When Bruce Met Cyn (25 page)

“It's not because you feel inferior?”

“No,” she lied. But that definitely played into it. Most of Bruce's friends, now her friends, too, were so much more sophisticated and knowledgeable about current issues, politics and everything else. Cyn knew how to survive on very little, but what use was that to a preacher's wife? She wanted him to be proud of her. She wanted him to have reasons to be proud.

Bruce didn't look convinced. “You're one of the smartest people I know, Cyn. Intelligence isn't always measured by what you've learned in a book. You're well read, reasonable, and you have loads of common sense.”

God, it made her uncomfortable whenever he lauded her so-called positive traits.

“But all that aside, I think more education is always a good thing.”

Cyn fretted the envelope, folding and unfolding it. “I don't know for sure what it'll cost, but I think what Mary pays me will cover it.”

“We'll sit down and go over our budget once the church is open. How's that?”

“I don't want your money. You've done enough—”

Before she could blink, Bruce had jumped up, his face going dark with anger. “It's not my money, it's
our
money. We're married, which means we share a partnership in every sense of the word. That includes all things financial. And as for what I've done, I found myself a wife who suits me perfectly. That's all.”

“But—”

“No buts. I mean it, Cyn. Don't push me on this.”

Cyn still had her savings, and she made a stipend from Mary. Somehow, she'd managed with that, but she nodded to Bruce anyway. “Fine.”

“Great.”

He all but crackled with annoyance. Her mouth twitched in a smile. “You're not very good at arguing.”

Eyes darkening, he leaned forward and kissed her hard, then, against her lips, he whispered, “Maybe that's because I know of better ways for us to spend our time.”

Cyn pressed both hands to his chest. The envelope she held crumpled even more. “Oh no, you don't. I'm making dinner. The roast has been cooking for an hour and I've got to get the potatoes on soon.”

Bruce looked past her to the stove, sniffed the air with appreciation, and finally gave up. “Smells great.” He kissed her again, a soft, quick peck. “After dinner, then.”

She patted his chest and grinned cheekily. “I'll hold you to that.” She returned the envelope to Bruce, saying, “I'll look at this later,” then went back to the sink while Bruce bent to pick up the rest of the mail.

Cyn had just turned on the burner beneath the pot of potatoes when she felt the stillness in the air. A cold finger of dread tickled up her spine. Heart hammering, stomach tight, she turned to Bruce.

He was standing right behind her, staring at the small package. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

A surge of anger ripped through her. She would not let anything threaten her happiness with Bruce. “What is it?”

He held the package with his fingertips on the uppermost right-hand corner. “I don't know.” His voice was deep and distracted with worry. “It's addressed to you, but doesn't have a return address.”

One last kernel of hope remained. “Then maybe it's nothing. An advertisement or a sample or something.”

“No, it's not from a company. The address is handwritten. And it was mailed from North Carolina.” His eyes lifted from the package to lock on Cyn's.

Breathing became more difficult, but in a voice flat and devoid of emotion, she said what they both were thinking. “Then he's still here.”

Bruce didn't agree or disagree. He set the package on the table and stalked to the phone. “Don't touch it. Maybe he left fingerprints this time. We'll call Scott and he can open it.”

Dread bloomed inside her, vying with the anger. “We don't know what it is. It could be something I don't want Scott to see. What if Palmer has sent something nasty and degrading—”

Bruce held the phone with one hand and pulled her into his side with the other. He started to speak to Cyn, but didn't have a chance. “Yeah, Scott. It's Bruce.”

Cyn squeezed her eyes shut. Palmer was never going to let her be free to live her life without looking over her shoulder. She'd known it all along, but hadn't wanted to accept the truth.

Bruce spoke with Scott, quickly explaining and saying that he could bring the package to the station if Scott thought it was necessary.

To Cyn's surprise, Scott offered to come to them instead. “We'll be here,” Bruce promised. He hesitated, half smiled in weary amusement and said, “Sure. Bring Alyx along. We haven't seen her since the wedding.”

