Trust in Me (20 page)

He fixed his gaze back on her face, keeping his voice as even as he could. “And?”

She blinked slowly, taking long seconds before lifting her dark lashes again. “You can’t—” She stopped, as if her throat closed on her. “You can’t brush
that
under the rug, Locke. It’s not something you can ignore.”

“I’m not the one ignoring it.”

Her jaw worked, the tendons twitching at the side the only evidence of the way she ground her teeth together.

“This doesn’t change who you are to me. It doesn’t change what I think of you.” He reached for her hand, tugging her back to the space between his open knees.

She came, warily. That was okay, so long as she was in the circle of his arms. As long as she never feared being there.

“Unless you count me thanking God from now to eternity that you were strong enough to have survived.”

She rejected that, as he knew she would. “Sometimes I don’t think I did.”

“Yes, you did. You’re here with me, right now, far from that nightmare.”

“
Pieces
of me are here.” She still frowned, but the long silence seemed to have sapped the heat of her defensiveness. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just a figment of my own imagination. Someone I made up who was courageous, spirited.” She touched his cheek, staring at him as if he were something special. “Brave enough to risk everything for a man like you.”

He cupped her fingers against his face.

“But in the end, underneath it all, I’m still hiding. Still lying to everybody. Still completely terrified of my own life.”

“
Everyone’s
terrified, baby.” He certainly was. So far beyond scared he didn’t have words. “No one wants to lose what’s important to them. There’s nothing wrong with that. When I think about what you’ve been through, how close I came to never knowing you…” He bowed his forehead to hers, breathing her in. She was here, she was real. She’d survived. He clutched that knowledge as tightly as he could, because anything less than that was simply a concept he couldn’t accept. “What matters is that you’re here now. That you’re not shutting me out anymore.”

Her attempt to smile hurt his heart. “I had to. I had to put Kayla in a box. I had to forget her.”

He understood that. She did what she had to in order to move on. But the past never let go as easily as people wanted. “That’s fine, but you can’t cut her out like she never existed. That’s how we end up with ghosts. Ghosts haunt.”

Her voice was almost soundless. “But I’m not her anymore. I don’t
want
to be her anymore.”

“So don’t be.” Simplest solution he could think of. “We decide who we are, who we want to be. You chose to make something more of your life than what that bastard tried to force you into, and you did it. If that’s not something to be proud of, I don’t know what is.”

She relaxed in his hold, and he could tell she’d finally started considering if he was telling her the truth. Maybe it was pushing, he wasn’t the best judge of that, but he wasn’t losing the opportunity to get the most important thing he had to say across.

“I love you no matter who you are. Kayla, Susie, hell, you can call yourself Glenda the Good Witch for all I care. Just love me back and I’ll be happy.”

Her mouth quirked, making him want to tilt her chin so he could taste it. “I always thought, if you knew all of it, you really would go find some other girl.” Her fingers curled around the back of his neck. Holding on tight. “I’m still a coward.”

“No. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.” He nuzzled the top of her cheek. “I don’t know if you’ll ever believe me, but it’s true.”

He tasted salt on the edge of his lip, felt the hot moisture as another tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Not like earlier, when she’d cried so uncontrollably. For now, the storm of her fear seemed to have spent itself.

Someday,
he vowed
, you’ll only cry happy tears…

“Come home with me tonight. Give us time to make a plan. Whether we go or we stay, we do it together from now on.”

It took some time, time he willingly offered, before she finally nodded and gave him the answer he’d waited all his life for.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Locke leaned back in the chair next to his bed, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, booted feet crossed at the ankles while he scratched at the back of his head in frustration. “We’ve been through this and through this. I can’t see another way.”

“No.” She paced the space at the foot of his bed in her big sleep shirt and bedraggled pink chenille robe, the warmth from the double-sided fireplace keeping the carpet under her bare toes warm. Or possibly, it was the hole she was stalking into that carpet doing the job.

