Hush (Black Lotus #3)

by E. K. Blair

  Looking up at him holding his rod, I tease, “You need me to help you?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “I came from the streets, Declan. Baiting a hook is nothing,” I tell him with a smirk and then cast my line into the water.

  “So, I take it you’ve fished before.”

  I watch him cast his line out and respond, “No, not really. Only once with my dad. He would hold the rod for me, and when we would get a bite, he’d let me reel it in. What about you?”

  “All the time. When I was living here, I’d take my boat out during my down time, which wasn’t often, but I’d get away when I could and toss out a line or two.”

  “I got something!” I practically squeal when something tugs on my line. I laugh with childish excitement, and then a little fish surfaces.

  “It’s a perch.” He takes the small fish and pulls the hook out, all the while smiling at me.

  “I’m winning,” I brag, and when he tosses the fish back into the water, he says, “I wasn’t aware this was a competition.”

  “Well, now you are. And you’re losing.”

  I grab another shiner from the bucket and cast my line.

  “Tell me a story,” I request. “Something good.”

  “My darling wants a story,” he says to himself and then takes a moment, squinting against the sunlight reflecting off the water. “I did my undergrad at the University of Edinburgh and was living at my fraternity house. We used to throw a lot of parties. I was never much of a drinker, but it was the end of exam week, and I’d been under a lot of stress. The girl I was seeing at the time was at the party that night, and I had gotten piss drunk. She told me she was going to call it a night and crash in my room since she had been drinking too. She was nowhere near as drunk as I was, but still drunk enough that she knew better than to drive.”

  He pauses when his rod dips. Another small perch.

  “One to one. It’s a tie,” he says with a grin, and then continues when he grabs another shiner. “Anyway, I stayed up for a few more hours before stumbling upstairs to my room. I was so wasted, and all I can remember is stripping off my clothes while everything around me was spinning. I pulled the sheets back and slipped in behind what I assumed was my girlfriend.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “Each room housed three guys.”

  I start laughing and it isn’t long before he joins me.

  “I spent the whole night in my underpants snuggling with my roommate . . . Bean.”

  “Bean?”

  “Uh, yeah, he had a bit of a flatulence issue.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “Once I realized I wasn’t cuddling my girlfriend, it was too late. A few of my frat brothers were standing in the doorway, snapping photos of the supposed indiscretion.”

  “What did your girlfriend say?”

  “Ah, well, she was upset I got drunk and ignored her all night, and that was the end of her.”

  “You’re an ass,” I snicker, to which he replies, “So I’ve been told.”

  I startle and clutch my fishing rod when it’s nearly yanked out of my hands. Grabbing ahold of the reel, I struggle to crank it.

  “I need help,” I call, and Declan sets his rod down, moves behind me, and grips the rod.

  “You’ve got something big,” he says when he puts his hand over mine and helps me reel in the line just like my dad used to.

  I let him take control and move my hand with his. The fish fights us for a bit, and when it approaches the water’s surface, I see how substantial it is.

  “What is that?” I ask excitedly.

  He pulls it up, announcing, “It’s a big fucking bass.” He kneels, pinning the fish down with his foot, and removes the hook. “You want to keep it? We could have the chef in the kitchen prepare it for dinner tonight.”

  Looking at the fish flopping around, I tell him, “No. Let him live.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Declan drops the bass into the water, looks over the pier’s edge, and watches him as he swims down, disappearing into the lake.

  I bait my hook and return to our conversation, saying, “A part of me always wanted to do the whole college thing.”

  “You still could.”

  With shame, I confess to him, “I never even graduated high school, Declan.”

  He looks at me and there’s a hint of surprise in his eyes. “How far did you get?”

  “I never finished the ninth grade. When Pike turned eighteen, I ran away with him, so school was out of the question because I’d get busted by the state. I was always a good student though, made excellent grades. I loved reading and learning, so I had Pike buy me all the materials to get my GED even though it would never be official. Since I was still underage and in the system, I couldn’t use my real name for anything.”

  “And when you were of age?”

  “By then, it didn’t matter. I knew we’d never have the means for me to ever go to college, so what was the point of going back to get my GED?” I say. “I did what I could though. I’d pick classes that interested me out of the local college class catalog and Pike would buy me the textbooks from a used bookstore. I’d read them, and in a pathetic way, it made me feel like I was making something of myself.”

  “You were.”

  “All I did was make a mess of myself.”

  “That too,” he responds in light jest. “But you’re bright and well-spoken. No one would ever suspect you only made it to the ninth grade. You’re an incredible woman who’s fighting hard to make things right.”

  “Things will never be right.”

  “Maybe the past won’t, but right here, in this moment, this is where it all changes,” he says. “You can do anything you want to do.”

  His confidence in me is powerful, making me feel like there’s a future to look forward to. That the choices I make won’t be for naught. And maybe he’s right—maybe it’s the here and now that I need to focus on to move forward. I’ve always been running, and now, for the first time, I no longer have to. I can stand here, in one place, and know that with Declan by my side, I’ll be okay.

