Her entire life, she'd wanted to be a ballerina. She'd wanted it enough to make it her entire life. And then Marc ripped it away from her, and she'd been lost. She couldn't dance, she couldn't walk straight, and, as she'd learned painfully last night, she couldn't even save herself. She'd had the things she'd wanted most and lost them all, leaving her with nothing but the reverberating taunts from her peers that she wasn't good enough, beautiful enough, deserving enough.
And then there Tristan was with all of his perfection and talent, giving her so much more than she thought she deserved. And there she was with a scar on her leg, a rod in her bone, and a limp she couldn't hide. He didn't make her feel inadequate. She already felt that way. Even now, when she should know better, she still felt inadequate. Taking his words personally and reading more into them than he meant when he said things like she was just a ballerina was so easy…because she still felt that way. Inferior. Not good enough.
He was larger than life to her—compassionate, sexy as sin, talented, selfless, commanding, and powerful—so many different things that awed her. He made her feel beautiful, hopeful, but he couldn't make her feel like she was good enough, strong enough, or deserving enough. And he'd tried to make her see it. God, he'd tried to convince her. Every time he touched her, or made love to her, he'd tried. You're beautiful. You're perfect. You're so fucking brave. So many different ways he'd tried to show her, to tell her.
But she had to believe it herself, too. And she couldn't really believe that he could see her as deserving, as his equal, when she couldn't see it herself. And thus far, she hadn't been able to see it. She'd come close, but at the first obstacle today, she'd buckled. She'd let herself believe all over again that she was just a ballerina. She'd let herself believe that he believed it, too.
Was she still a ballerina?
Did she even want that anymore?
If she could choose tomorrow to dance again, would she?
She didn't know, but she was absolutely certain of one thing: If she had to choose between dancing and what she felt for Tristan, she'd choose him every time. She'd always choose him. So why was she running now?
She knew that answer, too. She was hurt, angry, and he made no sense to her. He'd shut her out, lied to her, and it bothered her. Even if he did view her as an equal, as someone who could take care of herself, he'd made this decision without her and that hurt. She felt as if…she wasn't sure how to put it honestly. She'd told him so many times how much it bothered her to have her right to decide taken away from her.
He knew that, but he'd still made this choice for her anyway. And when he said things like you're just a ballerina, believing he really felt that way was so easy because she didn't know who she was. She hadn't known in a year. But this wasn't only about her, was it? This was about him and his issues as much as it was about her and her issues.
He'd lost his parents in the worst way imaginable. He'd seen things that still haunted him, done things that tormented him. Just as she saw and processed things through the filter of her own experiences, so did he. And his experiences told him that he'd get her hurt like he thought he'd gotten his parents killed. She could understand why he felt that way, but she didn't agree. He was a fighter, a cop. Whether he worked for the DEA or for someone else, his life would always be dangerous in some way. He couldn't send her away every time something went wrong or he got scared. And she couldn't let him.
Going away wouldn't solve their problems. It wouldn't show him that he could do this without her getting caught in the crossfire. And it wouldn't prove to herself that she was enough for someone like him.
"Hey, Dad?" she called, her decision made. She couldn't go back to Oregon with him. She couldn't leave without telling Tristan how she felt.
"Yeah?" He appeared in the doorway a few minutes later.
"You know I love you, right?" She turned to him, biting her bottom lip.
"I knew I was going to regret telling you the truth," her dad sighed. "I knew it."
An hour after beginning his search, Tristan found what he was looking for tucked away in hip-high weeds behind the back of an abandoned warehouse: an old storm drain that probably hadn't been used since the district went defunct two years before. The drain was in the perfect location—within walking distance of the club, but far enough away that no one would even consider that it might open up beneath Teplo. It was hidden from view behind a warehouse, and in an area where no one paid any attention to who came and went or what they did while there.
No one would ever even notice the drain. Hell, he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been actively searching for exactly that sort of thing. The opening appeared almost like an outdoor entrance to the warehouse, and was well hidden. Until you noticed the inexplicable army of tire-tracks and footprints, anyway. And the dried blood splatters. There weren't many of them, but Tristan a puddle wasn't necessary for Forensics to work their magic. The drip trail was obvious.
He snapped a series of photographs before slipping the camera into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He'd told Jason he wasn't giving him three days, but he wasn't stupid enough to go in without back up, either.
He wanted to. God, he wanted to so fucking badly, he wasn't sure how he kept himself from doing it. But if this was their access point—and the blood stains made him certain he wasn't wrong on that point—he couldn't risk it. He'd made a promise to Lillian he had no intention of breaking. He wasn't going to get himself killed doing this, and going in there alone would be suicide.
He flipped the phone open, his hand hovering over the power button.
A polite cough from across the lot stalled him in his tracks.
"Tristan didn't show," Davis stated, looking around as everyone filed out of the War Room with their marching orders in hand.
"No, sir," Jason said.
"And Kincaid?"
