“For fuck’s sake, Liam! What hotel?”
Liam chuckles and tells me the name, then sobers. “There’s something else, too. Another reason for my call. My contact at the FBI says they’ve ID’d a body found in the woods by that motel. As insane as it sounds, it’s, um—I’m not sure how to say this…”
“It’s okay. I know who it is. Paul Kirkland.”
Thankfully, the words emerge with minimal pain. The sad fact is, I grieved my husband—and everything that wasn’t or might have been—two years ago. The Paul I met recently was a stranger with a familiar face. More than that, we were strangers to each other.
“So, erm…” He clears his throat. “I’ve got nothing to add.”
I laugh shortly. “Liam? Thank you. For finding me, alerting the authorities. For being a good friend to Dominic—”
“All right, that’s enough, yeah yeah, you’re welcome. And I had help with the heavy lifting. Just go save our boy from himself, okay?”
“Okay.”
Smiling, I replace the receiver.
“Was that the Irishman?” asks Paris.
I turn, finding her leaning against the fridge with a pint of ice cream and a spoon. “Yes. Liam.”
“Next time you talk to him, tell him Josh wants a word.”
My smile stretches. “Will do. He told me where Dominic is.”
“Good.” She pauses, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “Are you ever gonna tell Mom and Dad about what happened with Paul? Or contact Paul’s parents?”
I shake my head. “There’s been enough pain, don’t you think?”
She pops the spoon in her mouth and speaks around it, “Amen to that. Go get some sleep so you can go get your man.”
“So bossy.”
She grins. “What are big sisters for?”
53
The beauty of brokenness is it exists simultaneously with an opportunity to rebuild. To create newness, fight for happiness. To ultimately choose love over fear—which despite best intentions is easier said than done.
The first time I broke, I didn’t bother rebuilding. Didn’t want to or consider myself worthy or care to fight. Not until Dominic channeled and transformed my pain into something beautiful was I able to conceive life after the past. He freed me from my darkness.
Time to return the favor.
I’m up before dawn and out of the house by six-thirty, headed south on the 390 in my dad’s ancient Bronco. As much as I want to drive straight to Syracuse and yell sense into Dominic, I woke up knowing I needed to make a detour first. Partly for him, but mostly for me.
Five and a half hours later, I hand over my purse at the security checkpoint in the headquarters of Titan Securities in Fairfax, Virginia. When I’m cleared, I approach the sleek chrome counter. A polished older woman with a headset asks if I have an appointment.
“No, but I’d like to see David Cross, please.”
Her lips quirk downward. “Mr. Cross has no available appointments today.” She says it in a way that clearly implies or tomorrow, or ever.
Too bad for her, I was born stubborn. “I understand he’s a busy man, but will you call him and tell him London Limerick is here to see him?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but—”
“It’s all right, June,” says a woman behind me. “I’ll take care of this. Ms. Limerick?”
I immediately know who it is. Who it has to be. Why else would the cool female voice drip with contempt thinly veiled by politeness? Who else would recognize my name and be compelled to take care of it.
Ashley Cross is beautiful—perfectly manicured, highlighted, and dressed—but I expected as much. None of that means anything, because with one look I see the ugliness inside her.
She doesn’t offer a hand. Shocking.
“I can see you know who I am, Ms. Limerick.”
I nod. “Yes, hello. Is your husband available? I’d like a few words.”
Ashley smiles coolly. “Absolutely not.”
I frown. “I’m sorry? I’d like to thank him—”
“What about the word ‘No’ do you not understand?” She sniffs delicately. “You must be a terrible submissive.”
Calm radiates through me. Two steps forward bring me nearly nose-to-nose with Ashley. She doesn’t back down, but bullies rarely do. Not until someone makes them. She’s an inch taller, but I’m a thousand times the woman she is.
“Take me to David, or I talk to the press today.” Comprehension flashes in her eyes, followed by fear. “Clearly you’ve heard about your husband’s less-than-courageous performance in New Mexico.”
