The Hidden Years

Sure. I’ll just sprinkle fairy dust over him and he’ll turn from an old friend into the perfect lover.

I see you prefer crying.

I’m not crying.

Cassidy tossed the box into the car and angrily wiped away the solitary tear running from the corner of her eye.

That Jake had grown into such a handsome man hadn’t surprised her. She’d always admired his whiskey-colored eyes, olive skin and black hair. But during the past ten years, he’d grown another few inches, towering over her five foot eight, and his features had sharpened. The hollows under his cheekbones had grown deeper. His eyes glittered with an intensity that almost made her shiver. The changes in his eyes bothered her the most. Eyes that she recalled as warm and friendly as a puppy’s now burned with amber fire. Even outside in the breezy Gulf air, she could still recall their blazing heat.

However, she would not think about the pain of betrayal she’d seen in his eyes when she’d told him that her father had had the answers that he’d so desperately sought. If only her father were still alive so he could explain his actions. Despite what Jake thought, she knew her father had been a good man. He must have had an honorable reason for his seemingly inexplicable actions.

Cassidy had never told Jake that her father had insisted that she follow her dream of college and law school and had discouraged her from considering Jake as anything more than a friend. Jake would have assumed that his poor background and lack of family and education were the reason Frazier had insisted that his daughter attend college as she’d always planned. And Cassidy couldn’t hurt Jake with something he’d had no control over.

Even at eighteen she’d understood why her father wanted her to follow her dream of becoming a lawyer and not give up like Cassidy’s mother had. Her parents had married during law school. After her mother had become pregnant, she’d dropped out of school, and while she’d always intended to return, she never had. Her mother had put her dream on hold—and then she’d died. And her father insisted that Cassidy put her education first.

So she hadn’t let herself become involved with Jake for the sake of a dream. Cassidy’s goal was to practice law. Jake’s dream was to have a family. To him family meant everything—especially since he’d never had one. And he never ever took relationships casually, because he’d had so few people who’d cared about him. Because Cassidy didn’t trust herself with Jake, because she couldn’t let their friendship change, she’d deliberately chosen to stop any further feelings from developing between them.

She’d always looked at Jake as a brother, and they’d kept that platonic friendship until she’d left for college.

When a slip of paper that hadn’t fallen from the box earlier wafted into the air on a gust, Cassidy snatched the paper by instinct and crushed it. She didn’t care if that paper had the names, addresses and social-security numbers of both of Jake’s sisters. No way would she return to that house. She couldn’t face another of Jake’s rebuffs.

He’d made it very clear that she wasn’t wanted, and Cassidy wouldn’t stay and help now if he came out on his knees and begged. That image brought a slight upward quirk to her lips. The thought of Jake Cochran begging anyone was a ludicrous image.

A bit calmer, Cassidy slipped behind the steering wheel, the paper still crumpled in her fingers. She backed out of the drive, letting the wheels squeal as she turned a sharp corner, eager to leave behind the disturbing image of an angry Jake. But she couldn’t relax the tension in her shoulders even after she passed out of sight of Jake’s house.

What had happened to him? She mourned the loss of the young man she’d known, recalling their short time together with a fondness that couldn’t have been totally one-sided. They’d been good friends, sharing their dreams and hopes for the future. She’d told Jake how she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. He’d spoken of finding his family and joining Special Forces. They’d rarely argued, and she recalled a unique closeness. She’d thought of him as the older brother she’d always wanted and never had. Or were her memories skewed? She’d always believed Jake had liked her. But maybe he’d just used her friendship in an attempt to get to her father. If that had been his plan, he’d failed. To her knowledge, her father had never spoken to anyone about the adoptions. Not even to her.

Remembering she needed to pick up a few things, Cassidy stopped for gas and bought fresh milk at the convenience store. She ran the car through the wash and checked the tires for air before slipping back behind the wheel. She headed for home, determined to ignore Jake and his problems.

Cassidy stopped at a red light and started to toss the crumpled paper she’d left on the seat into the trash. But she noticed writing on the paper and looked more carefully. Numbers. A ten-digit phone number.