For nearly a week, they’d been hashing this out and getting nowhere. At first, they’d stayed in the house, sorting out what they were going to do, but that kind of existence couldn’t go on forever. Mostly because they were starting to get on each other’s nerves by talking in circles, but also because she just couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping through her fingers faster than before. She had to insist they spend at least some time in the day at their stores to get some space from the topic, though hers had mostly been spent packing up her apartment.

How such a small space could hold so much, particularly when owned by a woman who didn’t think she’d put down any roots, she couldn’t explain. Each day she’d come back with a few boxes—patently ignoring Locke’s epically pleased expression as he loaded them into the back of his truck—and there were still more to sort out.

Or maybe it was simply taking so long because she was distracted by the growing sense of danger. The locks were always in place, she never went near the windows, but still, she could feel it. Like pressure on the back of her neck.

It wasn’t her fear, though she knew that’s what Locke wanted to call it. It was different. A watchfulness she couldn’t shake. It made her skin crawl at times. Like she was being followed, but she couldn’t tell by whom. Nothing was different, no one was there she didn’t recognize. But the notion wouldn’t go away. She could feel the danger rising like she did the colder and colder weather of winter settling over the land. Normally, she’d already be gone.

Instead, here they went again…

“You want to stay in RDC,” Locke droned, sounding as frustrated as she felt.

“Yes.” They’d come to that conclusion quickly. No matter how he claimed he could uproot, she refused to tear him from his family. And, though she rated it far lower in the consideration process, she didn’t want to leave either. The kindness of the people, her sense of belonging to the community. Those were a rare gift and she couldn’t quite bring herself to give them up. Ultimately, the final reason for staying, one that stilled even the coward in her, was the most practical of all: Penelope Montenga. As a high-risk pregnancy, she needed to have a doctor she could trust nearby.

“But you don’t want anyone to know what’s going on with your ex?”

“No.” Just the thought of it had her stomach knotting.

“The elder twins could—”

“If you bring up using them as bodyguards during the workday one more time…” The first time he did, she’d just laughed. Until she realized he was serious.

“We both have to work, Suze.” Even with their partial hours and him being home more, he was starting to get behind on his woodworking schedule, though he hadn’t said as much. Which was why she’d forced him into the Boathouse on the sixth day, for as many hours as she could get him to stay in there. He’d eventually come out, relaxed and revived, covered in sawdust and sweat.

Who knew the only thing sexier than Locke soaking in a hot bath was Dirty Locke? Dirty,
dusty
Locke, in worn jeans, walking her way, peeling his work gloves off his hands, that gleam in his eye and the tiniest lift to the corner of his mouth.

They didn’t get a lot of talking done the sixth night.

“I know.” Amanda had offered to handle the day-to-day until she and Locke had worked everything out, but Susie didn’t like putting that much on her friend’s shoulders. If they were going to stay, they needed to get back to their regular routines. To be honest, she was starting to lose her mind, not having much to occupy herself with in the evenings but worrying.

“Cole is trustworthy.” Of course he was. If he wasn’t, the loveable geek would never have been allowed near Amanda. But that wasn’t what bothered her.

“He tells Amanda everything. No.” Things may have been strained between them lately, but she didn’t want her relationship with Amanda to change any further. And she knew it would. She couldn’t face seeing the pity in Cole’s eyes, either. He was too smart not to put the pieces together if she let Locke bring him into this mess.

She started another lap, wishing he had a rug or something she could kick.

“At least let me get him to dig into Hall’s accounts. He might be able to use them to track the bastard’s movements. He doesn’t have to know why.”

She stopped pacing. “He can do that?” And
would
he?

Locke shrugged. “According to him, he could hack the White House if he wanted. I always figured that was bullshit, but if anyone could pull something like this off…”

She’d never had a chance to have actual warning that Malcolm might be getting closer to her. Her hand curved over the nearest carved pillar at the corner of the bed. Idly, she rubbed her fingers over the grooves. “Do you think it would take him long?”

