clothing wasn’t her forte. Finding scum, deadbeat dads, runaways, that was what she did.
But why was she . . .
Behind her, a door opened and she turned, staring at the woman with wide eyes.
“Amelie, you’re not even dressed.”
“Mama . . .”
Mama?
“Darling, you must get dressed. We’re off to the picnic today, you know. You’ll be seeing Richard before he leaves on his trip. He expects an answer . . .” The woman paused, her eyes, pale green, hesitant. “Have you decided?”
“Richard.” She closed her eyes and turned away. Who was . . .
Marrying Richard—
Cold, lifeless eyes.
Patrick’s eyes.
Richard. Hard, cruel hands.
Another pair of eyes flashed through her mind. You’ll come away with me, won’t you, Amelie?
Dark, dark eyes . . . a weathered, laughing face.
And hands that touched her so gently.
Don’t let him take you away . . .
* * *
JERKING upright in her bed, Dru caught her breath.
She was on the floor.
Still wearing her dress, although it was rucked up over her thighs.
If I ever knew you, I’d remember.
“Not if you weren’t supposed to . . . He hit you before . . . and he killed me. After that, I don’t know what became of you. But I think you do. If you’ll let yourself remember . . .
Let yourself remember . . .
“Richard,” she breathed out. “Patrick . . .”
But those weren’t the names that mattered the most.
Whether his name was Mike Sellers now, or Joss whatever, once he’d been called Thom. Thom Brady. And she’d watched as Richard shot him. Watched as he died. Watched as Richard threw the man she loved into the lake. Nobody will miss him, you know. Now come along. We have a wedding to plan.
I will not marry you.
Oh, but you will. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the sheriff I saw your father shoot that man.
They’ll never believe you . . .
Yes, they will. He threatened Brady to stay away from you before, didn’t he? Your father is already teetering on ruin. You can marry me . . . and save him, your family. Or refuse . . . and I’ll ruin all of you.
Dru shivered, rolling to a sitting position with her back braced against the bed. I get what I want, Amelie. You should remember that.
Bile churned in her throat as she rested her head back against the bed.
“I do believe I’ve gone rather mad.”
* * *
“YOU’RE not doing well.”
Taylor sat across from him at a crowded Starbucks. It was a little too noisy for the two of them, but they couldn’t keep meeting at the same restaurant. Stupid doing it more than twice.
And Joss could use about fifty espressos, give or take. He was on his second. It hadn’t touched the fatigue. Not doing well. You think?
He’d done something that had left him ill. He had left her there. Yeah, it was her choice, but he’d left her there. With that monster. She was safe . . . for now. Safe enough, was the knowledge as it had come to him, and that made him puke his guts up once he’d gotten far enough away from the estate.
He’d stood there, shaking, sick with fury . . . and a clear burning knowledge in his mind.
Yes, Dru knew what Whitmore was doing.
And she was trapped. He didn’t want to know why or how she was in those circumstances, but somehow she felt trapped. He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her, though. People who danced with the devil ended up in bad situations, and that was what had happened here.
Still, leaving her there, trapped, had left him ill. He could have gone up those stairs, found Dru. Saved her. And others would have died. The women he was trying to save. He could hear their screams, even thinking about it . . . screams that haunted him.
Walking away, leaving Dru in Patrick’s hands, was another thing that would haunt him. But with that clear, burning knowledge, he knew she’d live through this. Patrick didn’t want her dead. That gift that was trying to drive Joss crazy showed him that she’d live through this.
Of course, when it was said and done, he didn’t know how he would live with himself. The woman he’d lived his whole life waiting for . . . and she was living with a man like Whitmore.
Too aware of Jones’s intense gaze, he focused on his coffee. “Quit staring at me, damn it. I’m not a bug on a slide. My head is a mess, but