The Devil She Knows (21 page)

Standing, Willow darted a glance around her. Coming to the studio had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. She’d grabbed her keys and phone and nothing more, but now she couldn’t remember where she’d set them down.

Maybe they were buried beneath the scrap material piled on the table. Shifting slowly, she tried to put the wall of her body between Erica and the table so she could search surreptitiously.

She had no idea what was going on or what Erica wanted, but whatever it was couldn’t be good. She’d been so caught up in the ravages of losing Dev that it had been easy to forget someone was stalking her, especially when nothing had happened since her workroom had been destroyed.

“Don’t move,” Erica’s harsh voice slipped through the room.

Willow froze, realizing for the first time that the other woman held something black and slender in her hand. Cold panic rushed through her along with a burst of adrenaline when Erica raised the snubbed nose of a weapon in her direction.

It took several seconds to recognize that it wasn’t a gun. It was shaped like one, but the bright yellow markings down the side and across the front gave it away.

Not that the sucker wouldn’t hurt her, Willow had no illusions about that. But at least she wouldn’t die if Erica went off the deep end and shot her with the Taser.

A sickening smile twisted Erica’s mouth. “A girl can never be too careful.”

Willow nodded, silently agreeing. For the first time, she truly looked at Erica.

She knew the woman. Erica and Rose had been friends, and even if Willow was a few years behind, she’d met her when they were younger. Erica worked for Hope at the
Sentinel.
But there wasn’t a single reason she could come up with for Erica to be pointing the business end of a Taser in her direction.

“You made him leave.”

An unnatural gleam entered the other woman’s dull brown eyes. If the weapon wasn’t enough to tell Willow just how close to the edge she was, that look would have been.

How could anyone have missed that Erica was unhinged?

“Who? Made who leave?”

“Wick. You hurt him. Just like Rose. And he left.”

Willow swallowed and shifted on her feet, trying to distract Erica while she resumed the search for her cell.

“I should have known you were just like your sister. Users, both of you. This time I tried to warn him, but he was blinded by lust and didn’t want to listen.”

Relief flooded Willow when her fingers finally brushed across the hard plastic edge of her phone, but it was short-lived. She couldn’t exactly pull it in front of her to dial.

Knowing she needed to keep Erica talking, Willow asked, “What do you mean ‘this time’?” as she tried to visualize the screen on her phone.

If she could just get it to dial someone, anyone, maybe they’d be able to hear what was going on and call for help.

Regret and guilt mixed with the manic glitter in Erica’s eyes. “If I’d known what Rose was planning to do I would have stopped her. You have to believe me.”

“I do,” Willow reassured her.

Her fingers, slippery with fear, finally hit the right button. The soft buzz as a line opened and dialed came to her, faint enough that she was hopeful Erica couldn’t hear.

“I was so angry with her when I realized, but it was too late. Everyone thought they’d slept together. Marcus went ballistic, threatening her and putting a hole through the wall next to her head. She called me, sobbing, and told me the truth about what she’d done.”

Willow sucked in a hard breath. Rose had never mentioned what had happened the night Marcus found out.

“Wick left. Before I’d gotten up the courage to tell him I’d loved him for years.” Pain twisted deep in Erica’s eyes and for a moment Willow couldn’t stop herself from feeling sorry for her.

And then the flash of vulnerability was gone, replaced by the hard edge of crazed anger.

“When I saw him at the masquerade I thought it was my second chance. Rose wasn’t around, so maybe he’d notice me. But the moment you walked into that room with your skintight dress and those ridiculous angel wings he couldn’t stop staring at you.”

Disgust dripped from her words. “Just like Rose. What spell do you Portis women use to blind him?”

Willow shook her head, unsure what the safe answer to that question might be. Although Erica didn’t appear to expect one.

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you hurt him anymore. Someone has to protect him, even from himself. Poor Wick, he has no one. Just like me.”

Erica stepped closer. Willow wanted to move back, but she was pressed against the worktable and there was nowhere for her to go.

