Savior (The Kingwood Duet Book 2)

by S. L. Scott

  Langley nods to Sara Jane, but Brown calls, “We still have questions for you, Sara Jane.”

  They’ve got some big fucking balls. I stop, holding my hand up to Sara Jane indicating to stay quiet. Looking back, my glare hits Brown. “Don’t you ever address my wife by anything other than her married name.”

  It’s quick, but I catch the hint of fear—his eyes squinting, his mouth gaping open like a fish in need of water. We turn and leave.

  I open the car door for Sara Jane and when she slips inside, I look back, met by two pairs of critical eyes. I flip them off before I get into the car, followed by Cruise slipping into the backseat.

  Silence befalls the car as we leave the lot. We cover two blocks before she says, “We’ve not talked about that day much. What happened.”

  It’s not a question, but it’s leading. “Do you want to? I thought you might not.”

  “It happened. As much as I wish it didn’t, it did, so maybe we should. Just get it all out, so we don’t have to another time.”

  I can’t bring myself to offer up much or to really kick this conversation off. “Okay.”

  “I know what happened. I know what you did.”

  I know what you did contaminates the air, so I roll down the window to freshen it.

  When I don’t say anything, she says, “He killed Chad. I would have done the same to that bastard.”

  Her gaze stays outside the window, the world whizzing by. “Jason won’t tell me why he was there or why he’s still here.”

  “I’ve asked him several times myself.” I keep the sarcasm to myself.

  Whipping around to face me, she asks, “You weren’t having him spy on me?”

  “No, I was. I just don’t know why he showed up when I did or why he stays.”

  “You were paying him?” Ooh, she’s pissed. My bad. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to admit that. “Ugh. How could you, Alexander?”

  As much as I want to protect her from everything bad, I’ve failed so far, so I need a new tactic. Since Cruise is remaining quiet, I’m going with the truth. “Because I was worried about you. You disappeared. You left everything behind. I thought you had been kidnapped until we saw tapes of you walking out of the building of your own free will.”

  “Yes, I left on purpose. I left to save what little sanity I had left at that time, but you couldn’t let me go—”

  “No. I couldn’t. Did you let me go? In your heart, did you let me go?”

  “No, but I tried. For a short time, I tried. It was useless. I knew it was temporary, but I had to. I needed a routine I didn’t have to think about, a life that wasn’t consuming me, a heart free from pain, a change of scenery that didn’t remind me of your father’s breath on my back.”

  “Did you have that while you were away, Sara Jane? Did you find what you were looking for? What you needed?”

  “No, Alexander. I didn’t. I lived simply, a quiet daily routine with a mindless job. I lived a life surrounded by people who didn’t ask me anything and didn’t dig into my past. None of that erased you from my thoughts or my heart. Not even temporarily giving me a reprieve.” She reaches over and covers my wrist while I hold the steering wheel. “But once I truly understood there’s no me without you and no you without me I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer.” Relaxing back, she adds, “Driving back, I felt alive again. I felt my heart beating in my chest, anxious to see you again. And then the blue sedan . . .” She takes a deep breath. I can’t imagine the fear she must have felt when she was forced off the road.

  Turning toward me, she asks, “If you knew where I was, why did you wait so long to come to me?” She composes herself to move past the horror. My God, she is strong.

  I blow out a breath and think before I speak. The answer is complicated, like my emotions over her leaving in the first place. “You saved yourself. But I was selfish and needed you, wanted you, so I gave in and went to see you. I didn’t find the girl I once knew.”

  Whispering as if dreading my response, she asks, “Who did you find?”

  “The woman I knew you always to be.”

  Touching my arm, she whispers, “Who am I, Alexander?” The queen—the female with power, destined to reign.

  “Stronger than you were, braver than you thought. You’re here and your scars make you even more beautiful.”

