Remember Me (24 page)

                                                     Chapter 22
 

Hands still stinging from the digging, Brett wrapped his hands around his cool drink to soothe them, and idly wondered if it would be a good investment to buy some motorized digging equipment.
It would certainly be less abuse on my valuable hands…
he thought. Shaking his head absently, his thoughts drifted back to Cassandra, and the phone conversation they had had earlier.
She’s actually spending time with that buffoon, and damn it, I was positive I was back in control! I have to think of a way to make her afraid of him again!
Taking a sip of his drink he grimaced, remembering the suffocating, pure homicidal rage he had felt when she informed him she had agreed to see a specialist that Granger was bringing in from Europe.
She’s mine, I won’t allow him to take her from me! Fucking rich, spoiled-ass pansy, always getting what he wants. Well this time things will be different!
He
vowed silently.
There has to be a way to get her to see me, I’m the only one she needs. I need to figure out a way to stop her from seeing that specialist, because if I don’t, all my work will fall apart…
he brooded.
Staring into the fireplace, his dark thoughts were interrupted as he heard his front door slam shut with such force the sound was like that of a sonic boom.
Guess her date didn’t go very well…
he thought with considerable amusement. Turning, he watched as Martina stormed into the room. Hurling her purse onto the floor with terrific force, she grabbed two fistfuls of her own hair, gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, then screamed like a bobcat being flayed alive.
Getting up from his seat at the fireplace, he went to the bar and sat down. When her screeching had finally subsided, he gave her a bored look and shook his head sadly. “I assume from that childish performance, you were unsuccessful in seducing that uncouth lout, that hayseed dressed in an Italian suit.” he drawled with distinct mockery.
Irked by his aloof manner, she glared at him, then stomped over to the bar and snatched the drink from his hand. Hoping to quell the burning sting of humiliation she was still feeling, she downed the drink in four giant gulps.
Never having seen her swill liquor with such reckless abandon, his eyes widened in shock momentarily.
“Why didn’t you just let that black bitch die?” she spat as she closed her eyes and grimaced, then opened them again and impaled him with her burning gaze.
“Hey, you said it yourself, why shouldn’t we both have what we want?"
“
Well, I don’t care
WHAT
you want, I’m going to get rid of that troublesome bitch once and for all! No half-assing anymore! I’m going to cut her fucking heart out, and there’s not
a damn thing you’re going to do about it, this time!” she raged, her hatred for the woman making her abandon her usual wary respect for her cousin. “I need another drink.” she mumbled, and made her way around to his side of the bar.

Face flushing in anger, his only reply was to leap from the barstool so quickly she stopped dead in her tracks and began to backpedal, eyes widening with fear. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he snatched her head back savagely, causing her to scream in pain and fear, and her suddenly nerveless fingers dropped the glass she was holding. Before the sound of shattering glass had even dissipated, he had already retrieved a sharp knife from behind the bar with his free hand, a knife always kept there to slice lemons and limes.
She whimpered in fear and nearly lost control of her bladder when he pressed the tip of the sharp instrument against her neck so hard that she felt a warm trickle of blood begin to flow.
“Don’t you dare touch
ONE HAIR
on her head, or there won’t be enough of you left to feed the rest of the tea roses.
Am I getting through to you?" he whispered directly in her ear, making her shiver and close her eyes.
“Now you listen to me, and you listen good. If you fuck with her, which means you’re fucking with
ME
…..before I carve
YOU
up, I’ll bring lover boy over here, tie both of you up, and I’ll make you watch while I cut his throat from ear-to-ear, and pull his tongue out the neck hole. Are we together on this?”
Knowing him well enough to know he meant every word, she nodded her head vigorously.
Satisfied, he tossed the knife on the bar, then slung her to the floor at his feet. Grabbing a slice of lemon from a bowl on top of the bar, he leaned over her, placed the lemon directly onto her neck wound, and squeezed the juice out.
“Please, Brett, don‘t hurt me anymore!" she sobbed as she tried to curl into a fetal position.
Tossing the slice of lemon away, he grabbed her hand and stood, pulling her to her feet.
“Upsie daisy!" he said cheerfully, then grabbed a clean napkin from the bar and began wiping the superficial wound on her neck clean.
“There there now.” he cooed gently. “There’s no reason to be afraid of me, as long as you never cross me,
K?
”
Sniffling, she gave him a small, grateful smile, then wiped her eyes dry.
“That’s a good girl." he murmured as he gave her a lingering, chaste kiss on the cheek.
“You really should put some antibiotic cream on that little cut, I would hate to think your beautiful skin could be scarred. Now, I‘ll drive you to the hotel so you can be close to your love.”
Sniffling one last time, she watched as he went to retrieve the purse she had flung to the floor earlier. Almost absently, she pushed her now-messy hair from her forehead, touched the wound on her neck, and studied the blood that was smeared on her fingertips. She now had yet another reason to hate Cassandra.
That whore has turned the only two men I dearly
love against me….
she thought grimly, and resolved then and there to free the two men from the woman’s evil clutches. Suddenly remembering her cousin’s rage moments earlier, she amended,
But I’ll have to make it look like an accident, a random, senseless crime perpetrated by a stranger. Maybe I can find someone, someone trustworthy, who can make it look like a rape and murder. Then I can be there to comfort my two favorite guys. And I know the perfect person to do the job.

