Heartbreaker (24 page)

It infuriated him that he couldn't do
anything except wait for Andy to get back to him. Even then, it might be a dead
end. But if Beckman was anywhere in the area, John intended to pay him a visit
and make damned certain he never contacted Michelle again.

Michelle bolted upright in bed, her eyes wide
and her face chalky. Beside her, John stirred restlessly and reached for her,
but didn't awaken. She lay back down, taking comfort in his nearness, but both
her mind and her heart were racing.

It was Roger.

Roger had been driving the blue Chevrolet.
Roger had tried to kill her. He wasn't in France at all, but here in Florida,
biding his time and waiting to catch her out alone. She remembered the feeling
she had had before the accident, as if someone were watching her with vile
malice, the same feeling the phone calls had given her. She should have tied it
all together before.

He'd found out about John. Michelle even knew
how he'd found out. Bitsy Sumner, the woman she and John had met in Tampa when
they'd gone down to have the deed drawn up, was the worst gossip in Palm Beach.
It wouldn't have taken long for the news to work its way up to Philadelphia
that Michelle Cabot was very snuggly with an absolute
hunk
, a
gorgeous, macho rancher with bedroom eyes that made Bitsy feel so
warm
.
Michelle could almost hear Bitsy on the telephone, embroidering her tale and
laughing wickedly as she speculated about the sexy rancher.

Roger had probably convinced himself that
Michelle would come back to him; she could still hear him whispering how much
he loved her, that he'd make it up to her and show her how good it could be
between them. He would have gone into a jealous rage when he found out about
John. At last he had known who the other man was, confirming the suspicions he'd
had all along.

His mind must have snapped completely. She
remembered what he'd said the last time he had called: "How could you do
this to me?"

She felt trapped, panicked by the thought
that he was out there somewhere, patiently waiting to catch her alone. She
couldn't go to the police; she had no evidence, only her intuition, and people
weren't arrested on intuition. Besides, she didn't put a lot of faith in the
police. Roger's parents had bought them off in Philadelphia, and now Roger
controlled all those enormous assets. He had unlimited funds at his disposal;
who knew what he could buy? He might even have hired someone, in which case she
had no idea who to be on guard against.

Finally she managed to go to sleep, but the
knowledge that Roger was nearby ate at her during the next few days, disturbing
her rest and stealing her appetite away. Despite the people around her, she
felt horribly alone.

She wanted to talk to John about it, but
bitter experience made her remain silent. How could she talk to him when he
didn't believe her about the phone calls or the accident? He had hooked a tape
recorder up to the telephone, but he hadn't discussed it with her, and she
hadn't asked any questions. She didn't want to know about it if he were only
humoring her. Things had become stilted between them since the last time Roger
had called, and she felt even less able to approach him than she had before.
Only in bed were things the same; she had begun to fear that he was tiring of
her, but he didn't seem tired of her in bed.

His lovemaking was still as hungry and
frequent as before.

Abruptly, on a hot, sunny morning, she
couldn't stand it any longer. She had been pushed so far that she had reached
her limit Even a rabbit will turn and fight when it's cornered. She was tired
of it all, so tired that she sometimes felt she was dragging herself through
water. Damn Roger! What did she have to do to get him out of her life? There
had to be something. She couldn't spend the rest of her days peering around
every corner, too terrified to even go to a grocery store. It made her angry
when she thought how she had let him confine her as surely as if he'd locked
her in a prison, and beginning today she was going to do something about it.

She still had the file that had won her a
divorce; now that his parents were dead the file didn't mean as much, but it
still meant something. It was documented proof that Roger had attacked her once
before. If he would only call again, she would have his call on tape, and
perhaps she could get him to say something damaging. This was Florida, not
Philadelphia; that much money would always be influential, but down here he
wouldn't have the network of old family friends to protect him.

But the file was in the safe at her house,
and she wanted it in her possession, at John's. She didn't feel secure leaving
it in an empty house, even though she kept the door locked. The house could
easily be broken into, and the safe was a normal household one; she doubted
whether it would prove to be all that secure if anyone truly wanted to open it.
If Roger somehow got the file, she'd have no proof at all. Those photographs
and records couldn't be replaced.

Making up her mind, she told Edie she was
going riding and ran out to the stables. It was a pleasant ride across the
pastures to her ranch, but she didn't enjoy it as she normally would have,
because of the knot of tension forming in her stomach. Roger had seen her the
last time she'd been there, and she couldn't forget the terror she'd felt when
she'd seen the blue Chevrolet bearing down on her.

She approached the house from the rear,
looking around uneasily as she slid off the horse, but everything was normal.
The birds in the trees were singing. Quickly she checked all the doors and
windows, but they all seemed tight, with no signs of forced entry. Only then
did she enter the house and hurry to the office to open the safe. She removed
the manila envelope and checked the contents, breathing a sigh of relief that
everything was undisturbed, then slid the envelope inside her shirt and
re-locked the safe.

The house had been closed up for a long time;
the air was hot and stuffy. She felt dizzy as she stood up, and her stomach
moved queasily. She hurried outside to the back porch, leaning against the wall
and gulping- fresh air into her lungs until her head cleared and her stomach
settled. Her nerves were shot. She didn't know how much longer she could stand
it, but she had to wait. He would call again; she knew it. Until then, there
was precious little she could do.

Everything was still calm, quiet. The horse
nickered a welcome at her as she mounted and turned toward home.

The stableman came out to meet her as she
rode up, relief plain on his face. "Thank God you're back," he said
feelingly. "The boss is raising pure hell—excuse me, ma'am. Anyway,
he's been tearing the place up looking for you. I'll get word to him that
you're back."

