It Had to Be Love (An It Had to Be Novel) (17 page)

“They’re all jealous.”

She smiled. “Especially frustrated Brad.”

“He won’t have too much longer to wait.” He leaned back and stared into her eyes. “And neither will we—they all have cake.” He shot her a quick eyebrow hitch.

“Yeah. About that.” A frown creased her forehead. “I need to talk to you about something.”

The seriousness in her tone made his stomach sink. “You’ve changed your mind about us?”

“No. It’s just . . . I wanted to warn you about some scars I have on my stomach and back. I didn’t want you to be taken by surprise. They’re not pretty.”

“I already knew about the scars, Tara. No big deal.”

She blinked at him. “How?”

“Meg. She can’t tell a lie to save her life. She asked me not to tell anyone else. And I haven’t.”

“Thank you. But they’re bad, Ryan. So if after you see . . .”

“Stop. I’m not worried about a few scars.” They danced in silence for a few minutes until he couldn’t stand not telling her the truth any longer. “Your grandmother told me a little about your ex yesterday. That he hurt you.”

Tara’s eyes widened before she stammered, “Uh, she has dementia . . .”

“And that you changed your name because of him?”

“Ryan, I don’t—”

“I just want to help, Tara.”

When tears filled her eyes, she squeezed them shut and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, Ryan.”

The defeat in her tone shot straight to his heart. “Spencer is responsible for your scars, isn’t he?”

He didn’t think she’d answer until he felt a slight nod against his shoulder.

“And now he’s locked away in a mental institution for it?”

After another long pause, she nodded again.

But he was still a threat, obviously. Who was he? What kind of monster could hurt a sweet woman like her? He wanted to demand she tell him, so he could keep her safe, but checked his temper. “Where exactly—”

She shook her head and started to pull away.

“Okay. No more questions.” She was shutting down again like she’d done before, so he held her closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

As they slowly swayed to the music, he whispered, “I . . . care about you, Tara. Enough that I didn’t want to lie about knowing what your grandmother told me.”

She finally lifted her head from his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “I care about you too, Ryan.”

She cared too? His heart wanted to soar, but the sadness in her eyes quickly grounded his happiness. He hated seeing her so troubled.

The song ended, so he took her hand and led her back to his empty table. Thankfully Gina was across the room, flirting with one of the bartenders.

He pulled out a chair for her and whispered, “You need a drink. And some cake.” He laid a kiss on the top of her head. “Be right back.”

Tara watched Ryan’s broad shoulders weave through the people to get cake, suddenly so sick to her stomach she’d never be able to eat a bite. She should’ve stood up to her parents and left Ryan home. He knew way too much. And he wasn’t going to let it go.

Her grandma was the one person they hadn’t considered. She didn’t read e-mail like everyone else at the wedding who’d been warned not to talk about her past. Just proved there was no such thing as a perfect lie.

Detective Bailey stood nearby, watching her. Maybe she should ask him what to do. But what if his answer was to move and change her name again? She liked living in Anderson Butte. And she liked Ryan. Her growing feelings for him were making it even harder to lie to him.

She needed to pull it together and decide what to do. Ryan hadn’t told anyone about her scars. Someone in their nosy town would have asked her about them by now if he had. Maybe she
could
trust him with the truth. She
wanted
to trust him.

Ryan reappeared and laid a flute of champagne in front of her, along with a slice of cake. He sat beside her and dug into his piece.

“Thank you.” He hadn’t gotten himself anything to drink. “I’m sure we can find you a beer if you’d rather?”

He shook his head. “Not drinking. Detective Bailey asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Detective Bailey trusted Ryan enough to ask him to do that? Then she probably could too. She was going to do it.

She leaned her mouth near Ryan’s ear. “If I promise to tell you the whole story later, will you promise
me
something?”

He laid his fork down. “Anything.”

“Spencer is a computer hacker. One of the best. If you really want to help me remain safe, please don’t dig around in my past on the Internet. He’s obsessed with me in a . . . sick way. As of now, we don’t think he knows where I live or what my new name is, but he’s surely monitoring any references to my married name. He might trace anyone who Googled him too in hopes of finding me.”