                                                      Chapter 23
 

A loud knocking on the door roused Cassandra from her slumber, and she groaned as she turned over on the couch. Pulling the heavy blanket down from her face, she wondered if the noise she had heard was real, or if she had only been dreaming. When several seconds of silence had passed, she sighed contentedly and snuggled back underneath the blanket and closed her eyes.
Bang....Bang.......Bang!
“Goddammit.” she muttered as her eyes flew wide open. Sitting upright, she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Throwing the blanket aside, she grabbed her glasses off the coffee table and slipped them on.
Standing and stretching wearily, she glanced at the small, battery operated alarm clock on the table. “Who in the blue hell is banging on my door at five thirty in the freakin' morning? It's still dark outside, for Christ sake. This better be end-of-the-world important.” she groused with a scowl on her pretty features. Snatching her favorite pink, quilted robe from the back of the couch, she slipped it on and tied the frayed belt
Walking stiffly to the door, she found herself hoping her mother had gotten a better nights rest than she had. Her mother had paid her a visit late the previous afternoon, and they had both stayed up long into the night talking, catching up. She had regaled her with stories about her childhood, her father, who sadly had passed away, she also spoke at great length about Regan, and her marriage with Granger. She was so grateful for the time they had spent together, and thankful for a family connection, strange as it still felt. She hadn't wanted her mother to have to go back to the hotel, so she had insisted on her sleeping in her own bed.
Bang.....Bang......Bang!
“Alright alright, I hear you, you trying to wake up the friggin'
DEAD?
” she half shouted irritably as she fumbled with the dead bolt.
“Lord have mercy, Cassandra, who's that banging on the door this early?” Jocelyn fussed as she came hurrying out of the bedroom and tying her own robe shut.
“Don't know mom, I don't have a peephole in the door.” she mumbled
Grabbing an umbrella that was propped up in a corner near the door, Jocelyn brandished it like a baseball player at bat. “Well, don't open it until you know. With all the gangs running around these days and doing the home-invasion thing, you never know.” she cautioned.
Even though she knew her mother was right, she still had to struggle to keep from laughing at the comical defensive stance she had taken in front of the door. Turning to face the door again, she called
out, “Who
is it?”
“Your husband. Granger.” came the muffled reply.
       
