Snowfall (17 page)

Even though she’d been out of her head for more than a week, he would have sworn at that moment she knew it was him. At the touch of his lips, her thrashing stopped, her breathing slowed, as the muscles in her body relaxed.

He sighed. “I love you, Mother.”

Her eyes opened suddenly, startling him to the point that he took a step back.

“The pain…take away the pain.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t ask that of me.”

She blinked, and as she did, tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.

“My son.”

“Yes, I’m your son.”

“Mind your momma,” she mumbled.

It came to him then, not in a blinding flash of clarity, but as a slow and final acceptance that this was the last thing he could do for her. Everything inside him began to shut down as he took a tissue from the packet at her bedside and made a small wad of it in his hands.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, and as she did, he put the tissue against her nostrils, taking great care not to put pressure on anything that might later show a bruise. Then he covered her mouth with his hand and waited for it all to stop.

She bucked once beneath his hand, which surprised him. He’d expected her to lie still and die. But as he watched her struggling to breathe, he supposed it was just the body’s instinct for survival that made it happen, because he was only doing what she’d asked.

Her tiny little fingers curled around his wrist, the brittle nails digging deep into the flesh, and still he stood his ground, stifling her intake of oxygen.

Suddenly it was over. Her fingers slid off his arm and onto the bed. He stuffed the tissue into his pocket, took one quick look at the heart monitor that had flatlined, and made a run for the door.

“Nurse! Nurse!” he called, as he dashed into the hall. “Come quick. Mother isn’t breathing.”

Buddy woke abruptly, gasping for breath, only to stare around the room in disbelief. It took several seconds for him to realize he was not in his mother’s hospital room and that she’d been dead for several years. He swung his legs out of bed and strode to the window. Feathery white flakes drifted past the glass on their way to the ground.

Hell and damnation, it was still snowing. God, but he hated the cold. And the snow. He hated the snow. There had been snow everywhere on the day of his mother’s funeral.

His stomach growled as he began to dress; then he went to the kitchen for something to eat.

The refrigerator was quite literally bare. After a quick search of the cabinets, he realized that if he wanted to eat, it was either order in or go out. Suddenly the thought of spending another night alone in this place seemed too much to bear. Hurrying back into the bedroom, he began to dress to go out. Out of curiosity, he turned on the surveillance device and listened to a bit of the tape that was recording, but he heard nothing and supposed they were asleep. He turned off the speakers and bent down to pull on his boots. When he had time, he would listen to all the tapes. Right now, he wanted to eat.

Once he paused and cocked his head, thinking he heard something scratching in the wall, and then he smiled, remembering. It wasn’t the rat, that was for damn sure. He’d sent that to dear Caitlin—in pieces, of course, but he’d sent it just the same. It seemed only fitting, since he considered her the rat in the woodpile of his life.

Only after he exited the building did he think to look at the time. It was almost midnight. Maybe, if he hurried, he could make Dubai’s Market before it closed. He started to jog.

Ten blocks later, he turned the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. The lights were still on. He could already taste the pastrami on rye. But to his dismay, when he was still about half a block from the deli, he saw the lights go out. A woman was coming out of the door, her back to the street as he started to run.

“Wait!” he yelled. “Wait!”

Angela Dubai spun, a look of fear flashing across her face as she saw a man running toward her in the dark.

Fumbling for her keys, she turned in a panic toward the door she’d just locked, seeking safety inside the store. Her heart was hammering against her eardrums as his footsteps came closer and closer. Suddenly the lock turned and she dashed inside, but before she could shut the door behind her, she felt his hand upon her shoulder. She screamed as she spun, flailing out at him with her fists.

He hit her without thinking, and when she slid to the floor, the keys loose in her hand, he felt surprise at seeing her lying there.

“Stupid bitch. All I wanted was some food.”

He picked up the keys and locked the door behind him.

She lay limp at his feet, her neck turned at a crazy angle, and he knew that she was dead.

“It’s your own fault,” he muttered, and began dragging her down the center aisle away from sight.

As he did, the glow from a night-light fell on her face. He’d been to the market countless times before. He knew who she was. The owner’s daughter. Her name was Angie or Agnes, something like that. Dark shoulder-length hair fell out from beneath the kerchief she’d tied around her head. But as he looked at her, fresh from his nightmare, he saw Caitlin instead.

“Caitlin? Caitlin? Why are you here? I keep killing you. Why won’t you stay dead?”

In a sudden fit of rage, he pulled out his knife and slashed the woman’s face. Without a heart to pump it, blood simply oozed.

“All I wanted was something to eat,” he said, then wiped his knife on her coat and put it back into his pocket as if nothing had happened.

Well aware of the layout of the store, he helped himself to some bread and meat and a six-pack of beer. With her keys in his hand, he locked the door behind him as he left. Several blocks over, he tossed them down a storm drain and kept on walking.

Caitlin woke with a gasp, her eyes wide with fright, only to find herself wrapped in Mac’s embrace. In that moment, everything that had transpired before came flooding back—from her wanton request to the abandon with which she’d taken him to her bed. Not wanting to wake him and face what she’d done, she stilled, her mind still in a whirl.

She didn’t regret what had happened. Regret for something that wonderful would have been a lie. But she’d used it—and him—in an effort to distract herself from the truth. That wasn’t fair—to him or to her. What had happened between them tonight meant nothing to him, of that she was sure. But it had opened her eyes to a whole new aspect of herself. All these years she’d been lying to herself. She didn’t disapprove of Aaron’s brother. On the contrary. She was smitten. Lord only knew how long the feelings had been there. Probably from the start.

