“I like you, too.”
I love you.
Waking up the next morning, I looked and noticed Kai wasn’t in bed next to me again. What time did he get up? He went to bed with me, but did he even sleep? He always seemed to be doing something, moving or thinking or running around. I wiped my eyes awake and yawned, checking the clock. It was a little after eight. Later than I usually got up, but we’d only gotten to bed six hours ago, too.
Rising, I walked to his dresser and opened the drawers, finding another pair of boxer shorts. I slipped them on and then trailed to the closet, opening the door and going wide-eyed at being confronted with the massive space. I’d dove in here yesterday to grab a shirt for the party, but I didn’t have time to appreciate it.
I walked in. And kept walking. His smell flooded my head, and I almost felt dizzy.
The walk-in closet was exactly Kai, and I shook my head, feeling so stupid. I should’ve pushed harder. I knew exactly what kind of house he would have. Didn’t I tell him? Beautiful décor, expensive furniture, all of his starched shirts lined up on wooden hangers with just the right amount of equal-fucking-space between each piece of clothing, for crying out loud. A man who took pride in every single, minute aspect of his life.
I ran my hands down the line of white shirts, feeling the soft, cool fabric between my fingers. Good God, I was surprised he let me touch him with my germs. I laughed to myself. He was like Christian Grey meets Howard Hughes meets Patrick Bateman. If I find a chainsaw or an ax inside the house, I’m outta here.
I pushed all the hangers down to the end, smashing the shirts together and wrecking his perfect little world, while laughing to myself as I pulled a blue long-sleeve off a hanger. Slipping it on, I buttoned it up, locked my hands behind my back and left the closet, whistling.
I had to get back to my place to get a change of clothes at some point. I’d been in Kai’s clothes for two days now.
Leaving the bedroom, I walked down the hallway and descended the stairs, heading around the bannister, toward the dining room. The caterers had cleaned up all their set-up last night after most of the guests had left, but I caught sight of the sheet tent still sitting in the living room and pillows scattered about.
“He’s not at The Pope. We searched the twelfth floor,” I heard Kai say.
I slowed down, stopping right before the dining room.
“Are you sure he’s not on another floor?” Michael asked.
“Yes. He’s not fucking there.”
Damon.
I peeked in, seeing Kai and his friends, including Will, Michael, and Rika lounging around the table as they nibbled some breakfast. No one was really dressed yet, still wearing their sleepwear.
Rika held up a large yellow envelope, her other hand fanning over a pile of little boxes. Were those matches?
“We don’t know this is from him,” she told Kai.
“Who else would it be from?”
“Look at the postmark!” she burst out, sounding angry as she tossed the envelope at him across the table. “It’s from Mexico City. He’s not here.”
“Look at the matchbooks!” he growled back. “He could’ve had anyone mail this from anywhere he wanted. And he addressed it to you. This is a message. He’s not just threatening me anymore.”
He grabbed the envelope and flung it back at her.
Matchbooks. I studied the pile of small boxes and books on the table that had obviously come in the envelope, seeing a silver box that I recognized right away as being from Realm, a nightclub the guys frequented here in Meridian City. Were they all from this area? Was that why Kai was worried?
Michael ran his hands through his hair and down over his face.
“So, what are you going do?” she challenged Kai. “Lose your minds running around in circles while he laughs at us? Damon is playing games. He won’t do anything.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he had a dozen chances with me last year, and he stopped! Every time!” She rose from her seat, pushing it in. “He enjoys fucking with our heads. That’s all. Just leave it alone.”
“Why do you always say that?”
Rika hesitated, staring at him. “What?”
Kai lowered his voice to normal and approached, challenging her. “Every time we want to deal with him, you tell us to leave him alone,” he bit out. “He has shit on me. He tried to kill Will. What the hell is the matter with you? Why are you protecting him?”
Her mouth fell open, and my heart sped up. She looked affronted at the accusation.
Her eyes shot to Michael and then Will, who all stared at her the same as Kai. Protecting him? Why would they think that?
No one said anything, and then she blinked, scoffing as she grabbed her plate and walked away from all of them, toward me and the doorway.
I stepped out from behind the wall, out of her way, and she charged past me without a glance.
Kai noticed me, and his expression softened. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s breakfast.”
I looked at the spread on the buffet table, nodding. “Yeah, in a minute.”
I turned and walked past the stairs, into the study, and saw Rika disappear with her plate out into the garden.
After last night, I didn’t think we were friends, but I was curious. If my brother sent her a package to scare her, why wasn’t she more concerned? It wasn’t only Kai picking up on her signals, either. The way Michael and Will had looked at her…
I followed her outside, thankful for the clouds blocking out the bright morning sun. She settled herself on the ground, leaning up against a tree. Resting her head back, she placed her plate of food at her side but didn’t eat.
I walked over to her.
“Hey,” I said as I crouched down and laid on the ground.
She nodded, still looking preoccupied.