*********************************************************
The door slowly opened to a sight of pure perfection standing before him. His Cassandra, in all her morning glory. Hair in wild disarray, looking much like the hairstyle the cartoon character Lisa Simpson sported, and sleep-heavy eyes that were regarding him with irritation.
She looks so damn cute, morning drool and all. God, her gentle and overwhelming beauty always shines through, that's the woman I love..
He
thought.
Pulling the ratty, quilted robe tighter around her lush body, Cassandra became increasingly uneasy under his scrutiny. Deliberately avoiding his gaze, her own eyes began to wander, and she suddenly felt her own pulse quicken as her eyes roamed over her pre-dawn guest. Gone was the designer business suit, and in
its
place firm fitting jeans, a tight black tee shirt, waist-length black jacket, and Coleman hiking boots. The outfit, combined with his unshaven, handsome face and mussed up hair, gave him a wild, sexy look that set off an involuntary, yet pleasant tingle deep in her loins.
Absolutely gorgeous!
She
thought as a shudder ran through her entire body. Glancing down at her own sock-covered feet, she was mortified at the thought of him seeing her in such a disheveled state.
What in the world did he ever see in me to begin with? He could have any woman he wants, especially one that doesn't look like Little Orphan Annie..
She
thought.
“Granger, boy, have you lost your mind, waking us up this early? Look at you standing there grinning like a fool! Get yo tired butt in here!” Jocelyn fussed, unable to hide a pleased smile.
Yeah, that boy's determined to win my baby back! I
can’t
wait to see sourpuss Grace's face when she sees them together again..
She
thought. Giggling like a naughty schoolgirl, she propped the umbrella back up in the corner, turned, and shuffled back down the hall towards the bedroom.
“Sorry for waking you Jocelyn, I just wanted to take my wife out for a sunrise breakfast." he called out to her as he stepped inside.
“Well, have fun kids.” she answered, then disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.
Closing the front door behind him and locking it, he grabbed Cassandra's hand before she could get away. “ Good morning.” he murmured, then leaned down slowly and kissed her cheek as his fingers stroked her arm sensuously.
His closeness unnerving her, she closed her eyes and took an unintentional deep breath, his scent making her senses reel. The smell of cedar wood, combined with his natural smell, a man's pheromones, made an amazing, intoxicating mixture.
“Good morning.” she answered breathlessly, feeling like a complete dork, but unable to think of anything else on such short notice.
Caught up in the moment, she was only dimly aware that she had planted her face in his chest, where she inhaled even more deeply. “Hey, are you actually coming around, or am I dreaming?” she heard him ask, as if from a great distance. Her eyes suddenly flew open and grew wide with shock, then she stepped back, pulling her arm free of his grip.
Oh Lord, am I losing what little I have left of my mind? How can I be so turned on by him, especially since I don't even know for certain that he wasn't the one who attacked me? None of this makes sense, he could very well be wanting to kill me, and here I am lusting after him like some sex-starved female prisoner...
she thought.
“What's wrong, did I do something to upset you?” he asked hesitantly, a look of hurt etched across his handsome features.
Oddly enough, when she dared to look back into his eyes, all thoughts of him meaning her harm dissipated like fog underneath a rising sun. Could the usual intimidating, strong-willed, take-charge manner he normally displayed be a facade, hiding the fact that he was just as afraid and lonely as she was? Did she want to know more about him?
Time to take a leap of faith, for my son, myself, and maybe for my.... husband
... she decided. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him squarely. “Give me twenty minutes to get showered and dressed, then we'll see to your sunrise breakfast.” she said quietly, then
turned
and walked off just as Jocelyn emerged from the bedroom and headed for the tiny kitchenette.
Did I hear right? Is she going to turn around any second now and say, Gotcha!
He
thought, completely stunned. Of course he had hoped she would accept, but the pessimist in him had talked him into believing she would accept nothing more than breakfast from the safety of her own apartment. He had been fully prepared for and willing to have to beg and plead with her.
Jesus, don't psychoanalyze it to death, just be thankful she's willing to go...
he reminded himself.
“Remember hon, try to not push too hard, too quickly.” a voice close by said.
Startled from his thoughts, he turned and saw Jocelyn standing there, holding two steaming cups of coffee.
Handing him a cup, she gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder, then turned to go back to bed. It would be the first time in three years she would rest peacefully.
            
