Lie to Me (20 page)

“Are you all right?”

He stared at her, hard. “I was always all right.”

“I know.” She smiled gently at him, aching for him. “Let me get my things and we’ll go.” She was more than ready and headed toward Michael’s desk to retrieve her cardigan and purse, surprised that her legs shook.

About half a minute later, as she bent over to pull her purse out of the bottom drawer, a hand grabbed hers and dragged her to her feet. Damian stood there, towering over her, his hypnotic eyes penetrating into hers, his collar-length golden hair disheveled, and his finely chiseled features soft and adoring. He looked like a damn angel.

“What?” She reached up to push an errant, silky lock of hair behind his ear.

“Thanks.” His gaze never wavered, conveying more than the one word.

She smiled into his serious face, trying to coax him into lightening up. “Thanks for what?”

“For being here. For being you.” He pulled her toward him and kissed her completely, as if he owned her.

She melted like sugar in the rain. He did own her.

As they stepped outside the mill, into the floodlights of the parking lot, a cool breeze blew their hair back. Damian immediately swept the area with his gaze and didn’t see any other people around, just a few cars here and there. “Come on, hon.” He ducked his head against the wind and glanced over at Casey, who also bent hers. Their breaths formed puffs in the air and the sky appeared as a black wall. He hastened his strides and pulled her with him, their fingers linking them together. As they sprinted in the direction of his yellow Mustang, they both saw it at the same time and stopped dead in their tracks.

“Shit.” Damian sucked in the humid, heavy air and stared in disbelief. He finally let out the breath he’d been holding. It came out in a jagged white cloud. Casey had her arms tangled around his waist and her head pressed against his shoulder.

“Wow,” she managed, in a tight voice, squeezing him from the side.

“At least three tires slashed,” Damian mumbled. “I’m sure the fourth one wasn’t spared.” He shot a stern look down at her. She was staring up at him. “I’m going to run you to the mini-mart and then check the car to make sure nobody’s in it.” He yanked her in the direction of the convenience store across the street, but she wouldn’t move. “Casey!” he commanded, as if it would do any good.

“No!” She pulled out of his grasp. “We
both
need to go to the mini-mart and call the cops from there. I won’t let you take me there unless you stay with me. You can’t be out here alone.”

Damian scanned the area for danger, but still didn’t see anybody. His senses were razor sharp, as he spoke to her in a rush. “No damn cops. If somebody
is
in that car, I’m going to make the fucker tell me who hired him. I’ll do a much better job than the cops because I’ll stick my gun to his head.”

“That’s crazy.”

“If there’s a way to find out who’s behind this, I have to know.” He finally pulled he gun out of his inside pocket, pointing it carefully at the ground. “Case, I’m a crack shot. I can take out anyone before they take me out, but I want
you
out of danger.”

“I’m a crack shot too, and I’m going with you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her gun, meeting his gaze, boldly.

He shook his head. “Case—”

“Won a few shooting contests.”

“You’re probably better than me, I know.” He gave up; she wouldn’t listen. “Be careful, babe.”

“You too.”

He took a deep breath, scoped the area once more and shot a quick glance over his shoulder. On edge, he grabbed her arm. “Keep your eyes and ears open.” They ran until they got close to the car. Then they hesitantly approached, and Damian felt as if he were in a spy movie. He was crouched over, gun extended, steps quick and soundless. A fast sidewise look at Casey showed her in a similar crouched position, her gun also extended. When they finally reached the car, Damian grabbed Casey by her gun-free arm and jerked her behind him, ignoring her cry of protest. Before she could recover, he peered inside the car, and let out a breath of relief that fogged the window.

Nobody was inside. By the time Casey had regained her wits and peered in beside him, he knew that at least no killer awaited either of them.

“Gone,” he said, in a whisper. Really, it felt like a movie, unreal. The whole night felt unreal.

“There’s something in the backseat.” Casey disappeared too quickly for him to stop her, and climbed inside the car before he could blink.

