Haunt Me (20 page)

Lightning flashed and seared her retinas, but not before revealing her captor.

“What the hell are you doing?” She tasted blood.

“You didn’t think I’d know?” he yelled, backing away from her. “You thought I wouldn’t find out about the two of you? I saw you together remember?”

“No one is here, you crazy fuck.” She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a heavy paperweight off the desk, and threw it at him. Her mind wove in and out as she tried to make sense of everything. Kevin had only hit her that once, but this time he’d crossed the line—this wasn’t that one slap. He seemed intent on beating her.

He dodged the missile and advanced on her. “You’re mine. You will never leave here.”

Were they having two completely different conversations? Her right eye teared continuously, making his image waver. He closed his hand on her arm again, and she grabbed his thumb and bent it backward. Swearing, he struck her again, but she was already moving and the blow only numbed her shoulder. She raced down the hallway, headed for the kitchen, and the open door.

The storm outside was preferable to being locked up with a madman.

He slammed into her, tackling her before she made it off the porch. She went down, striking both knees on the wooden step before they toppled into the yard. The world tilted dangerously to the left. Dazed, she didn’t fight when he dragged her upward. Face-to-face, she barely recognized the unearthly look in his eyes.

“Where is he?” he screamed.

“I’m right here.”

A more blessed voice she had never heard. Justin.

Kevin thrust her away, but not before Justin struck out. He hit her ex square in the face, and Kevin went down. But the man immediately surged up and the men struck each other, over and over. Mac scrabbled backward away from them, the fury of their fight increased until they were covered in mud.

“You took her once,” Justin yelled.

Mac stared at him. What was he talking about? And why was Justin’s voice different?

“She’s mine,” Kevin railed back.

“Stop!” She rose, the world sharpened around her, and the fog of
otherness
parted. “Stop. Both of you. Don’t you see what’s happening?” Did she?

But the men didn’t respond to her. They circled each other slowly, Justin moving until he blocked her view of Kevin.

“Get out of here,” Justin ordered him. “She isn’t yours—she never was. You didn’t appreciate her when she gave up everything for you. But I want her. I’ve waited for her and looked for her my whole life—I will not let you take her away again.”

“You’re as crazy as she is.” Suddenly Kevin laughed, and all the hairs on Mac’s body raised.

She grabbed the back of Justin’s shirt. “Don’t. You can’t do this—you don’t know,” she whispered. Mac didn’t either, but Madeline did and Madeline’s knowledge screamed the danger through her mind.

“Hush, my love. I will not leave you to him, believe me.” His voice was his and not. But this was wrong—this was all wrong.

Lightning flashed overhead…casting light on the gun in Kevin’s hand.

“Get away from my wife,” Kevin ordered Justin. “I didn’t want it to come to this, Mac, but you’ve left me no choice.”

“No,” Justin refused, and Mac tightened her grip on him.

“Let me talk to him,” she said. She had to be able to do something. Anything. She had no idea why all of this was happening—but it
had
happened before.

“You don’t think I’ll kill him, do you?” Kevin’s voice dropped to a dangerously soft tone edged in nightmares.

Awareness slammed into her. Mac knew that voice. It had haunted her dreams and left her waking in a cold sweat. She’d heard it in her childhood, as she’d tried to outrun a horrible reality that existed in her head. It was why she’d started writing, to exorcise the bad dreams.

This cannot happen again…I won’t let it.

“We made vows. You promised to be mine and I let you have your divorce. I thought you’d get over the tantrum and come back. You were supposed to come back,” Kevin said, still talking. “This is your last warning, Kent. Get away from my wife.” He practically spit the last two words.

The world crashed sideways.

James stood in front of her, bloodied and unbowed. Both men were armed, but Kurt knew his way around a knife.

“Go, Madeline,” James said, speaking to her. “Go now. I will buy you the time.”

“She will not leave me,” Kurt said, so smug, so sure. “She came with me willingly, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Madness had infected Kurt during his time at sea, madness and a craven need for control. She’d never suspected it when he appeared in her room at the manor house, but he’d drawn a knife on her when she refused his entreaty to run away to the Americas with him. She planned to wed the Duke of Worcester and be wash of the last of Kurt’s stain forever…then and only then did his madness appear.

