Avenging Christa: A Billionaire Romance (Irresistibly Mine Book 2)

by Tracie Delaney

  The first smile I’d seen in a week broke on Nina’s face, her expression the complete opposite of Dayton’s. “I love you, Christa,” she said. “You’re exactly what my can-sometimes-be-a-complete-ass brother needs.”

  “Well, someone has to keep him in check.” I shook my head. “Honestly, Dayton, you don’t have to vocalize every thought in your head.”

  A spluttering laugh erupted from Nina, this time probably because of the incensed expression on Dayton’s face.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “I’ll shut up then, yeah?”

  “That’d be best,” I said condescendingly. I even added a shoulder pat.

  “You’re priceless,” Nina said, wiping a stray tear away, although I was certain this one was brought on by laughter.

  I held out my pinkie. “Us girls gotta stick together.”

  Nina giggled and twisted her pinkie around mine. The mood inside the car lifted at our mutual goading of Dayton, which had been my intention.

  “When are you going back to Chicago?” Dayton asked, clearly fed up with us.

  Nina twirled a lock of hair around her finger, teasing him. “I’d planned to head back tomorrow, but I may stick around a bit longer.” She winked at me. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” he grumbled, then proceeded to stare out the window.

  “I think Nina should stay for the rest of the week,” I said, turning to Dayton. “That way, you could go into the office, rather than stay home keeping an eye on me.”

  Dayton locked gazes with me, his eyes narrowing. “Anyone would think you wanted to get rid of me.”

  “Of course I don’t,” I said, knowing he’d be hurt if I told him I craved some space. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s been difficult for you to work from home this week. You need to be at the sharp end, where you can keep an eye on things.”

  Dayton nodded, deep in thought. “Would you be okay staying the week?” he asked Nina.

  “Absolutely. I can work from your penthouse more easily than you can. I’m remote whether I’m at your place or the Manhattan office. And I’ll get to spend time with Max, too.”

  “Okay.” He felt for my hand, squeezing it. “As long as you’re in agreement with that.”

  “Works for me,” I said, trying not to smile too broadly. With Dayton out of the way, I could work longer hours than he’d allowed this week. I was in the middle of developing some new software code, and I needed peace and quiet—rather than him breathing down my neck to finish it. When I returned to the office next week, I wanted it ready to demo to Greg.

  He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “Then it works for me.”

  I slowly lowered myself down onto the bed, my back to Dayton so he couldn’t see me wincing. Today had taken more out of me than I cared to admit, but I remembered from the last two rounds of surgery that the first week was the worst. From here on, I should start to feel a whole lot better.

  I tucked the covers around my legs and picked up a book I’d been reading about software engineering. Dayton had his iPad resting on bent legs, tapping away, probably answering emails. He worked too damned hard, but with the time out he’d taken to help me deal with Sutton, the trips back and forth to Seattle, as well as this sorry business with his father, I knew he felt out of the loop. That was another reason I wanted him to go back to the office this week.

  “I think you should talk to Nina.”

  He paused, mid-type, and twisted his head to look at me. “About what?”

  I kept my eyes on my book, even though I wasn’t really paying attention. “About your father.”

  He expelled a long, drawn-out sigh, and swept a hand over his face. “What’s the point? He’s dead.”

  I let the book fall onto my lap. “That’s exactly the point.”

  His brows drew low into a deep frown. “I’m not following.”

  “I could be wrong, which is why I think you should talk to her, but I’m worried she regrets that she didn’t try to reconcile with your father, and now it’s too late.”

  His eyes opened wide, and he sat up straighter. His iPad fell onto the bed with a thunk.

  “When I picked Nina up at the airport, she told me that closure for her was to look him in the eye and show him he hadn’t won. That she was happy despite his best efforts to the contrary, which is exactly what she did when we were at the hospital. She hates my father as much as I do.”

  “Does she? Have you asked her?”

  “I don’t need to ask her.”

  “Helpful,” I said, unable to keep sarcasm from bleeding into my tone.

  He gave the smallest shake of his head. “I don’t mean to be dismissive, but what would it achieve? Nothing. All it’ll do is drag up memories that are best left buried with that fucker.”

  I nibbled on my lip. I had a theory, but he wasn’t going to like it. “I think Nina stayed away from your father because of you.”

  His forehead creased, and his eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

  I nodded. “She is well aware how much you hate him, and she put your feelings first. I’m not saying she doesn’t hate him, too, for what he did to you both, but I also think Nina is more empathetic than you are. I think she desperately wanted to try and understand why he treated you both so badly, what his reasons were for throwing you out on the street with little more than the clothes on your back, and now she’ll never know.”

  His jaw tightened, and I could hear the sound of bone and enamel grinding together. “My father was a bastard. Pure and simple. I won’t sit here and pretend to mourn for a man I abhorred. And as for his reasons…” He snorted. “There are no excuses for what he did. I don’t see what good going over old ground would do either me or Nina.”

  “Talking about it might help you both move on.”

  “I have fucking moved on!”

  He raked a hand through his hair while I sat in silence. He’d done no such thing, but he had to come to that realization on his own.

