Her Forgotten Betrayal (13 page)

Or at least to go after her water heater.

She wanted to shove the endless search for answers from her mind again, as she had when the authorities in Atlanta had decided not to continue actively investigating her shooting. But now she didn’t dare, not if someone was really trying to spook her or hurt her or whatever he was trying to do to her in the mansion.

If Cole hadn’t been sitting beside her while she was forced to accept the truth that deep down she’d suspected all this time, she was certain she’d have dissolved into a puddle of fear. But there he was, caring for her in ways—like making her tea—that she guessed were as foreign to him as repeatedly having to soothe a hysterical female. She gazed back at her former friend. Her former lover. He felt more like a bodyguard now, standing like an impenetrable wall between her and whatever was going on.

She lifted her tea without responding to his question. Her grip shook so much, his hand came up to steady hers as she drank. Then he took the mug and set it in front of her. She dropped her head into her free hand. He lifted the other one from its ice bath and gently dried it.

“Everything’s spinning,” she mumbled.

She had to call Dawson. She should keep talking to Cole until she recalled something that would help the authorities get to the bottom of what was going on. She needed to fight harder to get her memory back, now more than ever. But her mind was turning to mush. Then the world itself was tilting.

Strong arms were helping her stand. Not bothering to censure herself, she leaned into Cole’s strength, needing the sense of belonging he’d brought into her solitary life.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, lips she knew she’d dream about at her temple. “You’re crashing, and I want to get a better look at the house. But I don’t want to take you back to your room. Where were you going to have me stay?”

“Downstairs.” She pointed in the direction of the first-floor guest room. Then she added, chagrined, “There are plenty of rooms upstairs near me, but I didn’t trust myself. You feel too good every time I touch you. Why do you feel so good…?”

She was babbling. She’d regret it later. But she closed her eyes, concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, and let the worry go as they left the kitchen behind.

When he eased her onto a bed, she realized he’d guided her to the guest room and was already stepping away.

“Don’t go,” she said, not for the first time.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He kissed the scar at her temple, where her head hurt most, and pulled the blanket over her. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll lock the door from the inside as I leave. No one will be able to get in but me. You’ll be safe.”

She was already nearly asleep, relaxing into his promises. Letting go and trusting him felt like a different way of taking control. One that would allow her to finally relax and get the rest she needed, so once she woke she could work with him to resolve whatever was going on.

She felt him slip away.

Turning into the pillows, not afraid of her dreams for the first time in a month, she sighed and allowed herself to drift.

Chapter Eleven

It was working.

The bitch had lived like a cloistered nun since she was a teenager. Now she was close to whoring herself out to Marinos again, after less than a day together.

The man smiled in satisfaction.

She’d been hell-bent for years on proving she was strong enough to run her empire and the lives of everyone associated with it. She’d cultivated the reputation of an executive who could conquer any challenge. She’d sacrificed everything for the power she’d thought she was entitled to. Then, once she’d caught a clue and realized he’d been screwing her pristine image to the wall, she’d thought she could catch him herself.

Not killing her that night had been the most rewarding decision he’d ever made. She was falling apart so predictably now. So satisfyingly. He wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

He flipped a key on the electronic panel before him, switching away from the audio sound of Shaw sleeping in the first-floor guest room, back to the view from the microscopic camera he’d installed in the kitchen’s overhead light fixture. Marinos appeared on cue, a hero without a clue, heading to the adjoining room no doubt to adjust the water heater to a pre-nuclear level.

As if that would be the end of this, since the man could at any time use his master key and the tunnels running from his location across the lake to carefully camouflaged access points not far from the Victorian, to get back inside and make even more mischief. As he had last night after Shaw ran outside. He’d incapacitated the Victorian’s security system, then he’d tweaked the hot water supply, finishing up quickly enough to catch the last of Cole and Shaw’s touching reunion in the woods.

Hidden in his secret lair deep inside the mountain now, he surveyed the array of electronics spread out before him in the abandoned-mine-turned-bunker that passed for his home. He had the most state-of-the-art intelligence-gathering equipment on the planet at his disposal. Much of it wasn’t yet available to the U.S. government—at least not to the law enforcement branches. With it, he could jam all attempts to detect his surveillance, and send command signals to the remote-controlled weapons and other fun gadgets he’d concealed about the property. Including the high-powered sniper rifle he’d used to shoot at the storage room. The remotely fired weapon was installed over a mile from the mansion, near the bunker.

Even a highly skilled agent like Cole Marinos, his country’s pride and joy, wouldn’t get far until he called in some help to dig for the very real threat behind Shaw’s string of “accidents.” The man could pump any sound he wanted into the house, play with the power and other utilities, and trigger booby traps. And no one would be the wiser. He could continue messing with Shaw’s mind indefinitely, undetected, if that’s what he wanted.

