His to Cherish (7 page)

He chopped his hand at the new locks. "You got no right--"

"I have every right when I'm in residence," I snapped. "Disagree then get a lawyer."

Truth was, I had no idea whether I'd been legally in the right to change the locks. I imagined there was a fat book of court cases and legal statutes somewhere that governed everything, but no rules had been mentioned in the will or in probate after my mother died.

"Lawyers are for the weak, little girl." His fingers bent around the edge of the door frame and he started to push.

We had danced to this song before. I always lost back then, but I'd been a smaller fat girl. Now my mass wasn't without muscle, especially from my time spent with Collin. The positions Stark had made me hold while he pleasured my body had isometrically strengthened me. Even in Florida, with no lover to direct me, I had repeated those positions, finding in them an almost meditative state that, some nights, was the only thing that brought me enough peace to sleep.

"This is my house," Evan growled. "You will give me the keys."

Straining to hold him in check, my hand started to sweat. If I didn't get the door shut and bolted soon, I would lose my grip on the phone and my lifeline to help.

Yelling, I shoved more of my weight against the door. "It's my house!"

Evan wedged the tip of his toe in the remaining gap, his hand adjusting its grip so that his palm was at risk instead of his fingers. He pawed at my face, the nails bitten too short to scratch.

"Only while you're alive." The words came out as a cold, menacing chuckle, sparking another shiver of dread across my body.

"Are you threatening me?" I inhaled, trying not to panic.

"Little girl, you bring a mother fucking cop onto my property and I don't have to threaten you." Evan worked his elbow into the gap, his hand capturing my wrist and giving it a rough jerk that sent the phone flying. "I got plenty who'll do it without my even asking."

He grabbed my hair next, the fingers expertly knotting in the strands so that I couldn't move my head without ripping hair from the roots.

"You've been holding out, you little bitch." He gave another hard jerk, making me yelp. "I already had a walk through, seen all those fancy clothes and the slutty leather ones you got buried deep in the dresser."

His tone dropped to a speculative level that made bile rise up my throat and into my mouth. "Tell me, Mia, did I give you a taste for getting beat on?"

"Release her."

I couldn't imagine anyone, not even my stepfather, being stupid enough to ignore the edge in Collin Stark's voice. Evan hesitated to comply. That's when I saw Stark thread an arm across his throat, the massive bicep and forearm working together to squeeze Evan's airway shut.

My stepfather released me. Collin slammed him against the wall. Holding his palm against the center of Evan's chest, he stared unblinking into his eyes.

"Any injury to her," Collin warned, "and I'll take a month in killing you. Open fractures, someplace dirty so that the bacteria gets in and starts to eat you from both sides, you'll beg to die long before I let you."

Grabbing a fistful of Evan's shirt, Collin slung him away from the house. Sprawling in the dirt and fallen pine needles, Evan stumbled to his feet, his gaze on the cab of his truck. Ignoring the rifle on the window rack, Collin moved his jacket to one side to reveal a long-barreled handgun. He tilted his chin up, acknowledging the rifle at last as a half smile crept along his face.

"You'll want to wait until you have a clear shot at my back," he taunted.

Froth played at the edge of Evan's lips. He wiped a shaking hand across his mouth then spit in my direction, his gaze bloodshot and furious. "You don't bring this shit onto my land, Mia."

Collin moved until he blocked Evan's view of me. "The shit was already on your land, old man."

A card flicked down at my stepfather's feet. "You don't talk her anymore. You have something to say, you say it to the voice on the end of that line."

I thought Evan would leave the card in the dirt but he scooped it up before hobbling to his truck. He climbed in, the engine turning over a few seconds later. Pedal to the floor, he pulled a hard left, sending dirt and pebbles spraying in the direction of the door. Collin already filled the open frame, the debris pelting the back of his leather jacket as he forced me inside.

"You're packing -- now."

"I'm not leaving." I pushed at his hands, my skin tingling so badly it burned wherever the pressure of his touch landed. "This is my home."

Letting go of me, he scooped my phone up, cancelled the partial call and pocketed the device. He looked at me, the shape of his flaring nostril and flattened mouth softening from angry to reminiscent. His lips rolled for half a second then he shook his head like he was flinging off raindrops or a troubling thought.

Looking down, I saw the folds of flannel that made up my nightgown, the pattern not too different from the one I had worn that night in Dubai -- the night I had conceived.

Shut that thought down, Mia!

I shoved my hand at him. "Give me my phone."

Ignoring the demand, he walked around the living room, stopping in front of the bins marked "salvage" and "ruined." He bent down, his hand reaching for the nearest container.

"Don't touch those!"

Without a second's hesitation, he ignored me and ripped the lid off the bin of ruined items. He fingered through the top layer for a few seconds then looked over his shoulder at me.

"I can't imagine you leaving these behind."

"I didn't," I bit out. Tears tracked slowly down my cheeks.

"He didn't let you have your family keepsakes when you left?"

Ignoring the question, I shoved my arm in his direction, my hand twitching and jumping with the need to possess the phone. Relenting, he pulled it from his pocket and returned it to me.

I snatched it to my chest. "Now get out."

He looked at the box again, his gaze seemingly focused on a runny picture of me at six, my forehead against Corabelle's as I fed her an apple. "NSA has these algorithms--"

"You can't fix it." I pointed at the door, my chest rapidly rising and falling as I verged on hyperventilating. I didn't need this bullshit. I had to deal with the sociopath my mother had married. I needed my energy focused on rebuilding my life. Collin couldn't keep showing up and kicking over my building blocks like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

He didn't want me and he had to stop acting like he gave a damn!