“Shut up,” she snarls.
“Mrs. Cross, is everything all right?” calls June.
She glares over my shoulder. “Tell David he has a VIP visitor coming up right now. Quit staring and do what I say.”
June snatches up a phone.
I follow Ashley’s clicking stilettos and swaying blond hair into a private elevator. The doors close behind us; she inserts a key, punches the top floor, and we begin to rise. Standing on opposite sides of the compartment, we watch the ticking lights over the doors and ignore each other. The silence is a blessing; I have nothing to say to her. Nothing positive, anyway, and I’ve had enough negativity to last me a lifetime.
Halfway up, my luck runs out.
“You almost got Dominic killed, you know. He spent four days in the ICU after those men attacked him. The family was distraught.”
I bite my tongue on asking why she cares—and why she’s lying. After blowing up his phone every day for a week, Liam finally told me what happened to Dominic. Three bullets hit the tactical vest he slapped on after I went down the fire escape, and the final bullet grazed his bicep. He spent a total of three hours in the hospital and six at the police precinct explaining why the loft was full of bullet holes.
Liam was baffled by the lack of bodies. I wasn’t. Leaders make hard choices, weigh odds and risks, and good leaders choose the option with the lowest body count. But I also know Dominic is beating himself up for the choice to let those men go. Even though he couldn’t have known I’d been captured, and might not have been able to stop all six men and find me before I was drugged and driven away.
What if are small words with crippling power. All too well, I understand the pain they bring to the heart and mind. The only cure I’ve found for regret is acceptance and, eventually, forgiveness. I’m not quite at the second one yet. Maybe someday. Maybe never. But I can give both to Dominic, at least until he can give them to himself.
Meeting Ashley’s frigid stare, I concede to the part of her statement that’s true. “I did put his life in danger, but I never wanted to involve him or anyone else.”
Her eyes—a darker green than mine—narrow accusingly. “Then why did you?”
I wonder what bothers her more—that Dominic put himself at risk for me, or that she doesn’t have control over his life anymore. Or maybe, just maybe, she carries her own demons of regret. The thought triggers a modicum of empathy. Enough to keep me from sinking to her level.
“Because he insisted on loving me and supporting me through it,” I answer honestly. “Because he’s a brave, humble, generous man who asked me to trust him. Because I love him, Ashley. All parts of him.”
Her lip curls. “Then you’re as sick as he is.”
I shrug. “If that’s what you think, I feel sorry for you.”
In my unflinching gaze, I let her see what I won’t say—we both know who landed the better brother.
As long as he lets me back in.
I shove the thought away. One problem at a time.
The elevator dings as it stops, the doors opening on a penthouse full of sprawling offices. With a sniff, Ashley strides out. I follow a few feet behind, looking around and trying to imagine Dominic here in a suit and tie with a phone at his ear. Maybe when we first met, but I can’t envision it now.
We finally reach the corner office. The biggest, of course. David—a slimmer, oilier version of his brothe
r—stands from behind his desk with an expression of forced welcome. He’s handsome, I’ll give him that, but he lacks the raw masculinity and magnetism of his brother. A used-car salesmen to Dominic’s tycoon.
“London, what an unexpected surprise. Darling, would you get us some coffee? Or, London, would you rather have something else? Tea? A cocktail?”
As he’s rambling, Ashley leaves the office and slams the door behind her. David and I stare at each other for a beat. His neck turns red, then his face.
“I apologize for my wife. It’s been a trying few months with… everything.”
I walk toward the massive desk he’s hiding behind, taking a seat in one of two club chairs. “Honestly, David, I don’t give a shit about Ashley. I’m here because I want to know why you were at the auction.”
He smooths his tie and sits, avoiding my gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean. Dominic is my brother—of course I wanted to help him.”
