The Heart Has Reasons (55 page)

She
gazed at him, wide-eyed.  “You felt that too?  I thought it was just
me.”  A blush crept up her cheeks and she looked away.  “That’s one
reason why I’ve been so depressed.”

He
frowned.  “I don’t understand.”

“I’d
never before experienced anything that … intense, and I’ve worried I might be
some kind of masochistic freak.”

“That
would infer that I’m a sadistic freak, and I can assure you I’m not.”

“Agents
Jarvis and Harris insist I’m suffering from something called Stockholm
syndrome.”

“I’m
familiar with it.  It’s when captives form a bond with their captors, like
what happened with Patty Hearst.  The problem with that theory is that you
never
stopped trying to escape.  And don’t forget, you tried to kill
me with that rock.”

“I
wasn’t trying to kill you.  Just … hinder you.”

He
let out a hearty bark of laughter that startled several robins from a nearby
tree. They took to the air in a wild beating of wings.

“You
nearly hindered my skull in.”

“And
you find that amusing?”

“I
do, actually.”

Her
smiling gaze lingered on him for a moment, before sliding away.  “Agent
Harris said that in times of great emotional turmoil all the adrenaline being
pumped through the body can heighten one’s … sexual response.”

“I
know from experience that’s true.  There were times in Afghanistan when
we’d be preparing to go on an especially dangerous mission that my erection
felt like it was going to rip through my pants.”

“Even
though you knew you might die?”

“It’s
the threat of danger that triggers the release of adrenaline.”

“So,
you think that’s all it was?”

“I
don’t know, and I certainly can’t speak for you.  Maybe it was simply one
of those peculiar confluences of time, place, and hormones.  Although, and
this is probably going to sound crazy, from the very beginning, I felt there
was some deep connection between us.  That’s one reason why I’m
here.  I had to see if that intense chemistry still exists, or if it was
simply due to the circumstances.”

Larissa
stopped.  Chase was surprised to find that they were back in front of her
house.  Next door, the curtain fluttered, and her neighbor’s face appeared
at the window.  “Is your neighbor always this nosy?”

“Yumiko
was quite upset by my disappearance.  Since the police still haven’t
caught the ‘kidnapper’, she worries about me.  Would you like to come in?”

“I’d
like that very much.  Let me grab something from my vehicle.”  He
retrieved the bulging manila envelope from under the passenger seat and
followed her up the walkway.  The blue Civic was idling at the end of the
block.  “Where’s your car?”

“In
the shop.  The transmission went out.”

There
was now an additional deadbolt on the door.  She unlocked both locks, and
stepped inside to punch numbers into the keypad of a brand new alarm-system
panel.  In the kitchen, she took the leash off the puppy, who noisily
slurped from his water bowl.  Leaving a trail of water droplets across the
linoleum, he ambled into the large, wire cage in the corner and collapsed onto the
tufted cushion.  Before Larissa had fastened the latch, he was asleep.

When
she straightened and pulled the 9mm from the waistband at the small of her
back, his heart stopped dead in his chest.  Unaware of his trepidation,
she placed the weapon on the kitchen counter.

His
heart resumed beating.  “Did you check to see if it was still loaded?”

Her
face flushed.  “Of course, I did.  I’m not
that
stupid.”

“You’re
not
stupid at all,” he hastened to say.

“Aren’t
I?  When my kidnapper shows up at my house, do I call the police as any
halfway-intelligent person would?  No.  I invite him inside.  It
doesn’t get more stupid than that.”

The
urge to pull her into his arms nearly overwhelmed him.  “Larissa, you are
not
stupid.  You invited me in because you know I’d never deliberately do
anything to hurt you.  I was only trying to determine if you suspected me
of breaking into your house again.  Though your suspicion pains me, it’s
good you’re being cautious.”

“Agent
Jarvis warned that you might decide to silence me.”

“Jesus,
what a fucking asshole.  I hope you didn’t believe him.”

“I
didn’t.”  Her eyes dropped guiltily.  “Not
really
.  But
he and Agent Harris filled my head with so much garbage I hardly knew what to
believe.  Please don’t take it personally.”

“No
matter how low your opinion of me, I’m sure it’s higher than the regard in
which I hold myself.”

“My
opinion might actually surprise you.”

While
she poured two glasses of iced tea, he moved over to the doorway to gaze at the
aquarium in the living room.  “Did all the fish survive your absence?”

“Brendon
took care of them.”

He
placed the envelope on the kitchen table and took a seat.  “He seems like
a good friend.”

“The
best.”

Setting
a glass before him, she took a seat across from him.  Nervousness had made
his mouth go dry.  He took a large swallow of the tea, pleased to find it
unsweetened.  Now that they were alone in the privacy of her house, her
nervousness became painfully apparent.  She fidgeted, her gaze flicking
everywhere but at him.  When he cleared his throat, her eyes met his
across the expanse of the table.  A flush crept up her face, and she
dropped her gaze to the table.

With
a great sense of relief, he realized her sudden reticence was not fear. 
Despite their previous, if brief, intimacy, she was actually shy with him
now.  Shyness was not something with which he was personally acquainted,
and so it came as somewhat of a shock to realize that he was shy with her as
well.

She
took a swallow of tea, sat the glass down, and raised her eyes to his. 
“Was jail really horrible?”

“Time
dragged unbearably, and I couldn’t stop worrying about you.”

“I’d
have thought you’d have been worried about yourself.”

“I
was.  But since I’d brought everything upon myself, I was prepared to
accept the consequences.  You were an innocent victim, and the guilt from
having involved you was tormenting me.  My friends kept me supplied with
books, which was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind.

