Nightfall (9 page)

She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling hot and cold at the same time. "I don't know what to think," she said with perfect frankness. "Exactly what is it that Sean thinks I'm going to provide here? Editorial expertise, secretarial skills, what?"

"What." The word was brief, intensely suggestive.

"Forget it."

"Try telling that to your father."

She was glad of the darkness then, glad it hid the flush that covered her cheeks. "You're right," she said with a shaky laugh. "He doesn't listen to anybody once he makes up his mind. There's no way in hell you'll convince him you're not palpitating with lust for me."

"I am."

The silence was thick, dark, impenetrable. She could feel him, standing too close, not close enough, feel the heat from his body that was somehow icy cold. And then she managed a nervous smile.

"For a moment I thought you were serious," she said, half-afraid he'd tell her that he was. Dead serious.

"Where did you go tonight?" he asked instead.

"Shopping, the movies, dinner," she said brightly. "I don't get to New York that often, and I couldn't pass up a visit to Bloomies. I couldn't find anything to buy, though, and I didn't like the movie much, and of course I didn't run into anyone I knew, even when I was in the park, so it got a little lonely, but then I…"

"Then you started babbling," he interrupted her. "Do you have a guilty conscience, Cassidy?"

"Why should I?"

"I can't imagine. You don't strike me as the sort of person who has even a passing acquaintance with evil. Unless, of course, you count your acquaintance with me."

She swallowed. "Are you evil?"

He ignored the question. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Cassidy. If you're feeling guilty, and you're going to lie, the trick is to say as little as possible. There's no reason you need to make excuses. Just answer any direct questions and keep your mouth shut."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said faintly. "Is that what you did when they arrested you?"

Even in the dark she could sense his wolfish smile. "Good night, Cassidy."

She stood, unmoving, as he disappeared down the hallway, and the quiet sound of the door closed behind him. She closed her eyes for a moment, then let out her breath, relaxing her clenched fists. She hadn't even noticed how tense she'd been.

He was a disturbing man. Even under the best of circumstances she would have found him unsettling. If she'd run into him during the course of her work, she would have steered clear of him. That kind of intensity, that kind of subtle, understated power was a direct threat, to the safe, comfortable life she'd built for herself in Baltimore, away from the rampaging demands of her family. It was a threat to her tenuous peace of mind. Perhaps even to her life itself.

But there was no avoiding him in the five thousand square feet of Sean's spacious apartment. No avoiding the pall that hung over the place, over his head. No avoiding the draw that she felt as well, to a man who was…

Evil? Or merely troubled and misjudged?

She couldn't save him. She'd learned that early on, with her mother's drinking and her father's self-destructive ways. She couldn't save them, she couldn't save anyone but herself. She thought she'd outgrown the need to try.

But there was something about Richard Tiernan that called to her. And the sooner she learned to shut her ears, block out the noise, the better off she'd be.

She was almost ridiculously easy to play. Richard should have been bored by the lack of challenge, but he wasn't. Everything about Cassidy Roarke fascinated him, even her very predictability. And perhaps she wasn't really that predictable after all. Perhaps it was just that he knew her, in a very elemental way.

If he'd pushed, she would have run. She was a runner, he knew that. He'd barely touched her, resisting the impulse, the need that had swept over him. He had to move carefully, in stages, invading her space, her mind, her soul. If he made a rash, thoughtless move, he could jeopardize everything. And the stakes were too high to risk failure.

He needed to be deliberate, unhurried, stalking her so subtly she couldn't protect herself from the threat. Until it was too late for her to escape.

He'd schooled his impatience. For two days he sat in that green leather chair and watched her out of hooded eyes, listened as she and Sean argued about the form of the book. It amused him to realize she remained oblivious to Sean's plan for the book. She had to suspect, she was too bright not to, but she continued to view it as a means to proving his innocence. Funny, when the only innocence in that entire apartment rested in Cassidy's troubled green eyes.

