All Cried Out (All Falls Down Book 2)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "I'll give you time," I tell her, swallowing hard. She looks so broken, so lost. Not being able to comfort her or wrap her up in my embrace is torture. "But I'm not giving up on us. I'm not letting you go without a fight like I did last time. You're everything to me, and even if I have to fight for you forever, I will prove to you that there is nothing more important to me than you."

  "I'd like to believe you," she whispers, "but right now, I don't."

  And then she's gone, walking out of the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Everything is Lost

  I don't know how long I've been sitting on the edge of the table, staring blindly at the floor, but it's been several hours since Savannah walked out and I haven't moved. I'm numb. Shards of ice twist in my chest, compressing my heart. All I wanted to do was protect her. Instead, I might lose her. I don't even know where to begin trying to come to terms with that possibility. I don't want to accept that it could happen, that she could leave me for good over this.

  Christ. How did I mess this up so badly?

  When my phone rings, I'm lost in thought, trying to figure out how to fix this. Convincing Savannah not to give up on us is the only thing that matters to me right now.

  "Fuck," I mumble when the phone stops ringing and immediately starts again. Reaching into my pocket, I pull it out, barely sparing it a glance before I answer. "What?"

  "McKee was just spotted by your apartment," Lewis says.

  I'm on my feet in an instant, my heart hammering. "How long ago?"

  "Five minutes." He curses and then his horn blares. "One of our officers spotted him trying to sneak onto the property. He ran, but we have patrol cars crawling all over the place. There's no way he's disappearing into thin air this time."

  "I want to be there when you find him," I demand, pacing the floor. I need to be there, for reasons I can't even begin to explain to Lewis. Maybe I've shattered Savannah's faith in me, but I can at least do this one thing for her. Not because I think it'll bring her back to me, but because she needs this. Even if she never speaks to me again, I want her to have the assurance that McKee will never again threaten or hurt her or the people she cares about. She deserves that much from me.

  "No can do," Lewis says. "You're in no condition to be chasing him down."

  "Bullshit."

  "You lost it over the newspaper clippings, Corbit. And you weren't any better yesterday. You're on the verge of exploding. You're too close to this, and it's catching up to you."

  "I'm fine," I mutter, clenching my hands, pissed off that he's pulling this shit now.

  "Bullshit."

  "You'd want to be there if he was doing this to your wife."

  Lewis is quiet for a moment and then he curses, knowing damn well he can't deny that fact, not after what he told me about what happened with his wife. "If you come, you come unarmed, and you stay out of the way."

  "Fine." I don't even try to argue with him because he's right. Seeing the newspaper clippings tacked to McKee's wall the other day hit me hard. If the son of a bitch were to say something about Savannah or threaten her right now… I can't promise I wouldn't kill him.

  "I'll be there in fifteen."

  Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I rake a hand through my hair, tugging on the strands. I want to call Savannah, to tell her that we're close, closer than we've ever been to catching him, but I don't. I promised her time, and I'm going to respect that. For now. But I meant what I said, too. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life trying to win her back, that's what I'll do. Whatever it takes to make her understand that she means everything to me.

  I make my way outside to wait for Lewis. The wind blows hard, sending the musky scent of damp earth swirling through the air. Thick clouds hang an ominous silvery blue in the dark sky, another storm blowing in from the Bay. I send up a quick prayer that it holds long enough for us to find McKee. The last thing we need is for more rain to impede the search.

  Grabbing my cellphone, I send a quick text to Evans, letting him know that I'm leaving the property and to keep an eye on Savannah. Before he can text back, the phone rings, and a picture of Chris flashes across the screen. For a moment, I consider letting it go to voicemail. He'll be home in two days, and I don't want to ruin his honeymoon.

  I reluctantly swipe to answer.

  "Tell me you're going to kill that motherfucker," Chris says as soon as I put the phone to my ear, making it clear he already knows what's going on here.

  "I have to find him first."

