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Beauty Vs. The Beast
M.J. Rodgers
And Then There Was One…When psychologist Damian Steele killed off the nasty half of his dual-personality patient, he never expected that the "widow" would file a wrongful-death suit. Nor did he expect that a breathtaking beauty would be his saving grace.Attorney Kay Kellogg had handled some unusual civil cases at Justice Inc., but Damian's was definitely setting a new precedent. So, too, were her feelings for the darkly mysterious and sinfully sexy psychologist–the "beast" who kept far too many secrets.As the sensational trial unfolded, Kay found herself fighting not just for justice but for her sanity. For Damian's secrets were the kind that stalked the mind as well as the heart.
Beauty vs. the Beast
M.J. Rodgers
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This is dedicated to Randall Toye with special thanks for his vote of confidence in its concept.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
K.O. (Kay) Kellogg—This attorney’s arguing a dynamite case. With luck it won’t blow up in her face.
Damian Steele—He’s the psychologist who “killed” the nasty personality of a dual-personality patient.
Lee/Roy Nye—Lee is the dual-personality patient; Roy no longer exists. Or does he?
Rodney Croghan—He’s the attorney for the plaintiff, a conniving and ruthless opponent.
Fedora Nye—She’s the woman who’s suing Damian for murdering her husband’s personality.
Tim Haley—He was Damian’s receptionist. Now he’s too angry to work with him.
Priscilla Payton—She’s a lady scorned and maybe a lady out for vengeance.
Larry Nye—He’s the son of the “murdered” man, a chip off the old block.
Bette Boson—She’s another multiple-personality patient with even more severe problems.
Contents
Prologue (#u6a199729-6650-5e48-a2eb-00c36ae075a1)
Chapter One (#u5bf05ffc-771d-5376-81b8-ba7674ca638c)
Chapter Two (#ua8856417-a102-5aee-8479-d2d6cb5f95b1)
Chapter Three (#u8619a108-d1a3-5b3d-9d24-4bfe03f7f4f8)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Angry sounds rumbled through the walls.
The little boy rocked sleepily awake as the thunderous sounds shook his small body. His eyes blinked open to darkness.
He burrowed his head beneath his covers, cupping his ears with his palms, trying to block out the sounds. But the violent, unrelenting blows pounded ever more fiercely against his eardrums, making them feel sore and beaten.
He grabbed the pillow and dragged it beneath the covers. He wrapped it around his head to muffle his ears. If he could no longer hear the sounds, maybe he could make them go away.
Please.
But the angry sounds kept getting louder, closer.
He threw the pillow aside and snatched the covers off his head. He dived for the edge of the mattress. His feet tangled in the sheet and blanket. He fell to the floor, kicking and squirming, clumsily trying to free himself.
Frantically, he fought with the bedding and with the tears of terror beading onto his cheeks as the precious seconds slipped away.
And the angry pounding came closer, ever closer.
His tiny fingers clawed at the wood-slat floor as he inched himself beneath his bed. The bulky bedding got caught on the bed frame. He pulled his feet free of it just as the pounding stopped right outside his bedroom door.
He flattened himself beneath the bed as panic welled sick in his stomach and the rough wooden planks scored his delicate cheek.
The door to his bedroom banged open. The hallway light blinded him. He raised a shaking hand to shade his eyes, peering through the slits between his small fingers.
He could see the hideous dark hump swaying in the doorway, so immense its shadow pressed against the walls and climbed to the very ceiling. It was the demon from hell, its eyes glowing red, its rancid stench of smoke and acrid alcohol burning the little boy’s sensitive nostrils.
He opened his mouth to scream—great, lung-emptying, panic-packed shrieks that tragically could make no sound at all, except in the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind.
For he knew he could not let the demon hear his screams, or the reasons for them would only get so much worse.
The demon bellowed its angry thunder throughout the boy’s small body as it stomped into the room, lifted the empty mattress off the bed and threw it against the wall. This was just the beginning of its search. And the longer it searched and could not find him, the more furious it would get. And the more terrible the punishment would eventually be.
The little boy knew he was worthless and deserved everything he got. He had been told that often enough. He should come out from under the bed now and submit to his punishment.
But the little boy couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t willingly give up to this angry, hurtful demon. He had to try to escape just one more time.
The demon stomped over to the closet and yanked open the door, growling and kicking and slamming its huge fists against the closet wall when it realized its prey was not there.
The little boy knew his chance had come. He slid out from under the bed and quickly scampered over to the bedroom door.
His heart hammered in his chest as he ran down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him.
He must hide. But where could he go? He’d been found in the living room behind the couch. He’d been found in the kitchen under the table. He’d even been found in the laundry room at the bottom of the hamper beneath a pile of dirty clothes.
Maybe the demon wouldn’t think to look in that old storage shed behind the garage. The little boy jumped uncontrollably as the next angry bellow shook the hallway walls. It was coming out of the bedroom.
He had to get away. He could think of nowhere else to go. He would head for the shed.
The little boy’s bare feet slapped on the floorboards as he ran for the back door. He grasped the knob and pulled it open. The freezing night air hit him like an icy slap. He held tightly to the rickety banister as he scurried down the porch stairs. But in the panic of his headlong rush, he tripped on the steps and fell face first onto the frozen ground.
He landed hard, the breath knocked from his body. He could hear the demon bellowing once more from inside the house. The little boy gasped for air, forcing himself to lie still against the icy ground, against the chilling terror, until his lungs filled again and his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
He began to make out the faint silhouette of the garage. He got to his hands and knees and crawled beside its rough stucco wall until he reached the old, dilapidated shed behind it. He scrambled to his feet.
