by Jayne Rylon
And might never be again.
Twelve
A week later, Archer sat on the dive platform, dangling his legs in the ocean as he stared at the waves rolling by. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, or slept, or taken a shower for that matter. Even finding the energy to dive was impossible.
He leaned forward, wondering how much farther he’d have to tilt before he slipped into the warm water and let it close over his head. It would be peaceful, he bet.
“Archie,” Banks called softly.
He didn’t bother to turn around or reply, annoyed that the promise of solace had been stolen from him. For now.
“We need to talk to you.” Tosin this time.
“Enough is enough, man.” Miguel was here, too.
Great. This was officially some sort of intervention.
He didn’t bother to acknowledge them. It would never be enough.
They hadn’t seen the devastation in Waverly’s gorgeous eyes. Like the ocean on a bright day overtaken by a violent summer storm. He’d done that to her. And more.
No telling what damage he’d done by letting her kiss him. He’d been totally insane to believe she could want him after he’d abused her trust so totally.
“Tell us what happened?” Banks asked, though Archer knew it was actually a demand disguised by politeness.
He still didn’t speak.
“You know, when the two of you vanished within days of each other, I actually thought she might have run off to be with you,” Banks confessed. “There was something between you, wasn’t there?”
“There might have been, eventually.” Archer shrugged.
Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Now that he had, though, he kept going. “I kissed her a few times. Followed her around, waiting for her to turn eighteen. Wanted to do a lot more.”
Had done a whole lot more, when she’d been unable to consent.
“Ah, but you never got the chance,” Banks said softly.
Archer let him think that.
“Anyway, her position here was the final one I had to fill. When her resume popped up in an online search of the top one hundred helicopter pilots in the world, I thought it was destiny. I knew she flew. I had kept tabs on her like you asked. Was aware she was making a life for herself. I just hadn’t realized how good she was until I started digging in.”
Archer nodded, completely unsurprised she was that successful at what she’d elected to do with her life. “You couldn’t have known. I’m certain my father went to great lengths to keep our relationship a secret. For various reasons.”
“Would you tell us more about whatever happened?” Tosin wondered as he sat next to Archer.
Miguel took the spot on his other side, then said, “We’re guessing it has something to do with that crap you were spouting. About why you hated your father.”
Banks sighed wearily as he sank into a deck chair. Glad he didn’t have to face the man as he confessed, Archer nodded. “It does.”
Maybe it would help to finally say it out loud to people who would actually listen. The one time he’d come clean, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. This would be a different kind of confession, one more about saving his soul than requesting justice be served.
No need to pretty it up.
Archer blurted out the truth: “I raped Waverly.”
He dropped his face in his hands, too mortified to face his friends and the man who was more of a father to him than the one who’d knocked up his mother. If he had any tears left, he probably would have bawled. As it was, sickness gnawed at his guts.
Instead of condemning him, Banks came closer. He must have crouched behind Archer because his palm landed on Archer’s back, lending him strength. “Archie, I have known you since you were three years old. There is no way you’re capable of something that vile.”
“Not intentionally. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t do it, though.” He had to make them understand. “She showed up at my door one night. I knew she’d just celebrated her birthday. Hell, I’d had the date circled on my calendar for months. Was trying to decide how to approach her. She hadn’t returned any of my calls or acknowledged the roses I sent her that day. So I figured she wasn’t interested. I didn’t know that she was occupied by her life falling apart.”
“And then she came to you.” Tosin smiled weakly. “I can picture her barging in with those brass balls of hers and taking what she wanted.”
“Waverly wasn’t really like that back then,” Banks corrected him. “She was sheltered. Timid. Never encouraged by her family to explore that side of herself.”
“A damn shame.” Miguel cursed. “You two are starting to make me think I was better off having no parents at all than people who held me back.”
He had no idea.
“Exactly, Banks.” Archer turned then to meet the man’s gaze briefly. “So I should have known something was up when she did exactly that.”
He remembered her tearing her clothes off before she’d even made it through his foyer. Feverish and refusing to wait even until they could make it upstairs to his bedroom, she’d jumped him.
“I’m not saying this excuses my actions, but when I think back on it—as I have over and over and over—it had to have been why I didn’t realize something was wrong. Remember James Trudhart?”
“Now, that kid was trouble,” Banks muttered. “I tried to keep him away from you. He was the son your father never had, that one.”
“Yeah, well, that night he’d brought over a bottle of some nasty liquor he’d stolen from his father’s bar. We put away a solid amount, considering neither of us were legal yet and had never drank more than a half a glass of wine at a time during some dinner party. After he’d barfed in the flowerbeds around the pool a few times, he gave up trying to polish it off with me and staggered home. I was still pretty hammered when Waverly practically kicked my door down.”
Now that he’d finally began to spill his guts, the guys let him keep going.
