All Cried Out (All Falls Down Book 2)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "Get those fucking things off the wall," Lewis snaps at one of Canton's men, his eyes still on me like he gets it. And maybe he does. Maybe he's seen enough shit to understand exactly how I feel right now.

  "At least we know where he's been hiding," he says quietly. "That's more than we had two hours ago."

  "Yeah, I know." And I do, but fuck if that helps erase the sense of terror clawing at my insides ever since seeing his message to Savannah painted across our walls. I can't do this anymore. I just… can't. "I gotta get out of here," I mutter and spin on my heel. I don't stop until I'm outside, inhaling fresh air in large gulps.

  "You good?" Lewis asks quietly.

  I turn to find him behind me, arms crossed over his chest, his expression blank, stoic. He wears it like a mask.

  "No," I mutter. I'm so fucking far from okay, it's not even funny.

  "I met my wife when someone pretended to be her and lured a college kid into an online relationship," he says, still wearing that blank expression like a mask. A muscle in his jaw ticks though, giving away the fact that he's not nearly as calm as he appears. "I caught the case when the kid killed himself. Ivy didn't have a clue what was happening. She'd never even heard of the kid, couldn't understand why anyone would use her name like that. Turns out it was someone close to her." Lewis pauses a moment, meeting my gaze. Rage burns in his gray eyes. "When Ivy found out the truth, it absolutely destroyed her and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop it. I wanted to kill the bastard responsible."

  I watch him for a moment, see the truth reflected in his eyes. He gets it. Perhaps better than anyone, he gets it. That doesn't loosen the knot of dread in my stomach. Nor does it calm me any.

  "She's my life," I murmur, scrubbing a hand down my face. "I can't do this shit without her."

  Lewis gives me a chin-lift. "I don't know your girl," he says, "but I know how it feels to watch this shit unfold and feel fucking helpless. When it was Ivy, I would have done just about anything to protect her. If I have anything to say about it, this son of a bitch will get his, Corbit. I promise you that."

  "I hope so," I mutter, sending up another prayer. "I really fucking hope so."

  "We need to talk," I tell Melinda as soon as she pulls open her motel room door four hours later. Lewis and I have been back in San Francisco for all of forty-five minutes, having stayed in San Rafael until we were absolutely certain he wasn't hiding in some nook or cranny on his late grandmother's estate. We combed through every inch of the place. He wasn't there.

  Canton will have someone keeping an eye on the property in case he comes back, but there's nothing else to do for the moment. The fucked up collage of newspaper articles about Savannah has been bagged and tagged, carried off to the property room to be held as evidence. We're done for the day. And we're no closer to finding the bastard than we were this morning.

  The sick sense of dread I feel hasn't abated. If anything, the longer the day wears on, the worse it becomes. I don't know if it's instinct screaming at me, or just terror for Savannah, but I feel off, like a clock counts down in the background. If it gets to zero… shit, I don't want to consider the ramifications of that, but I think Lewis feels it, too. He dropped me at my car before hurrying off to speak with the McKee family's neighbors.

  Melinda's eyes widen when she catches sight of my hand, but she steps aside, allowing me into the room. "Is Savannah okay, Jared?" she asks, closing the door behind me. "I saw the news about the break-in… I've been so worried."

  "Bullshit."

  She blinks at my harsh tone, her mouth gaping open. "W-what?"

  "Bull. Shit," I enunciate carefully.

  Melinda just stares at me, opening and closing her mouth though nothing comes out. And that's just fine with me, because I've had a hell of a day and the last thing I want to do is deal with more lies from this woman.

  "We found your fingerprints on Savannah's car," I tell her.

  Her face pales, color draining before my eyes.

  "What do you really want from my fiancée?" I demand, my arms crossed over my chest. "No more bullshit, Melinda. I've been all over two counties today, trying to catch McKee. I'm not in the mood for more lies. I'm done with half-truths and evasions."

  Her voice shakes when she speaks. "I just want to see my daughter, Jared."

