She’d never been afraid of Hunter, not even at his angriest. Even now, she did not believe he would hurt her…physically.
But he shouldn’t have the power to wound her emotionally, either. Not today. He doesn’t, she told herself.
Yet that didn’t stop pain worse than if he’d actually assaulted her.
“I’m sorry, Hunter.” She reached out and gently touched his arm. It was hard, tensed by his anger. And warm.
She remembered when he had held her in his arms tenderly. When tenderness had turned to lust. Don’t go there, she reminded herself again.
“I know you don’t want to believe it,” she continued. “Neither do I. But I’ve lived with this a very long time. These stories can’t be changed. In fact, my Grandma O’Leary warned me, when she was alive, that I shouldn’t even try.” Of course Shauna had tried anyway, especially with her father. “It could be too dangerous.”
“For you? Well, what about the victims of your stories?”
She couldn’t stand much more of this. She knew he was lashing out because of his own misery. You’re a therapist. Counsel him. Better yet, counsel yourself.
Her mind fished frantically for the right words. Don’t take it personally came to mind.
As if she could help it. But she managed to move her hand from his arm and take a step back.
“Tell you what,” she said a lot more calmly than she felt. “Leave now. Take the story, if you think there are clues in it or that it’ll help you some other way. Keep in touch, and if anything different happens from what’s written, let me know. I’ll enter it, then let you know if it saves on the computer and changes the ending. Okay?”
A phone rang. Hunter’s cell, which he yanked from the back pocket of his khaki trousers. “Yeah?” Shauna couldn’t hear what was being said, but Hunter’s expression turned tormented before going blank again. “Yeah. I’m on my way.” He flipped the phone closed. “That was my assistant Simon. My ex-wife, Margo, is in hysterics about Andee. She’s upset that Simon’s brought in the cops, even someone we know and trust. The kidnapper told her not to, like that kind always does, so she’s distraught. Simon thinks I’d better get there fast to see if I can calm her down.” He snorted. “Fat chance.”
“But you have to try, of course. I’ll be thinking about you, wishing you—and Andee—well.”
“You’ll be thinking about me, all right. You’re coming along.”
She stared. “Why would I do that?”
“Because of your story. You say you can’t change it. Fine. I know you believe that. I don’t have time to argue.” His laugh was bitter. “I don’t want to believe any of it. But I can’t take chances.”
Shauna closed her eyes. “I can’t help you, Hunter.” But she knew she was lying. She had become a licensed therapist for just this kind of situation.
She knew how to help people in crisis situations.
Especially those whose crises were the subjects of her stories.
But most were strangers. Hunter wasn’t, despite the years they hadn’t seen each other. She would be too emotionally involved.
Going with him would be a mistake.
“Come with me, Shauna. You’ll tell me everything possible about your damned stories. And you’ll work with me to make sure this one doesn’t come true. Got it?”
“Hunter, I can’t.” She regretted bringing him to her house.
If they were anywhere else, she’d have fled.
For that wasn’t the end of it. If he’d continued to demand, or even threatened, she’d have stood her ground.
But he closed the space between them, reached out and took her hands in his much larger ones, gripping them tightly. She remembered when he’d held her hands before…lovingly.
His voice, too, sounded full of emotion as he said, “Please, Shauna. Please help me. For Andee’s sake. I’ll beg if I have to, but—”
She couldn’t stand that. She looked up into his sorrowful green eyes and said something she regretted even as she spoke it. “All right, damn it, Hunter. I’ll come.”
Chapter 3
Shauna stared resignedly into the passenger’s side-view mirror. The familiar small-town streets of Oasis receded behind them and, with their disappearance, all sense of serenity and comfort receded from her mind.
But this wasn’t about her.
She turned to watch the man sitting beside her. It was about him. His posture was stiff and taut, as if he maintained such discipline over himself that moving a muscle except to steer the car would snap him like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point.
His expression was as bleak as the rolling desert vista that abutted the highway, and he kept his eyes straight ahead, not even glancing toward her.
She struggled to think of something to say that would not sound too much like psychobabble, yet be of some help to this man who had once meant so much to her.
But what was there to say? His daughter had been kidnapped. A five-year-old child. And whether or not Hunter believed her, she had already told him there could be no happy ending.
And despite his earlier apology, she knew he somehow blamed her for this, as he once had blamed her for another situation she had written about that had gotten so terribly out of control.
She had packed and changed clothes quickly before leaving home. Now she wore a pink buttoned shirt tucked into navy slacks, a matching navy vest and sandals. L.A. wouldn’t be as warm as Arizona, so she’d stuffed a sweater into a small suitcase with a couple of changes of clothes and her night paraphernalia.
She considered turning on the radio, for the only sounds were the growl of the engine and the unending road noise of tires humming on pavement.
First, though, she needed to make a call. She pulled her cell phone from the bottom of the burlap tote bag that doubled as her purse and pressed buttons until the number she called most frequently showed on the display screen.
It was answered on the second ring. “Fantasy Fare. Hi, Shauna. Are you okay? Where are you going?”
“Hello to you, too, Kaitlin.”
Shauna smiled to herself in bittersweet irony. Kaitlin Verona, a lithe and exuberant dynamo, was her closest friend, and the manager she’d blessedly hired to assist her with running Fantasy Fare.
Kaitlin had dropped in one day when a child had fallen at the restaurant and his father was threatening a lawsuit. Not only that, but food deliveries were late. In short, when things had been particularly hellish.
Kaitlin had simply taken over, made both the kid and his parents laugh, and used her sense of humor to persuade the superintendent of the food warehouse where Shauna
