Table for Two (39 page)

"You surprise me," he said. "I never would have thought you enjoyed poetry."

Cedric grimaced. "I don't. I'm only here because of her." He moved and revealed Pamela peering at the lower bookshelf. She angrily shoved a book back and grabbed another.

Drake watched her, worried. "Should I ask why?"

Pamela straightened. "Because that archaic, old fogy Mr. Randall gave me a C on my paper. And I'm going to prove to him that I deserve an A."

"Archaic?"

Cedric raised his hands. "Don't argue."

"Yes, archaic," Pamela said. "He belongs in the Middle Ages. He thinks women are too free now and that romantic love has suffered for it. I'm going to prove him wrong."

"Randall... that name sounds familiar. I think Cassie knows him. A teacher, right? Glen Randall?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Cassie doesn't seem to have the same opinion as you. Personally, I think he's a drip, but she told me that's because he's divorced."

Pamela snapped the book shut and stared at him, confused. "Divorced? His wife is dead."

Drake's cell phone suddenly rang. "Henson."

Gianolo's voice came through in an urgent whisper. "I heard the footsteps go to Cassie's door...."

Chapter 17

It was the whispered words along with the distinct feeling that something was wrong that woke her. Something about the air being too still, a faint familiar smell that didn't belong there. She felt Drake's arm around her, but somehow it felt different. The cotton of his T-shirt felt coarse against her skin and his grip was unusually tight. She turned to him and realized why. It wasn't Drake at all.

Glen covered her mouth before she could scream. "You don't want to do that."

She nodded and he slowly removed his hand.

She had an unnatural desire to laugh. The whole situation was preposterous. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to understand the punch line to this joke.

"I've been a very patient man, Cassie." He softly touched her hair, then her cheek. "Don't you think it's time I got to be with you for a change? After all those times you've teased me and kept me just out of reach?" His beautiful booming voice shook with pain, his eyes making it clear that this was no joke. In the moonlight she could see the serious contours of his face.

All humor disappeared, replaced by a rush of fear. Fear that the man she had called a friend was not a friend at all. Had never been one. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't act coy." His gentle caressing became painful, a mixture of desire and anger, causing hot friction against her cheek. "You knew how I felt about you and you used it against me, always calling me a nice guy while you went out with Neanderthals. I thought you were different, I thought you liked class, sophistication, tenderness; but like most women you like the challenge of taming the beast. So here I am willing to be tamed. I'm not going to be nice anymore. I'm going to get what I want the way other men have, by taking it."

She smelled the stale stench of whiskey on his breath. "You've been drinking."

"Only to clear my thoughts." He pressed wet lips to one cheek and then the other. "I've been thinking about this—about us for a long time. You've hurt my feelings a lot."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You're always sorry. It was your fault Mr. Gianolo nearly died. He insulted me. I couldn't have that, now, could I? A man's pride is everything and he threatened mine. He thought he knew what was best for you, but he was wrong. He knew it was me. Therefore, I had to keep him quiet. I slipped a bulb in his beloved soup."

"You poisoned him."

Glen traced her brows and shrugged. "The same way I poisoned you. It's amazing, the power of flowers."

"That night—" She remembered not smelling the onions for his minestrone.

"That night you got sick after the party you dumped me for. Yes, that was me. The particular bulb I used takes about six hours to get the effect. I wanted you to attend the party, but I had to make sure you didn't enjoy it too much. After all, I wasn't there with you like I am now." His eyes filled with tears. "You forced me to do it. I was going to make it up to you, but you didn't follow the plan. I called you, but you weren't home. You were supposed to come home and let me take care of you. I told you that you and I were part of a different time, but you had begun to stray. Just like Rita with her extravagant hair, clothes, and love for rock music. When I met her at college she was much more conservative than that. But society changed her, changed her from the woman I loved. The woman who adored and catered to me. You're luckier than poor Rita. I let you live."

Cassie swallowed. "Why the flowers?"

"It was the perfect way to portray my feelings as any man would in the 1800s. I had given you fair warning of how I felt with the carnation. Oh, how you teased my poor heart! The yellow roses were eloquent enough, although you chose to ignore them. I made it clear that I was jealous of your unfaithfulness. It wasn't hard to get them delivered. I had plenty of students who would do anything for a no-homework pass."

She firmed her voice, determined to talk reason. "Glen—"

He grabbed her chin and squeezed so tight she thought the top of her head would shoot off. "Don't Glen me. You can't fight me on this. You can't manipulate me any longer. You wanted friendship and I gave it to you. You wanted space and I gave it to you. The least you can do is give me what I deserve. I'm much stronger than you and I'm not going to be nice about it."

"What you deserve isn't legal anymore."

He let his hand glide down her arm. "Sounds interesting."

She drew away in disgust. "You won't get away with this."

"Oh, yes, I will."

"Are you going to spout poetry to get me in the mood?"

He pulled out a knife from under the pillow. It winked cruelly in the glow of the moon. "I think you'd better rephrase that."

Cassie bit her lip.

"That's better. I prefer silence. Women are just too full of opinions nowadays. See how complacent I can be even when annoyed? Much more civilized than the other men you choose. There's no need to tremble, darling. I'll make sure that it's good for both of us."

She licked her lips, her mind leaping back and forth to find a new strategy. She shut her eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her—she felt as if a fish were sucking her face; his long, cold fingers felt more like a squid than a hand. She opened her eyes and saw the knife. She grabbed it.

"Oh, God!" she screeched, hysterical. "I've cut myself!"

"Relax, Cassie."

