The Past Between Us

He managed to secure both her hands but it wasn’t easy. The woman had skills. Both of them were breathing hard, which made her breasts push against his chest and he could feel the soft caress of her breath against his face. She smelled of cinnamon candy and some kind of herbal lotion or oil that you might find in a specialty store. It wasn’t patchouli—that stuff made him sneeze—but it was something that someone might enjoy as an incense. Whatever it was, the scent called up images of warm bodies sliding against one another in a darkened room, urgent whispers and hands caressing. Hell, did she douse herself in some kind of aphrodisiac? He blinked hard against the images his mind happily threw at him in concert with the aroma assault and he tightened his grip on her hands until she couldn’t do much more than twist beneath him. He stared down into a pair of deadly calculating eyes that radiated anger and retribution and he knew if she had half a chance she’d brain him and be on her merry way.

“You’re coming with me,” he said from between gritted teeth, his breathing labored for more reasons than the physical exertion. He was horrified to admit he was aroused. He could only hope she didn’t realize that the bulge pressing against her wasn’t only the ridge from his jeans.

Chest heaving as she caught her breath, she gave him a mocking glare as she pointed out one crucial detail. “The minute you let go of my hands I’m going to get free. You have the advantage right now only because you’re holding my hands. You can’t stay this way forever.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t make this worse on yourself. You’re already in a heap of trouble. The ride is over.”

“You don’t know anything about what’s going on. All you know is what he’s told everyone.”

He shouldn’t ask but he did anyway. “He who?”

“Lionel Vissher. My stepfather.”

“What’s he got to do with the people you’ve swindled out of thousands of dollars?”

“I haven’t swindled anyone,” she shot back and he could only stare. The last time he checked, stealing people’s identity and then their cash was indeed swindling. But whatever word she used to describe it…it was still illegal. And she was guilty. “I borrowed a little to survive. I plan to pay them back.”

“Sure you do.”

Her lips tightened and he found it vaguely ironic that she was offended by his disbelief. “I have every name of every person I ever borrowed from and I will pay them back as soon as I get Lionel out of my family’s bank account.”

“So these past two years you’ve been running from the law, you’ve actually been hunting down information on your stepfather?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, a flare of hope in her voice. “That’s exactly it. I never actually hurt anyone, I mean I know I deceived a few people but harmlessly so. When I pay them back everything will be fine. But if you take me in, I’ll never get to clear my name and worse, that snake will continue to live in my family’s home sucking up the fortune my father helped build.” His brow furrowed and she recognized that look from years ago. She continued quickly. “Think about it, Tommy. Would I do the things they say I’ve done without a good reason? Why would I? I had plenty of money. I didn’t need to steal, not until Lionel came into my life. If you knew what he was really like, you’d be arresting him instead of me.” Her hands were slowly losing feeling. She wiggled against him and peered up at him with what she hoped was an expression of vulnerability as she pleaded in a small voice. “Please let me go…you’re hurting me, Tommy.”

He paused and a myriad of emotions crossed his face. She’d forgotten how handsome he was. He’d epitomized the strong silent type when they were growing up. He’d always been a great listener, even when all she did was complain about problems that in the big scheme of things didn’t matter at all. If only she’d realized that then. Now it was too late.

His gaze searched her face and she could almost hope that his silence was evidence of his uncertainty, but she should’ve known that such a possibility was small for a man like Thomas Bristol. He was a stickler for the rules—which had made a career in law enforcement such a no-brainer. His mouth tightened and his gaze hardened as he told her what was going to happen next. “I’m going to let your hands go and you’re going to come quietly.”

No way in hell. “Try it and see.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. Just do yourself a favor and don’t fight me.”

Was that the tiniest plea couched in that harsh tone? She could only wonder. “Let me go and we won’t have to fight.”

“You know that’s not possible.”

“I don’t know any such thing. You could walk away, pretend you never found me.”

“That’s not who I am and I’m not about to change so you can continue using people for your own gain. According to your file, you’re a thief and a liar and your free ride stops here.”

She scowled. “That’s an inflammatory statement, don’t you think? And quite possibly slanderous. Watch yourself, Tommy. Perhaps I’ll sue.”