Ryan’s face hardened. “I did a search on my phone last night using your maiden name. I looked for your wedding announcement, but didn’t see it. Could that have alerted him?”

“No. My father hired people to remove all of that from the Internet. And I’m sure he’s figured out I’d never make it easy for him by going back to using my maiden name.”

“Good.” He reached for her hand and laced her fingers through his.

Coming clean had lifted the stifling weight of her secret from her soul. And knowing Ryan wouldn’t accidentally alert Spencer now gave her renewed hope she might actually have a chance at a normal life again. The thing she longed for the most.

“Come on.” She drained her champagne glass. “We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow. I refuse to let Spencer ruin my sister’s wedding.”

With her arm tucked through his, they headed for the dance floor filled with people doing the Chicken Dance. It was just what they needed. A silly, fun song to chase the negative energy away. And seeing a big, manly guy like Ryan flapping his arms like a bird would be priceless.

After a few more songs, the dance floor thinned out as people started to leave. Snuggling against Ryan for the last hour had made Tara as eager to skip the rest of the reception as Ryan had been earlier.

As if reading her mind, he whispered softly in her ear, “Can we go upstairs now?”

She glanced around the reception, happy to see her parents deep in a discussion with Brad’s parents. Laura and Brad had just left, so they could probably sneak away too. “Let’s make a run for it.”

The steam shower in her brightly lit bath suddenly sounded like a bad idea. Doubts about her ugly scars had her scooping up small candles from the centerpieces on empty tables and stuffing them into Ryan’s suit pockets as they headed inside. Her darkened bedroom lit only by candlelight sounded like the better choice.

As they climbed the stairs to her bedroom, soft footsteps sounded not far behind them—the same guard who’d surely known what they’d been up to in the library. Embarrassing. But she was in such a good mood, about to be with Ryan, a sexy man she . . . liked a lot, so nothing could dampen her enthusiasm about the fun night ahead of them.

She swung her bedroom door open, blinking in surprise that all the lights were on. It’d been daylight when she’d left for the wedding.

Maybe the maids had cleaned and forgotten to turn off the lights?

She pulled Ryan inside and shut the door behind them. Just as she reached for the light switch, Ryan’s face hardened.

When she turned to see what had made him react that way, the breath whooshed from her lungs. On her bed lay a doll propped up on the pillows. A little boy, his small hand holding a note, with a name tag that read . . . Sean. Her baby’s name.

The child she’d always wanted. The child Spencer made sure she’d never hold.

Hot fear knifed through her anguish—was he nearby? Still in her room? She grabbed Ryan’s arm before her shaking knees collapsed from under her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, “Only Spencer could be that cruel.”

Please, God, don’t let it be happening all over again
.

R
yan handed Tara into the arms of the guard who’d followed them. “Take her somewhere secure. And then call Bailey. I need to search the bedroom.”

The guard grabbed a radio from inside his suit coat as he guided a shaking Tara away. Ryan drew his gun. Blood pounded in his ears as he quickly searched the room, hoping he’d find the bastard so he could take him down.

A few moments later, Bailey burst through the door with five other men. Ryan called out, “All clear.” Then he holstered his gun.

Bailey’s gaze locked on the bed for a moment before he quietly instructed his men, “Hurry and take pictures of the doll. We need to see what the note says.”

Ryan asked, “Is Tara secure?”

“Yes. And I had Spencer put under extra guards this weekend, but I’ll double-check that now.” He pulled out his phone and stepped into the hall.

Ryan wanted to be sure the crime scene was handled properly. A simple mistake might let Spencer off the hook, and that wasn’t happening if he could help it. Anyone who’d do that to Tara . . . he couldn’t get the haunted look in her eyes when she’d seen the doll out of his mind.

Shaking it off, he took a place against the wall to observe. With the amount of security they had in place, how had this happened? And was it just good luck that Laura had spent the night with Tara the evening before so she hadn’t been alone?

After they’d photographed the doll from all angles, Bailey returned and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He took the note from the doll’s hand and opened it. “Son of a bitch.”

