Chance Encounter (11 page)

But what if they hadn’t been groundless? What if she had been wrong? What if there really was a boogeyman…and his name was William Harrington?

Chapter Twelve

Brennan lay on his bed and fought every instinct he had to go to Kacie. To say she’d had a stressful day would be an understatement. After hearing that freak’s voice on her phone, she’d closed in on herself. He understood her need to do that—he’d definitely done the same in the past. Didn’t mean he liked it, though. He wanted to talk to her, reassure her. Unfortunately, things had gone downhill from there.

McCall had informed them that the call had come from a burner phone that couldn’t be traced. LCR tech people were able to narrow it down to the New York area, which helped not at all. They’d barely gotten that discouraging news when Kacie’s phone had chimed with a text. Another
He is coming for you
message. She’d received three more texts with the same threatening words. All were from different burner phones that, of course, could not be traced.

Whoever was doing this obviously wanted to emotionally torture her, but what else did he want? What was his end game? Blackmail…or something more evil?

Brennan had no doubt that he could protect her until they discovered who this bastard was. And he knew LCR would leave no stone unturned in finding the man and stopping him. But just how much more could Kacie handle before she fell apart?

He knew from experience that stress brought out the demons at night. Those bloody bastards delighted in creeping into your mind when you were at your most vulnerable. Their intent was both evil and cunning. Slice into your insecurities, pound away at your sanity, and then dance on your wounds with vengeful glee.

He’d been the victim of his own demons for years. Sleeping soundly had been impossible. Either he had nightmares that made him imagine the last moments of his son’s life and what he must have gone through, or he would wake up and realize his nightmares were reality.
 

Thank God his friends and family hadn’t let him destroy himself. Didn’t mean the demons no longer attacked. They were always lurking, always ready to pounce. But he had learned that beating the hell out of a boxing bag or running long distances was a hell of a lot more cathartic than letting the past devour him into darkness.

How did Kacie handle her demons? He’d been around her only a short while, but he’d already discovered that she didn’t like drugs and last night had drunk only half a glass of wine with dinner. What did she do to battle against the memories of what had happened to her?

Telling himself he was a fool didn’t stop him from leaving his bedroom and heading toward hers. If the lights were off and she was asleep, he’d turn back around.

He was halfway to her room when he heard the sobs. His feet sped up, and without giving it a second thought, he walked into her room.

The lights were dimmed but not off, which made him wonder if she had trouble sleeping in the dark. She was in bed, and from the wrecked look of the sheets and comforter, she’d been having some violent nightmares. He cursed himself for not coming sooner.

Another sob escaped her, heartbreaking in its sadness.

“Kacie, you awake?”

No answer.

Not wanting to frighten her by just appearing at her bed, Brennan stood in the middle of the room and spoke firmly. “Kacie, it’s Brennan. Wake. Up.”

She shot upright in the bed as if on springs and let out a loud scream.

Cursing softly, Brennan quickly flipped the switch behind him, and bright light flooded the room. Turning back to her, he stood several feet from her bed and said again, “Kacie. It’s Brennan.”

“Brennan? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I heard some noises in here. Thought I’d better check on you.”

She dropped down onto her pillows. “Just my typical nightmares. Nothing new. Sorry I disturbed you.”

Brennan snorted his disgust. “Don’t be ridiculous. I—” Shit. Was he about to berate her when she’d just had a nightmare? Tenderness and compassion had never been his strong suits, but if anyone deserved them, it was this woman.

“You didn’t disturb me. I came to check on you and heard you. Figured you were having a nightmare.”

She shrugged. “Same old, same old.”

“You need something? Milk? Hot tea?”

She smiled, and Brennan wondered how anyone could look so washed out and still be so incredibly beautiful.

“Thanks. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, figuring that was her way of telling him to leave. She surprised him, though.

“I know this is an awful imposition, but would it be too much trouble for you to just stay awhile and talk?”

“Not at all.” He eyed the bright lights and went to the wall switch. “Let me get the lights. If you get sleepy, you can drift off, and I’ll tiptoe out of here.”

“Okay, but not all the way off.” She gave an embarrassed little grimace. “I’m a wuss. Still can’t sleep in the dark yet.”

No, she wasn’t a wuss. She was a traumatized woman still recovering from a horrific event.

He turned the dimmer switch. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

He picked up a chair that she’d placed beside the window for looking out over the park. Setting it a few feet from the bed, Brennan eased into it.

“You know, you’re awfully sweet for a football player.”

He barked out a rusty laugh. He didn’t think anyone had ever thought of him as sweet. “You’ve met a lot of mean football players?”

“Well…actually, just one. He’s a former player, too. After he left that career, he became a model. Kind of a jerk.”

“Jerks come in all professions.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all.”

“Why modeling?”

“You mean after what happened?”

“Yes.” He didn’t say it, but the more he thought about it, the more he had to know. She had been pursuing what she thought was a modeling job when she’d been abducted.
 

“Just seems that you wouldn’t want to do anything related to what happened to you.”

She didn’t answer for a long time, and he wondered if she was angry or uncomfortable with the question.

Finally, she answered, “I think, more than anything, it was to prove something to myself.”

“How so?”

Again, she was quiet, and it struck him again that this was her way. She gave careful thought and consideration before answering a question.

