Bridal Reconnaissance (17 page)

Who else had fallen victim to the madman’s games? “A body? God, no.”

“Yeah. I put an extra deputy on your place. And Royce doubled up the security team you hired. They’re really good. She and the boy will be safe.”

But that assurance did him little good. The thought of leaving them while this threat lurked against them filled him with guilt and helplessness.

He’d let Amanda leave once, and she’d become a victim of this man then. If only his stubborn pride hadn’t stopped him from immediately chasing after her…

“It’ll just take an hour, Evan, not much more than that. I need something to link this murder to the one in River City.” And to Weering. “Just an hour.”

And it had only taken him a couple of days before he’d tossed his pride aside and gone after her, but it had been too late then. Could he take that risk now?

“She’ll be safe. Nobody will get past all that security. But you might be able to see something that’ll help us catch this bastard before he kills again, Evan.”

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair and over his unshaven jaw. The slight chafing on Amanda’s translucent skin was explained now. He’d hurt her. Even though he hadn’t meant to, even though he’d been as gentle as possible, it hadn’t been enough. He had to track down Weering, so that he could let her go. Before
he
hurt her again.

“Fine. I’ll be there in a few.” He reached over her
to hang the phone back up and found her deep green eyes open and full of questions.

“You’re leaving?”

“Just for an hour or so.”

Fear, maybe left over from her troubled dreams, maybe at the thought of him leaving, flashed through her eyes. He didn’t want to tell her about the possibility of another victim and see that fear increase. And be responsible for it.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, wishing he could accept that himself. “There’s an extra deputy on and twice the manpower from Murphy Security. No one will get near this estate. I promise.”

She nodded, then winced.

“Another headache?” Evan asked, concerned. She had needed her rest, and instead he had made love to her most of the night and then awakened her at dawn. “Go back to sleep. It’s very early yet.”

“Then where are
you
going? The office this early?” Resentment flashed in her eyes now, replacing the fear.

The emotion was one he had seen a lot of from the old Amanda.

She shook her head. “I—I’m sorry I don’t know where that came from. Of course you have a business to run, a life…” But still the resentment burned.

He could tell she thought his business was more important to him than she and their son were. She had thought that six years ago, back when he’d been trying to please her but still please his adoptive father by following his example in business. By letting it consume him. But she’d consumed him, too, with her passion.

In the end he’d pleased no one.

She stiffened and drew farther from him across the expansive space of the king-size bed. “I was gone a long time. I understand that you have other obligations, other commitments. After so many years, I can’t mean anything to you anymore if I ever had.”

“Amanda…”

“Last night I threw myself at you, seeking comfort, seeking release from all this stress. The doctor said I needed to do that, needed to release the stress instead of holding it inside.” Her pale skin flushed mottled red with embarrassment.

“So last night you were just carrying out doctor’s orders?” Pain flashed through him.

She shrugged, the comforter slipping from one bare shoulder. “That’s my excuse. What was yours? You just needed a woman, and I happened to be willing?”

“You’re saying I used you?” The pain intensified, blinding him. He curled his hands into fists so he wouldn’t reach for her and show her just how much he wanted her.
Only
her. No other woman would have done.

No other woman ever
had.
Not before. And since, he’d never even been tempted to break his marriage vows.

“I can’t do this, Amanda.” Unwilling to argue with her, he kicked off the covers and strode from the bed. “I have to meet someone.”

“We’ll be fine without you. We were for most of the last six years,” she said to his retreating back.

Just when he had thought she couldn’t hurt him anymore…

Her words still rang in his ears, even after he’d
checked in on a sleeping Christopher and slipped quietly down the stairs and out of the house. He nodded to the deputy at the door and then to the security guard at the gate. But he didn’t speak. He couldn’t—his emotion was choking him.

Nobody could infuriate him like Amanda. Nobody could fill him with as much passion with a look or a word. She made him crazy with loving her.