“What—”

Bailey cut Ryan off. “Come with me, please.” He placed the note in a plastic bag.

“What does it say?”

“I’d rather go through this just once. Let’s go to the study where the others are waiting.”

Ryan fell into step with Bailey. “Tara’s not safe here. We need to leave. Tonight.”

“Agreed.” As they walked down the staircase Bailey added, “We had this place sealed tight as a drum. Whoever it was is probably long gone with the caterers or florists. Unless he paid off one of the house staff. We’ll go at it from both angles, although Joe has done thorough background checks on all his staff.”

Ryan had endured the same, but couldn’t be angry about it anymore.

When they entered the study, a visibly shaken Joe stood from behind his desk. “What do you make of it, John?”

Eva sat on a couch with her head in her hands as Tara rubbed her back to soothe her. It should be Eva comforting Tara, not the other way around. Only the lack of color in Tara’s face and the set of her lips gave away her own internal struggles. Tara was the strongest woman Ryan had ever met. Watching her hold it together while her mother fell apart shredded his heart.

He crossed the room and sat on Tara’s other side, drawing her against him. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Tara hoped he was right. Laying her head on Ryan’s shoulder, she closed her eyes. While she was happy he was there, grateful for the big, strong shoulder, she hated that he’d been drawn deeper into her bad situation. She shouldn’t have come home and brought danger to her family.

Detective Bailey sat down across from them and tossed a plastic bag on the coffee table. “Spencer must have paid off one of the guards where he’s being held, or asked someone on the outside to arrange this for him. I called his warden. He said he’d check the security cameras to see if they could figure it out.” He stood and paced the room. “We’ll interview the caterers and the florists. If we can prove Spencer sent this, then maybe we can get him moved to regular jail, rather than that damn country club for crazies his overpaid attorneys talked the judge into.”

“But Spencer’s still there, right?” She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking so she folded them together and laid them on her lap.

“Yes. They just did a bed check.”

Her mom moaned a quiet, “Thank God.”

“What does the note say?” her dad asked.

The detective locked eyes with her father. “The man’s crazy. Maybe—”

“I need to know.” Tara blinked back her tears. “I have to know.”

Detective Bailey quietly answered, “It said, ‘I’m sorry I missed you this weekend, Jamie. But I’ll be seeing you very soon.’ It was signed with a capital S.” He handed the little plastic bag to her. “Does this look like Spencer’s handwriting?”

But I’ll be seeing you very soon?

Little spots formed before her eyes. She blinked them back, forcing herself to look. She studied her name written on the outside of the note. “Spencer wrote it.”

“He’s locked up, Tara,” Ryan whispered. “And once we’re home, I’ll be sure you’re safe.”

She needed to focus on that and not allow Spencer to intimidate her. That was what he thrived on. She had to keep it together. “At least he called me Jamie. If he knew my new name, he would have used it to scare me.”

Her father said, “We can’t send you home without security, Tara.”

She shook her head. “I can’t have guards in Anderson Butte, Dad. Why would a dentist need a security detail? Ryan will keep me safe.” He’d already promised he’d let no one hurt her. She trusted his word.

Tara exchanged a confirming glace with Ryan. He nodded sharply.

Detective Bailey said, “Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch a break this time so we can throw him into a stronger cage. One where he won’t have access to so many civilians, and the Internet. He’s just proved the meds they must have him on aren’t working. If we can nail this on Spencer, I’ll petition the court and make sure they understand how dangerous he is. He needs to live the rest of his life in solitary confinement with no outside access at all.”

“Agreed.” Ryan stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go home.”

“Let me go get my things.”

“No. We both need to leave everything. He could have had someone place trackers in our luggage or on our phones.”

Bailey asked, “Can you fly at night, Ryan? Or will you need somewhere secure until daylight?”

“It’s a full moon. We have plenty of light, but helicopter flight is definitely more dangerous at night. I’ll leave that up to Tara.”

It had to be much more dangerous to stay in Denver where someone who worked for Spencer might have access to her. “Let’s go.” She hugged her mother, and then her dad, while fighting back tears. She needed to stay strong for them.