"I can't stand the sight of blood. I wanted to take your hand, but grabbed the knife instead. Oh, I think I'm going to pass out."

"It's just a little cut, dear. You women can be so irrational." He chuckled, pleased by her demonstration. "Don't worry, I'll take care of things."

He left the room. When she heard him running the water in the sink, she raced to the front door. She grasped the handle, but Glen seized her from behind and pulled her back.

"I knew I couldn't trust you." He yanked her head back and trailed his finger across her neck. "You like getting cut? I'll make sure I indulge you." He squeezed her wounded hand, dragged her back into the bedroom, and pushed her on the bed. He covered her like a tsunami. "Go ahead and cry. I'd like to hear you cry."

"Not for long," a voice said from the shadows.

For a moment Cassie wasn't sure what to fear. Glen or the anger that crept into the room from the familiar figure standing in the doorway. Unfortunately, Glen did not sense the danger she did.

"This is not about you, Henson. I've already had her. The woman is a damn whore. Do you think you're the only man in her life? Do you think you're somehow special? You're not. None of us are. She toys with us. But men rule the world, not women, and this one needs to learn her place. You can have her when I'm finished."

"You're finished now."

Glen lifted the knife and held it close. "Take one more step and I'll finish her completely."

With Glen focused on Drake, Cassie knew this was her last chance. She jabbed him in his Adam's apple. He grabbed his throat and dropped to the floor. She rolled away, but felt his fingers clutch the hem of her nightgown. They loosened when Drake leaped on top of him and squeezed Glen's neck until the other man's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Cassie's sense of relief was shattered when she realized Drake didn't plan to let go. She grabbed his arm, feeling the rage that strengthened him.

"Let go, you'll kill him!"

"He raped you." His voice cracked in anguish. "I saw the blood."

"He lied. I'm all right." She waved her hand in front of him. "It's from the knife." She shook him, trying to slacken his grasp. "Please. He's not worth it.
Please
."

"She said let go," a deep, threatening voice said behind them.

Drake released his grip and Glen's limp body collapsed to the bed. They both stared at the shadowy figure in the doorway. He stepped into the light. Cassie gasped, then ran to him.

"Clarence! What are you doing here?"

Clay held her tight. "Looking after my little sister as always." He pulled away and looked down at her. "I suggest you call the police."

She nodded, then turned to Drake, who was swinging Glen's limp body over his shoulder. "What are you going to do with him?" she demanded.

"Hand him over to the police with a few souvenirs. Don't worry, I'll wake him up to make sure he enjoys them."

"But—"

"Call the police." He disappeared out the door into the darkness of the hall.

Clay let her go and turned to follow. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't kill him. I have a few parting words myself."

* * *

Once the cops and medics had left, Clay explained his presence. "I was hired to check up on Glen by a family member of one of his girlfriends whose death was considered a suicide."

Cassie looked at her brother, curious. "Hired? What do you do?"

He smiled blandly, a hint of his Manchester accent coming through. "Let's not worry about the details, love. Basically, I was hired to watch him and learned he's a nasty piece of work. Been transferred from school to school because of his views of women, and his track record with wives and girlfriends haven't been great either."

"Wives?"

He nodded. "When I discovered he was in your building I nearly went mad. He had a pattern with the ladies and you seemed to fit his type. Unfortunately, I was right."

"But why didn't you come to me?"

"I wasn't sure how I'd be received." He rubbed his knuckles against his chin. "I'm not exactly a family man and you know I don't get on well with Melody and Lewis."

She wasn’t close to her brother and sister either. "Join the club."

"Besides, with Drake in the picture I didn't let myself get too worried. Although I wasn't quite sure of him either."

She studied her brother for a moment. It had been years since she'd seen him, yet he still looked the same—remote, distant, unsure. "I used to be angry at you. I thought you'd abandoned us, abandoned me," she clarified. "But now I understand. You had to escape."

His voice tightened. "I couldn't tolerate that woman one more day. You weren't the only one she..." He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts. "When you were old enough I left. But I couldn't stay away. After Simone's husband knocked her off I kept thinking about you and worrying about you, hoping that you wouldn't be the same. I wasn't too keen with your first husband and let him know it. I’ve kept a steady eye on you, wanting to be close, but not knowing how."

Cassie squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you're here now."

He glanced at Drake, who was pacing the balcony and smoking. "I think you chose yourself a decent bloke this time. I don't have to look after you anymore."

"No, but I'd like to keep you around. Mom doesn't like him either."

"Then we'll definitely get on." He kissed her on the forehead and left a number where she could reach him, then left.

Cassie immediately took a shower. When she was through, she found Drake sitting on the couch still smoking.

"What is so wrong that you need to puff away like a ganja man?" she asked.

He flashed her a glare so fierce she coiled away.

"I know. Stupid question, but you can't be blaming me for this."

"I'm not. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. Considering." She stood behind him and leaned against the couch. "You know, for such a romantic guy, Glen is a terrible kisser."

"Cassie," he warned.

"Please, Drake, don't make me take this seriously," she pleaded softly. "Not tonight. It's too awful."

It was the tears brimming in her eyes that stopped him. He took her injured hand and kissed the bandage. "Okay, not tonight, but tomorrow."

She nodded.

He glanced around as if the very sight of the place offended him. "Don't you have an ashtray?"

"No, I don't smoke."

"Of course you don't." He grabbed a saucer from the cabinet and tapped his ashes into it. "If there were no law, I would have snapped his body in two. Unfortunately, your brother is very persuasive."