EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE (17 page)

“Yes. Although I haven’t been around more than a few in my lifetime.”

It seemed ironic on the ride home they would pass a sign that said “Free puppies.” Hollin pulled her car into the driveway of the old Victorian. Angela would probably shoot her daughter and the dog both if she showed up with one, but Hollin had another idea.

Turning to face Chelsea, she asked, “Do you think you could help me pick out a puppy for a friend of mine?”

Chelsea practically flew out of the car, more excited than Hollin had ever seen her.

There were three puppies left. Two males and one female, they were told by the gray haired woman who greeted them. She grabbed a sweater and led them out to the garage.

Chelsea let out a squeal and pointed to a large cardboard box in the corner of the garage. Three pairs of black eyes stared up at them. Each ball of dark fur was cuter than the next.

“They’re mutts,” the woman said. “Not sure who Trixie was involved with.” She motioned to a gentle looking lab mix lying on the concrete floor. “Maybe the German Shepherd three doors down, or it could have been that Rottweiler who came sneaking around a while back.”

She reached in and plucked a male puppy from the lot and stuck it in Chelsea’s arms. “Here you go, honey.”

Chelsea’s eyes grew huge as she looked up at her aunt. She stood frozen in place, her arms wrapped around the pup as if she was afraid she might drop it. She didn’t know quite how to react when the puppy licked her face. At first she seemed shocked, then she laughed.

“He likes me,” she said, placing a kiss on the pup’s head. “Can we get this one?”

Hollin couldn’t contain her smile. “Sure. He looks as good as any.”

Chelsea fired question after question on the way to the car.

“What are we going to name him?”

“Do you think your friend will like him?”

“Is he going to get bigger?”

“Does he bite?”

“Can we name him Buster? I saw a dog on TV once, and his name was Buster.”

All Hollin could do was laugh. As she opened the car door to let Chelsea in, she noticed another car coming up the driveway and stopping. “I think Buster is a fine name,” she said, scratching the pooch behind his ears.”

After buckling her niece in, she shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. She recognized the big brawny man getting out of his car. Randy Swartz.

She tensed instantly. Planning to ignore him, she opened her car door and was about to get in when he approached.

He stood only inches away from her, and narrowed one eye. “Hello, Gumby.”

Hollin didn’t bother to return the greeting. She simply stared at him.

His icy blue eyes glowed with enjoyment. He used to like teasing her.

“I see you got one of my mom’s pups.”

She’d had no idea the woman was Randy’s mother, or she would never have stopped. But the woman had seemed pleasant, unlike her son.

“Yes,” she finally acknowledged.

He lifted a finger and trailed it down her sleeve. “Something to keep you warm at night?”

She shook her arm free, and haughtily tossed her head. “He’s not for me. I got him for a friend.” Not that it was any of his business.

His lips curved as if he was amused. “I bet I can guess which friend.” There was a bitter tone to his voice.

Hollin didn’t him the curtesy of answering. Taking a deep, tortured breath, she moved backward to lean against the door frame of the car. She was annoyed with herself. She didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of knowing he made her feel uneasy, but it couldn’t be helped. Noticing her hands were shaking annoyed her even further.

He continued to stare her up and down, then obviously losing interest, he spun around and headed toward the house.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she got in her car, started it up and backed out of the driveway.

On the ride to Griffin’s, she tried to concentrate on Chelsea and Buster, but couldn’t seem to get Randy Swartz out of her mind. Fear and anger knotted inside her. Was this the way she was going to react every time a man came near her? With the exception of Griffin, she could barely stand for anyone to touch her.

Look how she responded whenever Neil Thorpe got near her, and now Randy. She felt momentary panic as her mind jumped forward. Was she ever going to trust anyone again? Was she ever going to forget about that horrible night? Ever since she’d learned it wasn’t Griffin who had hurt her, she looked at practically every man with contempt and hatred. When was it going to stop?

Would discovering who the man was who had raped her help? Although she couldn’t stand not knowing who it was, let alone the fact that he’d gotten away with it, she didn’t know if she was up to facing it all over again. Going through another court trial after all these years was not something she wanted to do. But then, she’d made up her mind when she’d decided to move back to Whisper Lake that she would face her fears head on and learn to live with the past.