Damian moved to the open door, feeling a chill. “I locked the doors.” He could see Casey scrambling to the back seat. She held up a few items. One was a beer can.

Sam.
It had to be fucking Sam…nobody else gave a damn about his past drinking the way his brother did. Something about giving the family a bad name, as if the family didn’t already have a bad name.

Casey climbed out and set the beer can on the hood of the car. She clutched a folded piece of copy paper in her hand and glanced down at it, then up at him.

“Another love note,” he mumbled, taking it from her. He unfolded the paper as Casey leaned over and read it with him. Neither spoke, but silently scanned the computerized words.

We dunt want any mor Ballantines arund. You bein’ hear just make us more eger to hert you famly. Expic someon else to get hurt. The kine of hurt you dunt rekuver from.

“Sam,” he said, crumbling the paper and sticking it in his jacket pocket. “He’s the only one who wants me out of town that badly. The mill workers are angry with Dad and Sam, not me. This is a ruse. It’s Sam.” He could feel his insides shaking again. “He’s not even good at hiding his identity. This is so damn transparent!”

“There
are
crazy mill workers, Damian,” she said. “Heck, there are crazy
people
. My dad gets threatening letters all the time because he’s a congressman. Sometimes they threaten Mom, my sister and me. You can’t know for sure.”

But Damian did know. “I hate it, but it’s Sam.”

“I won’t argue now. What are we going to do about the car? We can’t leave it here. If we do, even if nobody tells on us tonight, your dad and Sam will know we were here when they get here in the morning.”

“Let’s go to that mini-mart first.” Damian grabbed her arm and pulled her across the parking lot, both of their guns still in their hands. They didn’t hide them until they’d almost reached the convenience store across the street.

As Damian opened the glass door and let them both inside, he relaxed for the first time since leaving the mill. Hell, since entering the mill. He smiled at the curious looking pimple-faced boy cashier, hopefully to reassure him, and pulled out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” Casey whispered.

Damian busily pressed the buttons to the only person he knew who could help them out without involving the police. “I kept in touch with Adam Flanders when I was in Alabama. My buddy from college. He owns those tires shops—”

“Oh.” Her voice sounded hollow.

He knew why and wanted to shake her. This was an inappropriate time for jealousy. “I only kept in touch with him, and not you, because he’d never meant what you did to me, love. Quiet. Let me talk.” He kept an arm around as he bribed his friend into getting out of bed, going to his shop, bringing four good tires that fit his car, and driving over to the mini-mart. Good compensation motivated Adam.

After Damian got off the phone, he and Casey strolled through the aisles, holding hands.

“Telling your dad anything?” she asked, softly.

He chuckled. “There’s not enough trust between us, and he’s not above having his own kid arrested.”

“He wouldn’t have you arrested,” Casey said, flatly.

Damian saw a flashback in his mind. “He did when I was drunk at the mill and he’d fired me and I wouldn’t leave.”

“That was different. You were out of control.”

“This could even get him angrier.”

Casey looked up at him with brown eyes as large as a puppy’s. “What if somebody tells him you were at the mill?”

“Who talks to my dad? He isn’t exactly approachable. Anyone who saw me thinks Dad sent me there.”

“That’s true.” She finally blurted, “What if Sam finds out?”

Damian let out a breath. “People would be less inclined to approach
him
. He has incriminating stuff on his computer anyways. He wouldn’t want to bring in the cops.” He felt a wave of nausea. “I don’t want to think about Sam.”

“Yeah. I know.” She gave him a look that was so soft, so caring. He was certain she understood.

Damian felt a weary depression, even as he appreciated her attempt to console him. He pulled her through the aisles with him, and grabbed a bag of chips that he’d never eat. It felt wrong to be using the store as a sanctuary without buying something. Casey grabbed a can of soda.

After Damian paid, they stood at the door, looking outside, waiting for Adam. He and Casey spent a few companionable minutes in silence, the calm after the storm. Finally a vehicle pulled into the driveway. Damian hadn’t seen his friend since before Alabama, but the license plate on the truck read “Adam.”

