“Valentine Shadows,” I replied. “I know it’s a long shot, but I read that name in a family bible.”
“The Shadows were a well-established family in Cambridge before their children moved away wanting the big city. If you need more assistance with information on them, I’d be happy to assist you.”
I stood as did Sterling. “Thank you again.”
“Kennedy,” Pastor Fellows said, “one more thing. I’m not sure if this will help you or not. However, being connected to the Shadows...well, I’ve always been curious. The senior minister before me told me about something. He also didn’t know what it was. However, for years we’ve held on to it.”
My eyes widened as I looked again between Jackie and Sterling. “What?”
She stood and went to a large bookshelf behind her desk, one filling the expanse of the wall nearly to the ceiling. The spines of many of the books appeared old while there were also newer editions. Walking the length of the shelf and back, she murmured to herself. She reached upward, standing on her tiptoes to retrieve something from a higher, less-accessible shelf.
“May I help you?” Sterling offered.
“Thank you. It’s the one...” She pointed. “...with the worn leather spine.”
Sterling reached above her, tipping the book back. As he did, his neck straightened.
He lowered the book. Turning it in his large hands, he revealed a lock where the pages should be. “This isn’t a book.”
Minister Fellows took it from his hand and turned to me. “It’s something that has been passed on between senior ministers for years. There was some discussion of breaking the lock, but it seemed that the mystery superseded the need to learn its contents. Kenneth Watkins was a pillar, a man highly regarded in this community. I hope that for his memory, if your key fits, you will respect his loyalty to your father. I...well, no one wants to believe Pastor Watkins would be hiding anything that would bring shame on his name or this church.”
She handed me the lockbox.
My pulse accelerated as I held the box that appeared from a distance to be a leather-bound book. In my grasp, it was considerably lighter than a book its size should be. I swallowed back the emotion as some contents within rattled. “Thank you.”
“Do you want to see if your key works?” she asked.
My hands were once again shaking. “I-I think...if you don’t mind. I would like to do that in private.”
She nodded and stepped around the desk. “I’ll give you two a moment. If it fits, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, please leave it on my desk and maybe another day the mystery will be solved.”
Once the door shut, I laid the box on the minister’s desk and turned to Sterling. His gaze was dark, yet his expression had changed from one of concern and irritation that I was speaking to the minister to one of anticipation.
“Fuck,” he growled under his breath. “This could be it.”
I fumbled with the key, finally handing it his way. “Please do it. You’re with me. That’s all I want. I can’t open it. I can’t see if there are pictures.”
“McFadden said CDs.”
I extended my hand with the key. “Please, Sterling.”
Maybe the man beside me wasn’t the villain but Prince Charming, and instead of a shoe that needed to fit, it was a key.
His chest expanded and contracted. With his gaze set on me, I nodded again.
Taking the key from my hand, he inserted it into the keyhole and turned...
Josey
Ten years ago~
Byron shut the door of our bedroom, closing us away from the world—our safe place that was no longer safe.
Renee and a friend were down the hall in her bedroom doing homework and listening to music. Normally, I might tell them to turn the music down, but at present, the loud tunes were a barrier keeping Byron’s and my conversation private.
While the January wind blew snow through the air outside of our home, ice ran through my veins. I walked to the window and closed the curtains, no longer confident of our safety or security.
It was no longer veiled threats, but outright warnings.
Our voices were hushed yet urgent.
“It’s come. I know it. We have to move now,” I said.
His eyes shut. “I can try to talk to him.”
“You’re dead.” Neal was dead. “You’ve been telling me that for years. What makes you think Allister Sparrow will talk to you now?”
Byron reached for my shoulders. “We won’t let them have her—won’t let him.”
My eyes closed at the reality of my biggest fear—greatest nightmare—coming true. “The call said...” I swallowed back the bile bubbling in my gut. “...her birth father lied. He was found dead. Story is that he hanged himself. The man on the phone said her time is up and to await instructions.” Tears over spilled my gray eyes as I tried unsuccessfully to rein in the fear and frustration. “We’ve done everything he asked. We’ve complied and now he knows where we are, where you work, where she goes to school. He knows everything. We complied and by doing so, played into his hand.”
“He doesn’t know everything,” Byron said.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you from the beginning that I’ve been planning and saving. We could...disappear.”
“All three of us?”
He nodded.
I let out a breath and sank to the edge of the bed. “Will it be safe for her?”
“I made a connection. He’s not through the outfit. He’s not through any outfit. He’s from Boeing. He makes extra money with government contracts and well, he knows things, how to make things look legit. He can help.”
I shook my head. “I’m so tired of lying. I want to go away...” I looked up. “...maybe Washington state or Montana, somewhere remote, somewhere without crime.”
“Baby, that place doesn’t exist.”
“We have to get out of Chicago,” I pleaded.
“If you think all three of us can get into a car, plane, or train and disappear into the sunset, I’m afraid you’re wrong.”