He finished the call and hung up. He caught Cyn's shoulders and gently caressed. “Now, listen up. You are not the villain in this, honey. It doesn't matter what Palmer might send you—he's a cretin and everyone knows it. Understand?”

One thought crowded out all others, burning inside her, making her rage expand. “He took so much pleasure in humiliating me.”

“And that makes him an animal. It does not detract from who you are.”

For a man who'd run a safe house, Bruce could be so naïve. “You can't know.”

“No, I can't. My life has been blessed. I should feel guilty because of that, but I don't. It afforded me an opportunity to help others.”

Sneering, hurting, Cyn said, “Like me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew.” He drew her close and hugged her. “There's never been anyone like you. If you were the same as the others, I'd have done what I could to help you, but I wouldn't have married you.”

“You had no choice.”

“No,
you
had no choice. I was bound and determined to have my way, to have you, and I did. Now, please trust me when I tell you that, for those who know you and care about you, Palmer can't affect the way they feel. He can only expose himself further.”

Yes, little by little, Palmer got closer to her. Pretty soon, he'd get too close, and then…“Sooner or later, something is going to happen.”

“I don't want you to worry.”

Cyn pushed away from Bruce with a laugh. “Oh, I'm not worrying. I've had enough. I'm sick to death of it. If Palmer wants to play games, then he'd better be prepared to lose.”

Bruce went rigid with alarm. “You are not to go anywhere near him.”

“How's that even possible? If that package is from him, and he's in North Carolina, then he could well be right here, still, in Visitation. He's tracking me, and it's not like Visitation is a crowded city with plenty of places to hide.” She paced the kitchen, scenarios playing out in her mind. “Sooner or later, we're bound to find each other.”

“Stop it!” Bruce caught her arm, but Cyn jerked away.

“No, you stop!” She was too afraid, for herself and what she had with Bruce, to be reasonable.

“Do I look like a damn coward to you? Do you expect me to sit at the table and wring my hands? Do you expect me to pray for my safety?” She poked a thumb into her chest. “I've written my own fate since I was seventeen and I'll damn well write this. Palmer thinks he wants revenge? Ha! If I ever find him, I'll—”

Bruce erupted with a combination of fear and rage. He grabbed Cyn's shoulders in his big, hard hands and shook her until her teeth rattled. “You will do nothing! You'll avoid him at all costs, do you hear me, Cynthia Kelly? If I have to stay on top of you to keep you safe, then that's what I'll do. You're my wife.
My wife.
I've only just found you and I'm not about to lose you now.”

Cyn stared at Bruce in horrified wonder. He was livid. He was shouting, when Bruce never shouted. His face was mottled red, his eyes burning with his rage.

As they stared at each other, a feral growl exploded from deep in his chest. In the next instant, he'd hauled her into his arms, kissing her hard, his mouth grinding down on hers, his tongue invading. His hands were all over her back, down her spine to her buttocks where he pulled her tight into his body.

Cyn moaned, not in discomfort but in fast-rising desire. It hit her like a tsunami, drowning her, bruising her defiance with the power of it.

And a knock sounded on the kitchen door.

Bruce moved away from her so fast she nearly collapsed. He turned his back on her, both hands in his hair, his shoulders taut, his biceps bunched.

Wow. Touching her mouth, Cyn glanced at the door. Through the glass, she saw Scott, looking chagrined, and Alyx Winston, grinning like a magpie.

She'd forgotten all about them. But geez, they'd made quick time. And good thing, otherwise they might have found her and Bruce sprawled out on the kitchen table.

Bruce was no help. He still had his back to her, breathing hard. Poor baby. He wasn't used to such excess of emotion. Neither was she, but she liked it.

Plastering on a smile, Cyn went to the door and opened it. “Hey, there. Dinner's almost ready. Maybe you two will join us.”

Alyx hooked her arm through Scott's and dragged him in. “We'd love to.” And then to Bruce, “A passionate preacher! Will wonders never cease.”

“Shut up, Alyx,” Scott said, and she only laughed.

What the heck, Cyn laughed, too. She'd meant what she said. Let Palmer try his worst. She'd be ready for him.

