Thin Ice (35 page)

"You won't make it to court, Ryan. You don't have a case."

"You won't make it to court, Ryan. You don't have a case."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm getting married soon. It won't take much to convince a judge Robbie wil be far better off living with Catherine and myself than with his promiscuous absentee mother.

With us he'l have a stable home environment, financial security, two loving parents..."

"Over my dead body."

"Suit yourself."

She shivered in the silence that folowed. A put-upon sigh came across the line. “You know, Emily, there is a way to avoid al this unpleasantness. I believe I mentioned it the other night,” he said, as if he'd bought her a drink instead of slammed her around the parking lot. “Al you have to do is ditch Cameron."

"And if I don't?"

"You'l lose Robbie. Between Catherine's connections and mine, you won't be able to find a judge in this town who'l let you keep a dog, much less my son. Count on it."

Ryan apparently interpreted her silence as defeat. His voice came across the line, smug with victory. “So remember, Emmie, I'l be watching you. Just like today."

"You were watching me?"

"Of course. Wel, not me personaly, but you never know. Would

"Of course. Wel, not me personaly, but you never know. Would you like to see the pictures? At least you had enough sense not to kiss him this time."

Emily couldn't speak. Oblivious to her stunned silence, Ryan rambled on. “I wanted to make sure you took my advice. But you didn't, and now I'm caling to remind you to get rid of your lover ...

or I'l make sure you end up having to make an appointment six months in advance to see your precious son."

"Damn it, Ryan. You've no right to spy on me, to tel me who I can and can't—"

"Think again, cunt. I'm the boy's father. It's my duty to protect him from your moral corruption. See Cameron again and I'l serve you with a custody suit before you can hit the sheets."

"Fine,” Emily snapped. File a dozen lawsuits if you want to. I'l file a dozen right back. Robbie's mine, you miserable bastard!"

She slammed the receiver down so hard it cracked the plastic casing. Not three seconds later the phone rang again. Emily glared at it, ready to rip it from the wal and throw it across the room.

Instead she unplugged the answering machine, silenced the telephone's ringer, did the same to the phone in her bedroom, and headed for the shower.

She felt unclean just talking to Ryan Montgomery.

* * * *

* * * *

The house was pitch dark. Dressed in her robe and slippers, Emily drifted from the back door to the front, checking the locks, regretting her loss of control with Ryan. Chalenging him had not been in her best interests, but the idea that he'd actualy had someone take pictures of her today had been too much. She felt violated, furious and frightened al at once. Was that same someone out there, even now?

She needed to reassure herself that the house was locked tight. She wouldn't put it past Ryan to retaliate somehow for hanging up on him. But for that, she was sure he'd come himself.

She was checking the front door when she heard the low-pitched rumble of a car engine moving slowly down the street. She stiled, then cocked her head to listen.

The rumble drew closer, stopped. She peered through the front window and saw a dark, low-slung sports car parked in front of the house. Her heart filed with dread.

Ryan. Bold as brass, he'd come in his own car this time.

Fear and adrenaline coursed through her as she watched him step out of the car. She glanced up the steps to where Robbie slept and vowed Ryan Montgomery would have a hel of a fight on his hands if he tried to get past her.

It wasn't until she recognized the man's fluid stride that she realized It wasn't until she recognized the man's fluid stride that she realized her late night visitor wasn't Ryan. It was Eric.

Relief barely had a chance to put in an appearance before her fear took on a new shape. She had to get rid of him. What if someone was watching the house? Worse yet, what if Ryan drove by and saw Eric's car?

There was no teling what he might do. But if the two came face to face, by morning Eric might very wel be in jail again.

She couldn't let that happen.

She flipped the deadbolt, stepped onto the porch, and shut the door behind her. Eric halted in surprise. His dark eyes scanned her damp, tousled hair, robe and slippered feet. He studied her a moment longer, then joined her on the porch. His clean, masculine scent tempted her to reach out to him, to hold him close for just a moment, to draw on his strength for the courage to handle whatever Ryan threw her way, but she didn't dare. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"This isn't a good time, Eric."

