by Amy Olle
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”
“I’m fine.” But a scowl tipped down the corners of his mouth when he shifted in his seat, as though he were uncomfortable.
They drove in silence the rest of the way to her apartment, where he steered his car up close to the curb and put it in Park.
He didn’t turn off the engine.
“Aren’t you going to walk me up?”
Frowning, he gave her another eerie once-over, and then his expression cleared. “I don’t see any parking spots. Do you mind if I just drop you off here?”
That’s when it hit her. A month after taking over her safekeeping, the threat he feared wasn’t external but internal. He wasn’t worried someone might attack her again. He was worried about what she might do to hurt herself.
Her cheeks heated with her mortification.
When he snuck a glance at her, she saw the same gravity that had been there since he’d collected her from Leo’s home, but for the first time she noticed the touch of pity in his eyes.
He felt sorry for her, and she had a sickening suspicion it wasn’t due to the ordeal of the last few weeks. More likely, he believed she’d fallen for a guy that would never want her. Again.
She scrambled from his car and darted up the brick path to her apartment building, her feet pounding in time to her racing heart. At the top of the stairs, she flung open the door to her apartment and slammed it shut behind her, barricading herself inside.
She didn’t want Owen to feel sorry for her, and she certainly didn’t need him to tell her she’d been an idiot to fall in love with Leo.
Why had she done it? Why had she given anyone the power to hurt her again? Of all people, why him, her brother’s best friend?
She would’ve cried except she’d shed all her tears. Her heart was empty and she had nothing left to give.
Not to anyone else, ever again.
The bullet had shattered Leo’s hip bone. After two surgeries, it’d taken months of recovery and grueling rehab before he was well again. Physically, at least.
In all that time, Lauren’s tears never stopped. All she did was cry, and the rare times they talked, she would look at him with accusation in her eyes. He wanted to keep trying to rebuild their lives, believing they could find their way back to each other, and he told her that as often as he could, every time they spoke about anything of substance.
Until one day she asked him to stop.
“I won’t stop saying it, Lauren. I love you.”
“No, I don’t mean stop saying it. I mean stop trying.” She spoke in a flat monotone. “I don’t want to try anymore, Leo.”
Blinking away the memory, Leo turned his head.
Above him, a form appeared in the shape of a man.
Jack scowled down at him. “What happened to you?”
With effort, Leo sat. Light-headed, he rubbed a hand across his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d lain there, in the doorway of her bedroom.
“Where’s Prue?” Jack wanted to know.
“She’s gone.”
Jack put a hand under Leo’s arm and dragged him to his feet. “You been drinking?”
“No. You got anything?”
A wide smile split Jack’s face. “I got something better than alcohol.”
Moments later, Leo glared at Jack from his spot at the opposite end of the garage. “In what world is this better than alcohol?”
Jack drew back his hockey stick and with a sharp slice sent the tennis ball rocketing at Leo’s head.
Reflexively, Leo knocked the ball down with his stick before it took out his teeth. The surge of adrenaline winged through his veins, and Jack’s low, taunting chuckle was the dog whistle of his youth. The youngest of five boys, he’d had to fight to get anything he wanted. A turn on the bike, the last cookie, a chance to steer the boat. Everything came down to who wanted it more, and for Leo, who for years had been smaller and slower than the others, that fight was never easy.
He turned the stick over slowly in his hands, getting the feel for it again after so long. Then he wound up and struck, trying to hit his brother in the face because admittedly, that would be better than alcohol.
The nastiest game of one-on-one hockey they’d ever played ensued. In their epic struggle, the ball pinged off walls and ricocheted off their cars parked in the driveway. When they took out one of the overhead lightbulbs and stopped to clean up the broken glass, Jack checked the time on his cell phone.
“We better get going or we’re gonna be late,” he said, sliding the phone into his hip pocket.
“I didn’t know we were going somewhere.”
“Haven wants to see you.” His teeth flashed white in his tanned face. “She wants to do your hair and dress you up like you’re her little dolly.”
Leo’s mouth twisted with his dry smirk. “I’d bet my left nut that Haven never played with dolls.”
The smile on Jack’s face turned to pure adoration. “No way am I taking that bet.” He lifted the tennis ball on the end of his hockey stick and flipped it to Leo. “Keep your balls. Something tells me you’re going to need them.”
Leo made Jack wait while he took a quick shower, his first in days, then together they climbed into Jack’s car. But fifteen minutes later, when they pulled up at Luke and Emily’s home, Leo balked.
“I thought we were going to your place,” he said.
“The builders are putting down the floors today. Haven’s here to study and get away from the noise for a while.”
Inside, Jack went in search of his soon-to-be wife while Leo hung back, his stomach knotting with The Fear. Where the hell was Haven? She needed to give him this damned haircut so he could get out of this house.
He moved into the living room and sank down on the overstuffed sofa. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head onto the sofa back and concentrated on taking slow, even breaths.
At the sound of rustling nearby, Leo cracked open one eye to find Emily collapsed in an armchair. Like him, she laid her head on the chair back and closed her eyes.
