Part 23 (1/2)

I stand at the window and watch the rain sheeting down the gla.s.s. Jumping at every clap of thunder, I hug myself and turn away, but the violence occurring outside calls to me. I cover my ears, but it only m.u.f.fles the sound of the storm. I would like to run, to crawl under the bed as I did as a child. But I'm not a child-I'm a man. My hands drop and my lips twist in a bitter smile.

Take it like a man-isn't that what I've always been told? Childish tears will not be tolerated. And if I fail? If I can't control my emotions-punishment will follow. Isolation. Darkness. The cold and damp pressing down on me as I curl into a small ball and pray for rescue.

But there is no rescue. No one hears my pitiful cries for help.

My back is to the window, my gaze traveling around the room. Such a fine, upstanding family everyone says, but they don't know the secrets behind the facade. The violence hidden under the surface-more frightening than any storm nature could manufacture.

I was only six when it happened the first time. Shaking my head, I can't even remember what caused the incident. A broken toy? A temper tantrum over not being allowed another cookie? ”Stop it, stop it,” he screamed into my tearstained face. ”Real men don't cry,” he admonished.

And her? She stood by and watched him grab my thin arm and march me out the door. He pulled me toward the black, gaping gash in the side of the hill. In my innocence, I had no idea what was to follow. I'd witnessed his anger focused on her, but he had never directed it at me. I had no thought that the man who was supposed to protect me would throw me in that dark hole then leave me. How long had I lain there? Minutes? Hours? Whimpering in terror until finally he brought me out into the light, my soul forever marked.

With trembling hands, I pour a drink. I don't even care that it's the cheap stuff. Downing it in one gulp, I slam the gla.s.s on the counter and, bowing my head, try to banish my dark thoughts.

My attention steals to the window. It had been a night like this, hadn't it? My last visit to my own personal h.e.l.l. All I'd asked for was understanding and a little kindness. Wasn't that my right? Didn't I deserve it? My hands tighten into fists. Didn't she owe me?

But she'd mocked me, questioned my manhood, used the same words he'd used. As I look back, it all seems like a bad dream now. Stumbling up the hill on the rain-slick slope.

I stagger over to the window and press my palm against the cool gla.s.s. As I stare across the dark water, the tears begin to gather. It's so unfair-this dream that haunts me. Is there no escape? I wipe my eyes. Samantha was to be my ticket to freedom. I would have used her and her father to achieve the life I deserve. Lawrence Moore's patronage and all that money would've made the difference. Old scars and wounds would've been forgotten and forgiven.

But now? I feel it slipping away.

”No!” I cry above the thunder. Squaring my shoulders, I slap my hand against the window. I'm a man. A man meets his challenges head-on. A man strikes at the heart of his enemies and takes that which they value most. Divide and conquer.

I smile. No. I haven't lost yet.

I stare out the window and plan-my mind spinning ways that I can salvage the situation while in the distance a light bobs through the storm.

Chapter Twenty-three.

Tears streamed down Sam's face, indistinguishable from the raindrops pouring all around her. Above her, bolts of lightning crisscrossed the sky, while thunder pounded. In the distance, over the thunder, she heard the wind whipping the waves against the rocks lining the sh.o.r.e. What kind of man would send a defenseless animal out in a storm like this? She swiped a wet sleeve against her dripping nose. Not one she'd want to spend the rest of her life with, that's for sure. A lie-it had all been a lie. The person she thought she knew so well had been false, nothing more than a front.

Don't think about it now, she chided herself. Find Roxy.

Her flashlight beam bounced through the trees as she desperately called out the dog's name. Would Roxy hear her over the thunder? She prayed she would. The thought of losing her tightened Sam's throat and caused fresh tears to run down her cheeks. Thankfully, in her frantic search, she forgot to be afraid.

