McIver's Mission (30 page)

"I do mind," he cut in. "I want some
answers."

"I've given you all the answers I'm going
to."

She started toward the stairs to retrieve the file she
needed.

"I love you, Arden."

His words halted her in her tracks. A long, tense
moment passed before she turned to face him again. "I'll get the last of
my things out of here so I won't have to bother you again."

"You're running scared."

"So what if I am? There's some psycho sending me
threatening letters—to my office, my home, and now here. The cops are pretty
sure he's responsible for torching my apartment and placing a bomb on my desk,
maybe even shooting out my windows, but they don't have a single clue as to who
it might be, and he's still coming after me. I think I'm entitled to feel
scared."

"You should be afraid of him," Shaun said
calmly. "But you're more afraid of what's happening between us. Of the
feelings you have for me."

"You're delusional."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you so determined to leave? Why
now?"

"I told you—this isn't working out, and I thought
it would be easier for both of us if I found somewhere else to stay."

He shrugged. "I have three spare bedrooms."

"Don't you think it would be a little
awkward?"

"Not at all."

She knew his nonchalance was intended to annoy her, to
make her lose her cool. She refused to give him the satisfaction. "Well, I
do. I can't stay here anymore."

"You're safe here, Arden. I have a security
system. I'll hire a twenty-four-hour guard if it will make you feel better. In any
event, you're safer here than anywhere else."

"Goodbye, Shaun."

He made no move to stop her as she went upstairs to
pack. But a few minutes later he came into the bedroom with a suitcase of his
own and began stuffing his clothes into it.

She watched him for a moment, frowning.

"What are you doing?" she demanded at last.

"Packing."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going with you."

Chapter
17

«
^
»

"
W
here?"
Arden sounded genuinely baffled.

"Wherever you're going," Shaun told her.

"No."

"Creighton thinks whoever has been writing the
letters is getting more desperate."

"That's why I have to go."

His eyes narrowed. "You're afraid he'll come
here, aren't you?"

"I need to deal with this on my own."

"Dammit, Arden. Why are you so determined to shut
me out? Don't you know that whatever happens affects me, too?"

"That's the point. I don't
want
this to
affect you."

"It does. And it will, whether you're living here
or not. At least if you're here, you're not alone."

"Please let me go, Shaun."

"I can't. I need you, Arden."

"That's not fair."

"It's true." And he knew it carried more
weight than his love for her. That just plain terrified her. He hated that she
didn't trust his feelings, wouldn't trust her own. But he did love her, and the
love he felt gave him patience he ordinarily wouldn't have. He'd give her time,
as much time as she needed. But he wouldn't give her up.

So he kissed her. It was supposed to be a simple kiss,
a silent pledge of his feelings. But both of their emotions were running high,
and their passions quickly escalated out of control.

They made love wildly, desperately. His hands streaked
over her body, relentless, demanding. She responded to his demands, countered
with her own. They rolled across the bed, on top of the covers, a tangle of
limbs and needs. When he plunged into the wet heat between her thighs, she
screamed out with her release. He tried to hold back, to catch his breath, but
she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper inside.

Lust took over, pushed everything else aside. He drove
into her, again and again, the slap of damp flesh against damp flesh
interspersed with their primitive grunts and moans. It was unlike anything he'd
ever experienced before. Everything he felt was stronger, sharper, deeper, and
the intensity of his orgasm shook him to the very core.

Finally he collapsed on top of her, their bodies,
slick with sweat, still joined together. He wasn't sure whether he should thank
her or apologize, but he knew they'd both needed the release they'd shared. And
he needed to tell her what was in his heart.

"I love you, Arden."

He felt her go completely still beneath hint, her eyes
wide. It wasn't the first time he'd said the words to her, but it was the first
time he'd ever spoken them when their bodies were joined together, warm and
sated from lovemaking. When she couldn't turn away.

"Shaun, please, you promised—"

He knew that if she hadn't been pinned beneath the
weight of his body on the bed she would have bolted. She wanted to. He sensed
that in her, fought the annoyance her response elicited.

"I promised not to push you," he reminded
her. "And I'm not. I'm not asking for anything. But I need you to know how
I feel about you. I want you to get used to hearing it."

"I don't think I ever will," she admitted.
"I don't understand why you think you feel this way."

"Because you're the most incredible woman I've
ever known. You challenge me. You inspire me. You make me a better person. And
I want to spend the rest of my life loving you."

* * *

Later,
in the warm comfort of Shaun's arms, she slept deeply, contentedly. That simple
fact proved to her what she'd been fighting for so long: she needed him. She
wasn't sure how or when it had happened, but he'd become an integral part of
her life, and she was no longer willing to walk away from what they shared
together. Not that he would let her. And she was torn between relief and
frustration that he was so determined to stand by her.

She was also increasingly apprehensive. Two days had
passed since she'd received the letter that promised the time was near. Soon
this nightmare would be over.

She didn't expect it to be as soon as the next day.

It was just after five o'clock when he came in to her
office. Rebecca had gone for the day and Marcy was out at a settlement
conference. Arden was alone.

"Where is she?" his harsh gravelly voice
demanded.

Arden's heart leaped into her throat, choking her. She
hadn't wanted to believe that it could be him. Not now. Not after so much time
had passed.