Curious, Cassidy punched the numbers into her car phone. As the light turned green, a bored-sounding female voice answered. “Password, please.”

Password?

Behind Cassidy, a car honked. “Hold on a sec.”

She pulled off the road and parked, then stared at the yellowed slip of paper while the bored voice requested again, “Password, please.”

Cassidy flipped over the paper and read the scrawled script aloud, “Blow back?”

She heard several clicks and then a different voice said, “One moment.”

Pleased with herself, Cassidy waited, wondering who would answer the other end of the line. She waited at least a minute or two and was about to hang up when a harried male voice finally responded. “Who are you working for? How did you get this number?”

Suddenly nervous as the voice demanded answers, Cassidy speculated about whom she was talking with and why he was acting as if she’d done something illegal. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

Quickly she hung up the phone and then tossed the paper into her purse. She wouldn’t return to give it to Jake, but maybe she’d mail it. Then she remembered how he’d treated her. Maybe she wouldn’t bother.

Cassidy drove into Crescent Cove along sunny palm-lined streets, and slowly the tension left her shoulders. Her grip on the steering wheel eased. Her hometown usually had a relaxing effect on her. In Crescent Cove, the neighbors still knew one another and waved as Cassidy drove by. The kid next door mowed the lawn and children played in the yards and laughed on swing sets. If the state hadn’t been undergoing a drought and the county hadn’t been under water restrictions, the kids would be running under sprinklers. Instead, they made do with bikes and inline skates.

Her own lawn was turning brown, but tomorrow was her morning to water. Cassidy used the automatic opener and pulled in to her two-car garage, then closed the door behind her. Glad to be home in the house she’d inherited from her father, along with his small-town law practice, Cassidy opened the door that led into the kitchen she loved. The oak table she’d found at the flea market last month still needed another coat of varnish, but she was pleased by the effect it made under the curtains decorated with daisies.

A trash can lay on its side.

Cassidy straightened the can with a frown. Had another duck flown down the chimney? Cautiously she headed into the den and set her purse on the table. The morning sun usually shone brightly through the window, but she must have forgotten to open the curtains.

After her father died, she’d redecorated, painting the plastered walls a yellow that complemented the gleaming parquet floors. She’d bought colorful seascapes by local artists and added a homey touch to the couch with hand-embroidered pillows. Cassidy spoiled herself by buying fresh flowers every week. She’d picked sprigs of orange blossoms off her citrus tree out back, and the scents mingled in a flowery bouquet. She sniffed appreciatively and caught a whiff of smoke. With the drought conditions, everyone feared fires.

But this smelled like cigarette smoke.

The hair on the back of Cassidy’s neck stirred. Had someone been in the house? The next thought felt like a punch to her stomach. Suppose she wasn’t alone.

Cassidy didn’t hesitate. She whirled on her heel to head back toward the kitchen.

The curtain in the den moved. Was someone behind it? Or had a breeze caught it, flickering ominous shadows across the wood floor?

Cassidy changed direction. Heard a footstep that wasn’t hers. A thud.

Heart pumping, she raced down the hall toward the front door. Lost time twisting the dead bolt. Flung open the door.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Chapter Two

Cassidy screamed.

Before she could turn around, she glimpsed a gloved hand as the intruder slid an arm around her neck, yanked her back to his chest, placed a knife to her throat, slammed the front door. The blade bit skin, and the sting convinced Cassidy the man meant business. She held perfectly still, so frightened she could barely make her knees stiffen enough to hold her upright.

“There’s two hundred dollars—”

“Silence.”

The intruder put a black cap on Cassidy’s head and pulled it down over her eyes, blinding her.

Oh, God. If he didn’t want her money, what did he want? Cassidy knew the statistics. One in three women would be raped during their lifetime, but she’d never expected it to happen to her. In her own house. Without a chance to fight back.

Her brain kicked into overdrive. She shouldn’t fight. The fact that he’d bothered to blindfold her was so she couldn’t identify him. He probably intended to let her go.

Eventually.

