been an accident brought on by her gift. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d done everything in his power to maintain their friendship while at the same time trying to work his way back into her bed.
No, not her bed. Claire’s bed.
The betrayal cut deeply. Before this, Cass would have said that Dougie wasn’t capable of such deception. Now she felt as if she’d never really known who he was. He’d taken that away, too.
Refusing to cry, as it served little purpose and tended to give her a headache when it was all over, Cass closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.
Malcolm situated himself behind the wheel and moved the SAAB out into traffic. Cass tried not to dwell on why she was letting him shuffle her around like a rag doll he’d picked up off the street when she’d been stubborn about letting Dougie pick up her half of the check.
He hadn’t answered what he was doing there, and the idea that it could have been a coincidence seemed too far-fetched. But she had no energy left in her to ask. Beyond the pain that was sapping her strength was the cold- blooded fear.
What the hell was happening to her?
The luxury vehicle moved with precision through the narrow, car-lined streets, and, before Cass had a chance to look up, she felt him once again parallel parking the car with a skill she couldn’t help but admire.
They’d stopped. Cass figured that was her cue to get out, but she was overcome by a sense of inertia. Her legs felt weighted and her arms were numb.
Next to her, Malcolm said nothing but instead got out of the car and came around to her side.
The heavy sweater she’d worn to meet Dougie downtown was now soaked and plastered against a too-thin chemise, which was also wet and stuck to her body. The cold penetrated to her bones. Involuntarily, she shivered.
“Do I need to carry you?”
She turned her head and saw that he was leaning over her, his face close to hers. His eyes assessing her condition. He didn’t force her to answer quickly, nor did he immediately take the decision out of her hands as Dougie might have done. She appreciated that. However, since the choice was hers, she naturally had to make the tough call. For that she cursed him.
“I can do it. Back off.”
He moved away to give her some space and watched her carefully while she used the car door and frame to help lift herself out. Her ribs hurt, throbbed, really, and she had trouble taking a deep breath. But she made it up and onto her feet. When she buckled slightly, he was there with an arm for her to lean on.
“Keys.”
This time he didn’t ask but rather held out his hand, expecting he would get them. She decided the points he earned by not hauling her out of the car instantly were lost. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in a place to argue.
Cass fished inside her jeans pocket for the key ring that held only a few keys. None of which were for her bike. It had a starter button on it. Her bike. The thing she would need to get to her new job every day. Once she found one. She’d just left it out there on the street.
“I need to go back and get my bike.”
“I told you I would have it taken care of.”
She handed him the keys and thought about why she should believe him, but she didn’t really see that she had a choice. She was in no shape to put up another fight tonight. First Dougie, then that thing.
Not that she’d actually put up a fight against either of them. She ran from Dougie, and the monster…well, she’d gotten creamed. In addition to everything else that needed to be considered, she was going to have to add that one to the list. She was a poor excuse for a fighter.
He unlocked the door, pushed it open, then stepped back so she could enter first. Typical of his manners. Cass moved past him and went inside and reached out to hit the switch that would illuminate the kitchen. Before the light went on, she saw the red button blinking on her phone, letting her know she had a message waiting.
Maybe Kevin had called back to say he’d changed his mind. The coffeehouse was pretty shy on staff now that so many had gone back to college. Yeah, right. Like the light was going to be good news, given her recent track record. Cass decided to ignore it. She moved gingerly, shuffling to where her bright red futon waited for her. Cautiously, she settled into the cushion.
It was okay, she thought. She was safe now. The beast was gone. She was home. There was blessed silence in her head.
“You need to get out of that sweater.”
Just not blessed silence in her living room. How could she have forgotten he was there? He needed to go. She couldn’t handle a visit from Lauren in her current shape, and the longer he stayed, the more likely it would become.
“Look, I appreciate what you did, but I’m sort of wiped so…”
Dismissing her obvious brush-off, he shut the door behind him and leaned against the island that bordered her living room, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression pensive.
“I pulled you out of the way before a car could hit you. Some might call that saving your life.”
Apparently he wasn’t the type to do that without wanting something for it. Funny. She didn’t expect that of him. Then again what the hell did she know about anything? Just one more by-product of the Doug Brody Betrayal.
“What do you want?”
“For now I want you to take off your sweater. It appears to be wool, and it’s soaking wet. You’ll be freezing in a few minutes if you don’t get it off.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“Not really.” He moved closer and before she realized what was happening he was leaning over her and tugging at the bottom of the wet wool sweater.
“Stop it,” she hissed.
“Lift your arms,” he instructed firmly.
Her aggravation was extreme. She had no power to make him go away and she knew it. Still, she couldn’t stop trying. “How dare you give me orders in my home? Leave. Now.” She injected into her voice what she hoped was a note of imperiousness that someone of his ilk might respond to.
“No. Lift your arms.”
Okay, so her imperious tone needed work.
Finally, like the child she felt like, Cass obeyed and he pulled the sweater off. However, with it came the white chemise she’d worn underneath the garment to protect her from the scratchy fabric, leaving her in nothing but a simple pink cotton bra. Her nipples, she knew, were hard and pronounced.
She heard his reaction rather than saw it because her head was still stuck in the neck of the sweater.
“What the hell…”
Not exactly the same reaction Dougie’d had when he’d seen her nipples for the first time. Cass felt the sudden release of the fabric as he yanked it over her head and then saw that his attention wasn’t on her breasts but on the side of her body where the monster had struck.
Of course it hadn’t actually hit her. It had been simply a mental projection that had resulted in a physical manifestation. Like the way she would form a bruise after making contact with the dead. This, however, was a pretty big bruise. Cautiously, she brushed the area with her fingertips. No, this was no bruise. This would have to be classified as a welt.
“Who did this to you?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest to conceal the pink bra she wore, as well as her extended nipples.
Obviously unaffected by her pert breasts, Malcolm’s finger gently traced the red mark that ran along her right rib cage.
“Is it the cop?” he asked, his voice soft but tight. “I saw him with you at the restaurant, but you left separately. Are you dating him? Do you let him do this to you?”
That was so typical. As if she would ever let someone do this to her. “You think Dougie beats me?”
He lifted his hand and brushed back a lock of her bangs, studying the same eye he had squinted at before under the streetlamp. “This, too. The car didn’t do this to you. You weren’t even hit.”
