It had been almost three weeks since I’d stared at my ex-husband over a pool of cooling blood while death stained the air.
Boston was the very last place on earth I’d ever wanted to see again.
But it was becoming very painful to stay here as well.
An airport is a terribly lonely place at three a.m.
But I’m used to being alone.
Seth had been out of the hospital for almost two weeks. Last week, his brother came up, along with a brother-in-law, and they packed up his things. He was leaving, moving back to Savannah. He wanted to be near his parents, his sister and their kids for a while. He might stay there, he might not. He didn’t know. Losing Marla made him realize he needed to mend the rifts between him and his family and it was time to do that.
I understood.
But I missed him.
He might have come back to see me off if I’d asked him, or maybe he’d text me if I told him what was going on.
They had reopened the case against Stefan and they needed me to come back to Boston. Apparently two acquaintances of his had disappeared. One shortly before he met me, and one from almost ten years ago.
What they expected me to tell them, I didn’t know.
Although I could tell them about Keilani.
Jenks’ sister.
He hadn’t told me about her, but that hadn’t stopped me from finding out.
I should talk to the cops, tell them they needed to start looking for evidence to connect Keilani to Stefan.
It was time, though, to face the specters of my past and lay them all to rest.
I was just going for a few days, for now.
Eventually, I might have to go back for a trial.
I wondered what would happened if they found evidence against him back in Boston. They planned to try him for Marla’s murder and the assault on Seth.
Three years ago, nobody would say one word against the man. Now, I was flying back to speak with a cop about what Stefan had done to me.
And…I sighed and pulled my iPad out, opened the bookmarks to the website.
She had a pretty face. She was darker than Jenks and they had different last names, but you could see the similarities—in their eyes, the shape of their mouths. Her eyes were just as dark as his, not quite as intense. Her hair was black and razor straight, falling halfway down her back. Her smile managed to be both seductive and sweet, all at once.
The picture was one I’d found on her website.
She was the artist of the picture Jenks had shown me all those months ago.
The art was likely how Stefan had found her. Stefan had always had an eye for talent, and a love for seducing artists. Breaking them.
Her name had been Keilani and she’d disappeared a month before I escaped hell.
She’d met him sometime while he was still married to me. I was left to piece it all together on my own, but I could see how it all happened. She’d moved to Boston the year before I tried to divorce him, had a showing at a smaller gallery. He had bought a few of her pieces and still had them in his gallery—I had seen them when I did a search.
She might have been one of the women he taunted me with. She might have been one of the women I never knew about. She was most certainly one of the women he’d hurt, though.
One of the pictures of her I found online had her wearing a necklace of pink pearls. I’d been forced to wear such a necklace to a gallery showing. And I remembered seeing her. I only remembered her because I’d noticed how beautiful she was, and then I saw the hurt in her eyes, the misery, as she stared at my necklace, then looked at the man behind me.
A part of me had thought, You can have him.
I’d worn the necklace only the once, because when we got home, he ripped it off of me after he’d raped me, then he blamed me for being so careless with my lovely new gift.
My belly hurt just thinking of it.
I didn’t know what he’d done to her.
But I’d have to tell the police about the necklace.
If I ever saw Jenks again, I’d have to tell him as well.
That moment, though, seemed years away from here and now. In the dark, quiet airport where everybody seemed to exist in a fog. Including me.
My eyes felt gritty and tired but I couldn’t sleep. Not here. Not exposed. I’d come to grips with the fact that I would never be normal, never feel normal. I might get closer and maybe the dark didn’t bother me as much as it once did.
Maybe the day would come and I could face my ex-husband in court, watch as they handed down a sentence and I could know he would be locked away, never able to hurt me again. I could think of it, pray for it.
Maybe after that happened, I could stop being so afraid and I could look at him and tell him that he no longer had the power to hurt me.
But I could never let my guard down the way I might want.
Then again, I didn’t know if I really wanted to let my guard down. I’d tried.
I’d trusted somebody.
I’d had my heart ripped out. I still didn’t know why Jenks had ever approached me at all, what he’d wanted. Or why he’d just walked away from me.
It had been weeks and not a word.
The last time I’d tried to call him, I was told the number was disconnected.
It was as if he no longer even existed.
A weary sigh worked its way out of me. Instinctively, I reached for my bag and pulled out a sketchpad. It was a fresh one and I rooted around until I found a pencil. The lines of his face were familiar to me now, as familiar to me as my own. Even as familiar to me as the devil who’d haunted so many nightmares.
And just as real.
As his face came to life before me, I locked on that, focused on it. He was real.
He just didn’t want me.
Neely met me at the airport.
He stood there, solid and square, in a suit instead of a uniform and I looked at him, my eyes immediately finding him in the crush.
Neely had a wide, friendly face, the sort of face that made you want to trust him.
He had a partner and he’d told me all about Ginny Chadwick, but she wasn’t there with him.
It was just us, and I was glad.
