The Callahan's: Secret Sins Part 20

"Do you intend to get any answers?"

"I do," Crowe said as Amelia turned and moved for the door.

Crowe stopped her. The second he gripped her upper arm she froze, as though something had sucked every iota of energy from her body. "Excuse us, if you will."

He all but dragged Amelia from the kitchen as Archer breathed out roughly, almost regretting the fact that he'd allowed the other man to remove her from his ire.

Anna had been crying. Someone had made his Anna cry, and that just p.i.s.sed him the f.u.c.k off.

Moving to the stairs, he strode up them quickly and within seconds entered the bedroom.

The sight of her against the wall, Oscar cuddled against her side as she covered her face and sobbed, broke his heart.

Hunching down in front of her he grabbed two tissues from the table next to the bed and handed them to her.

Taking them, she held them to her face but the sobs didn't stop.

"Come on, baby," he said softly. "It's just Amelia. You two will make up in a few days and everything will be fine. Right?"

Wasn't that what girlfriends did? They fought, they cried, then they made up.

She shook her head fiercely.

"Come on, it's not like she killed my cat," he tried to joke. "She's your friend."

She shook her head again, though the sobs were easing.

"Anna, talk to me, at least," he urged her. "Tell me what she did. Maybe I can even arrest her for it."

She didn't laugh, and he really needed to see her laugh.

Instead, she blew her nose delicately before lowering the tissues and staring back at him miserably.

"She's like my family," she said tearfully. "She said the Callahans should give up everything they love and have fought for, because of a madman. I should give up everything I love and need, because of some b.a.s.t.a.r.d who doesn't want me here," she cried, her voice low now. "But you know, Archer, at least she came here..." Her breathing hitched again. "She came. My family couldn't even come to me with the truth. They couldn't trust me. They couldn't love me. They just threw me away to give in to a killer, rather than telling me anything, explaining anything, or even giving me a chance."

The tears were still falling. They were still breaking his heart, and Archer was d.a.m.ned if he knew how to ease the pain he could see s.h.i.+mmering in those pretty green eyes.

It was the pain of betrayal, the pain of desertion and separation, and he had no idea how to fix it.

"You know why..." h.e.l.l, he had no idea what to say to her. "They love you enough to do without you to keep you safe."

Anger flashed in her eyes again.

Carefully setting Oscar aside, she rose to her feet. Straightening with her, Archer watched as she paced across the room before turning back to him.

"You wanted me before you ever touched me at the weekend social that night, didn't you?" It felt like an accusation.

"You know I did," he said, though he wondered for a second if he should have broken his number one rule where lovers were concerned and lied to her.

"But you wouldn't have done anything about it if I hadn't teased you into touching me that night. I wouldn't be here right now, would I? You wouldn't have tried to contact me or come looking for me, would you, Archer?"

h.e.l.l, yes, he should have lied to her.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he breathed out roughly. "I don't know, Anna," he finally sighed, opting for honesty. "I wanted you, and I wanted you bad. But as long as you weren't here, I could ignore it."

Anna turned away from him.

She could feel the anger burning inside her to such a degree that she felt it would sear her soul to ashes.

Didn't anyone want her?

It didn't make sense.

She wasn't a hateful person, nor was she a complete hag. She didn't think she was someone to be embarra.s.sed over, but maybe she was wrong.

She wanted to scream.

The ache in her stomach was so deep, so spiraling, she could barely stand it. It physically cramped her muscles and had her wanting to reach for her stomach to hold the pain back.

She had to breathe in deep. She had to fight back the same burning anger toward Archer that she'd felt toward Amelia earlier.

She hated losing her temper with Amelia, because as wrong as she had been-and Anna did believe she was wrong-still, Anna knew she had said what she had out of fear and worry.

That didn't mean she deserved an apology, but if she went off on Archer, then she would definitely be eating crow later, and she so did not like the taste of crow.

She breathed in deep.

"Anna, I've always known you'd come home eventually," he finally said.

But she hadn't been good enough to come looking for.

All those years she'd sat and stared into the darkness, wondering, questioning, trying to make sense of why her own family didn't want her, and she'd never thought to question why Archer hadn't even called to say h.e.l.lo.

"I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't have just gone to France." She gave a bitter little laugh. "At least someone there wanted me."

It hadn't been her family. It hadn't been those she considered friends.

It had just been a company, but Anna knew the family that owned it and she knew how tight-knit and close that family was. They wouldn't have left her out in the cold after moving there. h.e.l.l, all she'd had to do was look out for Jacques' wandering hands and medieval att.i.tude.

Why hadn't she at least tried it? She could have just hit Jacques with a bat or something. He would have kept his hands to himself after that. Right?

Because she wanted to be home.

"Crowe should change his mind about spanking her a.s.s for being such a d.a.m.ned busybody. The little wench doesn't deserve it," Archer growled behind her.

Anna flipped around in shock. "You would have him abuse her? Crowe would actually dare something like that?"

His brow lifted. "Abuse her? I didn't say he should abuse her. I said he should rethink spanking her."

"He wouldn't dare hurt her. And there's no difference between spanking her and abusing her?"

"Of course there is," he a.s.sured her mockingly. "One she wouldn't enjoy, one she would definitely enjoy after the initial nervousness."

"You're crazy!" she cried. "No woman enjoys being abused, Archer."

He snorted at that. "Perhaps I'll show you differently one of these days."

"I highly doubt it," she promised him. "I'm moving out of this room. I'll be out of the house come morning. Because I'll be d.a.m.ned if I want to stay someplace else where I wasn't wanted to begin with."