His mouth twisted. “Oh, really? I’d like to see you try.”

“Get off me, you brute. It’s not like you’re a lightweight. Perhaps not so many doughnuts and a little more roughage in your diet would help drop some of those pounds,” she taunted him, enjoying the flare of anger that followed. It was complete crap, of course. He was built like a Greek god and if she were in a different position, she certainly wouldn’t complain about his body on top of hers but that wasn’t her reality so the lug needed to get the hell off and quick. If insulting him got the job done she was more than willing to do it. “Oh, man, I can’t breathe.” She twisted a little beneath him. “Seriously, you’re hurting me. I promise I won’t do anything, just get off. Okay?”

“Promise?” He eyed her with suspicion.

“My hands are going numb and my ribs are cracking,” she said in answer, shifting again under his weight.

“You’re the one who put us in this position,” he reminded her, but oddly, he didn’t move. She inhaled the sharp scent of his skin and when images from the past assaulted her, she kicked them away. She’d never slept with him—a blessing, perhaps, though definitely a serious regret—but they had shared one helluva kiss on her seventeenth birthday. Was he remembering that sizzling moment, as well? Doubtful. The fact that she was suddenly reminded of that moment discomfited her.

“Tommy, I mean it,” she said, snapping him out of whatever he was thinking. He shifted slowly, watching her closely. Guess he didn’t trust her much after she rattled his teeth. She wouldn’t, either, if the roles were reversed. She drew a deep breath, wincing as her ribs complained, then as he let her hands go she shook some circulation back into them before scrambling to her feet.

“Cassi,” he warned, advancing toward her as she backed away, her thoughts moving quickly to the best possible escape plan. “There’s nowhere for you to go. Think this through. You won’t get far.”

He underestimated her need to escape. She shrugged, appearing flippant but in truth she was stalling, waiting for the strength to return to her limbs. She was starting to think that’s why he stayed on top of her, to weaken her. Well, if it was, it’d worked and it also destroyed her hope that he’d stayed put simply because he liked being there. Ouch. There’s a blow to the ol’ ego. She flexed her fingers and gave him a hard look of her own. “Sorry, Tommy. I can’t. There’s no way I can make you understand and that’s a tragedy but I’m not going anywhere with you. That man killed my mother and I’m going to prove it somehow. It’s the only chance I have of making things right, so if you want to take me in you’ll have to kill me first.”

CHAPTER THREE

SHE MOVED QUICKLY BUT Thomas had anticipated her move and dodged with her. Just as his fingers grabbed for her arm, she spun out of his reach. She was making her way to the door. He knew if she made it past that threshold she’d disappear and it would take months to track her down again. That wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t have time to zap her with a Taser, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to shoot her—though another agent might’ve, seeing as she’d already committed an assault against an officer—so he went old school.

This time when he tackled her to the ground, he didn’t waste time trying to subdue her. She kicked and bucked but he reared back and cut a clean right hook across her jaw.

She stilled and went limp beneath him. Thomas exhaled loudly, wishing to hell he hadn’t had to do that, but he figured it was the lesser of two evils at that moment.

“Damn it, Cassi,” he muttered sharply, feeling like shit. It went against his personal beliefs—men who hit women were scum—but she’d given him no choice. Still, even knowing this, it didn’t lessen the feeling he’d just crossed a line. A good agent didn’t let the past affect his actions. If he’d hesitated, she would’ve gotten away and he would have had to explain why to his superiors.

Pulling his handcuffs, he made short work of securing her. He climbed to his feet and took a quick look around the cramped apartment. Ugly was the appropriate word for it, he thought as he made a short circuit. Peeling yellowed wallpaper covered the walls, and brown, matted carpet covered the floor. He doubted anything in this place belonged to Cassi. From what he remembered, thrift store garbage wasn’t exactly her decorating style, which told him she’d rented the apartment furnished. There was nothing personal in this space, nothing that would suggest she actually lived there. She had the essentials but nothing else. The occupant of this house lived a transient existence. Here today, gone tomorrow, which fit Cassi’s M.O. Still, he opened a few drawers and rifled through the contents. A grim part of him was hoping to find evidence of drugs because maybe he could understand why she’d turned so bad if he found she suffered an addiction. But when his search came up empty, he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved, too.

