Her eyes widened in surprise as she paused in the bedroom doorway. A suitcase was on the bed, half filled.

Craig stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in gray suit pants and white shirt, a tie hung loosely around his neck, and he was holding a shaving kit. She’d sent an extremely relaxed, well-rested man to work, and he’d returned strained and exhausted. A pallor cloaked his tan, and his eyes were stone-hard and dark blue. A tense, determined purpose marked every movement he made.

Surprise yielded to instant empathy. She surged forward, set down her drink and handed him his, as she took the shaving kit from his hands. “I’ll do that. Darn it. What happened? Where are you going this time?”

It had happened before, though not often. The extraction process that Craig had developed was new and experimental. Problems cropped up quickly in the oil business, and solving them always seemed to be complicated, expensive and exhausting. He’d made a trip to Atlanta one time and another to northern California, and Craig was invariably crabby when travel and trouble went together.

Sonia viewed the jumble of shirts in the suitcase with a sigh that was amused in spite of her concern. The man couldn’t pack worth a damn. His shirts inevitably looked like wrinkled raisins, and he never remembered socks. “Jeans or suits?” she asked efficiently, and glanced back with a warm supportive smile.

Her eyebrows lifted just a little when he didn’t return her smile. Craig’s eyes glowed into hers, bright blue and tense; there was a watchfulness about him. Abruptly, he turned to the closet, drawing out yet more shirts.

“Hey,” she murmured teasingly, confused by the steadfast stare. Determination radiated from him like a quiet menace, and when he’d shifted his eyes from hers she felt an uneasy lurch in her stomach.

“I have to go to Chicago, Sonia. Only for a few days. Not long, I promise you.”

Such a gentle, gentle voice. Her heart flipped over again. “I’ll do that,” she insisted, taking the shirts from his hand, but her voice suddenly wavered. She motioned him to the chair with all the authority of an old-fashioned schoolmarm trying to win a smile.

She didn’t win one. As she bent over his suitcase, her hands automatically started refolding his shirts. “What on earth is happening in Chicago?” she asked. “Your work hasn’t taken you there before.”

“They’ve found him, Sonia.”

Her head slowly lifted. How she wished she had no idea what he was talking about! Amazing how fast an absolutely perfect world could come tumbling down. The joy and exhilaration since they’d been home, her rash, almost ridiculous confidence that the two of them were fine again, that Craig was fine, her busy, heel-clicking day…

“Sit down, honey.” Craig took from her hands the shirt she’d folded three times. The quick brand of his lips on her forehead was meant to be reassuring. His mouth was firm and warm and roughly swift. No apologies offered. “The man’s name is Tim Rawler. He was picked up on another mugging charge,” Craig said grimly. “Only this time, he managed to kill someone. The cop who was trying to catch him in the act.”

Sonia’s eyes followed him.

“There’s no question it’s the same man.” He tossed underwear on top of the suitcase, then a belt. “The police wired his picture to me. I just got it after lunch.” He flicked another glance at his wife. Aquamarine eyes were staring at him, far more brilliant than a gem. She was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, one hand clutching her upper arm as if she were suddenly cold. “Sonia…”

“Are you saying they have him behind bars?” she questioned carefully. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded hollow.

“They have him behind bars,” Craig agreed. “Then there’s no reason at all for you to go. If they’ve got him on a murder charge…”

His jaw tightened. “I knew that was exactly how you’d feel…” He took a weary breath. “And I knew you’d want me just to forget it. I can’t do that, honey. It isn’t that simple…”

“It is. Craig. He’ll be up for life if he killed a policeman. They don’t need us.” Her voice took on an impassioned note. “There is no reason for either of us to be involved anymore. None.”

“I’m going,” he said patiently, “to press charges. People get off on technicalities all the time. Maybe it really is an open-and-shut case, but I won’t take that chance.” He snapped the suitcase closed and swung it down to the carpet. “I can’t.” Still moving swiftly, he crossed to the dresser to take a swallow of the drink Sonia had brought him. Their eyes met in the mirror-his as unyielding as steel, hers furious.