A thorny bush scratched his back, and rocks dug into the soles of his feet. He was sick and tired of holing up in the mountains, but at least no one looked for him there. You could hide forever and never be found.

But he'd prepared for everything. He had enough food, the nights were warm, and a natural spring made it easy to clean the sweat off his body when he started feeling fastidious. The entire area was his toilet, so he wanted for nothing.

Except Cyn.

He snickered, settling deeper onto the bed of fallen leaves and mossy ground. Around him, a few insects buzzed and somewhere off in the distance, an animal howled.

Just thinking of Cyn's reaction when she opened the package made him nearly giddy with excitement. He hoped she felt threatened. He hoped it scared her good.

Stupid bitch, writing all that stuff about him. And marrying a preacher. He snorted. It was sacrilege, a crime against humanity. She'd pay for that, too. So many ways he'd make her pay.

And God, thinking of that always made him throb with anticipation. She was such a whore, beckoning him even though she wasn't near and he couldn't see her or smell her or…he shuddered,
touch
her.

With powerful binoculars, he could watch her from a safe distance away. These days, a sinner could buy anything from the Internet—night goggles, tiny cameras, anything. Not that he was a sinner. No. She corrupted him. She made him do things.

He rubbed his tired eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He needed her. She was like a burning in his veins that could only be cooled by having her. He'd been on fire since the first time he'd seen her. Once he got her, he'd take her into the mountains with him and tie her to a tree and do anything and everything to her that he'd ever imagined.

His guts twisted and predictably, he got a boner that throbbed and ached until he loosened his pants and closed his fist around himself. He shouldn't waste himself this way, but damn her, she was elusive. She'd somehow conned that preacher into marrying her, and that made the preacher damned, too.

He'd get her. His hand moved faster, picturing Cyn helpless in front of him, begging, crying. His eyes closed, his jaw slackened, and his lips parted. Oh yeah, he'd get her. Very soon now. Very soon.

The guttural howl of a human echoed around the mountain, more sinister than any animal's could be.

 

Bruce was ashamed of himself for losing his control, and for blasting Cyn with his temper. He wanted to protect her, not hurt her. She needed his reassurance and understanding, not abusive shouting. At the moment, she wouldn't even look at him.

Her attitude kept his anger on the ragged edge. He'd been wrong to shake her, and he'd apologize later. But how dare she even think about putting herself at risk?

Scott caught his attention when he pulled out a plastic bag and a large, tweezer-type tool. “Let's open it first, then I'll put it in the bag and get it tested. It'll probably take a few days.” Alyx hung over his shoulder, Cyn sat at the table, somehow distant and quietly aggressive, paying them no mind.

Bruce let her stew. With both Scott and Alyx in the kitchen, he couldn't say what he had on his mind anyway. “What can I do to help?”

Scott asked, “Get a table knife. Something we can use to work out the folds in the wrapper without touching it.”

Together, Bruce and Scott got one end of the package opened. Bruce peered inside. “It looks like a thin book of some kind.”

Cyn snapped her head in their direction. “My journal?”

Scott raised his brows. “Could be.” Using the tool, he peeled back the taped edge of the brown paper, lifted one end, and gently shook until the worn, faded journal slid out and landed on the table with a
thunk.

Cyn stared at it with the same intensity she might have given a snake. “He took it.” And then, with gritted teeth, “He stole my journal.”

Bruce used the knife to turn back the front cover. Inside was a young girl's precise handwriting. It said
Private Property of Cynthia Potter.
New emotions gripped him. With Cyn, he stayed in a jumbled torment of indefinable feelings and urges. “You left it behind when you ran away?”

“Yeah.” Her laugh was dry, chagrined. “I stupidly thought maybe someone would read it and know I hadn't meant to kill him.”

Alyx Winston had been quiet too long. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and shook back her long, dark hair. “Well, I say it's too damn bad the chump didn't die.”

Cyn said nothing to that, and Bruce silently agreed.

Alyx elbowed Scott. “So? What are you going to do about this?”

Scowling, Scott rubbed his ribs where her pointy elbow had landed. “There's nothing I can do yet, other than get it tested for prints.”

