“I forced you out of hiding,” he said in a grim voice. “You left because of me. Because you were afraid if I found you then others could too.”
Ramie wouldn’t lie, even to make him feel better. Her tone had no anger or resentment. Just matter-of-factness. “It was the longest I’d ever remained in one place. I think it was the only time he didn’t find me or at least he didn’t make his presence known. But if I’m right and he’s psychic then he would have known. He enjoys the thrill of the hunt. It’s a high for him. He’s a trophy hunter. You know, like hunters or fishermen have their own record books and when someone breaks the old record, there’s this sense of glory, an adrenaline rush that is nothing compared to before then. He lives to taunt me. He’d like to lull me into believing I’ve escaped him and when I don’t expect him there he is. He wants me to suffer. I’m his trophy kill,” she whispered. “The kind hunters have preserved and mounted on their walls, the one that gets the special place above the fireplace mantel.”
He knelt back in front of her. He took both of her hands, drawing them together in his clasp. Then he stared her directly in the eyes, remorse brimming in his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “God, I’m sorry, Ramie. I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known what it does to you. Or that I’d lead you back into the hands of a killer.”
“Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing even if you had known?”
Her voice reminded him of cracking ice after a winter storm, though rare this far south, and the sound of the tree branches splintering away, their burden too great to bear any longer. He refused to allow her to slide away from him, like water through his fingers. He curled those fingers into tight fists as if to prevent that very thing from happening.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “No. God forgive me, but no, I would have done anything to save my sister. I know you hate me. You have every right to. But as you said, I owe you, and I fully intend to repay my debt to you.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t even blame you. In your shoes I would have done the same for a loved one.”
“How can you not hate me when I damn near caused your death? When I forced you to endure being brutalized by a psychopath? You may not hate me, Ramie, but I damn sure hate myself for what I did.”
She reached out her hand and slid it gently down his cheekbone before cupping his jaw. He visibly flinched and his breath caught. He went so still that she couldn’t even detect his breaths.
Warmth spread through her hand and up her arm before spreading through her chest like a wildfire. She yanked her hand away, appalled by the familiar way she’d touched him. But he caught her hand and carefully put it back to his cheek, keeping his hand over hers so it was trapped.
“Desperation makes us do the unthinkable. How can you hate yourself for being able to save your sister? How does it help your sister that you hate yourself? Never let her sense you regret your actions because those actions saved her from certain death. I’m sure she’s very grateful to you for her life.”
“She’s grateful to you,” Caleb said gruffly. “You are the one she owes her life to.”
“You providing me sanctuary is payment enough if you feel you’re in my debt.”
“Count on it,” he vowed. “You’re coming home with me, Ramie. I formed a security firm with my brothers after Tori’s abduction. I swore never to be without the right tools to ensure the safety of my family. We hire only the best.”
“I need the best,” she said in a low voice filled with conviction. “Because he’s always only a footstep behind me. No matter where I go. No matter what I do. And until he’s taken down, all the women he kills will be my fault. I can’t live with that guilt any longer.”
Caleb emitted a soft curse as he slid his hand underneath her chin, framing it between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. His gaze bored into her unwaveringly.
“I will protect you, Ramie. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
EIGHT
CALEB watched a myriad of emotions flicker and swirl in Ramie’s smoky gray eyes. The pupils were slightly dilated, making her eyes appear enormous in the delicate bone structure of her face. She was thin. Perhaps too thin because there was no spare flesh at her cheeks or eyes and her shoulders were narrow, her collarbone pronounced, making hollows between it and her neck.
He could circle her wrists with a thumb and one finger and she felt delicate. As though she would simply break if someone handled her with anything but the utmost care. And yet she was hauntingly beautiful. Not the sort of woman he was normally attracted to but he realized he was indeed attracted to her. The idea of another man causing her harm infuriated him beyond the fact that no woman should ever be brutalized by a man. It felt personal to him. As though she were his woman and another man had put his hands on her.