All She Ever Wanted - Barbara Freethy [23]
Adrenaline surged through her body at the thought—the instincts for fight or flight battling with each other. She knew how to fight, but not who, so she would go with her second option—run. Grabbing her keys, she headed out the door and down the stairs. The cold morning air blasted her face as she hit the sidewalk. This was reality, she told herself, this moment, this street, this city, not the past she'd spent the night revisiting. She had to remember that. Glancing up at the sky, she realized the morning fog was beginning to break up, patches of blue sky and sunlight shining through the tree branches. She felt better already.
That feeling faded with the screeching of tires coming around the corner. Cole's car. Damn. She turned and started running in the opposite direction, hoping he wouldn't see her. The fact that he was here could mean only one thing—he'd read the book, too. God! What he must think of her now. His already bad opinion had probably sunk even lower.
"Natalie!" Cole shouted, his car slowing as he caught up with her.
She refused to turn her head and started to run faster.
"Natalie, stop."
She threw him a quick glance. "Go away."
"Not a chance," he replied, his car keeping pace with her. "I want to talk to you."
Well, she didn't want to talk to him, not now, not while she was feeling so raw and vulnerable. She didn't want to hear his accusations again, see the anger in his eyes, hear the agony in his voice or in her own. She needed time to rebuild her defenses, gather her ammunition, find a way to fight the questions she knew were coming. Turning the corner, she dashed through the alley that ran behind the row of houses and apartment buildings and turned up the speed.
She thought she'd lost him until he yelled again, this time from behind her. He must have ditched the car. She could hear his footsteps drawing closer.
"Natalie, stop, dammit."
Her legs were beginning to burn from the sprint, but she pressed on. She was a good athlete and she was used to running. Cole was even better. She could feel him bearing down on her. As she reached the end of the alley, she paused for a split second, debating which way to turn—toward the marina or Union Street. It was a mistake. His hand came down heavy on her shoulder.
She bounced free for a moment; then he caught her arm. She stumbled forward. Cole stopped her from falling by yanking her up hard against him. She would have preferred to hit the pavement face-first, because looking into his angry, bitter, betrayed eyes was even more painful.
For a long moment they both drew in ragged, angry breaths of air.
"Don't say it," she burst out, finally finding her voice.
He shook his head. "Did you do it? Did you push Emily off the roof? Were you fighting with her? Were you both so drunk that you didn't know how close you were to the edge? Is that what happened?" He gave her shoulders a shake.
"No," she cried. "No!"
"Then why did you run just now? Why is there a guilty look in your eyes?"
"That's not guilt. That's anger. I can't believe you of all people could even ask me those questions."
"That's not an answer. Only the guilty run away."
"I ran because I knew deep down that you would choose to believe a stranger rather than to believe me." She yanked her arm away from his grasp. "How could you, Cole? How could you think that I would hurt Emily? I loved her. She was my best friend." A stabbing pain ripped through her, and she felt her eyes fill with tears, but she blinked them away. She wouldn't cry now, not in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Cole stared at her through bloodshot eyes. He looked like hell; his hair was a mess, his face covered with stubble. He must have been up all night. She steeled herself not to care that he looked wiped out, that he was probably devastated by everything he'd read. That didn't give him the right to come after her.
"Dammit, Natalie," he said finally. "There was truth in that book. You know it as well as I do."
"And lies. I know that, too."
"Which is which?" He sent her