*********************************************************
                                   40 minutes later, at Lake Harvest
“How did you come up with this idea?” Cassandra asked as she held up a battery operated lantern, one commonly used for camping. She had been pleasantly surprised when Granger had announced they would be having breakfast on the lake, and would watch the sun come up together. “I don't mean to offend you, I mean, I'm flattered and all, but this...
“she
hesitated, then gestured toward the canoe with her free hand, “this...well...just doesn't seem like it would be your thing.” she finished, then chuckled nervously as she watched him put the large backpack inside the wooden vessel.
Double checking to make sure he had everything, he looked up at her and gave her a coy smile. “Well, actually, you're right, this isn't something I would have come up with.” he said as he stood straight, then reached for the lantern.
Handing it to him, she stood stock-still as he reached out and gently caressed the side of her face with his free hand. She was actually disappointed when he finally pulled his hand away. And she was actually surprised that she was disappointed.
His gorgeous eyes twinkling, he explained. “But this is something that my Cassandra would have done.
WOULD
do, I mean. See, you live for stuff like this, I'm just now beginning to understand it. Before....well, you know, when we were together, I could give you anything, material wise, but all you ever really wanted was my time. You took pleasure simply from being with the people you loved, that's all. I wish...” he faltered as his eyes grew misty under the moonlight, “....I wish I had valued it more, when I had the chance. There's a lot of things I...” he trailed off, and remembering Jocelyn's warning, let the matter drop.
The uncomfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low-keyed honking noise, and they both turned to see a decidedly plump, well-fed gray gander slowly waddling down the wooden pier towards them.
“What's he doing here?
I thought those things found a roost and slept through the night like...well, like roosters.”
Cassandra asked.
“Maybe the lantern woke him up, or maybe he's confused and thinks he's an owl, I dunno'.” he shrugged. “Should be harmless though. Judging by how healthy he looks, I'll wager he's nearly tame, probably gets fed by campers here all the time. Well, shall we?” he finished, gesturing in the direction of the canoe.
Looking back at him, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his captivating gaze.
Is this just a physical reaction, one any woman would have being around a sexy, handsome man, or is what I'm feeling something deeper, something.... real? I did marry him, after all...
she couldn't help but wonder. Taking his outstretched hand, she was grateful for his assistance as he helped her keep her balance as she stepped inside the tiny watercraft and sat down.
Getting in after her, he carefully shoved off from the pier, then picked up the oar and began paddling slowly.
“You said I used to like this?” she asked, honestly curious.
“Well, maybe not this exact thing, but things
like
it. The canoe was my idea, I was trying to be original. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you were always the fun, spontaneous one of us two.” he answered softly.
“Did I do similar things with Regan?”
Before answering he looked around, and satisfied with their location, put the oar down and grabbed the backpack. “Oh yes. Honey, the two of you had all night movie marathons on weekends and holidays. You two would always go out and rent your favorite Three Stooges movies, the ones with Curly, not Shemp. You would never buy the movies, half the fun with you two was going to the video store, picking them off the shelf, and loading up on movie theater type snacks. Then you would come home and whip up a homemade pizza, to top things off. And if it happened to be fall, when you two finally got tired, you would take sleeping bags outside, stargaze while you roasted marshmallows over a small fire, eat them, then go to sleep.”
“Sounds so nice.” she said with a dreamy smile on her face.
“That's just the tip of the iceberg. You threw big Halloween Parties for him every year, too. Oh, and you two would decorate the entire yard, and I mean balls-to-the-wall, if you'll pardon my French. Life-sized, fully dressed witches you two made, using plastic skeletons, minus the skull. For the head you used a Styrofoam wig stand, attached a witch mask, hair, and witches hat. Then you would stand them up over an old cast iron cauldron, one filled with dry-ice to produce smoke, put long, ugly sticks in their hands, and posed them like they were stirring the pot. A red strobe light, lying underneath and covered by a thin layer of leaves, gave the illusion of a fire burning. You two would also strategically place fog machines underneath mounds of leaves in the yard, and when they were set off, the effect looked like something out of a cheesy, yet campy Sci-Fi B-horror movie. And like I said, that's just the tip of the iceberg..” he trailed off, feeling a pang of guilt for all the wasted time, time he could have been spending with them, when he had had the chance.
“Well, when can I see him?” she asked in a wistful voice. “I know he barely remembers me, but I was hoping I could still see him, in the next day or so.”
Inside, he winced. He didn't want her to think he was keeping her from their son, but he also knew Regan had to be protected. Clearing his throat, he spoke gently, yet firmly. “Cassandra, I'm not trying to keep him from you, I would never keep my son's mother from him. But honey, someone tried to kill you, remember? Cass, I can't allow this madness to touch him, or place him in jeopardy. Just give us a little more time to find the animal who hurt you. Sure, I could hire an army of bodyguards, but