“Although
there’s no excuse for what I did, I’d like to offer an explanation.  When
I got out of the military, Roach, Mad Dog, Travis, and I opened a
security-consulting firm in L.A., specializing in celebrity protection. 
Sparrow — who I knew as Hank Keswick — hired me to find you.”  He went on
to tell her everything, and finished by saying, “While professing his love for
you and his desperation to get you back, he came across so sincere that I
swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.”

“Psychopaths
are excellent liars.”

“I
guess Agent Jarvis probably told you I was Special Forces.”

“Actually,
it was Sparrow who told me.  I went online and did some research. 
Pretty impressive.”

He
shrugged off the compliment.  “After I got out, I was incredibly bored
with civilian life and abducting a runaway wife to return her to her husband
and children seemed like just another mission.  In hindsight, I can’t
believe how incredibly stupid I was.  Plus,
it was hard to turn
down eighty thousand.”

“Sparrow
paid you
eighty-thousand
dollars
?  That would buy one hell
of an engagement ring.”

He
frowned at her, puzzled.  “Engagement ring?”

“Never
mind.  It was something Agent Jarvis said.  And I actually believed
him so, clearly, you aren’t the only one who’s gullible.”

He
opened the envelope and slid the eight paper-strap-bound bundles of crisp new
hundreds onto the table.  Each bundle boasted $10,000 in metallic-gold
ink.

She
blinked several times, then swallowed, hard.  “Is this
really
eighty-thousand dollars?”

“After
all I’ve put you through, it’s rightfully yours.”

“I’ve
never even
seen
this much money before.”  They sat in silence,
while she stared at the bundles, clearly stunned.  Finally, she raised her
eyes to his.  “Chase, you don’t have to buy my continued silence.”

“I’m
not trying to buy anything, except possibly your absolution.”

“Honey,
if you didn’t already have that, you wouldn’t be sitting in my kitchen.”

“Truly? 
You forgive me?”  She nodded.  “In that case, consider the money fair
interest on the debt I owe you.”

“That
seems reasonable.”  She slid four of the bundles back across the table
toward him.  “But since we were in it together, we’ll split it
fifty-fifty.”

“I
gave you no choice in the matter, so it could hardly be considered a
partnership.”  He pushed the bills back across the table.  “It’s all
yours.”

“I
only want half.”

“Nevertheless,
you’re going to keep it all.”

“No,
I’m not.”  She shoved the four bundles back toward him.  “And we’re
not
going to argue about it.”

“Damn
it, Larissa, you are the most exasperatingly hardheaded woman I’ve ever known.”

“You
say that like it surprises you.”  She picked up one of the bundles and
riffled the bills with one manicured thumb.  “Now I can pay Brendon the
money I owe him, pay off my credit card,
and
get my car out of the
shop.”  She looked up at him, green eyes wide.  “I could even buy
another.”

“If
you make a transaction of ten-thousand dollars or more, the IRS will be
notified.  Shortly thereafter, they’ll be knocking on your door, wanting
to know where the money came from and why you didn’t pay income tax on
it.  And you can’t deposit it in a bank account.  You’ll have to get
a safe-deposit box.”

She
still appeared stunned, but nodded.  “I understand.  I’ll be
careful.”

“Larissa,
I know how insane this is going to sound after everything that’s happened but,
when you and I were together, it felt so … so inherently
right
. 
Could we start over?  Take it slow and get to know one another under
normal circumstances?  If we find there’s no longer any chemistry, I’ll
board the next flight to California and never trouble you again”

 When
she smiled and said, “I’d like that,” he felt every muscle in his body suddenly
loosen.  “So you don’t think I’m suffering from Stockholm syndrome?”

“Jesus,
I hope not.  Honestly, I don’t believe that to be the case.  There
was
definite
chemistry between us, and I can assure you
I
wasn’t
under the influence of any psychological syndrome.  In any case, if it was
Stockholm syndrome, your true feelings will rapidly become apparent. 
You’ll find yourself growing increasingly angry, and you’ll realize you truly
despise me.”

She
was quiet for a moment, then nodded.  “That actually makes sense. 
But if there
is
still chemistry between us — what then?  We live
twenty-five-hundred miles apart.”

“I’ll
move here to Charleston.”

“You’d
do that?”

It
was on the tip of his tongue to say,
I’d move to Hell for you
. 
“Only if you wanted me to.”

“There’s
not much call for celebrity protection around here.”

“Actually,
I thought I’d apply for a job with the fire department.”

Her
lips curved into a smile.  “You definitely wouldn’t have any problem
meeting the physical requirements, and you’d be able to get the occasional
adrenaline fix.”

Jesus,
she understood him so well.  “I’m staying at a motel not far from
here.  If you don’t mind, I’ll stick around for the next few days. 
We could go out to dinner.  Maybe take in a movie or two.  Take your
killer pit bull for a romp in a park.”

A
sudden smile illuminated her face.  “I’d love that.  I can show you
the city.”

“Is
there anything you’d like to ask me?  I know there must be questions you’d
like answered.”

She
nodded, and sat there for a moment, clearly considering what to ask
first.  “O’Malley’s an Irish name, but you don’t look Irish.”

“My
old man was Black Irish.  My mother’s Sicilian.”

“Where’d
you grow up?”

“The
mean streets of Pittsburg.”

“How’d
you get that scar on your face?”

“Caught
some shrapnel.”

“In
Afghanistan?”  He nodded.  “And that’s where you got all the other
scars, as well?”

“Most
of them.  A few were acquired back in Pittsburg.”

She
gazed at him for a moment, then shrugged.  “There’s so much I want to know
but, at the moment, I’m too overwhelmed to think.”

“Larissa,
are you
sure
you can forgive me?”