CHAPTER 13.

She'd already emptied the dresser of her frilly stuff and thrown her folded jeans to the floor by the chair. She didn't have a lot of clothes with her, just the ones she'd managed to stuff into that bag she stole from her own bedroom and the few things she'd bought from Goodwill.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h, Archer hadn't even been able to convince John Corbin or her parents to pack some of her clothes and bring them to him. And he hadn't been able to make time to take her shopping, either.

He intended to rectify that soon.

Very d.a.m.ned soon.

But first, he had to do something about the pain surging through her, and her belief that she wasn't wanted by anyone in her life that she cared about.

The fact that he was adding to that pain p.i.s.sed him the f.u.c.k off.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h, she had such a tender heart, and such a pure, gentle nature. That tender heart and gentle nature were being tromped on, though. It didn't sit so well with him that he was helping to do it, either.

As bad as he felt about it, he didn't feel bad enough to give in and let her leave him. The minute she was no longer under his protection, then he was terrified she would no longer be safe, either. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was threatening John Corbin nearly nightly, and Archer had received a note or two himself.

He'd ignored them. Just as he ignored the threats Corbin had been given. For whatever reason, they couldn't strike out at Anna yet. But Archer intended to be there when they decided to do it.

He would be there, and he'd kill them.

Staring at her a moment longer, he closed the bedroom door, then propped his hands on his hips and watched as Anna tossed clothes from the closet to the recliner in the corner.

The pretty summer dresses he'd hoped to get to see her in, a few rather short skirts he'd wondered if he could bear to let her out in public in.

Those skirts would have made his d.i.c.k harder than h.e.l.l. Just the thought of her wearing those skirts and what it would do for those fine legs made his d.i.c.k harder than h.e.l.l.

To get a chance to see her in those skirts, though, he was going to have to keep her safe. And he was going to have to keep her with him.

With him, or with someone he knew who could protect her even better than he and Crowe had arranged to protect her.

The large black suitcase she'd gotten at Goodwill was thrown from the closet next, winging its way several feet past the closet door. That surprised him, considering its size. He wouldn't have expected it to go quite so far.

But enough was enough. She wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't about to let her fool herself into believing she might actually make it out of the house.

That just didn't seem exactly fair for some reason.

"You're not leaving, Anna. You know d.a.m.ned good and well it's not safe, just as you know the protective measures we have in place aren't going to work near as well if you're living anywhere else. Stop pretending otherwise."

"I wasn't the one pretending!" Outrage and hurt filled her voice, but they also filled her wounded green eyes as she turned back to glare at him with hurt-filled anger.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h, those expressive, sea-green eyes just never failed to make him feel like a b.a.s.t.a.r.d or a G.o.d among men, whichever mood she happened be in, or however he'd managed to p.r.i.c.k her delicate feminine feelings.

Not that he'd ever meant to p.r.i.c.k her feelings, but he'd also not known she believed herself to be in love with him.

It had been a crush, he'd always told himself. A schoolgirl's crush, nothing more, and nothing to worry about. She would get over it.

She was moving for the chest now. It was time to put a stop to this c.r.a.p before she threw out all that silk and lace she called panties and bras.

Striding across the room, he picked up the suitcase, jerked the closet door open, and shoved it back inside amid an outrageous amount of sneakers, sandals, and wicked high heels.

That was the only thing he'd seen her splurge on. That d.a.m.ned yard sale she'd heard of and had to attend the evening before. He swore she'd bought every pair of shoes there that she could wear.

"Twenty d.a.m.ned pairs of shoes might be about eighteen too many, don't you think?" he growled, d.a.m.ned hesitant to broach the war he knew he was getting ready to face.

As John had stated before, she was d.a.m.ned stubborn and too determined whenever she set her mind to something. If she was determined to leave, then the only way to make her stay would be to attempt to make her promise not to leave.

Fat chance, considering the mood she was in now.

Keeping his back to the bed, Archer was determined to keep his gaze away from the very inviting mattress and his thoughts away from what they could be doing there. He didn't need any distractions right now, and letting himself remember the pleasure he could experience with her there would definitely be a distraction.

"It's too d.a.m.ned dangerous for you if I stay," she raged as she jerked the closet door open and pulled the suitcase out again. "And don't worry about my d.a.m.ned shoes. They're about to be the least of your problems."

"They're already the least of my problems," he a.s.sured her with a harsh grumble as he grabbed the suitcase out of her hand, shoved it back into the closet, then slammed the door closed.

Turning back to her, Archer placed himself in front of the door before crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at her.

"Oh, and don't you just look so d.a.m.ned arrogant and commanding," she mocked, but despite the anger, he could see a hint of tears in her eyes.

d.a.m.n, he wasn't about to lie to her, period. But right now he almost wished he'd been able to lie to her. To tell her he would have come for her. To tell her he wouldn't have let her stay away much longer. Or would it have been a lie?

"We're going to talk about this, Anna-"

"We're not talking about a d.a.m.ned thing," she informed him furiously. "I don't have to have all my clothes to leave, Archer. I can easily just wear what I have on." She brushed her hand down the front of the T-s.h.i.+rt she'd stolen from him before flipping her fingers toward him contemptuously.

His d.i.c.k was hardening.

Dammit.

He needed a clear head, not one burning with l.u.s.t.

"Don't make me tear that s.h.i.+rt off you, Anna," he warned her with the utmost gentleness, determined to remain calm.