Not that merely panicking her could come close to satisfying him now. She was the evil one. She’d killed his mother. She’d gotten away with her crime her entire life. It was his responsibility, it always had been, to make sure she paid. First by destroying her business while his thrived beyond his wildest dreams. Then by destroying her mind.

His adjusted plans were playing out even better, and more quickly, than he’d hoped. Cole’s reckless determination was a delight to watch. The looming deadline of Marinos’s next report to Atlanta, a pattern that had been pathetically easy to detect by the regular timing of his cell call signals, was serving nicely.

Compromising Marinos’s integrity within his tight-knit intelligence community was a worthy goal unto itself. Sacrificing everything else for that lovely prize might just be worth it. As long as Shaw’s memories were forever silenced in the process. And as long as the cause of her death, if it came to that, fell at Cole’s feet. After all, Marinos had been nursing a nasty grudge against the Cassidy family for over a decade. The Marshals Service must have been crazy to allow an FBI loose cannon like him anywhere near a prime suspect in a felony investigation.

But would crushing Marinos’s life once again really be enough? The man felt the darkness within him building, a growing need for revenge against the other nemesis from his past who’d yet to pay for the brutal pain he still endured on a daily basis.

He’d already proven he was smarter than Shaw. He’d run circles around her, both professionally and personally. The twit. He could walk away a free man any time he chose, with the added bonus of seeing her take the fall for his crimes. But mere freedom was no longer enough.

She needed to realize exactly who had custom-designed her fate, and why she deserved every consequence he’d dealt out. He had the chance to watch the two people responsible for destroying his life pay, the way he had. In blood. He wasn’t going anywhere until this was finished, his way this time.

He’d already pitted them against each other. He’d been listening. And he had no doubt his star-crossed lovers would be screwing once more by nightfall. Then it would be time for him to make his most ingenious move yet. Something that would position his pawns precisely at the very flash point that would ensure their destruction. Soon, Shaw’s haunting would either become permanent, or she’d be dead. Either way, she’d be forced to stare into his grotesque face and know he was her tormentor. And Marinos would have the rest of his life to feel guilty over how he hadn’t been able to stop Shaw’s destruction.

On the monitor, Marinos returned to the kitchen, his expression murderous.

The man ran his hand over his hairless, disfigured head, his mind spinning with possibilities. His body was nothing more than a shell of what it had once been. But thanks to him, from the moment they’d met in the woods, Marinos and Shaw had been doomed to a fate of
his
choosing.

Could any plan be more beautiful?

Chapter Twelve

Cole had never in his career felt more like an idiot. Someone was terrorizing Shaw right under his nose. Someone undetectable by his equipment and off the radar in every effort the task force had made to ferret out a suspect. Someone intimately familiar with Cassidy Global’s operations and assets, who’d gained access to the mansion itself and knew his way around. Someone triggering Shaw’s fears like a Svengali.

It was only a hunch, a long shot really, based on what a less-experienced agent might dismiss as an insignificant string of minor accidents. But Cole had profiled enough lunatics in his career to know he was on the right track. And that the guy he was after was nowhere near finished.

Shaw’s stalker was starting to make this personal. Maybe it had been personal since the shooting. Hell, since before then. Almost as if whoever was behind her company’s treasonous activity had ultimately wanted his illegal deeds to come to light, and Shaw discovering what he was up to had been a catalyst to everything that had happened since.

But why
hadn’t
she been killed that night at her office? Maybe so the bastard could move on to tuning up her brain even more, with all the unexplainable, unprovable bumps in the night and voices and odd happenings she’d endured here. Whoever it was definitely had an ax to grind. For someone to take the time to gaslight her this way, rather than simply taking her out and moving on, he had to be getting a sick pleasure out of each strike.

No doubt about it.

Someone was carefully orchestrating Shaw’s demise, both professionally and psychologically.

Cole hammered a final nail into the top of the sagging step he’d repaired, then turned and sat on his handiwork, knowing he had time. The type of bastard who would carry out a scheme this elaborate and sick would want to savor his latest victory before triggering another episode.

While Shaw slept, Cole had first gone over the house again, inside and out, with the handheld scanner he’d brought back with him from his place. He’d done a thorough visual check of every room and entrance, looking for signs of electronic monitoring and more traps that might have been set. He’d turned up nothing out of the ordinary. And even though he’d planted several more sensors that would report back to his computers if anything suspicious were to happen in or around the house, he was betting they’d pick up nothing, either. Regardless of what occurred next.

His technology was obviously inferior to the equipment being used by the unsub who was terrorizing Shaw. There was no other explanation. And unfortunately, no clear-cut remedy. Overtly ripping the house apart looking for hidden clues wasn’t an option. It would throw away the element of surprise, and likely their shot at catching this guy. So Cole had instead spent the last half hour beating away at the stairs, after digging up tools, spare lumber, and nails in the storage room. He’d been determined to come up with something he could do to catch this maniac the next time he tried to get to Shaw, without prematurely tipping his hand that he was onto the guy.