  Seconds turned into minutes, but I refused to look away, and eventually, Dayton met my gaze. His eyes were bleak, his shoulders curved. “I can’t forgive him, Christa. I won’t.”

  “I know,” I said softly. “And I’m not asking you to.”

  Dayton’s ability to hold a grudge, to keep going until he served his own brand of justice, was the very thing I was relying on to help me beat Sutton. But at the same time, I wanted him to recognize that holding on to hatred for his father, especially now that he’d passed, would destroy him in the end. He’d already won. He’d beaten the man who’d abused him for all those years and, now his father was dead, Dayton had to let that shit go.

  “But what I am saying is that you need to be there for Nina and, by helping her come to terms with her grief—and her regrets that she didn’t reach out to your father before it was too late—will heal your own wounds. Then, and only then, will you truly leave all this behind you.”

  He blinked, and then nodded. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. Now will you drop it, please?”

  I put my book on the nightstand, then curled into Dayton’s side. I gave him a goofy grin. “Consider it dropped.”

  I loved winning our little tiffs.

  18

  Dayton

  I did as Christa asked—correction, insisted—and spoke to Nina. I’d always considered us to be extremely close, but when she cried in my arms and told me she wished she’d at least tried to get through to our father—confirming Christa’s suspicions—I felt like an absolute fucker. My hatred for him, and her love for me, had meant she’d let the days, weeks, months, and years slide by, all the while harboring an urge to at least try.

  But I didn’t regret a single action. If Nina spent the rest of her life blaming me, thinking that it was my fault she didn’t feel able to reach out to him, I’d take it, because it was far, far preferable to the alternative—that she’d have been exposed to his vile, blackened soul.

  I hadn’t told her what he’d said to me before he’d die
d, or the look I’d seen in his eyes as he’d taken his final breaths—that I’d witnessed the full extent of his vicious core as it exposed itself with shuddering clarity. He hadn’t cared about us because he’d never had it within him to care. Charles Loxton Somers had only given a shit about one person, and that was himself. His final words to me were testament to that. He loved to see me suffer. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a single moment of empathy.

  Christa had been right to urge me to talk to Nina, because it allowed my sister to get it all off her chest. By the time I dropped her at the private airfield on Friday afternoon, she was standing a little taller, her spine erect, color had returned to her cheeks, and her gorgeous smile was firmly back in place.

  “Call me when you land,” I said, leaning forward to peck her cheek.

  “I will. Tell Christa I’ll give her a ring over the weekend. I know she’s dreading tonight.”

  A surge of anger tightened my jaw, and my stomach formed into knots. Atwood’s second weekend with Max. Fuck, had it only been three weeks since we’d gone to Niagara and received the call I’d hoped would change everything? Well, that had been a waste of fucking time, hadn’t it? And still there was nothing further from Draven. Every day that passed I lost a little more hope that we’d find a way to get Atwood out of our lives for good. Even if there were more Kathys out there, we had to find them first. Then we had to persuade them to relive the worst time in their lives and potentially come face to face with a man who’d done unspeakable things to them, all to help someone they didn’t know.

  The chances of pulling that off were tantamount to winning the fucking lottery.

  “Yeah, we both are.” I rubbed my chin. “I hate that fucker. I despise what he did to Christa, and it kills me that we have to let Max go with him, and there isn’t a damned thing we can do about it.”

  Nina hugged me. “Love you both so much, and the little man. Give him a big kiss from his Aunty Nina.”

  I watched as she walked up the steps to the plane. She turned around at the top and waved, blew me a kiss, then disappeared inside.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I answered it without looking at the screen. “Somers.”

  “It’s Draven. Are you sitting down?”

  My heart began to gallop, and a prickling sensation caused me to flex my fingers. “Go on.”

  “I found another Kathy.”

  I slammed my fist on the roof of my car. “I fucking knew it. When do we go talk to her?”

  “We don’t,” Draven said.

  I frowned. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because she’s dead.”

  My mouth dropped open, and then, as the shock receded, disappointment twisted my insides. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and took a deep breath to calm the storm swirling in my gut. “How did she die?”

  “Suicide.”

  Fuck!

  “Then what’s the point of this call?” I snapped, my frustration not aimed at Draven but at the run of bad luck we were having, at the unfairness of this whole situation. At Sutton Fucking Atwood.

  “I’m calling because her family has agreed to talk to you,” Draven ground out. “Her name is—was—Sunny, and she killed herself exactly one year after Atwood assaulted her. That was nine years ago. Her parents found her hanging in her bedroom. She was nineteen.”

  Nausea churned in my stomach, and I clasped a hand around my middle. “So he did it again, after Kathy?”

  “Seems like it, yeah. Probably waited until the heat died down before picking another victim.”

  “Jesus.” I scraped a hand through my hair. The engines fired up on Nina’s plane, making it difficult to talk. “Hang on a sec.” I got in the car, turned the ignition, then drove away. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.” Draven’s voice came through the car speakers. “I’m gonna keep searching for more victims. I doubt he suddenly developed a conscience. I’ll email what I know and text you the address and phone number for Sunny’s parents. They’re expecting your call.”