"Why is he looking for me?" she
asked, bewildered. She had told Edie that she was going riding.

"I don't know, ma'am." He took the
horse's reins from her hands as she slid to the ground.

Michelle went into the house and sought out
Edie. "What has John in such an uproar?" she asked.

Edie lifted her eyebrows. "I didn't get
close enough to ask."

"Didn't you tell him I'd gone
riding?"

"Yep. That's when he really blew
up."

She thought something might have come up and
he couldn't find the paperwork he needed on it, but when she checked the office
everything looked just as it had when she'd left that morning. Taking the
manila envelope from inside her shirt, she locked it inside John's safe, and
only then did she feel better. She
was
safe here, surrounded by John's
people.

A few minutes later she heard his truck come
up the drive, and judging from its speed, his temper hadn't settled any. More
curious than alarmed, she walked out to meet him as the truck skidded to a
stop, the tires throwing up a spray of sand and gravel. John thrust the door
open and got out, his rifle clutched in his hand. His face was tight, and black
fire burned in his eyes as he strode toward her. "Where in hell have you
been?" he roared.

Michelle looked at the rifle. "I was out
riding."

He didn't stop when he reached her, but
caught her arm and hauled her inside the house. "Out riding where, damn
it? I've had everyone combing the place for you."

"I went over to the house." She was
beginning to get a little angry herself at his manner, though she still didn't
know what had set him off. She lifted her nose and gave him a cool look.
"I didn't realize I had to ask permission to go to my own house."

"Well, honey bunch, you have to do
exactly that," he snapped, replacing the rifle in the gun cabinet. "I
don't want you going anywhere without asking me first."

"I don't believe I'm your
prisoner," she said icily.

"Prisoner, hell!" He whirled on
her, unable to forget the raw panic that had filled him when he hadn't been
able to find her. Until he knew what was going on and where Roger Beckman was,
he'd like to have her locked up in the bedroom for safekeeping. One look at her
outraged face, however, told him that he'd gone about it all wrong, and she was
digging her heels in.

"I thought something had happened to
you," he said more quietly.

"So you went tearing around the ranch
looking for something to shoot?" she asked incredulously.

"No. I went tearing around the ranch
looking for you, and I carried the rifle in case you were in any danger."

She balled her hands into fists, wanting to
slap him. He wouldn't believe her about a real danger, but he was worried that
she might sprain an ankle or take a tumble off a horse. "What danger could
I possibly be in?" she snapped. "I'm sure there's not a snake on the
ranch that would dare bite anything without your permission!"

His expression became rueful as he stared
down at her. He lifted his hand and tucked a loose strand of sun-streaked hair
behind her ear, but she still glared at him like some outraged queen. He liked
her temper a lot better than the distant manner he'd been getting from her
lately. "You're pretty when you're mad," he teased, knowing how that
would get her.

For a moment she looked ready to spit. Then
suddenly she sputtered, "You jackass," and began laughing.

He chuckled. No one could say
"jackass" quite like Michelle, all hoity-toity and precise. He loved
it. She could call him a jackass any time she wanted. Before she could stop
laughing, he put his arms around her and hauled her against him, covering her
mouth with his and slowly sliding his tongue between her lips. Her laughter
stopped abruptly, her hands coming up to clutch his bulging biceps, and her
tongue met his.

"You worried the hell out of me,"
he murmured when he lifted his mouth.

"Not all of it, I noticed," she
purred, making him grin.

"But I wasn't kidding. I want to know
whenever you go somewhere, and I don't want you going over to your place alone.
It's been empty for quite a while, and a bum could start hanging around."

"What would a bum be doing this far
out?" she asked.

"What would a bum be doing anywhere?
Crime isn't restricted to cities. Please. For my peace of mind?"

It was so unusual for John Rafferty to plead
for anything that she could only stare at him. It struck her that even though
he'd said please, he still expected that she would do exactly as he'd said. In
fact, she was only being perverse because he'd been his usual autocratic,
arrogant self and made her angry. It suited her perfectly to be cautious, for
the time being.

The dizziness and nausea she'd felt at the
house must have been the beginning symptoms of some sort of bug, because she
felt terrible the next day. She spent most of the day in bed, too tired and
sick to worry about anything else. Every time she raised her head, the awful
dizziness brought on another attack of nausea. She just wanted to be left
alone.

She felt marginally better the next morning,
and managed to keep something in her stomach. John held her in his arms,
worried about her listlessness. "If you aren't a lot better tomorrow, I'm
taking you to a doctor," he said firmly.

"It's just a virus," she sighed.
"A doctor can't do anything."

"You could get something to settle your stomach."

"I feel better today. What if you catch
it?"

"Then you can wait on me hand and foot
until I'm better,'' he said, chuckling at her expression of horror. He wasn't
worried about catching it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even had a
cold.

She was much better the next day, and though
she still didn't feel like riding around the ranch, she did spend the morning
in the office, feeding information into the computer and catching up on the
books. It would be easier if they had a bookkeeping program for the computer;
she made a note to ask John about it.

Roger still hadn't called.

She balled her fist. She knew he was
somewhere close by! How could she get him to come out of hiding? She could
never live a normal life as long as she was afraid to leave the ranch by
herself.

But perhaps that was what she would have to
do. Obviously Roger had some way of watching the ranch; she simply couldn't
believe the blue Chevrolet had been a coincidence, unconnected to Roger. He'd
caught her off guard that time, but now she'd be looking for him. She had to
draw him out.