Vengeful Shadows Page 3

  “I saw him,” Karen breathed. “I was at the mall, and I turned around. He was there. Standing right behind me. Smiling.” Her voice broke on that last word.

  Tessa couldn’t count the number of times she’d run into her attacker afterward. He’d show up at a party or worse a class—always smiling at her as if they shared some treasured secret. She’d wished him dead constantly, but he’d still turned up often enough to destroy any peace of mind she’d managed to achieve in the months following the assault. Not for the first time, she wondered if she would have chosen a less self-destructive path if he had stayed away from her. Half-remembered faces of nameless men surfaced in her mind, but she pushed away the memories of her attempts to exorcise her demons. That portion of her life was long past.

  She laid a tentative hand on Karen’s arm. “You can still report the assault to the police.”

  “Did you?” the girl shot back, her voice gaining strength. “Did you report yours?”

  Karen had her there. Tessa stifled a frustrated sigh.

  “He’s got an airtight alibi, and all of the evidence is gone,” Karen whispered. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.” She twisted a lock of her short, black hair around her finger. “Every time I turn around, I think I see him.”

  Goosebumps raced over Tessa’s skin. “Is he stalking you, or do you think this was a chance meeting?”

  “Usually, it’s my imagination. If something about a guy reminds me of him, I immediately see Blaine’s face.” She sank into Tessa’s desk chair.

  Tessa dropped to her knees at Karen’s side. “After extreme trauma, it’s not uncommon to hallucinate. It happened to me.”

  Something as simple as white sheets could trigger the image of a narrow, blood-spattered bed. It had been ten years, and she still refused to use anything but patterned bedding.

  “I thought I was imagining things again—at the mall—but then I heard his voice.” Karen visibly shuddered.

  “What did he say?”

  “That he couldn’t stop thinking about me. He wanted to know when we could get together again.”

  Anger tightened Tessa’s fists. Blaine was toying with Karen the way Tessa’s attacker had toyed with her. Sometimes, the work she did with the shelter raised more personal demons than it banished. Other times, like now, she could see just how far she’d come. Her own mentors had fostered much of her healing. She owed it to them to do the same for others.

  She knew she couldn’t change Karen’s past, but she could be here for her now. They talked until the Karen had to leave for class. Before she left, Tessa gave her an impulsive hug that the young woman gratefully returned.

  Karen made her way from the building to her vehicle. Her movements were rushed and jerky as she unlocked her car door, as if she expected the boogeyman to jump out and grab her. Bad analogy. Tessa rubbed the goose bumps that peppered her arms.

  Karen drove past the entrance, past Tessa’s car.

  Past the envelope pinned to Tessa’s windshield.

  Another note.

  Ice seeped through Tessa’s veins. Forcing herself to stay put, she finished her shift. After saying goodbye to Emily, she hurriedly gathered her belongings and punched out. Hand on the doorknob, she slowed to a more sedate pace as she exited the building. If the person who’d left the notes watched, she didn’t want to give the sicko the satisfaction of seeing her bout of nerves.

  Head held high, she walked to her car, casually removed the envelope and tossed it onto the passenger seat. It didn’t take much effort to pretend she didn’t care about the messages. Though her insides twisted with worry, she’d mastered the skill of feigned indifference after her assault. Her hard-won domination over the suffering she’d endured wasn’t up for grabs just because some sick bastard wanted to play games. She wouldn’t lose control of her emotions to anyone.

  Tessa took the long way home, turning down numerous side streets. She might pretend carelessness, but she wasn’t stupid. If the guy was disturbed enough to leave her notes, he might attempt to tail her. Of course, she was assuming her stalker was a man. She sighed and circled her block a few times. Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, she parked behind Zander’s black jeep.

  Zander. A sensation of comfort and safety settled around her when she thought of him. She shook her head. He was about as safe as a half-starved grizzly bear. He exuded the take-no-prisoners kind of confidence of a man accustomed to assessing a situation and doing whatever needed to be done. While she trusted he’d never hurt her, she couldn’t think straight around him. If nothing else, she’d learned to always keep up her guard—especially around men. She pushed away her idiotic desire to seek shelter in Zander’s arms and collected her belongings.

  Inside her apartment, she opened the third message.

  Don’t forget to wear my gift to the gallery tonight. I’ll be watching.

  How did this person know about Annie’s show?

  Okay, that’s it. Time to call the police.

  Tessa snatched her cell phone from her purse, and her finger hovered above the keypad. While this might be an emergency to her, it wouldn’t be in the eyes of the authorities. Grabbing the phonebook from the shelf, she paged through it until she found the general line for the Oakdale Police Department.

  Twenty minutes and several voicemail boxes later, she disconnected. Having wound her way through the voice activated labyrinth three times and leaving just as many messages, she’d given up. She’d have to bring the notes down to the station and hope someone would be there to file her complaint.

