10
Christy paced her living room, wringing her hands as she waited for that man to arrive.
Even though she'd been expecting it, she jumped at the sound of the doorbell. Instead of moving toward it she stood frozen, frightened.
She'd asked a possible murderer to meet her. Alone. In her home.
Am I crazy?
As a precaution she'd hidden her little semiautomatic within easy reach under a cushion, but she doubted she'd need it. That man seemed obsessed with her daughter. Possessive. He wouldn't do anything that would cause him to lose her. One sure way of doing that was to harm her mother.
At least Christy prayed it would be that way. What if he was some sort of Svengali who could force Dawnie to stay with him even after he'd harmed her mother?
All right. Enough of that. Be calm. This is going to work. He's not going to hurt you because you're not going to threaten him or accuse him of anything. What was the point anyway? She'd toyed with the idea of calling the police and telling them what she knew about Michael Gerhard, but without proof—with no body even to indicate there had been a crime—she'd wind up right where she was now.
So she'd come up with another way.
The bell rang again. She moved to the door and opened it. There he was, standing on the front steps. He wore jeans and a fitted black western shirt that clung to his frame. Christy couldn't deny his aura of raw-boned animalism. Once again she could see why Dawnie was so taken with him.
"May I come in?" he said, his tone and expression neutral.
Well, at least it was a cordial start. She stood aside and motioned him into the room.
"Please."
Before closing the door she sneaked a peek to see if Dawn had tagged along, but saw no sign of her. She decided to address him with the same level of cordiality.
"Forgive me for not offering you a drink or a seat, but I don't think our business here will last all that long."
"Business?"
Might as well get to it.
"Yes. I have a business proposition for you."
"Really." He drew out the word. "Okay. I'm listenin."
She picked up a Talbot's shopping bag from the coffee table and handed it to him.
"That's yours if you agree to certain conditions."
Frowning, he took it and glanced inside. Then he looked up at her.
"Cash?"
"A quarter of a million dollars."
After her confrontation with Dawnie and this man, she'd run out and withdrawn it from the money-market account she used to hold her cash between trades. The bank had given her a hard time but she'd insisted. This was worth every penny if it worked.
"What?"
"It can be yours. All you have to do to earn it is say good night to Dawn tonight as usual, and then drop out of her life forever."
His blue gaze bored into her, through her. "You must think I'm the worst sort of lowlife."
She stepped back, closer to the pistol. Remember: no threats, no accusations.
"My only thought is that you are the wrong man for Dawn."
He shook his head. "You got it all wrong. I'm the right man for Dawn, the rightest man in the world. Our destinies are twined. Together we're gonna change this big ol' world."
Christy wanted to scream but kept her tone level. "I want you out of her life and I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is. Take it."
Of course he could take the cash and stay with Dawn, but that would cause a fall from grace in her eyes. Dawn would want him to give it back, and if he refused…
"You don't get it, do you. We was made for each other. I'll fight to keep her and I'll fight anyone who tries to come between us. But more"—he pointed a finger at her—"and you as a mother ought to appreciate this—I will protect her from all harm. I will trade my life for hers if it comes down to that."
The words stunned her. Not so much because she hadn't expected them, but because of the undeniable sincerity behind them. This man would indeed die for Dawnie.
Why? He'd known her only a few months.
This was crazy.
He stepped to the side and dumped the stacks of bills onto the coffee table.
"What are you doing?"
He said nothing as he pulled out his cell phone. She watched as he opened it and started pressing buttons.
Calling Dawn? Oh, no!
"What are you doing? Who are you calling?"
"Nobody." He aimed the flip top of the phone at the pile of bills and pressed a button. "Just gettin proof."
"Proof of what?"
And then she knew. Her heart twisted in her chest when she realized what he was up to.
"No, please. Let's forget this ever happened! Please?"
He smiled as he slipped past her, opened the door, and stepped out into the night.
Christy stood there, numb, bloodless.
What would make a thirty-something man turn down a quarter of a million dollars to stay with a naive eighteen-year-old? Most people would say it had to be love, but Christy couldn't buy that.
It was something else. He talked about entwined—"twined"—destinies and changing the world… what was going on in that man's head?
But worse than that… she had a feeling she"d just made an awful mistake. She had to call Dawnie, reach her before that man did. Find some way to explain.
She ran for her phone.