“Damon sent you matchbooks?” I asked, not hesitating. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I collect them,” she answered. “My father used to bring some back from his travels, and I started hoarding them. Michael carried on the tradition, bringing me back ones he finds on trips out of town I don’t join him on.”
So, Damon knew she liked them. “And he sent you ones from Meridian City,” I figured. He wanted her to know he’d been here. Or that he was here now.
She was quiet for a while, and I wanted to ask more—ask why she wasn’t angry—but we weren’t friends, and I knew she didn’t trust me. After what happened last night, though, I hoped we could talk a little easier.
“You grew up with Damon?” she asked.
“For a while.”
She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped, hesitating.
“Did you ever… see anything?” she asked, picking at her thumbs in her lap. “Things that might’ve happened to him?”
What?
She knew?
“Did Damon tell you something?” I questioned.
“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “Michael’s brother, Trevor, did, though, once. I had no reason to trust him, but I can’t imagine why he’d make up a story like that. It made sense, given the way Damon is.”
She finally looked up, and I was afraid of what she’d say. Damon didn’t want anyone to know about anything that happened at home. I couldn’t talk about this.
“He said Damon’s mother…” she said, looking like she was struggling to get the words out, “that she started hurting him when he was twelve.” And then she closed her eyes, lowering her voice. “Raping him.”
So, she knew. Had she told Michael?
“God, it makes me sick just thinking about it.” She sucked in a breath, looking away.
But then she just shrugged, waving me off. “Never mind. It’s still no excuse. I just think if he wanted to act he would’ve a long time ago, and we should just leave well-enough alone. Maybe he’s suffered, and while I’ll never forgive him, let him try to find what peace he can. He’s sick, and no good comes from poking a sleeping bear.”
I agreed with her. It was still no excuse. Plenty of people had it rough and behaved just fine.
In theory.
But when you’re in the thick of abuse and still live with the torment in your head every day, it’s a little different. No one handles it. They just fake it better. How else do you cope with the terrible shit you’ve been through?
“He never cried,” I told her, my voice quiet. “I’ve never seen him cry.”
She remained quiet, and I turned my eyes up to the sky.
“When she’d come in, he’d make me hide,” I continued, my pulse echoing in my ears. “In the closet with his headphones on. And after it was done, he would let me out, and then he’d go take a shower. Sometimes he was in there for an hour. Sometimes three or four.”
Tears sprang up, and I closed my eyes.
The creaks of the bed would breach the music in my ears sometimes. I could still hear it.
“He’d stay in the shower for however long it took to get himself straight again,” I told her. “Sometimes the cuts were on his arms or his chest. Depending on the season and what his clothes would cover.” Silent tears streamed down my temples. “When he was fifteen, he started slicing the bottom of his feet, so he would feel it every time he walked. I didn’t understand how he could run on the basketball court with the pain. His socks were soaked in blood sometimes.” I looked over at her, the blue of her eyes shimmering like a pool. “And there were other things he’d do. Ways he’d make me hurt him…” I paused and then continued. “Until the night it was time to hurt her.”
Damon had beat his mother bloody one night, and we thought that was the last we’d ever see of her. That was the night he stopped hurting himself, because he learned how good it felt for him to hurt others. He didn’t need to suffer anymore.
“Damon eats pain,” I told her. “He will find some way to take it and twist it and fit it down his throat, so he can swallow it. He’s made of it. You all can endure it until you overcome it, but Damon…he wants to be in hell.”
It’s where he shines.
I turned my eyes back up to the sky, sliding an arm under my head. “But still…he never cried.”
Kai
Present
A feathery touch caressed my face, and I stirred, realizing I’d been asleep. My head was like dead weight, and I couldn’t lift it.
Blinking, I saw light pour into the room and Banks lying next to me. I grinned. I’d always hated sleeping with other people—like actual sleep, in the same bed.
She was so quiet, though. And I liked seeing her the moment I woke up.
Reaching out, I snaked an arm round her waist and pulled her in close.
But she was stiff, and something was off. I closed my fingers around her skin, but it wasn’t skin I was feeling. It was clothing.
I opened my eyes fully and saw that she had her head turned toward me, watching me.
Her eyes looked sad.
“What is it, baby?” I pushed myself up on my elbows and turned toward her, keeping my arm around her. “What’s going on? Why are you dressed?”
She was wearing the same outfit she came in a couple days ago.
Her whisper was small as she brushed the back of her hand across my cheek. “Don’t forget how this feels.”
I dug in my eyebrows. “What?”
Pushing myself up, I sat on my knees and noticed her phone in her hand. An unsettling feeling hit me. What did she mean?
I grabbed her phone, and she let me, quietly watching me as I read the screen.
Look out the window.
I didn’t recognize the number, and she didn’t have the contact saved. No name. A single text.
I looked at her, searching for an explanation, but she seemed paralyzed.
I slid off the bed. Walking to the bedroom window, the one facing the city in the distance, I looked out, my stomach immediately sinking.
