"Does Jimmy know?"
"I told him this afternoon." He turned to her once more, taking her hands in his. "Now can you see why we need to leave here? Tonight? After tomorrow I can track this actor down, take all the time in the world–but until then–"
"You're not safe here," she finished for him. "You need to go to the Lake," she continued, nodding as if explaining that two plus two made four, as if it were that simple for a man to turn tail and run, abandoning her.
He shook his head. "No. We have to go. I am not going to leave you here."
"I can't go," she said in that firm way of hers that broached no argument.
He inhaled, the air searing through his lungs as hot as the anger threatening to spill over onto her. Damn Spanos for putting him in this position. And Hart, who gave so much to perfect strangers—why couldn't she give him this one thing? "Why not? What's so important that you can't leave for a few days–if only to give me some peace of mind? I've seen you put your life at risk to help a friend or a patient. Why can't you do this for me?"
"I want to. Believe me, I wish I could, but I need to–"
"No but, just do it!" Her eyes hardened at his impervious tone. He forced himself to soften his voice. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Might as well ask why the sky was blue. It just was. Nothing he did would ever change it. Or Hart.
But he needed her to see reason. He grabbed her wrists. "Goddamn it, Hart! This is not a game. I mean it. Get your things. We're going, now!"
Her eyes blazed at that and she broke his grip with a quick movement. "Get your hands off me!"
God, how could he be so stupid? Laying hands on her when he was angry. After what she'd been through with King…
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
She wouldn't look at him. Her eyes focused on his hands, her body shifted automatically into a defensive stance. As if he could ever, would ever hurt her.
He sucked his breath in, blinked against an angry burning that blurred his vision. "I have to go. If you–" He shied away from the L word, afraid it would push her farther away. "If you care at all for me, if you want to help me, you'll come too."
For a split second he thought she would change her mind, come with him. She still wouldn't meet his eyes, stared down at the floor, head bowed, hair curtaining her face, an impenetrable shroud.
"I'm sorry. I can't–"
Pain and anger drove him out the door before she could finish. But what kept him from turning back was pure fear.
Blood swirled through his vision as the images his stalker planted in his mind played in a macabre slideshow. Pamela dead. Drake dead. But the one image he couldn't let go of, that made him so dizzy he almost tripped down the steps, was the one his own imagination created: Hart dead.
If he stayed, she was in danger.
He had no choice. He had to go. His stalker would follow him. It was the only way to keep her safe.
CHAPTER 12
Cassie watched in disbelief as the door slammed behind Drake. He was leaving her. Just like that. No chance for her to get a word in edgewise and he was out the door.
Her own face, enhanced by Drake's talent, looked back at her from every corner of the studio. If it had been her reflection in mirrors she would have gleefully shattered them all. But they were Drake's vision, the product of his talent, and Cassie couldn't vent her fury on them.
She ran from the studio to the front window in the living room just in time to see Drake's Mustang fishtail its way out of the parking lot. She crossed into the bedroom to watch the twin taillights run the stop sign at the end of the street, then lost them in the lights of the city.
Should have found a way to explain, to make him understand why she couldn't leave.
But he hadn't given her a chance, had he? And when he grabbed her, she'd let her own anger and fear take over. She sank onto his bed, hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes ached as if she should be crying but no tears came. The high
"I told him this afternoon." He turned to her once more, taking her hands in his. "Now can you see why we need to leave here? Tonight? After tomorrow I can track this actor down, take all the time in the world–but until then–"
"You're not safe here," she finished for him. "You need to go to the Lake," she continued, nodding as if explaining that two plus two made four, as if it were that simple for a man to turn tail and run, abandoning her.
He shook his head. "No. We have to go. I am not going to leave you here."
"I can't go," she said in that firm way of hers that broached no argument.
He inhaled, the air searing through his lungs as hot as the anger threatening to spill over onto her. Damn Spanos for putting him in this position. And Hart, who gave so much to perfect strangers—why couldn't she give him this one thing? "Why not? What's so important that you can't leave for a few days–if only to give me some peace of mind? I've seen you put your life at risk to help a friend or a patient. Why can't you do this for me?"
"I want to. Believe me, I wish I could, but I need to–"
"No but, just do it!" Her eyes hardened at his impervious tone. He forced himself to soften his voice. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Might as well ask why the sky was blue. It just was. Nothing he did would ever change it. Or Hart.
But he needed her to see reason. He grabbed her wrists. "Goddamn it, Hart! This is not a game. I mean it. Get your things. We're going, now!"
Her eyes blazed at that and she broke his grip with a quick movement. "Get your hands off me!"
God, how could he be so stupid? Laying hands on her when he was angry. After what she'd been through with King…
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
She wouldn't look at him. Her eyes focused on his hands, her body shifted automatically into a defensive stance. As if he could ever, would ever hurt her.
He sucked his breath in, blinked against an angry burning that blurred his vision. "I have to go. If you–" He shied away from the L word, afraid it would push her farther away. "If you care at all for me, if you want to help me, you'll come too."
For a split second he thought she would change her mind, come with him. She still wouldn't meet his eyes, stared down at the floor, head bowed, hair curtaining her face, an impenetrable shroud.
"I'm sorry. I can't–"
Pain and anger drove him out the door before she could finish. But what kept him from turning back was pure fear.
Blood swirled through his vision as the images his stalker planted in his mind played in a macabre slideshow. Pamela dead. Drake dead. But the one image he couldn't let go of, that made him so dizzy he almost tripped down the steps, was the one his own imagination created: Hart dead.
If he stayed, she was in danger.
He had no choice. He had to go. His stalker would follow him. It was the only way to keep her safe.
CHAPTER 12
Cassie watched in disbelief as the door slammed behind Drake. He was leaving her. Just like that. No chance for her to get a word in edgewise and he was out the door.
Her own face, enhanced by Drake's talent, looked back at her from every corner of the studio. If it had been her reflection in mirrors she would have gleefully shattered them all. But they were Drake's vision, the product of his talent, and Cassie couldn't vent her fury on them.
She ran from the studio to the front window in the living room just in time to see Drake's Mustang fishtail its way out of the parking lot. She crossed into the bedroom to watch the twin taillights run the stop sign at the end of the street, then lost them in the lights of the city.
Should have found a way to explain, to make him understand why she couldn't leave.
But he hadn't given her a chance, had he? And when he grabbed her, she'd let her own anger and fear take over. She sank onto his bed, hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes ached as if she should be crying but no tears came. The high
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