  "What in the fuck is going on? He's stalking Savannah? And you didn't fucking call and tell us?" Chris is pissed, practically shouting his questions into the phone. "We should be there!"

  I hear Demetri in the background, trying to calm him down. It's not happening though. It takes a lot to set my brother off, but there is no stopping him once he gets going.

  "And why in the hell is Savannah staying at the mansion? What did you do? Dude, I told you before I'd kick your ass if you hurt her. If you don't fix whatever you did, I'm going to break your jaw. Why aren't you saying anything?"

  I grit my teeth. "Maybe because you won't shut up long enough for me to say anything."

  That stops him. Silence echoes down the line. Shaking my head, I quickly fill him in on everything that's going on with McKee.

  "You should have called me," he says quietly, anger in his voice.

  "Maybe so, but it's a moot point. He was spotted a few minutes ago. I'm heading out there now to help with the search."

  "Thank fuck," Chris sighs in relief and then he pauses. "Now, what the fuck did you do to Savannah? She wouldn't tell me, and that in and of itself tells me you did something really stupid."

  "Yeah, I did." I cup the nape of my neck, clearing my throat. It takes a minute before I work up the nerve to confess to Chris exactly what I did. Savannah is like a sister to him. He took her under his wing the second he found out we were dating, and hasn't stopped looking out for her since. He was there for her when I wasn't, taking care of her for me when I couldn't, and I've pissed off enough people in my life the last few days. I'm reluctant to add my brother to the list. But I can't lie to him about this, so I tell him the truth.

  He's silent for so long, I have to pull the phone away from my ear to make sure he hasn't hung up on me. And then a string of expletives fly from his mouth.

  "I know I screwed up," I say when he's finished. "But don't even pretend you would have done it any differently. You're as protective of her as I am."

  "Yeah, I am," he says, "but I wouldn't have been stupid enough to keep something like that from her. That's her mom, man. Doesn't matter what she did, that's still her mom, and you know damn well Savannah has always wanted answers from her."

  "I know." I just pray to God that Melinda meant what she said about being there if Savannah wanted to contact her. It may not happen today or even tomorrow, but I think I've always known Savannah would want to meet with her. And I think that's what scared me most: the fact that, as soon as I told Savannah the truth, this woman was going to walk back into her life, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

  The guard gate opens and Lewis pulls through.

  "Then fix it before I get home," Chris says.

  "You think I'm not trying?" I demand, suddenly pissed off that he's a thousand miles away and thinks he knows what's happening here, or that it's easily repaired. "She told me she needs time to think, and I'm fucking terrified she's going to leave me again, but I promised her time, and I'm giving it to her. I don't need you telling me to fix it when I'm doing my best, so settle the fuck down and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon. I'm dealing with shit here." Before he can respond, I end the call and shove my phone into my pocket, jogging down the steps to meet Lewis.

  I'm so fucking ready to find McKee, it's not even funny.

  "Any luck this time?" Evans asks as I trudge up the steps to Savannah's a little after two in the morning.

  "Fuck no," I mutter, striving for calm. My
shirt is drenched, my head pounds, and I'm ready to explode. Lewis and I spent hours out there, combing through every dumpster, every alley, and every nook and cranny large enough for McKee to hide in, and he still managed to slip past us. It's like the Universe or the Fates or whatever the hell is in charge has aligned against us to keep the bastard free. McKee's one step ahead of us at every damn turn. Putting him behind bars is the only thing I have to offer Savannah right now, and I can't even accomplish that much.

  "How is she?"

  Evans hesitates before answering. "She's okay."

  "No, she isn't." I lean my head against the door, feeling completely defeated. I hate this. I hate that she's a short walk away and I can't go over there. I hate that I can't comfort her or tell her I love her. And I fucking hate that I'm the asshole she's crying over right now.

  "Give it time," he tells me again. "She's safe over here. You just do what you have to do, and everything will work out."