“Only one way to find out.”

She could feel Locke’s gaze on her. Waiting. While she appreciated his newfound desire to make sure she had a say in every decision concerning her past, there was something to be said for him doing what needed to be done and her having the luxury of being mad at him for it.

He was right. They couldn’t keep doing nothing. The itch in her senses was only getting stronger. She didn’t have much trust, but if she wanted this to work, she’d have to start using it. For this, she could believe in Locke’s judgment. There was no other choice. Pushing out a breath, she agreed. “Call him, then.”

Locke nodded, already reaching for the phone from the bedside table.

She listened, head bowed, still playing her fingers over the patterns in the pillar as Locke talked to Cole. The conversation was short, which meant Cole didn’t ask a lot of questions or it wasn’t something he could do.

She felt Locke’s hand in her hair a full minute later. His broad chest brushed her back and she let him steer her into hugging him instead. His chin settled on the top of her head. “He says he’ll see what he can get into and tell us what he finds in the morning.”

“Just like that.” Without asking for anything in return. She still hadn’t gotten used to that way of thinking the Jackmans had. They didn’t haggle over every little detail before getting anything done. They just did whatever they could for each other, sometimes with more familiarity than one might like, but it was just the way they worked.

“Mmm-hmm.” They stayed that way, him petting her hair and her doing all the brooding he normally would be.

At least it wasn’t bad brooding this time. She liked the idea of their baby someday having the kind of support his family gave. No one would tell her to get out simply because there would no longer be any welfare for her. No one would forget about her the moment she was gone. Their child would know exactly where she belonged. Just as Susie did right now.

If they could just be sure Malcolm wouldn’t come looking…

Locke nodded against her head. “We should get you to sleep.”

She let him usher her to the bed, though she knew she wouldn’t close her eyes all night long. She got in—into the side Locke had decreed “hers” unless she was interested in sleeping on top of him because the left side was
his—
smiling when he curved his big body protectively around her. His arm snaked over her waist, holding her close. Like having her there was the only way he could sleep. She absently ran her fingers up and down his forearm, listening as his breathing evened out and sleep eventually claimed him.

Hour by hour, the night passed, but the sense of expectation kept her waiting. Kept her thinking. How long would that lawyer wait? How long could he put Malcolm off? She’d used six days already. More than enough time for her ex-husband to decide what he would do with the information in his hands. Had four years cooled his anger? Had it changed him, the way it changed her? Or had his resentment of her only grown?

Morning came in its slow way, lighting the windows across from the bed. She closed her eyes when he rose and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Better for him to think she’d slept. To think the calm stealing over her was peacefulness. She wasn’t sure what it was. Resignation? She didn’t know. But it wasn’t fear. For the first time in so long, she wasn’t afraid.

They ate breakfast and she smiled when she was supposed to. Nodded when she was supposed to. Almost by rote, her emotions growing quieter and quieter within her. She drove into town with him, placidly assuring him she was fine all three times he asked. She kissed his frown and told him she was simply going to set aside a few more things in her apartment for him to bring to the house. He accepted that with a nod, but not until after he walked into the store with her, checking behind every door and even going up to the apartment to make sure it was undisturbed. She knew he wouldn’t find anything. Breaking and entering wasn’t Malcolm’s style. Locke finally left, reminding her to call him if anything went wrong. He was only going to be across the street.

A few yards, really.

Not far at all.

But she knew, the dread climbing up her spine like frozen ivy, it would be far enough.

It took two hours. Malcolm never had been the type to rise early if he didn’t absolutely have to. She was sitting at the computer toying with the silver letter opener from her pen cup when the bell over the door rang. She usually had to be extra careful with the opener, as it was sharpened on both sides of the blade. She preferred to use it for opening boxes, when pesky packaging tape was getting on her nerves. Sometimes, though, she wondered if it could be used for other things…