If You See Her (35 page)

A car came flying up behind her.

Blue. Dimly, her mind processed the fact that it was a blue sedan—light blue. Just like the car she’d seen following
her on the interstate when she went to Lexington.

She was busy trying to control the car, and her fear, as the sedan shot into the other lane—bare inches separated them. She yelped, clutching the wheel, almost jerking it to the side.

She was driving too fast, though—right before she could do that, she made herself stop, pressing down on the brake, even as the car edged closer, closer. Shooting it a look from the corner of her eye, she saw a face.

A shock of pale, pale blond hair. A square ruddy face.

Familiar—

Joe
 …

Her heart leaped into her throat and terror crowded her mind.

But then the car pulled ahead, and before she could so much as blink, it pulled in front of her and, with a squeal of the tires, sped away.

It was gone from sight long before her heart rate settled.

“Shit,” she whispered.

Oh, shit.

Joe
.

The look of terror on her face had been worth it. He didn’t think she’d gotten that good a look at him. Not enough to be certain.

Just enough to suspect.

And if he knew anything about his mouse of a wife, she wouldn’t dare call the cops. He knew how scared she was of them, after all.

Chuckling, he kept an eye on the rearview mirror, watching to see if the beat-up car she drove appeared in it. It didn’t, though. Pulling off onto a side road in town, he parked so that he’d have a view of Main Street when she arrived. It was almost five minutes later.

He wished he could see her face.

Wished he could have been close enough to watch how she reacted.

Soon, he told himself.

Soon.

Her earlier excitement had faded and in the pit of her belly, there was a cold, hard lump. But she wasn’t going to let that keep her from this afternoon.

She wasn’t going to let it freeze her, wasn’t going to let it control her.

And even though all she wanted to do was
run
, she wasn’t going to let it chase her away, either.

Hope stood in the middle of the empty apartment and stared all around. Chewing nervously on her lower lip, she glanced over at the realtor and then back at the apartment. “It seems kind of … well, big for one person,” she said quietly.

“Wait until you start trying to fit furniture in.” Remy came up behind her and slid an arm over and around her upper body, easing her back against him. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Trust me, it just looks this big because it’s empty.”

Relaxing against him, she tried to picture some furniture in the place and thought that maybe he was right. Maybe. A couch along that wall. A TV. She gulped and muttered, “Furniture. Hadn’t even thought about that part.”

The realtor beamed at her. “It’s always so exciting, though, getting a new place.”

Hope felt kind of nauseated. Exciting … getting a place of her own. A real place. Not crashing at a shelter or one of those damn long-term hotel type places, or sleeping in her car, renting a room over a garage. And not living with Law, or Joey … but her own place.

No, exciting wasn’t the word she’d use. Terrifying.

Alone—

Abruptly, she found herself thinking of the car she’d seen earlier. Following her along the highway.

No. He hadn’t been following her.

You’ve got to stop this
, she told herself. Fear had dominated her life for too long. Way too long.

“I’ll take it,” she said, forcing herself to sound a lot more certain than she felt.

The realtor’s beaming smile grew even wider. “Oh, wonderful …”

“You sure?” Remy murmured.

“Yes.” She nodded. If she thought about this for too much longer, she was going to change her mind, and she couldn’t do that—she needed to do this. Needed it.

Tipping her head back, she smiled at him. “I need my own place, Remy. I really think it’s the best thing,” she said, keeping her voice low.

Off in her own little world, the realtor was jabbering about the deposit—first month and last month’s rent, the low monthly payments and how, isn’t it just wonderful? Cable and utilities were included. “Of course, there will be a credit check …”

She couldn’t help it—Hope tensed. Could she pass a credit check?

“Marta, we’ll get to all of that,” Remy interrupted, giving the realtor a smile. “Why don’t you head on back to the office and start drawing up what needs to be done? We’ll meet you there in a few minutes. I can lock up, if that’s okay with you.”

Marta chuckled. “Well, normally, I’d say no. But with you, Remy, not a problem.”