“It’s not that I don’t care. Do you think I want anyone else victimized by him?” She shook her head once and then again and then wildly shook it still another time. “I don’t, Craig, but I never want to hear about that man again. I never want to hear anything about that incident again. It’s over for us, and it’s done every bit of damage to our lives that it’s going to do.”

“It is over,” Craig agreed swiftly. “I’ll handle whatever else has to be handled. You won’t have to say a word, be involved in any way-”

“That is not the point.”

Craig’s tone turned iron, his don’t-push-me voice, rarely, rarely used but always unmistakable. “There is no way in hell I’m going to let that man get away with hurting you, without seeing, without knowing that he’s paying for it.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? What you really want to do is punch the man out, settle some score. It’s some male thing for you, Craig, but dammit, what about the two of us?”

An almost ashen color crept over his bronze skin. “I love you,” he said in a low voice, “more than my life.” The words were so simply, so quietly said that she couldn’t believe it when he picked up the suitcase. “The plane leaves at four. I can barely get there on time as it is. When I get back-”

“Craig, he’s a stranger,” she tried desperately. “You’ve let a stranger all but tear us apart, and for how long now? It’s still happening. You really think if you find some way to hurt him back that it would solve something? What would it solve?” She took a breath, her voice dropping down two shaky octaves. “Everything that matters to us is right here. There’s nothing you can do in Chicago. Nothing. And if you really can’t see that-”

“Don’t,” he snapped bitterly, “say something you don’t mean.”

“Then don’t you walk out that door!”

For a moment, his eyes bored into hers, and then he was gone.

He was gone.


***

Sonia stood stock-still, her heart hammering so hard that she couldn’t think. She winced when she heard the sound of a distant door slamming. She could taste blood on her lip, from the unconscious bite of soft lip between teeth.

Her palms edged up and down her bare arms, seeking warmth, finding none. She could not remember ever having been so terribly cold.

He’d accused her of not being able to understand. The problem was, she did understand. His feelings about himself as a man were tied up in all those macho values he’d grown up with. A man must always be strong; he must protect the weak; he must guard his woman. Oh, she knew.

He wanted to protect her from a stranger, because some macho man would have proven his masculinity with his fists.

She wanted protection from her man. Protection from the aching loneliness she felt now, the terrible gnawing emptiness of wondering how their love suddenly meant less to him than what he “had to do.”

She stared, heartsick, at the silent open door. The whole house echoed a stillness, a yawning quiet. Somewhere inside her she was angry, and hurt was trying to explode in the unshed tears in her eyes, but more than that she felt simply…afraid. No matter what he thought, Craig had not failed her in Chicago. It was now she felt vulnerable, and terribly alone.

Chapter 15

From the corner of the couch in the dark living room, Sonia heard the sound of an opened door. “What’s going on around here?” Charlie bellowed. “Not a single light. Not a…ouch!”

A light went on in the kitchen; she could see the square of yellow in the open doorway and forced herself to uncurl from her position on the couch. Roughly, she pushed back her hair and moved toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, Charlie, I…”

Charlie pivoted from his crouched stance by the open refrigerator, a growing furrow on his brow as he caught a glimpse of her. “Why didn’t you call me if you were sick? Where’s Craig?”

“I’m not sick,” she immediately assured him. She moved forward, feeling disoriented and exhausted and frightened. The clock over the stove said it was six. She seemed to have lost four hours. Her heart was tied up in knots…but she had to feed Charlie. How could she have forgotten him? And at least for a few minutes, she could forget that horrible argument and at least do something. “Craig had to go away. Unexpectedly. He’ll be back in a few days. Listen, I had planned to grill some pork chops, but I…”

“What the hell is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she said succinctly, and opened the refrigerator. “I forgot to start the grill, it won’t take more than a minute or two-” She took two long breaths. “George was having trouble with the colt this morning, wasn’t he? I saw the vet’s car here before I went into town.”

“Sonia,” Charlie said softly. “Honey, exactly where is Craig?”

“In Chicago,” Sonia said brightly. “He’ll be back in a day or two.” She wouldn’t upset Charlie for the world, and she knew her voice sounded cheerful. Unfortunately, tears chose just that moment to drop from her eyes. Plop, plop, plop, all over the potatoes as she sliced them, all over the chops as she took them out of the refrigerator…