“You want me to take him, babe?” Reed stands up and opens his arms.
“Let Uncle Justin have a try.” I stand up, too, and Ivy passes Lucas to me.
“If he poops, it’s on you to change him,” Reed says.
I give him a skeptical look and settle Lucas into my arms. He looks at me and wrinkles up his face and lets out a loud scream.
“We’ll walk, big man,” I say in a soothing tone. “How about that? You want to walk?”
I didn’t just miss out on being Emily’s father when she was an infant. I also haven’t been around a whole lot to be a good uncle to my nieces and nephews. I was in St. Louis for college and law school when most of them were little.
“He’s colicky,” Ivy says with a sigh.
I walk Lucas over to Elle, and she gives me a wide smile.
“That baby looks good on you, Lockhart.”
Lucas cranks up the volume another notch, and I arch my brows at Elle.
“This kid is pissed,” I say, rocking him.
“I can hold him if you want,” she offers.
From her tone, I can tell she really wants to hold him. Her eyes light up when I pass the wailing baby to her.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she says softly. “I know, Lucas. It’s okay.”
I know what she meant about the baby looking good on me. Seeing her comfort my nephew makes me imagine what she’d look like holding our own baby one day. She looks radiant as she coos and makes faces in an effort to get a smile out of him.
Ivy and Reed are hanging off to the side, looking like they don’t know if they should take Lucas back or let us deal with him. Ivy looks like she’s about to come over when Noah approaches and asks her something.
Lucas’s cries turn off like a light switch being flipped. Instead, I hear Elle singing to him softly, her eyes on his.
I’ve never heard “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” sound like this. Her voice is incredible. I’m giving her the same awed look Lucas is as she hits every note.
When she’s done singing, she looks at me and grins, pleased she got him to stop crying.
“I must still have it,” she says.
It dawns on me then. “You haven’t sung at all since—”
Lucas starts fussing again, and she gives me a panicked look.
“Sing some more,” I say.
“Uh . . . I don’t know any other children’s songs. What should I sing?”
“Anything. AC/DC? 2 Live Crew? ‘Me So Horny’ has a nice tune to it.”
She rolls her eyes, a smile dancing on her lips, and starts singing one of her own songs. I recognize it from the radio, and it’s a trip to hear Elle singing it live to my nephew to soothe him.
The whole family gets quiet, everyone listening to Elle sing to Lucas. The kids clap every time she finishes a song, and within a few seconds of the last note, Lucas starts crying again.
So Elle sings and sings some more, rocking him in her arms as she does. It takes about half an hour for him to fall asleep, and then Reed carefully takes him, moving with the slow precision of someone trying to disarm a bomb without setting it off.
“That was . . . amazing, Elle,” I say as Reed takes Lucas into the house. “You have an incredible voice.”
“Thank you. I guess that’s the one thing that made it out of the attack unscathed.” She laughs nervously.
“Not the only thing.” I brush the hair back from her face and hold her gaze.
“I’ve been afraid to sing again,” she admits. “I wondered if it would feel different, and I didn’t want to try it and find out it did.”
“And?”
The corners of her lips turn up in a smile. “It felt good. It is different, because I’m different from before. The music I’m writing now has a lot more emotional range. I haven’t even thought about singing it, but . . . maybe I will.”
“If you do, I’d love to hear the songs.”
She takes a deep breath and reaches for me in a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her cheek to my chest.
“I wouldn’t sing them to anyone else before you.”
I kiss the top of her head, wondering if there’s a limit to how much it’s possible to love someone. Every time I think I couldn’t love Elle more than I already do, she finds her way a little deeper into my heart.
We’ve made a haven for ourselves here. Gary Beasley can’t get to her even if he tries because there are so many layers of security, and I think she’s finally realizing she’s safe.
I just hope she doesn’t decide Lovely is too small for a star to call home. If she wants to start singing and touring again, though, that’s what will happen. Reed gave voice to a fear I had in the back of my mind, and now it’s nagging me.
All I can do for now is be there for her. I want what’s best for her, even if she decides it’s not being here with me. It would hurt like hell, though.
Elle
ANDRE HAS HIS ARMS folded in front of him on the ride to Miss Dee Dee’s studio. We’re both sitting in the back seat of the SUV, and he’s been quiet the whole ride.
“Hey, guess what I heard?” I say lightly.
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got a girlfriend.” I turn to him. “Why didn’t you tell me? This is big, Andre.”
He scoffs and turns to face the window. “We’ve only been out a couple times.”
“Yeah, a couple times in the past week. You must really like her.”
He says nothing, but my excitement gets the best of me and I keep talking.
“I heard she’s really pretty and sweet and is taken with you.”
“Didn’t take you long to become a small-town gossip,” he says in a grouchy tone.
“Oh, stop that. You think no one’s going to notice that a muscled-up Samoan guy is dating a teller from a local bank?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I give him a playful shove. “Come on, Andre. All I get from Chloe are selfies of her on beaches and in front of pyramids with no wordage about what she’s up to. Just give me a little something. Her name’s Claire, right?”