  "Oh?" I ask, cocking my head to the side, frustrated that I can't get a read on this woman. Maybe she really is who she says she is: a mother trying to reconnect with the daughter she left behind. But I'm not willing to bet Savannah's safety on that. I can't afford to be wrong. "It's interesting that you and McKee reappeared in her life at the same time. Are you working with him?"

  "What?" Melinda gasps. "I would never hurt my daughter."

  "Stop calling her that!" I roar, enraged. "You don't get to call her that. You haven't been her mother since you abandoned her eight years ago!"

  Melinda flinches, edging away from me as if she's not quite sure what I'm going to do. And that pisses me off, too. I may not trust her, but I won't put my hands on her. I'm not McKee. I'm not my father. I don't hurt women. Pacing away from her, I tug on my hair. Trying to calm myself with the familiar motion is fruitless though. I'm too on edge.

  "Do you have any idea what that son of a bitch is doing to her?" I ask, dropping my hands. "Because of him, she's locked up on the Talbot property, a prisoner all over again. He's tormenting her, destroying everything she's fought so hard for since she walked away from him. She's not even in Italy, and he's running her life, dictating what she can and can't do. Do you know how hard it is to watch her struggle and know there's nothing I can do to help her?"

  Melinda shakes her head, but doesn't say anything.

  "I'm doing everything I can to stop him, and I don't know if it's going to be enough. If I lose her…." I take a deep breath, choking on the thought. I'm scared, so fucking scared I'm going to lose her. It's tearing me up, shredding me from the inside out. "I can't lose her," I whisper, not sure if I'm talking to Melinda or if I'm talking to God. "I need her to be safe, and it's killing me that she isn't."

  I sink down onto the edge of Melinda's bed, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. I feel like I'm losing it. My throat is tight, and breath refuses to come. Sweat breaks out, beading on my forehead. I take a gasping breath and then another, jerking at the collar of my shirt. It's too tight, strangling me.

  Melinda watches me silently for a long moment before crossing the room. She steps into the bathroom and then the faucet turns on. Within seconds she's back, a wet cloth in her hands.

  "Here," she says, placing it on the back of my neck before easing down beside me on the bed.

  We sit side by side in silence while I try to regain control and quash the anxiety churning through me. I feel like I'm going to pass out, but eventually, the sick feeling subsides. I breathe deeply, inhaling the stale scent of cigarette and pot smoke, grateful when my hammering heart slows to a more normal rate.

  "You have no reason to trust me," Melinda says then, staring down at her hands. They're rough and callused, testament to the hard life she's lived. "But I swear to you, I would never hurt Savannah. I went to campus to see her the day after I got to town. She wasn't hard to find, not with her life playing out in the papers. I even left a note on her car, but you're right. I haven't been a mother to her. What could I possibly say to make up for what I did?" She shakes her head, a sad frown twisting her lips. "As soon as I put the note under her wiper, I knew she deserved more than that. So I grabbed it and I left. I decided to come to you instead. I thought… I thought maybe you could convince her to see me." She pauses. "But you still haven't even told her I'm here, have you?"

  There is no accusation in her tone, but guilt assails me anyway.

  "I get it," she continues before I can say anything. "I really do. If I were in your shoes, I'm not sure if I'd have told her either. With everything going on, the last thing she needs is to hear that I'm back. So maybe…." She stops and takes a deep breath. "I don't know how t
o convince you that I don't mean her any harm. I don't think, given the circumstances, that I can convince you. And I really do understand, Jared. I'm too little, too late, and this isn't the right time. So I'm going back to Arizona tonight." Tears drip off of her chin, landing in splatters on her clasped hands. "And maybe, when this is all over and she's safe again, maybe she'll be in a place where hearing from me won't overwhelm her. When that day comes, whether it's a month from now or a year or five years, I'll be there, waiting. And if I never hear from her, if she wants nothing to do with me, then at least I'll know that she has someone who loves her as completely as she deserves."

  "I-"

  "You don't have to say anything," she interrupts. "You don't owe me an explanation or an excuse. I don't blame you for not telling her that I'm here. You love my daughter; that's all I can ask for." She stares at me for a moment, her expression hardening. "But you keep her safe from that bastard, you understand me? Don't let him victimize her again."

