Vengeful Shadows (22 page)

She glanced at him. The streetlight glinted off the raindrops clinging to her hair and lashes. Her eyes were dull with loss and hurt. His heart ached at the sight of it.

“We need to talk about what happened,” he said, water streaming over his face.

“I think that everything that needed saying has been said.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this insane idea of yours. I’m not the person you thought I was.”

He moved closer and cupped her cheek, wiping away water. He had no idea if it was rain or tears. As usual, she wasn’t about to clue him in. “Let’s go inside and talk,” he said.

She shook her head and hurried to the porch.

“Tessa!” He caught up with her on the landing. “This isn’t over.”

“Yes. It is.” She raced up the stairs. Her shoes clattered loudly on the bare wood. She pulled her keys from her purse and unfastened the locks.

“I’m not letting you leave like this.”

“You’re not
letting
me?”

Finally, an honest reaction. “Look,” he said more gently. “I’m just trying to understand what happened tonight.”

She shrugged, looking over his left shoulder. “There’s nothing to understand. It was a lousy evening. I’ll see you around, okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. What about Weston?”

Her movement stilled at his question. The apartment door hung open, seeming to wait for her answer as intently as Zander did. She spun on her heel.

“What about him?”

Weston was the key. “What exactly happened with him tonight?”

“Nothing.” She flung the door into the wall and tiny pieces of plaster rained to the floor.

He followed her into the living room. “Why did you stand up for him?”

“I wasn’t standing up for him.” She smiled coldly. “What’s that old adage—don’t kill the messenger?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that everything he said was true.” Her voice was strained, almost brittle sounding. “I appreciate you getting out your shiny armor to defend my honor. But as you’ve noticed, I don’t have any.”

The hurt in her eyes cut at him. He was a fool. Did it really matter how many men she’d slept with? They were both adults. Obviously, they both had pasts. It wasn’t fair of him to hold hers against her. If he were being honest, the real problem was jealousy. He wanted Tessa to himself. He didn’t want to know about the other men she’d had relationships with.

Her shoes flew toward him as she kicked them off. He wasn’t sure if she’d aimed at him or the mat by the door. With shaking hands, she yanked off her jacket and draped it over the coat rack. The only sound was the steady beat of rain.

She nodded toward the door. “Please go.”

He squinted at her in confusion. “What?”

“Look,” Exhaustion weighed heavy in her voice. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your little sexually repressed librarian fantasy, but I need you to leave now.”

“My…”

“I know you had me propped up on that angelic pedestal, but it’s hard to stay upright when I have to balance on the bodies of all of those frat boys.”

“All of those guys…you really…?”

Her eyes narrowed. He hadn’t meant to utter the words aloud but it was too late now.

“What?” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “So, now that you know, you think maybe I should have performed better having had all that practice?” Her lips trembled, but she pressed them together.

His jaw tightened. “How could you think that after everything that’s happened between us?”

Ignoring his outburst, looked away. “If you were hoping to be my first, you’re about ten years and an entire fraternity too late.”

He moved toward her, but she backed away. “I wanted way more than that.” He laughed grimly. “I was hoping to be your last.”

She whirled to face him, taking a shocked breath, before confusion and doggedness clouded her expression. “Look, if you’re worried about catching something…” Defeated, she sank onto the couch. “I’ve been tested every year since I was a sophomore in college.”

He wanted to take her into his arms, keep her safe from the pain that haunted her. “Did you hear what I said? I want you, Tess.”

For a moment, she looked hopeful, but she shook her head and smiled sadly, the fight gone out of her. “I know you mean well, but…it’s not going to work.
We’re
not going to work.”

Zander shut the door and crossed to where she sat hunched over on the couch. Some stupid, primitive part of his brain admitted that he would have like to have been her first but he wanted far more than that from her. He just needed to figure out how to convince her.

Kneeling on the floor in front of her, he lifted her chin, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He hated the anguish in her eyes.