She considered screaming again. But her neighbors wouldn’t hear her through the thick plaster walls or over the lawn mower still roaring next door.

She was on her own.

Cassidy trembled, her mouth dry as sandpaper, her stomach full of bile. She told herself not to fight, but the moment the knife left her throat, her instinct for self-preservation took over. She was no martyr. She had to try to save herself.

She swung her hips and shoulder to one side. Simultaneously she stomped on his foot and got lucky, digging her heel into his toes.

The man cursed. But blocked the front door.

She had only seconds and lunged to the right as she lifted the cap from her eyes. Picking up a vase as she ran, she threw it over her shoulder and heard the pane of glass beside the front door shatter.

Sliding across the front hallway, she knocked a chair into his path, raced through the dining room and back through the kitchen. If she could just make it to the porch door.

A gun’s chamber clicked. “Take another step and I’ll shoot.”

Cassidy dived toward the doorknob. She heard the hiss of a bullet, which lodged in the door in front of her. Cassidy skidded to a halt.

“Turn around and you’re a dead woman.”

Cassidy froze. She still hadn’t seen the man’s face, just a gloved hand. She didn’t dare turn around as the footsteps approached. The cap came down over her head again, blinding her. The man gripped her arm, shoved her into a chair, tied her hands behind her back.

This couldn’t be happening. She would wake up from the nightmare at any moment. Blind, helpless, Cassidy fought back, fear howling through her. “What do you want?”

“Who do you work for?”

The question arrowed another shot of terror through her. That familiar question wasn’t what she’d expected, but she was too frightened to recall just where she’d heard it before. “I don’t work for anyone.”

The sudden slap of a palm against her face made her ears ring and her eyes tear. The man spoke as casually as if inviting her to breakfast. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It doesn’t matter much to me.”

Cassidy twisted her wrists in their bonds, but she couldn’t even hope to get free. There was no slack in the ties. Her wrists were already going numb. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Who do you work for?” the man asked again.

The man’s tone was cold as death. She knew better than to give the same answer as she had before; that would only earn her another brutal slap.

“My father died last year. I inherited his law practice.”

Another brutal slap on the other cheek slammed her head sideways. Cassidy tasted blood in her mouth.

“I don’t care about your daddy. Who do you work for?”

“You mean my clients?”

Cassidy practiced family law. She didn’t defend murderers or drug smugglers. She couldn’t imagine which one of her clients this man was interested in. Could barely think with her head ringing, her cheeks on fire. But the sickening fear in her stomach was the worst.

Her tormentor’s voice was too cold, too professional to give her any hope of getting out of this alive. At first she’d thought the blindfold was to prevent her from identifying him but now she suspected he just wanted her terrified so she’d talk. His tactics were working. She felt icy cold and burning hot at the same time.

She had the horrible feeling that as soon as she told him what he wanted to know, he’d put a bullet in her brain.

He could spend the entire day beating her.

She lived alone.

Didn’t expect company.

And she had no idea what he wanted.

Again he asked the dreaded question. “Who do you work for?”

And again she had no answer.

AFTER PERUSING THE PAPERS Cassidy had dumped at his feet, Jake packed them up and heaved them into the trunk of his car, his anger slowly cooling. She’d offered to help him, and like it or not, he really needed that help, not just her legal expertise, but her common sense. Even if she had every right to be furious with him, he hoped after he apologized, she’d forgive him.

He made the thirty-minute drive from Half Moon Bay to Crescent Cove in less than twenty minutes. While he knew Cassidy would probably rather see the abominable snowman than him showing up at her house uninvited, Jake owed her an apology. She’d done him a favor, and in return, he’d blamed her for her father’s actions and implied that she was a liar. Inexcusable behavior under any circumstances. And he had no excuse. Except that she’d pushed all his buttons, reminding him of his failures, reminding him of one of the worst nights of his life.

That extraordinary summer he’d never even kissed Cassidy, but that hadn’t stopped him from dreaming about sex and love the way most eighteen-year-old boys do. But unlike most boys who’d grown up with the love of family around them, Jake had never had anyone tell him that they’d loved him—not since he’d been five and his father had died. No one had ever told him he’d done a good job. No one had ruffled his hair with affection or hugged him. If anyone touched him at all, it had been a fist to the chin, an elbow to the gut.