Without warning, the barbs shot out of the end of the gun and lodged in her body. A jolt of electricity shot through her with a sizzling pain that had her screaming in surprise and agony. She collapsed beneath the dead weight of her useless muscles.

The pain stopped. Every muscle in her body ached. She tried to pull a deep breath into her lungs.

Another jolt hit. Her body bowed against the burning torment. And then she blacked out.

* * *

S
OMEWHERE BETWEEN
A
TLANTA
and Sweetheart, Dev realized that he couldn’t show up on Willow’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Partly because he was afraid she’d just slam the door in his face.

So his plan was to head to his house, grab a little sleep and find a way to talk to her in the morning. The conversation was too important to run off half-cocked. He needed to stop and think. Make sure he knew exactly what to say to convince her they belonged together.

But that plan changed about twenty minutes outside town when his phone rang.

Grabbing it out of the cup holder, he glanced at the screen. Everything stilled and then his heart began thumping painfully in his chest.

He tried not to let any of the hope or restless uncertainty color his voice, but he didn’t succeed very well. He answered, her name coming out almost as a groan. “Willow.”

But she didn’t speak.

“Willow?”

He was about to hang up, his heart plummeting into his stomach, when a muffled sound stopped him. Voices. They were faint at first, as if the phone had been covered by something but was suddenly free.

“When I saw him at the masquerade I thought it was my second chance. Rose wasn’t around so maybe he’d notice me. But the moment you walked into that room with your skintight dress and those ridiculous angel wings he couldn’t stop staring at you.”

He didn’t recognize the harsh, accusing voice, but he understood the words. And panic hit him full force.

Willow was in trouble. And she’d called him for help.

Dev’s foot slammed the pedal to the floor. His truck lurched forward as gas and power flooded into the engine.

“Just like Rose. What spell do you Portis women use to blind him?”

God, he had no idea where she was. He should call the sheriff, but he didn’t want to cut off the only lifeline he had to her in order to do it. Maybe she’d give him a clue. Anything.

He flashed past the sign into Sweetheart, uncaring that he was breaking several laws. He hoped Grant saw him. Please, God.

Helpless rage filled him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

And then the worst sound he’d ever heard filled the cab. The high-pitched wail of Willow’s scream. The phone clattered. And then it went dead.

Oh, hell. He was going to be too late.

No.

Almost crushing the phone in his fist, Dev somehow managed to speed dial the personal cell number Grant had given him several days ago.

He refused to lose her. Not when he’d just found her again.

15

G
OD, HER HEAD HURT.
Willow groaned and tried to curl her body into a ball. Everything hurt.

There was something wrong. She was in trouble. Alarm and confusion crashed down over her, flooding her body with a burst of adrenaline. She had to move. Get away. But she couldn’t remember why.

A soft hand brushed against her forehead. She whimpered, not because it hurt but because it felt so good. Soothing. Safe.

Slowly, her eyes opened and she stared up into a dark blue gaze.

“Hang in there, angel. Help’s on the way.”

She nodded. Reality was seeping back in, a black-edged nightmare. Or maybe this was a dream.

No, her body hurt too much for that.

The hard floor pressed against her. Her head was cradled in Dev’s lap. Rolling her eyes, she saw another pair of legs sticking out from beneath her worktable. Following the line of them, she realized they belonged to Erica Condon, who was unconscious, her arms twisted behind her back and tied together with a white strip of material.

She licked her lips. “How?”

Dev bent down, pressed his lips against hers in the softest touch and whispered, “Shh.”

Sirens wailed in the distance.

“I was already on my way back when I got your call.”

She’d called him? She supposed it made sense since he was probably the last person she’d phoned. She hadn’t exactly been in a chatty mood the past few days.

“You were already on your way back?”

Closing his eyes, Dev pressed his forehead to hers for several seconds before nodding.

“I love you, Willow. And I’m not willing to walk away. Or let you push me away. I’m going to stay and fight this time. Even if you don’t want me to.