“Hell, I slept with her thinking she really was into me. That I was a sex god at nineteen, turning this virgin into the best kind of nymphomaniac. It was pretty much the highlight of my life—until way later, when I realized she hadn’t just fallen into a post-sex slumber. She was unresponsive. That’s when I sobered up the rest of the way. And figured out what had happened. Who was responsible.”
“Oh God,” Banks rasped. “Your father was involved, wasn’t he?”
“Yep, dear old dad drugged her. Or, more likely, had someone else do it for him. He told me all about the chemical later. It was fresh on the market, the early stages of something he wanted to invest in. They were calling it Sex Offender. Cute, huh?” Archer held his hands up, then let them drop to his thighs.
Useless.
“Why?” Tosin, who rarely lost his temper, sounded like he might punch something.
“For years, I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe he was setting me up. Getting dirt on me to keep me close and force me to do as he told. He wanted me to take over his business. I knew that wasn’t the path for me. We’d fought over it. A lot.”
“A lot,” Banks confirmed.
“So after I took Waverly to the hospital and made sure she was going to pull through, I thought I’d give him the biggest fucking middle finger of all time by rejecting everything he was. His money. To me it was dirty. I didn’t want any part of that. Instead, I thought I’d bring as much shame as possible to our family. I went to the police. Turned myself in.” Rage filled Archer as he realized how gullible he’d been about how the world really worked.
What’s right wasn’t what ruled.
Greed won. Every time. Even if it was corrupt as fuck.
“Archie, no.” Banks had worked for the man long enough to know where this was going.
“Yep, the officer I confessed to was on my dad’s payroll. He didn’t take a word of it onto the record and instead delivered me straight home, to my father.” Here’s where Archer started to
get angry all over again. “And even after all of that, I was still stupid enough to fall for his fast-talking diversions. I was so wrapped up in what I’d done and how much I hated him that I missed the bigger picture.”
“What do you mean by that?” Miguel asked for clarification.
“I thought he’d fucked me over to get me to settle down and be his bitch.” He huffed, his blood pressure skyrocketing until it was a miracle he didn’t keel over from a stroke right then and there. “After what Waverly told me the other day, about how her dad conned mine out of millions, I’m sure I know the truth now.”
“I think you’re right, son.” Banks sounded as miserable as Archer felt. Even from the grave, that demon had the power to destroy things. Hurt people.
“It wasn’t some kind of blackmail fodder. Or a diamond-studded leash. It was punishment.” Archer groaned. “He used me to hurt Waverly. And through me, her father. An agonizing blow for any dad who actually gave a shit about his kid. Hit ’im where he’s most vulnerable. How many times had he given me that bit of advice?”
“I gotta say, I was thinking you were kind of harsh with that hate business back at Windsock.” Miguel spit into the sea. “Now I see you weren’t ruthless enough. I hate the fuckwad, too. And everything he’s done to you. This is so messed up.”
“If it mattered anymore, I’d have the authorities reopen Waverly’s mother’s case, too. My guess is he did the same or worse to her.” Banks practically vibrated with fury. “Archie, I want you to try to see this my way, okay?”
He shrugged.
“What happened was a damn tragedy. Lots of innocent people got caught in the crossfire. Yourself included.”
“I’m not—”
“Be quiet until I’m finished.” Banks put some steel in his tone then, making Archer, Tosin, and Miguel whip around to look at him in unison. It might have been funny if things hadn’t been so damn serious. “Your father was ruthless. I admit, at first I stayed because he paid me well. Then I stayed because I loved you, and I thought I could be your advocate. In the end, I only stayed there as long as I did because I was helping the authorities build a case against him.”
“You were what?” Archer almost did go overboard then. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
Banks nodded. “It was worth every risk.”
“Damn, Banks. You’re the man.” Tosin said what Archer was thinking, and that was even before he processed the part where the guy had said he’d loved him.
Archer had to clear his throat before he could say, “Thank you.”
They stared at each other for a while.
Until Miguel asked, “Why didn’t the authorities crack down on Archer’s dad if he was as horrible as I suspect?”
“Every time we’d get close to nailing him for some shady thing or another, he’d weasel out of it. I couldn’t prove anything, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was up to.” Banks sighed. “I would bet everything I have that he was responsible for Waverly’s mother’s death. And I don’t doubt for a single second that his intention was not only to have Waverly’s innocence stolen. How bad was she when you got to the hospital?”
“Her heart stopped three times.” Archer did choke up then.
“Don’t you see? You saved her life, man,” Tosin grabbed him by the back of the neck and shook him as if trying to knock some sense into him.
Miguel agreed. “If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have gone on to be a badass helicopter pilot. You gave her a second chance. A better life where she got to become the person she should have been all along. I’m not trying to say it wasn’t horrible. And completely wrong. What happened to you both. But…you’re not thinking straight about this. About her.”
“You’ve got to go to her, Archer,” Banks encouraged while Tosin and Miguel nodded. “She should hear all of this from you. Besides, she’s holed up in some dump in Caracas and won’t let anyone near her. She hasn’t gone out for food or anything in days. I’m worried.”
