If You See Her (13 page)

With all the shit Remy had cramming his head, did he really need to be so preoccupied with Hope?

No.

And what was he doing?

Turning down the drive to Law’s house and wondering, yet again, what the deal between the two of them was, wondering just what her story was, and whether either of them were going to tell him … and how he’d be able to cope with it once he had the whole story, because he already suspected he knew.

And if the true story was anything close to his suspicions …

Do you see me?

He stood in the trees and watched. Wondered.

He was careful, though. It wouldn’t be good for him to be seen. Of course, if he
was
seen, he could easily excuse his presence here. Not that he wanted to do that. He’d rather nobody see him, nobody notice him … all
he wanted to do was stand there for a while and watch Hope.

Watch her, and wonder.

Wonder why she didn’t run, when it was so clear she was afraid.

Watch her, and wonder.

Wonder what she was thinking, what she saw when she stared into the woods.

Watch her … and wonder. She puzzled him, really. Puzzled … intrigued him. He hadn’t ever had a woman like this that he hadn’t wanted to simply take. That had been the plan, of course. But he didn’t want to harm this woman. Odd, that.

The purr of a loud, powerful motor came drifting closer and he sighed. With one, final lingering glance at Hope, he withdrew back into the trees.

The sound of the engine interrupted her reverie, but Hope didn’t get up.

Law was in the house.

Scowling at his computer, probably, but not working.

He hadn’t done much work since he’d come home from the hospital. She was there to help him so he could work more, but since he wasn’t working … well, he could get the door, right?

Shivering, she drew her knees to her chest and stared at the trees.

No, she couldn’t see a face.

Couldn’t see a masked face.

But there was somebody there.

Somebody who watched her …

Why? Why was somebody watching
her?

Fear
. A small, quiet voice in her head whispered,
He wants to see you afraid. And you’re giving him exactly what he wants …

She hated that. Hated that the voice was right. Hated
that she didn’t feel she could shut that flow of fear off. Hated that she couldn’t control it.

And damn it, this had to stop.

Had to stop
now
.

And still, even though she was certain somebody watched her, there was a ghost of a whisper in the back of her mind, one that murmured,
“Maybe there isn’t anybody there. Maybe Joey was right. Maybe all of them are right. Maybe you
are
crazy …”

“I’m not,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m not.”

Remy studied Law’s battered face.

“Pretty, ain’t I?” Law smirked as he settled in a broken-down armchair.

There was a laptop open on the table next to it and idly, Remy wondered if he’d been working. Although he didn’t know how much the guy could do with a broken arm. He sure as hell couldn’t type with the cast he was wearing, not unless he only did it one-handed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody beat the shit out of me,” Law said bluntly. “And imagine that, somebody
did
beat the shit out of me. But I don’t have any idea who it was, or why, so if that’s why you’re here, I’m afraid I can’t help you. So … you can go now.”

Hell. “Actually, that’s more the sheriff’s department than mine. I ask around, do what I can when I can, but the hardcore investigating—that’s on them. There are a few things I need to go over, but it’s more to finalize things about … Hope.”

Law’s face tightened. “I thought we’d already taken care of that. She did
not
do this,” he said, his voice edgy, heavy with the first ripple of anger. “I thought we were clear on that. What in the fuck is there to finalize?”

“Oh, I get that. And yes, we’re clear on that.” Rubbing
his hands over his face, Remy glanced around. Even though he was glad she wasn’t in here, there was still a little ache inside—he wanted to see her. Even if it was just for a second. Man, he had it bad. So damned bad. “Where is she?”

“Outside.” Law closed his eyes. “She … hell. She doesn’t feel safe in here. Can’t sleep, isn’t eating much. I wanted her here so she could … well, that’s personal, but she should have been safe here. I promised her that, and fuck, did I break my promise, or what?”

“Safe from what?” Remy narrowed his eyes. His blood, already hot, started to race. Safe—Law wanted her safe, and that meant she had something to fear. Fuck.