  I look out through the windshield ahead. The trees make a canopy, the stars hidden from view. Under her careful scrutiny, she angles toward me. “I’m yours. Till death do us part.”

  “What am I looking at?” Alone in the penthouse, I stare at the monitor, trying to decipher the medical record. Fuck. I call her number not really expecting her to answer. But she does.

  “What the hell do you want, King? I gave you the password.” Shelly sounds furious, but I’m determined to use that anger for good.

  “I need your help. Please.”

  She’s stewing. I can hear her breathing, but she acquiesces. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. Chad had April Dorset’s medical records. I need to know why. Can you see the file from the email on your computer?”

  “Yes. Whatever. I’ll look it up now.”

  After a few minutes, where I could practically feel her outrage through the computer, she answers, “If you go to the second page of the file, you’ll see that April gave birth when she was seventeen.”

  My dad was mid-twenties. The bastard. I figured she’d been young, but not that young. The thought of my father preying on a girl for his own entertainment disgusts me. The more I learn about him, the more I hate him, and I honestly didn’t think that was possible at this stage.

  She continues, “Alexander Kingwood the second is listed as her guardian in the medical file.”

  “The third.”

  “What?”

  “My father is Alexander Kingwood the third. Everyone confuses it.”

  “Look at page three. Don’t you think it’s odd it says the second?”

  “No. It happens all the time.”

  “I would think they would be more careful in medical files.”

  “If there are humans involved, there are mistakes to be made.”

  “Are you sure it’s a mistake?”

  “If it’s not, my family is more fucked-up than I thought possible.”

  “Everyone’s family is. Anyway, you aren’t your family, King.”

  I take a deep breath. “God, he took her at seventeen. What the hell?” Even I waited until Sara Jane was eighteen, and I loved her. Fuck. Why am I comparing the two of us? My life is so entangled with Sara Jane’s that sometimes I look in the mirror and I see her reflected back. You would think that would be enough to keep me from doing some of the shit that’s gone down.

  “Interesting how that struck a nerve with you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’re blinded by her innocence.”

  My laughter feels maniacal, but it’s soiled in disgust, an emotion I feel more often when thinking about my life. “I stole that a long time ago.”

  “I meant she’s naïve. She lives in her head, in this fantasy that you are actually good for her.”

  “She sees who I want to be for her.” God, my mind won’t stop spinning.

  “You’re not built that way. King is right. You’re meant to reign. Now that your father is gone, you are in power, but will that power destroy her like it did Chad?”

  “Her heart is strong. That’s all I need.”

  Her laughter rings out. “You’re both fools if you think you can survive each other.”

  “Shelly, what the fuck—?” She hangs up on me just as the front door opens and Cruise and Jason walk in, stopping when they see me in front of Chad’s computer swearing. Jason smirks. Asshole. I think about calling her back, but decide there’s no use. Fucking hell.

  “King?” But I can’t answer Cruise, not when the fucker Jason is looking at me like that.

  “Got a problem, Koster?” I ask, not taking his bullshit tonight.
<
br />   “Not a damn one,” he replies with a chuckle.

  “Apparently, you do.”

  “You know what? I don’t, but you do. Let me give you some advice. You should get a hold of your anger, or you’re going to lose everything and everyone that matters, including the one thing you’re fighting for in the first place.”

  “I didn’t start this for Sara Jane.”

  “But she should be the reason to end it.”

  “Why should I listen to you?”

  “Call my advice a courtesy, but your girl, she’s worth more than continuing whatever you’re doing.”

  “You don’t know anything—”

  “I know your anger has built to the point of combustion. I’m trying to remind you what’s on the line to lose.”

  “Mind your own fucking business.”

  With that cocky-ass grin on his face, he says, “I’m paid to mind yours these days.”

  “Why the hell are you still here?” Looking to Cruise, I ask, “Why the fuck is he still here?”

  Jason responds, “I don’t want to miss the show.”

  “Show?”