I looked up at my husband, really seeing what the last sixteen years had done to him, how they’d aged him. The lines in his face were deeper. His back slouched, rounding what was once proud, the physical result of carrying the burden of our deceptions.
“But you said the three—”
“This man,” Byron interrupted, “I’ve told him some of our needs, not all. He thinks the best chance for Renee is to separate from us. Sparrow will be looking for three of us, not one.”
My breath caught in my chest. “No. I can’t do that. I can’t. She’s sixteen years old. What will we do, leave her? I couldn’t...” I stood. “...I won’t.” I recalled the veiled threats from the recurring visits by that man—the census taker and track meet spectator. “Byron, you know what will happen to her if they find her. You know.” I laid my hand on the front of his shirt. “In here. In your heart, you know. I would die before I allowed her into that life. If Sparrow is upset with her birth father, he’s not above taking it out on her.”
Byron’s jaw set as his stare disappeared for a moment behind closed eyes. When his eyes opened, he made a declaration I never expected.
“I have to die in her place.”
I gasped, taking a step back. “What? No. I don’t want to lose either of you.”
He shook his head. “Listen, Josey. There’s a plan. We can’t all travel together. According to my resource, he suggested making a clean break. I will die—disappear first.”
“Are you leaving us?”
“Hell no. I’ll go ahead and get something set up for us. My contact can help. If Sparrow believes it, maybe it will satisfy him, stop him from looking.”
I paced, turning every few steps like a caged animal. “And then what?”
Byron went to the closet and pushed over the sliding door. Inside were years and years of life’s accumulations: clothes that no longer fit, shoes no longer in style, as well as boxes of pic
tures chronicling our happy family. From under a stack of shoe boxes, he retrieved a manila envelope, one I couldn’t recall seeing before.
He handed it my direction.
“What is this?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.
“It contains fake identifications for all three of us.”
Untucking the lip of the envelope, I dumped the contents from within onto the cover of our bed. Birth certificates, passports, and four IDs became visible. I reached for one with Renee’s picture and then another. “Why does she have two?”
“Because she’s sixteen. Some airlines will allow her to fly alone, but not all. He said it was a safety net.”
I read the name: Kennedy Hawkins. The reality hit me like a punch to my gut, a momentary loss of air as dread flowed through my body. “I-I can’t...” I picked up the one with my picture. “Why are our names different?”
Byron reached for my hands and directed me to sit on the bed. “It’s her best and possibly only chance. Sparrow’s influence is far-reaching. We saw that years ago when I tried to get employment in other states. If he wants to find us, he will. We have few options. Separating, letting Renee go, will make her less of a target. He’ll be looking for all three of us. He knows how much we care for her. He’d never suspect that we’d separate.”
“I-I...” Words were hard to form. “But I do love her. You love her.” I searched his eyes. “Tell me you do. Tell me this hasn’t all been an act.”
“Josey, I fucking love her more than if she were our own. We’ve always known she wasn’t. We’ve always known this could happen.”
“So we...” Standing, I turned circles. “...what? Put her on a plane and never see her again? How does she live? How does she survive? What if they find her?”
“I told you that I’ve been saving money. I’ve accumulated enough to keep her in a good private school through high school, and if she chooses a state school or gets scholarships, it will cover most of her tuition and board through her undergraduate years. We always wanted her to go to college. I’m not saying it’s ideal. I’m saying that this is the best way to hide her from Sparrow. I’ve researched private schools. I found one that if they can be convinced that through the death of her parents, arrangements were set for her emancipation, they’ll allow her to stay there.”
I let out a long sigh. “What about us?”
He sighed. “Giving all of that money to her won’t leave us with much, but I think I have a solution.”
My head was pounding. He wanted to send Renee away. He wanted to give her all we’ve saved, yet he thought he had a solution. “What?”
“That’s what I need to go ahead and check out. There’s a community in Maine.” He forced a smile. “You said you wanted remote. This place is completely off the grid. No telephones. No internet. No cell phones. Nothing. They help people who need help and everyone works together to keep the community self-sufficient. It will be a place where we can disappear.”
My eyes grew wide, staring at my husband as if he were someone I’d never met. “You want to go to a what? A commune? A cult? And send Renee to a private boarding school where we won’t be able to reach or contact her?”
“Josey, I want all three of us to live to see tomorrow. I don’t want Renee living in a commune. I want her to have a life, for her to have a chance at a life. I want to wake up next to you for the next thirty years and not share a shallow grave. That’s what I want.”
Araneae
After thanking Minister Fellows, Sterling and I left the church with the lockbox in tow. The world seemed a new place as we passed other workers arriving and the late summer air continued to burn off the morning dew.
Patrick met us at the sedan, his questioning stare penetrating through the darkness of his now-donned sunglasses. We rode in virtual silence until we reached the airport and boarded the plane. Once aboard with the door closed, the three of us were a chorus of voices asking as well as telling.