His gaze scanned her robe again, lingered on the bit of lace that peeked out from beneath her deep V-colar, before he looked over peeked out from beneath her deep V-colar, before he looked over her shoulder at the unlit house. “Are you alone?"

She took umbrage. “Of course I am."

"Then mind if we go inside?"

"Robbie's sleeping. I don't want him waking up to find you paying another middle-of-the-night visit."

"That's not the problem, Emily, and we both know it."

"Why are you here, Eric? I thought I made it clear—"

"I'm here because you unplugged the damned phone again!” He mowed a hand through his hair and stared at her, his eyes dark with pain. “Why, Emily? What's going on? Is someone harassing you?"

"It's not your affair."

"The hel it isn't. Something happened to you while I was gone, something I'm being punished for—"

"Punished for...?"

"You wouldn't cal ending our relationship a punishment?"

"Eric, our relationship was over before it began. You made it clear from the beginning—"

"That I was leaving? Are we back to that again? Wel get this, Dr.

"That I was leaving? Are we back to that again? Wel get this, Dr.

Jordan. You weren't the only one who did some thinking about us while I was gone. In fact, I hardly thought about anything else. I'm surprised I played as wel as I did, because you were with me everywhere, Emily, and I mean everywhere. I knew then there was no way I could leave you and Robbie behind this summer. I'm staying here."

"But—"

"But nothing, Emily. You and Robbie mean too much to me."

"Oh, no,” she moaned softly.

"Oh, no? For God's sake, woman! I thought you'd be happy about it. Wasn't that the problem? My being gone when you needed me?"

She re-crossed her arms and stared at her feet. The time had come for a few home truths. If Eric stayed in Minneapolis, she'd find it impossible to stay away from him, and until she found a way to get Ryan off her back she had to do just that. Too much was at stake

—for both of them.

"No. That's not the problem."

"Then please tel me what the problem is, Emily. I'm going crazy, wondering how to make things right between us."

She looked up at him, her eyes and voice flat. “You can't."

"Why the hell not?"

His rising frustration gave her the weapon she needed. Hating herself, she used it like a knife. “Look at yourself and you'l have the answer. You're ready to explode."

"Oh, for the love of—how many times are we going to have to—"

She interrupted, holding up a hand. “You asked the question, Eric, I'm giving my answer. Do you remember what you said this afternoon when I told you violence wasn't the answer?"

"Emily, I was wrong to answer the way I did, but I was angry, and

—"

"Anger's no excuse, Eric. I was married to a man who tried to convince me it was. He also tried to convince me his anger was my fault. He also agreed that violence can be a ‘pretty persuasive tactic’ at times. He used it to persuade me to suppress my thoughts, feelings and desires, to convince me I was no good as a wife or woman and never would be, to undermine my determination to become a doctor, to—"

"Your husband hit you?"

"Hit me, kicked me, beat me, slapped me around for fun, and tried to run over me with his car. During the course of three years, he broke my jaw twice, both of my arms, several ribs, dislocated my shoulder and in general left me perpetualy bruised and sore, shoulder and in general left me perpetualy bruised and sore, physicaly and emotionaly.

"Somehow he convinced me al of this was no more than I deserved, and I put up with it until I found out I was pregnant. After that, I knew there was no way on God's green earth I would stand for his ‘persuasive tactics’ any longer."

Eric's expression was one of stunned horror. “Emily, I never meant I would use violence against you—"

"Are you saying you'd never hit a woman?"

"Of course not!"

She plunged the knife deeper. “What about your ex-wife?"

His face went ashen. “Monica?"

"Is that her name? The woman you beat so badly she had to be hospitalized?"

The silence between them was deafening. “It's not what you think, Emily,” Eric finaly said quietly. “I never hit Monica. Ever."

