Whisper of Revenge (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 4) by Janice Kay Johnson

me.”
    “Daniel hasn’t been in town any longer than I have.  You
might know things about some of these men he doesn’t.”
    The creases bracketing his mouth deepened in a way they
didn’t when he smiled.  “He’s police chief.  He’ll know things I don’t.”
    “That’s true.”
    Finally he nodded.  “I’ll go with you to meet with Colburn
if you want.”
    Her hand hidden beneath the table curled until fingernails
bit into her palm.  “Please,” she said, barely above a whisper.
    “Then I will.  For now, why don’t we talk about something
else?”
    Eyes burning – but please not damp – she said again,
“Please.”
     
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    He’d told her it was her smile that made her beautiful, but
Elias knew that was a small part of what drew him.  He’d hesitated as long as
he had because he knew anything that happened between them would be more than
sex and some good times.
    One thing he’d discovered was that seeing her hurting made a
fist close around his own heart, constricting his blood flow and even
breathing.  He didn’t like it, couldn’t understand feeling as much as he did
for a woman he didn’t know that well.  But damned if he wanted to think of her
alone when she was in pain or scared or just needing a shoulder to lean on,
either.
    He’d meant to take this slowly.  Carefully, testing the
waters as he inched his way in.  He had dumped that plan the minute he’d
understood that she was being threatened.  This powerful need to keep her safe,
appearing out of nowhere, demolished any caution.
    He shouldn’t have taken her out to dinner tonight.  Doing so
was selfish.  Watching, he hadn’t seen anyone he knew – but that didn’t mean he
hadn’t been recognized.  He’d gotten to be too well known, not just his art but
his face.  If he’d used his head, he should have held off on starting anything
with Hannah.  Offering his support wouldn’t have enraged her stalker the same
way.
    When it came to his art, he had unlimited patience.  He
could wait for hours for exactly the right light.  Go back to an oil painting
again and again and again until he saw what was missing.
    When it came to Hannah, forget patience.  When it came to
Hannah…he didn’t recognize himself.
    Here was another example.  After her plea for them to talk
about anything besides the secret admirer, he had asked about her family,
learning that she had only one sibling, a brother ten years older than her. 
The topic seemed safe enough.
    “Samuel and I are friendly,” she said, “but not close.  My
parents moved to a retirement community in Arizona.  I don’t love it down
there, they don’t like to travel, and of course I can’t leave the business for
long.  So…”  She lifted one shoulder.
    “Have you told them about what’s going on?”
    “The secret admirer stuff?”  She looked horrified.  “Not a
chance.  They’d be upset, and what could they do?”
    As expected, she asked about his family.  “I know your
mother.  She helped with the auction, you know.  You look so much like her.”
    Keeping explanations on the surface came easily.  “Her genes
predominated,” he admitted.  “Mom claims Dad didn’t mind.”
    “He died?”
    The zing of pain took him by surprise.  “An embolism after
minor surgery,” he said.  “Just a freak thing.  I was eight.”
    The compassion that was so much a part of her had her
reaching for him even though she couldn’t know that the memory still had the
power to throw him back to the boy he’d been.  He let himself take her hand.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly.  “That must have been really
hard.”
    “I had trouble believing he’d died,” Elias heard himself
say.  “I never saw him dead.  There was a funeral, but closed casket.  I
convinced myself that really he’d left because he didn’t want us anymore.”
    “You felt abandoned, and that way you could justify being
mad at him.”  Of course she understood;