“Life.” Now Law looked at him and there was a strange, bright glitter in his eyes. “You’re not an idiot, Jennings, even if I don’t think you’re as bright as other people seem to. But can’t you look at her and tell she’s been through hell?”

“Yes.” Remy thought about the way he’d felt the very first time he’d seen her. All he’d wanted to do was shelter her, protect her. Fuck her. What kind of bastard did that make him? She’d been through hell, and even from that first second, he wanted her so bad, it made him ache. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”

“Why?” Law’s lip curled. “Give you more ammo to use against her?”

“Why would I need it? She’s not under arrest, she’s not going to be.” Leaning back in his seat, Remy drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair and said, “She’s now a victim, same as you—I saw Nielson’s report. She’s the victim of an assault, same as you, only
her
assault could have killed her, and it’s worse, because everybody assumes she did it to herself. That’s one screwed-up deal there, and you know it. Shouldn’t we
have all the information we need to find out who did it?”

“And as you said earlier … isn’t that the sheriff’s job?” Law asked.

Remy cocked a brow. “So does that mean you’ve shared that information?”

“Hell, no.” But he wasn’t any more forthcoming either. Leaning back in the chair, Law looked at him, those shrewd hazel eyes resting on Remy’s face. “But I’m still trying to figure out why you want to know this—why you think you need to.”

“I’ve got a job to do. She was attacked.” It was the truth. It was also almost a lie, because job or no job, Remy knew he would have been out there. For Hope. Sooner or later.

As though he had read Remy’s mind, Law’s mouth curled into a one-sided smirk. “So this is just the conscientious DA doing his job?”

Remy stared at his hands for the longest time, unsure of what in the hell to say to that. What in the hell
could
he say? He
couldn’t
get involved with Hope, even assuming she might have once been remotely interested. But there was a hell of a lot more than just a professional concern on his part, and he couldn’t honestly say otherwise.

Feeling raw, exposed, he looked up at Law and as he met the other guy’s eyes, he realized he probably didn’t need to say a damn thing.

Law already knew.

Shit.

Coming off the chair, Law shoved a hand through his hair and, in a perfect echo of Remy’s thoughts, he muttered, “Shit.”

Then he shot Remy a dirty look and muttered, “This would be a hell of a lot easier on me if I could just kick
you the hell out of my house, keep you the fuck away from her.”

“Could you do that?”

Law snorted. “With Hope? Yeah.” He sighed and shot a glance at the door. “She’s … damaged. You get that? Damaged in ways I don’t think you really understand right now. You might think you do, but you don’t. And she trusts me. That means if I really wanted to keep you the hell away from her, if I thought you were bad for her—it would be shitty of me to do it, but I could do it.”

Then their gazes met. Hazel rested on blue.

Law sighed and said, “I’m not going to do it.”

Then he came to his feet. Immediately, he winced and pressed a hand to his ribs.

Just a look at the man was enough to tell he still hurt like hell, Remy thought, watching as Law made his way to the big, arched doorway. He stood there, staring down the hallway.

Watching for Hope, Remy realized.
Damaged
. Fuck. That word was tearing at him. What in the hell did he mean?

“It’s her business,” Law said quietly. “It’s her concern, and it’s not my place to tell.”

Then he shifted hard hazel eyes to Remy. “But I know what you
think
you know. You think she’s crazy—you got the bare information you were able to get, how she’d done time in a mental institution, and you probably talked to that asshole ex of hers. But you don’t know shit.”

“I’m figuring it out—and before you say another thing, I
don’t
think she’s crazy,” Remy said. It would be so much easier if he could believe she was. Whatever problems she had, whatever was going on with her, it wasn’t anything like what her ex had made it out to be. “If I really thought she was crazy, you think I’d be here?”

Law smirked, but the smile faded, replaced by a dark, brooding stare. “After the hell he put her through, it’s a fucking miracle she’s
not
crazy.”

Anger was a living, breathing thing. Right now, it was a wild dragon, chewing a hole in Remy’s gut. Unable to keep still, he started to pace, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hit something—hurt something—no. Not something.
Him
. The man responsible for all the shadows in her eyes.

