“Katrina!” Jarrad roared, and she looked back as she let go of the wall, screaming, just catching sight of her husband before she disappeared. He lunged forward but was swiftly yanked back by Curtis, and the two men struggled and fought. “Katrina, no!”
Her scream faded to nothing.
And she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
RYAN
I’m unable to talk, and Lucinda is silent on the line, obviously letting my shock settle. I can’t form a coherent sentence, can’t even think one. I’m shaken to the core. I look across to the cabin where Hannah is sleeping. My messy, cute, wild Hannah. She’s nothing like the woman I see in this picture. “She faked her own death?” I mumble mindlessly. “What would push a woman to do that?” I can’t go on knowing this and say nothing to her.
“I don’t have the answer to that, Ryan,” Lucinda says softly. “I’m telling you what I found out.”
I smack my palm into my forehead a few times, a feeble attempt to knock myself out of my shock. Knight’s remarried. He’s over the death of Katrina Knight. Should I leave her dead? “Get me everything you can on Knight. If he so much as took a bar of soap from a hotel, I want to know about it.”
“I have no info on stolen bars of soap,” Lucinda quips drily. “But I’ll trump that with a suspicious death.”
“What?”
My phone pings again with another text. “That’s Quinton Brayfield,” she declares as I stare down at the picture of an elderly well-dressed man. “Owner of Brayfield Technologies. He was found dead at his home in Suffolk just over five years ago. Everything points to suicide, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Brayfield wasn’t suicidal,” Lucinda says. “My sources tell me that Knight wanted to buy Brayfield Tech, taking out one of his biggest rivals. Except Quinton Brayfield wouldn’t sell. His son and heir, Dale Brayfield, however, would. But he couldn’t do a thing so long as his old man was chairman of the board.”
“So you think Knight killed Quinton Brayfield?”
“It’s rather a large coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Was any of this ever investigated?”
“Knight assisted the police in their inquiries. He was never a suspect, and he had a very solid alibi on the night of Brayfield’s death. Guess who.”
My heart sinks. “Hannah,” I barely whisper.
“Hannah,” Lucinda confirms. “Or Katrina.”
I find a tree and slump against the trunk, utterly staggered by the barrage of information. It explains so fucking much. Hannah’s jumpiness, for a start. She’s worried he’ll find her. Is that what she meant by unhealthy? Lying for him? But to fake her own death?
“My head hurts,” I admit to Luce. I honestly don’t know what to do with all this now that I have it. Do I tell Hannah I know? What will she do? I can’t answer. But I do know that if I don’t say anything, she’ll let me love her. It’ll just be like before. I accepted I’d let it go. I promised her I’d let it go. I should just take this information and use it to understand Hannah and why she’s like she is. Maybe that’s the answer. She’ll never have to know that I know. If anything, it’s stripped the curiosity away and I won’t live each day looking at her and wondering. Because I know.
“It’s a lot to absorb,” Lucinda says more gently than is in her nature. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Have Knight watched,” I blurt, knowing I’m asking for too much. “Just for a while so I know he’s out of the picture.”
“You really do owe me,” she says, and then she hangs up, and it’s just me, the dark, the crickets, and a head about to explode. And then there’s the sound of my phone again, too. I see Jake’s name, and I feel bad for not answering. I just haven’t the brain capacity to explain. But he texts me.
I’ve spoken to Lucinda. Answer your fucking phone.
It rings again instantly, and I answer. “I’m stunned, Jake. How does someone pull off their own death like that?”
“A lot of planning and fake documents,” he says, and I could laugh. Hannah? She wouldn’t know how to get a fake handbag, let alone fake documents. “I put a few calls in,” he goes on. “After our conversation and speaking to Lucinda, I got the bug.”
“What bug?”
“The digging bug. It’s been a long time since I got to sink my teeth into something like this.”
“Glad I’m providing an outlet for your boredom,” I retort.
“I’m not bored. I’m restless. Don’t tell Cami.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “I saw Reggie Pike.”