  "I won't," I whisper. My throat is raw, but the words are firm, full of promise.

  Melinda rises from the bed and crosses quickly to the table. She reaches into her purse, shuffles around, and then pulls out an envelope. She eyes it for a moment before turning back to me and holding it out. "This is the note I intended to leave on her car that day. When she's ready… will you give it to her for me?"

  I stare at the envelope for a moment before reaching out for it.

  "I understand why you don't trust me," she says, wiping tears from her face. "And I'm sorry if I've made any of this more difficult for you. That was never my intention when I came to you, and it wasn't fair of me to put you in the middle. Take care of my daughter, Jared. She deserves nothing less."

  I don't know what to say to this woman, but I feel little pricks in my chest, and I think I actually feel sorry for her. I think, for once, I actually believe her wholeheartedly and trust her motives. Sliding the envelope into my pocket, I rise from the bed. "I'll tell her," I promise.

  Melinda smiles at me, more tears falling down her face. "Thank you for loving my daughter."

  "It's easy to do," I whisper and let myself out, no longer sure I've made the right decision keeping her from Savannah. No longer sure I've made any of the right decisions lately.

  What am I supposed to do? I ask myself, but no answer comes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Love Me Harder

  It's nearing midnight by the time I finally make it back to the Talbot Estate, Melinda's note heavy in my pocket. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it. I'm not sure what the right thing to do is in this situation. Do I give it to Savannah now? Do I wait? When I make my way inside the mansion, I'm no closer to an answer than I was when I walked out of Melinda's motel room.

  Savannah's waiting for me in the living room of the mansion with Katrina, Lexi and Evans, curled up on the couch with an afghan over her lap. She sits up when she sees me, frowning. "You look so tired."

  I stop in front of her, holding out a hand to her. She grasps my fingers, the pad of her thumb brushing gently across my bruised knuckles.

  "What happened?" she asks. She looks so beautiful. Her dark hair is twisted into a knot on top of her head. Her face is clean of make-up, her eyes wide and haunted. She's pale, fragile, but so goddamn perfect.

  I have to swallow past the lump in my throat before I can say anything. "I love you," I murmur, my voice faint. That's the only thing I'm certain of in this moment: I love her. Everything else is a massive unknown, a question mark hovering over my head. Had I done things differently, would we be here now? Would McKee be after her? Would her mother be on her way back to Arizona, my girl clueless she was even here? Doubt plagues me.

  Savannah's frown deepens.

  "You deserve so much better than me," I say before she can ask the questions I see in her eyes. The ones I can't answer. The ones that are going to hurt her even more than she's already been hurt. My girl has been through so much, she's fought and been strong for so long. She deserves more than someone like me, someone who tells her half-truths and can't even offer her the assurance that she's safe. "I'll never be good enough for you, beautiful girl. But I'm too selfish to let you go."

  "Jared, you're scaring me," she whispers.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head, trying to clear it. When I open them again, she's staring at me, concern and fear clouding those lovely doe-eyes of hers as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. I force a smile, pulling her up from the couch.

  "Let's go home, baby."

  The afghan slides from her lap, pooling half on the sofa and half in the floor. I tuck her close to my side, turning to snag her book bag off the floor, only to find Kit, Lexi and Evans watching us. I can see the questions in their eyes, the same ones Savannah has, but I can't answer them. Not tonight, not when the events of the day are pressing on me, so close my chest aches beneath their weight.

  "We're going to Savannah's," I mutter, slinging Savannah's bag over my shoulder before they can say anything.

  The girls step forward and hug Savannah. Kit leans in to whisper something to her, causing Savannah to bite her lip, nod, and murmur, "I'll do it tonight."

  Lexi squeezes my arm, shooting me a worried look.

  I avoid her gaze, turning to my girl. "Let's go home."

  "Bye," Savannah says to everyone before letting me lead her out of the mansion.

  We walk across the property in silence, Savannah's little hand warm in mine. She nestles close to my side, snuggled up against me as we make our way to her house. Our house? I don't even know anymore.