His small hands stretched above his head to feel for the rusted iron latch. With all his strength, he pulled the heavy wooden door toward him. He slipped inside the shed and closed the door behind him, hearing the latch click into place.
The shed was absolutely black. The hard earth floor was like ice beneath his bare feet. His knees and palms stung from his fall down the stairs.
The little boy paid no heed to these physical discomforts. He felt his way slowly over the rough-hewn, wood-splintered walls until he had reached the farthermost corner. He leaned his back against it and sunk to the ground.
It took a very long time before his heart stopped pounding against his thin ribs, before his breath stopped wheezing through his small lungs. Finally, he drifted into a blessed numbness, a welcome respite from the ripping terror.
He didn’t know how long he huddled there, but gradually he began to feel very cramped and tired and awfully cold. He shifted his position slightly, only to have his bare toes poked by the stiff bristles of a nearby broom. He longed to be stretched out on his bed beneath a warm blanket.
But he knew there were things much worse than being cramped and tired and cold. Much worse.
He could still hear the demon’s distant roar as it continued to search the house for him.
He shivered as the cold night breeze whipped through the wooden slats at his back. He could just make out an old tarp shoved against the shed’s wall a few feet away. He leaned forward and grasped the tarp’s edge and dragged it toward him. He dropped back into his corner and draped the old tarp over his small back and shoulders to keep off the draft.
The tarp was stiff and smelled of paint. He didn’t care. For a few precious moments, he almost felt warm. For a few precious moments, he thought he had escaped this night. For a few precious moments...
The back door to the house suddenly slammed. The heavy boots of the demon crunched over the frozen ground as they made their way to the garage, bringing an abrupt end to all the little boy’s hopes.
He burrowed his head between his knees as terror once again tore through his heart. It would search the garage, and when it didn’t find him there, it would be bound to search the old shed behind it.
He should have known the demon would find him. It always found him.
A sob broke through his small throat. No! No! Not again! He must find a way to escape before it came for him. He must!
Chapter One
Kay knew he was coming. She stood behind her desk and waited impatiently as she wondered why Adam Justice, her senior partner at the law offices of Justice Inc., had been so mysterious about this new client he was sending her.
The stranger stepped through the open doorway of her walnut-paneled office, halting uncertainly the second he saw her.
“You’re K. O. Kellogg?”
Kay nodded mutely, at the same time wincing internally at the surprise stamped on his face and in his deep voice. She should be reconciled to both by now. She wasn’t.
Still, just as she obviously didn’t fit his preconceived idea of a lawyer, he didn’t fit her preconceived idea of a psychologist.
His full, unruly, dark brown hair framed a ruggedly square, sun-darkened face. He looked as if he’d be far more at home at the helm of a ship than anchored to an analyst’s couch. Yet, in contrast to his rough, outdoorsy features, his dark dress slacks, tan cashmere jacket and open-necked, salmon-colored silk shirt bespoke a man thoroughly at ease in more formal, indoor settings.
“Please come in, Dr. Steele. I’ve been expecting you.”
He closed the door behind him and advanced into the room. His stride was long, muscular and powerful. His face was open, fluid and friendly.
Except, that is, for the sharp assessment in his glinting green eyes. Something about that intense, imposing glint belied the casual countenance of the man.
“I’m only Dr. Steele to my patients,” he said. “Call me Damian. And your first name is...?”
Kay leaned across her neat, polished walnut desk to extend her hand. “I’m called Kay.”
“Kay,” he repeated as his much larger hand engulfed hers and lingered, branding her with its gentle insistence. As she looked into those deep green eyes and felt the claim of his hand, a strange, warm sensation streaked down the back of her thighs.
Kay quickly slipped her eyes and her hand from his and sat down. She knew what that strange sensation was, of course. Her new shoes had to be cutting off the circulation in her legs. She had suspected the heels would be too high. Still, the idea of adding a full three inches to her height had been too enticing to resist.
That would teach her to watch those illogical impulses. As soon as this interview was over, she’d slip her feet into the pair of fuzzy slippers she kept in her drawer. Until then, she’d try to remain seated. She motioned toward one of the walnut-armed chairs in front of her desk.
“Were you expecting a man, Dr. Steele?”
He took the offered chair, but sat on its edge. “No. Your senior partner told me you were a woman.”
Kay thought as much. Adam Justice generally cleared that particular obstacle from the start. As for clearing the misleading image of her small size and too youthful face, well, here she was again, beginning the uphill climb. Kay took a deep, resolute breath.
“So, it’s my appearance that has caused your...surprise.”
His eyebrows raised slightly. He obviously had not expected her to address the issue so candidly. The upturn to the corners of his mouth hinted at a small amusement.
“Yes, Kay. You could say your appearance came as somewhat of a surprise.”
Well, at least he was open about it.
She felt the frown line forming between her eyebrows. “I hope you’re not the kind of man to be unduly influenced by appearances.”
He smiled directly at her frown. “I think you’d be safe in assuming I’m not.”
He had an inviting, disarming smile—the kind that made one instinctively trust him. Kay did not allow herself to succumb to any such instinct. She rested her hands on her desk and launched into the well-rehearsed litany of her professional credits.
“I’ve been a practicing attorney for six years, the last five at this firm. I was made a full partner fifteen months ago. Mr. Justice told me that your case involves an unusual civil matter. I’ve handled many civil matters for this firm, some of which have been most unusual. I’ve gone to trial on thirty cases and won twenty-nine.”
“Adam mentioned you had an impressive trial record.”