In a flash, he knew. Disgust filled him that he hadn’t figured it out sooner. Some effing psychologist he was. He didn’t deserve the tenure that had started this whole thing.

Her shock, the shattered wine glass, the other man’s predatory air. The clues had been laid out like a Hardy Boys mystery novel, but he’d been so distracted with the idea of her sleeping with other men he couldn’t put two and two together.

“What did he do to you?”

“Who?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Weston. He assaulted you, didn’t he?”

Shock lightened her eyes, and he knew without a doubt he was right. Fierce ire like he’d never known, not even when Julia had been killed, engulfed him. He’d had his hand around the bastard’s throat and hadn’t squeezed hard enough. Another more horrifying thought occurred to him.

“Did they all…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Tessa pushed herself from the couch and walked away from him. “I slept with Weston. The first time.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It was lousy. I was a stupid, little virgin expecting passion and magic. I even thought I was in love with him.”

Tessa walked around the perimeter of the room, touching objects, but he doubted she saw anything. “In the morning, I knew I’d made a mistake. When I tried to leave, he hit me. I fought but he was stronger. He threw me down on the bed.”

She paused so long he didn’t think she’d say anything else. He wanted to go to her, but he sensed she needed space. It killed him to stay away, but he forced himself.

“When he was done, he called his roommate in. I don’t even remember his name. But he…”

“You don’t have to tell me this.”

She whirled, meeting his gaze, her eyes dark with pain. “Little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” The words slipped out despite his earlier statement. Like a moron, he just kept pushing her.

“Oh yeah. By the way, Zander, I was raped. Later on, to exorcise my demons, I slept with a bunch of other frat boys. Makes for good conversation, don’t you think?” The pain in her voice was so sharp, he was surprised neither of them were bleeding.

He’d told her she didn’t have to talk about it. But the truth was that he wanted to know. He wanted to find a way to make it go away. To make it better. He wanted to keep her from ever being hurt again. He wanted to drag her ghosts out in the open and force them to dissolve in the light. She didn’t have a skeleton in her closet. She had the whole damn graveyard.

“So sex became your weapon of choice after the attack?”

He’d seen it before. Unwillingness or inability to deal with the pain and vulnerability rape caused, often propelled a victim down a self-destructive path. It was usually an attempt to reclaim her power the only way she knew—sex. Every situation she controlled, every man she dominated, brought back some of what her attacker had stolen from her.

This time the “she” in question wasn’t a statistic on paper. It was Tessa. He felt sick. Intellectually, he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. But emotionally, he couldn’t control the pointless desire to travel back in time and right every wrong she’d ever suffered.

It was all he could do not to drive back to her parents’ house and rip out Weston’s throat.

“Don’t analyze me. I’m not one of your dissertation subjects.”

He sighed. How typical. If he couldn’t deal with a topic he let himself slide into clinical mode, scrutinizing everything in sight. He shoved his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Analyzing me or judging me?” Looking utterly exhausted, she rubbed her hand across her eyes. “Just go home, Zander. Please.”

She turned her back, effectively dismissing him, but before he could argue further, she stopped and raised a trembling hand. “Where did that come from?”

Zander looked in the direction she pointed. The only thing out of the ordinary was a piece of white paper propped on the fireplace mantel. She took a step forward then froze. Her sharp gasp and pale face drew him to her side. Was she ill?

“Tess? Angel? What is it?”

She stared unblinking at the note. Sheer terror emanated from her quivering body. He’d seen that same expression somewhere before. With stark comprehension, he remembered Julia.

Zander crossed the room in order to read what was written there.

You took mine away. Soon, I’ll take yours
.

“What is this?” he demanded.

Tessa’s pale skin whitened further.

“How…how did he?” She sank to the floor.

“How did he what?” Zander knelt by her side so he could meet her gaze. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been here,” she whispered. She frantically looked around.