He lifted his head and shot a few quick glances around, not sure what to do. Just as he started to get up, Luke staggered into the room and flopped onto the sofa beside him. His brother burrowed down into the cushions, and the sounds of his deep, even breathing soon joined Emily’s.
Leo gaped at them. He noted the heavy bags under both their eyes and their rumpled appearances.
A shriek punctured the quiet in the room.
Luke and Emily awoke with panicked jolts while Leo surged to his feet, the sound of the crying baby grating across his heart like broken glass. His chest ached and he rubbed a hand over his pec, trying to massage away the pain.
“Luke, sweetie, it’s your turn.”
Luke had already started to doze again.
“Luke.” Emily’s voice snapped in a way Leo had never heard before.
His brother thrashed to an upright position in the cushions.
“The baby,” Emily said. “It’s your turn.”
With a groan of frustration, Luke sagged. “Okay, I got him.”
But Luke didn’t move. The baby’s howls intensified and, with frantic head jerks, Leo looked from one exhausted parent to the other and back.
“Luke,” Emily whined.
Leo swallowed with difficulty. “I’ll get him.” Instinct to tend to the cries overrode his fear. “If you want….”
Luke’s emphatic “Yes” shot out over Emily’s quiet plea of “Oh, please, go.”
His legs filled with lead, Leo walked down the hall, every painful step taking him closer to the heartrending sound. The door to the family suite stood open, and he passed through it to arrive at the baby’s room.
With a bracing breath, he pushed the door open wide.
The crib stood in the corner beneath a mobile of flying elephants and he crept toward it. Fear and anger and despair choked a sob from him as he peeked over the crib rail.
The little guy k
icked his tiny arms and legs in frustration. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his small mouth contorted with his wails.
Wetness streamed down both his and the baby’s cheeks when he reached into the crib and lifted the squirming bundle into his arms. A moment later, the baby realized someone held him and his shrieks quieted to weak protests. Leo gently jostled him, and with a few furious blinks, the baby’s cloudy blue eyes latched on to his face.
Emotion piled in Leo’s throat and he made a strangled sound, like a sob or a laugh.
The severe scowl in place, the baby gurgled and cooed, registering his list of complaints with his uncle.
“I know.” Leo stuck out his finger and a teeny fist clamped around it. “Wow, you’re a strong little guy, aren’t you?”
Leo kept up the rhythmic jostling until a yawn caused his nephew’s miniature chin to quiver, and then, finally, his eyes drooped shut. The moment Leo thought it safe to do so, he returned the infant to the crib.
Then he bolted, bursting out into the hallway as his sobs broke loose. He pulled the door closed and, pressing his back against it, sank to the floor.
Goddammit, would the hurting never let up? His chest ached, and he dragged painful breaths into his lungs.
Footsteps sounded in the hall and he wiped the wet from his cheeks a moment before Haven appeared.
“Wait. What is that sound?” After a beat, her hands dropped to her sides. “Oh my God. It’s silence. How did you do that?”
As she collapsed on the floor beside him, Leo scrubbed a hand through his hair.
Jack appeared in the doorway and stumbled to a stop to find them on the floor at his feet. “Oh no. He defeated you, too? A fucking Marine? His mom and dad don’t stand a chance.”
Haven nudged Leo with her shoulder. “You okay?”
Leo stared at the wall across from them. He hadn’t been okay in years. Not since he lost her. He was sick, and he was tired, and he had no idea what to do about any of it. He was tired of the pain that never ended. Tired of turning that pain on others who didn’t deserve it. Tired of holding it all inside him. Holding her inside him instead of letting her memory live in the world.
His mouth moved before he finally forced out the awful words. “I had a daughter.”
“Fuck, Leo….” Jack stepped over Leo’s legs and dropped to the ground beside him. “What happened?”
Leo met his brother’s troubled gaze. He swallowed hard. “She died.”
Jack’s eyes glittered with pain. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Haven had hooked her arm under Leo’s, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
“She was born too early.” Leo spoke softly while his heart screamed. “She was a fighter and fought hard the whole first week but… she… didn’t make it through her second week.”
“How long ago did she die?” Haven asked, her voice a suffocated whisper.
“She would’ve turned four next month.”
Jack dragged a hand over his mouth as if to hold back the storm of emotion visible on his face and Haven’s silent tears fell onto the sleeve of Leo’s T-shirt. They sat together in silence for a long time, guarding the baby’s bedroom door and tending to their broken hearts.
“I think she’s with your mom,” Haven said softly. “And your mom is so happy because she finally has a baby girl. Her baby’s baby.”
Beside him, a light sound escaped Jack.
“Oh c’mon, you know I’m right,” Haven said. “I mean, the poor woman had five boys.”
“Maybe she’s taking care of Noah’s baby, too,” Jack said.
Leo’s breath caught. “Noah?”
“Mina miscarried last year.”
Leo dropped his head against the wall with a soft thud, a fresh wound tearing across his heart.
“What was your mom’s name?” Haven asked.
“Fiona,” Jack said.
“Fiona.” The name held Haven’s smile. “I think my brother is with them, or he visits, or lives nearby, or something—I don’t really know how it works.”