  So with a little bit of optimism, I tell him, “I want to finish high school.”

  He smiles, pride in his eyes, and says, “We can get all the details on what needs to be done tomorrow. But tonight, I’m taking you out.”

  “A date?”

  “It’ll be a first for us.”

  After catching too many perch to count, we decide I win based on the bass alone. Being able to be out with Declan, free from lies and games in this city where we used to hide, feels great. This is where we fell in love, but that life was always tainted, and now . . . now we can create something new.

  With the goofy shirt Declan bought me crumpled on the bathroom floor, I finish the last of my makeup after a long shower. Walking into the bedroom, I can see Declan out in the living room sipping Scotch. He looks good as he waits on me, dressed in his usual look—a sleek designer suit, tailored to perfection.

  I pick out a flattering navy shift dress that I purchased on my shopping trip with Davina. After I slip it on, I step into a pair of nude heels and join Declan. We then make our way down to the lobby where his roadster is waiting out front.

  We drive through the night to Cité, an upscale restaurant that’s perched atop Lake Point Tower. We’re seated next to the windows, which provide stunning views of the lake and city, and Declan takes the chair right next to me instead of across the table.

  He was right—this is a first for us. We’ve never been on a date, and then it hits me that I’ve never been on a date. Not a real one, not with a man I love. The thought causes me to smile and Declan takes notice.

  “What’s that grin all about?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him, feeling a bit juvenile.

  “That’s not nothing behind those blue eyes of yours. Spill it.”

  “You’re pushy, you know that?”

  “I’m aware. And
I’m waiting.”

  “Fine,” I exhaust. “I was just sitting here, thinking . . . It’s really silly.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Aside from fallacies . . . this is my first date.”

  “Ever?” he says in curiosity.

  “Ever.”

  He slips his hand under the table and places it on my thigh, giving me a gentle squeeze. We order wine and he insists on the Siberian caviar service, promising I’ll love it—and I do.

  “You’re quite divergent, you know that?” I say, setting my wine glass down.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I remember you taking me to breakfast at that diner when I first met you. Stale coffee and pancakes.”

  “The Over Easy Café does not have stale coffee,” he immediately defends, and I laugh, bantering, “Whatever you say. But, now, you have me here, drinking a bottle of wine that’s so expensive, it’s obscene.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I never said that; it’s just a contrast from the ‘not stale’ coffee and the hot dog you ate from the street vendor today.”

  “So what would you prefer?” He leans closer to me and slips his hand back on my thigh.

  “I like your contradictions,” I admit as he runs his hand under the hem of my dress. My body tenses and I shift my eyes around the room, wondering if anyone knows what’s happening under the table linens.

  “You nervous?”

  Giving him my attention, I ask, “You like making me nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” My voice trembles when his fingers hit the lace of my panties and then he nudges against my thigh for me to uncross my legs—and I do.

  “Because I like testing you,” he confesses, shifting my panties over. “To see how far you’ll let me push you.”

  “When have I ever stopped you?”

  “Never,” he whispers on a husky voice at the same time he shoves one of his fingers inside my pussy.

  I gasp.

  He smiles.

  Pride and domination color his eyes in heated black.

  “You want me to stop?”

  “No,” I breathe, and he drags his finger out of me and rolls my clit in slow circles.

  “Tell me why you yield like this to me.”

  “Because I love you.”

  He thrusts his finger back inside of me. “Say it again.”

  My breath catches, stammering unevenly as I resist the urge to grind down on his hand, nearly whimpering the words, “I love you.”

  He abruptly pulls out of me, leaving me yearning, and shifts my panties back over to cover me. My chest rises and falls noticeably as I watch him bring his hand up to his mouth and suck my arousal off his finger.

  Unsatisfied and aching, I make it through dinner, and when the bill is paid, I’m quick to leave. Declan’s cocky smirk should irritate me, but it only makes me want to fuck him more. He takes my hand, and once we’re on the elevator, he further tests me by refusing to touch me. My body is on high-alert, sensitive to every element, begging to be touched—but he doesn’t engage me.

  “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, and he smiles.

  The elevator doors open and as soon as we exit the building, my steps halt the moment I see her.

  She stops in her steps as soon as she sees me, her eyes narrowing into daggers. It’s a look I’ve never seen her wear, but it’s wasted on me.

  “You’re back,” she states.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Jacqueline,” I condescend.

  “Jacqueline?” Declan questions to himself, but we all hear.

  “You,” she accuses, looking at Declan. “You son of a bitch!”

  “You’re sorely mistaken,” I butt in. “Your husband—”

  “Is dead! Because of you two,” she accuses. Her loud voice grabs the attention of a couple passersby, but they keep moving. She then looks down at my hand linked with Declan’s. “And how fast you move on, Nina.”

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve. This coming from the woman who not only fucked my husband but was stupid enough to get pregnant. So, don’t you dare stand there like you’re a goddamn ice princess,” I lash out while Declan allows me to handle her on my own.

  Tears rise and then fall down her cheeks when she explodes, “You killed my husband! I have nothing because you took it away from me!”