He slipped his hand around the back of her neck. Drawing her forward, he placed his lips against her ear. “Keep talking to me like I’m in the room. I want to make sure whoever it has left.”

She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “No,” she rasped.

“You’ll be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Her eyes flashed, and her lips tightened in anger. “I’m not worried about me,” she whispered harshly.

“Keep talking,” he mouthed.

She handed him a baseball bat from the umbrella stand.

“I’m sorry, I led you on. I thought I could do this. Have a normal life.” Her voice broke for a moment, but she swallowed and continued. “But, I can’t. Some things are just too broken to fix.”

The pain in her voice stabbed at him. He wanted nothing more than to hold her. Instead, he methodically searched her. She continued as he made sure the place was empty. He checked her room last. There was no sign that anything had been disturbed anywhere in her home.

He turned around. “We’re alone.”

Tessa hovered anxiously behind him, her gaze darting between him and the note.

He nodded toward the message, trying to control the snarl in his voice. “Is this from Weston?”

He wasn’t successful. Tessa flinched.

“No.” She dropped her chin to her chest. “I don’t know.”

He studied the paper. It was blank, except for the large, block lettering. Icy dread and a thousand fears pummeled him.

She pulled the phone from her purse and slumped against the wall. “I didn’t want you dragged into this, too,” she murmured.

“Dragged into what?”

Ignoring him, she punched in a series of numbers.

Zander stood in front of her. “I’m still in the dark here.”

She held her finger to her lips. Worry veiled her gaze as she observed him. At a loss for something to do, he double-checked the door and window locks. She turned and paced toward her bedroom, her voice a distant murmur, floating down the hall. He followed behind, unwilling to let her from his sight.

Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Had he hurt her so badly that any trust she had in him had dried up?

Tessa rubbed the back of her neck as she returned and hung up the phone.

“Talk to me.” He took her hand, caressing her knuckles. “Please.”

She took a deep breath, slipping into her bravado as if it were a coat. “I’ve been getting creepy notes.”

Cold apprehension curled through his body, and he had to try hard to maintain an air of nonchalance. “What kind of creepy notes?”

She allowed him to lead her to the couch and pull her to his side. He needed to keep her close. Keep her safe.

“The garden-variety, stalking kind.”

“You’ve gotten them before?”

“Zander, I volunteer at a crisis center. Sometimes, I get freak mail and even death threats.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal then slumped against the cushions.

Blinding anger burned through him. He fought to stay calm.

Her boldness faltered. She shivered. “Lately, I’ve been getting notes and other…things.” She gestured to the note on the mantel. “Usually, they come in manila envelopes to the library or the shelter. Never here.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. “At first, I didn’t want to worry you.”

A choked sound escaped him as he tried to think of a response that didn’t involve shouting his frustration. Before he could come up with anything, she opened her eyes and held his gaze.

“I was going to tell you tonight. After we got back from my parents’, but…”

Weston
. She didn’t need to finish that thought aloud.

Tessa didn’t resist when he wrapped her in his arms. Her skin was cold to the touch. He pulled an afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it around her body.

Staring blankly at her lap, she picked at the blanket covering her. “I tried to be careful, but he must have followed me home from work.” She spoke as if she were talking to herself. “I don’t know how he got inside. I always lock the door.” She turned abruptly to face him and searched his eyes. “The door was locked when we got back, right?”

He nodded. The thought of some freak inside Tessa’s home sent fear spiking through him again. Her apartment felt different somehow, as if a residue of evil had been left behind.

Jesus. The nightmare was playing out again, this time with Tessa. Would he come home some night to find her mutilated, lifeless body on the blood-soaked carpet?

Remembered moments of time spent with her played though his mind like a jerky filmstrip. Tessa searching the crowd at the gallery, peering into falling darkness at the street fair, her jumpiness in the garden at the award ceremony, her constant nervousness—it all made sense now. Some expert in human behavior he’d turned out to be. So blinded by his attraction to her, he missed the obvious signs.