“You probably know more about her than I do,” he says gruffly, then adds under his breath, “Busybody.”
I laugh at that. “You did not just call me a busybody! I’m about the unbusiest body there is, and you know it.”
He turns to face me. “Look, I like her. But I haven’t had a relationship in a really long time, and I don’t want to jinx it.”
His dark brown eyes are serious, and I just want to hug him. I’ve never seen him rattled like this.
“Okay, I’ll back off.” The driver parks, and we unfasten our seat belts. “But if you keep seeing her, I want to meet her.”
“Maybe.”
He gets out of the vehicle, and as soon as his door closes, I say, “Definitely.”
The driver meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles. When Andre opens my door, I give him a bright smile, using his arm for support as I slide out.
I’ve adjusted to the limp, but I have to be careful about getting my balance before I start walking. Andre scooped me up out of the street last week when we were downtown one day and I fell off a curb.
Miss Dee Dee is ambling up to the door of the depot, keys in hand. I’ve started meeting her here at 1:00 p.m. every day when she arrives. She does paperwork at her desk, and I dance.
I never have a plan; I just do whatever I feel like doing. Dancing just for the love of the movement and music is a luxury I’ve never had before. I don’t feel self-conscious in front of Miss Dee Dee, and she never offers feedback about my dancing.
She’ll get word from a local contractor next week that an anonymous benefactor paid for the replacement of the depot’s leaking roof. She may accuse me and try to refuse the gift in her crotchety way, but I’m planning to deny any involvement. She’s done more for me than I can put into words. Far more than the roof will cost.
I did something similar recently when I called a realtor in St.
Louis and asked her to help Merona find the home of her dreams for her family. The realtor will only tell her it’s an all-expenses paid gift from a grateful patient, which is true.
My favorite part about being stupid rich is getting to do things that no one ever knows I did. I see people struggling sometimes and give them an invisible hand up. My grandma told me when I was a little girl baking cookies with her in her tiny trailer home that blessings grow when shared. I’ve never forgotten it.
“I have to go to the bank,” Miss Dee Dee tells me as she unlocks the door. “You just do your thing, and I’ll be back soon.”
I don’t really want Andre watching me stumble around the floor randomly when he’s used to seeing me rock dance routines on stage, so I look up at him and say, “You can hang out here and enjoy the nice day if you feel like it.”
He nods and looks at Miss Dee Dee. “The door’s been locked since you left?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else have a key?”
She peers at him over the rim of her glasses. “Absolutely not.”
“Let me check the back door and windows real quick,” he says to me, walking around to the side of the depot.
When he returns and gives me the all clear, Miss Dee Dee leaves and I slip inside.
The depot’s wood floors are my favorite smell. I breathe in the earthy scent and sit down to change my shoes. I’m planning to do some ballet today, which means I’ll be sore tomorrow. But if I keep doing it, the soreness will get better.
I spent so many hours learning ballet as a girl. My mom told me it wasn’t just about the dancing itself, but about learning discipline, balance, and poise. I missed out on after-school playdates for lessons and never had many friends.
Stardom came at a price. Can I just turn my back on all that hard work and live a quiet life here in Lovely? I’ve been thinking about it lately. I love Justin, but I’m feeling a new surge of inspiration for music. I want to share songs about surviving with people who need them.
I turn on some classical music, though I don’t need it to practice. It’s just nice to feel the music, whether I’m dancing to it or not. I’ve almost finished with my warm-ups when I feel someone moving behind me.
A hand clamps over my mouth before I can scream. I recognize the dirty smell of Gary Beasley before I even see him.
He’s touching me.
He’s here.
I’m all alone.
Terror courses through me as he wraps his free arm around my waist.
“Miss me, Elle?”
I’m too frozen to even cry. The taste of blood in my mouth and the pain of my bones being broken come rushing back.
“I’m a dead man,” Gary says in my ear. “I’m not going to prison, so I’m gonna end up dead. And you’re coming with me.”
I swallow back the taste of vomit in my throat. This is terror. Knowing what he’s capable of—what it will feel like to be beaten by him—and being powerless to stop it.
A surge of anger burns in my chest. I’m not powerless. Maybe he’ll win, but I won’t go down without a fight. I haven’t come this far just to lie down and die.
I stomp on his foot and bite down on one of his fingers, flailing to free myself from his grip. He grunts and grabs my throat, my hands automatically flying up to claw at his hand.
He’s so much stronger than me. All I can do is squirm, stomp on his feet, and elbow him. If I keep him busy trying to restrain me, maybe I can buy enough time that Miss Dee Dee or Andre will come in.
His hand clamps over my mouth a second time, and I bite down again, harder this time. He grunts and pulls my hair, his voice ominous against my ear.
“I can make this fast or slow. It’s up to you.”
As soon as I fill my lungs with air, I scream with everything I’ve got and turn the ring on my finger, bringing my arm back so I can drive my fist into Gary’s stomach.
He howls and falls to his knees, clutching his gut. I turn and run for the door, but it bursts open before I get there and Andre runs inside.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” he roars.
Gary looks down at his hand, which has blood from his stomach wound on it.
