Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [84]
“No. But I dreamed about it. I was in love, chica, desperately, passionately in love as only a teenage boy can feel it. I wanted to slay dragons for you, to fight anyone who dared to hurt you. In particular your father. Unfortunately I was badly outmatched back then.”
“And now? Can you save me from him now?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Yes,” he said. “But I think you need to save yourself.”
“And what if I’m not strong enough to? What if he wins? What makes you think I’m not more helpless than I was fifteen years ago?”
“You were never helpless, Rachel-Ann. He just made you believe that. It wasn’t your weakness that got you into trouble, but your strength.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He kissed her nose. “I know you don’t, mi alma. And I can’t convince you. You’ll have to find it out for yourself.”
She just looked at him, trying to find defenses against what she was feeling. The soft, melting need that was unlike anything she’d felt before. She knew what needs sent her to men, and it was a far cry from what she needed from Rico.
“Can I come here again?”
“Of course. I gave you the key, remember?” he said gently.
“Can I live here, with you?”
“Yes.” He didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate.
“Will you make me go to AA meetings?”
He shook his head. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t choose to do, Rachel-Ann. If you like, I won’t even mention the word meetings to you again. It’s up to you to ask.”
“It’s not the answer for me,” she said, needing to convince him. “I know you can’t accept that, but it doesn’t work for everyone.”
“I can accept anything you want to tell me,” he said calmly. “But I can’t give you the answers—you’re going to have to figure them out for yourself.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m so frightened of.”
“Maybe it is, mi amor. Maybe it is.”
La Casa de Sombras lived up to its name when Coltrane drove up the winding driveway. Shadows everywhere in the moonlit night, and not a sign of life.
The massive Mercedes G-Wagen was gone, and so was Dean’s Lexus. Rachel-Ann’s sedan was still there, abandoned along with the ancient vehicle in the far bay. No sign of his Range Rover, which he accepted with equanimity. He was more interested in the Corvette, anyway.
He could only hope Rachel-Ann had found somewhere safe to run to. She’d sat at the table tonight like a meek fawn caught in the headlights of an oncoming tank, frozen, unable to move, with no idea of the disaster bearing down on her. She didn’t know the extent of just how wrong Meyer’s obsession with her was, even though she clearly had some inkling.
He’d wanted to kill him. It had been that simple, that direct, shockingly so. Coltrane always thought of himself as a man who used brains and trickery to get what he wanted. He’d never wanted the catharsis of physical violence before, not as much as he’d wanted it tonight.
And the damnable thing was, it had started earlier. Started when Meyer had first walked into the room and done his best to demoralize Jilly. It hadn’t worked. Obdurate, that’s what she was. Unflinching in the face of her father’s bullying, unmoved by his malice. Clearly she’d let go of him a long time ago, and he no longer had the power to hurt her.
But Rachel-Ann hadn’t let go. She sat on the sofa, shrinking into herself as Meyer clutched her knee like a ham-handed pervert, and she hadn’t made a sound. And Coltrane had wanted to kill him.
He’d never had the slightest suspicion that Meyer’s obsession went so deep with Rachel-Ann. He wasn’t sure what he would have done about it if he had known—his reaction would have been violent no matter what the circumstances.
He pulled into one of the empty bays, parked the car and turned to look at Jilly. She’d fallen asleep—the pain pills they’d given her must have taken effect. He stared at her for a moment, taking a good long look at her.
She wasn’t particularly beautiful, he supposed. Not stunning like some of the women he’d bedded. She wasn’t particularly charming—she’d given him nothing but shit since the moment they met. Maybe that was part of her charm.
Because he was charmed