He shook his head from side to side, rejecting her words. Denial was killing her. If ever a person needed to face their past, it was Lindsey. Why he wanted to make her see the light, he didn’t know. She wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, he’d only just met her.

“Wrong,” he said firmly. “You were too good to have only done it for your father.”

She closed her arms in front of her body, assuming a defensive stance to match her attitude. “You wouldn’t know. You weren’t even around then, and you don’t know me.”

He let out a loud sigh. “Wrong again. I’ve seen your case files. I do know how good you are. And, like it or not, I see the love for battle in your eyes. You like winning, and that’s what spooked you. You were afraid your desire to win killed that girl. You got scared, and you simply quit.” He wasn’t taunting her. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Somebody needed to make her see the light.

Emotions flashed across her face. As her expression mimicked her pain, he wished he could pull his words back. Anger flooded her features—another defense mechanism. She shot him a scowling look and exhaled as she clearly reached for control. “You’re an ass, Mark Reeves. Daddy was right.” Her words were soft; no longer was she yelling, but there was no mistaking the disdain etching her voice.

She turned on her heels, and stomped towards the door. Halfway there, she stopped. He lifted a brow, a silent question. “My briefcase.”

Mark went to the couch and grabbed it, holding it up in the air, telling her she had to come get it. He couldn’t help teasing her. She had stormed off so indignantly and now she had to face him again. Shoulders back, head held high, she stomped back towards him, and reached for her bag. He moved it just out of her reach. She all but growled at him.

“You give up easily Lindsey. I’m disappointed.” He meant to challenge her with his words. He loved the fire in her eyes.

“I don’t give up easily,” she spat angrily. “I analyze and choose worthwhile battles. My analysis is that this is not one of them.”

Mark’s head fell back as his rumble turned into a roar of laughter. “That stung. Very good, Counselor.”

“Don’t call me that. Give me my bag,” she demanded.

He was laughing so hard she managed to take him off guard and snatch the bag from his grip. The minute she had it in her hand, she turned back towards the stairs. As she reached the door, he said, “Maybe you can stay longer next time.”

She didn’t turn and look at Mark. Instead she opened the door and exited, slamming it shut behind her with a loud bang. He loved her softness, her anger, her spunk, and, yes, her intelligence. The combination was alluring and way too appealing.

He regretted that he would probably never see her again. If things were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to explore what was between them.

But they weren’t. She was Edward’s daughter. Case closed. The problem was, he didn’t want it to be. He cursed under his breath, running his index finger across the stubble on his chin. Lindsey had been compelling in her pleas for help, too compelling. Mark remembered reading through the Hudson case when he first joined Paxton. Lindsey had done an exceptional job of handling the case, yet today he’d seen the pain the outcome had caused her.

She felt like she was a killer.

He had several consulting jobs he was committed to. But he wasn’t as busy as he had led Lindsey to believe. Consulting was a lot less demanding than hands-on case management. Unable to help himself—his curiosity was piqued—he started walking towards his office. He flipped on the light switch and made a beeline for the computer.

A little research on Hudson, and this new Williams case, couldn’t hurt.

Refreshing his memory, he skimmed through some materials about Hudson. He’d maintained his innocence over the years, never faltering in his insistence that he was framed. Even now, serving a life sentence—barely escaping the death penalty—he held true to his story.

Lindsey had defended him on four rape counts, all of which he was acquitted. The crimes had all fit a certain profile. Eerily, the woman had all looked like Lindsey: blond, petite, long hair. He couldn’t help but think that had to have rattled her a bit. A high profile criminal case was stressful. Add this little tidbit, and it got downright intense.

Reading his notes, he started remembering the details. A mere two weeks after Hudson was released, another woman fitting the same profile as the prior crimes was attacked. But this time she was killed.

Hudson was picked up for the crime and later convicted, but Lindsey had refused to defend him. Mark looked up from his computer screen, pressing his fingers against his strained eyes. He vaguely remembered Edward talking about the circumstances around Lindsey’s rapid departure from the legal profession. She had blamed herself. From what he could see of their strained relationship, he figured she blamed her father as well.

Mark flipped through the few articles he could find on Williams. He read a few minutes and then shoved his chair back from his desk, feeling a sickening dread. Something was very wrong. This case was almost identical to the Hudson case. Even the victims looked the same.

Like Lindsey.

Chapter Two

He’d hungered for her return for so long.

And now she was back. Just when he thought he might have to go after her, she had come to him.

His plan had worked. Recreating history had brought her home. A chance to undo her wronged past. A chance to catch him. Because he knew she really wanted him as he wanted her.

No one else had proven smart enough to see through his little game of hide and seek. Only Lindsey. She’d known Hudson was innocent, and she’d figure out the same about Williams.

At times, he was angry for the pain she had caused him. He tried not to think about it. The way she had left him alone had ripped through his very heart. But he’d vowed to push aside the fierceness of his devastation. Because now she was home with him where she belonged.

Oh, how he had missed her attention. Because Lindsey was his soul mate. The woman who knew how to find him, and make him whole.

For now it was enough to watch her, to see her in action. But soon they would be together.

And the darkness he felt would become light.

* * * * *

Lindsey stepped out of the cab onto the cement pavement of the cancer center’s parking lot. Seeing her father always made her tense. She had only seen him once since her return, making work-related excuses for her absence when she called him each evening. But after a morning of forced attention on case files, she’d seen a disturbing trend.

Her father had been taking on clients who couldn’t pay their bills. For a man who had always been motivated by money, it made no sense.

As she walked through the medical complex, Lindsey wondered if she should tell her father about her meeting with Mark, and decided against it. Bringing up a replacement for Mark seemed an even worse idea. But sometime soon it would have to be discussed. Lindsey found her father sitting in the courtyard, a large elm tree offering him shade.

When he spotted her, a tired smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Hi, Lindsey. What a surprise. I’m so happy you came.”

Lindsey bent down and kissed his cheek. It baffled her, the way he pretended three years of silence between them had never occurred. She forced a half smile to her lips. This place reminded her of her mother’s car accident, and her death. Of the bedside prayers for her recovery.

“How do you feel, Daddy?”

As she waited for his answer, she examined him more closely. The cancer treatments were taking a toll. His hair was sparse, and he was too thin. The remaining hair that had seemed only peppered with gray on her last visit now seemed to be a cap of silver. She didn’t want to think about him dying. She swallowed hard against the pain and fear. They might not have a good relationship, but facing his death wouldn’t be easy. In fact, their strained relationship might make it harder.