Collin recovered the bin then walked toward me. Stumbling around the furniture, I took a step back for each one he took forward until I came up against the wall. He stopped, a few inches separating our torsos, and pressed his palms flat against the worn paint on each side of my head. He held his arms up high enough I could duck under one if my legs weren't frozen.

He closed the pocket of air between us, his thick, muscular chest pushing against my soft breasts and stomach. Blue eyes focused on me like laser beams as he recanted yesterday's denial in a raspy voice. "You can have home office."

Home office, where I could watch all the little gestures between him and his new secretary in real life instead of on television. Home office, where he could pass me in the hall with the same bored, indifferent look he had affected at the restaurant and in my first month working directly under him. Home office, where what was left of my self-esteem would be ground to dust far faster than Reed Henley and the Florida office could accomplish.

I stared into the blue eyes, hoping he couldn't sense my body's reaction. My nipples had puckered beneath the smooth flannel, the sensation of the fabric rubbing over my skin as he pushed against me a glorious torture. Heat flared over every inch of skin, my bare toes curling against the cold wood floor. My thighs flexed, everything in that zone pulling tight with need and neglect even as a sheen of moisture covered my eyes and thickened.

I shook my head. "I told you I wouldn't take home office."

He leaned closer, increasing the pressure on my nipples and lower stomach. Eyes shut, he rubbed his forehead lightly back and forth against mine. "What will you take?"

What was he offering? More rejection most likely. If my being at home office would have been too awkward yesterday, how could my being in his arms or his bed be any less awkward? He had said "no" yesterday because he didn't want me around him or didn't want me hurt from seeing his disinterest in me on a daily basis.

Another swing of his foot, more blocks toppled. I needed to start all over with a new foundation -- one that didn't have any mysteries in it. It wouldn't bring me back to Stark International, wouldn't even get me out of the guesthouse and away from Evan, but I would make him tell me what had happened in that makeshift hospital room in Dubai.

"The truth," I whispered.

As if he knew the exact question coming, Collin tensed against me.

"Open your eyes." I pushed at his chest until he allowed a small gap between our bodies. "Tell me if there was a baby, whether I miscarried."

I knew the answer with the way his breath thinned to nothing and he stopped breathing altogether, but I had to hear it from his mouth. I slapped his chest with a loosely closed fist. "Open your eyes and answer, damn it!"

He obeyed and I thought, for a second, that I saw the blue pools of his irises awash in tears, but my vision was too blurry for me to tell. He swallowed, his forehead moving against mine in a nod.

"Yes, you miscarried, lo--" He pulled back, his hands still caging me in. "I thought it would be easier on you if you didn't know."

My loose fist balling tight, I raised my hand even with my collarbone. "Thought what would be easier on me?"

"Your leaving."

He moved one hand to stroke the side of my head but I evaded him, my fist landing twice on his chest in rapid succession. "I didn't leave!"

How could I have left when he cast me out!

Collin captured the hand assaulting him, holding me by the wrist and pulling me to him. His face pressed against my neck, a million neurons firing inside my head at the contact. My legs threatened to fold if he didn't release me immediately.

"No!" I jerked, pushed, fighting both his attempt to hold me and the memories of being in his arms that made my limbs numb and unresponsive as my brain ordered my body to flee.

"I didn't leave," I accused again. "I didn't leave and it didn't help."

"I'm sorry, baby."

He tried to capture my head and I knew he would kiss me if he did. I didn't trust why he would do so, couldn't imagine myself trusting his motivations ever again.

"Stop hurting me," I begged, my voice quivering as it built in volume. "Get out and stop hurting me!"

His hands fell to his sides. Sensing a moment's vulnerability in Collin, I started pushing and slapping him toward the door, tears streaming down my face.

"Get out, get out, get out!"

He didn't try to shield himself against my blows or otherwise stop me until he stood on the outside of the open door.

"I can't leave until I know you're safe from your stepfather."

His hands lifted as if he would catch the door before I could close it. I shook my head, warning him not to try.

"I don't care what you do." I slammed the door inward, my gaze locked on his quickly disappearing face. "Just don't let me see you."

"You won't," he promised with a whisper.

 Protecting Mia

For an hour after the door slammed in my face, I watched from within the treeline that overlooked Mia's little house. An hour was how long it took her to both break down and call Deputy Gillie and for him to arrive. In uniform but driving his personal vehicle, he had to coax her into letting him inside. He leaned against the doorframe as he persuaded her, a certain intimacy in his manner that made my gums ache.

I hadn't received any fresh intel from Kane on Mia's life in Keeling in over fifteen hours. That meant my knowledge of Gillie came from the hundred-dollar "tip" I'd given the waitress at the roadhouse. I had no idea how well Mia knew Gillie from before she left Keeling. He could have been the first man to part her legs and sample her sweet stores or the one she had dreamt of opening to.

At least she hadn't let him stay last night or any real amount of time. His interior security check had lasted no more than fifteen minutes before she pushed him out the door -- far more gently than she had ousted me and with a smiling laugh instead of tears.

As far as competition went, I liked Deputy Gillie a lot less than old man Keppler.

I watched as he slowly worked his way inside. Her face told me she was hurting. A ruthless part of me was glad. It meant she still had feelings for me. Then the sane part of me reared up and I remembered I didn't want her to have feelings for me. If Gillie sat her down on the couch, wrapped his arms around her, stroked her hair and she let him, not once thinking about me, that would be a good thing.

It would hurt like hell, but it would be a good thing.

With both of them inside and the door shut, I finished securing a remote camera to the tree I had watched from. I checked the video feed on my phone, then shouldered the small gear bag that had kept me company through a cold night outdoors.