A Man Like Him Page 4

“TV cameras? Oh, my God.”

  Chris turned. Her face grew ashen and she swayed back on her heels, her eyes wide with terror. She gripped his forearm. “Help me. Don’t let them see me. You have to do something.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Chris, please. Help me.”

  Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms and she buried her face into his chest. He brought one hand to the back of her head, the other to the small of her back and pulled her close. She fit the contours of his body like she was meant to be there.

  He held her tight. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head against his chest. “It’s over. It’s all over.”

  The helicopters circled one more time and then flew away, disappearing over the horizon once more. “They’ve gone. Angela? Look at me. What is it?”

  She pulled back and tears slipped over her lower lids and down her cheeks. “I’m dead. He’s coming. He’s coming and this time he’ll kill me.”

  He gripped her forearms, adrenaline filling his blood on a protective wave. “Who will? What are you talking about?”

  She closed her eyes. “My husband.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “YOUR HUSBAND? YOU’RE MARRIED?”

  Angela stared at Chris’s shocked face and shook her head. “No.”

  “Divorced?”

  She nodded, unexpected tears burning her eyes. “Yes.”

  His hands slipped from her arms and she crossed them against her shaking body.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

  He frowned, his gaze intense on hers. “Why would you say he’ll kill you? Are you serious?”

  Angela’s heart beat faster. What had she done? For two years she’d kept her past a secret, kept her fears locked inside a box deep in her heart. A constant reminder never to let her guard down. Never forget Robert’s promise to find her, hurt her, make her his again but this time without the chance of escape. She turned away from Chris’s hazel stare as panic clawed at her insides.

  How could she have been so stupid to tell him? How could she have been so naive not to realize TV cameras would arrive? The media were the enemy. The police, the traitors. Hadn’t she learned anything through their broken promises and false assurances? Her stupid, blind pull to this...this stranger meant she’d let the thrill of him lower her defenses and now she was wide-open to God only knew what. Nausea rose in her throat and she clutched her hand there. “It’s all right. I haven’t heard from him in a long time. Everything will be okay.”

  “Well, everything is clearly not okay right now.”

  Angela turned from his turbulent gaze. “I haven’t heard anything from him for almost two years. I’m just spooked. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Go away. Leave me alone.

  “You can’t say something like that and expect me not to react...it’s out there now. It’s in my head.”

  “Please. Just leave it.” Panic lashed out and caught like a hook in her chest. She needed him away from her. Away from her situation. “It’s the shock of the flood, the heat. It’s making me a little crazy, I guess. He won’t come here.”

  Please walk away. Please don’t care. Pretend you never met me. Please.

  Chris’s gaze bore into her temple, but she concentrated on mustering a calm expression. He had to believe her. If Robert saw her picture, he’d be at the Cove before the next day’s paper was printed. What was she supposed to do? Go home and pack? Move away? A warm tear slipped onto her cheek and Angela swiped at it with her fingers.

  The silence beat between her and Chris and she drew in a long breath before she turned and met him square in the eyes. “I don’t need your help. I’ve got this, okay?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t tell me that. You’re shaking. If you’re in some kind of danger—”

  She lifted an eyebrow. Irritation and defensiveness burst into her bloodstream. “What? You’ll swoop in and save me? I don’t think so.”

  She didn’t want to be nasty. The man had saved her life. The man was built. The man was kind. Yet her coldness was necessary. She had to do something to deflect his interest...and the damn heart-melting concern in his eyes. Men were manipulators. Manipulators who blinded and charmed a girl—making her fall head over heels in love, only to have him rip out her heart and shove it down her throat.

  She didn’t know Chris Forrester. She certainly couldn’t trust him.

  He continued to stare. “Nice try.”

  His face blurred in her vision and Angela blinked hard. “I mean it. I don’t need your help.”

  His gaze locked on hers for a moment longer before he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

  Sadness dropped into her stomach. Despite her history, her fear, she sensed Chris was a nicer guy than most and she’d just pushed his goodness back in his face like it counted for nothing. It counted for so much. She hadn’t seen so much concern for her in a man’s eyes for as long as she could remember. Did he truly care? Why, though? Maybe he wanted something from her. Her paranoia from the previous day surged back into her mind. Maybe he did know Robert after all.

  Suspicion rose raw and ugly in her conscience and her weakening defenses slammed back into place. She whirled around to face the men gathered around the stockroom. “Let’s concentrate on getting these people fed and watered before anarchy breaks out, shall we?”

  A couple of seconds passed before he brushed past her. Angela stiffened. His face was stony and his wide shoulders tense. He didn’t deserve her dismissal but that’s exactly why she’d slammed down the hatches. If he knew Robert, she was in all sorts of trouble. If he didn’t...God only knew what a man like Chris would do about her violent ex-husband.

  He’d already proven his bravery, his ease at stepping forward and doing what had to be done in any given situation. Who was to say dealing with Robert would be any harder for him? Angela closed her eyes. Who the hell did she think she was? Why would he get involved? Why on earth would he give her another thought once they were off this roof?

