by Eden Summers
It’s my turn to grind my teeth and scowl. Fire ignites in my belly. Heat builds in my veins. The instinct to fight awakens in me after being dormant for so long, but I shut it down. I won’t let Luther back into my life. He changed me, making me lash out at the first sign of fear. But I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to be reminded of him every time I’m scared. Or angry. “I said, ‘no.’”
“Fine.” He turns and starts for the door. “Call them. Don’t call them. I don’t give a shit. But you’re going to get your ass back into the exercise room. I’ve decided you’re not finished for the day.”
7
Luca
I was surprised when she joined me in the exercise room. The continuous glare and tense muscles were predictable, though. I made her jog another two miles. Then demanded she sit her ass down on the sofa and continue our daily movie routine.
This time she didn’t sleep. She kept giving me the silent treatment, her glare cemented in place.
I let it fly because I appreciated seeing her committed to something for once, even if that commitment was her annoyance with me.
I even anticipated the animosity seeping into the following day, but she woke this morning without bitchiness. In fact, she’s acting as if nothing happened yesterday. She talked to me over breakfast, went for a run on the treadmill afterward, and has just joined me for a movie at our usual mid-afternoon screening time.
I know she’s faking the sudden recovery. Ignoring and bottling all the hurt. But even being able to pretend she’s not dying inside takes a level of strength beyond my comprehension. I bet she doesn’t realize how incredible she is. How fucking remarkable.
If only she’d finally break down and face her past—completely—then maybe she might start to recover instead of merely providing herself with distractions.
“What movie are we watching today?” she asks from the outstretched recliner.
“We could try the second half of the superhero movie you checked out on two days ago.”
I didn’t continue watching without her. I changed the channel as soon as she fell asleep. Not that the viewing is anything more than a lullaby. She usually passes out like clockwork within thirty minutes.
Those moments have been the highlight of my existence. Her content face. Her relaxed, slightly parted lips. Her beauty.
Fuck.
I need to get out of this house. Hit the shooting range. Spar the fuck out of a worthy opponent.
But I won’t leave her or bring anyone over here she’s not comfortable with. I’m stuck in this tempting isolation. My blue balls are the size of gorilla nuts.
I turn on the movie and lie across the sofa, my attention on her from the corner of my eye—the long, dark hair splayed across the recliner as she rests her head back.
I don’t focus on the screen as the actors do their thing, blowing up buildings and shooting up shit. I stare at her, fast becoming entranced by how fucking gorgeous she is as those lashes flutter closed.
It’s such a sinking feeling of helplessness, watching someone battle an invisible enemy. If she had a physical wound, I could tend to it. I’d make sure any injuries were stitched to perfection. I’d be meticulous in applying new dressings. And when the site healed, I’d make sure she used the very best scar-lightening creams on her delicate skin.
I’d do anything.
Everything.
But she’s not struggling with a physical injury. There are no men to hunt down or kill. Her fight is internal. Entirely out of reach.
All I can do is be patient. I’ve always been good at that.
Until now.
Until her.
The vibration of the cell in my back pocket breaks my trance.
I retrieve the device, the preview of a message from Sarah on the screen—Open your front door, I’ve just pulled…
Jesus. She’s here.
The bitch had been smart enough to keep her distance after I spoke to Torian. That gossip grapevine is effective in these parts. Too bad she didn’t have the smarts to stay away too.
I type back—Fuck off. Penny is asleep.
I don’t want her here. I’m done letting her report back to Decker. If he wants answers about his sister, he can ask during the daily phone calls I have to endure. I’m not opening the damn door. She can crawl back into the hole she came from.
Instead, I lower the sound on the television, then switch off the movie when my cell vibrates again—Turn on the news.
The hairs on my arms rise.
I change the channel, flicking to news station after news station, trying to find something to trigger familiarity, but there’s nothing. No reports of drama in the Greek islands or issues back home surrounding Torian’s questionable business dealings.
I’m clueless.
What am I searching for?—I send back.
Just open the goddamn door.
I push from the sofa, annoyed, tired, and so far over this shit with Sarah, Decker, and yes, Torian, that it takes a few seconds to recognize the woman’s face that flashes on the screen.
The heavy weight of dread takes over.
It’s one of Penny’s friends. One of the women I helped rescue from the same sex-slave hellhole in Greece. The words beneath her picture state—Up next: Missing woman dies by suicide.
Holy shit.
I stare. At the woman. At Penny peacefully sleeping. At the stillness surrounding me that will soon erupt into sorrow.
The cell vibrates again—Open the fucking door, Luca.
Fuck.
I stalk from the room, measuring my footfalls so I don’t wake the sleeping beauty, and reach the front of the house without taking a breath.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask as I pull the door wide.
Sarah stands there, her face somber. “I don’t know. All I got was a call from Torian telling me to get my ass over here to help control the situation.”
“I don’t need your help controlling anything.” I scrub a hand through my hair and try not to panic. “Why didn’t he call me?”
