too
damaged for anyone else.
She should go back to Paris, wait for a job. But she didn't want to. She
wanted to see him. Stupid? Absolutely. Damon had no idea where she was.
But thinking he'd stopped looking for her would be foolish and dangerous.
And if he did ever find her, he'd make sure that whoever she cared about was
hurt.
She had learned a lesson with Mrs. Winston in Memphis. McKenna
had ignored everyone in the apartment complex, wanting to make sure she
caused no one problems. Mrs. Winston had been an elderly widow. One day
McKenna had come home to find the woman struggling to carry in groceries
and McKenna had carried them up for her. As a thank-you, the elderly lady
had baked her some cookies and brought them to McKenna's apartment.
That was it. She hadn't invited the woman into her apartment. She'd accepted
the gift and said thank you. Just as she was about to close the door, she'd
caught sight of Mrs. Winston's crestfallen expression. The elderly lady had
looked so eager to please and so lonely...a loneliness McKenna recognized
in herself. In a reckless moment she would forever regret, she had hugged
the old lady for her kindness. Then she had closed the door. That was it-that's all she had done.
70
Christy Reece
The next day Mrs. Winston was dead. The police and medical
examiner had ruled that she'd slipped on the stairs, fallen, and broken her
neck. The woman's death had saddened her; she'd been a nice old lady.
Never had she suspected anything else. Then the letter came.
Damon had made sure she knew who was responsible. He'd written
out a full confession. Admitting to the deed, but blaming her, of course.
McKenna hadn't bothered going to the police. What was the point? Damon
Hughes was supposed to be dead. Accusing a dead man of a murder would
be a sure way to get herself locked up.
Besides, they hadn't believed her years ago when she'd had physical
proof of Damon's evil; why would they believe her now? The bruises and
scars from months of abuse hadn't elicited anything from them other than
disgust and contempt. A few had looked at her like she'd put them there
herself, or at the very least like she deserved what she got. How could she
argue with that reasoning? In many ways, she had deserved them.
Wrapping her arms around herself, McKenna turned away. No, she
couldn't face Lucas. There was nothing she could give him. She would go
back to Paris and wait for a job.
"Don't go."
Lucas! She whirled around. He stood on the other side of the street, in
front of his home.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I looked out the window."
It shouldn't have been that easy. Had she stood here subconsciously,
hoping he would see her? That he would take the choice out of her hands?
She sure hadn't tried to hide. Was she setting herself up for a major
heartache? One she would never recover from? Having her heart broken
didn't concern her. Having Damon find out about her fascination for Lucas
frightened her more than anything she'd known since she'd lost her family. If
he hurt Lucas, she wouldn't survive it.
"I don't know why I'm here," she confessed.
"You don't have to have a reason to see a friend."
Her heart melted. Friend . It had been so long since she'd had one. "I
can't stay long."
He held out his hand. "Stay as long as you can."
Without consciously telling her body to move, she crossed the street.
It was as if he summoned her with just one lift of his hand. Not in command,
but in welcome.
When she reached him, she stood and let her eyes roam over his face.
It had been two weeks since she'd seen him. Somehow she thought he
71
Christy Reece
looked older, tired.
"It's good to see you again."
Silver-gray eyes gleamed as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"And you."
"Are you well?" she asked.
His smile, more glorious than any sunrise, brightened his face and
with it her soul. "I am now."
Her heart pounding with a multitude of emotions, McKenna took
damaged for anyone else.
She should go back to Paris, wait for a job. But she didn't want to. She
wanted to see him. Stupid? Absolutely. Damon had no idea where she was.
But thinking he'd stopped looking for her would be foolish and dangerous.
And if he did ever find her, he'd make sure that whoever she cared about was
hurt.
She had learned a lesson with Mrs. Winston in Memphis. McKenna
had ignored everyone in the apartment complex, wanting to make sure she
caused no one problems. Mrs. Winston had been an elderly widow. One day
McKenna had come home to find the woman struggling to carry in groceries
and McKenna had carried them up for her. As a thank-you, the elderly lady
had baked her some cookies and brought them to McKenna's apartment.
That was it. She hadn't invited the woman into her apartment. She'd accepted
the gift and said thank you. Just as she was about to close the door, she'd
caught sight of Mrs. Winston's crestfallen expression. The elderly lady had
looked so eager to please and so lonely...a loneliness McKenna recognized
in herself. In a reckless moment she would forever regret, she had hugged
the old lady for her kindness. Then she had closed the door. That was it-that's all she had done.
70
Christy Reece
The next day Mrs. Winston was dead. The police and medical
examiner had ruled that she'd slipped on the stairs, fallen, and broken her
neck. The woman's death had saddened her; she'd been a nice old lady.
Never had she suspected anything else. Then the letter came.
Damon had made sure she knew who was responsible. He'd written
out a full confession. Admitting to the deed, but blaming her, of course.
McKenna hadn't bothered going to the police. What was the point? Damon
Hughes was supposed to be dead. Accusing a dead man of a murder would
be a sure way to get herself locked up.
Besides, they hadn't believed her years ago when she'd had physical
proof of Damon's evil; why would they believe her now? The bruises and
scars from months of abuse hadn't elicited anything from them other than
disgust and contempt. A few had looked at her like she'd put them there
herself, or at the very least like she deserved what she got. How could she
argue with that reasoning? In many ways, she had deserved them.
Wrapping her arms around herself, McKenna turned away. No, she
couldn't face Lucas. There was nothing she could give him. She would go
back to Paris and wait for a job.
"Don't go."
Lucas! She whirled around. He stood on the other side of the street, in
front of his home.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I looked out the window."
It shouldn't have been that easy. Had she stood here subconsciously,
hoping he would see her? That he would take the choice out of her hands?
She sure hadn't tried to hide. Was she setting herself up for a major
heartache? One she would never recover from? Having her heart broken
didn't concern her. Having Damon find out about her fascination for Lucas
frightened her more than anything she'd known since she'd lost her family. If
he hurt Lucas, she wouldn't survive it.
"I don't know why I'm here," she confessed.
"You don't have to have a reason to see a friend."
Her heart melted. Friend . It had been so long since she'd had one. "I
can't stay long."
He held out his hand. "Stay as long as you can."
Without consciously telling her body to move, she crossed the street.
It was as if he summoned her with just one lift of his hand. Not in command,
but in welcome.
When she reached him, she stood and let her eyes roam over his face.
It had been two weeks since she'd seen him. Somehow she thought he
71
Christy Reece
looked older, tired.
"It's good to see you again."
Silver-gray eyes gleamed as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"And you."
"Are you well?" she asked.
His smile, more glorious than any sunrise, brightened his face and
with it her soul. "I am now."
Her heart pounding with a multitude of emotions, McKenna took
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