  She was nobody to him. She’d made herself nobody to everyone for a very long time. It was her problem. She’d started to believe she could build a life in Templeton. Maybe start having a friend or two, the odd night out in good company. But that didn’t give her the right to dream she was important enough for Chris Forrester to have a genuine concern for her.

  You’re insignificant. Unimportant. Ugly.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, Angela stepped forward and planted a wide smile on her face before Robert’s words could gather momentum inside her mind. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get started.”

  She surreptitiously searched for Chris. He’d disappeared. Disappointment flooded her veins, making her heart ache. He was undoubtedly getting as far away as possible from her and her damn distrust of everyone and everything. She didn’t blame him. She’d avoid being close to herself, too, if she could.

  Angela clapped her hands and the waiting men turned. “Okay, let’s do this. Lower me back down there. We need to get the stuff out of the stockroom as soon as possible. This heat is only going to rise and we don’t want that food wasted.”

  One of the volunteers smiled. “It’s all right, love. A bloke’s already down there sorting things out.”

  “Who?” Angela’s stomach fluttered. She knew exactly who.

  “Big guy. Blondish hair, green T-shirt.”

  Chris.

  Relief pushed the air from her lungs. Even though she couldn’t afford to believe he had no connection to Robert, she couldn’t stop that from letting him do something to help his fellow survivors. To help her.

  She tilted her chin. “Right. Good. Well, if you guys will get a chain going and pass the supplies out, I’ll go and see where else I’m needed.”

 
The man nodded and turned back to help.

  Angela lingered awhile longer, part of her wanting to see Chris again, wanting to look into his eyes and see something there to convince her he was as good and honest as she wanted him to be—and to tell him how good it felt to be in his arms. It had been so long since she’d let a man touch her or even hold her hand. When she’d buried her face in his shirt, she’d done it instinctively and the euphoria of being held by him still lingered like a tattoo on her skin.

  The perpetual feeling of hopelessness that stole over her shoulders had nothing to do with the flood or the fact she was in charge of hundreds of stranded civilians. That she would cope with. She’d make sure every single one of these people was rescued from the roof before her. It was her lack of control over Robert’s next move that had panic clawing at her courage, threatening to rip it wide-open once more.

  The horrible, gnawing fear she’d never be free of him for as long as she lived spread like poison inside her. Angela moved through the sea of survivors. News helicopters. Photographers. It was sick they’d arrived before the rescue teams came to airlift people fighting for their lives in tree branches and on roofs.

  She stopped and took a moment to slow her breathing, lifting her stiff and dirty hair back from her face and holding it in a fist. What would happen when tomorrow’s paper came out for the entire country to see? What then? According to her family, Robert had left prison and returned to their marital home. Heedless, it seemed, to the catalog of vile memories the place held for his ex-wife.

  After months of phone calls and letters sent to her parents’ address from prison, he’d finally given up on Angela’s family ever allowing him to apologize for what he’d put their daughter through. Angela had enjoyed complete anonymity for so long she’d stupidly begun to believe in the possibility of staying in Templeton Cove forever.

  Tears burned at her eyes. Doubting Chris was just another successful punch to her life that Robert continued to deliver with his iron-clad fist.

  She slowly exhaled as desperation tore at her heart. Her gaze fell on a big plastic storage box to the side of the roof. There was work to do. No time for self-pity or wondering what the future held. Right now, people needed her to be focused and she wouldn’t let them down.

  She marched forward and snatched up the box. They needed a toilet.

  Angela raised the box above her head. “Can everyone who can spare a coat, a blanket, even an umbrella, please follow me. We have work to do. The rescuers will come soon. In the meantime, we need to get busy and make the best of what we have.”

  People slowly stepped forward, jackets and blankets in their arms, umbrellas in their hands. Human strength was amazing. Strength in numbers even more so. Even if Robert had beaten the trust in human nature from her, raped her belief in any possibility of a happy future...he hadn’t broken her spirit. She’d survived him once and she would again.

  Leading the volunteers to a far corner of the roof, she got to work. Busy hands meant less thinking, less contemplating, less imagining. She set about using discarded coats, blankets and umbrellas to form a makeshift shelter, catching the eyes of fellow survivors and offering them smiles of encouragement.

  She’d do everything in her power to lessen people’s humiliation and discomfort. Nobody would be subjected to anything they didn’t want to do if she could avoid it. Memories flooded Angela’s mind and strengthened her resolve. Robert made her beg for a meal, clean the house naked and go days without the comfort of friends or family. No one in this world deserved to suffer humiliation at the hands of another.

  Tears smarted her eyes and she blinked them away. Her hands shook and she fought to steady them as she strode forward to ask the others to help her tie the coats together. Using some crossbars on the roof and the iron railing running around the outside, they soon erected a curtained toilet area.

  Another hour passed before the whirr of helicopters once more filled the air. The crowd of survivors fell quiet for the third time that day. People lifted their hopeful faces to the sky. Angela stopped breathing as she trained her gaze on the horizon. The helicopter neared and its telltale khaki color became clearer. She released her held breath in a rush.