In his mind, she’d never left him. He came back for her as he swore he would, and she was going to America, whether she liked it or not.

“James, don’t provoke him.” Fear curdled in her stomach. Kurt had sworn to her he would murder James if she said “I do” to James. His men were everywhere, he said. The man she once thought she loved had become a monster and threatened the one she truly loved. Leaving James had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she wanted him to live more than anything.

And so she’d sacrificed herself. So that James would live.

Her prison had been the Summerfield house; a walled-off cottage on Kurt’s vast property in Virginia, which had kept her isolated from any who might have tried to help her from her predicament. Three long years she’d suffered here, subjected to Kurt’s visits when the mood took him. His wife lived in the palatial home, unaware of his nightly activities.

He killed her bit by bit until she thought everything had fractured—until James came for her and suddenly she had hope again.

But Kurt pulled a pistol out of his jacket and held it pointed at the one she loved.

Kevin pointed a gun at Justin.

Kurt stared at James and then at her. “Come to me now, Madeline. Or I will kill him.”

“I’ll do it,” Kevin swore. “Get away from him, Mac.”

“Don’t.” James held up his arm, keeping her behind him. “You have suffered enough because of him.”

“I will not let him do this to you any longer.” Justin’s back tensed. “This has to end.”

“Come to me, Madeline.”

“Now.”

The two worlds collided. James would not let Madeline past him and Justin seemed determined to keep between her and Kevin. But Mac knew how this ended—how it had ended all those years ago.

She couldn’t lose Justin—not again.

She rubbed Justin’s back once, hoping like hell he would understand. “Kevin, I’m coming. You can put the gun down.”

“You’re not moving.” The gun didn’t waver. The rain plastered their hair to their faces and Mac seemed to freeze from the inside out.

The cold gave her absolute clarity. She knew what she had to do. What she should have always done. Letting go of Justin, she stepped to the side and began to walk around him.

“Mac,” Justin warned. “Don’t you dare…”

“Shh.” She turned to look at him. “It’s okay. I get it now—I know how it ends. How it always ended, but I also know I can change it. That’s what I’ve been trying to do all this time, with the book.”

“Shut up and come here,” Kevin yelled. But even as his face twisted in fury, she saw his eyes. Maybe he’d always been crazy. But he would kill Justin, given the chance.

Justin took a step forward. “No.”

The world slowed down, but Mac expected it to. Madeline had lived this before and she’d survived to exist with the horror for the rest of her life. Summerfield was her home, her prison, and her tomb.

Lunging forward locked her fate and put it into her hands, finally. The gun’s report cracked through the storm and hot pain seared her chest. The force of it knocked her down and slammed her into the mud. Justin collided with Kevin and got the gun away from him. She watched the dizzying blows he delivered from the ground. The world kept spinning, but she never lost sight of him.

When Kevin finally collapsed, Justin rushed back to her. He jerked off his soaking shirt and pressed it to her shoulder. “Don’t you dare die.”

“There you go—trying to prove that man card again.” She tried for a smile. Levity came easy—because she’d done it. She’d changed the way the story ended.

Justin pulled a phone out of his pocket and fumbled with it. The storm’s fury seemed to slow and he put the phone to his ear. “I need an ambulance. She’s been shot. And you need to get the police here—Summerfield—hurry.”

He dropped the phone and kept the pressure up. Beyond him, Kevin lay prone and unmoving. Farther away, she saw the smashed-up front end of a car and one of the gates laying on the ground beyond it.

“You broke it,” she murmured. The world continued to fade, and then Justin leaned over her, filling her view.

“You will not die. You hear me?” Every beautiful syllable sharpened her focus.

“You did,” she whispered. The horror shattered every reserve in her. He’d
died
for her before. Right here, in this place, and left her to mourn him. It had been her fault that time. She should have trusted him, and her lack of faith—it had cost them so much.

“I failed you.” Regret thickened his voice—
James’s
voice, not that of Justin.