She supposed she had no choice but to keep pushing forward.

“Aunt Hollin?”

Chelsea’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Is this where your friend lives?”

Hollin hadn’t realized she’d turned into Griffin’s driveway. “Yes, it is. C’mon. Let’s show Buster his new home.”

She rang the bell twice and was about to leave when Griffin finally opened the door. The first thing she noticed was that he hadn’t shaved today. And yet the dark beard stubble added a certain masculine appeal to him.

He was wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt and his hair stuck out at weird angles. He ran a hand over the top of his head and yawned. He smiled. “I was taking a nap.” Studying her for a moment, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Although she was still apprehensive about Randy Swartz, she did her best to hide her mood. She couldn’t very well expect Griffin to have a “talk” with every man in town who upset or annoyed her.

Griffin’s gaze left hers and focused instead on Chelsea and Buster. He glanced up at Hollin, the amused look suddenly leaving his eyes.

“This is my niece Chelsea, and this is Buster,” Hollin said in a rush of words. “Chelsea, this is Mr. Wells.” She looked back at Griffin. “Can we come in?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, slowly moving away from the door so they could enter.

“Buster’s heavy,” Chelsea complained.

“Here, let me help.” Hollin removed the furry bundle from her niece’s arms and tucked him against her neck and chest. He smelled sweet and innocent. Puppy smell. She met Griffin’s gaze, which was slightly wary. So far he hadn’t done anything but shut the door behind them.

Hollin kissed the dog on the head. “Isn’t he adorable?”

Griffin sidestepped her question and looked down at Chelsea. “Is this
your
dog?”

Chelsea shook her head back and forth, her blond curls swinging with her movement. “Nope.”

Griffin lifted his gaze to stare at Hollin. His eyes narrowed with a challenging look. “Whose dog is it?”

Hollin found a perverse pleasure in the challenge. “It was the funniest thing. I took Chelsea for an ice cream, and on the drive home we happened to see a sign that said ‘Free dogs’, and so we stopped. We just couldn’t resist.”

She pushed the pup at him. “Here, hold him a minute. Feel how soft he is.”

Griffin held his hands out in front of him and took a swift step backward. “I don’t want to hold him.”

“He doesn’t bite,” Chelsea said quickly, her large blue eyes staring up at him with concern.

Griffin alternated his gaze from Chelsea to Hollin. She smiled. “He needs a home, and I couldn’t think of any place better than here, with you. I mean, you have all this space, and just think how nice it will be coming home to someone.”

His lips puckered with annoyance. “Can I talk to you for a moment?
Alone
?”

Her smile faltered. “Sure.” She set Buster on the tile floor. “Chelsea, can you watch him for a minute while I have a chat with Mr. Wells?”

“Uh, huh.” Chelsea got down on her knees and stuck her face in the dog’s face. She giggled hysterically when Buster stuck his tongue out and lapped her cheek.

Griffin took Hollin by the elbow and pulled her around the corner. “What are you doing?” Without giving her a chance to explain, he said, “I specifically told you I didn’t want a dog.”

“You did? I don’t remember that,” she lied.

“Like hell you don’t.”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down.”

“You’re afraid I might hurt the dog’s feelings?”

“No. I’m afraid you might hurt Chelsea’s feelings.”

“Sorry,” he said on a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

But it was too late. Hollin looked down to see Chelsea staring up at them with apologetic eyes. “Buster had an accident.”

Griffin opened his mouth as if to explode, but Hollin glared at him. “I’ll get some paper towels,” he said instead.

“Your friend doesn’t like Buster,” Chelsea said once Griffin turned to walk away. Hollin was sure he heard the comment.

“Sure he does,” she said, mostly to console her niece. “He just needs time to get used to him.”

By the time Griffin returned, his mood seemed to have softened. “I’m sure Buster didn’t mean to be naughty.” He sopped up the puddle in the hall with the paper towels, then swiped the spot with a wet rag. He excused himself to dispose of the items.

“Who’s Buster gonna live with now?” Chelsea asked, her bottom lip turning up in a pout and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Hollin bent down and hugged her. “I don’t know, honey, but we’ll find him a good home.”

