The Past Between Us (17 page)

Owen grunted something uncomplimentary and Thomas grinned. “Keep it legal. I don’t want to have to come to California to arrest you or anything.”

“Someone ought to arrest the group I’m fighting for committing terrorist acts against a law-abiding citizen who’s just trying to make a living. There’s one in particular that I want to… And there’s this reporter who…” Owen made a noise of frustration before saying, “Oh, forget about it. Talking about it makes my blood pressure rise. What’s up with you? Still chasing after something personal?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said with a sigh, deciding to drop the bomb. “It’s Cassi.”

“Cassi was the personal problem you were dealing with?” Owen’s voice rose with incredulity. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story but suffice it to say she’s in my custody.”

“Whoa. That’s…uh, well, isn’t it a conflict of interest of some sort?”

“Yes, but I’ve got it under control.”

“So what’s going on? Is she okay? Last I heard you two were on the outs.”

“We were.” Shit. He’d thought talking about it with his brother might provide some clarity but he was having a hard time just putting it into words. “She’s in a bit of trouble but she may have been framed for some of it. I’m trying to help her prove her innocence.”

“Sounds like you’re the best person for the job. No one knows Cassi like you do. And if there was ever someone who would have her back, it’s you. So what’s the problem? I can hear in your voice that something is tripping you up.”

“She’s different. Changed. She’s done some things that I don’t believe in. You know…she’s not the girl we grew up with.”

“Of course not,” Owen said roughly. “None of us are the kids we used to be. C’mon, Tommy…you’re not trying to hold her to some ridiculous standard that no one could live up to are you? ’Cause I know you’re better than that.”

Thomas shook his head, wishing he hadn’t called Owen. He should’ve kept this to himself. But it was too late. Owen knew the history between him and Cassi, but he didn’t know the new stuff. “She’s been on the run for two years, stolen identities and before that she was running with a party crowd, doing drugs and shit. Does that sound like the Cassi we knew?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s blunt answer caught him off guard.

“What?”

Owen chuckled on the other end and Thomas stiffened. “Listen, Tommy, you loved her so you had blinders on. She was always a wild child. You saw what you wanted to see. And that’s not to say that she wasn’t a great kid. We all were. But she had her demons, just like the rest of us. My guess is you’re judging her against a memory that was an illusion to begin with.”

“That’s bullshit,” he retorted, annoyed that Owen would even try to imply that he was that kind of idiot. “My memory is just fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue the point over a long-distance telephone line. Just do me a favor, try to remember that people grow and change and sometimes it’s for the better, not the worse. Okay?”

“Why’d I call you?” he asked sourly.

Owen gave a hearty laugh. “Because you knew I’d tell it to you straight.”

“That’s the reason I
shouldn’t
have called you,” Thomas growled, but he was starting to see Owen’s point. Damn it. If that was true that meant he’d been a real sanctimonious jackass. And the realization didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Thanks,” he muttered with residual ill humor, but he meant the sentiment.

“No problem,” Owen said, then drew in a deep breath as if he were resigning himself to a task he hated. “I have to get going. I have a meeting with the city council and that reporter is bound to be there, salivating at the chance to smear me in the local rag again.”

“Play nice,” Thomas joked, but added in all seriousness, “I hope it works out in your favor, buddy.”

“Thanks. Tell Cassi I said hi.”

Thomas said goodbye and the line clicked off.

He considered all that Owen had said and wondered how much he’d changed over the years. The perception he had of himself was that he’d remained the same with the basic core set of values he’d been born with.

But perhaps that wasn’t entirely true.

He never thought he’d be comfortable carrying a gun, yet he had excelled in weapons training.

He never imagined he’d want to attach himself permanently to anyone, yet he kept thinking how great it would be if Cassi were his wife and perhaps the mother of his children.

He swallowed involuntarily.
Kids.

He’d always bucked at the thought of having kids, using the job as his excuse. But he knew plenty of agents who were happily married with a passel of kids running around, happy as clams.

He’d never thought a suburban life was his lot.

Yet…the picture was beginning to have some appeal.

To have someone to share his day with, to share the ups and downs of life in general—he could see the value. And when he pictured children, he saw little girls with Cassi’s features. A physical ache made him clutch at his chest as if he were having a heart attack. But what if none of that was possible? Take away the obvious issues with her recent criminal past and there was still emotional baggage to deal with.

And if she got a judge who hoped to make an example out of her? She’d definitely see jail time. She thought just because she wrote down in her little book everyone she’d “borrowed” from then everything would be right as rain when she paid them back. If only it were that easy. He groaned. He’d never been conflicted when it came to the parameters of the law. Not so now. He was ashamed to admit that he hoped Cassi walked so that they could figure out their tangled feelings for one another.