Cole could push for a forensics team to go over the mansion with more sophisticated equipment than his, but that would be seen as a nonstarter by the powers-that-be. It would blow the cover off their High Lake operation. Dawson, if properly motivated, had the chops to orchestrate a sting that would end this once and for all, and free Shaw to live her life unafraid. But Cole still had nothing credible to report to his task-force leader, or to sell his hunch up his chain of command at the Bureau. Asking for a retaliatory response against a suspect he’d yet to pinpoint even a location for, with only the shreds of evidence he’d so far collected—a boo-boo on Shaw’s thumb and overly hot bathwater—would likely result in him and Shaw both being yanked from High Lake, not in the identification and capture of her tormentor.

So for now, that left the two of them to deal with this on their own. And it left Cole with an obvious but unpalatable next step to take. Shaw was close to getting back her memories, and she deserved that chance. She needed every second he could give her to do just that. But her instincts were working on overdrive, exhausting her, hindered by the information about her situation that he’d withheld. Would revealing the rest be the final trigger she needed? Or would knowing she was under suspicion of treason shut down her trust in him permanently, making it impossible for him to help her at all?

Either way, the next choice was hers. She might call Dawson again and pull the plug on the operation herself. But she deserved better than to remain the task force’s clueless pawn, and a sitting duck for whatever madman was toying with her. Even if she ended up hating Cole all over again, it was time she knew what his job had been on her mountain, and how much danger his and the government’s manipulation had put her in.

You’d never hurt me
, she’d said
.
He could still feel her passion-filled admission rushing through his bloodstream, her body straining closer. He had his Shaw back—the woman who never would have believed her father’s lies.
You were making it your job to save my life, even back then…

A part of her had kept wanting him all these years, defying the split her family had forced between them. Hopefully she would remember that when this was all over. Maybe not. But she needed an outside-the-box federal agent overseeing her case. Not a former lover, too worried about losing her again to make the tough call he knew he must. He packed up his tools, not allowing himself to think about how much of a risk he was taking, nor about how much trouble he was courting by blowing his own cover story.

Cole was going to close this case his way, the same as he had every other one. The consequences of failure were too high to play things by the book. The possible rewards if his reckless approach succeeded were too precious.

He returned the tools and the scrap wood to the storage room. Instinct told him, given the apparent technological sophistication of the unsub and what had happened to Shaw there and in the kitchen, that both locations were likely bugged and possibly wired for other types of surveillance—none of which he’d found evidence of during the casual inspection he’d allowed himself after realizing his scanner was useless. Every step he took was potentially being tracked. And he had to live with it for now, so the scum watching them wouldn’t know Cole was aware. He completed another circuit of the house, assuring himself that at least the windows and doors were secure. Another triage of the security system revealed no quick fix for repairing it. Whoever had disabled the thing knew exactly what he was doing.

Don’t try this at home, kids.

He retraced his steps to the downstairs bedroom where he’d checked on Shaw twice already. The door remained locked from the inside, his dubious attempt to help her feel safe enough to get an hour or two of rest. Like both other times, he pulled his kit from the duffel he’d reclaimed from the office. He inserted the pick and file and was turning the lock when the sound of crying reached him.

Shaw!

His gun in hand, he pushed into the room. The door swung wild and bounced off the wall. He swept the scene from one side to the other, his weapon tracking his sight line.

Nothing.

There was no one inside, except for the beautiful woman curled up on the bed like an exotic kitten taking a nap—if that kitten were trapped inside a hideous dream.

“No.” Shaw’s head thrashed on her pillow. “I won’t let you. I won’t let you hurt me again.”

Cole relocked the door behind him.

“Shh…” On any other case, he’d have sat across the room and waited for her to wake up. But this was Shaw.

He slid onto the bed, first removing his gun and shoulder holster and setting them on the nightstand so they wouldn’t disturb her when she woke. He touched her shoulder as gently as he’d caress spun glass. She flinched, then curled toward him, the fingers of her hand clenching in his shirt.

“Please don’t leave me again,” she said.

Cole should let the dream run its course and just listen. He needed details to report to Atlanta. He should keep his hands off her and do his job. But she was in pain. Trying to stop himself from comforting her was a useless waste of energy.

He pulled Shaw into his arms. Her soft weight was a healing blanket to the heart that had been numb to feeling anything since he’d lost her.

“I’m here,” he said against her temple, closing his eyes when she snuggled closer.

“Don’t let him open the door. Cole, please. I can’t take it. The flames. The shouting. They’ll kill me.”

“Who will kill you?”

“He’s laughing now, can you hear him? Don’t let him open the door.”

“Who, Shaw? Don’t let who open the door?”

