She was staring at a plain manila envelope, frowning as he reached for her. “What is it?"
"I'm not sure."
He leaned over her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her waist. It was addressed to her, but there was no return address. He got a bad feeling in his gut as she ripped it open. “Maybe you should leave this until later?"
"Why?” She glanced up at him and reached inside.
He couldn't come up with a reason fast enough and she withdrew a sheet of paper. Block letters that someone had obviously cut from a newspaper or magazine covered the page. The message was simple. LEAVE TOWN BEFORE YOU GET HURT. NEXT TIME IT WON'T BE YOUR TIRES THAT GET SLASHED.
Cyndi swayed and he tightened his grip on her, easing her down into a chair. “Son of a bitch,” he swore. He yanked out his phone and placed a quick call to his brother. Cyndi was sitting there, staring at the letter, her face devoid of any color or expression.
When he ended the call, he crouched down in front of her and gently eased the sheet of paper out of her tightly clenched fingers. Such a small item, but it had done incredible damage. Anger at the unknown coward threatening his woman coursed through his veins. No one would hurt her. He wouldn't allow it.
"Everything will be okay,” he promised. “Patrick is on the way."
"The sheriff is going to be sick of coming to this house. I've caused him nothing but trouble since I got here."
Shamus wanted to swear again and kick something. The soft smile that had graced her face when he'd walked into the room a few minutes ago was gone. Now, she looked tired and worn. He observed faint, dark circles under her eyes and damned himself for not noticing them earlier. Cyndi was worn out with worry and late nights.
"None of this is your fault."
"Isn't it?” She straightened her shoulders and, once again, he was reminded of her backbone of steel. “All of this is because of who I am and who my family is."
"No,” he disagreed. “All of this is because of some nutcase with a need for revenge, who was too afraid to face your father, but isn't afraid to taunt and torment a woman."
Cyndi shook her head and turned away from him. He caught her chin in his hand and drew her face back to him. “None of this is your fault.” His gut clenched. He could almost hear her contemplating her options, one of which was leaving town. He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving Jamesville. Leaving him.
He could tell she didn't believe him and there was no time for him to say more. Cars were pulling up outside. It was obvious Patrick was back with some of his deputies. Sighing in frustration, he eased himself back up and stared down at the woman who owned his heart. She didn't even look at him.
There was a loud thump on the front door, followed quickly by a ring of the doorbell. “I'm coming!” he yelled as he turned and stalked toward the front door.
He practically ripped the door open to find his brother with two deputies standing behind him. “Come on in."
Chapter Twenty-One
Cyndi sat through yet another interview with the sheriff's deputies. There were no more clues this time than there had been with the shooting or the tire-slashing incident. The sheriff promised to talk to the staff at the post office, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. The postmark was local, but it could have been dropped into any mailbox around town. There was no way of knowing where it originated.
There was still the possibility of fingerprints, but that too wasn't likely. Several people at the post office, as well as she and Shamus had handled the envelope. If there were any prints, they'd probably be smudged. Still, it was a slim lead.
Shamus ushered the deputies out when they were done. They'd actually come across another envelope in the pile of mail. It seems the person had sent two. Cyndi just hadn't been picking up her mail regularly. There was a bigger chance of finding a useful fingerprint on that letter, but she didn't hold out much hope. If it was the same person making the threats, they'd been smart up to now.
She heard male voices in the background, but ignored them. Her mind was whirling with the fact that someone truly wanted to hurt her. The shooting incident had been scary, but somehow the letters were more personal. She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Having all that venom and anger directed at her was disconcerting, to say the least.
"Hey.” Shamus reached down and took her hands in his. Warmth. Shamus was always so warm.
She didn't know what to say to him, so she said nothing. What did you say to a man at a time like this? Sorry to involve you? There was no way to apologize for what their association had put him through. His life had been running along quite smoothly before he'd met her.
"Whatever you're thinking, stop it.” He pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. “I know you think this is your fault, but it's not.” His voice was a deep rumble as she rested her face against his solid chest. “If you want to leave, do it for yourself, not because you think it will make my life better. But I can assure you that not having you here certainly won't improve the quality of my life."
"How can you say that?” Although she wanted to do nothing more than burrow into his warmth, she forced herself to push away from him and stand on her own two feet.
"Because it's true."
She crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at him.
He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, dislodging the tie that held it back. His long hair fell around his face and he cursed and shoved it aside. “Look, my life was fine before I met you. I had a great job I loved, good friends and family, and dated whenever I wanted. I had my own home and truck and a place in the community."
It made her stomach tighten to listen to him, especially the part about dating when he wanted. Probably with younger, prettier women, who didn't come with two tons of emotional baggage and a crazed stalker. “That's my point,” she whispered.
He shook his head and took a step toward her. They were standing toe-to-toe now, his work boots touching her sneakers, his face mere inches from hers. “It was great, but there was a void in my life that's been getting bigger the past few months. I had no one special in my life to share it with."
"I'm sure any of the many women you dated would be glad to fill that void for you,” she almost snarled. The thought of him with another woman made her want to do violence.
Shamus lowered his head until their foreheads were touching. “None of them sparked any interest inside me. Not until I met you.” He nuzzled her temple and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “There was something about you from the moment I saw you. I knew you were special and I knew you were meant for me."
"How can you be so sure?” She desperately wanted to believe his words. She'd felt the same way about him. It was as if they'd already known one another, the connection was so immediate and so deep. It was almost frightening how fast she'd fallen for Shamus.
"I know myself.” His lips hovered over hers, not quite touching. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth. “I've always known that there was one special woman for me and that I'd know her the moment I laid eyes on her. It was like that with my parents."
"Really?"
"Yup. My mom used to tell me the story of how she and dad met.” Shamus kissed her bottom lip, tugging gently on it with his teeth. She gasped, her lips parting. “My mom was working at the old general store when he stopped in to buy some cigarettes. He was a trucker and on a whim pulled into this store on the edge of town. One look, she said, was all it took.” Shamus's large hands rubbed up and down her back, urging her closer.