He'd kept out of her way, hoping to lull her into a false sense of security. He heard her at night, sneaking around on tiptoes, raiding the refrigerator, heating milk to banish her sleeplessness, but he'd stayed in his room, awake, listening to her movements, remembering the way the thin cotton had flowed against her tall, strong body, the way she'd wrapped her arms around her, protecting herself from him. He wanted to go out and drink warm milk from her lips, he wanted to pull that nightgown up around her strong hips and feel her against him. He stayed where he was, listening to her move about in the kitchen. He didn't wonder what kept her awake at night. He knew very well. He'd done his best to keep it that way.

He was running out of time. There was a limit to how long he could wait for her. Sean was writing like mad, like a man possessed, secretly, when he knew Cass wouldn't disturb him. At the rate he was going, the first draft would be finished long ahead of Richard's looming court date. Sooner or later Cassidy was going to get a look at it, and then all hell would break loose.

He needed to make certain he had her first. He needed to test her, tease her, bind her to him, before it was too late. She was the only one who could give him what he needed. It didn't matter that it could require the ultimate sacrifice from her. He was willing to make that sacrifice. He had to ensure that she would be willing, too.

"Bellingham called," Sean announced out of the blue, three days after Cassidy had arrived in New York.

Richard looked up from the book he was reading. They'd made an uneasy trio the last few days, Cassie organizing and reshuffling paperwork, Sean absorbed in his laptop computer, Richard reading voraciously, everything from astronomy textbooks to mystery novels to the true crime books by Joe McGinniss. He'd watch her when she wasn't looking, knowing she'd feel his eyes on her, making sure she couldn't catch him at it. This time he glanced at her openly. Her fiery hair was bundled at the base of her neck, she was wearing little or no makeup, and she had a spattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. She was wearing a cotton sweater, deliberately baggy, he suspected, and khakis. He wanted to see her legs again.

"Who's Bellingham?" she asked.

"Mark Bellingham's my lawyer," Richard replied.

"Not according to your court transcripts. You were represented by Harrison Matthews and his horde of assistants. Pretty impressive credentials—I didn't realize Matthews had ever lost a case."

"You haven't read far enough into the transcripts," Richard replied coolly. "I doubt if Matthews has lost a case. My father-in-law hired him for me. Once he decided I was guilty, he withdrew his financial support, and Matthews withdrew from the case. Mark took over. He was more than competent, and he had the added advantage of being an old friend."

"Why didn't you get a mistrial declared?" Cass demanded. "You must have set records for going through the court system as it was—surely you could have demanded more time…"

"I didn't want it."

She stared at him. "Why not?"

"Time wasn't about to make any difference. Either the jury believed me innocent or guilty. Spending two years fucking around with the judicial system wouldn't change it."

"It might have."

"Maybe I didn't care."

It silenced her, if only for a moment. He wanted to pursue it. He could see the reluctant sympathy in those expressive eyes of hers. She was seeing him as a man who'd lost his pregnant wife and children in the most horrible of ways, and she wanted to press his head against her breasts and comfort him. The thought amused him. She'd probably try to comfort a rattler who'd made the mistake of biting a scorpion.

"I tried to put Bellingham off," Sean continued in a faintly fretful voice. "I can't have these interruptions when things are moving so well."

"When do you want me to read it?" Cass asked.

Sean stared at his daughter as if she'd suddenly grown two heads. "Read it?"

"Read it," she repeated with exaggerated patience. "The manuscript. Isn't that why I'm here? Apart from being a glorified secretary, getting your research in order, I thought I was supposed to be editing this as you go."

"You know I can't abide having anyone peer over my shoulder while I work!" Sean shot back. "You'll see it when I'm good and ready."

Cass sighed, rising from the desk. "In that case, I'll go back to Maryland, and you can let me know when you're ready for me. I'm not going to waste my time shuffling papers while you consort with your muse."

"Cassidy, come back here!" Sean thundered, but she'd already vanished into the hallway, and he turned to Richard, frustration on his ruddy face. "Never have children, Tiernan. They're sharper than a serpent's tooth."

