What She Doesn't Know (25 page)

“Damn you, Rita.” Not only for staying, but for parting with those words that revealed too much of her soul.

She winced at his words, at the passion in them that surprised even him. He walked away from her, wishing he could walk away from all of this. But he owed Brian, and he certainly couldn’t leave Rita to handle it alone.

Outside, remnants from the crowd wandered in the streets, loaded down with beads, not a care in the world other than planning for the next parade. Someone out there lurked with other intentions, ones he couldn’t fathom. He turned around.
 

 
She was still standing by the bottom of the stairs, watching him with those analyzing blue eyes. Maybe once he could have stalked toward her and intimidated her into backing down, but something had changed since that first day here in the parlor. She had grown stronger.
 

He had one last chance to sway her, and it had nothing to do with his stature or venom. All he had to do was keep the pain from his voice, keep the armor tight around him. He stayed in the shadows, checking outside the window for movement.

“Her name was Sherry. Her ex-boyfriend was stalking her.”

He didn’t want Rita close while he told the story, but she walked over anyway. She kept a distance of a few feet, leaning against one of the gilt-edged chairs. He didn’t—couldn’t—look at her now, focusing instead on the lit stairs winding up to the balcony behind her. His gaze strayed to the two swords, increasing the ache in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to see the apprehension on her face or what he thought was concern in her eyes. He wanted to hate her for making him go this far.

“Damen wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d come home and find him sitting in her apartment waiting for her. We were friends, and she came to me for help. The police couldn’t do anything until he actually made a move toward her. The restraining order only pissed him off more, and he did everything he could to let her know he’d been within five hundred feet of her.

“I moved her into my apartment and later…into my bed. I thought she was safe there. I didn’t want to get a gun, or any kind of weapon, not after what happened with the swords. I was stupid enough to think he’d give up when he couldn’t get her alone. We were going to wait him out. I promised to keep her alive.” He swallowed, finding a wad of virtual cotton lodged there. They had made love hours before she died. “And she promised to be careful, to stay alive.”

Rita wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe he was getting to her. Maybe tearing out his guts would be worth it.

      
He continued. “Damen hated being kept from anything he wanted. I didn’t know he had a full set of locksmith tools. While we were at work, he picked his way into the apartment and unlocked a window so that when he was ready, he could simply nudge it open. He picked the room in the back where he could enter undetected. This time he wasn’t going to leave a tantalizing clue. This time he was going to make sure no one kept him from Sherry again.
 

“She had nightmares. I left a nightlight on for her.” He took a breath, gathering strength for the demons that would come in the form of memories. The demons that still haunted his nightmares, that lifted their heads and growled every time he saw the scar. “When I heard her scream, I thought she was dreaming again. Until I saw the knife coming at me.”

She gasped, covered her mouth.
 

“I shoved her out of the way and threw myself at him, not knowing he’d already stabbed her. When I saw her blood, and heard her crying, I wanted to kill him. She needed my help, but I had to deal with the bastard first.” To be unable to hold Sherry as she whimpered in pain and shock nearly did him in. “I rushed him. Wrestled the knife away. I would have killed him, but he got out from under me. He crashed through the window. Only he didn’t go all the way through and ended up impaling himself on the glass.”

She winced. Then she pushed away from the chair and came closer. “What happened to Sherry?”

      
He had scarcely been aware that he’d been cut, hadn’t noticed the pain searing his chest. He went to Sherry’s side, where she lay bleeding all over his bed. He held her, called 911 and commanded her not to die. But he knew by the glassy look in her eyes and all the blood she’d lost that it was too late. He pressed the sheet against the hole in her chest and held her tight until the paramedics got there.
 

      
With every long second that passed, he closed himself away, moving farther from Rita and the parlor. “She was still alive when help arrived, but the moment they took her from me, she died.”
 

      
As he sat there while the paramedics did what they could to revive her, he knew his father had been right. He could never be the good prince; only the bad prince who was cast to lose every time. He looked away, hiding the pain he knew wracked his features.
 

      
He didn’t know that she had walked close enough to trace a finger from his shoulder down to his chest. “You were stabbed, too, weren’t you? That’s how you got the scar.”

      
“The knife just grazed me.” He should have died that night, and Sherry should have walked away with only a scar.

Her hand flattened over the place where the scar was. “You left that little detail out.”

“It
was
a little detail compared to what happened to her.”

He had dumped all of that out to scare her into leaving, not to make her look at him as though she wanted to enfold him in her arms like a baby. Just the thought of that made his throat tighten.

“Did you love her?”

He swallowed. “I loved being needed by her.”

She cocked her head at an angle, studying him. “That’s why you don’t want to be responsible for me. You blame yourself for her death.”

“Of course I blame myself. I promised to keep her safe.”

“That’s a mighty big promise. You did the best you could.”

“It wasn’t good enough. My point in telling you all that was not to elicit your sympathy.”

“I know.” She placed her other hand on his chest. “Earlier you accused me of getting my feelings about Brian mixed up with you. I think you’re getting your feelings for Sherry mixed up with me.”

“I don’t have any feelings.
Go home, Rita
.”

“I’m not going to let you off that easily by dying,” she said, using his earlier phrase. “Or by leaving.”

He swore under his breath. She had no idea what she was doing to him. He felt himself spiraling downward, helpless to stop. “Let me get you a gun then.”
 

“No. I don’t know how to use one, and I don’t want to. I’m not asking you to make the same promise you made to Sherry.”

With a ragged breath, he said, “Yes, you are,” and walked to the kitchen to call the locksmith.