“When I was younger, I wanted everything and I wanted it right then, right now. And that’s how and why I was abducted. I thought I’d found the easy way in, that I wouldn’t have to work at it like other girls.

“My plan was to shoot straight to the top and bypass all the trials and tribulations of real effort.

“What I endured…what I went through, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. After I was rescued, I blamed everyone, especially Skylar and myself. It took months for me to accept that, if anything, Skylar was the one who kept me alive and sane during that time. It was her influence, her voice inside my head, that kept me going. And I knew she was doing everything she could to find me.

“Once I accepted that it was in no way her fault, I had no one else to look to…I had only me to blame. It took a long time to forgive myself. My stupidity and blind ambition had gotten me into the situation. But once I did forgive myself, I finally began to heal.

“When I was stronger, ready to decide my future, I realized I had something to prove to myself. I had wanted something without being willing to work for it. I needed to know if I could work for it and actually achieve it, on my own. Not just because I wanted to reach my goal. I needed to know if I had it inside me.

“I told others that I was fine…that I had recovered, but how could I know for sure if I didn’t try? So I did it the right way…the hard way. I borrowed money for a photo shoot and modeling classes. I went on interviews, sent my photos everywhere. Took the rejections, the lost jobs, the disappointments.”

“That’s one of the reasons you changed your name, isn’t it? Because of the press coverage, your real name would have gotten you notoriety and attention. Probably even opened some doors for you.”

“Exactly. Believe me, having doors open to me because of what happened was the last thing I wanted. Besides that, how would I know if I actually did this on my own? Have to admit, though, I learned a lot more than I bargained for.”

“In what way?”

“Like no matter how hard a person works, success can’t be achieved without assistance and help. No matter how much I want to say it was all me, I can’t.”

Brennan nodded to himself. Having achieved several goals in his life, he could attest to that fact and knew exactly what she meant. Every opportunity and good thing he had achieved had been, in either small or large part, because of another person.

“No man is an island.”

“Exactly. There were women who were more beautiful, younger, more photogenic, had better smiles, longer legs.”

“So why do you think you made it?”

“Luck. Making the right contacts. Being in the right place at the right time.”
 

“And sheer dogged determination.”

“Yes, that, too.”

“Is it what you thought it would be? As exciting or fulfilling?”

“Yes and no. I love the clothes, the traveling. But there’s also a lot of hard work involved and a whole lot of boredom. Sometimes I just don’t feel like smiling. My feet hurt, head hurts, back hurts. And, dammit, sometimes I just want a fricking cheeseburger and fries.”

He chuckled at that. Having once had a strictly regimented diet, he could totally identify.

“Something else I learned the hard way was that my mother wasn’t always wrong.”

That one meeting with her mother made him want to disagree fervently. Still, he wanted to know exactly what the woman might have been right about. “About what?”

She laughed softly. “I can hear the doubt in your voice. Admittedly, she doesn’t make a very good first impression.

“But she told me time and again that I would never appreciate fame or success if I achieved it but didn’t earn it myself. She was right. If the ad I answered had been what I thought it was, if I had soared to stardom overnight, I never would have fully appreciated it. I would have been dissatisfied and unhappy but probably wouldn’t have been able to figure out why.

“Having worked to achieve my goals, I can appreciate them so much more.”

He was beginning to get a clearer picture of why she’d said that her relationship with her mother was complicated. “That’s one of the reasons you helped her financially. Isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You didn’t give her money to keep her quiet. You gave her money because you care.”

She was quiet for several seconds and then sighed. “You have to understand. I was not an easy kid to raise. I didn’t like to follow rules, thought I knew better than anyone else. Got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Dated the wrong guys. My mom actually tried in the early years, but she just couldn’t handle me any longer. I gave little thought to her feelings, what she was going through trying to raise a kid on her own. I guess, after all that, I felt I owed her.”

“And you wanted her to be proud of you.”

“Childish, huh?

Brennan shook his head, liking this woman more and more. “Human.”

“Maybe so.”

“So why did you stop sending her money?”

“Because I realized I was trying to buy her love. That made me angrier with myself than with her. She’s never going to be proud of me or love me. We’re never going to have a close mother-daughter bond.”
 

He couldn’t see her face, but he saw her shoulders move in a small shrug. “It was time for me to let her go and move on.”

“She seems to disagree.”

“She likes the money.”

He wished he could argue. Wished he could tell her that her mother might still come around. It would be a lie—one that Kacie would easily see through. Whatever Sonia wanted, it had nothing to do with having a relationship with her daughter. Kacie was better off without her.

“I don’t believe she could have anything to do with what’s happening now, though.”

He didn’t think so either, but not for the same reason. The woman simply didn’t strike him as bright enough to carry off the kinds of taunts Kacie had received.

She shifted against her pillow. “It suddenly occurs to me that you know everything about me, and yet I know almost nothing about you.”

He went so silent that Kacie figured he’d frozen, even stopped breathing. Perhaps it was unfair to ask him. It wasn’t as if knowing personal things about him would stop him from doing his job. He was here to protect her, not be her friend and confidant. But there was something about him that called to her. Something in his eyes matched an emptiness that she often felt inside herself. Almost like they had a connection.

She already knew he’d lost his wife and son. She’d learned that much from her brief search on the Internet. In between the vitriol and the hatred, she’d gleaned that his son was murdered, and then a few weeks later, his wife mysteriously died.