“No.” She fought to raise her hand, knowing it was Madeline’s hand, Madeline’s thoughts, Madeline’s words. “You didn’t. I should have told you. I never got to tell you—he took me away because I didn’t believe you, because I
failed
you. I never told you.”

“Tell me now.”

It was an order she was glad to obey. “I love you.”

A tender smile lit his beautiful face and his cobalt eyes seemed to glow. “I know, my love. I always knew.”

It was getting harder to breathe and she was so cold. But was she Mac, or Madeline? “I love you…”

“Stay awake, Mac.” Justin’s heated voice thawed some of the ice holding her captive.

“…love you…”

In the distance, sirens began to wail. Somewhere inside, Madeline smiled. She’d saved her James this time. He waited for her all those years to come to him and it had taken centuries to find each other again. But he had waited for her—he had found her.

“They’re coming, sweetheart, they’re coming. You stay with me…”

Oh, she wished she could. But at least this time, she’d finished the story the right way.

This time he
lived.

Chapter Thirteen

Justin refused treatment for the second time that day, pacing back and forth across the hospital waiting room. They’d wheeled Mac into surgery hours before. In the waiting room, he’d given his statement to the sheriff and had watched dispassionately when they’d handcuffed an unconscious Kevin to a hospital bed before wheeling him away.

He really didn’t give a damn what happened to her ex-husband. His hands hurt, his head hurt, and his heart—
no, she is not going to die. That is not going to happen.

Elijah had arrived at Summerfield too late. A flood in the town and a collapsing roof had delayed him, but he hadn’t left Justin’s side. Nathaniel arrived a few minutes later, with Rob. His foreman had made the same crazy drive back to Penny Hollow that Justin had attempted earlier. Outside the storm abated, but the world was far from whitewashed. Winter’s first real fury threatened to destroy everything Justin loved.

One by one, Penny Hollow residents trickled in.

Clint.

Mrs. Cartwright.

Mrs. Beagle.

Andie from the bookstore.

They all stopped and spoke to him, but he didn’t hear a word. Hours passed and Justin paced—waiting. A cool hand touched his arm, and then Jock laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“You knew.” That leaden realization hit him square in the gut. She’d been trying to tell him, but he hadn’t understood. All those moments of
insight
and her jokes about being psychic. He’d liked not believing; it had been a hell a lot easier. Foolish, he realized now.

“I had an idea,” she whispered. “I just wish I’d been wrong.”

Him, too. “I can’t lose her, Jock.”

“She’s strong, Justin. So much stronger this time—and she has you, and you’re here. Don’t give up on her.”

“Never.” He had never given up on her. He wouldn’t start now. The confidence in her statement bolstered him and he looked at her. Really looked at his baby sister and saw the young woman she’d become. “When she’s better, we need to talk.”

“When she’s better,” Jock promised, and squeezed his hand.

“Mr. Kent?” A surgeon stepped into the waiting room and Justin surged to his feet.

“Is she alive?”

“Yes, but…”

…

A Week Later…

The stitches on his forehead itched, but Justin ignored it. It wasn’t the house he’d ever wanted, it was the woman it held—but he’d had to wait. Wait for Mac to come out of the coma she’d slipped into. But she would wake. She
had
to wake. He loved her and he hadn’t told her yet. She’d confessed it to him as she lain there, dying—and she did die, twice in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

His heart nearly stopped both times hers did.

Movement from the bed jerked him forward. His gut tightened and he held his breath.
C’mon, baby—open your eyes.

When her lashes fluttered, he grasped her hand, ever mindful of the IV in the back of it. “Come on, you can do it,” he told her, willing her with every fiber of his being to open her eyes to not let that bastard win again.

“Hey,” she croaked, and opened the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen.

A sob caught in his throat and his shoulders sagged. “Hey…”

“Uh-oh.” She winced. “There goes your man card again.”

Laughter freed the tears from his eyes and he lifted her too-pale hand to his lips and kissed it. It was her.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” he choked out.

“I never left.”

…

Justin spent every day and night of the next week parked next to Mac’s hospital bed. Jock brought the box of diaries to the hospital after Mac woke up. They’d read them together as her body worked to knit and heal.

