Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (46 page)

An SUV pulled up. It was simple and black, a Ford Freestyle that looked like it had seen better days. For some reason, though, as it sat there with the doors closed, Elliot felt his heart kick up. He took a deep breath and immediately wished he hadn’t, as pain lanced through his slowly healing chest. “I think she’s here, sis,” he murmured quietly.

“Then why are you talking to me?” Lorna demanded. The call disconnected a second later.

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he realized his hand was shaking. Pulling out a pair of sunglasses, he turned his back and bowed his head, ducking behind a crowd of people for a minute. He needed to get a grip. Needed to get ready to face her.

Needed to know what in the hell he should say,
needed to have the right words, and damn it, there
had
to be the right words. If he lost her …

“No.” Closing his eyes, he pushed that thought out of his head. It wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t lose her. He was sure of that—he had to be. Just as he’d told Lorna, he was sure because it was the only thing he could be.

It was ice cold.

But they didn’t let that stop them.

People gathered all around the house, on the porch, inside, around the back. There were portable heaters, a couple of fire pits, and people. Lots of them. She wasn’t going to let that scare her or stop her. These people were here because Darcy had mattered. Everybody seemed to have a story about her, Shay thought.

She had one, too, but it was trapped inside.

She was my best friend … and I’m the reason she’s dead …

Desolate, lost, she wandered through the crowd of people and felt even more lonely than normal.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed somebody that made her heart race, but when she craned her head to look again, he was gone. She pressed a hand to her chest and told herself to stop it. She saw him everywhere, it seemed. Because she wanted to, needed to.

“Hello, Shay.”

THIRTY

“M
RS
. M
ONTGOMERY.
” S
HAY FLOUNDERED, REACHING
for the words. She shouldn’t be here, she realized. Oh, hell. She was going to make things so much worse. She shouldn’t be here—

“I’m so glad you came,” the older woman whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. She reached for Shay.

She found herself wrapped in an embrace. Tears clogged her throat and she stood there, numb, barely able to breathe, barely able to move. “I … God, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. It was a plea for forgiveness, a plea for things she couldn’t even voice.

As Ella eased back, Shay found herself the focus of eyes that reminded her too much of Darcy’s. A gentle hand touched her cheek. “You blame yourself,” Ella said quietly.

“If it wasn’t for me, Darcy wouldn’t have ever been in danger,” Shay whispered.

“You didn’t bring this on her,” Ella said, shaking her head. “There’s a part of me, yes, that wishes I could blame somebody … hurt somebody. But that somebody isn’t you. The blame rests with the woman who killed my little girl. It’s not you.”

Tears burned, pricking her eyes. “You’re more forgiving than I ever could be.”

“Am I?” Ella absently touched the scars on Shay’s face. “The captain from Phoenix—he tells me your mother died a long time ago. Do you blame her? Could you blame your mother? For giving birth to your sister?”

Appalled, Shay jerked back. “No!”

Ella nodded. “Then perhaps you can understand. You, me, my Darcy … all of us were hurt by this woman. We can add to each other’s wounds by placing blame where it doesn’t belong or we can help each other heal by talking about what a wonderful girl my Darcy was. How she made people laugh. How she made them smile. And if I know my girl, she wouldn’t forgive me if I added to your pain—I can see enough of it in your eyes.”

Staring into Ella’s eyes, Shay whispered, “You can’t forgive me so easily.”

“Shay … you just don’t understand; you’ve done nothing I need to forgive. Now come on. Come tell these people a story about my girl.”

Twice more, she thought she saw him.

After she’d finished talking, awkwardly, stiltedly, about the shy, terrified girl she had been—still was—and the determined woman who had been Darcy Montgomery, Shay found herself standing inside the house on the second floor, staring out a picture window at the crowd that was gathered on the deck. Despite the gently falling snow, there were more people outside than inside, gathered around the roaring fire, the portable heating units, talking, laughing, and crying, all in equal measure.

But she couldn’t see that familiar head of auburn hair, the one she kept thinking she saw, just out of the corner of her eye.

Abruptly, she tensed, acutely aware of a heated presence
at her back. Sucking in a breath, she closed her eyes.
Please …

“Looking for somebody, Shay?”

Her knees buckled. Slamming her hands against the wall in front of her, she rested her head against it, reminding herself of one simple fact—
breathing isn’t optional
. “Elliot.”

“Turn around.”

I can’t
, she thought, hysteria bubbling up in her throat in a nervous giggle.

He decided to help her out, even before she managed to say anything, gentle hands closing around her shoulders, urging her around to face him.

He was pale, she noticed that right away. Paler, thinner, his cheekbones standing out in stark relief against his skin. But his eyes glittered with that familiar, burning intensity.

She couldn’t have looked more stunned if he’d hauled off and popped her one, Elliot decided sourly. He didn’t know whether that was flattering or not. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to shake her, and he was hard-pressed to stay upright. He hurt like hell, his stomach was queasy from the pain meds he’d popped without any food, and if he didn’t sit down soon, he was probably going to fall down.

But none of it mattered.

He finally had her alone and damn it, they were going to have this out.

“What are you doing here?”

Elliot stared at her, clenching his jaw to keep from shouting. A week. It had taken him a fucking
week
to track her down and she wanted to know what he was doing here? “What do you mean, what am I doing here?
You
are here. Where else am I supposed to be?”

Shay stared off past his shoulder. There were family pictures on the wall. She could recognize Darcy in a lot
of them—they all looked so happy. So damn happy, and she’d ruined that.

Ella’s voice drifted back to her.
Could you blame your mother? For giving birth to your sister?