So he’d craved affection. Maybe he’d read more into her emotions than had been there. He’d been so hungry for love that when she’d called him that long-ago afternoon to tell him she had special news and a special evening planned, he’d hoped and dreamed that they might make love.

He’d bought a few candles to hide the dingy walls of his room, changed the sheets and spent his last few dollars to borrow a radio from another boarder. Freshly showered after a ten-hour day slinging hamburgers, he’d met Cassidy at his door. She’d taken his hand and dragged him down to the park where they could watch the stars in the balmy Floridian moonlight.

After blowing out the candles, he’d followed willingly enough. She’d brought a blanket and a picnic dinner, but he’d been too excited to fill his ever-hungry stomach. He’d hoped she wanted a little romance before they went back to his room. He could still recall her aroma, wildflowers and honey, her lips scented of strawberry lipstick. But most of all he’d craved her golden heat. Cassidy’s skin was always warm to his touch, and he could never seem to resist holding her hand or running his fingers through her silky hair. Under a crescent moon he’d leaned over to kiss her, as ready as a volcano to burst with wanting her. And she’d pulled away.

When he’d suggested going back to his room, she’d turned over and told him she was heading to UCLA in California in two weeks. And his world crashed. Hard. Without Cassidy to brighten his dreary nights, the two jobs he worked each week to make ends meet seemed unbearable. California might as well have been Mars. Four years and three thousand miles would effectively separate them and end their relationship just as her father had intended, since Jake couldn’t afford to follow her to California. Even after he joined Special Forces, he hadn’t been able to put her out of his mind.

Cassidy had been the first person to show him affection or friendship for thirteen years, and losing her had devastated him. He’d coped with the emptiness by working harder. In what little spare time he had after his honorable discharge from the military, Jake had searched for his sisters and developed the skills to open his own detective agency. But no matter how many hours he’d worked, he’d never forgotten that bright summer when anything and everything had seemed possible. And he’d never forgotten what it felt like to wake up in the morning and look forward to Cassidy’s smile brightening his day.

Jake drove up to Cassidy’s house and saw a broken windowpane next to the front door. His instinct for trouble immediately kicked in. Maybe a kid had thrown a baseball through the pane. But why was the glass still glinting on the front stoop?

There could be a dozen reasons. The likeliest was that Cassidy wasn’t home.

Still, Jake had learned to take precautions. He drove past the house and parked down the street. Picking up his cell phone, he called his friend and number-one employee, Harrison Gordon, and quickly gave him his location.

“If you don’t hear from me within four minutes, send the cops.”

Ever cautious, the former police office from Dade County asked, “Want backup?”

“Cassidy may be in trouble. Phone’s in my pocket. I’ll leave the line open.”

“Be careful.”

Jake clipped the phone to his belt, eased his gun from his ankle holster and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t want to chance scaring Cassidy if it wasn’t necessary. And a bullet could shoot through fabric as easily as air.

Moving quickly and silently, Jake approached the ranch-style house from the side, slipping easily behind the shrubbery and ducking beneath the windows. Normally he would have scouted the perimeter and waited for backup, but he had a bad feeling in his gut.

When he approached the broken glass by the front door, he heard the sickening sound of a slap against flesh and a woman’s yelp of pain.

Sweat popped out on his brow. Every cell in his body yearned to burst through the door. But he wouldn’t do Cassidy an ounce of good if he got himself or her shot before he could rescue her.

Jake took a moment to reach for his phone. “I’m going in, Harrison. Get me backup. Fast.”

“Wait—”

Jake didn’t listen to the rest of Harrison’s warning. He eased through the door, gun first. Glass crunched under his shoes. Jake silently swore. He’d just given up the element of surprise.

At least the sickening sounds of the assault had stopped. But Jake couldn’t wait for the cops to arrive. It only took a nanosecond to end a life. Cassidy’s future might hinge on his next decision. Jake didn’t hesitate. He just wished he knew how many opponents he was up against and if they were armed.