CHAPTER 16

Rita woke the next morning and looked for Christopher, who was sleeping on the floor in front of the bedroom’s French doors. He’d taken off his shirt and kicked away the sheets during the night. His short dark hair was mussed. She knew he hadn’t slept much the night before; it was midnight before the locksmith had finished installing deadbolts on all the doors and locks on the windows. Even with that extra assurance, even with Christopher’s insistence that they sleep in the same room, and change rooms every night, he had still stayed up long after she had fallen exhausted into Brian’s bed.

Her mind hadn’t let her fall right to sleep, either. She kept seeing the eerie masked face in the darkness, kept replaying Christopher’s words. He had opened himself up to her, yet he seemed further away than ever.

Probably because he hated her for making him tell that awful story, more so since it hadn’t scared her away.

She got out of bed and told herself she would not pause and look at him. He was lying on his back with one arm slung across his stomach. She looked at the scar in a whole new way, and knew that every time he saw it, he must be reminded of his failed promise.
 

Well, that resolve lasted long.

She couldn’t help it. He had a beautiful body, at least as much as she could see of it. Skin smooth and taut, stomach flat and hard, and nipples tight from the cool air in the room. She found herself wanting to pull up the white blanket to cover him but stopped herself. For one terrible moment, she envied Sherry for having shared a bed with him, and more than that.
 

After a hot shower, she went downstairs. She smelled coffee and told herself that the jump of her heartbeat was only because of the spicy coffee and not the spicy gumbo that would be in the kitchen.

He was wearing white sweats and looked just as sexy and disheveled as he had the previous morning, with a fair amount of stubble darkening his face. She’d always told herself that having a man around in the mornings would throw off her whole routine. As she took him in, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug in hand, she wondered if routine was such a good thing after all.

“I could get used to this…coffee,” she added quickly. She accepted the mug he poured for her.
 

“It’s addicting, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Addicting. “How’d you sleep?”

“I feel hung-over.”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” As those words that had come so easily from her mouth sunk in, she realized what she was saying.

“Oh, yes, I do.” He finished his mug and rinsed it out. “I’m going to take a shower, then we’ll go to the hospital.”

She reached out and touched his arm, making him pause. “Christopher, I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was sorry for, but it included making him tell her about Sherry. He nodded and then continued on. Apology accepted. Maybe. She glanced out the back window and sipped her coffee.

When one of the trees that separated the two yards moved, she narrowed her eyes and stared at it. Maybe she’d imagined it. Why would Velda be watching her? She didn’t have the allure of a mystery. Except she
had
been a mystery once, when Christopher tracked her down at work. When she remembered the scene, she saw Marty’s protective stance and that sent a stab of guilt through her. She owed her friend a call.

“What is going on with you?” Marty asked the second Rita identified herself. “You are worrying me out of my mind.”

“I know, I’m a lousy friend. Everything is so…complicated. I don’t want to get into all the details, but I can’t leave yet.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know if I’m staying for me, for Brian or for—”

“You’re in love with him. I can hear it in your voice. You are, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Not. Am not!”

“Are, too! Don’t deny it. I’m a trained professional.”

“Okay.” Rita’s heart thudded in her chest at the admission.

It took Marty a moment to digest that. “Okay? Just like that?”

“Well, you said—”

“I know, but I figured I’d have to cajole you some more.” Another moment passed. “You’re in love with him.”

“I think so. I’ve never felt this way before, but I have a bad feeling that’s what it is.”

“Rita, this is nuts. The man is in a coma.”

“I’m not talking about Brian! I’m in love with…the other one.” She let the words drift off, then turned to make sure he wasn’t standing there listening. That was all she needed, like the scene in
Jerry Maguire
.

“That’s almost as nuts! The guy gave you a nosebleed without even touching you.”
 

“But he kissed me last night, and I didn’t get a nosebleed.” Course, he’d taken her by surprise.

“Kissed you! That guy is bad news.”

“Marty, I can’t explain this, not even to myself. I’m probably going to end up with my heart in pieces on the floor, but I cannot leave.”

“Well, babe, you know I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. I’ll even bring the Scotch tape.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“Yes, I am and don’t you forget it. Call if you need me. And speaking of that, your mom called me a few days ago. She really wants to make things right with you. She asked me for advice. I told her, ‘Heck, Rita doesn’t even open up to
me.’
I think it would be good for both of you if you forgave her.”

“I know.”

“But?”

She couldn’t seem to let go of her anger.
 

Marty let out an exasperated sigh. “You could at least call her. She’s worried about you, about this trip. I haven’t told her anything, but that only worries her more.”

“I’ll think about it. How’s Pauline doing with the mirror OCD?”

They discussed the patient that Marty had taken over and her obsessive compulsion to look at every reflection she passed by. Rita was satisfied that Marty was doing a good job with her continued therapy. “Thanks for taking some of my patients. I’m going to stick with my three until I’m back in the swing again. I’d better get going. I’ve got a few more calls to make.”

After she hung up, she took a slip of paper out of her purse and dialed the phone.

“Angela?” Rita said when a woman’s voice answered.

“Rita? Is that you, girl?”
Baby-girl
, the voice echoed from long ago.

She twirled the phone cord around her fingers. “Yes, it’s me. I just…I just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello?
Hello?
What is going on with you? I’ve been worried to death!”

Rita turned to the courtyard. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Rita, you are my daughter.” She enunciated those words, as though Rita could forget. “Oh, hell.” Silence for a few seconds. Angela’s voice sounded thicker when she spoke again. “Let me worry some, will you? I’ve got a lot of worrying over you to catch up on. Why are you down in New Orleans?”

“Just taking a vacation, that’s all. I needed to get away for a while.” No need to tell her more than that.

“Then why is your friend worried about you?”

“Marty said she was worried?”
 

“She didn’t have to. I could hear it in her voice. You going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to keep punishing me for being a lousy mother?”