“I guess he wanted you to have backup.”
“What I need is information.”
She shrugs. “I don’t have a lot. Torian said Benji had been certain the woman was ready to return home. He’d prepped her the best he could. Made her realize talking about her time in Greece wasn’t an option. And set her up with a backstory. Then he dropped her off a few blocks from where her parents live.”
“Obviously, he fucked up somewhere,” I growl.
“You can’t know that. These women are unpredictable. How could they not be after that level of abuse?”
“Then he should’ve kept her long—”
“Luca?” Penny’s voice carries from the living room. “Where are you?”
Jesus fucking Christ. I just need a second. One crystal clear thought. One hint of a plan so I don’t make this harder for her.
“At the front of the house. I’ll be with you in a minute.” I pin Sarah with a scowl and begin closing the door. “I don’t need backup. Not from you.”
She steps forward, placing her foot at the threshold. “So how are you going to handle this?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Luca.” Her tone is derisive. Demeaning. “This won’t go down well. She’s going to lose it.”
“No shit.” But I’ve managed worse. A bullet to my head for starters. Not to mention the numerous times Penny has attempted to kill me. I talked her down from those ledges… well, I manhandled her from the cliff a time or two, but I still got the job done.
“So you can handle her tears? Her grief? Her heartbreak?” She raises her brows. “You can be a shoulder for her to cry on?”
“She doesn’t cry. Never has.”
“And you realize that’s unhealthy, right? She needs to let it out.”
Yeah, I realize. I realize too fucking much where Penny is concerned.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing tighter and tighter to stave off the b
uilding headache.
“Luca?” This time Penny’s call is frantic, the tone etched in fear. “Luca.”
My heart drops to my gut. “Fuck. I left the television on the news.”
“Goddamnit.” Sarah lunges forward, shoving past me to jog down the hall as I rush to close and lock the door behind her.
The television volume increases as I run after her.
“—Abigail Foster, a twenty-five-year-old who went missing four months ago,” the reporter informs the viewers, “miraculously returned to her family yesterday, only to take her life overnight.”
I reach the entry to the living room and get hit in the chest at the sight of Penny standing before the recliner, a hand clasped over her mouth as she shakes her head.
The television cuts to a middle-aged woman cradled by the side of a stricken man. “Our baby had only just come home to us,” the woman sobs. “Now she’s gone.” She buries her face in the man’s shoulder. “My baby is gone.”
The vision returns to the newsroom, the anchor’s emotionless face filling the screen. “Initial reports state Abigail Foster’s disappearance was due to a secret elopement. She only returned when the relationship dissolved.”
“No,” Penny seethes, no sorrow or tears in sight. “No.”
Sarah reaches for her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
My warrior pulls away, distancing herself from vulnerability. “What’s going on?” She turns to me, blinking rapidly as those pleading eyes beg for information. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry, shorty.” I start for her, wishing I had more than useless condolences. “I don’t know.”
“This isn’t happening.” There’s a wealth of conviction in her voice—so much pained adamance. “Abi wouldn’t kill herself.”
“I’m so fucking sorry.” I don’t know what else to say as I raise my hand to brush my fingers along her sweater-covered arm. “I wish there was something I could—”
“She didn’t kill herself.” She slaps my hand away. “She wouldn’t. I know her, Luca. There’s no way she’d take her own life.”
Denial is a bitch. I know from experience.
“What you all went through in Greece was traumatic,” Sarah murmurs. “It would affect each of you in different ways.”
“Can’t you hear me?” Penny snaps. “I know her. She would never do this.”
“Penny.” I reach for her again. “It’s—”
“No.” She shoves by me. “They’re wrong.”
The continued denial slices through me as she rushes for the hall, disappearing around the corner.
I should go after her. I should do something. But I’m still wading in indecision when her bedroom door slams moments later.
“That went well.” Sarah turns off the television, the thick silence closing in on me. “What are you going to do now?”
I know what I want to do. It’s the same damn thing I’ve itched to do since the moment we got here—to push her. To force her to face what’s going on. To shove her toward tears instead of isolation. She has to stop hiding and finally start grieving.
“For starters, I’m going to call Benji and find out what the fuck he was thinking returning that woman to her family when clearly she was unstable.”
“Don’t blame Benji. This isn’t his fault.”
“It isn’t?” I raise my brows. “You sure?”
She winces. “Luca, his job was to get them prepped for the questioning that would arise once they returned home. He only had to make sure they were aware of what would happen if they spilled any secrets.”
“Well, maybe he made them too aware. Maybe he scared the fuck out of her to the point where she couldn’t cope.”
“Luca.” My name is a warning. “You’re too invested in this. It’s just a job.”
Like hell it is. I’m so far down the emotionally invested path with Penny that there’s no going back.
“Thanks for your help, Sarah.” I start for the hall, my tone demanding she follow. “But I’ve got it from here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are. Get the fuck out.”
“No, I’m staying until I know Penny is okay. Unless you plan on physically removing me, you need to get used to having me here.”