Hope watched, focusing on the realtor with more concentration than she really needed. Marta actually
bustled
. It was a sight to see, really.

A few minutes later, they were alone and as Remy studied her face, Hope had to fight not to fidget.

She still hadn’t settled from earlier. From seeing that damn car.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know if I can pass a credit check.” She forced a laugh and hoped he’d buy that line. “Plus, they’ll want things like references.”

But Remy didn’t buy excuses, or lines, and she should have known better.

Lifting a brow at her, he suggested, “Try again.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Hope pushed a hand through her hair, and looked away, studying the little apartment and trying not to feel too disappointed. Even as nervous as she was about being on her own, some part of her was almost greedy for it. But stupid, stupid, stupid … she hadn’t thought about things like credit checks, credit histories, references.

Hell.

“Is it the idea of moving?”

She grimaced. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it. And no. It’s not that, at all. I
need
to get out on my own. It’s not about getting away from Law. It’s about being on my own, for a while at least … and not running while I’m at it. I have to prove to myself I can
stay
in one place, and not be afraid, you know?”

He cradled her cheek. “Then you can have it. Not having a credit history isn’t the end of the world. As to references, you’ve got at least one solid one—and I’m not talking about me. You know Law will give you one.” He stroked a thumb over her lip. “This isn’t New York—we still take some things on faith around here, Hope. I can talk to Marta, and I’ll co-sign the rental agreement for you, if you want—and that’s
if
they insist it’s needed,” he murmured. “Or you can ask Law. He won’t care. And the owner might not push the issue.”

She grimaced. “It still feels like I’m leaning on others.”

“It’s not leaning. You’re paying the bills. You’ll be living here.” Dipping his head, he rubbed his lips over hers. “But you may be surprised. It’s not like you need that much of a credit history if you’ve got the money for the first month’s rent, last month’s rent, and all that jazz. Of course, if you’re that concerned, then you wait awhile, build a bit of a history. Then try again.”

“No.” Hope scowled at him. “Waiting isn’t an option.”

“I thought you’d say that. Although I’m wondering why you’re suddenly so anxious to get away. You’re not still angry with him, are you?”

Angry.

Hope eased away from him and folded her arms over her chest, pacing over to stare out the window. From here, she could see the front windows of Remy’s apartment. A plus in her opinion. He was close—real close.

Resting her brow against the sun-warmed glass, she said, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m still … stunned, I guess you can say. Very stunned. But it’s not just that. I just can’t seem to breathe lately. At all. Law is constantly hovering and I can’t handle it, and when I try to tell him, it’s like he can’t understand. He looks at me and just sees …”

Her voice trailed off and she sighed, shook her head. She didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

“He failed you—that’s what he remembers,” Remy said quietly. “And every time he sees you, he remembers how he failed to help, and some part of him is driven to fix that, no matter what. He can’t see past that.”

“Law didn’t fail me,” she said quietly. “I failed me.”

“That’s bullshit. Neither of you failed. The person who failed you is that bastard who hurt you.” Remy came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist,
pulling her back against him. “I can understand why Law is beating himself up over it—I’d probably be doing the same. And I can understand why you want to beat yourself up. You keep looking back and wondering if you couldn’t have gotten out sooner, if you could have kept him from hurting you if you’d done this, or that. But it’s all bullshit, for both of you. The person who failed was your ex. Not you … and not Law.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Then she opened her eyes, staring out at the street, the festive Halloween decorations going up all along Main Street. Halloween. Almost time for Halloween.

The time for masks, and candy, and scares. She found herself thinking of that blue car … and the man she thought she’d seen. Had it been Joe?

Licking her lips, she said quietly, “I think I saw Joe earlier.”

Remy stiffened. His hands curled around her shoulders.

She closed her eyes.

“What?”

“Joe. My ex-husband. I think I saw him.”

“I know who he is,” Remy snarled, his voice low and angry. “Where?”

“On the drive into town. A blue sedan,” she said quietly. “The car came flying around me, came so close, I almost drove off the road to get out of the way—I can’t be sure. I only saw his face for a second. But … it looked so much like him.”