Rolling her eyes, Alyx said, “Swell. In the meantime, I have a plan.”

Scott bodily removed her from the table. “No, you do not.”

Cyn interrupted an argument by saying in an emotionless voice, “There's a marker in the middle of the journal. I didn't put it there, so he must have.”

The men looked at each other first, then again, using great care, opened the book to the marked page. Next to Cyn's neat script was a message in bold red marker.

And then she died for her sins.

Alyx caught her breath. Cyn scraped back her chair and lunged to her feet. Without a word, she paced away to the kitchen window.

Bruce wanted to find Palmer and kill him with his bare hands. He couldn't pull his gaze away from the horrid message, or what Cyn had written before it, when she'd been a girl of seventeen. He read aloud, “One way or another, I have to get away, and soon.”

Scott put his arm around Alyx's shoulder, presumably to offer comfort. “You were certainly right about that, Cyn. He's not right in the head.”

“He's evil,” Alyx corrected.

Bruce watched Cyn. When she clammed up, she scared him. “Cyn is resourceful. She did get away, and now she's here, with me, where I can keep her safe.”

“And I know how to get him.”

Scott said, “No, you don't,” and released her to put the journal and the wrapping in the plastic bag.

“I do, too,” Alyx insisted. “Look at me and look at Cyn. We both have long, dark hair. Okay, so I'm taller, but I could slump.”

“Forget it, Alyx.” Scott glanced up at Bruce.

“The postmark tells us that it was mailed from right outside Visitation, only two days ago.”

Alyx didn't give up easily. “You could use me as a decoy.”

Both men stared at her in shared horror.

“When he crawls out from under his rock to get me, you could be waiting—”

Scott smashed his hand over her mouth. He looked incredulous, outraged, and dumbfounded. “Don't. Even. Think. It.”

Brows drawn, Alyx mumbled rapid arguments, but Scott wasn't lifting his hand.

Bruce drew a shaky breath. “Scott's right, Alyx. There's no way you could do such a thing.”

Alyx jerked away. “I'd hurt him if he tried anything.” She lifted a credible fist into the air. “I know the most lethal moves. Joe taught me.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Scott turned his back on her and zipped the plastic bag shut.

Cyn laughed, and when everyone looked at her, she laughed again. “You really are as cocky as Joe, aren't you, Alyx?”

Given the look on her face, Alyx wasn't sure if she was being insulted or not. “No, of course not. Joe could take anybody. I know my limits. But I'm not afraid of this guy.”

Cyn never missed a beat. “Joe is not invincible, regardless of what he thinks or tells you or what you believe out of sisterly duty, and I'm not afraid of Palmer, either. Not anymore.”

Bruce had a bad feeling about her new attitude. “I'm sorry, but I like you better afraid. You're more reasonable.”

“Reason has nothing to do with it. I'm tired of hiding. It's past time I stood up to him.”

Bruce's temper almost snapped again. “You won't do a damn thing, Cyn. You'll leave it to me.”

Scott yelled, “No one is going to do anything. I'm the damn law and I will not have vigilantes running loose through Visitation with harebrained plans to catch a madman.”

Bruce subsided, even while knowing in his heart that he'd do whatever was necessary to keep Cyn out of Palmer's clutches.

Cyn glared at Bruce. “Dinner is ready.”

Scott stared at the heavens, but Alyx smiled. “Let's eat!”

 

It was late that night before Bruce spoke with Cyn again. She'd been avoiding him, closing herself in the bathroom for a long shower, going online to research the colleges listed in the brochure she got, and to find out where she could take her GED.

If he spoke to her, she answered him, but she was still mad. No two ways about it.

It was time for bed, and Bruce wanted her. But more than that, he knew he owed her a sincere apology. He found her sitting on the side of the bed, braiding her long hair. She performed the chore without effort, proving that she'd been doing so for years.

“I like your hair loose.”

She paused, glanced up at him, and then away.

“Tough.”

Bruce sat beside her. “We need to talk, Cyn.”

“Yeah? About what?”

And she'd accused Alyx of being cocky? He shook his head and gave in to the grin tugging at his mouth. “I want to apologize.”