“What?” Griffin asked upon his return. “Now you’re taking my dog away from me?” He knelt on the tile floor. “Come here, Buster.” The dog sauntered over to him, his tail between his legs. “If we’re going to live together, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want any repeats of what just happened.”

Chelsea’s face lit up. “You mean Buster can stay?”

Griffin reached out and pet the dog on his head. “Of course he can stay.” Buster seemed to understand because his tail wagged from side to side as he sat next to his new master.

Unable to hide her happiness, Hollin sighed contently. Then, she crawled the few feet on her knees to reach him. “Thank you,” she said, kissing him softly on his lips.

Griffin touched her face. “No. Thank
you
.”

At that moment, she loved him more than she’d ever thought possible, and yet it saddened her not to be able to share her feelings with him. She smiled regardless, hoping he could read her mind.

“I don’t like the idea of you sleeping alone in the guesthouse,” Griffin said. “Why can’t you come over to my place?”

Hollin rolled onto her back, trying to get comfortable on the ancient sleeper sofa. Which was probably not going to happen. The mattress was thin and lumpy, and there seemed to be a metal bar running up the center. It felt as though she was lying on a balance beam.

She clutched the cell phone to her ear. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. It’s only for tonight. The roofers said I’ll be able to sleep in my bedroom tomorrow night for sure.” She heard him sigh impatiently. “Besides,” she added, “no one knows I’m sleeping out here except you and my family. And Brad installed a dead bolt on the door today and checked all the windows. He said it’s perfectly safe.”

“I still don’t like it. And I still don’t understand why you can’t spend the night with me.”

She stared up at the dingy ceiling in need of paint. “I explained why. My family is still getting used to the idea that I’m working for you.”

“So you haven’t told them you’re sleeping with me.”

“No. But once they’ve had some time to adjust, I’ll be more straightforward with them.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“It means I’ll tell them about . . . us. There is an
us
, isn’t there?” She closed her eyes, waiting for his response. She didn’t know what had made her ask that question, but she deserved an answer, just the same.

After a long silence, he asked, “What do you think?”

It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from her chest. Smiling, she released the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes. “I just wanted to be sure.” It was probably too much to get him to say anything more on the subject so she didn’t push it. “How’s Buster?”

“He’s snoring at the bottom of my bed.”

“You let him in bed with you?”

“Not by choice. He wouldn’t stop whining until I let him up. I told him if he didn’t behave, it would be his last time. He must have taken me seriously because he put his head down, closed his eyes and hasn’t moved since.”

She laughed. “See what great company he is.”

“I’d rather have
you
in my bed. You smell better.”

“Thank you. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

He chuckled. “Smart ass.”

While listening to him breathe, she took the time to study her surroundings. The guesthouse needed updating. Fresh paint, new carpeting and furniture, a few pictures on the walls. Nothing had been done to it in years. As teenagers, she and Rachel used to sleep out here occasionally. They’d pretend they were on a camping trip and stay up late into the night, eating junk food, playing board games and watching television. Now, she and her sister barely talked, and when they did it usually turned into an argument.

She hadn’t given up on Rachel though. Hollin was going to get her to open up even if it killed her.

She stifled a yawn. “I’d better get some sleep if I’m going to meet you at eight.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

“Stop worrying about me.”

“There is that, but I have another problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I have an erection as big as a utility pole.”

“You’re bad,” she said, feeling a blush creep into her face and a tingling in her thighs.

“I’m going to have to take a cold shower, unless I do something about this. Any suggestions?”

“Phone sex?” Was that what he was suggesting? “I don’t think so.” Still, the idea had heat rippling under her skin. She felt the first signs of arousal.

“Don’t knock it if you’ve never tried it.”

“And I suppose you’ve done this before?”

“Never. But the idea does sound interesting, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.”

“Liar. I bet you twenty dollars I can make you come.”

Her eyes shot up, and at the same time she lowered her voice. “I’m on a cell phone.”

“Well, try not to scream out my name.”

She groaned in frustration and shook her head.

“That’s it, I love it when you moan.”

