds calming the further he walked away. The landscape was now filled with great sadness. Not a branch moved or a leaf fluttered, as if the world mourned more than just the passing of a woman, but the death of innocence itself.

Present Day

There it was again. The female laughter trickled from somewhere to his right. For the past ten minutes, Galen Matthews had been subtly trying to locate the source. In a smoke-filled bar on a Friday night, narrowing down the source of his curiosity was impossible. His side trip to insanity grew more with every note of her husky laugh. The sound carried over the noise of the crowd and drew his attention away from the rowdy group celebrating around him. He couldn’t figure out why something as simple as a woman’s amusement made the breath catch in his throat and muscles tense in his body. The small hairs on his neck stood on end. Shivers traveled through his body. He forcefully repressed them, but they showed up as goose bumps lining the skin of his arms. A weird sense of déjà vu pricked at his mind.

He scanned the room, looking for the owner of the mysterious laugh and was more than shocked when he found her.

She was the opposite of everything he’d ever found desirable in a woman. She was tall, he preferred short. Her hair was dark. He loved blondes. Her clothes were worn with simple style, screaming class. His dates generally looked as if their clothes were sprayed on. Her worst offense, in his opinion, was the wire-framed glasses she wore perched on her nose. She looked smart. He didn’t mind smart, but with the rest of her put together, she was a lethal combination. The only thing worse than a woman who looked smart was one who was.

Those women brought trouble by the handful. He liked his women blonde and stacked. Intelligence not required. He didn’t need to talk with his dates. They both knew what the other was after. It was a silent, mutual agreement that worked out nicely for all parties involved.

He could tell by looking this woman was everything he didn’t want. Unfortunately, even with this knowledge, he couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to her. She sat at a group of tables filled with twenty or so other people. A good- looking blonde man in a pin-striped suit dropped beside her with a drink in hand. She seemed to be in the middle of telling a story and had captivated the attention of the entire group. His jaw clenched when the suit wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her close, pressing a kiss on her full lips.

His first reaction was to jump the table, crash his fist into the other man’s jaw, throw her over his shoulder, and demand to know what game she was playing. What the hell was she thinking, letting some man touch her while he was sitting there? Was this her attempt to make him jealous? How could she act this way when she knew he was watching?

His second reaction was to jump up, pull her in his arms, and never let her go. Finally, he found her after looking the world over. She was here.

He stopped himself as he hauled himself halfway out of his chair, wondering what the hell had come over him.

“Hey, Matthews,” yelled his second in command, Saber Troussant, “You going somewhere?”

He sat back down and waved a hand toward his companions. “No way. Not when Taco is buying the next round.” He didn’t want his men’s attention focused on him, his strange behavior, or the equally strange woman who captured his attention. “Just thought it was someone I knew.”

Mark “Taco” O’Banyon, his security expert, laughed. “Matthews, if you don’t know her, I sure would like to.”

“I don’t know her,” he answered. “Don’t want to, not my type.” He turned his gaze away from the table and back to his companions.

His friend laughed. “I’ll make her my type with legs like that.” He raised his eyebrows, giving her another complete appraisal.

Laughter accompanied the last statement and his men’s voices rose in chorus for another round, but Galen couldn’t help keeping her within his sight. She compelled him, forced him to think of things best left alone. Things he’d pushed away in the hidden corner of his heart. He had his reasons for guarding his heart. This woman wouldn’t get any closer than the rest to finding out those reasons. But still, one question raced through his mind.

Who the hell was she?

****

Regin Neff tried to ignore the tickle running across her shoulders and neck. She wanted badly to turn around and find the source that had been bothering her for the past half hour, but manners wouldn’t allow her attention to waver from the man speaking to her.

“So, naturally, I thought of you when I heard about fund raising for the new gallery, Regin,”

Jerry Willingham III said.
She’d lived in Killeen for six months and wrote some type of chick books. That was the extent he, or anyone, knew of her. Ambiguity about her and her life was the way she wanted things to be.

“Jerry, I’m leaving in two days remember?” she smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I know,” he replied. “I’m suggesting making a return trip from wherever you’re exiling yourself.”

She laughed and waved a hand, trying to dismiss the topic. “It’s no good. I’ll be up to my ears in work.” She turned and spoke with the man to her right, preventing Jerry from trying to further this conversation.

Regin wished the night would end. She was tired and had to finish closing up her house here and make sure the arrangements were taken care of in her new house. She trusted her editor and friend to have everything set up, but some things even Tatum couldn’t do for her.

She hated the feeling of someone watching her. The tickling feeling on the back of her neck sure suggested someone was. As casually as possible, she leaned back in her chair and scanned the room for the responsible party. Immediately, her gaze locked with an intense pair of startling silver eyes. The room faded to nothing around her.

Sharp pain pierced her heart. Betrayal, lies, heartbreak, stabbed into her mind. What was he doing here? How had he found her? No one could see them together.

She had to leave. Being this close brought emotions she couldn’t deal with.

The stranger’s eyes momentarily locked with hers, sending shock waves up her spine.

Too late. He knew she was here. She had to get up and walk out without him following her.

He wouldn’t be able to talk her into coming back. It was too late. Being with him would destroy her all over again.

She pushed her chair back with such force that it toppled to the ground behind her. She had her hand on her bag when she noticed everyone at the table staring as if she’d lost her mind.

Simon Walsh, her date for the evening, stood and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Regin, what’s wrong? You’ve gone as pale as a ghost, honey.”