“He kidnapped her on her wedding day,” Mac said as she slowly flipped through the book. “Kurt told her that he’d have James murdered if she didn’t go, so she went.”

It made Justin sick. Madeleine had given up any pretense at happiness to become a mistress to a man she’d once loved and then despised.

Mac touched a finger to his arm. “She had two children—daughters.”

“What happened to them?” Justin shifted from the chair to sit on the bed with her, always careful of her shoulder.

“Kurt took them—shortly after their births. She was able to hold her first daughter for only a few hours. The second not even that long.” And Madeline never saw her children again. The more Mac read, the sadder she became, and Justin hated every part of the story.

“Jock and I did some digging,” Justin said. “Your family line—the Summerfields—you’re Madeline’s children.”

She leaned her head back, exhaustion written over her face. “How?”

“Kurt and his second wife adopted the children. When he passed, he had only two heirs—daughters. Great thing about small towns, they keep track of little details, including family trees.” And Kurt’s wife’s name had been dotted out of a link to the heirs.

“She never knew,” Mac whispered. “The bastard never told her that the children laughing and playing beyond the walls of her prison were her own.”

Justin had exercised his right as a member of the Founder’s Council and had the property records sent over from the library. It took a lot of digging, but he found them. The whole caretaker’s cottage lie had been perpetuated for so long, no one knew where it started. In fact, Summerfield had been the adjunct house, hidden away and walled off.

At least now history had been made right.

…

Mac was all smiles on the drive home. She’d promised the doctor she’d take it easy, but she was ready to be out of the hospital. The sheriff had visited her twice, the first time to take her statement, and the second to clarify some questions. Kevin Dillon was under arrest. Despite having drained her bank accounts, he’d made a hell of a lot of bad investments and saw Mac and Summerfield as the meal ticket to get him out of the hole. Not that it mattered—he wouldn’t bother her again. Jail was too good for him, but frankly, Justin couldn’t bring himself to care what happened to the other man as long as he stayed away from Mac. Forever.

“You’re quiet.” Mac leaned back against the seat, her eyes closed. “And where is your truck?”

“Pretty totaled.” He hadn’t told her about the accident yet. Or about borrowing a car from the off-duty paramedic who’d shown up to help. He hadn’t told her about a lot of things. He’d been waiting, that part of him that remembered cautioned him to wait—wait until she was better, wait until she was
ready.
God, he hoped she was ready.

“Totaled?” But she winced as he turned onto her driveway and followed the gravel. He’d debated where to have this conversation, and ultimately decided against his house. After everything he’d learned, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back there.

Slowing the rental truck down, he crept down the gravel and tried to minimize the amount of bouncing the vehicle did. “Yeah, I had a bit of an accident the night of the storm. It’s why I wasn’t here when Kevin showed up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you were a little shot and busy. I was fine, so I thought it could wait.” In the last week he’d rarely left the hospital, but on one trip Elijah had helped him remove the gates. If his brother thought the whole past life story was nonsense, he didn’t say anything. He’d listened to Justin’s side of the story as he tried to work it out. His only response had been a grunt.

She said nothing when he drove through the empty break in the wall. Tension fisted in his gut. He wanted to rip the wall down next but forced himself to wait.

That wasn’t his call. Not this time.

“Sorry.”

Justin blinked and parked the truck and shut off the engine before looking at her. “Did you just apologize to me for being shot?”

“Yeah.” Chagrin crept across her face and her cheeks pinkened. He’d missed her blush.

“Okay. Apology accepted.” He opened his door and climbed out, hurrying around to open her door before she did.

“You know the gentlemanly thing to do would have been to say I didn’t have to apologize for getting shot. It wasn’t my fault.”

He didn’t bother to disguise his opinion. It was time. “You stepped in front of me on purpose so that you would get shot instead of me.” She’d scared the hell out of him. He’d never felt so damn helpless in all his life as he did the moment she dropped. He took one of her hands and helped her out of the truck.

“I’m sorry.” She ducked her head. “I—”

With his other hand, he touched a finger to her chin, then nudged her face back up until she met his gaze. “Don’t do it again.”

