occurrence. And while they talked fairly regularly, he didn’t make a habit of telling her—or any of his family—about his daily movements. At least not anymore. The family had been very close before Karyn had been raped.
While that incident had pulled them together to support her, it had also caused tension among them. Whenever he’d seen his mother, she’d talk only about how Karyn was doing. How her case was progressing. And those discussions had always increased the guilt and rage that crawled inside him.
Something he really didn’t need. He’d pulled away from them—a form of punishment for his part in it all and protection for his sanity.
Shaking off the unwanted thoughts, he refocused on the modest brick building Anne called home. It surprised him. He’d expected her to live in a rambling mansion or an exclusive subdivision with a gate and guard shack, at least. The house was nice. Small, but she lived alone so it made sense. It wasn’t wasteful or extravagant but it was in a good neighborhood.
He could easily get inside. But that wasn’t why he’d come. He still wasn’t sure that coming here had been the smart thing to do, but here he was.
It had been a little over a month since he’d last seen Anne, since she’d slipped through his fingers out that hotel door. Part of him had wanted to chase after her, to ask her why she’d thought it was necessary to leave like a thief while he was in the shower.
But he hadn’t.
It had been a very long time since he’d had to chase after a woman. He wasn’t in the habit of pursuing females who didn’t want his attention—especially after what had happened to his sister—and it was clear that Anne wanted nothing more to do with him.
If he’d thought of her—often in the middle of lonely nights—that was his own problem.
Or it had been until Marie Prescott had called Mitchell Security.
After being court-marshaled four years ago for his assault-and-battery stunt, he’d been dishonorably discharged from the army and had to find another way to make a living. He’d been trained in surveillance, so opening a security firm had been a no-brainer. Things had been difficult to begin with—his history made hiring him for security a tough sell. But his superior officers and fellow soldiers had helped, sending him referrals whenever they could. Their support and understanding had meant so much.
Eventually his reputation and work had spoken for themselves. That and the fact that his case had been overturned on appeal—after he’d already left the army—and his discharge changed to honorable. But he’d never been so happy that the lean days were over as when he’d gotten the call from Anne’s mother. He hadn’t liked the way she’s spoken to him. She was demanding. Entitled. Egotistical. She’d offered him money—lots of it—if he’d help bring her daughter home, and he’d delighted in declining.
So why was he sitting outside Anne’s house?
Marie Prescott’s warnings had niggled in the back of his brain until he couldn’t concentrate for worry that the woman might be right. Marie had told him Anne refused to believe the threat was real and was ignoring her edicts to return home where she would be safe on the family compound.
That he could believe. Admittedly, he didn’t know Anne all that well, but what he’d gleaned from their one night together was that she had an independent streak a mile wide and was unafraid and adventurous. Not the sort of person to be easily cowed.
However, the more he’d thought about it the more he’d worried. If Marie was telling the truth and something bad happened to Anne he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
He hadn’t agreed to help Marie just yet. Why had she called him? Her answer when he’d asked had been that she thought his personal ties through Karyn might help in persuading her. That perhaps Anne would listen to someone she trusted more than she’d apparently listened to her mother. Little did the woman know he was likely the last person Anne wanted to see … or trust. But he couldn’t simply ignore the situation if she really was in danger.
So he’d take a look around for anything suspicious. He’d ask her if she’d noticed anything unusual. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the interview but life wasn’t always pleasant. And, in truth, he really wanted to see Anne again. Maybe it would help him get her out of his head.
He glanced down at the clock on the dashboard—two o’clock. He had at least three or four hours before she’d be home from work, and he had no desire to corner her there. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him, and his reason for being here wasn’t likely to change her opinion. His showing up at her office would only add to the unpleasantness, not to mention her resistance. No sense in putting himself at a disadvantage before the conversation even began.
So it looked as if he had some time to kill.
Maybe he should go back and visit more with Karyn. Maybe she’d have some suggestions on how he could soften Anne up … Ideas that wouldn’t involve the use of his tongue and hands—as much as that disappointed—because something told him that he’d had his shot at her warming his bed. Unfortunately, it was all his deprived mind could come up with at the moment. Seducing her into submission.
ANNE PULLED into her parking spot, turned the key in the ignition and leaned her head back against the headrest. Home. Finally. A headache throbbed at the center of her skull, the result of skipping lunch and a meeting from hell.
She’d been excited to receive a promotion to VP of marketing right after the wedding. It had been a confirmation of her talent and a direct result of the hard work she’d put in at Walker Technologies over the past several years. She’d come to college late—starting at twenty—and had gone to work for Walker when she’d graduated four years later. Six years more and she was working her way up the corporate ladder.
Product placement, ad campaigns, market research, sales projections and tracking. She loved every minute of her job—although developing media campaigns had to be her favorite. It gave her a chance to use her media history for something other than bad memories.
The ironic thing was that it was precisely the kind of position she could have held at Prescott Hotels if her mother had ever thought she had the intelligence. Funny how she’d had to leave to find her success. Lucky for her that she’d also found contentment. Too bad for her mother, who still couldn’t admit she’d been wrong about her daughter.
Thinking about her mother made the pounding in Anne’s head increase to brain numbing. Marie had been the only parent—and Anne used the term loosely—in her life since her father had died in a car accident when she was four. She barely remembered him now—nothing but a fuzzy idea of what might have been.
She’d kept in contact with her mother over the past ten years, although that contact had been infrequent and as brief as possible. But suddenly that wasn’t good enough—Marie had called her every day this week. What was making her mother so desperate?
Marie had been trying to get her back to the family estate for months, but something had obviously happened to increase the intensity of her machinations. The week had started with another edict, something Anne found easy to ignore. But then the cajoling had started. That was different. The concern over Anne’s safety, a revelation that Anne was in danger from a stalker—something Anne had seen no proof of—and finally the claim that Marie was ill.
She wondered what lie her mother would come up with next. And as much as she didn’t want to, she wondered what the truth was.
Not