I shake my head. “Knowing your history, that’s doubtful but also beside the point. Rudolph Schultz kept tabs on me for months before he had me kidnapped. He knew exactly who Dominic was to me. Why on earth would he allow you—his brother—to be one of the bidders?”
David stiffens. “How should I know? My brother and I had a very public falling out and it was common knowledge we hadn’t spoken in years. I worked hard to convince Schultz of my interest, played up the bitter-sibling angle. I can only assume he was willing to take the risk based on my performance, and of course, the promise of my bank account.”
I smile benignly. In my former career, my colleagues knew this expression well. It meant I was about to spring my trap.
“Is that the story you shipped the FBI to keep them off your back? Because we both know it’s bullshit.”
David glances at the office door. “I think we’re done here.”
Still relaxed and smiling, I tap my chin thoughtfully. “You know what I think, David? I think it was in your best interests to make sure Schultz didn’t leave that auction alive, and that’s why you helped Dominic. Because you knew it was your only way to stay out of a prison cell.”
He scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you? Your name was on Rudy’s computer, wasn’t it?”
He jabs a button on his desk. “Security to my office. Now.”
I stand, laying my palms flat on his desk. In another life, I’d never have the balls to do this. But I’m changed. I know what I’m made of now. And I don’t give a shit how powerful this man thinks he is—I have more.
“Don’t you want to know how I figured it out?”
He doesn’t say anything, fingers clenched on the desk, brow furrowed in disdain.
“I spent a lot of time with Rudy Schultz. Despite the vileness he hid from me, I knew him, knew every nuance of his personality and voice. And that’s how I know he knew you. The way he said your name at the end. How he called you a traitor.”
“Bullshit.”
I shrug. “Sure, my opinion wouldn’t hold up in court, but you know what will? Proof you had someone at Titan hack into Rudy’s computer and delete evidence of your involvement in the sex-trafficking ring. How confident are you that your guy didn’t leave any trace?”
His pale face tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. A fist slams the intercom button so hard the panel beneath it cracks. “Security, if you’re not here in ten seconds, you’re fired!”
I lift my hands placatingly and back toward the door. “I’m leaving. Just one more thing—I have a few contacts left in mainstream media. If I ever see you darken Dominic’s doorstep asking for his help, or hear even a whisper of you or your darling wife badmouthing him, I’ll point the F.B.I. in your direction. And don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened in that warehouse, how you dumped me to save yourself. I have a lot of experience with smear campaigns, David. Let’s see how long you stay at Titan’s helm after I’m done with you.”
He stands, jaw rigid and lips pinched white. There’s dark, violent rage in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to threaten me, Ms. Limerick?”
He doesn’t scare me in the least.
My smile is slight and saccharine. “Is that what I’m doing?”
A voice behind me says, “Sounded more like a promise, little brother.”
The world pauses. Restarts.
I spin on my heels.
Dominic.
He stands in the doorway flanked by two men. I recognize them immediately as the soldiers who saved my life. The taller one—who carried me out of the warehouse on his shoulders—winks at me, then turns his attention to David.
“This woman bothering you?”
The other soldier discreetly rolls his eyes.
David blusters, “Took you long enough! Escort her from the premises immediately. Why the fuck are you here, Dominic? Is this… is she here because of you?”
“Nope. London does whatever she wants. I merely watch in awe.” Dominic’s gaze shifts to me, full of warmth and pride. “Any chance I can get a ride back to New York?”
Blinking back tears, I nod.
54
Dominic and I don’t speak much as he follows me to the Bronco. The space between us is crowded, thick with too many words, the absence of words, the electricity before a lightning strike.
He settles in the passenger seat without asking. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world for us to be here, now. Like it hasn’t been months since I’ve seen his face, like an ocean of pain hasn’t drifted between us, secrets kept and confessions unmade. So close, so far away, he watches me as I put the car in gear and head back to New York.