“I screwed up. I should have told you about Natalie, but I was afraid. When I came to Sweetheart, I thought what I was looking for was closure. A chance to put the past behind me and lay to rest the ghosts of my mistakes and bad choices.”

He pulled away, that dark and dangerous gaze caressing her face. A shiver raced through her body.

“I came back for you.”

His arms tightened around her, bands of hard muscle that made her feel safe. Her body relaxed, sinking into the comfort and security of him.

Circling her arms around his neck, Willow pulled him back down to her. Her words kissed his mouth. “Tell me again.”

“What?”

“That you love me.”

With a groan, he closed his eyes and brought them skin to skin. She enjoyed the gentle rasp of his stubble-roughened jaw against her cheek. “I love you so much it hurts,” he promised.

Threading her fingers into the hair at his nape, Willow whispered, “I know. I was so afraid. You broke my heart once, and I wasn’t sure I could live through it again.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what about your business? You have a life in Atlanta, Dev. And my studio is here.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I could move to Atlanta.”

“No.” Dev shook his head, a stubborn glint shooting through his eyes.

“You hate Sweetheart.”

The pad of his thumb slipped across her bottom lip. “No, I don’t. You’re here and that’s all that matters. But, believe it or not, the place has kinda grown on me.”

The wail increased. A sharp whine sounded as someone squealed into the alley at the back of the store.

He had just enough time to say, “We have plenty of time to figure out the details, Willow,” and then people were flooding in the back door.

Sheriff Grant and two of his deputies. A couple of paramedics. Chaos swirled around her, but through it all Dev was right beside her, refusing to let her go.

* * *

D
EV CRACKED OPEN
Willow’s bedroom door. Even as he worried about disturbing her, he couldn’t stop himself. It had been difficult to let her out of his sight.

She’d scared the hell out of him and he wasn’t sure how quickly the need to reassure himself that she was fine would fade. Or if it ever would.

He’d lost so many people...the thought of losing her, too, still scared him. But not enough to let her go.

His eyes scanned the bed, surprised to find it empty. The covers were a rumpled pile, but Willow wasn’t beneath them. A quick jolt of alarm shot through him as his eyes swept the room.

He found her standing in front of the wide windows facing out onto the street. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she stared, a sad, faraway expression on her face.

On quiet feet, he padded across the room, slipping his arms around her and pulling her back against his body.

She melted into his hold. Warmth crawled through him.

“Do you need one of the pain pills the doc gave you?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Just a little achy. Nothing some ibuprofen can’t fix.”

He stirred against her. “Let me get you some.”

Her arms wrapped around his, locking him in place. “In a minute.”

Her body was lax, her heat slipping through the thin nightgown and silk robe into him. But he could practically hear the wheels grinding together in her head.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed. “How did everyone miss it? Erica worked for Hope.” Willow pointed out the window to the house down the street. “She lived right there for years. How did none of us know?”

A heavy weight settled in his chest. He hated that anything ugly had touched Willow. She was so giving and protective.

Erica Condon had stalked her and attacked her, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about the woman.

“She’d had years of practice hiding secrets. Grant said she broke down, years and years of suppressed anguish and resentment pouring out of her. She was emotionally and physically abused.”

“How could we not know?” she asked again, sorrow filling her words.

“You aren’t responsible for the world, Willow. She’s going to get the help she needs. That’s all we can do for her.”

With gentle pressure, he turned her away from the window. Staring at Erica’s house wasn’t going to help her.

His hands slipped beneath the robe that she’d left open. He circled her waist, enjoying the soft glide of silk against skin.

God, he wanted her. He couldn’t be this close to her and not want her. But she’d been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours and the last thing she needed was him pushing her.

So he pulled back, putting several precious inches between them. He searched her face, looking for signs of strain or pain. When he didn’t find any, the constricting weight that had been sitting on his chest since he’d gotten that call finally began to ease.