“There are no pictures,” Sterling said, so far being the only one to look inside and see the contents. “There are CDs, but more than McFadden said. He’d told me there would be six. I didn’t take the time to count, but I’d estimate that there are at least a dozen. There were also a few floppy disks and multiple envelopes with documents. I didn’t take the time to look at any of it closely.”
I shook my head, leaning against the back of a tall chair sitting at the round table at the front of the plane with Patrick and Sterling. “So we take it all to McFadden and life goes on?”
“No,” both men said in unison.
“What? I want this over.”
“So do we,” Sterling responded, “but we’re not handing over information that we don’t know what it entails.”
“You’re going to copy it, aren’t you?” I asked pointedly, looking at both men. “You’re not going to let this die.”
“We’re going to take it to Reid and learn the contents,” Patrick said in his calming tone.
“And then you’re going to decide what is shared,” I added, “the three of you.
“No, Araneae,” Sterling replied. “The one making that decision would be you.”
“What?”
“It’s yours. You may not want to know what it contains, but I’ve been thinking about something you said. You asked me if I found you for the purpose of finding the evidence so I would be in control of its dissemination.”
I nodded, remembering the conversation.
“I did,” he said matter-of-factly.
My chest grew tight at his confession.
“And I was wrong,” he went on. “That said, finding you, Araneae, wasn’t wrong. The choice is yours completely with what happens to whatever’s in this box. First, let Reid find out what it contains.”
I sucked in a breath, looking into Sterling’s dark eyes and back to Patrick’s as my mind swirled with the ramifications. “Tell me,” I declared, “if there’s evidence about Sparrow, about your father’s involvement, what will that mean for you, for all of you? That FBI agent, Wesley Hunter, he wants evidence against you. He wants me to testify. I don’t want to know what’s on there. I don’t want to do that.”
“In a way,” Sterling said, “that’s what your mother said about not wanting to know what your father did or what he had.”
“She said that even if she knew, she couldn’t be compelled to testify against him because he was her husband.” My heartbeat accelerated as I stared at Sterling. “Do you remember those words?”
The plane was now high in the sky as Sterling unbuckled his seat belt and came my way. His expression was suddenly dark, darker than my question should have instilled. With a tug, my seat belt came undone. I hesitated as he encouraged me to stand.
Yet as I did, he reached for my wrist and without a word led me through the main cabin and back to the bedroom.
Once the door was shut, I found myself pinned against the wall, his solid body on mine and his dark, penetrating gaze taking my breath away.
“Sterling...”
His lips came to mine, demanding, possessive, bruising.
His hard chest pressed against mine, flattening my breasts as his arms created a cage near my face. When we finally pulled apart, I looked up expectantly, wanting to hear the words.
“You are mine,” he declared, yet his expression was not one of adoration. “You fucking have been for nineteen years. For most of that time you didn’t know, you didn’t understand. I knew you were mine. Now I know so much more.” He leaned back, looking down over my t-shirt and jeans. “I know every fucking curve you have hidden under those clothes. I know the way your body responds to not only my actions but also my words and even expressions. I fucking love how wet you get, how hard your perfect nipples become, and the way you say my name all breathy as you’re falling apart.”
My breasts moved against his chest, fighting for air to fill my lungs.
“I fucking know the words you mentioned. I know them because a beautiful, magnificent, intelligen
t, loving, and amazing woman taught them to me.” His finger caressed my cheek. “She taught me more than that. In a short time, she taught me that I was capable of more than power and violence. She showed me that I can love. That’s the woman I want to share my name, my life, my bed forever.”
He took a step back.
“Sterling?”
His head shook. “I won’t use those words, not yet. I never want you to think that I’d propose to you to stay out of prison or to keep my family name out of the news. Araneae, you deserve so much fucking more than that.”
“But...it’s a solution.”
“No, sunshine. It’s forever and I want to spend it with you once we know what forever means.”
He came closer and brushed a chaste kiss over my lips. “And if you ever take my control away like that again in front of Patrick or anyone, your ass is mine.”
I took a step closer and placing my hands on his shoulders, lifted my tennis-shoe-covered feet up to my tiptoes. “Yes, Mr. Sparrow.”
He reached down as his fingers splayed over my backside. “It’s already mine. One more thing.”
“What?”
“Lockdown. All of us, until this is settled. Even Sinful Threads.”
“What?”
“Chicago office. Jana gets the rest of the week off. You can handle business from the penthouse.”
I considered arguing and telling him that my business was off-limits to his rules, but then again, McFadden’s deadline was looming. Today was Wednesday. Labor Day was Monday—in five days.
I could follow Sterling’s rules for five more days if when they were done, we could move on. “When this is over,” I said, repeating something we’d discussed before, “you promised me more control.”
He leaned forward until our foreheads touched. “When it’s over.”
I smiled. “Then I can wait.”
Sterling
Promises Page 20