His hands came up, caught mine. I squeezed and tried not to think about how the wind had ripped his voice away and the lightning had cast his face in stark relief that night so long ago.
Three years ago.
A lifetime ago.
Maybe even two lifetimes.
I was no longer the girl who had jumped at every sound and let men spy on her as she walked to the beach three times a week.
I don’t know who I am and I don’t know how long it will take to figure it out.
But I could let him squeeze my hand and when somebody bumped into me, I didn’t jump in fear.
I’m getting there. One day, I might even be whole.
“You look well,” Neely said, his voice soft and steady. He didn’t even sound surprised as he said it.
With a shrugged, I tugged my hands back and adjusted the strap of my bag. “Some days, I almost even feel well.”
“You’ll be okay, kid.” He looked as though he wanted to say more but, in the end, we just sought out the baggage claim and walked there in silence.
Outside, Boston gleamed beautiful and clear in the fall. There had been a time when I loved Boston in autumn. The crisp, cold air. Now, I was dispassionate and I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than to get on a plane and fly back home to warm beaches and soft sand and sunshine…and Jenks.
Damn him.
“…lunch?”
I looked over at Neely, distracted. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.”
“It’s okay. I was wondering if you’d like to get some lunch. Settle a bit before we have to get to work.”
Settle.
Eat.
No.
My bag came down the carousel and I caught it. Neely didn’t offer to help and I was glad. I needed to keep my hands
busy. Fiddling with the strap, I looked at the rest of the bags on the conveyor belt and then turned, cutting through the people before I stopped and looked back at Neely.
“I want to go there,” I said softly.
He didn’t pretend not to understand.
Three years had passed.
I didn’t know how this place had looked before, but I’d never forget how it looked on that night.
It was nothing like this.
Pretty homes.
Nothing like the elegant, graceful house where I had lived with Stefan, but pretty. The sort of place a young family would want to live. I saw a mom walking with her young son, an older couple walking hand in hand. It seemed an insult that he would bring me here, keep me here, in a place where happy people made homes.
But horror thrives everywhere. I’ve seen that firsthand.
Neely stopped in front of a house that had vacant windows, pulling the car to the curb and letting the engine idle. “He still owns the house. Had it rebuilt exactly the way it was before it was destroyed in the tornado.”
My breath started to come in erratic stops and starts. Fumbling with my seat belt, I finally managed to free it and climbed outside, my legs rubbery, yet stiff at the same time. I could hardly move. Could hardly breathe. The sunshine was warm on my skin, but I was cold to the bone.
“Rebuilt,” I said, my lips barely moving. “Exactly.”
I stared at it, searching for one of the windows that had let me see the lightning. Lightning that had lit my way to freedom. The storm had sent debris flying and it had busted open the door to the small room in the basement that had been my cell.
Was it still there?
I didn’t remember moving, but I must have because Neely’s hand caught my wrist and I looked down, dumbstruck at the sight of the rock in my hand.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice gentle. “I understand the desire, but don’t. You got out. That’s something that will eat at him for the rest of his life.”
“It shouldn’t be here,” I said, and I had to force each word out, as if dragging them out from the very depths of my broken soul.
“No. It shouldn’t.” His eyes were flat as he shifted his gaze past me to look at the house. “It should be torn down and the earth salted so nothing ever grows here, nothing ever thrives there. But it’s not up to us.”
Chapter Nineteen
I would have thought it wouldn’t be so hard to be there.
The monster from my nightmares was still in jail back in South Carolina.
The cops were staying in touch. His family had hired a lawyer, a top-notch one, and they’d pushed for him to be released on bail.
The judge hadn’t been impressed by the pedigree of a Boston blueblood. She’d stared at him over the rims of her glasses, smacked down all attempts to argue, and denied any requests for bail.
For now, Stefan was rotting behind bars.
I shouldn’t be terrified to be alone in Boston.
But many things shouldn’t be, yet are.
There I was, huddling in a hotel bed with my blankets drawn up high and my skin chilled, shaking. And I was back to sleeping with the lights on.
Not all of the lights, but one.
The one in the hotel bathroom, just enough shining in on me that I wasn’t in total darkness as I slept.
When the knock came, I almost went out of my skin.
I didn’t handle surprises well.
Peering through the judas hole, I caught my breath when I saw who it was.
Closing my eyes, I pressed my brow to the door and just stood there. Uncertain what to do, how to react, I just stood there. Waited. After a second, I opened my eyes to stare at him.
Jenks lifted a hand to the door.
“Open up,” he said quietly.
I didn’t say anything.
“I know you’re there, sugar.” Wide shoulders rose and fell. “I can feel you there, watching me. Let me in.”
Slowly, I reached up and freed the locks.
I opened it and then backed away as he came inside.
His hair had grown out a little and he looked as though he hadn’t had much more sleep than I. The hotel room shrank by half as his gaze raked over me.
I had absolutely no idea what to say to him. I had absolutely no idea why he was here.