  “The one where you self-destruct, and I swoop in to save the girl.”

  I can’t say not over my dead body because that’s not outside the realm of possibility. I roll my eyes. This is bullshit.

  I’m not sure if Sara Jane is the reason he stays or if the money is the only thing he sees these days. But as he walks down the hall to his room, I ask the question I’ve always wondered, “Can I trust you, Koster?”

  “With your life.” The door slams behind him.

  I should go to bed, but my mind reels. How many more buried Kingwood secrets will I find? My grandfather was listed as April’s next of kin, which makes absolutely no sense. She must have meant my father, but something doesn’t sit right with this new detail.

  And thinking about what Koster said, his advice is solid. I don’t want to lose Sara Jane again. She trusts me to not hurt her. Lies do damage. I’m still pissed at Jason—he’s an asshole—but a guy I thought was my enemy just may turn out to be a friend and the ally I need.

  25

  Sara Jane

  Alexander is in deeper than I thought, and I don’t think I can pull him back from those depths. My anger makes me wonder if I should try. Thinking back to a conversation we had earlier, I meant what I said. His darkness doesn’t scare me. Neither does his temper . . .

  “My life for yours, Alexander, and yours for mine.”

  “This isn’t a fairy tale, Firefly. This may not end with a happily ever after.”

  “Not all fairy tales have a happy ending.”

  “We’re defined by the decisions we make when given options.” His anger gets the best of him and he roars, “Well you should get the happy ending, little girl.”

  He turns away from me and walks down the hall. Closing the door, I know he needs the quiet, needs to be alone, and needs space to think. When push comes to shove, he refuses to shove back when it comes to me. But I can handle the truth. I don’t need Prince Charming, a glass slipper, or a white horse. Those won’t save me from the depths I’ve fallen for him. Which is why I have to keep him present, his mind off the bad so he can see all the good that remains. I will be strong enough for the both of us. I will be his mighty Firefly.

  . . . I’ve packed a suitcase and filled two boxes at my apartment. There’s no need to continue paying rent for a place I never go to or stay at anymore. The manor may not be my idyllic place to live, but Alexander is all the shelter I need. Even if he’s currently mad, I know it won’t last. He’s not used to being challenged by anyone, much less me. That’s something he’ll have to get used to.

  I’m in the kitchen getting my favorite mug from the cabinet when the door opens. “Shelly?”

  Shelly scowls. “What the hell are you doing here?” The door slams behind her and she starts for her bedroom.

  Desperate to talk, to connect to my best friend, I ask, “I understand why you’re mad at me, but I don’t want to lose you.”

  She stops just outside her door, her head lowered, and sighs. I see the debate in her body language, the way she shifts as if she’s giving in to something she doesn’t want to, but does it anyway and turns around. “When you were warned by me and your parents that King was bad news, did you listen? No, you didn’t. If you had, Chad would still be alive. But it’s never about anyone but you, is it, Sara Jane? I think deep down you were playing the victim long before that attack. The one who was taken advantage of by the big bad wolf. I think you like people to believe you’re innocent. You’re not. Chad’s blood is all over your hands.”

  “Shelly. Stop.”

  “Stop?” She laughs, not amused. “Did you really tell me to stop?”

  “I’m asking you. Nicely. Please. Please don’t do this. We’ve both lost enough already.”

  Her raised voice startles me, “What have you lost? You’re the queen of fucking everything.”

  I’ve lost so much . . .

  My baby.

  Part of my liver.

  Chad.

  Almost my life.

  I can’t get into that now or I’ll break down. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about King. I’m talking about more money than you know what to spend it on. I’m talking that mansion, and everything you’re given while the rest of us made sacrifices.”

  “I’m sorry, but those sacrifices were not made for me. I understand you’re hurt—”

  “Do you? Because I don’t think you do, but I want you to. I want you to feel every ounce of pain I feel. You brought this plague on us. You brought the thunder and storms. Chad was a saint, and he died for you.”