Unbelievably, a laugh rumbled in Leo’s chest.
“But they’re together,” she continued. “And one day we’ll all get to be there with them.”
Leo laid his head on top of hers. “I like the sound of that.”
“But not yet,” Jack clarified.
“No, not yet,” Haven agreed. “Let them have their fun. Five boys, for crying out loud. Can you imagine how ecstatic she is to have a little girl?” She pinched Leo’s arm. “You know I’m right.”
“I will never admit that,” Leo said.
“Smart man,” Jack muttered under his breath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As the sun neared the horizon, Jack dropped Leo off back at the cottage.
Inside, the home was quiet. Empty.
Drawn like a moth to the fatal flame, Leo returned to her bedroom doorway. The fading light cast the room in a warm orange glow, and for the first time since he’d returned to this place, he found the courage to truly look, to see the space that would have been his daughter’s.
His gaze touched the flooring and the walls, noting the work he had wanted to do. He considered the bookcases, which he’d wanted to fill with the toys and books and stuffed animals of a child spoiled by her parents’ love.
Then his eyes landed on the bed.
More precisely, on her computer, lying alone atop the bedspread.
The punch of love knocked him square in the chest. He moved to the device and, opening it, flipped it on. Quickly, he searched and found all her files there, plus a few he hadn’t seen before, and all of Claymore’s files as well.
Emotions rushed in to fill his heart, but they were coming too quickly for him to pick apart and analyze.
She’d given up her work. All of it. Everything.
For him.
Too full, his heart exploded.
Of course, she could’ve made copies, or moved everything to an external storage space that she could access later, but her gesture was as clear and true as the blue of her eyes.
She gave it all up, everything that mattered to her, at the off chance it might make him happy. And she did. Damn, she really did. Unfortunately, he hadn’t recognized that truth until he saw her laptop.
Regret and longing snarled through him. He wished he could’ve made her happy, too. Instead, he’d been the source of her pain.
If he knew a way to make it up to her, he would. If there was anything at all—
The thought struck him like a thunderbolt. He knew exactly what to do with her research.
Well, not all the steps, but he’d figure them out as he went along. It’s what he should’ve done the minute he’d realized the magnitude of her discoveries about Aron King, except he’d been too much of a chickenshit to see the thing through for her.
Suddenly his feet were moving under him, and for the next several days, he plotted it all out, then set the plan in motion. He placed phone calls and scheduled meetings, talked to Claymore and Owen and Gideon, and to several of their contacts, too.
When he’d guaranteed everything was in place, he booked his flight and packed his bag.
And that’s when he received the text from Claymore.
Our man is on the move.
Hours later, Leo’s plane touched down in Boston. He didn’t get a hotel room because he didn’t plan to stay that long, but Owen hadn’t called with their meeting location yet. With time to kill, he picked up his car at the airport rental counter and headed to Prue’s work.
A few hours remained to her workday, and he didn’t wish to drop in on her while she was at her day job, so he contented himself with driving through her parking lot and peering through the windows of her car.
Except her car wasn’t in the lot.
Leo didn’t panic, however. Knowing Claymore and Owen checked in with each other daily, Leo had kept informed of Prue’s protection by badgering Claymore for constant updates. Hence he knew Owen dropped Prue off and picked her up
from work every day. He did a recon of the neighborhood, which turned up nothing suspicious or worrisome.
When he returned to his car, the late-summer sun warmed his head and back, and he dropped his suit coat on the passenger seat and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows before slipping behind the wheel.
He exited Prue’s work lot and headed east. There was one more stop he wanted to make while he waited for the call from Owen.
The cemetery was one of the oldest in Boston, the town where Lauren had grown up. After the attack, they’d flown her and the baby to the hospital there, and so that’s where Leo had buried his daughter.
He steered his vehicle through the sprawling grounds, toward the far end of the cemetery’s property where the newer plots were, and pulled off the lane to park beneath the umbrella of a tree.
He’d picked out a small headstone and chosen a simple engraving to honor her too-brief life. The last time he’d visited her resting place, all he could do was tell her how much he missed her, and wanted her back, and how sorry he was that he’d failed to protect her.
He told her all those things again now, but the truth didn’t empty his soul the same way it had only weeks ago. This time, he told her what he remembered of his mom, her grandma, and asked her to help Grandma watch over the others. He told her how he was going to try to be a better man, one who deserved her for a daughter, and was worthy of a woman like Prue. A smile even touched his heart when he told his baby girl about Prue.
Then he said goodbye.
Sliding the smooth, round stone from his pocket, he placed it on Rose’s headstone as Mina had asked him to do. Then he turned and walked back to the car.
He wanted a drink, but knew he wouldn’t have one.
As he reached for the door handle, a black sedan pulled up behind him, and when he glanced through the windshield, the hairs lifted on his neck. The man behind the wheel and the woman in the passenger seat both watched him, but they didn’t get out of their car, so he pulled open his door.
When he had one foot inside his vehicle, the sedan’s passenger door opened, and Lauren emerged.