  The Army.

  Seconds later, another one followed. Cheers erupted. People waved and hugged loved ones once more.

  With expert precision, the helicopter circled and then hovered above the stockroom. Everyone stood in mesmerized fascination as a helmeted rescuer jumped down and approached the closest man to him.

  Chris grasped the outstretched hand of the soldier.

  Angela pushed her way through the crowds and stood still as she watched them speak. After what felt like forever, Chris turned.

  “Women and children first. Women and children only.”

  As though they were connected on an invisible thread, his eyes met hers before he looked away and gestured for the first people to come forward. Angela’s chest ached. If only she could trust her intuition that Chris was a good man—but hadn’t she thought the exact same thing about Robert in the beginning?

  * * *

  CHRIS AND THE final male survivors stepped from the bus that had brought them from the airfield to the impromptu rescue spot set up in the sports hall of the local leisure center. The soldiers had worked quickly and efficiently and three hours later, every one of the five hundred or more survivors had been flown to safety.

  Exhaling a shaky breath, Chris pushed open the double doors and stopped. If it hadn’t hit him before, it hit him now. They had survived a disaster. Tables were set up around the perimeter offering clothes, food, water, towels and first aid. Tens of people manned the stations, offering help. It was a glorious illustration of human kindness but also stark confirmation they were lucky to be alive.

  Swallowing the ball of emotion that rose in his throat, Chris searched the crowds for one particular brown-haired woman. He’d not set eyes on Angela since helping her into a helicopter an hour before. She’d been the last woman to be taken to safety. Despite the way they parted company, he smiled.

  She hadn’t boarded the helicopter without a fight.

  Although not physically fighting him, her eyes had flashed with fury and her mouth spewed words of protestation as she insisted the male holidaymakers be flown out of the park before her. Her claim that the park was her ship and a captain didn’t abandon ship had almost floored him.

  The woman he’d held in his arms while she trembled, the woman whose eyes had grown wide with terror had once more been focused and full of confidence. The manager, the woman who got things done, lodged at the forefront of his mind. The core of her lingered in that persona, he was sure of it. Not in the one the possibility of her ex-husband evoked. She was strong, beautiful and confident. A woman—any woman—deserved to live her life that way. Every day.

  He really didn’t want this to be happening. Why couldn’t things in life go along quietly for a while? He’d wanted nothing more than to pull Angela into his arms and kiss her before she climbed into the helicopter. He’d resisted, knowing damn well it would’ve earned him a slapped face.

  “Chris? Chris!”

  He spun around at the sound of his sister’s voice. “Hey, you.”

  Cat enveloped him in a hug, the top of her head fitting snugly beneath his chin. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  He smiled. “I’m fine.”

  She squeezed her arms tighter around his waist. “There are so many people who aren’t. People have lost loved ones, Chris. It’s terrible.”

  Sadness weighed heavy on his shoulders. Cat was Templeton’s detective inspector. If she’d already been notified of lost lives in this short of a time, it meant the number was high and most likely growing. As he’d predicted, the devastation was rife, the aftermath worse.

  He eased her back and looked into green-blue eyes so similar to his. “
How many?”

  “It stands at twenty-five so far.”

  Chris shook his head. “God.”

  Cat’s arms slipped from around his waist and instead circled her husband’s. His brother-in-law, Jay, held out his hand. “Good to see you in one piece.”

  Chris shook Jay’s hand and offered a strained smile. “Thanks.” He released his hand and turned to Cat. “Were they all from the holiday park?”

  She straightened, her cop face sliding into place. “Twelve from the park.”

  “The others?”

  “People camping at Fairgrove. It’s a nightmare. When I heard you were...” Her voice cracked.

  He rubbed his hand down her arm. “I’m okay. Does Mum know?”

  She nodded. “She’s okay. I told her I was coming down here and I’d get you to phone her straight away.” She pulled her cell from her pocket. “Here.”

  Chris waved it away. “Not yet. I still need a bit of time.”

  Cat’s determined stare locked on his. “She’s okay, Chris. This isn’t going to set her back.”

  His gut knotted. It was no wonder Cat was a cop. She read minds like a damn psychic.

  “I know.” Chris closed his eyes and pushed his hand into his hair. “I’ll go and see her as soon as we leave here. It’ll be better for her if she sees me alive and kicking rather than talking to her over the phone.”

  Cat’s eyes softened. “Good.”

  Chris looked around the hall. People sat on the floor, chatting and hugging other survivors. Others walked around looking dazed and unsure what to do next. He turned to Cat and planted his hands on his hips. “So, what happens now? Do you need any help? Volunteers?”

  She blew out a breath and followed his gaze around the hall. “Not yet. This is a matter for the police and the authorities for the time being. Until the big cleanup starts in the next few days, of course. Then it will be all hands on deck. I’m sure the holiday park could use your help when the time comes. We have to wait for the water to recede and then make sure it’s safe for the public to go back in there.”