My ears prick up. Now, there’s a blast from the past. “He’s still alive?” The old crook has been forging new identities for years. If someone wants fake papers, he’s the man to get them from. He doesn’t ask questions, he works fast, and he’s discreet. The latter being key here.
“Oh, he’s alive,” Jake says. “Albeit underground.”
“And?”
“And a little gentle persuading dug me up something.”
My eyebrow lifts. Gentle? Jake Sharp? I’m in that place again, the one between desperately needing to know and desperately not wanting to. But…“So what did the old creep say?”
“He never met the woman, so he can’t confirm her identity. But he did produce documents and a credit history for a Hannah Bright.”
“Fucking hell,” I breathe. “How would she know where to go for that kind of shit?” Reggie Pike isn’t the kind of man any woman should be friendly with. He’s a total slimeball.
“Can’t help you there, but I can tell you how she paid for it.”
“How?”
“A diamond-encrusted Cartier watch. She gave him the code for a safe-deposit box at a bank just outside London. Reggie took the watch and left the documents.”
I need to sit down. I’m not feeling all too stable. I move toward the nearest log and drop to my arse, rubbing my aching head. Where does it end?
“Is she safe?” Jake asks.
My hand stills on my forehead, and I stare at my bare feet.
“Because that’s the only question you need to consider, Ryan. You don’t need to get swallowed up in that shit. As long as she’s out of harm’s way, forget about everything else.”
Is it that easy? Just disregard all I know and start a life with Hannah? “I don’t know if I can do that, Jake.”
“What will happen if you don’t?” he asks. “Let me tell you.” He goes on before I have the chance to even think about it. “You find out every dirty, tiny, graphic detail. You lose your shit, because you will. Trust me, you’ll lose your shit. You’ll want vengeance. It’ll consume you to the point you lose sight of what’s standing in front of you. Hannah is standing in front of you. You’ll go on some mercy mission to get revenge for the woman you love, and risk everything you have right now. She’s Hannah now, not Katrina. She’s yours now, not his. Don’t do anything to jeopardize that. Right now, he’s remarried, over Hannah, and he’s moved on. Just keep this information, store it, because it’s not needed now and it might never be. Let. It. Be.”
Sometimes, all you need is your mate to kick your arse into shape. He’s right. Of course he’s right. What good will come of me digging any deeper? I have Hannah. She’s here with me and she’s safe. “I love you, mate.”
“Fuck off and go be happy, Ryan. She’s a good woman. Don’t force her back to places she doesn’t want to go. Trust me, it’s not fun reliving your past when it’s so bleak.” He hangs up, and I smile down at my phone, taking a few minutes to bring myself down from the tailspin of the past half hour.
Let it go. It’s for the best.
I spend a good ten minutes mentally repeating it to myself before I eventually find the energy to stand. Pushing myself up from the log, I wander back to the cabin and take off my jeans, leaving them in the pile by the door. As I approach Hannah, every kind of smile she’s ever given me flashes through my mind: cheeky, coy, unsure, happy, excited. Each one, I realize no
w, is so very precious. And I’m the reason for them. I’ll be dead before I’m the cause for her not to smile again. I have her. It’s enough.
I lower beside her and crawl in under the blankets. Her eyes open and she blinks. “Where have you been?” she croaks, letting me get comfortable before she crawls onto my chest and settles again.
“Nowhere important.” This here is important. Just this. “Go to sleep.” I kiss her hair and close my eyes.
All the things that still haunt her, I plan on eliminating with the power of my love.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HANNAH
I’m not asleep. I woke up as soon as I felt him moving, though I kept my eyes closed. He gently rolled me off his chest and eased me to my back, and then carefully spread his body all over mine, supporting his torso with his arms on either side of my head. I can feel his breath on my face, he’s so close. I keep my eyes closed, wondering what he’s going to do. Just watch me?