  “Thanks.” I pressed a button on the dash, cutting the call. A few seconds later, my phone dinged with a text from Draven, giving me the details.

  “Jesus, fuck, bastard!” I whacked the steering wheel. I’d thought my father had been evil, but he was Mother fucking Theresa when compared to Atwood. Poor Sunny. Poor, poor kid. I could not imagine feeling that your life was so worthless, it was better to end it all rather than continue on.

  I drove home, breaking several speed limits. I launched out of the car, jogged over to the private elevator, and punched in the code. On the way up, I scanned Draven’s email. The details were scant, but I was hoping her parents could fill in the gaps.

  “Christa?” I called out as soon as I entered the living room.

  She appeared at the far end of the hallway, outside Max’s room. “I’m here. Just getting his bag ready.” Her mouth turned down at the edges, and there was a bow to her spine. “Everything okay with Nina?”

  “Yeah. We talked. I’ll update you later.” I went to join her, picking Max up and throwing him over my shoulder. His peals of laughter lightened the weight in my heart. “Listen, when Max has gone, I need to talk to you.”

  She put the last of his things in his overnight bag, then zipped it up. “Everything okay?”

  I nodded. “Let’s deal with this first.”

  Atwood arrived, right on time. I ground my teeth as the elevator doors opened and he swaggered out. I glared at him, seeing him through a different lens. I’d always known he was a psychopath who derived enormous pleasure from hurting others, especially Christa, but now, I also knew he was a rapist and, in my eyes, a murderer. If he hadn’t attacked Sunny, she wouldn’t have taken her own life.

  “Hey, Max,” he said, crouching to Max’s level. “Ready to go?”

  As he put his filthy, rapist hands on the child I’d come to think of as my own, I almost lost it. Almost. I held it together by the skin of my teeth and by digging my fingernails into my palms until I drew blood. Normally, I’d put a brave face on, for Max’s sake, but today, I just didn’t have it in me.

  “See you later, bud,” I said, trying—and failing—to muster a smile. I spun around and went inside my penthouse, not trusting myself to remain in the company of that animal for a second longer.

  Christa joined me a couple of minutes later. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Draven’s found another girl.”

  Christa gasped, but I carried on. “Except this one killed herself a year after Atwood raped her.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh God,” she said, the sound coming out all muffled. She clasped her knees and bent over. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  I caught her before her legs gave out and helped her through to the living room. Placing her gently on the couch, I then fetched her a glass of water. I sat beside her as she sipped. Once she’d had enough, and her nausea had retreated, I put the glass on the coffee table and clasped her hand.

  “The parents are willing to talk to us. Draven texted me the details. They live in West Virginia, so it’s not too far to travel. Sunny, that’s their daughter, was at college in Seattle when the attack happened. Draven tracked down her old college roommate who ID’d Atwood after Draven showed her a photograph. According to her friend, Sunny met Atwood in a bar one night. They left together that evening, and we think that’s when the attack must have happened. Sunny never returned to college.”

  “Did she…?” Christa bit her lip. “Did Sunny report it to the police, too?”

  “We don’t believe so. Draven couldn’t find a case number. He’s sent me the parents’ contact details. They’re willing to talk to us, so hopefully they can shed more light on what happened.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think it would be a good idea if you came along, but I totally understand if you’re not feeling up to it.”

  She shook her head firmly. “Nope. I’m coming. I feel much better than
I did earlier in the week, and I want to hear what they’ve got to say. If I go, it personalizes it more, too. I want to offer my sympathies.” She narrowed her eyes. “How long ago did she die?”

  “Nine years.”

  She looked up and to the left, then cut her gaze back to me. “It happened after Kathy then.”

  “Yes.”

  “God, how many more?” She pressed her fingertips into her closed eyes and rubbed, her head shaking softly. “When I spoke to Kathy, she asked me why Sutton hadn’t raped me. Why he’d sent someone else to do his dirty work.” Her eyes watered. “I hadn’t considered it, but why didn’t he, Dayton? Why did I get off lightly, and yet these other girls—”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Got off lightly? Are you kidding? Jesus, Christa, you almost died and nearly lost Max. Not to mention you were disfigured, scarred for life. That’s not getting off lightly.” I pulled her into my arms. “Angel, where is this coming from?”

  She burrowed into my chest, almost as if she wanted to climb beneath my skin. “Maybe it was because we’d had a relationship, or maybe he just wanted me dead.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I hate this, Dayton. I hate it so much. I just want it to be over. But it won’t ever be over, will it?”

  “Yes, it will.” I kissed her hair. “We just have to dig in and keep going. Sooner or later that bastard is going to trip up. For all we know, Sunny could be the catalyst.”

  “That poor girl.” She lifted herself, looking me squarely in the eye. “When are we going to see her parents?”

  “Tomorrow. We’ll fly down in the morning.”

  She sighed, then rose from the chair. “Mrs. Connor has left a casserole in the fridge. I’ll heat it up, and after we’ve eaten, I think I’ll go to bed.”

  I watched as she crossed over to the kitchen. This was definitely having an impact on her. Every interaction with Atwood stole a little more of her resolve, and being without Max tore her up. I had to find a way to end this, and quickly.

  19