Her Galahad. Melissa James
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clenched her jaw. “Maybe not—but I need to know! You of all people should understand that.”
He shrugged. “I have a family. Parents who are getting old. A brother with juvie priors. A sister with a troubled kid. A cousin who did two years in lockup for assault. They’re making a success of their lives now, but that wouldn’t mean squat to the cops if Beller and Duncan got up a conspiracy against them.”
“Oh, dear God.” She grabbed her glass of water, but gagged on the second swallow. “You must hate me for what they did to you.”
He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve had a few doubts about your part in things since the day you slipped into the hardware store in Lynch Hill when a car pulled up behind you.”
She lifted her face, searching for answers in his eyes.
He nodded, with a wry grimace. “Your face still gives you away every time. The fear in your eyes, the hollow look of a hunted woman, has stayed with me ever since.”
“Is that why you watched me?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t think I trusted my own instincts until you pulled the gun on me today. But when Beller torched my car, I started thinking. It’s a pretty desperate act for a respectable guy like him. I thought maybe he wanted to stop me from getting to you, to stop us from getting together and talking. I needed to get out of Lynch Hill—and—well, someone had to look out for you, get you out of his reach, give you somewhere safe to stay.”
She closed her eyes, feeling the trembling work its way up from her fingers and toes. “Why would you do that for me? You think I betrayed you. I saw it in your eyes all afternoon.”
“Because I looked in your eyes, Tess. I could see what you tried to hide.” His eyes glimmered, soft and tender. “I know how it feels to be hunted down like an animal. I’ve lived in a cage. I couldn’t see it happen to you. I wouldn’t hand a mongrel dog over to Beller, let alone a woman I’d once loved. I’ve been watching you for the past week, making sure you were safe at the school, getting home at night.”
She almost laughed at the irony. A man who’d hated her for years was protecting her from the men who claimed to love her.
She swallowed a sense of bitter betrayal he didn’t deserve. A woman I’d once loved…
Of course he didn’t love her now. Only a man as warped as Cameron could still love her—but Cameron loved a creature of his own imagination, a girl who’d never existed—not for him. She wasn’t an innocent, trusting woman-child now, and she wanted nothing to do with that twisted emotion some people called love.
I wanted Jirrah to touch me just then.
That was something she couldn’t deny, much as she wanted to.
Her heart was a seething mass of longing and fear, guilt and anger, sadness and a deep, painful confusion. She couldn’t sort out truth from lies until Jirrah proved his story to her.
Maybe I don’t want to hear it. Maybe I just want to run and hide again, turn my face from truth. Weak fool…
She made herself smile, weak and shallow, an ineffective cover for the turbulence of emotions even she didn’t understand. “Thank you, Jirrah, but what I need is the truth,” she said in gentle, cool dismissal. “I don’t need a hero for hire.”
“What makes you think you can buy me?”
She stared at him, taken aback by his sudden burst of incomprehensible anger. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Yes, you did. You meant exactly that.” He shoved his plate away and got to his feet, his eyes glittering dark ice. “The high and mighty Theresa Earldon of the rich and powerful Earldons and Bellers, who think everything has a price—even justice, or a man’s integrity.”
At the contempt she didn’t deserve, something sparked inside her. “You forgot one name in that pretty liturgy. Oliveri,” she snapped. “I’m not and never was Theresa Beller. Like David Oliveri, she doesn’t exist. So unless by some miracle you got a divorce without having me sign papers, I’m Tessa Oliveri, or McLaren, or whatever you call yourself now—your wife. And I don’t buy anything I can’t earn with my teacher’s wage since Cameron froze my assets and took power of attorney.” She turned to the wall, fighting the urge to heave. “So don’t talk to me about buying justice. I’ve been bought, and I’m all too well aware of how powerless I am!”
Soft clapping made her start. She whirled around to face him. He was grinning. “Good girl. You worked it out. You’ve decided to trust me. Now we can move out of the past and go forward.”
She frowned. “Why should you think I trust you?”
“Don’t you?” He moved toward her. Fascinated by the look in his eyes, the hypnotic smile, she couldn’t move. “I provoked you—deliberately riled you with that buying justice crack—and you snapped back. You knew I wouldn’t hit you or hurt you.” He took another step. Her limbs felt paralyzed; all she could do was move her tongue over dry lips, and watch him come. “You let me walk to you without shying back like a nervous filly. I’ve been watching you for a week. You back off from men, from fathers of kids or storekeepers.” He squatted on his haunches before her. “I’m here in front of you, and there’s wariness in your eyes, but no fear. Even with all he put you through, you know not all men are like him.”
His fingers were a hair’s breadth from hers.
“You said—go forward,” she choked.
He nodded. “It’s time, Tessa. The only way to go forward with our lives is to go back. We have to find out how your family did this to us, and how they managed to get away with it.”
Something inside her turned cold and dull. “I see.”
Jirrah saw the frozen darkness inside her, and knew he had the fight of his life on his hands, right here and now, to convince her he was right. “They destroyed our lives and got away with it. The only way to get our lives back is to take control.”
She bit her lip. “You want your name back.”
“I want my life back.” He got to his feet and paced the room, feeling like a caged tiger. “I want my name cleared. I want my builder’s license, and a driver’s license with my real name on it. I want a home loan, a credit card, to buy and register a dog, put money in the bank—to live my life in peace without worrying about the deranged lunatic obsessed with my wife.” Hearing her gasp, he turned to her with a wry smile. “You were right. We’re still married. I never divorced you.”
“Why not?” she whispered.
He saw the shaking she tried so hard to hide, and oh, God, it hurt. He wanted to hold her, give her the comfort he sensed she desperately needed; but a deep instinct told him she wasn’t ready for touch. He wasn’t sure he was, either, if his full-on hard reaction to her tending his cuts earlier was anything to go by. He’d better back off fast, unless of course he wanted to live in a permanent state of unfulfilled arousal, since it sure didn’t look like Tess was going to let him touch her in a hurry.
So he answered in as matter-of-fact a tone as he could manage. “I never got the chance. I was in lockup, then legally dead. Bit hard to do much when you’re dead, you know.”
She looked at her feet, scuffing her toe against a knot in the floorboard. “They must have tried to make you divorce me.”
“Not since my conviction. When I got out, all they wanted was for me to crawl in a hole and forget we were ever together.”
“I see.” She scuffed harder, kicking a chip out of the wood he’d never polished. “So you gave in. You went away, and left me with them.”
He knew he deserved the accusation in her voice—but he wasn’t ready to tell her the whole truth. “You married Beller only five weeks after I was arrested. I despised you for that. I was angry, bitter, and you betrayed me in the worst possible