A tremulous smile touched her lips, but he could still see the shadow of unease in her eyes. “I won’t. Unless some maniac with a gun is pointing it at you again.”

“Mac…”

“No.” Her voice gained strength. “Don’t you ‘Mac’ me. Kevin was going to kill you. I don’t really understand how it all happened, but it did. I was Madeline and she was me—when Kevin pointed that gun at you? It was like it was all happening again and Madeline remembered losing you and I couldn’t bear it—not again. Do you understand that?”

Hell yes, he understood it. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her—he’d experienced that hell for years. Somehow, now that he’d awoken those memories, they wouldn’t go away. That Mac didn’t clearly remember the events… Jock had mumbled it might have something to do with the trauma or maybe that she’d sublimated it in her writing.

Whatever the reason, Jock had told him what he had to do. What
they
had to do. And this time, he’d listened to his baby sister’s insights.

“Yes,” he said. “Now imagine you’re me. Do you think I want to lose you?”

“Justin.”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head and pulled her close, ever careful of her still-healing body. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he savored the feel of her in his arms, the warm, living and breathing feel of her. It was almost enough to erase the soul rending fear he went through. Almost.

“How about we split the difference and avoid guns?” There she was. His sassy girl with her snarky humor.

“I can live with that deal.” Tucking her against his side, he nodded toward the gazebo. “Up for a walk?”

The shadows in her eyes darkened when she looked at the marble structure. He waited. It had been hell for him to come out here, but he’d done it. He could imagine the myriad of emotions swamping her. Regret. Loss. Confusion. Relief. They collided like a mad assortment of pinballs caught in a trap.

“I don’t know.” She hung back, reluctance stiffening her shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he tried to soothe her. “I’m right here. You don’t have to do it alone.” But they had to do this. It was
time.

She gnawed on her lower lip, trembling. Dragging her gaze away from the gazebo, she looked up at him and he gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m never going to be ready, so let’s just do it.” Even terrified and upset, she refused to back down. He guided her toward the gazebo, letting her set the pace. On the steps of it, she looked up at the wrought iron dome. “It’s crazy. When you first took this back from the garden, I couldn’t get over how wonderful it was. It was peaceful and perfect, and now all I see is cold emptiness.”

He wanted off the madcap carousel and a chance a real life—real happiness. He stopped and turned to face her. “We need to talk. Do you remember what you said that day?”

Her face colored and she looked down again. They’d talked about a lot in the hospital, but she hadn’t mentioned it again. There was a chance she might not remember. The doctors explained that between her concussion and the blood loss from the gunshot wound, short-term memory loss wasn’t unusual. But his heart held on to hope.

“I said I love you.”

Relief flooded through him and he exhaled a long breath. “Yes, you did. Did you mean it?”

Indecision and worry twisted her expression, but she nodded slowly, still not looking up.

I know what to do.

James’s voice echoed in his mind, and Justin tucked a finger under her chin again and nudged her gaze up to meet his.

Madeline has always been shy about meeting my gaze—her abused heart so reluctant to trust.

The strength of feeling James held for the woman in front of him matched Justin’s own.

“Yes,” she relented, and sounded the most certain he’d ever heard her. “I love you.”

He softened. Something unlocked inside of him, a rusty chain breaking free. He was James and she was
Madeleine—he didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. Together—finally they were together.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Justin continued. “You remembered before I did. You’ve been remembering your whole life. It’s why you kept trying to change the story—why you tried to change the end…”

“Because I hated how it ended before.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “He buried James here. Oh, my God. He
buried
him here.”

“That first time you saw Madeleine here…”

“I was remembering.” Mac’s pupils dilated and she sucked in a breath. “The nightmares… I was terrified of this place, but I tried to forget.” Light flared in her eyes and the blurred double image of her—the one of the woman just behind her—locked into place.

Madeline now, she licked her lips and looked down, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry I left.”

James was alive inside of him, a restless spirit separated from his love for far too long. James touched his forehead to hers and tenderness swelled through him. “Our lives were twisted by a cruel and capricious fate, but no more.”