  Tears well, but my pride keeps them from falling. “I’m sorry for that. More sorry than you’ll ever know . . .” I keep the memory of life leaving his eyes from her. I’ll forever feel that pain and guilt. His death is a scar I’ll always wear on my heart. “I didn’t ask him to come—”

  “You didn’t have to, but he went because that’s the kind of guy he was. He knew you needed help and he went.” She screams, “Leaving me alone forever.” She shoves me.

  My back hits the wall and my arms fly up defensively. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Or what? Who’s going to help you now?”

  “You will not cower nor cater to someone disrespecting you. Not now. Not ever.” Alexander’s words come back to me. “You know.”

  “Is that a threat, Sara Jane? Are you finally growing a spine?”

  “What is wrong with you?” Stepping away from the wall, I push past her. “Obviously, I’ve made a mistake coming here for you.”

  I make my way into my bedroom and close the door while she yells, “Clearly.”

  I’ll send someone to get my suitcase and boxes and to pack the rest. I need out of this place. I need away from her. I grab my purse and walk into the living room. Shelly stands in the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hands when I walk by. I know her well enough to know that’s not the first drink she’s had today. Her meanness is coming from somewhere, and I think she found it at the bottom of a bottle. I don’t blame her. I’d do the same if I was in her position, but I don’t have to accept it. “The apartment’s yours. I won’t be back.”

  “What about rent?”

  I stop with my hand on the doorknob, and look back. “Alexander will cover the full rent for the remainder of our lease. It’s the least we can do to help.”

  She scoffs. “Yeah, the least.”

  This time I don’t respond. I leave. It’s hard to see a friendship die, especially one I thought could survive anything. It’s been put to the test, and we failed. Just outside the front door, I turn and look back at the place I called home for years.

  The door doesn’t open. Shelly doesn’t come after me. No apologies are made. Our friendship is severed for good. My gut twists and my heart aches. Chad is gone. And now Shelly.

  I still have Alexander. Maybe he’s all I need in li
fe. Maybe that’s the right he always had when he claimed my soul as his.

  I get into the car and start the engine. Peering through the windshield, I look at the window to the apartment. Shelly stands in clear view, her eyes burning with hatred.

  Alexander wanted me to have a life and friends outside of him. I did, but now they’re gone. If this is what friends do to each other, I want no part of it. Why does everyone turn on you eventually? Is this a part of growing up or moving on?

  Or is this a side effect of being with a Kingwood?

  26

  Alexander

  The manor is dark for the most part with only a few lamps on the far side of the large room left on. The staff is gone for the day.

  “Sara Jane?” The name falls on an empty house, my voice echoing. With my arms up, I close my eyes, and call to the heavens wanting my angel, “Where art thou, sweet Sara Jane?”

  “Alexander?”

  Not the voice I wanted to hear.

  I drop my arms in defeat and look to the top of the stairs.

  April leans against the railing. “Are you all right?”

  “No. I’m not.” I walk to the bar under the staircase. As I fill a glass with my father’s finest, I hear her footfalls as she comes down. “I don’t want to talk,” I caution. The couch looks mighty comfortable right now, so I fall back, the amber liquid sloshing over the side and droplets dotting my shirt.

  “Are you drunk?”

  Holding my glass up, I laugh. “First drink, mother dearest.”

  “You’re being rude.”

  “I’m being me. If you don’t like it, get out.”

  “Alexander!”

  “Oh stop with the delicate sensibilities.” I polish off the drink and set the crystal glass on the table. Resting forward on my legs, I stare at her as she sits across from me. She looks tired, like the recovering addict she is. With no makeup on, the black circles under her eyes are darker, her cheeks more hollow, but at least her eyes are clear. She’s not using drugs, but is she using me? “Why do you dislike Sara Jane?”

  “What? Is that what she told you?” She sighs, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her robe. “Alex—”