  “I didn’t take shit from you. I freed you from that asshole. He fucking raped me and tortured me! And look at you,” I belittle. “Standing there like you’re the victim when you should be thanking me for ridding the world of that piece of shit.”

  Beyond what he did to me, my blood boils when I think of what Richard did to Declan’s mother and the part he played in my father’s life.

  “How dare you tarnish his name with your lies. He’d never—”

  “You can’t be that ignorant. Surely you know by now the man he was, yet you’re so weak that you’re still defending him.”

  “What am I supposed to do? My life is over! My name doesn’t mean anything anymore. And because of you, I’m left with nothing. Everything I ever had has been seized. I’ve been ostracized by everyone and I’m buried in debt.”

  “And yet you blame me,” I say. “I guess you got what you deserved for marrying that asshole and screwing around with a married man. It seems all you have is the hope that your bastard son doesn’t grow up to hate you, since he now carries all the wealth.” My smile grows. “Must suck to know all that money is within reach, and yet Bennett forbade you from touching it because he hated you.”

  “You bitch!”

  “You’re done here,” Declan barks, stepping between us. “That man you married was a cold-blooded killer. Accept it or not, I don’t really give a fuck, but don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong.”

  Not allowing another second to pass, he leads me to his car, leaving her crying, alone, on the sidewalk. Declan closes my door, and I look at her through the window, hating her for the mere fact that she loved and supported such an evil man. A man who left me stripped naked for days while he degraded and humiliated me, beat me, and sodomized me. A man who took so much from both my life and Declan’s.

  Declan speeds off, and I refuse to let the memories of what Richard did to me come to life.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap.

  I can’t talk because all I can do right now is focus on forcing those memories back into the deep cave of my soul. Pinching my eyes closed, battling against myself, I hear the ringing in my head, and it feels like an axe to my skull.

  I clamp my hands over my ears, and I don’t even notice Declan pulling the car over. He reaches out to me and touches my arm, and when I open my eyes, I see Richard’s smug face instead of Declan’s. My body coils back, lurching away from him, and I scream, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

  “Elizabeth, it’s okay,” he insists, unbuckling my seatbelt and banding his arms around me as I fight against the high-pitched ringing in my head.

  I release a wretched scream, my voice bleeding, “Make it stop!”

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” he demands on a hardened voice. He grabs hold of my head and forces me to focus on him. “Breathe. I need you to breathe with me.”

  Everything around me and within me is a demented chaos of sounds, voices, visions. A hurricane spinning with inconceivable force, but his eyes remain still and steady. He’s the one unwavering element in this maelstrom, and it takes all the effort in me to focus on him—on his words.

  “That’s it, darling. Just breathe,” he encourages when I feel my lungs inflate.

  My eyes never waver, and soon everything dulls into a low hum that I’m eventually able to silence. He’s managed to chase away the demons I couldn’t fight off on my own.

  And it’s here, in the ink of night, on a deserted side street, that I must face the fact that I undoubtedly need Declan.

  AFTER MY RUN-IN with Jacqueline, all I want to do is sleep. The st
ress of my panic attack should’ve knocked me out, but I’ve been tossing and turning ever since my head hit the pillow.

  When my cell phone lights up, I grab it from the nightstand. The screen reads: UNKNOWN, and I know it’s Matt calling. I decline the call and turn the phone off. My mind races in a million different directions, stirring up even more memories. Unwilling to lie here in bed any longer, I grab the manifest and my notepad and go to the office to direct all my attention to this list.

  I’ve made it halfway through the names, scrambling the letters around and around and around, not knowing what I’m looking for, but hoping I find something. I get through three more names.

  Parker Moore

  Dorrance Riley

  Quentin Malles

  All are dead ends, and before the sun starts to rise, I sneak back into bed without Declan noticing.

  I manage to get a couple hours of sleep, and when I wake, Declan has already had breakfast delivered. The smell of his coffee and fresh baked croissants fill the air, and before I’m fully awake, he pours me a cup of steaming water and hands me a tea bag.

  “Thanks.”

  While we sit in bed, Declan reads the newspaper and I watch as bister ribbons through the translucent water in my tea cup. Sleep still fogs my head as I continue to dunk the tea bag up and down until the water turns to a delicate amber, infused with aromatic herbs that help wake me up.

  “He’s in the paper,” Declan murmurs.

  “Who?”

  He hands the Chicago Tribune to me, and there he is—Callum. He stands in his prison-issued orange jumpsuit with the headline “Player in Gun Trafficking Ring Indicted.”

  I look to Declan as he takes a sip of his coffee, and he says, “You know it’s only a matter of time until we’re getting wrapped up in this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our involvement. You were married to Bennett, ran in the same circle as Richard, and spent time with my father. That, along with the kidnapping and murder, we’ll both be forced to testify,” he tells me before tossing the sheets off him and getting out of bed in haste. “This is the last thing I need, that man tarnishing my name,” he bites.

  He’s pissed about the attention this will draw to him and his company.