When Adam parked right out front, Damian held up a finger in a gesture that meant “wait a second.” He turned to Casey and held her chin. “Stay here while I help him change the tires,” he said, in a commanding whisper.

“No. I’ll guard the area while you two put the tires on.” She patted her purse and stared at him.

Damian knew that nothing would make her stay. “All right, Rambo.” He shook his head. With Adam there, he felt there was less chance he’d be attacked anyways and he bet Casey was one hell of a shot when she or her loved ones were in danger. He didn’t bother trying to dissuade her any further because he knew he wouldn’t succeed.

Chapter Eleven

Damian drove home with only half his mind on the road. He flashed back to his childhood and the days of chasing after Sam. While Alex went his own way, doing his own thing, Damian wanted to be around his big brother. Sometimes Sam let him hang with his group of friends, protecting him in older brother fashion. “You treat him right or I’ll bloody your noses.”

Damian had always felt good when Sam stood up for him, even though they’d had their own fights and problems. In calm times, however, Sam set down strict rules that they’d always followed. “If we’re going to fight, we fight fair,” Sam told him.

He stuck to it, even as Damian grew as big as him and became a quicker fighter. They had their altercations, but they did fight fair.

In later years, Sam had tried to stop him from drinking, but had given up quickly, and hardened himself against him, calling him a no-good drunk. It had hurt the first time; it still did.

When Damian and Casey finally got home, climbed the stairs, and shoved opened the door to her apartment, Damian froze in shock when he saw Sam sitting on the sofa, watching a basketball game with Alex. Even more appalling, Miles looked wide awake as he sat on Sam’s lap, talking to him in an excited voice.

Damian felt an eruption of fury at his brother. “What is
he
doing here?” His voice exploded as he slammed the door so hard that the room shook.

Casey put her hand on his arm, but he couldn’t calm himself.
How dare Sam invade Casey’s apartment, especially now! Is this part of his innocent act?
As the air ignited with almost tangible tension, the two men gazed at one another with frozen eyes. Everyone stopped talking. Casey let out a startled breath. Alex’s brow creased.

Miles, with a child’s sense of danger, stood up and broke the silence. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Why are you mad?”

Damian swallowed and tried to sound calm as he addressed his son. “Why are you awake? It’s almost one o’clock.” He kept his eyes on Sam and Sam did the same to him.

“I had a nightmare. Uncle Sam was here so he came to get me,” Miles said, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“I’ll take you back to bed,” Casey said, hurrying up to him. She grabbed Miles by the arm, smiled at him, and guided him towards his room.

“But—” Miles said, glancing over his shoulder.

Sam rose to his full six foot five, an inch taller than either of his brothers. He jerked his stare from Damian and looked at Miles. “Dad and Mom are right, sport. Time to sleep. I’ll see you again soon.”

Miles half smiled as Casey pulled him into his room, shutting the door behind her. They heard the lock turn.

Sam turned back toward Damian, who heard his own harsh breathing and felt his balled fists. Under his jacket, he could feel the gun…

To eliminate temptation, he slid out of his jacket and placed it carefully on the arm of the sofa, and pulled the crumbled piece of paper out of his pocket. He straightened up and faced his brothers.

“What’s your problem tonight?” Sam asked, his voice shot like a lightning bolt.

Damian laughed, an ugly sound. “As if you didn’t know.”

Alex stood up now, stepping in front of Sam. “Before the two of you break into one of your childish fights, at least tell us what’s going on.” He crossed his arms and joined Sam in staring at him.

Damian temporarily forced his muscles to relax. Right below Alex’s cap, he caught sight of his twin’s bandage. He also inwardly flinched at the eye that was almost swollen shut. He told himself that, no matter what, Alex couldn’t be a casualty of this altercation. Although Alex had wrestled professionally, and was stronger than him and Sam combined, he was in no shape to take a hit tonight.