by Gemma James
Deep down, I didn’t expect him to admit it. He hadn’t become so successful over the years by giving away his secrets. He was shrewd and lethal.
But his eyes. They’d give him away. If you knew what to look for, the eyes rarely lied.
And I needed to know.
Rafe wanted me to wait, to move forward first, but what he didn’t understand was that I couldn’t marry him and be happy until I confronted my past.
My dad’s release from prison had tripped a wire in me, had awakened something I thought was dormant. Something urgent.
As I slipped from bed and tiptoed across the room to where I’d left a pair of shorts and a tee stacked on top of my duffle, I prayed for the continued sounds of Rafe’s deep, even breaths. Grabbing a hoodie to ward off the wee hour chill, I slipped my feet into my flip flops, then I headed for the bedroom door, careful not to let the soles of the shoes slap against my heels.
He would be so angry. Fucking furious. He’d left me unchained on good faith that I wouldn’t do anything stupid. But this wasn’t Rafe’s decision to make. Other than Zach, my dad was the only one I could go to about Mom.
Moving through the cabin as if I were an intruder, I grabbed my purse, along with Rafe’s key to the Jeep. He’d left it on an end table by the door. I reached for the knob, but Jax stirred on the couch, his light snores pausing for several heart-pounding moments. He turned over on the sofa, and a few seconds later, his snoring resumed.
I snuck out of the house with a light click of the front door as it closed behind me, and the soft pads of my feet hit the porch stairs. The sight of Jax’s truck brought me up short. If they didn’t awake until morning, I’d be in the clear.
But what if they did?
It would be too easy for Rafe to come after me if the truck were operational. He’d drag me back to the cabin, and my ankle would become best friends with that fucking shackle.
No.
Rafe didn’t understand why I needed to do this. No amount of pleading with him would change his mind. I had to do this, regardless of the risks. I entered the cabin and grabbed a knife from the kitchen before returning outside again.
As I stabbed all four of Jax’s tires, I almost expected to get caught. Fuck, my nerves were fried, but no one tore out the front door. No one’s feet stomped down the stairs. The birds weren’t even awake yet.
It was now or never.
I slid into the driver’s side of the Jeep, entered my dad’s Portland address into the GPS, then slowly backed out of the dirt driveway, the path dark without the aid of headlights, since I didn’t flip them on until I drove far enough away from the cabin. Over an hour later, I turned onto the main highway but had to stop for gas halfway to Portland.
I pulled out some of the money Rafe had given me from his last fight and paid for a strong coffee, a day-old pastry, and a fill-up. The irony didn’t escape me. He’d been generous with everything that came his way, and here I was, using it to betray him.
A twinge of guilt hit me as I returned to the highway, one hand wrapped around the steaming cup of coffee, the other on the leather-covered steering wheel. The pastry sat like lead in my gut the rest of the way to Portland. By the time I turned onto the street where I grew up, the sun had risen, and I was downright nauseous.
My dad’s large, circular driveway sat empty. Hitting the brake, I dug into my purse and found my keys. I hadn’t salvaged much of my previous life after we’d fled Shelton’s the night of the barn fire, other than a few changes of clothing, my birth certificate and identification card. And my keys; one of which was silver with a spot of red nail polish on it.
The key to my childhood home. The key to my past.
Appropriately smudged in the color of blood.
Some nasally sounding pop singer droned through the Jeep’s speakers as I stared at the front door. I could wait in the car until Dad returned, assuming he came back before I lost my nerve. Or I could swallow the lump of fear in my throat and try the key.
Decision made, I killed the ignition before pushing the driver’s side door open. The sun’s warm rays hit my skin, and it made me think of Rafe, sending me back in time to camp and how we’d gotten tangled up in each other under the sun.
I missed him already, though I wasn’t looking forward to facing him after running away in the middle of the night. Crossing the driveway to the covered porch of the De Luca estate, I glanced at my phone and winced at the number of missed calls and texts, all from Rafe.
Not wanting him to worry, I sent off a text that I was okay and would be back before dark, then I shut off my phone, stuck the key into the lock, and turned. My heart thumped out of tune as the lock clicked over, and the door swooshed open.
Over a year had passed since I’d set foot in this house. The memories rushed me all at once, like a flood of sorrow I couldn’t block. In the silent, dim foyer, I sank to the floor, depleted of strength, and drew my knees to my chest. As I envisioned Mom coming down the main staircase, her dark hair pulled back in an up-do that some would call regal, I ignored the pain leaking from my eyes as the past confronted me.