Ryan gave me so much at the lake last night. His heart. His trust. His love. After such a traumatic day, it was the greatest gift. All I saw in that moment was a man who knows me completely. Ryan accepts who I am. He loves me as I am. It’s more than I could ask for and probably more than I deserve when I’m keeping so much from him. But I don’t want to tarnish my happiness with misery from my past. I don’t want him to see me differently. Ryan made it possible for me to dare dream of something more than freedom.
A light breeze ghosts across my cheek from him blowing softly on my skin, and my lips start to twitch.
“And she smiles,” he whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“She can feel you watching her.” I open one eye and bring my hands up to his head. “Why are you watching her?”
“Because she’s a perfect mess, and she is my perfect mess.” He wrinkles his nose and kisses the tip of mine, reaching back and taking one of my hands from his head. He pushes it into the floor above me before claiming the other and doing the same, effectively pinning me down. His knees shuffle up until he’s straddling me.
“Wait,” I blurt, and he closes one eye and pouts. “I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“I already know that.” His face plummets to my neck and mauls me, biting and sucking, driving me instantly crazy.
“Ryan!” I laugh, my legs pointlessly wriggling beneath him. “Stop!”
“On one condition.”
“Whatever you want.” I giggle uncontrollably.
“Oh good. I’ll collect your stuff later.”
I still. “What?”
Ryan appears in my line of sight, his expression thoughtful. He seems to withdraw a little. “Will you move in with me?” he asks this time, rather than telling me.
Moving in? Like living here? He disappears into my neck again and starts going at my flesh like it’s a steak and he’s a wolf that hasn’t eaten in a year, but I’m not laughing now. Now I’m too stunned. “You want me to live here?”
He doesn’t feel it necessary to come up for air or face me during this monumental conversation in our relationship, though his lips stop moving across my neck. “Yes.”
“Look at me.”
He pops up sporting an adorably shy smile. “I didn’t mean to demand it. Guess I got carried away. But you said you’d do anything.” He shrugs. “So I’d love it if you did that.”
His face, his words, the bloody crazy subject matter. And maybe my unrelenting happiness, too. It all has me bursting out laughing, my knee coming up and colliding with something.
I hear his blood-curdling retch first, followed by a rather high-pitch squeak, before his eyes go round and he falls like a sack of shit to the floor next to me, whimpering. My laughter disappears. Oh shit. He cups his groin and curls onto his side like a baby, whining in pain. “I can’t fucking breathe,” he gasps.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” I dive up and kneel next to him, patting at his naked body as he groans and whimpers. “Are you okay? Should I get ice?” What’s the protocol for such situations?
“Just give me a second.” He gags, and recoils on a wince. “Just a second.”
I wait, useless beside him, as he takes the time he needs, his breathing eventually falling into controlled, deep inhales and exhales. “Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
He rolls to his back and looks up at me, his hands still cupping his groin. “You might have just kissed goodbye to that baby you want.”
My back straightens. First I’m moving in and now babies? “This morning is moving pretty fast.”
“Yeah, I know. And your knee is moving the fastest.”
“Should I kiss it better?”
His eyes light up like diamonds. Of course they do. “Well, you know, it might make it better. And maybe you’ll save my baby-making abilities and we can have one someday.” He shrugs a little. “Of course, if you want to. When you’re ready.”
God love this beautiful man. “Are you hanging the possibility of us having a baby on the quality of a blow job?” What is this crazy conversation we’re having?
“Absolutely.” He winks and props his arms behind his head, getting all comfortable.
Oh, the pressure. But oh the sight of his lean body stretched out before me. I rest my palm on one side of his torso and swing my bent leg over, coming to rest on his stomach. He half smirks up at me, rolling his groin up into my bottom. “Someone recovered quickly,” I quip, slowly lowering and kissing the middle of his chest.
“You’re the cure for everything, Hannah.” He growls, the sound rumbling up from his toes, and I smile against his skin, thinking the very same about him. I start kissing and sucking my way down his body, and with every inch I progress, Ryan’s body becomes harder, his hands moving to my head and holding me steady. “Gentle,” he murmurs as I stroke down his shaft with my flat palm. I leave his arousal resting on his lower stomach and kiss the base, watching as the vein running the length of his cock pulses. His hips rise, his hands firming up on my head.