Subconsciously she’d substituted disapproval for desire. She wasn’t his type. She would have to get over it. But how, when he had set himself up as her bodyguard?

Darn Aaron’s interfering hide. It was all his fault Mac was here. She could just as easily have hired a professional. Lord knows she had the money. And, unless something drastic happened, this stalker situation could go on indefinitely. Torn between the memories of their passion and her predicament, her thoughts raced, discarding scenario after scenario.

She glanced at the clock. It was just after two in the morning. She would think about it some more after she’d gotten some rest, so she turned in Mac’s arms, snuggling herself close against his chest and taking comfort in his presence—even though she knew it couldn’t last. And she dreamed.

“But, Daddy, Charlie is a nice boy. Why can’t I go out with him?”

Caitlin held her breath, waiting for her father’s response and praying it would be different this time.

Devlin Bennett looked up from his desk, distracted by his daughter’s interruption. He had to get these papers ready before the hour was over or he wouldn’t be ready for his conference call.

“Look, Caitlin, I told you why last week, and my answer is still the same. He’s just not our sort. Surely you understand?”

Caitlin’s eyes filled with tears, but she wouldn’t cry. Devlin hated it when she cried, and she needed his good favor to win her case. If he didn’t let her go to the prom with Charlie, she was just going to die.

“His father owns his own insurance company.”

Devlin’s chin jutted angrily. “And it’s going into bankruptcy.”

Caitlin’s cheeks suddenly blazed with color.

“How do you know that?”

Devlin shrugged. “I made a few calls. I will not have my daughter associated with failure.”

Caitlin’s fingers curled into fists. “It isn’t Charlie who’s failing, Daddy. He’s at the top of his class.”

Devlin glared. “Don’t mince words with me, Caitlin. I’ve given you my decision.”

Caitlin stood without moving, staring blindly at the man who was her father. She loved him, but at the same time, she often resented him. His obsession with social status and perfection was impossible to live up to.

“I’m busy,” Devlin said shortly.

Caitlin flinched as if she’s been struck, then lifted her chin.

“Then I’ll leave you to the important things in your life,” she said, and hurried out of the room.

The moment she was gone, Devlin knew he’d done the wrong thing, but before he could call her back, the phone began to ring. Torn between fatherly duties and the desire to close another big deal, his choice was easily made as he picked up the receiver.

Caitlin ran through the rooms of her father’s house, blind to the opulence of the decor. By the time she’d reached her bedroom, she was numb. Throwing herself onto her bed, she began to sob. Nothing was ever good enough for her father—not even her. The only thing he really loved was money—and power. Always the power.

She cried until her head was throbbing and her eyes were almost swollen shut. Twice the housekeeper knocked on her door, and both times she called out for her to go away. There was nothing to be said that would take away the pain in Caitlin’s heart now, but she knew that someday things would be different. One day she would be grown, and then no one would tall her what to do. She would find someone who loved her for herself and not for Devlin Bennett’s money. They would get married and have babies, and she would never be alone again.

Caitlin woke with a start to find her cheeks wet with tears. She rolled over on her back and covered her face with her hands. It had been years since she’d thought of that incident. So why the heartache? Why the tears?

As she lay there, she became aware of the sound of running water in her bathroom and suddenly remembered.

Mac!

They’d made love. And oh, what love they’d made! Tenderness coupled with a heat that had seared her very soul. She felt cleansed and, at the same time, filled with a joy she’d never known.

Was this the way it happened? Falling in love? Being blindsided by a man she thought she hated? But what did she feel for him—apart from an overwhelming gratefulness that he hadn’t turned her away? Was she falling in love with Connor McKee, or was what they’d shared last night simply a byproduct of the tension between them?

She rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes, savoring the memories of last night. She didn’t know what was truth, but she knew how she felt. Connor had made her feel things she’d never felt before. He’d made her feel safe, and he’s given her joy. Oh God, if only he was the staying kind.

Eleven

T
he answer to her problems came in the middle of her morning shower. And it was so simple, she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Of course it was going to pose a risk to her personally, but she was already at risk. If she was right and it flushed the stalker out of the shadows, it would be worth a few more anxious hours.

Anxious now to put her plan into motion, she got out of the shower and quickly dried and dressed. With no more fussing than running a comb through her wet hair, she slipped into her robe and a pair of warm socks and shoes, and headed for a phone.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Mac called.

“I’m going to make a call and then I’ll be right there,” Caitlin answered, as she entered her office.

It was only after the phone began to ring that she looked at the time and realized Kenny wouldn’t be in his office for at least another hour. Unwilling to wait to set things in motion, she hung up before the answering machine came on and dialed his home phone instead. He answered on the third ring, and she knew she’d interrupted his breakfast from the chewing sounds in her ear.

“Kenny, it’s me, Caitlin.”

Instead of his usual welcoming hello, there was a moment of silence. She sighed. He was pissed at her, and with good reason.

“Thank you for the chocolates you brought the other day.”

She heard him grunt.

“You know they’re my favorite,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes, but you have to swear to keep it a secret.”

Kenny swallowed quickly, almost choking as he did. A secret? Just between them? He liked that. He liked that a lot.

“What kind of a secret?”

Caitlin glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was still alone, and then lowered her voice.

“You know about the letters I’ve been receiving and the police and everything?”

“Barely,” he drawled.

“Okay, I deserve that,” she said. “But don’t quit on me now, Kenny. It’s not like there was anything you could have done, and at first I didn’t want everyone to know.”

“I’m not everyone,” he muttered.

“I know. I know. It was cowardly of me, but I think I didn’t tell anyone because, if no one else knew, then I could pretend it wasn’t happening. Only things have gotten worse. The day you came…when the police were here…”