I was wrong.
I thought I’d been in control, the one in the driver’s seat as I careened down the road to my past. A girl on the offensive, armed with determination and enough ferocity to confront the ghosts that still haunted me in this place.
But the past beat me to the battlefield. The fucking past had set off the first bomb, and now I found myself hunched down in the destruction. My chest squeezed, and despite going through several rounds of breathing exercises, I still couldn’t pull in a full breath.
Rafe was right. I shouldn’t have come. Not now, and certainly not alone. Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for my phone and called him. He didn’t let me get a word in before he started going off on me.
“I’ve been so fucking worried! Do you have any idea how much trouble—?”
“I need you.”
Three simple words, strung together with haunting sorrow and desperation. With a pathetic twinge of weakness.
His breath hitched over the line. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this.” A sob burst from my throat. “I thought I could face him. I thought I needed to.”
“What did that fucker do to you?” he practically shouted the question.
“Nothing. He’s not here. I used my key to get in.” Darting my gaze around the front entrance, I took in the family photos on the wall—a warped illusion of joy and togetherness from when I was younger. From when my mom’s jasmine scent and her laughter filled the space between these walls. Now, the emptiness of the estate, and the coldness despite the ninety degree weather, hit me where it hurt the most. This house wasn’t a home.
“It’s just me. I’m so alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here.” But his voice was tight with fear, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing—how reckless I’d been by coming here. My dad was a dangerous man, and if he didn’t pose a big enough threat, Zach did.
No one knew where he’d gone. He could pop up at any moment, and here I was sitting alone and unprotected and bawling like a baby in the place where we’d grown up together. For all I knew, he could be lurking in the shadows.
I gulped at the thought.
“Rafe, I’m scared.”
“I want you to get the hell out of there as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” He was afraid for me—I heard it in the shakiness of his voice. And I’d left him helpless to help me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be sorry. Just get your goddamn ass out of that house!” His voice cracked. “Please, baby. For once in your life, do what I tell you to do.”
“Okay.” I rose on trembling legs and reached for the knob, hand shaking as I pushed the door open.
A tall silhouette ate up the sunlight filtering onto the porch. My knuckles went white around my cell.
“Alexandra?”
Raising my eyes, I let t
he phone drop to my side as I came face-to-face with the monster who raised me.
15. My Old Friend Fear - Rafe
Three beeps. Three innocuous tones. Three insignificant sounds that indicated a dropped call. They slammed into my chest, knocking the air from my lungs, stealing the strength from my legs. I collapsed into the chair in the living room and hit the callback button, but Alex’s cell went straight to voicemail.
I’d known it would.
Just as I knew she was in trouble, and there wasn’t shit I could do about it, stuck out here in the woods without transportation, because she’d made sure of it.
A shiver went through me as I recalled the last word she’d spoken before those dreaded three beeps.
Dad.
She wasn’t alone in that house after all, and the only thing that gave me hope was that it was her father and not Zach who’d caught her just as I was talking her into leaving.
Fuck. Why couldn’t she have called me two minutes earlier? She might be on her way back if she had.
“What’s going on?” Jax settled next to Angel on the couch across from me, two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. He handed one to Angel, and she blew on it before taking a tentative sip. The girl hadn’t said a word since we’d awoken at dawn and found Alex gone.
The Jeep missing.
Jax’s tires slashed.
Fucking hell, she’d pay for this.
“She was about to get the fuck out of Dodge, but her father showed up. Now her phone is going straight to voicemail.”
“You think he’d hurt her?”
“He’s never been known for protecting her.” The more I thought of the hell that man put her through over the years, the faster rage rushed through my veins. I’d lost count of the times I’d held her in my arms as she sobbed over her mother’s death, and her father’s possible hand in it.
I’d listened as she told me how that bastard had treated her in the hospital after Zach kidnapped her. Remembering made me thirst for retribution on her behalf. What kind of father turned a blind eye to the kind of sexual abuse Zach had unleashed on her for years? The man hadn’t just ignored it, which was bad enough, but he’d covered Zach’s tracks.
For a fucking decade.
Abbott De Luca was a slimeball, the type of man who’d had an innocent man thrown in jail to cover it up. The kind of guy who had fucked with his daughter’s head to keep her quiet.
The kind of man who would kill to protect his rapist son.
I jumped to my feet and began pacing, both hands tugging at the thick strands on top of my head. “I can’t just sit here.”
