“It’s not your decision.”
“The hell it’s not! One of us has to play it smart and it sure as hell isn’t you. You aren’t in this alone, Ramie. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting you offer yourself like a sacrificial lamb to a deranged psychopath who wants your death. It’s not up for negotiation. If I have to tie you to the goddamn bed and sit on you I’ll do it and suffer no remorse whatsoever.”
“What do we do then?” she asked in frustration. “I can’t live like this, Caleb. I can still smell blood, feel it on my hands and remember the instant he killed her. It’s a game of chess to him. He’s cold and calculating and he enjoys death. He’s god of his own universe and is an unstoppable force.”
He kissed her furrowed brow, trying to ease her fretting. “You being dead won’t save anyone.” She sucked in her breath as he continued ruthlessly. “Do you honest to God believe he’d stop with you? He’ll always need the rush. A bigger challenge.”
She made a frustrated sound of grief. “He’s probably already hunting for his next target. He’ll keep taunting me until he gets what he wants.”
“I don’t give a damn what he wants,” Caleb snapped, his arm tightening around her body. “I will not hand you over to him nor will I allow you to be drawn into a trap that may or may not result in his capture. We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way,” she said quietly. “You know it and I know it. Eliza and Dane know it. The police know it. How long do you think they’re going to put up with a maniac killing off women before they throw me at him?”
“If I have to take you out of the country I will,” Caleb said, his jaw clenched tightly. “This isn’t open for debate, Ramie.”
She sagged against him and then sighed wearily. “We can’t do this, Caleb. It’s insane.”
He frowned, a growl of frustration welling in his throat. “We’ve already discussed this. I asked you to stay. To fight for your right to stay. With me. For me. If I’m willing to make sacrifices, shouldn’t you be as well?”
Ramie pushed herself up on her elbow, tugging the sheet over her breasts. “Any other time I’d say yes. If we’d met?. . .??before. Maybe we would have had a chance. But this has no shot at working out the way it stands now. What kind of life will you have with me in hiding for the rest of my life, unwilling to confront a killer? A constant reminder to your family of what happened to Tori.”
“Shut up,” he said rudely. “I never said I had all the answers. But I happen to think you’re worth fighting for. I’m not giving you up.”
“God, Caleb. It’s not that I don’t want you or that I don’t want to fight for you—us—whatever. I’m just trying to get you to understand what kind of life it will be, not only for you but for your family. I can’t hide for the next fifty years.”
“I don’t see why the hell not,” Caleb bit out.
She let her head fall to his chest, pressing her forehead against his skin. He sighed and slid his hand into her hair, absently massaging her nape.
“I have feelings for you that I’ve never had for another woman. And I want to explore those feelings. See where it takes us. All I know is that I can’t—won’t—give you up. Not for Tori or my brothers and definitely not for a homicidal maniac. As I said, I don’t have all the answers—yet. But that doesn’t mean I’m just giving up and handing you over like some virgin sacrifice.”
She stared at him in silence. He could see her processing his statement, obvious befuddlement in her features.
“Just accept it,” Caleb said. “You aren’t going to talk me out of it. You aren’t going to tell me what I do or don’t feel for you. And you may as well resign yourself to the fact that I’m digging my heels in whether you like it or not. Now, I’m going to go down and fix us something to eat and then we’re going to go back to bed and in the morning we’ll sit down with Dane and Eliza and brainstorm some more. And one more thing, Ramie,” he said, tugging her hair so she was forced to look at him. “Get used to being in my bed because that’s where you’re going to sleep from now on.”
TWENTY
TORI sat up in bed, coming awake with a gasp. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her pulse so rapid she was weak. She scrambled out of bed, the images still vibrant and alive in her mind. She could still hear the gunshot, smell the blood and could see the face of her tormentor as he pointed a gun straight at her.
She went into her bathroom and splashed cool water on her flushed face. Then she lifted haunted eyes to her reflection in the mirror and winced at how pale and gaunt she looked.
It had been a year. It was time to move on. Time to stop being afraid of her shadow. Live.