She looked up from the file on her desk and cringed as
her eyes met his. His were glassy and bloodshot, his face haggard from too much
drink over too many years, his hair more gray than brown now. It had been
twenty years since she'd seen Gavin Elliott, her stepfather, and the years had
not been kind. But there was no doubt that it was him.

She clenched her hands into fists in her lap, tried to
curb the rising panic. She couldn't help feeling like the frightened
eight-year-old girl who wasn't sure what she'd done to displease him, only
knowing that she'd get walloped for it. The terror rose inside her, because she
knew him, and she knew what he was capable of.

Reminding herself that she was an adult and that he no
longer had the power to hurt her, she straightened her shoulders and faced him.
"If you're referring to my mother, I have no idea where she is. But since
you're asking the question, I'll assume she finally walked out on you, and I
can't tell you how happy that makes me."

He crossed over to the desk, not quite steady on his
feet. But the backhanded slap was sharp enough to send her head reeling back,
bring tears to her eyes. She forced her gaze to meet his evenly, but she
couldn't disguise the quaver in her voice when she spoke again. "Get out
of my office."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where
your mother is."

"I don't know where she is," Arden told him.
"But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Don't tell me you don't know, you lying slut.
You've been sending her stuff in the mail, women's lib propaganda."

Arden shook her head. Years ago she'd sent information
to her mother, trying to make her understand that there were places she could
go, people who would help. Her mother had told her not to interfere, and
eventually Arden had given up. She didn't want to know what had finally
compelled her mother to leave the man she'd always defended so staunchly.

"Get out of my office
now
," she said,
rising to her feet, praying that her knees would support her weight. "Or
I'll call the police."

Gavin grabbed the phone on top of the desk with both
hands and heaved it across the room. The trickle of panic that had surfaced
when she'd seen him standing in the doorway of her office gave way to
full-fledged terror.

"I have a right to know where she is," he
snarled. "She's my
wife
."

"You have no right to—"

The words lodged in her throat as he wrapped his
fingers in her hair, pulling her head back so hard and fast she saw stars
behind her eyes. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything she'd read
about abusive parents indicated that they gave up when the kids fought back. But
he was here, and she was scared.

"If I can't have her, maybe I'll settle for
you." His lips curled into something that might have been a smile.

Her stomach churned. His breath was hot and reeked of
whiskey.

"You've grown up real nice, Arden. You look just
like your mother did when we first got married." One hand was still fisted
in her hair, but he closed the other one over her breast, squeezed.

Nausea rose in her throat. Desperation fueled her
response. She brought her knee up hard and caught him between the legs.
Primitive, but effective. He released his grasp to clutch at himself as he fell
to his knees. Arden ran through the door and locked herself in Marcy's office.
She grabbed the phone, her hand trembling, her heart pounding.

Her first instinct was to call Shaun. She desperately
wanted to feel his arms around her, to have him tell her that everything was
going to be okay. But the pounding on Marcy's office door reminded her that
everything wasn't okay, and she knew there was nothing Shaun could do. She
wouldn't let all the old doubts and insecurities control her actions. She had
to be strong.

She dialed the police station.

* * *

Arden
sat in a hard plastic chair, a cup of now-cold coffee clutched in her hands,
calmly reciting the events for Lieutenant Creighton. The earlier debilitating
terror had subsided, or had at least been shoved aside, as she went through the
motions of doing what needed to be done. She wouldn't fall apart. She wouldn't
be intimidated. She wouldn't be a victim anymore.

She'd thought her past was behind her. But if tonight
had proven anything, it was that she wouldn't ever forget what had happened.
The best she could hope for was to learn to live with it, and she knew that
admitting what had happened so many years ago was the first step toward doing
so.

Creighton believed that Gavin Elliott was the man
who'd been tormenting her for the past few months. According to the information
he'd obtained from Arden's stepfather, his wife had left him several months
earlier, just a few weeks before Arden received the first letter.

She couldn't deny that the timing was suspicious, but
the whole plan—the letters, the shooting, the fire, the bomb—had been too
careful, too deliberate, to have been orchestrated by Gavin. Although he was a college
professor, his appearance at her office tonight had seemed spontaneous, a
desperate attack by a desperate man. She'd never got the impression that her
pen pal was desperate. He seemed more calculating. More dangerous.

But there was also evidence that Simon Granger had
spent time in Arizona, and while there was no hard evidence linking him to
Gavin Elliott, it was another coincidence she couldn't ignore.

Still, she would have felt a lot better if Gavin would
just confess. So far he hadn't done so. In fact, he continued to deny any
knowledge of the threats. Of course, he'd also denied ever having hurt her in
the past, so she knew his claims of innocence didn't count for much.

Arden hoped that Creighton was right. She wanted to
put this all behind her. She didn't want to be afraid anymore.

"Ms. Doherty?"

She glanced up. "Sorry."

"Are you okay? Do you want to go to the
hospital?"

"No." She shook her head firmly, then winced
as the motion sent pain radiating through her skull. "I'm fine. I just
want to go home."

Creighton nodded. "I'll have a uniform take you
as soon as we get your statement signed."

She started to protest, to say that her car was still
in the parking lot behind her office. But common sense prevailed. As much as
she wanted to pretend everything was okay, she was still too shaky to drive. So
she nodded slowly, mindful of the pounding in her head. "Thank you."