"At the club still, sir." Jason hadn't been able to avoid filling Davis in on Tristan's AWOL status. He needed to know where Kincaid was and why in case anything went wrong. He'd been surprisingly calm about the news. Jason suspected that was because they were finally closing in. A few more hours and they were done. Anton, Paulo, and every guard in the place would be in jail. Manufacturing, distribution, suspicion of murder, racketeering, conspiracy to commit kidnapping. Even if they couldn't find evidence to support the murder charges, RICO applied now that they could prove Francisco had his people stationed inside Teplo. Vetrov wasn't walking away. Jason almost wanted to thank the bastard for ordering Lillian's kidnapping since it had ensured his downfall. Almost.
"No word on Riley?"
"His cell is off and the Rover is still at the penthouse." The Viper was missing though. And that did them no good at all if he had gone after Vetrov. The Viper wasn't Lo-Jacked.
"Son of a bitch," Davis swore. "You found that other entrance yet?"
"Simon and his team were going through the maps when I left them." There were three different types of sewer installations in this city and they were all mapped out. D.P.W. didn't have them available online yet and Simon had spent half the day trying to find someone to bring the damn things over. Jason had no clue if they'd find what they were looking for yet, but he was positive it was there. Malachi sure as hell hadn't been trying to get Lillian into that storage room.
If they had the manpower, he'd have every agent he could find out there combing the area, but that wasn't possible. There were access entrances everywhere in this city. If Vetrov noticed an army prowling through the area looking for something, the jig would be up. Any time they'd managed to secure by keeping DEA involvement out of Malachi's arrest would be gone, and they really needed time to ensure they wiped out Vetrov's supply.
He just didn't know how much they had.
"Do you want me to pull Tristan off this case or not, Ames?" Davis asked. "It's your call."
"Does it matter at this point, sir? If we don't get the arrest warrants soon, he's going in with or without approval. Whether you pull him from this case now or wa
it until it's over and deal with him then, he's still going in there. We both knew threatening him wouldn't slow him down any to begin with." It'd been worth a shot though. Fruitless attempt, of course, and Tristan would likely be losing his badge when this was over, but he doubted Tristan gave anything resembling a fuck about that.
Where the hell was he?
Jason didn’t like that he hadn't shown up at Teplo yet. He'd suspected Kincaid to call as soon as the debriefing started to tell him that Tristan was there already. Instead, Kincaid had checked in twice to inform him that Tristan was MIA, but that Lillian had returned to her house with an older man.
"True," Davis said. "Hell. Remind me why we used Miss Maddox last night?"
"It made more sense than trying to get one of ours prepped to go in. Vetrov's people were jumpy enough already." The justification sounded thin even to him. Didn't make it any less true though. Lillian had already been in the club, knew the guards, the atmosphere, and what to watch for. She had a believable excuse for being there since Tristan had her marched off in handcuffs on phony drug charges, an eye for detail, and Jason had known full well she wasn't going to sit by and do nothing. He'd seen the look in her eyes as he sat across from her at the dinner table. She was as stubborn and bullheaded as Tristan.
"She had a team to back her up. The risk was minimal," he finished. It had been safer to send her in when they could protect her than to risk her trying to do it on her own. If Malachi really had been waiting for a chance to grab her, her slipping in without them watching over her would have ended in utter disaster. And she would have tried it sooner or later.
Christ, she and Tristan really were a match made in heaven.
And God save the world from the both of them if Tristan still had a badge once this was all over.
"Right," Davis sighed. "It always is until it isn't. Does her father know?"
"I believe so." He couldn't think of anyone else Tristan would trust with her safety.
"Is he going to give us a problem?"
"Doubtful. His daughter can be very persuasive."
She'd already worked more than a few miracles where Tristan was concerned, and he was impossible. If she could soften him as much as she had in a matter of weeks, there was no way she wouldn't be able to do the same for Mayor Daniel Maddox who, by everything Jason had been able to discern about him, was known to be a reasonable man with a deep love for his only child. Still…
"I'll assume any and all responsibility should it be necessary, sir."
No one on his team would take heat for any of this. He'd made the decision to involve Lillian. He'd been the one to demand she not tell her father. He'd made the decision to get her involved further last night. Any consequences fell on his shoulders, no one else's. He hadn't even given Tristan much of a choice.
"I'd like to have a chat with this little ballerina," Davis mused, temporarily ignoring that particular elephant. "She's got everyone in an uproar." He shook his head in amusement. "I'd almost feel sorry for Riley if he weren't such a pain in my ass. I'm looking forward to the day he isn't my fucking problem anymore."
"Me too, sir." Jason was too tired to feel sorry for his friend today. It was about time someone else had a try at keeping his ass in line. As soon as this was over, he intended to hand that honor over to Lillian with a smile on his face. Hell, he'd even do a jig once Tristan hit the door. They just had to find the pain in the ass first and convince him to wait. Three hours. He just had to wait three fucking hours.
"I'll do what I can, Ames," Davis finally said, "but I can't make you any promises. This is a clusterfuck and if it doesn't end well, all hell will break loose."
"I understand, sir." And he did understand, more than he could say. He'd weighed the risks and made a decision for the sake of the case, knowing full well that it could get ugly. He wouldn't walk away from that unscathed. He'd never really expected that he would anyway. Sometimes, you did what you had to do and took what came.
