Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me #2)(42)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Lying? That whispered confession drove right through him. Anthony eased into the bed beside her. He slid his arm under her head and pulled her against him. She still fit him so perfectly. Better than anyone else ever had.

Because no one else seemed made for him. “I lie sometimes, too,” he confessed.

“Tell me your lies.”

She was awake, talking, in his arms. He’d tell her anything. “Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

He felt her start of surprise.

“Then why go?” Lauren asked.

A hard question. He’d been scared. He’d needed her too much. He’d worried she needed what he couldn’t give her. Instead of saying all that, he figured he should go back. Start at the beginning. His nightmare. “You never asked me about my family.”

Her head pressed down onto his shoulder. “Not a lot of time for family talk during all the sex fests.”

They’d been some pretty awesome sex fests. As soon as she was better, he’d be on her again.

His c**k was swollen and hard right then with need for her, but he was holding back. He’d be what she needed tonight.

“When my parents were happy, when they were getting along, you could almost see the love between them. It was so strong.” During those times, things had been good. Close to perfect. “But when they weren’t happy…” Those times when his dad’s anger had burst free… “I didn’t think anything could be closer to hell.”

He’d been wrong about that, though. When Lauren had vanished, he’d been given a fast trip to hell.

“My dad would get jealous. If my mom talked to another guy, if she was even five minutes late arriving home, he’d swear she was cheating on him.”

Lauren was silent in his arms.

“She was his obsession.” That was what it had been. He realized it now. It wasn’t love. It was an obsession.

“This story doesn’t end well, does it?” she whispered.

Stories like his never did. “I don’t know if she’d been cheating on him all along—if his worries were real—or if the jealousy actually drove her to another man.” He’d been thirteen at the time, and too grief stricken to focus on the whys. “But when my father found out she was going to leave him, he snapped.”

Lauren was silent. Her breath came in fast puffs that hit lightly over his skin.

“He wasn’t going to let her go. If he couldn’t have her, no one else would.”

He’d walked home from school and found a bloodbath. His mother, dead. A shotgun blast to the chest. After he’d killed her, his father had put the shotgun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.

“I’m so sorry, Anthony.”

He wasn’t telling the story for pity.

“My mom loved me,” he said with painful pride. His father might have been a twisted SOB, but his mother had always cared about him. Always. “When the police searched her car, they found bags packed. One for her. One for me.” She’d planned to get them both away.

Only the police believed that his father had come home and found her packing.

“He couldn’t let her go, and in the end, he wound up being the most dangerous thing in her life.” It hadn’t started that way, though. He’d seen the wedding pictures. Seen the happy smiles. He did remember them being happy. There had been fun birthday parties, family dinners at Christmas.

But obsessions could twist over time. Become so very deadly.

“I’m sorry you found them.” Her voice was low. Hesitant. “No child should ever see that.”

There were plenty of things children should never see. “You asked me why I left you.” He realized his fingers were making light circles on her palm. He couldn’t stop. With her, that had always been his problem. Can’t stop. Need too much. “I wanted you, so damn badly, all the time.”

Her palm was soft and still beneath his fingers.

“I wanted you to myself. I wanted you away from any other man out there.” To be truthful, he still did. But his control was better now than five years ago. “You were becoming my obsession, and I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay here and turn out like him.”

She straightened quickly, nearly clipping him in the chin with her head. She turned to stare at him. “That’s crazy! You aren’t your father!”

“I want you with the same consuming need that he felt for her. The way I feel about you—it’s not easy and light. It’s dark and dangerous.” Consuming.

“Just because you want someone badly,” she said, her voice husky, “doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“If I’d had my way, I would have been in you every minute of the day.”

Her eyes widened.

“My emotions with you are too strong. Call bullshit if you want”—though it wasn’t—“but I wouldn’t risk you.”

“So you left me.”

He’d left, but had been helplessly drawn back. “It was supposed to just be sex between us, right? You didn’t sign on for an obsession. We were fire behind closed doors, ice in public. I was starting to rage out of control, and you were trying to keep a wall between us.”

Lauren flinched. “I was trying the case. I never meant to be…ice.”

“Shit, baby, I didn’t—”

“I know I have…trouble, okay? I can’t connect easily with other people. Even the ones who matter.” Her lashes lowered to shield her gaze. “I don’t let people in and I don’t share my feelings or my past. I don’t know how to change that.”

One thing bothered him…I don’t share my feelings or my past. Paul sure seemed to know plenty about her past.

There’s the jealousy again. Dark, insidious, creeping.

“I think I stopped letting people get close after Jenny vanished,” she whispered. “My parents fell apart. They hurt so much. I hurt. The pain was an ache in my chest. Constant ache. A part of me was just…gone.”

“Tell me what happened to her.” The time for secrets was gone. They were both baring their pasts in the dark, and he knew that after this, things would never be the same between them.

The emotions charging the air were too raw and powerful.

“She was sixteen when she vanished. Just sixteen.” She blinked quickly, trying to get rid of the tears blooming in her eyes. “She’d gotten her driver’s license the week before, and she was so proud to be driving to school.” A ghost of a smile lifted her lips. “She failed the driver’s test two times, but the third try was the charm. At least, that’s what Mom said. ‘Third time’s the charm.’”