"I don't expect I'll have the chance to father any others," he said coolly, dropping the book in his lap. "Are you going to let her go?"

There was a faintly crafty expression on Sean O'Rourke's face, one he didn't make much of an effort to hide. "I don't know if I can stop her," he said with a show of regret.

Richard leaned back, watching him. That regret was only a front. He must have thought better of offering his daughter up to Richard Tiernan, and he was glad of the chance to let her escape.

But he'd reckoned without Tiernan. "If she leaves," he said softly, "so do I."

"Richard, you don't need her," Sean said, trying to hide the fear in his eyes. "I don't know why you think you do. Any reasonably intelligent editorial assistant will do, and I can find any number of good-looking ones who'd be more than happy to go to bed with you. Women tend to be fascinated by notoriety, God bless 'em."

"If I wanted a straightforward fuck, I can find it for myself," he said. "Certain kinds of women are attracted to the hint of danger. That's not what I want Cassidy for."

"You don't want her?"

"I didn't say that. I just said things weren't all that simple. Are you going to change your mind? Are you willing to give up my cooperation with your goddamned book in return for your daughter's escape?"

Sean's flushed face turned even darker. "You make it sound as if I'm willing to whore my daughter for the sake of my career," he protested.

"Aren't you?"

"I got you out of jail, Tiernan. I offered to stand bond for you, and it was my name, my reputation that convinced the judge…"

"Your name and reputation are almost as bad as mine," he interrupted the old man ruthlessly. "Mark Bellingham might not have the clout of Matthews, but he can manage a simple appeal. And I don't have to be here. You and I both know it. We made a bargain, and you're going to keep your side of it."

"Nobody can make Cass do anything she doesn't want to do."

"She'll want to," Richard said quietly.

"I don't like it."

"It's a little late for you to decide that, isn't it? You told me she needed to get out in the world, live a little. You're providing her with the opportunity."

"Why do you want her?" Sean asked. "You've never given me a straight answer. I know it's not a case of love at first sight—you're a cold-blooded bastard at best. What do you want from my daughter?"

Richard leaned back, considering it, considering the man who'd sell his daughter for the sake of his bloody career. "Salvation," he said, with more honesty than he'd ever given Sean O'Rourke before.

But Sean was past the time of recognizing truth when he heard it. "I'll have to trust you," he said heavily. "I hope to God I'm not making a major mistake, but I don't see that I have any option."

Richard smiled faintly. "None that you're willing to accept. Are you going to stop her from leaving? Or am I?"

"I'll talk to her."

"Are you going to warn her about me?" He sounded no more than casually interested.

"Is that against our agreement?"

"Not at all. You can tell her anything you want. I'll take care of the rest."

"My daughter isn't an idiot, Tiernan. She's smart, she takes care of herself. She's not a victim, and she's not the kind of woman who'd look for a fantasy screw with a murderer. Thrills aren't her thing."

"Oh, I thought you decided Cassidy needs a few more thrills in her life. Wasn't that how you justified bringing her up here? I simply intend to provide them." He waited to see Sean's reaction, curious as to how far he could push him.

O'Rourke's brief spurt of paternal protectiveness had already vanished. "This better be a damned fine book," he growled.

Richard only smiled.

There, she'd made the decision, and she'd stand by it. Relief and regret swamped her in equal parts as she dragged her suitcase out of the closet and began throwing her clothes inside. It was already early afternoon, but she was leaving the Park Avenue apartment within the hour. Mabry was out somewhere—she'd leave her a note. Now that she'd decided to leave, nothing was going to stop her.

"Running away?" The voice was soft, taunting, coming from her open doorway.

Cass met Richard's cool, ironic gaze with a steady look of her own. "Hardly. I just have better things to do than dance to my father's tune. He wants a handmaiden, and I've outgrown the role."

"He wants a daughter. Have you outgrown that role as well?"

"He's always had me, whether he realized it or not. But I'm not going to play the game with his rules. He changes them to suit himself, and I'm too old to get trapped again."

"Such a great age," he said, tilting his head to one side and surveying her. "How old are you?"