He had no more than backed out the gate when he stopped for an approaching car. A familiar-looking sedan. Ms. Moore pulled to the side of the road and got out, running up to his window. He waited until she tapped on the glass before lowering it. He didn’t have time for business. He had time for nothing but assuring the safety of his son and his wife.

“Ms. Moore, I told you there’s nothing that Marshall can’t handle about the business.”

She tucked a straggly lock of bleached hair behind her ear. “But, Mr. Quade, there is one thing he can’t take care of.” She pushed a file toward him; he didn’t need to ask what it contained. “Your divorce papers. You need to have her sign these so I can return them to your lawyer.”

His hands clenched the wheel. “You are way out of line, Ms. Moore. I suggest you leave right now.”

Heat flamed in her face. “Mr. Quade, I’m only trying to help you. You know that I—I care about you…” Hope kindled in her brown eyes.

How had he missed her feelings? Was he so self-absorbed that he had never noticed how she’d gotten too attached? “I’m sorry, Ms. Moore. I never gave you any indication—”

“No.” She reached through the open window to
lay her hand over his on the steering wheel. “I know, Mr. Quade. You couldn’t. You’re still a married man, but once she signs these papers…”

“I didn’t need her signature to divorce her, Ms. Moore.” She’d been gone so long, he could have been a free man years ago. But a divorce decree wouldn’t have released him from his commitment to her then or now. He would always love Amanda.

“I don’t understand.”

He shook his head and lifted her hand from his. “No, you don’t and that’s my fault. I should have made sure that you did, that you knew that I never had and never would think of you as anything but my secretary.”

Hurt tightened her thin face and dampened her eyes. “You love her?”

“That’s not any of your business.” He paused and said, “I have to leave now.”

As he drove away, she watched him. From the corner of his vision he caught the flicker at the blinds inside the house and knew someone else did, too.

A
NGER CHURNED IN
Amanda’s empty stomach. Anger at herself, not Evan. He’d done nothing wrong. She was the guilty one. She was the one who’d used him and not just last night.

Since the day he’d showed up on her doorstep, she had used him for protection and allowed him to put his life at risk to save hers. And now, knowing how much she loved him, she couldn’t do that. Not anymore.

She had to leave.

She flipped the blinds closed, the darkness soothing
rather than frightening. She’d seen the secretary’s love for her boss and knew it would be as unrequited as her own love for Evan.

Heat flamed in her face, embarrassment over her feelings but more in the way she’d expressed herself. She’d sounded like a spoiled child. Had she been? Was this the real Amanda Quade, the one she’d forgotten? Had she been so insecure that she’d been jealous of her husband’s work? Perhaps she hadn’t lost the strong woman she’d once been. Perhaps the woman she’d been was so weak that she had easily forgotten her.

And if so, then she could be strong now. Strong enough to leave the man she loved in order to save him.

She crept across the stainless-steel catwalk, which would have been more appropriate in a warehouse, to the room where Christopher slept. His black curls crushed on the pillow, he snuggled deep into the bed, totally relaxed.

Even in his sleep, Evan had not relaxed. She had watched him for a while, looking for any hint of vulnerability. The man had none, or so she had thought until she’d verbally lashed out at him. Then she’d seen the hurt and how deep it ran.

Would he ever forgive her for not telling him about his son? Would he be able to if she left him their son? Christopher would be safer with his father than he’d ever be with her while Weering ran free.

Could she leave them both and survive the pain?

The mere thought of walking away from them filled her with agony, weakening her knees so that she
slumped to the bedroom floor. But she had no time for self-pity.

She was the strong Amanda. She could do this. All she needed were a few things and a place to stay.

She regained her feet and rushed back to Evan’s bedroom, her gaze falling across the rumpled bed where they’d found pleasure again and again in the night in each other’s arms. Her love for him and Christopher would keep her strong, would remind her that she was doing the right thing.

She had to leave before anyone else got hurt.

Because of the early hour, she dialed the number for Mr. Sullivan’s cell phone and got voice mail. She left a message with Evan’s number, begging that he call her back as soon as possible.

