Nightfall by Anne Stuart Page B

trust you," he said heavily. "I hope to God I'm not making a major mistake, but I don't see that I have any option."
    Richard smiled faintly. "None that you're willing to accept. Are you going to stop her from leaving? Or am I?"
    "I'll talk to her."
    "Are you going to warn her about me?" He sounded no more than casually interested.
    "Is that against our agreement?"
    "Not at all. You can tell her anything you want. I'll take care of the rest."
    "My daughter isn't an idiot, Tiernan. She's smart, she takes care of herself. She's not a victim, and she's not the kind of woman who'd look for a fantasy screw with a murderer. Thrills aren't her thing."
    "Oh, I thought you decided Cassidy needs a few more thrills in her life. Wasn't that how you justified bringing her up here? I simply intend to provide them." He waited to see Sean's reaction, curious as to how far he could push him.
    O'Rourke's brief spurt of paternal protectiveness had already vanished. "This better be a damned fine book," he growled.
    Richard only smiled.
     
    There, she'd made the decision, and she'd stand by it. Relief and regret swamped her in equal parts as she dragged her suitcase out of the closet and began throwing her clothes inside. It was already early afternoon, but she was leaving the Park Avenue apartment within the hour. Mabry was out somewhere—she'd leave her a note. Now that she'd decided to leave, nothing was going to stop her.
    "Running away?" The voice was soft, taunting, coming from her open doorway.
    Cass met Richard's cool, ironic gaze with a steady look of her own. "Hardly. I just have better things to do than dance to my father's tune. He wants a handmaiden, and I've outgrown the role."
    "He wants a daughter. Have you outgrown that role as well?"
    "He's always had me, whether he realized it or not. But I'm not going to play the game with his rules. He changes them to suit himself, and I'm too old to get trapped again."
    "Such a great age," he said, tilting his head to one side and surveying her. "How old are you?"
    "Twenty-seven."
    "I was that young once."
    "I doubt it."
    She wished he wouldn't smile at her like that. With that peculiar bittersweet expression that caught at her heart. "He needs your help, Cassidy. I don't imagine it's easy for him to admit it."
    "You're very good, aren't you?" she shot back.
    "Am I?"
    "You can hone in on a person's weakness. If I stood on my head, I wouldn't be able to win my father's love and approval."
    "You already have it."
    "Bullshit. My father's love and approval is reserved for himself."
    "You're confusing love with attention. He's self-absorbed, and nothing will ever change that. But he needs you. Are you going to turn your back on him?" He asked the question with what seemed no more than casual interest.
    "What does it matter to you?"
    "The future of the book is of some importance to me."
    Of course it was. He must be counting on that book to save him from the bizarre horror of execution. Sean's book would either vindicate him or, if the worst was true, it might explain his actions, enough to keep him from being the first man executed in the state of New York in God knows how long. With a court date on the horizon, Richard couldn't afford any more delays.
    "It's a little late to defend yourself," she said, steeling herself not to feel the wrenching sympathy.
    "I'm not interested in defending myself."
    "That much was obvious from the transcripts. Why didn't you just tell them the truth and get it over with?"
    The silence between them was long and icy cold. "But what is the truth?" he murmured.
    "Did you kill your wife and children?"
    She wanted, needed to hear an answer. Even if it was the one she abhorred.
    But he simply smiled, an eerie, haunted smile. "Don't leave, Cassidy. Don't abandon your father."
    "I can't…"
    "Don't abandon me."
    And the quiet words lingered in the air, long after Richard had disappeared down the quiet hallway.
CHAPTER 6
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    She knew all the buzzwords. She'd read