Ducking through a doorway, Jake stepped lightly into the dining room. He quickly scanned the thick draperies. Saw no sign of feet peeking out beneath the bottom.

Keeping low, he dodged down a hallway and rolled into the kitchen. A bullet hissed past his ear. But he had heard no gunshot. Obviously the intruder used a silencer—unusual for a street thug.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake glimpsed Cassidy blindfolded by a cap, tied to a kitchen chair. Her shoulders slumped. He had no way of knowing if she was still breathing, and his heart missed a beat.

Think. Cassidy needed him to be professional.

Estimating that the gunfire had come from the direction of the refrigerator, Jake scrambled to the position least likely to put Cassidy in the line of fire.

In the distance, police sirens sounded. Two more bullets kept Jake behind the counter. He heard footsteps retreating. The back door squeaked open and then more footsteps pounded across the patio, indicating the intruder had run away.

Normally Jake would have pursued the culprit. But no way could he leave Cassidy blindfolded and tied to that chair, wondering if she was going to live or die. Not even for another minute.

Jake hurried to her and yanked the cap from her head. “Sunshine, talk to me. Are you all right?”

Dazed blue eyes looked at him with fear. Blood trickled from her mouth. “Jake?”

She was alive! Pleasure shot through him, but as much as he yearned to gather her into his arms, touch that golden skin, inhale her feminine scent and reassure himself that she was all right, he hesitated. He had no desire to renew the old feelings, sensations and emotions that touching her had once caused.

“Someone hit me.”

“He won’t anymore. Not ever again. I’m here now, Sunshine.”

He ached to pull her into his arms and hold her tenderly, but he shoved aside his needs, his urge to comfort her by touch and satisfy himself she was unharmed. Instead, he knelt and untied her hands and used his voice to give reassurance. “You’re safe. Whoever hit you went out the back door. I assume there was just one?”

Cassidy rubbed her wrists slowly but didn’t attempt to rise from the chair, reminding him of a wild bird caged too long and afraid to fly free. Banishing his own fears at what touching her might do to his turbulent emotions, Jake reached for her, but she twisted away, terror darkening her eyes and arrowing straight to his core.

Jake ignored her automatic rejection and how much his insides churned. She needed time to recover, time to collect herself. While she watched him with suspicion, he gave up trying to touch her again.

Jake took his phone off the belt clip. “Harrison, you still there?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Inform the cops that the suspect fled the area on foot. We’re okay in here.”

Distrust still clouding her eyes, Cassidy looked from the gun in Jake’s hand to the phone in the other. Her voice came out like a croak. “What are you doing here?”

“Explanations can wait. An ambulance is on the way. But let me see to that cut on your lip.” Jake took a clean dish towel, ran water over it, rinsed it out, then wrapped ice in it. He handed it to her. “Place this where it hurts.”

“Everything hurts.” Eyes narrowed, Cassidy stared at his gun as if she feared he’d shoot her any second.

Jake put on the safety, then handed her his weapon, butt first. “Smell my gun. It hasn’t been fired. Someone else attacked you, Sunshine. I would never hurt you.”

She sniffed the gun, and just the fact that she couldn’t take his word squeezed Jake’s emotions all over again. But he felt better when some of the fear left her eyes. He also realized how innocent she was. If he had been the intruder, he could have had two weapons.

Cassidy didn’t seem to have the strength to hold the ice to her swollen lip. Slowly he knelt beside her. “Here, let me do that.”

This time she allowed him to touch her. Jake gently eased the ice pack from her lip to her cheeks where bruises were already darkening beneath her golden skin. What kind of bastard struck a helpless woman across the face?

His expression must have shown his anger, because Cassidy, eyes bleak, jerked away from him.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’re going to install an alarm system in your house so this can never happen again. And one at your office, too.”

“He was going to kill me,” Cassidy muttered.

Jake wanted to question her, but recognized her dilated pupils as a sign of shock. He suspected that she barely knew what she was saying. So he just let her talk.