"I'm going to check on the arrest warrants. I'll let you know as soon as they're in hand." Davis slapped him on the back and headed out.
Jason watched him go, wondering when the hell Davis had become the back-slapping type.
Right.
Three weeks, five days ago. Right after he'd tracked Lillian down in the emergency room and his job had become a nightmare of his own making. He sighed and closed his eyes.
Where the hell was Tristan?
"Dad, I'll be fine," Lillian told her father for the tenth time.
"I don't like leaving you here alone," he grumbled. "It's not safe."
"Tristan will be back from the meeting soon. Besides, the penthouse has a security alarm, a security guard downstairs, and a deadbolt," she pointed out…also for the tenth time. "Go, I'll be fine."
He stared at her, frowning.
"Daddy!" She scowled at him. "I'm not a little girl anymore. You can't sit in my room and protect me from monsters in the closet like you used to do."
His expression softened. "You remember that?"
A smile twitched at her lips, a little laugh escaping. "Of course I remember. Every time I got scared, you'd settle down in that rocker on guard duty until I fell asleep. How could I forget?"
"You were a baby. God, you couldn't have been more than four." He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You've always been there when I needed you." She was going to miss him when he left. Five hours away was too far sometimes. And not far enough others. "But I'm not a little girl anymore, and you guys have to stop trying to make decisions for me. I can take care of myself."
He didn't seem wholly convinced.
She rolled her eyes. "He'll help take care of me, Dad."
"He'd better." Her dad huffed when he said it, but he pulled her in for a hug and she knew she had won this round. "I miss you, Lily."
"I miss you, too."
"Come visit soon. You can even bring him with you. Does he fish?"
"I'm sure you could talk him into giving it a try." She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. He hadn't said Tristan's name once all afternoon, instead opting to use him or that boy. At least her dad didn't hate him though, because he would to be around for a long while if she had her way. And as the afternoon wore on, she was more and more determined to have her way.
They had a lot to sort out between them, true enough, but they had just as much—more—to fight for. After the last few days, she felt as if she were in a whirlwind. So much had happened in so many different ways. Keeping up was hard. Thinking straight was impossible when events kept racing away. And they were definitely racing.
After everything, she was allowed to be vulnerable, wasn't she? She was allowed to get hurt, be afraid, and become overwhelmed. And really, who wouldn't with someone like Tristan taking command? He was…God, he was so many things. Fierce and intense and exactly like the addiction she'd called him before. She knew he loved her, but sometimes that didn't make it any easier to understand him.
"I love you, kid," her dad said.
"I love you too." She hugged him tight and then stepped back to let him go.
"Lock the door. Arm the alarm. Don't open it unless it's him. Clear?"
"As a crystal," she promised.
"You have your gun?"
"It's in the kitchen."
"Good. Go get it, and don't let it out of your sight until he gets here." He leaned over and kissed her atop the head. "At least he had the sense to get you a gun."
"Dad!"
"I'm just saying!" He held up his hands.
"Go," she demanded, equal parts amused and frustrated.
"I'm going, I'm going. Yeesh." He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. "You're sure you'll be okay? I can stay and wait for him with you."
"I'll be fine, Dad."
He sighed his defeat and then nodded. "Don't give him too much hell," he advised. "He looked miserable when you walked out today."
"I know," she whispered. She'd seen his expression before she turn
ed away.
"If he ever hurts you…."
"He won't," she promised him. "But if he does, you'll be the first to know. I'm really sorry you had to find out the truth like this, Daddy. I never wanted to keep it from you."
"I know that, kiddo. But next time—please God, don't let there be a next time—give an old man a little warning before you go mixing yourself up in this kind of thing. I worry about you. To me, you'll always be that little girl afraid of monsters, but I'm not unreasonable, you know. You can talk to me about things."
"I know, but I didn't want you to worry about me anymore. You've already done so much for me this year."
"It's my job to worry." He sighed, frowning. "And I guess it's now that boy's job, too."
Lillian reached out and patted his hand. "He's not that bad, Daddy."
"No," he sighed, disheartened. "I don't suppose he is. Don't tell him I said that though. He still has groveling to do. A whole lot of it." He snorted and shook his head before getting back to business. "Be safe, kiddo. I mean it. And you call me if you need me to come back here, understand?"
"I will. Promise." She hugged him a final time and as quickly as he'd arrived, he was gone. She couldn't even really be upset with Tristan for calling him. She'd missed him so much, and she did understand why Tristan had called him. She might not like it, but she understood.
She set the alarm, threw the deadbolt, and eased herself down onto the couch, thinking about all the things she wanted to say to Tristan. If he sent her away after that, well, at least she'd said what she needed to say. At least she hadn't just given up.
Closing her eyes, she sighed, more exhausted than she'd been in a long time.
She jolted awake when her cell phone rang.
"Hello?" she mumbled as she fished it out of her pocket, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Miss Maddox, this is Jason."
"I know, and it's Lillian, Jason. Just Lillian. What's going on?" she asked, the tone of his voice instantly bringing her wide awake. "Is Tristan okay?"
Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2) Page 26