I swing around, glaring.
I’d have no problem heaving her over my shoulder and dumping her on my front lawn. In fact, I’d appreciate the inevitable cat fight, my climbing blood pressure demanding an outlet. It’s her rare expression of panicked concern that makes me pause.
She’s worried. Not just for Decker’s sake.
Fuck her and her perfectly managed manipulation. Even though I’m well aware she’s potentially playing me, I’m struggling to turn away someone who cares for Penny. My battling warrior needs all the support she can get.
Even from a crazy-ass bitch like Sarah.
She holds my gaze, not moving, not backing down.
“At least make yourself useful and start the coffee machine.” I continue to glare as I retrieve the cell from my pocket and walk onto the deck to call my brother.
My pulse pounds through my skull with every ring. Once. Twice. When the line connects I grind my teeth, waiting for the muttered greeting from the only member of my family I have left.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demand. “I’m here watching the news and wondering why the hell you didn’t call?”
“Excuse me for having my fucking hands full. You’ve got no idea what it’s like with these women.”
“So it’s true? The news reports have it right?” My nostrils flare as I strangle the deck railing with my free hand. “After days dealing with you, she finally returned home to kill herself?”
“How the hell would I know? I dropped her off and hightailed it out of there. I don’t know what happened after that.”
“How was she when you dumped her?”
“I didn’t dump her. She was fine.” Frustration tightens his tone. “She was hopeful. Maybe even fucking excited. The other women thought the same, too. Then this happened.”
“This can’t be completely left field. You had to have a clue.”
“Don’t judge me,” he snaps. “She was fine. She was happy. She didn’t dance a goddamn jig into the dining room every morning, but she was ready to go home. Don’t blame me for what happened. This isn’t my fault.”
It never is.
“You should’ve called me before you took her back. You should’ve paid closer attention.”
“Fuck you. I did the best I could. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You’ve got—”
A burst of muted noise from inside steals my attention. A smothered thud. I swing around to the house, finding Sarah rushing for the hall.
“I’ve gotta go.” I speak over Benji, then disconnect the call and run inside, sliding into the hall as Sarah grabs for the handle of Penny’s door. “Stop.”
She stiffens, glancing over her shoulder to meet my gaze while crashing and banging thunders from inside the bedroom. “Let me go to her.”
“No. Back off. Or go home.”
“Listen to me.” She speaks in a rush. “I have experience with this. I can empathize with her loss.” She raises her hands in surrender. “Storming in there, flying by the seat of your pants, will only cause more damage.”
Christ.
I don’t know how to help. All I have is instinct and that adamant, demanding pulse is telling me to get my ass in there.
“Luca?” she begs. “Do you really want to risk hurting her more than she already is?”
I clench my fists. “You don’t know that I will.”
“You’re a raging bull—face stark, hands clenched, shoulders stiff. You’re going to scare her.”
Fuck. I try to calm myself, attempting to relax my muscles and breathe deeper.
It’s pointless.
I’m mindless over Penny. Mindlessly failing.
Another scream carries from inside the room, a heavy thud fo
llowing.
“All I’m asking for is ten minutes.” Sarah twists the door handle. “I can deal with this.”
Maybe she can. Maybe it would’ve been better for her to manage the recovery from the very first day we returned from Greece. Maybe all I’ve done is fuck Penny’s life even more.
But I can’t bring myself to give Sarah permission to take over. All I can do is turn on my heels and stride back where I came from, my pride and a truckload of hostility clogging my fucking throat.
8
Penny
I throw the bedside lamp across the room, the shade fracturing on impact, the base smashing before it falls to the carpet in fragments.
Abi’s gone.
Dead.
It’s all my fault.
I left her with a stranger.
I gave up when I should’ve been protecting her, and now her death doesn’t even make sense. She didn’t kill herself. She wouldn’t.
If the news report featured Lilly maybe I could digest the information. Lil was always the weakest. The one unwilling to fight.
But not Abigail. She had fire in her soul. Determination in her belly. She wouldn’t take her life when she’d just returned to her family.
I refuse to believe the lies, my pulse ramping higher the more my mind conjures memories of her parents on the television. Their tears. Their anguish.
I grab the bedside clock and haul it across the room, the weight thunking into the plaster to leave a dent.
The past returns to haunt me. Images of Abi pummel my mind. I can still feel her. Can still smell the sweet vanilla of her shampoo.
I yank out the top drawer of the nightstand and throw that, too, this time releasing a war cry as the projectile leaves my fingers.
The outside mania quietens the voices within. It soothes the rage. Momentarily.
I scream as I throw another drawer. And another.
“Penny?” The door opens, making me pause as Sarah cautiously glances inside. “Can I come in?”
“No,” I pant, my chest heaving.
She ignores me, walking forward, her steps cautious as she closes the door behind her.
“Get out.” I grab the last drawer in the nightstand and heft it at the wall, the hard thwack no longer bringing relief.