She'd pa.s.sed Greg's place and made it to the end of the road before she stopped. Ahead of her nothing but the churning water of the lake. Her shoulders drooped and her hand holding the flashlight sagged. It was no use. Roxy was nowhere to be found. Her only hope was that the dog could find her way home on her own. Discouraged, Sam turned and began to slog her way through the mud, back to the cabin. She'd never forgive Jackson for this, she thought, anger stiffening her spine. He'd better be gone when she arrived.

She was halfway there, when a hand on her shoulders spun her around as the smell of liquor hit her. Jackson. She raised her flashlight in defense and the hand dropped away. s.h.i.+ning the light upward, she was astonished to see Greg standing in front of her.

”Hey,” he said, raising his hands to s.h.i.+eld his eyes. ”You don't need to blind me.”

”Sorry.” Sam lowered the light. ”What are you doing out here?”

”I might ask the same of you, but I already know.” Taking her arm, he started to lead her back toward his cabin. ”I saw your flashlight from my window and figured you were out looking for your dog.” He paused. ”She's at my house.”

Sam halted, the soles of her tennis shoes skidding in the mud. ”Roxy? You found Roxy?”

Greg chuckled. ”More like she found me. I was enjoying a hot toddy when I heard her over the storm, scratching at the front door.” His voice lost its humor. ”What happened? You didn't put her out in this, did you?”

”Of course not,” Sam replied, not keeping the anger out of her voice. ”Jackson did.”

”Ah.” He paused. ”You know, Sam, since Jackson feels so strongly about her, maybe it would be better if I kept her.”

”No!” Sam cried, pus.h.i.+ng the wet hair back from her face. ”You can't take her back. I won't let you.”

Greg held up a hand. ”Easy now. It's only a suggestion. I simply think that with Jackson-”

She spun toward him, cutting him off. ”Jackson is gone.”

”For now, but what about when you move-” He stopped when Sam wiggled her left hand in front of his nose.

”I mean gone as in permanently,” she insisted.

”You broke up with him over Roxy?”

Sam shook her head. ”What he did was mean and dirty, but there's more to it than that.” She hesitated, thinking back over the relations.h.i.+p. ”Jackson changed after I was attacked, or maybe it was that I changed. I don't know, but I wasn't the same person he'd asked to marry him.” She looked down at her weak leg. ”I'm not a trophy he can parade on his arm any longer.”

”A trophy? You're more than just a beautiful woman.”

A beautiful woman-she hadn't been called that since her attack, and her cheeks grew warm with pleasure. But before she could thank Greg for the compliment, a crack of lightning flashed overhead.

Taking her arm, Greg started toward his cabin. ”Come on, let's get out of the rain.”

She allowed him to guide her up the steps, and they both stopped on the porch, watching the storm roll around them. Sam let the silence lengthen.

Finally she glanced over at him and smiled. ”I've learned something over the past few days-I don't want to be a princess and I don't want to be a trophy.”

Greg stepped forward and braced his hands on the porch railing. ”Life has a way of changing on us, doesn't it?” he asked, and Sam heard the sadness in his voice.

”It changed on you, didn't it? Anne told me you were once a veterinarian.”

”That,” he said, the single word speaking volumes.

”What happened?”

He jerked his shoulders. ”An old story-young man falls for a gorgeous woman, only to find said woman is more interested in the money than the man. She took me for everything I had.” He laughed caustically. ”Last I heard-she and her boyfriend were living quite well.”

”Why haven't you opened a practice up here?”

He turned and leaned against the rail, the rain running off the porch roof and forming a curtain behind him. ”I discovered it's more rewarding to give animals a second chance at a home than to treat some rich woman's pampered pet.” His eyes strayed beyond her to his small cabin. ”I also learned I really don't need much-a warm place to live; food on the table; my saxophone; and my dogs.” He clicked his tongue. ”Life's good.”

”You didn't mention a woman on that list.”

His eyebrows shot up. ”Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed. ”Once bitten, twice shy.”

”So you've given up?”