  "Yeah," I sigh and push away from the door, raking a hand through my wet hair. "I'll catch you tomorrow, man. Thank you for looking after her for me. I know that's not what you signed up for, but I appreciate you doing it."

  "It's cool," he murmurs. "Later."

  "Yeah, later." I put my key in the door, only to realize it's already unlocked. I'm so exhausted, I can't remember if I locked the damn thing or set the alarm when I left. "Get a grip," I mutter to myself, pushing into the house. I toss my keys and phone on the table beside the door, my hands going to the hem of my damp shirt to pull it off when I hear shuffling coming from the kitchen.

  What the fuck?

  I reach for my gun, only to remember it's not on my hip but in the drawer where Lewis demanded I leave it. My feet are already moving in that direction when McKee steps out of the kitchen.

  We've been looking for the bastard for days, and he manages to slip through our fingers and onto the Talbot Estate. Fury pounds through me hard and fast.

  The fact that he looks like shit is inordinately pleasing to me. He hasn't shaved in days. His eyes are bleary, dark bruises beneath. His t-shirt is wrinkled, his jeans dirty. He's not the same put together dick he was a week ago when he smashed Savannah's car, let alone the same urbane bastard I sent back to Italy with his jaw wired together months ago.

  My eyes catch on the weapon in his hands and I freeze, eyeing him warily.

  "Where's my girl?" he asks.

  "She's not yours," I say, my voice soft. "She's never been yours, and she'll never be yours." I don't know why I say it, but I can't stop myself. There's no way I'm going to let him stand here now and say she's his. He didn't even have her when he thought he did. He controlled her. He manipulated her. He abused her. But he never had her.

  His eyes narrow, his face turning red. "She's always been mine," he snaps.

  "No," I say, shaking my head, "she hasn't."

  "I love her."

  "You don't torment people you love. You don't abuse them, and destroy them. You're a child, pissed because she's moved on and left you where you belong: in her past. It fucking kills you that she's not hung up on you, doesn't it?" I take a step toward him, so pissed I can't see straight. "You can't stand the fact that she's moved on and you're nothing but an unpleasant memory to her."

  "It's your fault!" he growls, the thin veneer of civility crumbling before my eyes. He waves the gun in my direction, sneering. "You twisted everything around so she'd hate me, and then you took her away from me."

  I say nothing, trying to think rationally so I don't provoke him. Pushing him now isn't going to solve anything. If anything, it's going to get me shot. And that I can't allow. Not when Savannah's so close and there's no way to warn anyone that he's here.

  We eye each other for a moment, sizing one another up, neither of us moving.

  Fury burns in his dark eyes, scorching me where I stand. His face is red, his temples pulsing with the force of his hatred. He looms across the room like a massive, wild animal… so fucking dangerous, I try not to breathe too deeply, hesitant to set him off.

  "You did this," he seethes, the crazed lights of his eyes intensifying as he glares at me. A muscle in his jaw ticks, spittle flying from his mouth. He's cracking, losing himself to the hatred he's spewed at me since I came through the front door. "It's all your fault!"

  I stand silently, my hands lifted to show that I'm not a threat to him in this moment. My heart beats loudly in my chest, her name pounding through me with every sharp pulse against my ribcage.

  Savannah. Savannah. Savannah.

  I'm dying to get to her, to protect her from this son of a bitch, but I can't. There's not a fucking thing I can do to keep her safe aside from what I'm already doing. And I'm terrified it's not going to be enough.

  The gun in his hands—my gun—is trained on me, unwavering as he stares me down, just waiting for me to make a move so he can end this. So he can justify in his mind that he's in the right here. I rushed him. I attacked him. He had to shoot me to defend his life.

  It's bullshit, of course.

  He came into my home uninvited.

  He tormented my fiancée.

  And if I make a move now, he's going to kill her.

  The one thing I never thought I'd want, I now pray for with everything in me: Please God, don't let her walk through that door.

  I can't lose her.

  Not now.

  Not to this son of a bitch.

  Not ever.

