Mending Fences (22 page)

She went into the house and checked on her sleeping pet before sorting through the mail. Halfway through the extra heavy dose of junk mail, she found a letter for her from the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s office. A flicker of fear lit in her belly as she set the other mail on the counter.

Why would the D.A. be contacting her, unless something had happened with Nate. Had he been released? Her hands shook as she tore open the flap and slipped the paper from the envelope. She unfolded the letter and two newspaper clippings fluttered to the floor. She looked at the letter as she knelt to retrieve the clippings. It was from Deanne, one of the assistant attorneys who helped shore her up during the trial.

I thought you’d appreciate these, and you might never see them if I didn’t send them to you.

She dropped the letter and focused on the clippings. One was a short article. As she read it, the breath vanished from her lungs.

He was dead. Another inmate had killed him.

She fought for air, then read the other clipping. His obituary. She deliberately ignored the photograph.

Nathaniel Louis Fielder, Jr. Gone to the arms of God at age 34.

“Gone to the arms of God? Who are they kidding?” She scanned the rest of the column. Mentions of his family, his schooling, his achievements…

There it was. “We will dearly miss his sweet soul, taken from us too early by mistakes, lies, and a crime committed in a place he should never have been.”

Mistakes. That must be the night he put her in the hospital. Lies. Every word she spoke on the witness stand, in the mind of his mother.

“You lying bitch!” Brenda Fielder’s shrieks echoed through the halls of the court. “How can you do this to him, after everything he has been to you? He’s given you everything, and this is how you repay him?”

She folded the clippings, tucked them into her back pocket, mentally beating back the ghosts inside her. She grabbed her purse and keys and left the house.

She drove over to Curran’s place, trying to sort out the conflicting emotions weaving through her. She turned off the engine at the top of the drive, got out of the vehicle and closed the door as the front door of the house swung open.

He stood in the doorway, looking somewhat rumpled in faded jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt loosely buttoned over a T-shirt, a hand braced against the doorjamb. She drank him in, as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“Come in.” His low voice rumbled to her across the crusted snow.

She approached him, her skin tingling at the way his gaze traveled over her. “If you’re on your way out, I can come back later.”

He touched her arm as she reached him. He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I’ve a lot on the plate today, but none of it is more important than seeing you.”

Her breath caught when he dipped his head, but an acute disappointment followed when his lips brushed her cheek rather than her mouth. Two weeks and counting since he kissed her last, that night at the club, pinning her to the side of the SUV. What was he waiting for?

Victoria walked into the house and dropped onto the sofa. When he sat beside her and took her hand, she said, “Some interesting news came in the mail today.”

“What sort of interesting?”

“Nate is dead.” The words left her with a strange taste in her mouth. It occurred to her that of all the things she wished on Nate, death wasn’t one of them.

Curran’s brows raised. “How?”

She slipped the newspaper clippings from her jeans pocket and gave them to him.

He studied the short articles. “Where did you get these?”

“One of the attorneys in the D.A.’s office thought I’d sleep better if I knew.”

His gaze locked with hers. “And will you?”

A sheen of tears clouded her vision. Frustrated at her own emotions, she blinked and swallowed hard, forcing them back. “Isn’t it wrong to be so happy that someone lost his life?”

“Not when that someone hurt you the way he did.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “How the hell would you know? We’ve never discussed it.”

His eyes darkened, but he said nothing as she pulled her hand free of his and paced across the room. She turned back to him and compelled herself to give voice to the thoughts churning at fever pitch. “Curran, he did hurt me. He cracked three of my ribs, knocked my front teeth loose, gave me a serious concussion, and broke my right arm in two places with his golf club. The club was considered a deadly weapon and it’s the only reason he served longer than six months.”

“So why are you feeling guilty?” The low, even question cut to her heart. How did he do that? How did he see through to her inner thoughts?

She pressed her fingers against her eyes, willing the tears back again. “In the two and a half years I was with him, that was the only time he ever physically hurt me. I mean, yeah, he said cruel, horrible things to me, and by the end my self-esteem was practically non-existent, but to lose his life because he wouldn’t let me leave?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, her soul shrinking inside her. He was dead, and she still felt cornered. “Look at Kelli. Her husband hurt her all the time. He deserved to serve his two years and lose his wife and his son. Nate flew off the handle one time. One time! He didn’t deserve to be stabbed to death with some makeshift knife in a prison shower.”

Somewhere along the way, Curran had crossed the room to stand by her side. The security of his arms beckoned her, but she turned away. She didn’t belong in that comfort, not after what she had done. She wasn’t worth a man’s life.

Warm hands settled on her waist. Heat radiated against her back as his body shifted closer to hers. His breath stirred the hair beside her ear.

“You didn’t make his choices for him, Victoria.” The quiet rumble of his voice vibrated deep in her chest. “He chose his path, and the consequences that came with it.”

He turned her, sliding his hands up the sides of her neck, gently bracketing her face. She met his gaze, and her knees weakened at the stern protectiveness in his eyes. “This is not your fault. I swear to you, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Oh, God, she wanted to believe him. Her bruised soul needed to believe him, the desperation clawing for relief the way the drowning want air.

“Victoria. How can I help you see the woman I see?”

She wanted to laugh. He saw a woman who didn’t exist. She knew who she really was inside. A woman capable of sending away her own flesh and blood forever, a woman able to send a man to his death.

He stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. You haven’t fooled me. As Jamie is so fond of telling me, I’m a shark. I got where I am in this life by seeing through other people. What surprised me with you is that, under the surface, you’re the same woman you present to the world, just a hell of a lot more complex.”

He slid his hands back to her shoulders, a smile tugging at his lips. “There is nothing about you that is bad or evil. There is nothing about you that is worthless.”

She didn’t try to sweep away the tears before they trickled down her cheeks. “But I shouldn’t be happy he’s gone.”

“Are you happy about it? Or, are you simply feeling tremendous relief that he can’t ever frighten you or hurt you again?”

Relief. Now that the foreign spot of weightlessness inside her had a name, it went supernova, expanding at light speed. She threw her arms around his neck, security enfolding her as his arms molded her to him. “I feel so free.”

He gave her a squeeze. “Don’t give him another thought, Victoria. It’s over.”

He gently disengaged her arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead before setting her back from him. Her heart skipped into an ominous pounding. Wrapped up in her own blind need, she hadn’t realized something was bothering him. A fresh edge of guilt knifed through her.

“Are you okay?” She touched his face, and he pressed her palm to his mouth, then released her.

“Fine. I need to go, though. One of the horses is ready to be picked up at the vet.”

I’ll go with you.
She stopped the words before they formed on her tongue. Sometimes Curran needed solitude, and since they were back to seeing each other every day, he likely wasn’t getting as much as he needed.

He’d kept her from shattering just now, helped her regain her footing. The least she could do in return was let him have the time to himself she’d interrupted.

Curran walked her to the SUV and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before helping her into the vehicle. Before he closed the door, she reached out, drew her finger along his jaw. “Thank you.”

He took her hand in his, kissed her knuckles. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

His smile lent lightness to her heart. “Good. I’ll call you tomorrow, right?”

She nodded and let him close the door, then watched him walk toward his truck, in the smooth, purposeful gait that spoke of a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it.

He’d call her tomorrow. Yeah, he definitely needed to be alone. Oh, well. She needed to exercise the horses anyway.

* * * *

Three days later, Victoria let Curran into the house and promptly handed Sassy to him. “I’m almost finished cleaning her cage, but she wants to cuddle and I can’t do both at the same time.”

Curran set the rat on his shoulder. “Okay, I’ll trade you. Here. This might make a good cage liner.” He waved a newspaper at her.

One of the weekly tabloids. She examined the cover, showing various stars surrounded by garish headlines. “What’s this?”

He gave her a half-smile, then scratched the rat under her chin. “That is karmic justice for you, honey. I hate it, but after the way I accused you, I deserved it.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, then flipped to the page marked by a slip of white paper. A series of photographs with a short article. Now this was surreal. A murky photo of Curran holding Danny against the wall at Brindle’s. Another of her telling him off. She shook her head at the weirdness of seeing her face in a national tabloid. “Oh, my.”

“The one at the bottom is my favorite.”

Another of Curran storming out of the club. The final one, at the bottom, of her wrapped in his arms, against her vehicle. Wow. The kiss looked like something out of the movies, and her stomach flip-flopped, recalling the fire in that kiss.

She thought back to the club. “I didn’t see anyone taking pictures that night.”

Curran picked Sassy off his shoulder and held her against his chest, petting her. “I’m usually aware of paparazzi cameras, but everyone has a cell phone camera. It could have been anyone.”

Victoria scanned the article. The infamous ‘sources’ said Curran was in Park City to ski, but may have purchased recreational property in the area. Something about his lover—oh, that would be her. Heat rose in her cheeks, but she had to laugh when she read the last of the article. “Oh, I’ve been identified as a European model, have I?”

“You’re tall, you’re striking. Natural assumption for them to make.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She’d never thought of herself as anything close to model material. It made her feel good, until the implications of seeing photos of Curran in a tabloid hit her. “This is the first time you’ve shown up in one of these things since you retired, isn’t it?”

The frustration in his eyes overshadowed his fleeting smile. “I did it to myself. I lost my temper and made a scene, and I earned this.”

She followed him as he carried Sassy into the great room and sat on the couch. The rat scooted up his chest, curled into a ball under his chin and closed her eyes.

Victoria sighed. “I’m sorry, Curran. It’s been so long since you dropped out of sight, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a camera magnet anymore.”

“Sitting there having a beer wasn’t story-worthy. The fight made me tabloid fodder. Though they seemed to like my attempt at making up with you.” He growled in his throat, stabbing his fingers through his thick hair. “You’d think after I spent so long trying to stay under the media radar, I’d have known better than to go off like that.”

There really wasn’t anything to say other than agreeing with him, which he wouldn’t appreciate. When he picked up the TV remote and started channel surfing, Victoria returned to the kitchen to finish washing out Sassy’s food and water dishes.

She listened to the TV as she worked. The picture channel changed through a dozen satellite channels, then stopped on a Los Angeles station’s evening news broadcast. Curran didn’t care for television much, but she knew he watched the L.A. news regularly, and had kept his subscription to the L.A. Times. He clearly missed living in California, missed his old life more than he would ever admit if she asked him about it.

So why had he retired and left in the first place? She’d never dared to flat-out ask him. He was starting to open up to her, but she wanted to ask that question when she could be reasonably sure he’d answer it.

She put the cage back together, dumped in fresh aspen shavings, then retrieved Sassy from her cuddle spot under Curran’s chin and put the rat back into her home.