Regin shook her head, trying to clear out the confusing thoughts and images flooding her brain. Why was she acting this way? She glanced at the man again, but he had turned back to his companions.

She didn’t know him that was for sure. She would remember someone with eyes like his. But the overwhelming feelings of unease and danger didn’t lessen.

What was the matter with her? Was she finally losing her sanity after all these years? “I’m sorry, Simon, I thought I saw someone I knew,” she sat back down in the chair Jerry had straightened for her and shot her date a smile. “I must need a vacation more than I thought. Would you mind if we left now, please?”

Though she was making her way out of the bar and would never see the stranger again, her mind kept repeating the same question.

Who the hell was he?

****

An hour later, she was finally able to close the door behind a disappointed Simon. Regin needed to talk with Tatum and see where her favorite editor had set up her next living arrangement. Her life was almost like a game, never knowing where she would be six month from now.
Mastering her living arrangements was one of the reasons she was so grateful for Tatum James Renoir. As her editor and friend, Tatum took care of all the details Regin hated. Tatum always found her a new location with everything she needed to write and relax.

Relaxation. Funny how foreign the word seemed even now. It had taken years before she could sleep through the night without waking up screaming. She still needed the additional precautions of alarms, a nightlight, a gun, and her trusty secret weapon, Annie, named for her favorite character in Where the Red Ferns Grows. The dog was a mixed breed mongrel the size of a small truck and made living alone easier. The dog had been a gift from Tatum and her husband eight months ago, and it had been love at first sight for both of them.

Tatum had taken her under her wing when Regin signed on with OceanTide Publishing House. In order for Regin to work, she needed to be mobile and not trapped in the same city for longer than four to six months. Regin had taken her new friend into her confidence in order to explain her bizarre behavior and the reasons behind it.

The apartment faded into nothing as memories and fear crowded into her mind of that long ago day.

****


Regin felt the sweat that had gathered on her palms as she nervously wiped them on her faded jeans. She looked into Tatum’s expectant face knowing she’d have to tell her editor something, but finding the courage to open her mouth and begin was harder than she expected. She took a deep breath and let Tatum into her own personal hell.
“Tatum, did you ever hear about the Bow-Tie Strangler?”
“Yeah, that was about seven years ago right? It was all over the papers. He killed, like, six women, didn’t he?”

Regin took a deep breath. “Almost seven.”

Tatum’s eyes went wide as her face grew pale. “Holy shit, are you telling me you were the seventh?”

“I was his seventh choice, yes.”

“But...how...when...shit, Regin. Are you okay?” It was a ridiculous question, they both knew, but it was the only complete thought coming out of the other woman’s mouth. “Never mind, I know you’re okay... you’re standing in front of me. What happened?”

Regin turned her back and pretended to look out the window. “It was dumb on my part. I didn’t take the advice everyone hears about being on a college campus—don’t walk alone, especially at night. But I was strong and smart and thought no one would bother me. Little did I know...”

The nightmare started seven years ago, when Regin was a senior at the University of Houston. She was finishing her last semester and looked forward to her first vacation in years before starting a job in New York. It had taken only two years to complete high school, taking classes during summer and after school. She applied the same determination when she hit U of H at the tender age of fifteen.

The night before graduation her world came tumbling down. The Bow-Tie Strangler, as the press had dubbed him, struck Houston with a vengeance. Being all of seventeen, she dismissed the words of advice and cautions for safety as she left a friend’s dorm to make the short walk back to her room.
Her head was so far in the clouds, she never saw him coming.
He crept up quietly behind her and had his arm around her throat before she could do more than make a noise of protest. “Make one wrong move or try to scream and I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear,” he hissed wetly.

The bulk of his body pressed against her back. He had to be at least six feet tall and outweighed her by fifty pounds. It would amaze her later, when she was asked to recall the details, how much she picked up and remembered in the few moments her life hung in balance.

She felt his arm tighten around her neck as he pulled her toward the bushes off the lighted path she’d been following.

Struggle. She had to struggle. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be alive to receive her diploma tomorrow. Trying to gasp air through a constricted throat that was being nicked by the knife he held securely there, she quickly took stock of her surroundings and situation. What she saw gave little hope of being rescued. It was well past midnight and most of the campus residents were either celebrating tomorrow’s ceremony or had taken off to start their vacations. No one was going to come to her rescue.

Regin could smell the sweat and stench pouring off him. His breath was moist against her ear as he began to whisper. “You’re gonna love this, Regin!” he assured her as he continued to pull her away from the lighted path. “I’ve been watching you for weeks. I almost took you before, but he told me it wasn’t the right time. It is now, though, and you’re going to be mine the way you were always meant to be.” He stumbled over some tree roots hidden in the dark, he was so eager to pull her into.

She felt his grip on the knife at her throat slacken. It was now or never. With a hard tug, she managed to loosen the arm wrapped around her throat while thrusting her elbow straight into his stomach. With a quick spin she turned around, she brought her right foot up into his groin. He dropped his arm and fell to the ground, grabbing his wounded parts. She wasted no time racing back toward the light, screaming for help at the top of her lungs.

She had almost reached the quad where the night security guard was stationed when he grabbed her again. “Bitch,” he hissed, wheezing from the blow. “You’re gonna pay for that.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a red velvet ribbon, and then started to encircle her neck.

She raked her nails down his arms trying to pull the material away from her throat. She was fast losing oxygen and the fight. She had to hold on, had to do something to buy just a few more minutes until the guard came back from his rounds. She kicked her feet back and tried to slam her head back into his. She felt a moment of pleasure hearing his grunt of pain as one of her blows successfully landed.