No pictures, no personal effects. What a lonely life, he reflected for a minute before returning to where Cassi lay unconscious. He’d lied. He’d wanted to know her story, her reasons, but he’d be damned if he let himself slide down that slippery slope. He didn’t cause her to make her bad choices. He had to keep sight of that before he went and did something foolish, like trust her to tell him the truth and then fall hook, line and sinker for her lies.

Thomas hoisted her onto his shoulder, grunting under the weight and taking care not to notice the plump, round curves of her ass right at his face. There were a million different reasons why he shouldn’t be attracted to her, but his hand itched to touch her and it only served to sour his mood further.

Why Cassi? Of all the women in the world…why her? There were too many memories, too many unresolved feelings, just flat out, too much of everything. He’d been a fool to take this case but what was done was done. He’d see it through, no matter what. And he absolutely would not give in to the strange and inappropriate urge to give that firm ass a nice squeeze.

He passed a neighbor or two but didn’t stop to explain why he was carting away an unconscious woman on his shoulder, nor did he flash his badge. Funny, no one asked any questions. That said a lot about the neighborhood she was living in. Definitely a far cry from the digs she was accustomed to, that was for sure.

Cassi had lived in the rich part of town where they grew up in Bridgeport, West Virginia. Her house had been the most lavish, ridiculous piece of masonry Thomas had ever seen. Cassi came from old money and she’d enjoyed all that it had afforded from top-shelf education to high-society circles. Hell, she’d even had a coming-out party when she’d turned sixteen just like they did in the Old South. His upbringing hadn’t been so privileged. Until he’d been put in Mama Jo’s care, his home life had been hell. He didn’t like to spend much time remembering those days. And there was no reason for him to, either, but a memory floated unbidden from his past. Odd, given the circumstances, but it flashed real and tangible before he could stop it.

“You like her,” a young Christian had said, his voice wise for a twelve-year-old kid who still slept with a ratty teddy bear that smelled so bad it probably scared away vermin. Owen glanced up from whittling on his ash twig, interest in his eyes at their brother’s sudden proclamation. “So why don’t you just ask her out or something?”

Thomas’s face had colored. “I don’t like her,” he protested. “We’re just friends. Nothing wrong with that.”

They were down by Flaherty’s Creek behind Mama Jo’s house “stayin’ out of mischief” as per Mama’s instruction.

“It’s s’ okay, you know,” Christian said, skipping a rock across the water, listening as it splashed to the other side. “If you like her, I mean. She’s pretty.”

Thomas followed Christian’s lead and threw his own rock, giving a short, victorious smile as it skipped one more time than Christian’s rock. Finally, he shrugged. “It’s not like that,” he said. “She’s not like most girls. She’s—” he scratched at his head “—I don’t know, special. She doesn’t notice that my clothes aren’t brand-spanking-new or that I don’t have a bunch of money like the rest of those dumb Yanks do. She thinks I’m funny, too.”

“Funny-looking, you mean,” quipped Owen with a smothered grin before returning to his whittling.

“Ha-ha. Go back to your stick or I’ll tell Poppy Jones a thing or two about you.”

Owen narrowed his stare at Thomas, his green eyes darkening. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.” Thomas gave his brother his best shit-eatin’ grin. “Like how you stare at the back of her head during class with this dopey look on your face.”

Christian cackled and slapped his knee. “You guys both got it bad. You won’t see me drooling over some girl. You gotta get them on the hook before you reel them in. And whatever you do, don’t let them get their claws into you. If you do, you’re done for.”

Both Thomas and Owen shared sour looks but they couldn’t exactly say anything to the contrary, because even as the youngest, Christian had the girls going nuts over him. In fact, they trailed after the kid like he was made of chocolate and they all wanted to take a bite, but Christian never let anyone catch him…at least not for long.