  In the meanwhile, she studied the message. Who the hell was it? Someone she’d come into contact with at the shelter or the library seemed most likely, but she couldn’t think of anyone in particular. She ran through a mental list of people who were aware of the showing and her friendship with Annie. The list was alarmingly short. Her co-workers, Annie’s family, her and Annie’s friend Cat, Aidan, the date who’d stood her up and, of course, Zander.

  She shook her head, annoyed at the direction her paranoia had taken. Like so many of the girls she mentored, she’d learned that trusting the wrong people could leave lifelong scars. Despite his appearance on her mental list, she knew Zander well enough to know he wasn’t a closet psychopath. She trusted him without reservation—a conviction she couldn’t explain, much less understand. She couldn’t rationalize the sense of security she felt when she was with him. Since the assault, no other man had ever warranted that level of certainty. Today, the feeling was stronger than ever.

  She grimaced. Only she would get warm-fuzzies about a guy who was so categorically wrong for her.

  Tessa glanced at the sheet of paper in her hand. It was possible, she supposed, that someone could have overheard her talking about the gallery opening. She couldn’t think of a time she’d discussed it when she hadn’t been in her empty office or her equally empty apartment, but it wasn’t impossible. She considered calling Annie to cancel, but she refused to let a stalker dictate to her. She’d go, but she wasn’t going alone. Normally, attending a function by herself wouldn’t be a problem, but the last note spooked her.

  She placed it in her satchel with the other one and checked the time. Zander ought to have dinner ready by now, and she could find out about his puzzling request. She smiled to herself. He didn’t know it, but he was going to an art show tonight.

  * * * *

  Zander opened his door and froze, shocked into momentary silence at the sight of Tessa. Waiting in the hallway, she still wore the simple, cream-colored dress she’d had on that morning but now, her hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves. He wanted to tangle his hands in the thick silk. The setting sun streamed through the cracked, stained glass window in the corridor and bathed her in its glow. Gold and green light suffused her, and she looked more angelic than ever. Radiant. Pure. Untouchable.

  “Hey,” the vision said.

  He had to clear his throat in order to speak. “Hey, yourself.”

  His gaze slid over he
r. The fading daylight outlined her figure through the fabric of her dress. Long and lithe, her body tantalized him with hints of shadowed lines and graceful curves. Teased him with glimpses of heaven he’d never experience.

  Frustration tugged at him. Maybe the theory that men and women could never be just friends was true. Sexual chemistry was always there to screw things up. He had no doubt that if he and Tessa acted on the attraction between them the sex would be phenomenal. Better than phenomenal. It would also end their friendship. At least, that’s what he told himself. Having a woman in his life whose companionship was more important than sex was confusing to say the least.

  She studied him silently for a moment. “So are we dining in the hall tonight?”

  He shook himself and stepped aside. “Sorry. I’m a little spaced out—work stress.” Technically, it was true. Only now, the situation had become much more complicated with her in the equation.

  “Is that what your Captain Cryptic routine was all about?” she asked as she walked past him and into the dining room. She surveyed the table before turning toward him, her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. “Okay, Zander. Spill it. What do you want?”

  “Who says I want anything? Can’t a guy make dinner for his friend?” It was clear from her stance that she wasn’t buying. It was one of the things he admired about her—her ability to cut through the bullshit.

  “Let’s see.” She tapped her chin as if deep in thought. He could tell she tried to squelch a smile. “You tell me that you need to talk to me, and when I get here, I find you’ve prepared all of my favorite foods. Coincidence? I think not.” She snagged a piece of baklava from the table.

  “I bought that. And it’s for dessert.”

  “Not anymore.” She bit into it and closed her eyes, making a low murmur of appreciation deep in her throat.

  His breath caught at the innocently erotic sound. Damn. He needed to relax. Thinking of her as a woman he’d consider dating, rather than as his friend, had heightened his already heightened awareness of her.

  The timer on the oven sounded. Grateful for the distraction, he went to remove the garlic bread. Without that opportune interruption, he still would have been staring at her when she opened her eyes, his thoughts painfully obvious.

  He returned with the bread and a bottle of wine. “Okay, I confess. I’m trying to bribe you.”

  She glanced around the table. “It must be big,” she said as she sat.

  Wishing there was another way out of his work predicament, he sank into the chair opposite her. “I need a girlfriend.”

  She laughed. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never had a problem in that area. What do you need me for?”

  “I don’t need a real girlfriend.”

  “Still confused.” She took a swallow of wine he’d poured.

  As he relayed his conversation with Monique, Tessa’s eyes flashed in anger. “What about that big study you did last year on serial offenders? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “Not to the people that matter.”

  “So because you’re not married or involved you’re not eligible? They can’t do that. That’s discrimination!”

  “That won’t be the official reason for denial,” Zander bit out. Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair. “They’ll blame it on lack of viable research or poor teaching skills.”

  “That’s insane!” Tessa thunked her glass on the table. Her anger on his behalf warmed him. “Why should your personal life be their business?”

  He didn’t try to hide his disgust. “In the aftermath of the sex-for-grades scandal and the dean’s public humiliation, the whole department has come under severe scrutiny.”