A cloud of black smoke poured into the sky, and it was coming from this side of the river. From Whitehall. I could hear the faint siren of the fire trucks from here, and a helicopter even hovered close.
“What is that?” I asked, turning my eyes on her. “What’s going on?”
She swallowed, sitting up with her head bowed. She wouldn’t even look at me.
“What is that?” I yelled, grabbing her and hauling her up.
Her breathing quickened. “Sensou.”
No. I released her and bolted out of the room, running down the stairs. But the front door opened before I got there, and I looked up to see Michael, Will, and Rika bursting through.
Will caught me, trying to keep me from running outside.
“It’s too late. It’s gone,” he said, pushing me back and looking pained.
My hand shot to my hair, and I stared out the front door, seeing all the smoke blacken the sky.
God, no.
Rika cried softly in the foyer, and I thought of everything I had built in that place. All my father’s weapons he’d donated when I opened it up. Gone. All the records and leases, everything was there! I did all of our business out of there.
And the clientele we’d built up? Gone. It would take months to rebuild.
I clenched my fucking teeth together, the pain of the loss damn near unbearable.
“There will be more fires,” I heard Banks say.
My sadness morphed into anger, and I whipped around, seeing her walk slowly down the stairs.
Damon had texted her.
“And he’ll bring them to Thunder Bay, too,” she warned. “It’s out of Gabriel’s control.”
How long had she let me sleep? Just long enough for the fire to wipe out everything?
I held up the phone, checking the time on the text.
Six minutes ago.
I pressed the Phone icon on the message and brought it up to my ear, letting it ring.
But a voice recording came on, saying the line was out of service. He was using a burner. I ended the call and spun around, launching the phone out into the driveway and into the brush beyond the gate.
After a moment, Michael chimed in. “Fire trucks are already there. Get dressed.”
But I approached Banks as she cautiously stepped to the bottom of the staircase.
“I didn’t know,” she said.
“Would you have stopped him if you did?”
Hurt flashed across her eyes, but her silence said everything.
A shadow fell over the room, blocking out the sunlight, and I turned to see Gabriel’s guys, the same ones who collected her from Michael’s party that night, standing right outside the door.
The shaved head one—David, I think—looked past me and tipped his chin at her. “Let’s go.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” I turned, putting me between them and her.
“Vanessa is gone,” David said, stepping into the house. “Someone got to her. Scared her off. She wants no part of this.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I growled back, gesturing to Banks. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“The wedding is off. No deal,” he repeated, and I moved to advance on him, but he opened his jacket, putting his hand on his hips.
It was a causal action, but a gesture with purpose to make sure I saw the gun he had tucked in a holster under his arm. I moved for him.
But Michael shot out his hand, stopping me. “They have guns. We have nothing. Be patient.”
Every fucking muscle tightened, and I balled my fists, squeezing them so hard they hurt.
“Don’t worry.” David smirked. “We won’t force her to go if she wants to stay.”
I turned, meeting her eyes, and when she faltered, I knew what her decision was. My blood boiled.
Fuck you.
Maybe she was actually choosing them or maybe she thought she could keep Damon away from us if she left, but I was done trying to be the man I thought I should be. The man I was in high school.
No begging. If she liked men who took, I could take.
She walked pas
t me, and I turned, watching her leave with them.
She spun around, walking backwards as she spoke to me with tears in her eyes.
“It was all so easy,” she said quietly. “All you had to do was ask my name.”
I faltered. What was she talking about? I knew her name.
They left, and the four of us stared after the black SUV as it sped out of the driveway.
The smoke from the fire had drifted up into the hills, and I could smell the burning wood and tar from the roof. There would be more fires, and this was just the start. Devil’s Night didn’t even start until midnight.
I turned to Rika, seeing her eyes dry but red. “Now do you see?” I told her. She had to stop expecting better of him. That was our place. Our business. My livelihood.
“So, Devil’s Night is coming no matter what we do,” Will chimed in.
I nodded. “And we have one piece of leverage,” I said, turning to Michael. “Do we want to use it?”
But strangely, he smiled. “Actually,” he said. “You have another card to play.”
I do?
He leaned in, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her name…is Nikova,” he told me. “Think real hard. It will come to you.”
Nik.
I thought maybe Nikki? Maybe Nicole?
Nope.
Nikova.
The female variant of Nikov. As in Gabriel Torrance, born Gabriel Nikov, whose family adopted the more “American” surname of Torrance for their business dealings when they immigrated.
Gabriel still used Nikov, though. From time to time.
And it seemed he wouldn’t allow his illegitimate daughter to have his family name, so the mother, to spite him, gave it to her for her first name.
Clever, really. It probably pissed him off, but he couldn’t stop her.
“What are you doing here, boy?”
I walked into Gabriel’s office, Will and Michael at my side.
Two of Gabriel’s guys stood off to the back, guarding the door we just entered through, but my eyes flashed up to Banks, who stood at her father’s side dressed in Damon’s clothes again.
So much made sense now.
But it didn’t make anything better.
Hideaway Page 37