There was a small part of him that worried she was putting on a false front for him to gain his sympathy. But if that was the case, he realized, it was working because he’d walk through fire at this point to protect her.

His head started to pound and he was no closer to a resolution in his mind than he was when he started thinking about it.

He wanted Cassi. Shouldn’t that be enough?

The question was rhetorical. And the answer made him feel like a miserable, judgmental fool.

She knew it was stupid and she was pushing the envelope on reckless but she hadn’t been home for years and she was, quite plainly, homesick.

The expansive colonial plantation-style home loomed over the driveway; its red brick and white sideboards caused her throat to ache as a wave of memories washed over her. Her father had purchased this house when he’d married her mother, entranced by the home’s history and elegance. She’d known nothing but love and freedom in her earliest childhood but as a teen her relationship with her mother had soured as she became closer to her father.

She’d been too young to see the cracks in her parents’ marriage, the loneliness her mother suffered from the long absences her husband took, ostensibly on business. Cassi had only seen the love shining in her father’s eyes when he returned. Of course, she hadn’t noticed that the love hadn’t been directed toward her mother. But Olivia hadn’t been blind and she’d withered into a snappish, nervous and high-strung woman who lived for her committees and service groups while George had flourished in the sunshine of unencumbered adventure.

As Cassi stared wistfully at the beautiful home, she suffered a pang of regret for not being the daughter Olivia had dreamed of having but also for not seeing how she’d abandoned her mother, just like her father had.

“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t do right by you when you were alive but I promise I will see the man who killed you brought to justice,” she vowed quietly, hoping her mother heard her and knew that she’d always loved her, even if she hadn’t been very good at showing it.

She’d considered pulling around to the horse stables to avoid drawing attention to herself but the thought of sneaking around her own home was something she couldn’t abide, not now. So she drove right up the driveway, proclaiming with her actions that Lionel could go to hell and that she wasn’t afraid of him.

Cassi drew a deep breath and then stepped to the front door and boldly walked in.

Familiar smells assaulted her and she nearly staggered under their emotional weight. The grand staircase curved gently like the flare of a woman’s hip and she smiled even though it hurt to remember.

How many times had she run like a heathen through the house, knocking over expensive things in her haste, dashing up the stairs without a care as to the value of the runner cushioning her steps as she tracked mud from the horse barn into the house? More times than she could count. Her father had always laughed at her exuberance; her mother had been distressed by it.

Off somewhere a grandfather clock chimed the hour and she slowly climbed the stairs to where her bedroom once was. The chances were slim that Lionel had kept the room as it was before she was exiled but she was already technically trespassing so she might as well satisfy every ounce of her curiosity.

She crossed to her room and pushed open the door. Tears pricked her eyes as disappointment followed. What had she expected? Every aspect of her influence or ownership of the room had vanished, replaced with chunky furniture and heavily masculine colors appropriate for a game room. An elk’s head stared at her where she’d once kept an antique clock imported from France. A large billiards table dominated the room and there were ashtrays filled with the stubbed remains of cigars littering the tables. How disgusting. The stale smell of smoke and liquor wrinkled her nose and made her angry all over again. He’d defiled her room purposefully with his foul habits and vices. She could only imagine what had gone on in here. The man had likely taken great pleasure in tearing down her things and replacing them with the tacky crap he had in there now.

“My decorating tastes are not to your liking?”

A voice at her back caused her to turn slowly, cool rage blotting out all sense of reason and precaution. “Hello, Lionel,” she said, narrowing her stare, wishing she had lasers in her eyes so she could fry him. “And no, I can’t say I appreciate your sense of
style.
”

Lionel, a good-looking man with his graying temples and easy but cunning smile, simply chuckled. “I’ve missed our verbal sparring. It’s not been the same without you. How have you been, dear stepdaughter of mine?”

She ignored that and chose to go to the billiards table and pick up a ball. With one good toss she could likely bury the heavy thing in his head. She hefted it in her hand, testing the weight. Yes, it was safe to say the eight ball could cave in his rotten head quite nicely. “You’re an evil man, Lionel Vissher,” she stated with a smile that was as cold as it was insincere.

“Oh?” He lifted one brow. “While we wait for the police to arrive, please share. I’m sure yours is a delightful story.”

So smug. She hated him with everything in her. She ought to get out before the cops arrived—she certainly didn’t need the added complication—but she was fairly vibrating with rage and she couldn’t quite get her feet to obey. Not yet anyway. She wanted to see his expression when she told him how he was going down. “I know you’re a parasite who preys on rich women. You look for someone who has recently lost a husband and is vulnerable to your charm and charisma and then after a reasonable time has passed, you slowly poison them to death.”