  “And a girlfriend or wife changes that how?” She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward, breathtaking in her intensity. “Sometimes the married ones are the worst.”

  “It’s all about appearances.”

  “What about Aidan?”

  “I don’t think that’s the kind of relationship the dean has in mind.”

  “Dork,” she muttered. “I mean, what about Aidan? He’s single, right?”

  What did Aidan have to do with anything? “He’s an adjunct.”

  “Meaning?” She’d raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together if trying not to smile.

  God, did he sound as jealous as he felt? He wasn’t jealous of Aidan. He just didn’t want Tessa getting mixed up with him. She deserved someone who could actually commit. If they got together she’d end up hurt and damned if he would let that happen.

  “As an adjunct prof, he’s under far less examination than the rest of us. He teaches part-time at the whim of the department chair.”

  “Does he teach somewhere else, too?”

  “Nope. He’s a crime scene photographer. He could do that fulltime if he needed to.”

  “But you don’t have that option.” It wasn’t a question. Understanding softened her expression. “Your fan club is making you look bad.”

  He shrugged. “They’re not helping.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Can you file a complaint or something?”

  Zander drained his glass, attempting to drown his futile anger. “I can appeal it but not until I’m officially passed over. Once they deny tenure, they don’t have to renew my contract, so I could very well be looking for a new job soon.”

  Lies and manipulation—he hated this subterfuge. Even worse, he had to ask for help. He’d rather confront the problem directly. As far as he could see, the only positive aspect was spending more time with Tessa.

  “So unless you marry preemptively, or at least get involved with someone, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Basically.” There was no chance in hell of a real relationship happening. Not after watching his brother fade until he was nothing more than the husk of the man he’d once been. If Niko hadn’t fallen in love, he wouldn’t have become an emotionless bastard after Julia had died.

  Tessa laid her hand over his and squeezed gently. Her worried gaze met his. “What else is the matter?”

  He knew his demeanor hadn’t changed, but she seemed to intuitively sense his turmoil. No matter how compassionate she was, he refused to share his burden. That wasn’t the kind of intimacy he wanted from her.

  Forcing a smile, he pushed away the memories and her worry. “Just frustrated.”

  She watched him a moment longer as if she didn’t quite believe him and waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, she continued. “Okay, you need a girlfriend. Let me think.” She pointed her fork at him. “Annie.”

  “What?”

  “I bet Annie would do it. She really wants you to model for her. You could trade services, so to speak.”

  He leaned back in his chair and studied his friend. She fidgeted slightly under his gaze. He tried not to think about how badly he wanted to touch her and, instead, focused on the situation at hand. “So if I take off my clothes for her she’ll pretend to be in love with me?”

  Tessa frowned. Before he could ask her about it, she brightened. “What about Cat? She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Isn’t she gay?”

  “Why should that matter? She just needs to pretend to be in love with you. Unless you were hoping for side benefits from this little charade?” Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she started to dial. “She can play straight. Trust me.”

  “No.” He reached across the table and grabbed her wrist.

  She raised her eyes to his, holding him suspended. If she were anyone else, he would have closed the distance between them and kissed her. Instead, he forced himself to remain seated.

  The words pushed their way through. He couldn’t stop from speaking them aloud or the stab of panic that accompanied them.

  “I want you.”

  Chapter Three

  Tessa’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t speak. Zander had said he wanted her—her greatest wish and her greatest fear. She took a deep breath and tried to
collect her thoughts. He didn’t really want her. He just wanted her help. There was a world of difference between the two.

  She met his gaze. He watched her intently, as if he could discover all her secrets. Getting involved, even marginally, with a criminal psychology teacher probably wasn’t her smartest move. Occasionally, he assisted local law enforcement officials as a profiler or as an expert witness. If he discovered what she hid, the only interest he’d have in her would be academic. But, she reassured herself, there was no chance of that. She wouldn’t let him get that close. She couldn’t risk it.

  He brushed his thumb across the wildly beating pulse in her wrist. The heat of his hand scorched her. Absently, she wondered if she’d have his imprint on her skin. She tugged from his grasp and set her phone on the table. “Why me?”

  “It’ll be more convincing. We’re friends. I barely know Annie or Cat.”

  “You barely know most of the women you date.” She hadn’t meant for that to sound as sulky as it did. Was she jealous? No. Of course not. It didn’t matter to her whom he dated. It wasn’t as though she hoped to be next in line. Well, part of her did—just not the realistic, practical part.

  His entreating gaze tugged at her, and she wondered if women ever refused him anything. She doubted it. She’d be a complete idiot to go along with this. Pretending to be lovers was bound to get messy or, at least, awkward.

  If his career weren’t so important to him, he never would have asked. He hated asking for help almost as much as she did. He was just more stubborn about it. If there had been another way around the situation, she was sure he would have taken it.

  “It’ll be fun,” he promised.

  She dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I know I’ll regret asking, but what do you need me to do?”