“Been hiding in the crawl space for a week now,” he says with an evil grin.
Without another word, Andre levels his gun at Gary and fires it three times. Bullets hit him in the chest, head, and shoulder before he slumps to the ground.
I cry as Andre puts his arm around me.
“I should’ve been in here,” he says.
“No. I wanted to be alone.” I wipe away my tears with a shaking hand. “You were here when it counted.”
He takes my hand and looks at the ring Ivy gave me, arching his brows with approval.
“I’m proud of you, kid,” he says.
I sink against him, weak with relief. He calls the police, and I call Justin, who sounds panicked as he tells me he’s on his way.
Miss Dee Dee gets there before anyone. She leans on her cane as she closes the depot door behind her. As soon as she sees Gary’s body on the floor, she looks at me.
“Sorry about . . . the floor,” I sputter, crying again.
Without a word, she walks over and pulls me into her arms. Her powdery scent surrounds me, and I press my face to her gray shawl and cry some more.
“There now,” she says softly. “It’s all over, Elle.”
Justin arrives right after the police, his eyes wide as he looks me over from head to toe.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, still sobbing. “Ivy gave me this, and I stabbed him with it. And then Andre shot him.”
Emotion pools in Justin’s brown eyes as he takes me in his arms, holding me tight. “I’m so sorry, babe. I wish it could have been me instead of you.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re shaking.” He slides out of his black suit jacket and wraps it around me.
The police question me, and the coroner comes and covers Gary’s body with a white sheet. I sink against Justin, feeling drained.
“Can you take me home?” I ask. “I want to get away before the news hits and the photographers show up.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
He walks me toward the door, calling out to a detective over his shoulder, “Hey, Tim, if you need to talk to her anymore, you know where to find us.”
I’m shaken by the whole thing and by how differently it could have ended. Gary could have just shot me or stabbed me before I even knew he was there.
But mostly, I’m relieved. The nightmare is finally truly over.
Justin
IT’S HARD SEEING ELLE this way. She’s been quiet since we got back to the guesthouse, a haunted look in her eyes. I called Kyle to come over and take a look at her, and he drove right over.
We’re sitting on the couch, and Elle’s hand looks so small next to Kyle’s huge ones as he examines it. She used that hand to stab Beasley with the self-defense ring. I’m so damn proud of her for the courage she showed.
“How’d he get into the depot?” Kyle asks, shaking his head.
“He said he was hiding in the crawl space for a week,” Elle says numbly.
“Holy shit.” Kyle’s eyes are concerned as they meet mine. “Thank God your bodyguard heard you and ran in.”
“I hope he doesn’t get in trouble,” Elle says as she slides her free hand into mine.
“He won’t.” I squeeze her hand gently.
“Gary didn’t have any weapons, though. I guess Andre didn’t have to kill him. Not that I’m sorry about it or anything.”
“Andre’s gonna be fine, don’t worry.”
I plan to shake the guy’s hand for shooting Beasley. Hell, I may even hug him. I would’ve done the same thing without a second thought. If Beasley had gotten away with hurting Elle for a second time, I wouldn’t have handled it well.
“Everything looks good,” Kyle says to Elle. “Do you need something to help you sleep tonight?”
“I’ve got s
omething right here.” She leans against me.
Kyle gets up from the coffee table he was sitting on in front of the couch. “I can’t believe he was here in Lovely and no one saw him. He must’ve snuck in at night.”
“Bastard,” I mutter.
“The cops have been blasting his photo all over the internet and the news, though,” Kyle says. “I can’t believe no one saw him in the area.”
I shake my head. “Not since right before Elle got out of the hospital.”
She turns to face me, looking confused. “What do you mean?”
Shit. I should’ve told her before.
I blow out a breath. “Uh . . . well, the detective at the St. Louis PD told me right before we left the hospital that there had been reports of Beasley being in the area. I didn’t talk to him again after that, though.”
Her eyes widen as my words sink in. “Justin . . . you didn’t tell me. I didn’t know, this whole time. Almost a month.”
“I should’ve told you. You were just so fragile at the time, and I knew you were hiring lots of security, and I planned to stay close to you myself.”
“I was fragile at the time?” There’s an edge in her tone, and I sense we’re about to have our first fight. It’ll be one-sided, though, because I’m in the wrong.
“I should’ve told you,” I repeat. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”
She’s silent for a few seconds, and it feels like the gathering of dark clouds before a storm. Kyle silently lets himself out of the guesthouse. Elle gets up from the couch and walks for another few seconds before she finally speaks again.
“You’re damn right I was fragile,” she says angrily. “Who wouldn’t have been? I almost died that day, Justin.”
I nod, remembering all too well what her limp, bleeding body looked and felt like in my arms.
“And you,” she says, pointing at me, “had no right to keep that from me, Justin. It’s such a betrayal.”
Her voice wavers with emotion, and I search my mind for the words to make this right.
“You’re right.”
“And this—this is how I find out he’s in the area? When he tries to kill me again? Justin, if I had known—”
“You never would have come here,” I finish.
Hidden Depth (Lockhart Brothers Book 4) Page 14