“Do you think it was him?”

Hope swallowed. The fear in her heart, clawing in her belly, all of it shouted,
Yes
. Turning her head, she met his gaze. “Yes.”

Remy’s eyes, dark and hard as blue diamonds, held hers. “Would he come here? After you?”

“Oh, yes. In a heartbeat.” Unable to stop herself, she laughed, but it hurt her throat—it was like regurgitating jagged, harsh bits of glass.

“Yes, he would, if he got it in his mind that he wanted me back. He told me before that he wouldn’t let me go. That’s why I spent so much time running … I was afraid he would come after me. And I didn’t want to be easily found.”

“And you’re sure it was him?”

A sound, strangely like a sob, caught in her throat. “Am I sure? Hell, I don’t know.” Shaking her head, she whispered again, “I don’t know.” She curled her hands into fists. “There’s no reason for him to be here. None.”

“You’re wrong.” Remy reached up and touched her cheek, stroked his finger along it and wondered if she knew just how wrong she was. He suspected none of them knew just how fucked up her ex-husband was, but he was definitely fucked up. In the worst possible way. And if he was in town looking for her … His gut knotted. His hands ached to pummel something. But he kept his voice quiet, soft, as he murmured, “You’re wrong, Hope. To him, he’s got every reason to be here—after all, you are here. You already made it clear he doesn’t let go easily.”

Hope swallowed. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No.”

“I’ll ask again. Was it him?”

“You can ask me fifty times. A hundred times. The answer won’t change. I just don’t know, Remy.” She sighed and leaned forward, resting her head against his chest.

The gesture made his heart ache. Reaching up, he curled his hand around her nape. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“I only saw him for a minute. Just a minute. The hair was right … the shape of his face was right. It looked a lot like him. But I can’t swear it was him.” A shiver raced down her spine.

He wrapped an arm around her. The hand he’d laid on her neck, he stroked down her spine. She was cold, he realized. Chilled, although it wasn’t cold in the room. Cuddling her closer, he whispered, “He won’t touch you. He won’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”

“If it was him …” Her voice faded away, then she shook her head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

He reached down and cupped her chin, angled her head back until she faced him. “Tell me, Hope.”

Fear had darkened her eyes to nearly emerald. “Remy, if it was him, he’s dangerous. Nobody else wanted to believe that. Just Law. But he’s dangerous.” She swallowed and then whispered, “I think he’s crazy.”

Abruptly, she laughed. “And that’s a fucking laugh, isn’t it? Coming from me. Pot … meet kettle.”

“Hope, you’re not crazy. You never were. I already know he’s dangerous.” He skimmed a hand through her hair. “Decent, nondangerous men don’t have their wives admitted to a psych hospital for no fucking reason, but he did it and because he has a badge, because he lives in a town where people think his name, his word means something, they were able to keep you locked up. They violated your rights and took something they had no right to take, and he’s the reason they did it. If he can do that to you, he can probably do it to others—I get that he’s dangerous.”

Hope grimaced. “That’s not exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I know.” He stroked a hand down her cheek. “But I’m not a woman who’s half his size … and I’m not one
of the people he’s bullied and intimidated for half of his life, either. Stop worrying about me.”

Hope shook her head. “I can’t.” Staring up at him, she suddenly started to think, to wonder … what if it
had
been Joe? And he saw her with Remy? He’d gone ballistic just when she would talk to Law and he knew that her relationship with Law was nothing more than friendship. If he saw her with a guy who clearly wasn’t a friend …

She started to shake. Her belly clenched and knotted. Her airway started to shrink down on her. Feeling that inevitable press of panic pushing down on her, she eased away from Remy. “I need air,” she whispered. Turning away, she started to pace. She hated this—hated it. Hated how easy it was for that fear to sneak up on her, to take control, to drive everything, anything from her mind. Hated it …

She wanted to push it away, push it outside herself and not let it take control, but her imagination was running wild now and she could see it … what would happen if Joe discovered her relationship with Remy.