Cyn fumed, then shoved him onto his back on the bed. She sat on his abdomen and grabbed his ears. “You can't mean it if you're laughing about it.”

In one quick flip, Bruce put her to her back. “I was ashamed.”

She quit fighting him and instead, grabbed his shirt and pulled his face closer to her own. “Because you were caught making out with me?”

He went right back to wanting to throttle her. “No. You're my wife. I can…
make out with you,
all I want.” He tried to figure out the best way to apologize, then he just spit it out. “I yelled at you.”

Cyn blinked. “That's it? You yelled?”

“At you.”

“Well, whoop-dee-do.” Her lack of concern was palpable. “I'm not made of glass. I won't break just because you prove you're human enough to get pissed.”

“It's more than that, and you know it. I shook you, and that's unforgivable. Never in my life have I manhandled a woman.”

She made a face of disgust. “Drop the drama, will you? You didn't hurt me. If you had, I would've decked you.”

Bruce closed his eyes. She was worse than Alyx. Worse than Joe, even. “Cyn, you scare me.” He opened his eyes and tried to make her understand. “Palmer wants to provoke you, to get to you so that you let down your guard. I can't let that happen. I
won't
let it happen.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me why.”

“Don't play games. You already know why. I'm your husband. I'm supposed to protect you, but I can't do that if you're determined to put yourself in harm's way.”

For some reason, she looked both sad and resigned. Then she relaxed beneath him. “You mean in Palmer's way, right?”

Bruce nodded. He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. “Promise me you won't do anything dangerous.”

Her fingers laced into his hair and gently stroked his scalp. “I promise.” Then her fingers tightened. “But I want the same assurance from you. Scott said he'd handle it, and I want to give him a chance.”

“If it's at all possible, I'll be happy to have Scott do the honors.” He kissed Cyn then, and luckily, she kissed him back instead of pressing him. Because if Scott wasn't around, Bruce would do whatever was needed.

 

Scott knocked on their kitchen door two days later. Cyn had passed her driver's test, but wasn't able to go anywhere on her own yet. By the day, she felt more imprisoned and strained. Bruce did his best to take her mind off Palmer, but the threat of him loomed over them at every turn.

“Has Alyx left again?” Bruce asked as Scott came in alone. Cyn poured coffee.

Scott shook his head. “She's having dinner with Joe and Luna.”

“Maybe she's planning to move here for good.”

He grabbed his heart. “Don't even think it. I get gray hairs every time that woman is around. If she visits much longer, I'll have to start dying my hair.”

Cyn put sugar and creamer on the table, but didn't sit. She couldn't join in the idle chitchat. Not once had Scott stopped in just to visit. “You have news.”

“That I do.” Scott removed his hat and took his seat.

Bruce leaned across the table. “You got Palmer's prints off the journal?”

“Nothing on that yet. But Detective Orsen called. They have Palmer Oaks.”

Cyn's mouth fell open. Thank God Bruce moved quickly, or she might have hit the floor. He caught her arm and slid a chair beneath her just as her legs gave out. “You're kidding?” Cyn asked, and her voice shook almost as badly as her hands.

“I'm serious as a heart attack. Palmer must have been close just long enough to mail the journal, because they caught him up north a good piece. He got drunk in a bar, made too much of a ruckus, and drew too much attention. A couple of uniformed cops got called and they arrested him.” Scott paused with a worried frown in Cyn's direction.

“Hey,” she said. “Don't hold back on my account.”

“You look a little dazed,” Scott admitted.

“Undiluted joy, that's all.” And disbelief. She'd never quite imagined it ending so easily.

“Right.” Scott grinned, sipped his coffee, and then continued. “Palmer not only broke parole, but a woman at the bar claims he tried to rape her in the parking lot, and she has witnesses.”

Cyn's stomach turned over. “Was the woman hurt?” She had to know.

“She's all right. A little banged up. More emotionally shook than anything. It took two other guys to pull him off her. At the very least, Palmer will have an assault charge from it. And on top of that, they found plenty of drugs on him. And are you ready for this? He was also carrying a big knife.”