“Fire!” She struggled against his gentle restraint. “We’re trapped in the closet with flames.”

“There’s no fire, honey.”

She’d placed him squarely in her dream. Their past—the fire they’d survived together before they’d ultimately lost everything—was distracting her from remembering her shooter.

“Forget what happened in the barn. Focus on the closet. We’re adults, not teenagers. A man is trying to hurt you. I’ll stop him. I swear. Tell me who’s on the other side of the door.”

“It…it’s closed.”

“Open it.” He tightened his arms around her. He wanted this over. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing. He needed her to remember. Now. So he could catch her stalker, yes. But also so Cole could know if Shaw, the real Shaw, would still want him after she knew the complete truth. “I’ll protect you. But you have to open the door.”

“He’ll shoot me.” She pounded her fists against his chest. “He’ll burn us, Cole.”

“There’s no fire.” He grabbed her wrist, her panic strengthening his resolve to push until they had what they needed. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m here, darlin’. All you have to do is open the door and tell me who you see.”

“I can’t.”

She stopped struggling and relaxed against him, her consciousness slipping away. Or so Cole thought, until her sweet lips were kissing his neck, his jaw, then they were a butterfly caress against his own mouth.

“He’ll shoot you, too,” she said, still mostly asleep. “And I can’t let him do that. I just got you back. I can’t lose you again.”

Her eyes fluttered open. Their hazy, sleep-filled confusion was intoxicating. Her determination to defend him, when she’d been dreaming of her own life being in danger, devastated him. How did he hold onto this moment, once every secret he’d been keeping from her was revealed? He cupped her beautiful face in his hands, never less the emotionless enforcer he’d fought his entire career to become.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked softly. “Now you’re fighting not to remember
because
of me. You were dreaming. Your mind’s put me in your closet. And you won’t face your attacker because you think you have to safeguard me somehow.”

“You’re helping me. No one else ever has, have they? Not the way you want to. Not my father or my brother.” She was awake, sad, and lost in his arms. Her loneliness knifed into him. “How is it wrong for me to fight to keep you safe, the way you’ve promised to protect me?”

“Who?” he persisted. “Who am I protecting you from? Someone’s on the other side of that door. His identity’s in your mind. Tell me who he is, Shaw. I’ll stop him. I swear, you’ll never be alone in this again.”

She closed her eyes and let her forehead drop to his. The old connection felt as easy as ever, as miraculous as when she’d first done it as a girl. It was a precious moment she didn’t even realize she’d given him. Someone needed him, wanted and trusted him completely, outside of the job. It had been a lifetime since he’d allowed that to happen. Fifteen years. He’d had many casual encounters since. But he’d never let another heart beat next to his like this, in time with his, the way Shaw’s was now.

She raised her injured hand to her temple and squinted, trying to remember for him, clearly suffering because of what he’d asked her to do.

“No, let it go for now.” He kissed her eyelids, desperate to make her pain stop. “Hurting yourself isn’t going to help.”

She sighed into his touch. “You were there this time. I could see you so clearly. I could feel you.”

“I’ll always be there.” This was about him and Shaw going forward. He was going to make certain of it. Even when it meant finding a way to dig himself out of the lies that were confusing her so badly. “Shaw, there’s something I have to tell you—”

“Don’t.” She pressed her fingers to his mouth and shivered when he kissed the tips of them. “No more. Not about the past or my shooting. I wasn’t alone this time in that horrible place, because of you. Because of us. I…I don’t want to think about anything else right now but—”

“Us.”

He wasn’t alone anymore, either, with her in his arms, clinging to him. This couldn’t be the last time. He wouldn’t let telling her about the task force be the end of what they’d rediscovered with each other. She was no longer kissing him, but he could feel the tension in her body, rivaling his own, and her need for more. He kept his touch gentle on her cheeks, cherishing her.

“Be sure about this, Shaw.” God, he didn’t want to hurt her. But he couldn’t let her go. “You barely know me anymore.”

“I know this.” She placed her hand over his stumbling heartbeat. Her soft, sexy lips were only inches away. Her gaze was alert and bright, all vestiges of her nightmare gone. “I want this. It feels so right, like I’ve wanted you—”

“Forever,” he finished for her, the way they’d always talked over each other, sharing thoughts as easily as they’d breathed the same air. That honesty was what he had to make her see was real, when the truth was fully revealed. “I’ve needed you every day since I lost you.”

“Cole, please love me.”

The vulnerability, the fear of rejection in her request made him want to go back in time and beat on her father and brother for making her doubt herself. Maybe even beat himself for not fighting to keep her no matter what she’d said or thought after her brother’s death. Damn, he’d been such an idiot, hating her for so long. He should have stayed and fought to know exactly what had happened. All this time, her love for him had clearly been waiting below the surface of their separation, begging to be set free.