“Dad!”
I scramble up, straddling his thighs, and Ryan’s neck cricks with the speed at which he looks at the door. “No.”
“Dad!” Alex’s distant yell kills our passion dead in its tracks.
“She sounds panicked,” I say, rushing to get up and wrap myself in the blanket, leaving Ryan naked and with nothing to cover himself.
“That’s not panicked. That’s angry.” He sits up, seeming in no rush to remedy his nakedness. “I’ve never wished you to fuck off, Cabbage, but, please, just this once, fuck off.”
I smack his stomach on a sharp burst of laughter. “You can’t say that.”
“God have mercy on my soul,” he grunts, dragging himself to his feet. “Shit, I’ve got a bellyache.” He walks to the door a little gingerly and pulls his jeans on with a few uncomfortable hisses. Then he swings the door open. “Hey, Cab…” He recoils. “What the hell do you look like?”
“I know!” she shrieks, throwing her arms up in the air in complete exasperation.
I don’t blame her. She could’ve had a fight with a psychotic makeup artist and a possessed hairstylist. I have to put my hand over my mouth to stop my laughter from breaking free and undoubtedly pissing her off even more. She’s a pile of ringlets, pink frills, and puffy fabric.
“Dad, you have to do something.” Alex pushes her bunched fists into his chest. “She’s lost it completely, and it’s your fault.”
“How?” Ryan asks, staring down at his daughter like she just disembarked from the circus train.
“Because she fell in love with you,” she cries, her forehead flopping forward, no doubt smearing foundation all over Ryan’s chest. “Since she found out about you and Hannah, she’s been worse, Dad. Ten times worse!” Nudging Ryan out of the way, Alex storms into the cabin, and my ability to contain my amusement is lost. I snort past the hand on my mouth, quickly looking away, hoping I can pass off my laughter with a cough.
“Stop lau
ghing,” Alex mutters. “I’m blaming you, too.”
“Me?” I blurt, pulling the blanket in and getting to my feet. “What did I do?”
She huffs and stomps over to the fridge, and a chorus of bangs and clatters ensues as she opens and slams a few doors and drawers until she’s scoffing down a tub of Chunky Monkey. “I’m not going like this,” she waffles around her spoon. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
Ryan sighs and shuts the door, joining Alex and claiming the spoon when it’s halfway to her mouth again. She battles his intention to steal her goods and lunges forward with her mouth open to take the spoonful before Ryan gets it. “Share,” he orders, prizing the tub away.
“It’s not so bad,” I say, trying to appease her, making another quick assessment of her pageant outfit. God, it’s terrible. What is Darcy thinking?
“Really?” Alex asks sarcastically.
“Okay, you look like the Sugar Plum Fairy gone wrong,” I admit on a shrug.
Ryan coughs around his mouthful of ice cream, dribbling some down his chin, and of course this just sets me off again. My laughing only encourages Ryan’s, until we’re both howling and Alex is red in the face. Her head looks like it’s about to pop off.
“Right.” She throws each of us a filthy glare and marches over to the door, looking back fiercely as she swings it open. “I’ll blame you two.” Stepping out, she slams the door with brute force.
I frown at Ryan, who’s currently staring at the door a bit bewildered. “Blame us for what?” I ask, following him to the kitchen window. We both look out as Alex stamps her way to the compost heap. “What’s she doing?”
Ryan wedges the spoon into the tub as Alex comes to a stop. “She’s about to dive into that pile of mud.”
“What?” I watch in horror as she takes a few steps back, giving herself space to run. “No!” I yell, scrambling for the door. Oh my days, her mother will have heart failure and it’ll be all my fault. “Alex, don’t do it!”
I trip my way down the veranda steps, the blankets getting all caught up in my legs. I’m not even halfway across the lawn before I realize I’ll never make it in time to stop her. I slow and close one eye on a screwed-up nose as she runs and jumps, her arms and legs out like she could be skydiving from a plane twelve thousand feet up.
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