She wanted to hang up. That would serve him right. But she couldn’t. For as much as she knew she might regret her unseemly behavior, she welcomed the thought of losing control with him. “Should I take off my clothes?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he hissed into the phone. “I want you naked.”

“Hold on.” Setting the phone on the mattress, she quickly shimmied out of her boxers and tank top. Above her the ceiling fan whirred. She shivered from the cool, damp air licking her skin. After turning off the lamp, she picked up the phone and closed her eyes, wanting to block out any distractions. “I’m back.”

“Are you naked?”

“Yes.”

“Are your nipples erect?”

Hollin opened her eyes and stared at her breasts, surprised to find her nipples standing at attention. “Yes, they are.” She closed her eyes again.

“Touch one. Rub it between your finger and thumb.”

Although her embarrassment could not be alleviated, she did as he asked, touching her right breast and nipple. Thank God Griffin wasn’t there watching her. She would surely die of humiliation.

“Pinch it,” he instructed.

She pinched her nipple, lightly at first, then with a bit more force. Amazed by how turned on she was, she moaned helplessly into the receiver.

And Griffin’s breathing accelerated.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you naked?”

“I will be in about thirty seconds.”

Hollin heard several rustling sounds, then a whoosh of air.

“There,” he said. “That’s better.”

Her hand moved from her right breast to give her left one the same treatment. This was the most decadent thing she’d ever done.

“Smooth your hand over your belly and touch yourself between your thighs.”

As much as the idea shocked her, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want this. Her defenses were quickly weakening. She rocked forward to meet her fingertips.

“Dip a finger inside.” He was silent for a moment. “Are you wet?”

“Yes,” she breathed, feeling the silky warm moisture.

“Put two fingers in.”

She gasped in sweet agony and torture.

“Spread your moisture around your most sensitive area.”

Hollin sucked in a deep breath.

“Pretend it’s me.” His voice was husky and low. “Pretend my mouth and tongue are touching you, tasting you. Pretend it’s my cock pressed deep inside you.”

“Oh, God, Griffin!” The pleasure was pure and explosive. Filled with contentment and joy, she rolled over, the phone still cradled between her jaw and ear. “I can’t believe that just happened,” she said once she was able to speak. “But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. You were incredible.”

This is where it would have been nice to hear him whisper words of love, but instead he simply said, “Good night,” and disconnected.

Lying naked on the bed, she basked in euphoria for a good long while. But she wasn’t able to sleep. An hour later she was still wide awake. She dug around for her boxers and T-shirt and slipped them on. Getting out of bed, she went to the window and stared out at the lake.

Her mood instantly changed. Because under the moonlight a man stood down by the boathouse. He was smoking, and he was definitely staring at the guesthouse. She was sure of it.

#

Rachel could feel the ropes burning into her wrists, and yet she didn’t complain. She knew better. Besides, he’d free her once he was ready to leave, which would be soon.

He’d already showered, while her skin was covered with sex and sweat and nothing else. The sheets laid bunched at the bottom of the bed although she’d asked him to cover her. He’d ignored her request.

The empty gin bottle laid beside her on the bed. She caressed it with her gaze and silently cursed it at the same time. How could she hate something she loved so much? She loved being drunk. The pain wasn’t quite as bad then. She could block everything out and just go to sleep.

It was the mornings after that she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror, that she felt shame.

She’d thought she loved him at one time. But no matter how many times she’d slept with him, he still treated her like a slut. Like he had no more respect for her than if she were a bug on the sidewalk.

He was the first one to introduce her to rough sex, and she’d never told him “no.” She’d let him tie her up, whip her and worse. She supposed she didn’t have any more respect for herself than he had for her.

Yet he could wave a gin bottle in her face, and she’d turn to jelly.

But she’d grown to hate him over the years. And it was time he knew that she wasn’t going to let him destroy her any longer. Hollin was right. She was a terrible mother to Chelsea, and she needed to change that. Maybe with her family’s help she could get sober, maybe go back to school, like her sister suggested.

But first she had to deal with him. She had to tell him what she suspected. Correction, what she
knew
to be true. And too bad if he didn’t like it.

Using her elbows she managed to sit up, her wrists still tied to the bed frame. She stared at him as he stepped into his pants.