No … shit. Confusion, pain, grief—they all ripped through her mind. “Elliot, you don’t need to be around me.”

Logically, he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t
want
to be. “You should go,” she whispered quietly, edging around him. She had to get away from him, before she grabbed on to him—grabbed on, and never let go. “Go back to Earth’s End, be with your sister … run your store. Forget about me.”

Forget about me. Go find some sort of life
.

And she’d … hell. Do what? The fear that had kept her trapped for so much of her life was gone. She could take her life back, whichever one she chose, and not worry about being found, about being hurt. But the life before her seemed pretty damn empty. There was already a ragged, gaping hole in her chest.

There was a faint, muffled sound—footsteps on carpet—and then Elliot’s voice. Closer. So much closer. She closed her eyes to keep from looking at him, to keep from reaching for him.

“Why shouldn’t I be here? Why am I supposed to leave, Shay?
You
are here, damn it.”

Harsh, bitter laughter escaped her—it hurt. Her heart
hurt
, damn it. She wasn’t as empty as she’d thought; she was full of misery and heartache, and only some of it was related to her sister, her brother, and her mother. But that poison shouldn’t touch him any more than it already had. “Elliot, yes. Exactly.
I
am here … that’s all the more reason you shouldn’t
want
to be.”

“Shay, you’re going to have to help me out here. I’m not following.” He brushed her hand with his.

Just that light touch was painful—a slap to her heart, a blow to her soul. She’d never have this …

Jerking away, she hunched in on herself and glared at him. “Don’t you
get
it?”

“Apparently not.” He caught her hand and tugged her along as he started to walk.

Shay jerked against his hold and he shot her a dark look. “I need to sit down, damn it, and I need to do it soon. So you either walk with me or I’ll pick you up and then when I fall down, you can feel nice and guilty over
that
, too.”

Glaring at him, she said, “Nobody is making you pick me up.”

“Nobody is making you pull the martyr bit, either, but you’re doing a fucking great job.” He paused at a door and frowned as he peered inside, then moved on down the hall. Shay grimaced as he pulled her into what looked like a kid’s bedroom, complete with toys all over the floor.

“I’m not being a martyr,” she snapped at him as he continued to pull her along. He sat and the bed was so low, she ended up half-crouched over. Feeling stupid, she perched at the edge, but he grunted and reached over, pulling her closer.

“That’s better.” He stared at her, and the look in his eyes made her heart race.

It made her heart race in a way that immediately had her looking away. She needed to get up. Run away. He wasn’t moving fast and if she ran …

“Since when did you turn into a coward, Shay?” He brushed her hair away from her face.

“I’ve always been a coward.” She closed her eyes.

“No. You’ve had plenty of reasons to be afraid, but you’ve never been a coward. Until now. You’re thinking about running
again
. When there’s no reason to do it, you’re thinking about running from me. From us.”

“There shouldn’t
be
an us.” Groaning, she looked at him and said, “Don’t you
get
it? I’m poison, Elliot.” She was still horrified over what she’d learned, still reeling over the truths she had faced … over what she was learning.
What if there’s more?

As he laid a hand on her knee, Shay shook her head. “How can you sit so close to me? Damn it, why don’t you see me as a monster?”

“A monster?” Elliot shook his head. “Why in the hell would I see
you
as a monster?”

“My sister murdered my baby brother!” The words felt like they’d been ripped out of her and the pain of it
hurt
. It was visceral in its intensity. “She
killed
him, damn it. And why? Because my mother died in childbirth and because he cried. My stepfather gutted a cat in front of us. And I’ve blocked all of that shit out of my head. Monstrous, awful, evil things. Since then, she’s killed four other people—two of them were babies. She was a fucking monster.”

“Yes.” Elliot cupped her cheek, stroked a thumb over her lip. “She was. There’s no doubt about that. But Shay … she’s
not
you.”

He eased closer, pulled her against him.

“I’m poison,” she choked out.

“No.” He stroked a hand up her back.

“Yes, I am …”

“You were a child trapped in a kind of hell I can’t even imagine. And you survived.
Sane
. And wonderful, and amazing, and strong. There’s nothing poisonous inside you. There’s nothing wrong with you and you’re sure as hell not a monster.”

She shook her head against his chest. She wasn’t sane. Every damn second, she felt like she was losing her mind, that everything was slipping away. She wasn’t wonderful. If she’d been wonderful, she could have
done something to stop Leslie, or at least find justice before now. Nor was she amazing. Or strong.

She was just broken. Completely broken, completely busted inside.

“You
survived
, Shay. You survived not just one monster, but two of them, tormenting you throughout much of your life, and you never let it break you.” Elliot stared down at her, brushing the tears from her face. Her tears, the very heartbreak coming from her, would end him. He knew it. If he couldn’t make her understand … no. It just wasn’t an option. He’d get through to her, because there was no other acceptable outcome. Cupping her face in his hand, he eased her face upright.

She resisted, not wanting to look at him, but he was patient and he didn’t quit until she finally looked up to meet his gaze.

The misery there had him ready to do anything,
anything
, to take that pain away. But he couldn’t. Not if she wouldn’t let him help.
God, please don’t let her shut me out again …

Except he wouldn’t let it happen. He wasn’t walking away this time. Cradling her face in one hand, he stroked his thumb over her lip. “You may not see it, but I do. You survived hell on earth … you survived things nobody should see, much less a child. And it didn’t break you. Shay, you’re not a monster, you’re a damn miracle.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his mouth and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her—quick, hard—and then lifted his head just enough to stare into her eyes.