  "Let's talk about this," I say, keeping my voice calm and steady, trying to reason with him. To make him realize he's never going to get away with this. As soon as he pulls the trigger, his life is over.

  I'm an FBI agent. They'll annihilate him.

  I don't think he gives a shit.

  He's beyond rational, beyond caring.

  "Fuck you," he snarls as if on cue.

  I fight the urge to flinch as his voice reverberates around the room before slipping through the open window into the night beyond. I send up a silent prayer that the sound doesn't bring anyone here. That she stays in the mansion with the girls, pissed off and hurting. Crying because of me.

  Christ, I never thought I'd want that either… for her to cry because of me. But so long as she's crying, she's breathing. She's safe.

  Beautiful, sweet girl, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

  The thought that I may never get to say those words to her—that I may never get to make things right between us—kills me. She's my life, everything I live for, and right now, I'm not even sure if she knows that.

  "You destroyed my life," he says, recalling my attention. Spittle flies from his mouth again, wetting his lips. "You took everything from me!"

  I desperately want to remind him that he lost everything on his own. He destroyed his own life. I merely ensured his fall hurt as much as he deserved. But I don't say those words. As true as they are, I'm not stupid enough to get into all of that with him now.

  "I'm sorry," I lie instead, trying to placate him, attempting to buy myself some time. I'm not sorry for a damn thing I've done to him, but he's clutching my gun in his hands, and there isn't another weapon in sight. I need him off balance, just long enough for me to knock the Glock out of his hands and wrap my own around his fucking throat. He's not walking out of this room alive.

  He's not going to get to her. Even if it kills me, I'll keep her safe.

  Savannah, baby, I love you.

  He stares at me for a long, tense moment, and then he smiles. It's dark, twisted with hatred and anger. "I want her to see your body," he says, taking a step toward me. "I want to see the look on her face when she finds you and realizes you'll never kiss her again. You'll never fuck her again."

  A chill shoots through me, freezing me from the inside out as something perilously close to excitement ghosts across his face. The sick son of a bitch means what he just said. He wants her to find my body. He wants to watch her break into pieces.

  No.

  I'll rip him apart before I let him do that to her.

 
"I want her to know that I did this. I took you from her. I won." He takes another step toward me, and then another. The gun doesn't waver. "She'll live the rest of her life knowing that she caused this when she let you ruin my life."

  I hold my breath, praying he keeps coming toward me. Six more steps, that's all I need. If he takes them, he'll be close enough for me to make my move. I can finally wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him for threatening her.

  Adrenaline fires through me when he takes another step, pumping me up.

  My heart races, every nerve-ending in my body firing, preparing me to leap on him.

  "She'll beg me to kill her," he continues, growing more animated, as if the insanity he's spewing breathes life into him. As if the thought of tormenting my girl like that turns him on.

  I want to vomit at the thought, but I don't. I don't move. I don't breathe. I just wait.

  "When she sees what she made me do to you, she'll beg me to hurt her."

  Come the fuck on! I want to scream when he stops moving, far enough away to prevent me from launching myself at him. Far enough away to give him time to shoot before I can close the distance between us. Rage pounds through me, all that adrenaline demanding action I can't take. I've got one shot at this, only one… and for her sake, I can't fuck it up.

  "I can't wait to watch what that does to her," he says. "To see her realize she'll never get her fucking fairytale. Instead of walking down the aisle to meet you, she'll be walking toward your casket. She'll know you're dead because of her. She won't care what I do to her then. I'm going to enjoy fucking her while she cries for you."

  The desire to kill him rages through me unchecked, rising in intensity at his taunt. My hands clench into tight fists. I lean forward on the balls of my feet, desperate to silence him as he continues on, telling me in lurid detail what he's going to do to Savannah when I'm gone.

  "Jared?"

  I freeze the instant her sweet voice sounds from outside the front door. He freezes too, the disgusting scene he's been painting for me dying on his lips at the sound of her voice so close.