She knew he was teling the truth, and it broke her heart. But she had to think of Robbie. She had to think of Eric. Ryan's viciousness would no know bounds if she didn't end this now.

"Newspapers aren't in the business of publishing fiction, Eric. Are you teling me they lied about her condition?"

you teling me they lied about her condition?"

"No. Her injuries were real."

"And just what were they?"

"Multiple contusions, a broken wrist, a fractured jaw and four cracked ribs,” he said flatly.

Emily spun away, knowing if she didn't, she'd reach out to him, Ryan be damned. She braced her hands on the porch railing and stared out into the yard, trembling.

His voice was soft and ful of quiet dignity behind her. “I didn't do it, Emily."

Oh, Eric, I know you didn't. But I have to protect my son. I have to protect you. She couldn't bear the thought of the media coming after him like vultures, picking apart this sweet and gentle man's past and condemning him anew for a crime he hadn't committed. She straightened and hugged herself tightly, blinking back her tears. “I understand she pressed charges."

"She dropped them three weeks later."

"After you bought her off with a substantial divorce settlement."

"Yes, I gave her money. Everything I had at the time. But not for the reasons you think."

"What I think doesn't matter. The fact is it happened."

"You don't understand—"

She whirled on him. “I understand plenty, Eric. I've been there."

Nothing she could have said could have hurt him more. Stricken, Eric felt tears burn the backs of his eyes. He looked away and struggled to get a grip on his emotions. When he spoke, it was with a quiet conviction that came from deep within.

"I'm truly sorry about your marriage, Emily. But it has nothing to do with me or mine. I'm not your ex-husband, and I'm not the bastard who ... who...” He looked at her then, his eyes dark and intense.

“Emily, by now you have to know I'd never lay a hand on you or Robbie in anger."

Slowly, she shook her head. “People change, Eric. I've ... been burned before.” She swalowed, clearly struggling for composure. “I can't take the chance of that happening again."

He knew then that he'd lost her. Her trust in him had been shattered, and the wet, wounded look in her eyes told him it hurt her as much as it hurt him. She bowed her head, and it took everything he had not to reach out to her, to comfort her—to comfort himself.

"I'm sorry, Eric."

Her whispered apology couldn't begin to ease his pain, to hold back the dark, vast emptiness seeping into his soul. He looked down at her bent head and ached to touch her one last time. To beg her to let him explain. To promise her anything if she'd give him just one more chance.

Instead he jammed his fists into his jacket pockets.

"So am I,” he said quietly, and left.

Emily awoke exhausted and on edge. She'd spent the night listening for the sound of cars on the street. She hadn't been able to shake the thought that Ryan might pay her a visit after al. Or that Eric might return and, this time, she wouldn't have the strength to send him away again.

It had nearly kiled her to watch him return to his car, knowing he was hurting as much as she. She'd gone inside, then stood with her forehead against the front door for what had felt like forever before she'd heard him start the engine and slowly pul away. The long delay, more than anything else, had told her just how badly she'd wounded him.

Over breakfast, she and Robbie fought. St. Stephen's was closed for Good Friday and Robbie wanted to go to the park with Glen.

Emily refused. Until she could be sure Ryan was out of the picture, Emily refused. Until she could be sure Ryan was out of the picture, she was determined to keep Robbie in sight.

She'd caled Miguel Sandoval that morning to tel him about Ryan's renewed threats. She was grateful when he understood about losing her temper the night before, but became unnerved when he told her to keep Robbie inside until he could send someone over to check out the neighborhood.

The mother-son battle raged for almost half an hour before Robbie stormed into his room and slammed the door behind him. Emily let him go, since it would be the safest place for him. When Robbie emerged an hour later, Emily was lying on the living room couch, trying to read. At the bottom of the steps, he spotted her and paused. Clearly he'd hoped to slip outside unseen.