But as his eyes lingered on my face, none of that really mattered. His gaze dropped to my mouth and heat, hunger rolled through me.
My skin burned and my heart pounded.
One thing I did know.
I still wanted, needed, craved him.
I reached for him and his arms closed around me. His mouth opened under mine and for once, something did make sense.
Shoving the jacket off his shoulders, I jerked at his shirt while he fought with the pajamas I’d pulled on hours ago. They had seemed simple and warm and comfortable but now they were itchy and confining and I wanted to be naked, pressed against that long, hard body.
Fabric caught, tore under his hands but I didn’t care.
All I cared about was getting his shirt off, then freeing him from his jeans and then I had him in my hands, but it wasn’t enough. I went to my knees, stared at him. My breath hitched as I remembered that sketch, the one I’d drawn months ago. Leaning in, I paused as his hands came up, cradling my head. I wanted to see this, see us, but I’d just have to imagine it. I could do that. Wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, I leaned in closer, licked the head of him, heard him groan.
A rush of warmth and heat gathered between my thighs.
I took him into my mouth and sucked him deep. He rocked against me and I moved on him faster and faster, wanting to feel him come in my mouth. His cock jerked, almost viciously, and then I was on my feet, in his arms.
“No. Like this,” he muttered against my neck as he urged me to the wall and caught me up, pressing between my thighs.
I looked, watching as he pressed against me. Swollen and hard, still wet from my mouth…wet from me now, too, as he rubbed the head back and forth against my folds. “Take me in, Shadow,” he whispered.
I arched my back, my breath catching as he slid in.
We both watched, our gazes locked on the slow, intimate possession, his cock sinking into me, my flesh wet and swollen, stretched tight around him. A whimper escaped me and he grunted out my name as he seated himself completely inside. “There…” he muttered. “Just there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed you.”
My gaze shot to his.
He looked right back, lifting his hand to my face. “I told you once…” he rasped. “This is where I want to be.”
And then he set about proving it, fucking me slow and steady, and even when I tried to urge him, he didn’t let me. It was a careful claiming and I had no doubt he was intent on making sure I knew one thing—he did want me.
The question was…
Why?
With him there, I was able to turn the light off.
Wrapped in his arms, I could feel myself sliding closer to sleep but I wasn’t so ready to give in yet.
Muscles limp, body sated, I forced my brain to stay awake.
He never had answered me. I understood more, now. But it was because I’d chased those answers.
Not because he’d given them to me.
It mattered, too. That he give them to me, that he trusted me enough. That he let me trust him.
“Why are you here?” I asked him softly.
He had one hand curved over my hip. His other arm was under my head. His mouth pressed to my shoulder. “I’m here for the same reason I’ve always been here,” he murmured. “I can’t stay away. Even when I know I should.” He pressed closer, his voice low and raw, a mutter against my skin, a song against my soul. “You’re in my blood, in my heart, in my soul, and I can’t cut you out.”
The words throbbed inside me, pulsed.
They meant something, more than just pretty words and I wanted to hold them tightly and cling to them, but I needed more, still. Closing my ha
nd around his, I squeezed my eyes shut and searched inside for the courage. “I…”
He rubbed his cheek against my shoulder, a silent encouragement for whatever I had to say.
Slowly, I sat up. I had to be away from him when I said this because if I wasn’t, it would make it too easy to just forget. To fall back against him and let him do…whatever. Be whatever. Forget the hurt of the past month, forget the confusion. Just exist.
I’d existed for a long while and it had led me to him. Was it really a bad thing?
My eyes flew open while the answer pulsed and beat inside me.
Yes.
I didn’t want to exist.
I wanted to live and I couldn’t do this with whatever shadow lay between us.
“I want to know about your sister.”
The change in him was instantaneous.
He pulled away and I felt chilled at the distance. Chilled at the loss of him.
Turning, I saw him staring at the wall, sitting on the far edge of the bed. His head bowed and those wide shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “We don’t need to talk about her, sugar.”
“Don’t we?”
In a violent surge of movement, he came up off the bed and started to pace. The hotel room had never seemed smaller, those long legs of his eating up the space with angry, quick strides. He came to the window and stopped there, staring out, uncaring of the fact that he stood there, naked and beautiful, all golden skin and muscles and power.
“What is there to talk about?” Jenks asked, his voice weary. “She’s gone. She disappeared just over three years ago.”
Three years ago. I shivered, thinking back to what had happened to me during that time period.
“She was last seen leaving a club in Boston. Reports are conflicted—some say she was with a short white guy, others say a tall black guy, others say she was alone. One thing everybody will agree to—she wasn’t seen with anybody that even resembles Stefan fucking Stockman.”
He stood there, relaxing against the window, and all that edgy, massive temper had disappeared, sucked inside him as if it had never existed. His voice was soft, almost lazy.
It was, I thought, completely terrifying.
Pieces of Me Page 18