A thousand times, I open my mouth and close it, lightning on my tongue seeking air. I want our world to crack with it.
I want to understand.
Eventually, what comes out is, “How do those men stand working for your brother?”
His gaze shifts from the passing scenery. Not to my face but to the dash, where there’s a smorgasbord of jam-band stickers. Most are faded with age and peeling—Phish, Grateful Dead, Rolling Stones…
“I’d like to think it’s partly out of loyalty to me,” he says at length, “but more likely it’s because being personal security to my brother pays extremely well.”
His voice. His voice. It thickens the air in my lungs, drips down my spine, and finally curls, feline-like, around my heart.
The truth hits me—he’s here. Safe. Alive. And I’m never letting him out of my sight again.
“Eyes on the road, kitten.” Humor. Darkness.
“Dominic.”
My whisper is need and longing wrapped in half-healed grief.
“I know. I’d touch you if I didn’t think you’d crash the car.”
I sniffle-laugh, my fingers twitching on the wheel. “Still the arrogant ass I know and love.”
I expect laughter, or a quip, or anything besides the silence that greets me. When I glance across at him, he’s staring out the window. Furrowed brow. Tight lips.
Seconds from freaking out, I remember Liam’s words: He’s stuck on the idea he failed you.
The storm of fear and uncertainty passes. He’s here, and he’s mine. I’ll help him get past whatever’s holding him back. Just like he saved me, I’ll save him.
“Want to meet my parents?” I ask lightly.
Silence reigns for another few moments, but I can sense his barriers shifting, melting.
“I’d love to,” he says.
No words would have prepared Dominic for the full impact of my family, so I didn’t bother with any. I merely led him onto the porch, waited for the front door to swing open, and stood back, grinning, as he was engulfed in a three-way Limerick sandwich. Paris, at least, had the manners to hug him briefly. My parents didn’t let him go for a good five minutes, and then only to drag him to the living room.
An hour later, we’re finally left alone. The coffee table is littered with random appetizers and drinks no one touched but that Paris kept bringing out l
ike clockwork every fifteen minutes. Dominic hasn’t moved from his position in the center of the couch. He looks a bit shell-shocked and… lighter.
“Want to go for a walk?”
He jumps to his feet. “Fresh air sounds great.”
I chuckle, leading him into the foyer for our discarded coats. “Told you they were a riot.”
Dominic smiles in agreement, eyes sparkling. Without asking, I reach up and pull a thick beanie onto his head. His lips part in surprise, gaze scanning my features. Like he finally sees me. Finally believes this is real.
“You’re okay.” His voice cracks.
Eyes stinging with tears, I trace his jaw with my fingertips. “Fine, thanks to you.”
He swallows, the spark in his eyes dimming, barriers going up. I tap the end of his nose, then wrap one of my dad’s scarves around his neck. He watches me unmoving. Barely breathing. So beautiful. So afraid.
It’s hard, but I don’t smile.
“Come on.”
I grab his hand and tug him outside. The late afternoon sky is a washed-out denim, the air frigid. A line of clouds sits to the north.
“Supposed to snow later tonight,” I remark as we head down the front walk to the street.
“Is that right?” Teasing tone.
“Yep. Might be snowed-in tomorrow.”
“Hmm.”
“How’s the club doing?”
“No clue.”
“When are you heading back to L.A.?”
His fingers twitch in mine. “That depends.”
Glancing at him, I bite my lip on another smile. “On what?”
Dominic tugs me to a stop. His eyes—hesitant, conflicted—scan my face.
“London, I... Fuck. I don’t know how to do this.”
“It’s okay.” I step forward, nestling my head beneath his chin. When he doesn’t move, I grab his arms and pull them around me. “Hug, please.”
A pained laugh warms the top of my head. “There’s something you need to know, but I’m terrified it will change everything. That you won’t want to be with me anymore.”
Perfect Vision (The Vision Series Book 2) Page 20
