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She fumbled, couldn’t work the latch, and discovered her breath was coming in short gasps.

You let him touch you, didn’t you? Whore.

She hunched her shoulders automatically against a blow that didn’t come.

Did you think I wouldn’t know? Did you think you could cuckold me in my own house? You, with your innocent face and fancy Southern manners. Nothing but a slut.

Shaking, she backed slowly away from the window. Her eyes darted around the room, searching corners. There was no one there. But how could she hear the voice so clearly in her head?

Know this. You’ll never leave me. I’ll see you dead first.

You don’t love me, Cassie wanted to say. You despise me. Let me go. But the words wouldn’t come.

I’ll kill you both. Remember that. Till death do us part. And death is your only escape.

“Cassie.”

On a strangled shriek, she spun around. Devin was just inside the door, his eyes narrowed in concern. Without a thought, she ran into his arms.

“Devin. Devin, you have to go. Go quickly, before he sees you. He’s going to kill you.”

“What are you talking about? God, you’re shaking like a leaf. It’s freezing in here.”

“You feel it?” Her teeth were all but chattering as she drew back. “You can feel it?”

“Sure I can. It’s like an icebox.” He rubbed her hands in his to warm them.

“I thought it was Joe. I swear I saw his fist coming toward me, and then—” The room spun; her knees buckled. The dizziness lasted only an instant, but she was already up in Devin’s arms. “I’m all right. It’s gone.”

The room was warm again, sunny and bright, with the scent of roses and polish. Very gently, he laid her down on the soft leather sofa. “Let me get you some water.”

“No, I’m all right.” She thought she might jump out of her skin if he left her alone there. “It’s just this room.” She steadied herself, sat up. “I thought it was Joe, but it wasn’t. It was Barlow.”

She was still too pale, Devin thought, but her eyes had cleared. His heart had dropped to his knees when he’d seen them roll back in her head. “Has this happened before?”

“Not like this. Not this strong. I’m never very comfortable in this room. Even his bedroom is easier. But this time, I heard… You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.”

“No, I won’t.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

“All right.” She blew out a breath. “I heard him talking, in my head, I think. It sounded so much like Joe—the tone, the meanness in it. He called me—her—a whore, a slut. He knew she was in love with someone else, but he wasn’t going to let her go, ever. He said he’d kill her first, kill both of them.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s go upstairs.”

“I haven’t finished—”

“Leave it, Cassie. Just leave it.” He would have carried her, but she got to her feet. Still, her hand reached for his. “The other day, when you were talking to the old ladies?”

“Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Berman, yes.”

“You talked about Abigail being in love with someone. I thought you’d made it up, to add a little romance to the story.”

“No. I can’t explain it, Devin. I just know it’s true. I saw him.”

He paused at the back stairs that led up to her apartment. “You saw who?”

“The man she loved. I was in her room, and then I looked and he was at the door. He was looking right at me, talking to me as if I were Abigail. I could feel her there. Her heart was broken, but she let him go. Made him go. Devin…Devin, I think she killed herself.”

He sat her down in a chair in her living room. “Why do you think that?”


Tags: Nora Roberts The MacKade Brothers Romance