“He beat her, didn’t he?”

“Beating is mild compared to what he did.” Law shook his head.

Remy looked away. “He’s a cop.”

“Yeah. So was his dad. We all grew up together—the town’s golden boy.” Law grinned and added, “Kind of like you in that respect … but he always had this problem with not getting what he wanted. And he almost always got what he wanted, because everybody loved and adored him. Including Hope, for a while.

“They were high-school sweethearts. Hope and I, we were friends even then. Hell, we all were.” Law scowled, anger drawing his face tight and hard.

“Then after school, I left town, kind of dropped off the map. Stayed in touch with her, or tried to. Then she stopped e-mailing. Never called me back. I thought she was just … Shit. We fell out of touch. Both of us were busy. Life gets in the way, you know? For a while, I thought that was all it was. But she’s always called me back when I called. And if I e-mailed, she would always answer. That stopped.” He sighed, shook his head. “You ever wonder what it would be like to be a prisoner in your home? Never able to leave? Ever wondered what’s it like to beg for help and have nobody listen?”

That dragon in Remy’s gut grew bigger, hotter. He closed a hand into a fist and pain flared across his knuckles. Looking down, he saw the brilliant smear of red—
the healing skin across his knuckles had just ripped open.

Maybe Brody wasn’t the only one with anger management issues, he thought.

“Is that why she tried to kill herself? To get away?”

Law didn’t answer and a few seconds later, Remy knew why. The soft, quiet tread of footsteps had his heart hitching in his chest and then Hope was there, standing in the doorway.

She had a pair of jeans on, jeans that bagged around narrow hips, and a T-shirt that all but swallowed her slender form. Her hair was pulled back from her face and she looked like she could have been about fifteen years old … except those eyes of hers, those sad, wise eyes. The knowledge in her eyes wasn’t the knowledge any kid should ever have.

Hell, nobody should ever have to live with that kind of knowledge.

There were bruises in her eyes, on her soul, bruises and scars, and it was a sucker punch right to his heart to realize that he had added to them. Had almost added more. He remembered the look in her eyes as the nurse had tried to restrain her, force drugs on her that she hadn’t needed.

Once more, fury burned inside him all over again.

Fury, self-disgust, pain.

Shit, this was a mess he didn’t need, and the longer he stared at her, the more he realized he was already too fucking close to this. Even though he had tried
not
to let that happen.

It had been inevitable, though.

From the very first time he’d looked at her, looked into those sea-green eyes of hers.

He was already lost. Lost to her, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Nor did he
want
to do anything about it and it didn’t matter that it was a mess.

A big-ass mess, one bigger than he wanted to think about, and not just because he didn’t want to get involved with somebody who came with the kind of baggage she came with.

He was a fucking lawyer, and now she was a victim in a crime—a victim, a potential witness, and he couldn’t look at her without wanting to touch her, couldn’t think about her without wanting her.

He was screwed.

Man, he was
royally
screwed.

Her misty green eyes lingered on his for a minute and then shifted to Law. She lifted a brow.

Words passed between them—unspoken, perhaps, but they were there, nonetheless. Jealousy rippled through Remy. He wanted to push between and have her looking at him again, even if it was with that wary, watchful gaze. And how fucking foolish was that? He knew there was history between them.

History, shit.

That made it seem so mild.

Tearing his gaze away, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. He needed to get out of here, away from her.

And that was exactly what he was going to do …

She moved so quietly, made next to no noise. But when she moved in his direction, every last part of him knew. Felt it, sensed it. Looking up, he met Hope’s gaze.

She tensed and he clenched his hands into fists, the muscles bunching as he tried to keep his rage under control.

Shit, the sight of that fear in her eyes, it gutted him.

He abhorred the way people could hurt those weaker than them, but with this woman, it was worse.

With this woman, he was learning the meaning of
visceral rage
. He understood, now, why some people needed, craved revenge when somebody hurt their loved
ones, because he could easily see himself hunting down the bastard who had put that bruised, battered look in her eyes.