Contempt sheared across his face. “You stole it! Denying it, trying to blame Olympia, won’t work now any more than it worked seven years ago! So stop lying to me!”
Laurel’s hand fisted in frustration. Anger was boiling up in her, she couldn’t stop it. It was happening again, a nightmare replay of his accusation seven years ago. Refusing to believe her, refusing to listen, refusing everything except to condemn her.
“It’s the truth!” she spat.
He leant across the breakfast bar at her. His face was black, his eyes like knives. “It’s a lie now, just as it was then! You’re still nothing but a lying little thief!”
Fury boiled over in her. Burst out of her. Eyes blazing. Heart hammering inside chest, pounding in her veins. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that! Never. Do you understand me? My God, I had to put up with your foul accusations seven years ago! But not any longer! Never, ever again!” she spat, loud and angry, fury contorting her face.
His was contorted too. Voice rising, overriding hers. Shouting her down. “I’ll speak to you any damn way I choose! You don’t get to dictate to me! You’re a thief and a liar who couldn’t even find the honesty to damn well admit it when the evidence of it was in front of my eyes! You just went on and on and damn well denied it!”
She reared back. “Because I didn’t do it, that’s why!” She was shouting too now and didn’t care. Black fury was possessing her, boiling over in her. “And I will not have you throw all that garbage at me again! So just shut up! Do you hear me? Just shut the hell up!”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The snarl came again, louder now, to override her, dominate her, allow her no voice, no defence.
Like he did last time—seven years ago! Going on and on at me! Trying to force a confession from me.
Sickness rose in her throat and such anger, such black, black anger. He was still denouncing her, that hateful, condemning refusal to believe her. His raised fury-laden voice slamming into her.
“Well, no dice!” His mouth twisted, ugly and thinned, knives in his eyes, narrowed and vicious, fury naked in them, black rage. “I know you for what you are! And, my God, if I could have chosen any other woman on earth as a mother to my son, I would! Do you think I want trash like you anywhere near him?” His face enraged, darkening and condemning, his voice louder yet, shutting her down, silencing her. He lifted one hand, brought it slamming down on the countertop. Voice rising even louder in his vehement rage. “You stole that bracelet. No one else did! You! So don’t stand there and try and sleaze your way out of it! Don’t even think you can—”
He broke off. Froze.
Expression changing. Eyes going past her. To the door into the sitting room.
Slowly, like in a nightmare, Laurel turned. And the nightmare became real.
Dan was standing there stark and motionless in the now fully open doorway, abject terror in his face.
Chapter Four
FOR ONE HIDEOUS SECOND, the tableau held. Then, appalled, Laurel rushed to her son. As she swept him to her, terrified sobs broke from him. Tearing her to pieces. Remorse and horror ripped through her. Dan was shaking uncontrollably, sobbing, gasping.
“You were…sh..shouting,” he said stammeringly, “shouting and shouting…” terror clear in his trembling voice, clinging to her desperately.
Knives stabbed into Laurel. “Oh, darling, it’s all right! It’s all right!” she said urgently, kneeling to his level so that she could hug him completely, arms snaking around him as his little body racked.
Oh God! What have I done?
Guilt crucified her. To have let rip like that as she had, allowing her fury to boil over, her rage and anger exploding, thinking of nothing but herself, her own fury, shouting as she had, hatred and rage naked, vicious in her voice.
“It’s all right, darling!” she said again, in an agony of remorse, hugging him closer and closer still as his anguished, terrified sobs went on.
“I was scared!” He could hardly get the words out. “You were angry and I was scared!” he said, his voice choking.
“Oh, darling!” she said again, helpless and guilt-stricken, arms tightening around him.
Then, suddenly, there was someone else there. Someone else hunkering down. Another voice added to hers. “It’s okay, Dan. I promise you, it’s okay.”
Xander put his hand on Dan’s back, his fingers spreading out, reassuring and comforting him. “It’s okay,” he said again. “We were shouting, yes, but it’s okay. We won’t do it again. It’s all right now. I’m sorry we scared you.”
His eyes met Laurel’s. For a moment both were silent. Then she realised Dan’s anguished sobs were subsiding, slowly turning into hiccuping gasps. His trembling was easing too, and Laurel slackened her arms around him but kept them there all the same. With one hand she reached to smooth his hair. As she did her fingers brushed the back of Xander’s hand, which was still resting on Dan’s back, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except that she’d reduced her own son to terrified shaking and sobbing…
“It’s okay,” Xander was saying again, his hand rubbing Dan’s back now, calming him more, his words, his voice soothing him, reassuring him.
It took a while longer, but at last Dan had seen it through. Slowly, Laurel got to her feet but took hold of Dan’s hand. Xander took the other one.
“Are you okay now?” he asked. His voice was low, concerned.