He laughed. “Yes, just as I thought. Delightful. My dear, you truly missed your calling. You have a wild imagination and I’m flattered by your estimation of my talents.”

“Only you would find flattery in something so damning. But you see, you screwed up and I’m not the only one who knows it. Remember the two old ladies you paid off to file false charges against me in your old haunt of Virginia Beach? Well, only one died. The other is alive and well and ready to press charges as soon as the FBI discovers the evidence linking you to that private investigator you hired to do your dirty work.”

His laughter died away and a cold hard look entered his eyes. “Like I said…your imagination is delightful.”

“You know what I find delightful? The thought of you rotting in prison with a very large, very
brutal
man with ambiguous sexual tastes for a cell mate.”

His lips thinned and his nostrils flared but he otherwise remained silent until a cool smile flitted to his mouth. “It’s been a pleasure. I do believe the police have arrived. I know these meetings are awkward, so let’s save ourselves the trouble and avoid it next time.”

“Getting rid of me so soon? I heard you were looking for me,” she said, taunting him. “Chasing down old friends and dropping business cards with the promise of money if they gave you information. You’re despicable.”

He affected a wounded expression. “Am I a villain because I care too much for my wayward daughter?”

“
Stepdaughter,
you miserable bastard,” she spat. “You’re the worst kind of villain because you hide behind false smiles and pretty lies. But I’m wise to you and soon you’re going to fall. I promise.”

“You poor thing. Still suffering from such rage,” he said, shaking his head in pity. “I’d hoped you were off the drugs but I see that’s not the case.”

She stiffened. “You don’t know a thing about my life, so don’t pretend to.”

He pursed his lips. “I know enough.”

A chill chased her backside and she gripped the eight ball tighter. She lifted her chin. “Soon you’ll be the one being escorted from my home. Do you hear me, Lionel?
My
home. Not yours. Consider yourself on notice. Things are about to change.”

Two officers appeared at the top of the stairs. “What seems to be the trouble?” one asked, looking from Cassi to Lionel.

“No trouble, Officer,” Cassi said, secretly breathing a little easier now that the police had arrived, even if they were there to toss her out. For a moment she’d felt true malice rolling off Lionel, as if he’d actually contemplated doing something violent. She rolled the ball into the corner pocket and smiled as she pushed past Lionel, saying sweetly. “I was just leaving.”

The officers looked to Lionel and he waved them off. “Just a minor disagreement. Thank you, Officers.”

The officers shot each other an annoyed look— another case of rich folk getting off using the police force as their personal guard—and walked with Cassi outside.

They waited until she drove away and then got in their cars, too.

Cassi held in the tears until she was clear of the driveway and then she let them flow as the need for vengeance burned brighter than ever before. “You bloody bastard,” she said from between gritted teeth. “I swear you won’t get away with this. I swear it!”

Just seeing him again, dressed in the finest imported clothing, walking the halls of her home with impunity, made her shake with unadulterated wrath. Her hands curled on the steering wheel of Mama Jo’s antique Buick and she pictured Lionel’s neck in her grip.

When she’d been on the run, it was almost possible to forget how much it had hurt to be cast out. She’d had a purpose and it’d fueled her when she weakened in resolve. But seeing her home again brought everything rushing back until she was drowning in a sea of misery that had been dammed for too long.

The temptation to run away from it all was strong but she couldn’t allow Lionel to win. Not after everything she’d been through. She couldn’t allow him to get away with killing her mother. It was her job to ensure he paid for what he’d done, not only to her but to the other women, as well.

By the time she returned to Mama Jo’s her face was streaked from crying and she felt hollow from the misery that had emptied itself with her tears but there was something else, something stronger left in its wake.

“Is that you, Cassi?” Mama Jo asked, coming from around the corner, wiping her hands on a dish-rag. She took in Cassi’s splotched face and the anger radiating around her and shook her head. “Did you find what you were looking for, or should I even ask?”

Cassi nodded. She sure did. She found a plan. She knew what she was going to do. She’d give Tommy every chance to bring Lionel down using the might and muscle of the FBI but if they failed and that scum walked…

Well, he wouldn’t walk for long.

“Yeah, I found exactly what I needed, Mama Jo. Thanks for the loan of the car.”

“Sure, honey,” Mama Jo said, eyeing Cassi with faint concern. “You need anything?”

Cassi smiled. “Nope. I think I’m good.”

“All right then…”

Cassi lost her smile as soon as Mama Jo turned her back to return to the kitchen.

Justice would find Lionel Vissher.

One way…or another.