No, that wasn’t what she remembered.
He’d told her last night they had things to clear up, and that was far different.
“I’m finished with the little tramp—”
Before Cami could process the fact that Rafe had moved, he had done just that.
His hand was wrapped around Mark’s throat, holding him pinned to the wall he had thrown him into.
“Leave,” Rafe said softly.
Anything else he said Cami missed while waiting for her brain to kick into gear once again.
She rushed to the two men, and her fingers curled around the arm that bulged with strength as he drew on that power to keep his fingers wrapped around Mark’s throat.
“That’s enough,” she said softly. “I really don’t want to have to deal with Archer later, Rafe. And you know Mark; he would definitely file a complaint if you leave so much as a single bruise.”
“Oh, he won’t be bruised,” Rafe promised her, though he released Mark slowly. “But I bet you he remembers how little I like hearing that trash rolling out of his mouth to you.”
“And I’m sure he really won’t care once he gets away from you,” she told him before turning her gaze back to the man who had thought he could destroy her.
“Who was my father?” she asked Mark.
“Dead.” He seemed to relish the word. “The bastard was some cop in Denver when she left me one summer. She never made that mistake again. Again,” he reminded Cami.
“Did you kill him?”
Mark chuckled at the question. “I only wish I’d had the chance. A drug dealer and his tramp did that for me when he thought he could poke his nose in their business. His stupidity got him killed.”
If Mark could have set it up, then he would have, Cami thought.
She could see it in his eyes, in the hatred and regret that filled his expression.
“I’m going to shower and dress,” she only partially lied. She’d showered the night before; she only intended to dress and face whatever issues Rafe thought they should iron out. Or clear up. He’d said they had things to clear up, and she had a feeling she knew exactly what a few of those things were. The fact that she’d kept secrets from him, that she hadn’t contacted him when she needed him.
Turning her back on Mark, she moved to the dresser, collected her clothing, then moved into the bathroom.
Whatever Mark had thought he would accomplish by attempting to ambush her, he hadn’t quite managed it. Had it been ten years before, even five, then he could have shattered her with that knowledge.
Perhaps a part of her had already accepted, over the years, that no father could be as cruel as he had been over the years. He hadn’t laid a hand on her, but there were times that words could hurt much worse than a fist.
Moving into the bathroom, she wondered at how easily Mark had slipped in, though. He’d obviously been watching her, waiting, stalking her.
At this point, she didn’t give a damn what Rafe said to Mark. She was beginning to wonder if she would even care what Rafe did to him. Mark had made her mother’s life hell, and Cami knew it. A part of her acknowledged that he was the reason her mother had turned to the Valium and the wine. He was the reason she had closed herself off, even from the child she’d conceived, likely with a man who had loved her.
Cami dressed quickly, unwilling to leave Rafe with Mark long enough to actually hurt him. But when she stepped out into the bedroom, it was to find Rafe sitting in the large easy chair, lounging back, as he waited patiently for her.
His expression was slightly mocking, knowing.
“You know, he didn’t come through the front door,” Rafe told her. “There are several webcams scattered through the house now. He came through the basement window, just as your attacker did.”
Cami paused and stared back at Rafe, confused at the statement.
“But you secured that window.” And she knew he and his cousins would have done the job right.
“Yes, we did,” he agreed. “And from what I saw on the camera, he’s damned good at picking a lock, Cami.”
She rubbed at her temple, uncertain what to make of that. “He wasn’t the one that attacked me.”
If he had been, then that meant he had also been the one behind Jaymi’s death.
Cami shook her head. “He would have never hurt Jaymi. Whoever tried to hurt me was behind Thomas Jones attacking her as well. Mark was devoted to her.”
“But she was sleeping with me,” Rafe pointed out.
Cami shook her head again. “He truly loved her, Rafe. He loved her, and he loved Mother, despite any infidelity she may have committed. It was me he hated. It was me he made pay for it; that way he could could forgive her.”
And Cami believed that to the bottom of her soul. “Mark’s world began and ended with Mother and Jaymi. Losing a part of that world was more than he could bear.”
Rafe watched her for long, considering moments. “Pack up.” He surprised her with the command. “We’ll move to the ranch until this is resolved.”
“And what will that solve?” She breathed out with an edge of weariness. “Running won’t make him move any faster; it will only delay the inevitable. And I’m not running. Not yet.”
She hadn’t run from her problems since she was a child. “That was one of the few lessons Mark has taught me. Running shows weakness and fear. I’m not ready to give that impression quite yet.”
“You’re being too damned stubborn,” Rafe muttered as he came out of the chair and stalked over to her. “Should I have that put on your gravestone? ‘She Died Stubborn.’”
Her lips almost twitched. “Look at it this way,” she suggested. “I may die stubborn, but I intend to make certain that he knows he didn’t get the best of me in any other way. He’ll know he failed.”
“And that’s so important to you?” Rafe asked incredulously.
“Important?” she whispered. “Not so much important, Rafe, as all I have left. Through the years it’s all I’ve had, Rafe; Mark took everything else. And what he didn’t take Thomas Jones did when he killed Jaymi. Besides, what will leaving accomplish?”
“I know my home turf. I can protect it,” Rafe answered her instantly.
“And he doesn’t. Whoever attacked me won’t come after me there. He’ll just wait, and he’ll watch, and the Callahan cousins will have to blink eventually.”
“If I lost you, Cami, it would destroy me.”
She blinked back at him.
He said it so seriously, as though the words were torn from a place so deep inside himself that he wasn’t certain where they came from either.
Cami swallowed tightly. “What do you want me to say?” She was suddenly terrified. Terrified of herself and the emotions she suddenly felt being torn from deep inside her.
She’d kept parts of her locked down for as long as she could remember, definitely since she had lost their child. But even before that, there were hopes, dreams, needs, and desires that she’d refused to allow herself.
“You seem so surprised,” he murmured as he stopped in front of her. “Why do you think I arranged to meet you in Denver all those years ago? Why do you think I tried so hard to give you the time you needed to make that first move, to come to me, to be sure you wanted me, Cami? To be sure you’d tasted freedom and were ready to accept everything I felt for you? Everything I need to be with you?”
She shook her head, staring up at him, at the blaze of emotion in his eyes, at the truth of everything he was saying.
“We can talk about this later,” she forced the words past her lips.
“Because you’re terrified to hear the words? Tell me, kitten.” His hands cupped her cheeks, forced her to keep her gaze locked with his. “Has anyone ever told you they loved you?”
Had they?
She’d known Jaymi had loved her, but had she ever said the words?
She hadn’t, Cami realized.
“Mother,” she whispered.