“I know,” she said, being careful not to slur her words. She wanted him to take her seriously.

He didn’t bother looking at her. He lowered himself to sit at the bottom of the bed and shoved his foot into a sock. “You know what?” he asked, clearly annoyed that she hadn’t passed out yet.

That was the usual way. He wanted her out of it. Maybe because he thought she wouldn’t remember. But she always remembered. That was the problem.

“I know it was you who raped Hollin.”

His posture became ramrod straight, but he continued to put on his other sock and both shoes before speaking. “You know no such thing.”

Rachel swallowed thickly. She’d watered the gin down before he’d arrived at the Peacock Motel. She’d wanted to be sober when she confronted him, or at least sober enough to speak without tripping on her thoughts and words.

“I’m not going to keep it a secret any longer.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Wells raped Hollin.” He stood and faced her. His eyes conveyed the fury within him. “And if you’re smart, Rachel, you’ll never say anything like that about me again.”

“I’m going to tell Hollin the truth. She deserves the truth.”

“She’s not going to listen to you. No one is. You’re a drunk. A slut. An unfit mother.” His eyes became angry slits. “Don’t you realize I could take Chelsea away from you? Is that what you want?”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, challenging him. “Then everyone would know about us.”

“Yes, they would. And so would Chelsea.”

She suddenly felt weak and vulnerable, but that didn’t stop her. “I have proof.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. What kind of proof?”

“You called me Hollin one night. That night that you were exceptionally rough with me. When you had me on my stomach and sodomized me.”

This time he laughed, but she could tell she’d struck a nerve. He’d always been obsessed with Hollin, for as long as Rachel could remember.

“I suspected it then, but it didn’t make sense. Griffin had already been convicted.”

His features suddenly hardened again. “Like I said, who’s going to believe a drunk?”

“Hollin will. Hollin’ll believe me. Ever since she came back, she’s been so sure it wasn’t Griffin who raped her, and I remembered the night you called me by her name. And I knew. I just knew.” A cold shudder passed through her entire body.

He quickly rounded the bed and came to stand beside her. Leaning over, he stuck his face in hers. “Do you want to die, Rachel?”

Did she? Sometimes she did. But not from his hands. Suddenly, she wanted to live more than anything else. She wanted him punished for what he’d done to her little sister. She averted her gaze and shook her head. He continued to stand there for a long while, staring down at her like she was nothing, then walked toward the door.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to untie me?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly opened the door, poked his head outside, and then shut it again. Moving toward the dresser, he rifled through his black leather bag. The one that made him look like a doctor when he carried it.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but when he turned she noticed the latex gloves on his hands. He moved slowly toward her, and all Rachel could do was stare at him, horrified.

Finally, a word bubbled from her throat. “Please.”

“That’s it, Rachel,” he said, smoothing a latex-covered hand over her cheek. “I like it when you beg.”

Tears slipped from her eyes, and her vision grew so cloudy she could barely see his face any longer. She felt the pressure of his hands around her neck, and didn’t even try to fight him. It was no use. All she could manage to whisper was, “Chelsea.”

“Don’t worry about her. Hollin and I will take good care of her.”

And then Rachel’s world turned black.

#

For some reason he hadn’t enjoyed killing Rachel as much as he’d thought he would. She hadn’t even struggled, like Mandy, or whatever the hell her name was. Maybe that was it. Rachel hadn’t fought him at all. The bitch! The fucking bitch had to ruin it!

He’d meant what he’d said about him and Hollin taking care of Chelsea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that before. He’d been so angry with Hollin lately, all he could think about was killing her for betraying him.

But since then he’d had a change of heart. Maybe he’d come clean with her. Tell her he was in love with her. They could get married and raise Chelsea together. But if she wouldn’t go along with his plan, then she wasn’t going to get another chance. He’d simply kill her. And she
would
struggle. He was absolutely sure of it.

#

Griffin pulled his truck into the driveway and did a double take. He certainly hadn’t expected to see the sheriff’s two-toned brown car parked in front of his house at two in the morning. He let out an exhausted sigh, cut the engine and opened the door. Buster followed him out of the truck and ran into the front yard to do his business.