Shit! He couldn’t let her suffer more because of him. Of course the bomb he’d dropped had shocked her, probably ripped off scabs and left her bleeding out.
Alone. In a foreign country. One that wasn’t especially safe.
Considering that he’d abandoned her while wounded once, he didn’t intend to fuck up like that again.
Archer climbed to his feet. “What’s the fastest way to get there?”
“We had the chopper flown back onboard with a temporary replacement pilot. Give me five minutes and you can be on your way.” Banks’s best efforts couldn’t squelch the panic bubbling up inside of Archer, now that he knew she might be in danger. “Captain Alex sent one of his officers to tail her. Not because we think she needs a babysitter or anything, but because she was upset—not thinking rationally—when she left. He can lead you to her when you get close.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Archer spun on his bare heel and headed for the stairs to the main deck.
“Yo, Archie!” Miguel called.
“Yeah?” He was tempted to spring back and hug the guys but was afraid he might lose his shit when he had something important to focus on.
“Make sure you bring our pilot back. I never did get that ride,” he finished with a smirk.
“Shithead,” Archer muttered, though he smiled the barest bit.
“We lurve you, too!” Tosin professed in a shout half the Caribbean had to have heard.
Thirteen
Waverly paced the dingy hotel room she’d been hiding in for a week. It wasn’t a very satisfying circuit since her room was half the size of her cabin onboard the Divemaster and nowhere near as clean. In fact, she tried really hard not to speculate about what had caused each of the mysterious stains on the worn avocado-green rug. Her imagination was far too good for that game. Blech.
Hey, it wasn’t like she had paused to consult TripAdvisor when she’d fled from Archer.
If she had been thinking rationally, things would have gone down differently. Any sort of logic had been impossible to muster in the face of the overwhelming reaction his claim had triggered. It had been emotional and primitive.
Unbearably painful.
Archer had achieved the impossible when he’d broken her heart all over again. She hadn’t realized there was that much left to smash. Apparently, some kernel of her puppy love had been hiding down deep in her chest. Maybe he was right. No amount of time would heal her entirely. Especially now.
That didn’t mean she planned to let this latest development shoot her down permanently.
Sure, she’d spent a solid day or two bawling her eyes out in between cursing him for making her break her no-tears edict. Then another few had been dedicated to nursing the mother of all headaches as she stared listlessly out the window at Caracas’s barrios. Today, though, she’d decided enough was enough.
She had to move forward.
Get the hell out of this shithole.
If only she could decide where it was that she should go.
Waverly shushed the totally whacked part of her brain that reminded her about how the Divemaster wasn’t so far away and that she had Banks’s direct number in her phone. As betrayed as she’d felt when those unthinkable words had passed Archer’s lips and blown up her world, something kept niggling her consciousness.
It could be the crazy recurring dream she’d been having. One that seemed too real to be entirely a product of her imagination. The fantasy confused her, though, because it didn’t mesh with what she now knew had happened. In the vision, she and Archer were young again and making love. Frantic, reckless sex. But definitely something mutually enjoyable. Very enjoyable.
How could her mind romanticize her own attacker?
Maybe she knew where to go after all, straight to her therapist’s waiting room.
Because trying to puzzle out how her subconscious could still so desperately want Archer that it manufactured pleasurable memories to cover up the awful ones…it made her feel like her own mind w
as violating her.
Or was it?
What if her dreams were actually rooted in memories she hadn’t been able to recall?
What if Archer had misrepresented what had happened?
Had she really understood what he’d said to her or why he would have bothered to rape her when she would have gladly slept with him of her own volition?
No.
Something wasn’t making sense, but she couldn’t work it out on her own.
As it had since the sun rose through her dirty window this morning, her brain attempted to reengage. She couldn’t quite force her thoughts to coalesce into whatever epiphany she felt brewing, but maybe that was because she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.
Or even a cup of tea to jumpstart herself.
Mmm, tea.
Promising her rumbling stomach she would do a better job of taking care of it today, she hoisted her suitcase onto the bed and began to gather her belongings.
She’d gotten about halfway there—she didn’t have much—when someone pounded on the door. “Privacidad, por favor.” She requested to be left alone, as she had every other time the maid came by to do what she could with the place.
“I have no idea what you just said. Open the door, would you?”
Archer! What the fuck was he doing here?
She stood staring incredulously at the entrance to the room when he started banging again. “Come on, Waverly. Please. I need to talk to you.”
Should she? Shouldn’t she?
While she debated, he thumped his fist on the flimsy barrier one time too many. The door ripped off one of its hinges and hung so she could see him through a wedge-shaped gap. His hand hovered in the air, mid-knock.
The shock on his face and the utter absurdity of the situation pushed her over the edge. She couldn’t take her eyes off his horrified expression while he glanced repeatedly between her and the busted door.
Then, together, they burst out laughing.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, eyeing her open suitcase and the fistful of dirty laundry she’d been about to stuff into the front pocket to segregate it from the few remaining clean items she had left.