Owen straightened and examined his work. A rudimentary, but not half-bad-looking bear totem stared back at him. He tucked the finished work into his back pocket and went to stand by Thomas. “You know, you’re right. Cassi is different than other girls. She’s cool and I hope you two stay friends a long time. I mean it.”

That quiet statement resonated with Thomas, striking a chord deep inside him. “Thanks, man. Me, too. Yeah…I mean…” He shifted on the balls of his feet and admitted something private. “It would be cool if we did but she’s got all those rich friends…I don’t know. I don’t really fit in with her world.”

Owen knew a thing or two about not fitting in, but he shrugged and said, “Who cares what her rich friends think? Cassi wants you in her world so forget about them. She’s the one who matters, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed.

“So make the most of it then. And don’t let her go.”

Thomas shoulder-bumped him with a grin. “Look at you all wise and stuff.” They shared a laugh and then Thomas sobered. “Thanks.”

Owen grinned in answer and opened his mouth to say something but he never got the chance. Christian barreled into them both with a loud battle cry and they all went tumbling into the creek for one last cutthroat game of Drown the Rat before the sun set on the horizon.

The recollection of their laughter drew a soft smile from his lips. He didn’t know why that memory, of all the ones tucked away in his mind, rose to the surface but at least it elicited warmth instead of pain, like the ones before he came to live with Mama Jo.

As far as he was concerned, his life before age twelve didn’t exist. Shaking off the odd melancholy, he grabbed his cell phone and stopped short of giving his superior a status update. He figured there was no rush. The prisoner was secured and it was a five-hour drive back to headquarters. With nothing but time to pass, he thought he’d use the opportunity to satisfy the questions in his head.

It was a foolish idea. Somewhere in his mind there was a stern voice of reason warning him that this was a bad plan but he wasn’t listening at the moment. He could charter a plane on the Bureau’s dime and be there in half the time but he wanted to drive—and he wanted to spend time with her.

CASSI CAME TO WITH A GROAN that was immediately followed by a muttered curse under her breath when she realized she was handcuffed.

Her jaw hurt like hell. He’d punched her. She hadn’t seen that coming. Tommy wasn’t the kind of man who hit women. At least he hadn’t been. But her jaw ached like a son of a bitch so there was no denying what had happened.

She opened her eyes slowly and spared Tommy a short accusatory glance. “I can’t believe you hit me.”

“You were uncooperative.”

“Is it your habit now to hit women?” Given his childhood—she was one of a very small group who knew the details—it was a nasty question. His jaw tightened but she refused to feel bad. He’d punched her in the face. That wasn’t something she was going to forget anytime soon. There was also the fact that she was handcuffed like a common criminal to deal with, too. “I’d have thought that was one thing you’d never do. Seems I’m not the only who’s changed over the years.”

“I didn’t want to. You left me no choice,” he said.

“You had a choice. You could’ve let me go.” His silence told her how futile that argument was but she was more than angry with the man—her feelings were bruised that he’d purposefully hurt her. The Tommy in her memory would’ve beaten anyone to a pulp if they’d laid a hand on her. Now he was the one dealing out the punches. Her eyes stung. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. Instead she allowed a small smirk even though the action cost her as a sharp pain followed. She gingerly worked her jaw. The petty victory could only buoy her spirits for a brief moment but it was enough to keep the tears from surfacing. “You didn’t by any chance happen to grab a small, black leather date book on your way out, did you?”

“You aren’t going to need a date book where you’re going,” he answered and she scowled. “No, I didn’t grab anything but you from that hovel you called an apartment.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she shot back, an odd pang of embarrassment for her living conditions getting the better of her. What did she care what he thought? “I’ve lived in worse.”

He glanced at her. “Worse? That’s a scary thought. I think I saw a cockroach big enough to cart away a small child.”

“That was Charlie. I feed him scraps. I was training him to be an attack roach. A few more veggie burgers and he’d have been better than a guard dog. I could’ve sicced him on you,” she said dully, feeling ill at the loss of her date book. In her mind, she replayed the scenario again and again, sickened that she’d been so careless with the one important item in her possession.

“So, what’s in this date book that’s so important?”