She whispered to her dad, “Don’t tell Laura about this, please. Let her enjoy her honeymoon. Okay?”

“Sure.” Her dad cleared his throat and then handed Ryan his card. “Send me an e-mail tonight when you’re both home safe?” He was trying to be strong too. It broke her heart.

“Will do. Bye, Eva.” Ryan gave her mom a hug and then shook her dad’s hand and said, “I’ll keep her safe.”

Her dad smiled tightly and returned the shake. “I’m counting on that, Ryan.”

Ryan pulled her against his side as they made their way to the front portico, where three black SUVs with darkened windows waited. They crawled into the back of the one in the middle, Detective Bailey took the front passenger seat, then all three vehicles took off.

She’d been transported this way before, during the trial, with decoy cars, making it harder for someone to tail them.

As Detective Bailey and Ryan talked about the logistics of getting Ryan’s car back to the airport and having all their things scanned and returned, Tara tuned them out and stared through the window into the dark night. She forced her mind to focus on getting back home to Anderson Butte, where she’d be safe again. She didn’t want to think about the alternative.

When they pulled onto the airport tarmac, Ryan got out of the SUV to meet one of the employees. He needed to retrieve the keys to the helicopter.

As she reached for her door handle, Detective Bailey said, “Wait for the guards, please. And if we’re unable to get Spencer moved to a higher security compound, I’d like you to reconsider witness protection, Tara. He just proved he’s too dangerous to be in minimum security.”

The tears she’d been forcing back all night welled up in her eyes. That was what she’d tried to avoid thinking about. It meant disappearing for good. Possibly never seeing her family again. A last resort. “I’m hoping he gets moved so I don’t have to consider that. Thank you for everything, Detective.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, before I forget, Ryan asked about a job here. Should I put in a good word for him?”

She wanted whatever Ryan wanted. He deserved to be happy. “Yes, anything you could do would be appreciated. I’ll call you after I get a new cell tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Looks like Ryan’s ready for you. Take care, Tara.”

“You too.” She opened her door and moved between the two men who waited for her. They flanked her as they headed for the already-running chopper. It was her ticket home no matter how dangerous the ride might be.

Hopefully Anderson Butte could
remain
her home.

The full moon illuminating the clear, starry night sky made for an eerily peaceful chopper ride home. That and Ryan had grown unusually quiet. When he glanced at her with that worried look in his eyes for the twenty-fifth time, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I promise I’m fine now, Ryan. I’m not going to fall apart on you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He shrugged. “Much.”

“We need to lighten things up in here. I’ll start.” She pasted on a big smile. “What did the cat say after eating two robins lying in the sun?”

“Assuming cats could talk?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Mr. Literal.”

He stared deeply into her eyes, as if searching to see just how scared she really was under her false bravado. “Yum?”

“No. I just love Baskin-Robbins.”

When that slow, cute smile of his returned, what remained of her anxiety melted away. “Okay, now your turn. I’m dying to hear your all-time favorite joke.”

His forehead furrowed. “I have to get ready to land in a second. And the only ones I can ever remember are stupid knock-knock jokes from when I was a kid.”

“Perfect, those are short. Shoot.”

“Okay. You asked for it. Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Gimme.”

“Gimme who?”

“Gimme a kiss, Tara.”

She grunted. “Only a good-looking guy like you could get away with that line—in high school.” Framing his face with her hands, she laid her mouth on his, tempted to linger, but she needed to make it quick if she wanted to land in one piece.

His lips tilted into a smug smile. “Still works, apparently.”

Ryan got busy adjusting controls as they made their approach. It was just after three a.m. when Anderson Butte appeared below them.

After Ryan set the helicopter down behind the clinic, she hung up her headphones and sighed. “I just realized I can’t get into my house. I don’t have my keys.”

“I’ll get the spare key from my dad in the morning. You can bunk with me tonight.”

“How will you get into
your
house? You don’t have keys either.” She opened the chopper door and stepped out. Her high heels were killing her feet, so she bent down and slipped them off. It wasn’t far to Ryan’s house.

He appeared by her side and slung an arm over her shoulder. “The old key-under-the-flower-pot-on-the-front-porch trick.”