Then she quietly searched the house for the things from her van that Evan had said the security team had unpacked yesterday when he’d taken her to the hospital. In the bedroom across the hall from Christopher, she found her sad assortment of crumpled cardboard boxes and garbage bags. She had no luggage. She’d had nothing to pack after the attack and no place to go.

The only thing that didn’t appear bedraggled and pathetic was the garment bag for the last wedding dress she’d altered and should have returned to the bridal shop by now.

Regret sighed out of her. She had worked with this bride, altering the dress to fit more than the young woman’s measurements. The girl had wanted something simpler, more elegant than what had been available in the store.

This was more than an altering job. It was a de
signer dress. And as an image of her own wedding album flashed into her mind, Amanda realized the image she had designed it to fit was her memory.

Suppressed, not erased.

Hope flickered but she extinguished it. Remembering the past would do her no good, just give her more to regret leaving. Again.

And there was another memory.
She had regretted leaving Evan.
Perhaps she’d even been determined to return when Weering had attacked her. When he’d destroyed her life then, as he would now, this time without ever touching her.

With trembling fingers she unzipped the bag, white silk and lace spilling out, caressing her skin, reminding her how it once had when she’d worn it on her wedding day.

On a whim, maybe hoping for confirmation of the memories that teased her subconscious, she tugged off yesterday’s clothes that she’d pulled on when Evan had left their bed and she zipped herself into that wedding dress, the square neckline baring some of her shoulders and the upper curve of her breasts—breasts that ached for Evan’s touch.

Had that been what she yearned for on her wedding day? Her wedding night and her lover’s knowledgeable caress?

Desire burned deep inside her. Even after last night and all the times they’d reached for each other, she wanted him again.

From across the catwalk, the bedroom phone jangled. Careful of the full skirt and trailing train, she rushed to answer it. “Hello?”

“Amanda?”

“Mr. Sullivan.”

“Are you all right?”

His concern assured her she had called the right person for help. Still, she would have preferred Evan’s, but she couldn’t risk his safety anymore. Or Christopher’s.

When she had first learned of Weering’s release, she hadn’t been willing to trust the district attorney’s office for protection, not when the safety of her child was at risk, too. But now, to remove him from danger, she was willing to put herself at risk.

“Yes, for now. But I need your help.”

“Anything.”

His easy acquiescence summoned the memory of Evan’s secretary watching him drive away. Despite their age difference, did Mr. Sullivan have more interest in her than a district attorney for a victim?

She hoped not. She had hurt enough people already. “I need a place to stay. A new identity. I need to get lost from Weering and from my husband.”

“Has he threatened you, Amanda?”

“Weering, yes, of course. I told you—”

“Your husband, Amanda.”

“Of course not. But he’s nearly gotten killed over me. And I’m afraid that if I stay here, he will get killed or someone he cares about will. He’s a wonderful man, Mr. Sullivan, and his friends are nice people. I can’t stay here and have my presence put them all in danger.”

“There’s an APB out on Weering, Amanda, in Winter Falls and here in River City. We’re going to bring him in.”

She laughed without any humor and the heavy
dress dragged at her quivering shoulders. “For questioning. You don’t have anything to hold him. No eyewitnesses this time. All Evan and I saw was a man in a ski mask and dark clothes. We couldn’t identify him. It wouldn’t hold up in court.”

She might lie to put the animal away, but Evan wouldn’t. He was too honorable.

The D.A. sighed. “You know the system too well, Amanda.”

“And so does Weering. He knows he’s above it or he can buy his way out of it—”

“We can get him this time, Amanda. Your husband’s a powerful man—”

“Alive. But dead he’ll be just as helpless as I am. I need to get out of here. Can you find me a place to stay?”

“You and Christopher?”

Pain tore at her heart, a mother’s heart bleeding for her child. “No, just me.”

“Amanda…”

“It’s what’s best for everyone. He’ll be safe with his father. They’ll both be safe if I’m gone. Help me. Please.”

The D.A. sighed. “I’ll see what I can do and call you back.”