  Chris and Demetri's security guards wave to us as we pass by the massive gates designed to keep the curious away. The guards aren't like Paulson, hired by Matthew and left in place even after things started going to hell in a hand basket. They're seasoned professionals, trained to guard the rich, the powerful, and the famous. Chris pays them well to keep my girl and her family safe. If they resent standing at the gates like outsiders into this world, they don't show it. After everything Savannah and the Talbot girls have endured in recent months, I'm not sure who would envy them their place in this world of privilege and falsity anyway.

  I slide my hand into my pocket, pulling out the keys once my foot hits the bottom step. Savannah stands patiently beside me as I unlock the door and then usher her inside. Turning to the security alarm, I type in the code, momentarily disarming the system before resetting it. Once done, I drop Savannah's bag to the floor, take a deep breath, and turn to face her.

  She stands in the middle of the room, watching me with worry in her eyes. And once again, I don't know what to say to her. I don't want to tell her the fucked up thoughts and fears running rampant in my mind. I don't want to tell her what I saw today, or how I felt, or what's working its way through me now, turning my insides to ice.

  "I know we need to talk," I say, closing the distance between us. "But I don't want to talk right now. For tonight, all I want to do is strip you down and get lost in you, beautiful girl." I reach out to cup her cheek in my palm. "Let me take care of you tonight."

  She eyes me warily for a long time, and I can see the war in her gaze. She wants to ask what happened today, what I found, and why I'm acting so strange. Questions bleed into one another in her eyes, swirling in the depths. But she doesn't ask them. Instead, she bites her lip and nods, her expression clearing, and gives me what I've asked for. "Make love to me, Jared."

  Some of the weight resting on my shoulders vanishes with those five words. I sweep her up in my arms, carrying her toward our bedroom. She rests her head on my shoulder, her arms around my neck, with one small hand playing through the hair at the base of my skull.

  Flicking on the light in the hallway, I carry her into our room, leaving the lights inside turned off. I ease her onto her feet in front of me. The light from the hallway hits her, surrounding her in a nimbus of muted gold. I swallow hard at the image she presents. She's a Goddess, every bit the Mousai I named her so long ago.<
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  "Do you know the story of the Mousai?" I ask, stepping forward until we're an inch from pressing into one another in a long line. Her breasts brush across the fabric of my shirt with every soft exhale.

  She shakes her head, a furrow between her brows.

  "In Greek culture," I explain, reaching out to tug her shirt over her head, "the Mousai were the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne. They were the embodiment of godly beauty: perfect beings who were the source of knowledge and the arts." I drop her shirt to the floor, trailing my fingertips down her shoulder, sweeping aside the strap of her bra. "The Greeks believed they were a great source of inspiration." I tug the other strap down her shoulder before following the path with my lips and tongue, pulling a shudder from her.

  "But the Mousai were illusive," I whisper against her skin, "allowing no man to keep their beauty for himself. Their gifts were to be shared with the world, never kept hidden away." I flick open the clasp of her bra, running my lips all along the expanse of her shoulders and neck. "The Greeks believed all great works of art were gifts from the Mousai, so they would call out to these magnificent beings, pleading for them to share their talents through them, to share their beauty with the world through the works of the Greek people."

  Savannah moans as I tug my shirt over my head before pulling her up against me, her back to my chest. Her skin is soft and warm against mine, as close to heaven as anything on this earth. I run my hands down her arms and then around her torso, my fingertips dancing upward to cup her breasts. Her head falls back against my shoulder as I run my palms over her nipples, teasing the hardened flesh while planting kisses all over the side of her neck.

  "When the Mousai responded to their calls," I whisper against her skin, "the work produced was tremendous. With the help of these illusive Goddesses, the Greek people were able to create some of the most beautiful artwork ever to exist. The number of discoveries attributed to the Mousai by the Greeks is staggering." I put my lips to her ear, pulling her lobe into my mouth before releasing it. With my lips against the shell of her ear, I whisper, "The first time you let me touch you in this bed, I knew you were one of their greatest works of art, that you were one of them."