She swallowed the burn at the back of her throat. Two years of hard work…gone. Why hadn’t she hit him harder? Truth was, she’d pulled her punch a little. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Not really. Now…hell, she should’ve knocked his teeth out of his head. She worked her jaw but refused to wince even though the pain felt rooted in her bones. “I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said, looking away so he didn’t read the despair in her eyes.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” he returned, his gaze never leaving the road, the unfeeling bastard. But then, he cut her a quick glance, saying, “But just out of curiosity—”

She closed her eyes. “Just shut up, will you? Whatever’s in that date book is none of your damn business, so drop it.”

“Fine.”

She leaned against the headrest and struggled not to just let it all out and cry her fool head off. At one time she would’ve bet her life that Tommy would always have her back. The man was integrity personified. Yet, here she was feeling betrayed by the very same man. Cassi twisted so that she could look out the window instead of at the man who was destroying any chance of getting her life back and—ironically—finding justice for her mother.

WHY DID HE FEEL AS IF HE was the one doing something wrong here? Thomas tightened his hands on the steering wheel and wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake in driving. Suddenly, that five-hour ride didn’t seem like a good idea. And what had he expected? It was unlikely Cassi was going to ignore the handcuffs and chatter away like old times. He wasn’t an idiot, even though his actions might indicate otherwise. He’d known all this…but he couldn’t resist the possibility of seeing her again…maybe even helping her through this mess she’d made for herself.

And now he felt like an idiot for even entertaining such thoughts. She wasn’t a damsel in distress. The woman was a far cry from the girl he’d known so long ago. This woman was a criminal…with a nasty punch. His head was still ringing.

So knowing all this…why was he feeling bad for her? He cast a quick glance her way then looked away again. Was that remorse in her expression? Her face, tilted away from him was in profile as she leaned against the glass. A tendril of something long lost kindled to life and reminded him of how he’d thought he was in love with her once.

“Tell me what you think it feels like to be in love,” a thirteen-year-old Cassi whispered from his memory of a day in late May. She’d been wearing a white sundress that dusted her knees and they’d stolen away to a meadow behind Mama Jo’s house on one of the occasions Cassi and her mother had had an argument. During those times, Cassi had often found her way to Thomas’s house, even though their homes weren’t exactly close. The warm breeze had lifted the honey-hued hair away from her face while her blue eyes had sparked with genuine curiosity. They’d tumbled to the tall grass and lay side by side on their stomachs, watching through the swaying green stalks as squirrels chased each other through the white ash trees and birds dipped and wheeled in the flawless cerulean sky.

He’d known the answer because he felt it every time he looked at her. “I think it makes your stomach all tight like someone’s squeezing it real hard, so much so that it hurts, but you don’t mind because it makes you want to be around that person, even when you’re not really doing anything special.”

She wrinkled her nose, not at all pleased with his theory. “That sounds like the stomach flu. Why would anyone want to fall in love if it made them want to throw up? No, I don’t think that’s how it is at all,” she announced firmly. “I think that when you’re in love you feel a tickle in your heart and you want to kiss that person all the time.”

Thomas’s young heart had stuttered at the thought of kissing Cassi. Cassi hadn’t noticed though and had simply sighed dreamily, saying, “I can’t wait to fall in love. I think I would like to kiss someone who wants to kiss me back.” Then an alarming thought had come to her and she sat a little straighter, turning to Thomas. “What if I never find someone who loves me? What if I go my entire life and no one wants to kiss me like that? Oh, Tommy, that’s an awful thought. I would die.”

And he’d wanted to reassure her that that would never happen because at that very moment he wanted to kiss her so bad his brain had simply stopped functioning. Then as he thought to lean forward to press his lips against hers in what would’ve been their first kiss, she’d leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Can you keep a secret?” He’d been dumbfounded as she giggled, admitting, “I think I’m going to fall in love with Billy Barton and I’m going to kiss him.”

His world had plummeted.

And Cassi’s first kiss had been with a boy who could burp the alphabet…not with Thomas. Their kiss wouldn’t happen for another four years.

Jerked back to the moment, he suffered the pang of that bittersweet childhood memory and was happy to push it away and focus on the here and now, not the been and gone.