“She didn’t leave us with any other choice, man. She knew exactly what she was doing when she took off.” A frown mired his expression. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear her leave.”
“You and me both. After the way she reacted to the news, I should have known better.”
I should have known how desperate she was to confront her father, no matter how convincingly she’d promised not to bolt. I fucking knew her, damn it. Self-destruction filtered through her blood, and it would destroy us both if I didn’t do something about it.
“Why didn’t you keep her chained up?”
“I thought I’d given her enough time to rethink shit. I went too fucking soft on her.” Brushing my fingers across my belt buckle, I narrowed my eyes. “Trust me, it won’t happen again.”
She would come back to me, safe but appropriately ashamed for her actions. She fucking had to because I wouldn’t accept the alternative. And as soon as she came through that door, I’d have her sprawled out, ass up, awaiting atonement.
She wouldn’t dare fight me on this.
I tried her cell for the fifth time and got the dreaded voice recording. It took everything in my arsenal of self-control not to launch the phone across the room.
Anger was a given. She couldn’t pull these types of stunts without summoning the beast inside me, and holy hell, was he looking forward to getting his hands on her. But the terror winding around my throat…I didn’t know what to do with it. Probably because there was nothing I could do, other than keep trying her number.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and paced another round in the living room. “I fucking hate this. How could she do this to me?”
What a ridiculously rhetorical question. It bounced around my mind in accusing glory. Had she felt this lost and helpless when Jax told her I was dead? I’d assured her over the phone that she wasn’t alone. That I was here.
But that hadn’t always been the case.
I’d left her alone for six months. While I attempted to get my head screwed on straight, she’d dealt with her grief on her own. No family, no friends.
Only Jax’s occasional visits to check up on her.
I hated myself for that more than she knew.
“Sit down, man. You’re driving me nuts. If you think she’s in serious trouble, call the cops. At the very least, she can use the interruption to get the fuck outta there.”
I didn’t like that option, but short of finding a way to teleport my way to her, bringing the authorities into it was my only choice, regardless of the complications that might arise from calling the cops. But this was Alex, and the decision was a no-brainer.
With a deep sigh, I dialed 9-1-1 and hoped like hell their intervention wasn’t needed.
16. Cornered - Alex
I went from frozen scared in the doorway, my gaze locked with my dad’s, to somehow ending up in the kitchen, seated at the breakfast nook across from him with a cup of tea between my unsteady hands. I stared into the liquid—a light brown color from a splash of creamer. It was the way my mom had liked her tea.
“It’s good to see you,” Dad said. “I’ve been worried about you.”
He looked different. Harder around the edges. The additional lines on his face made him seem older. But the sharpness of his hazel eyes hadn’t diminished. He could talk nice and make fucking tea all day long, but it wouldn’t change who he was—the man who’d claimed me as his daughter but hadn’t protected me like a father should. The man who’d put his aspirations for Zach and business above loving me.
The man who killed my mom.
“Alexandra?” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Did you come here to stare at your old man all day?”
“No.” I hardened my jaw, debating on whether I should voice what was on my mind. But I hadn’t caused myself so much trouble to come here and not go through with it. “I came here to ask you a question.”
“Ask away,” he said with a wave of his hand.
Several beats passed, during which I had to swallow three times before I found my courage and my voice. “Did you kill Mom?”
His gaze remained steady on me, giving nothing away. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Zach told me you did it. He said it wasn’t a suicide.”
“Zach isn’t mentally sound. You shouldn’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth.” He paused, and his composure slipped back into place. “Have you seen your brother?”
“He’s not my brother.”
“Nonsense. I didn’t raise you like a step-child. Since when did you start allowing the logistics of DNA to get in the way of family?”
I would have asked if he were serious, but I knew he was. The incredulous arch of my brows gave away my indignation. “Since the day Zach started using me as his fuck toy.”
Dad remained silent. I remembered the poker parties he’d hosted when I was a kid. He’d made bank on those nights, and now I could see why. He had the perfect poker face; his expression revealing nothing, his mannerisms kept in check. He held his cards close to his chest.
But those eyes. I studied them, searching for a hint of what he was holding back. Had he seen Zach?
“Even if I had seen him,” I said, “the only place I would have sent him is jail.” Part of me wanted to draw back my caustic words. But it was too late.
I expected him to blow a gasket, voice a harsh bellow
as he insisted I drop the charges against his golden child so Zach could return home. After all, Dad’s first instinct had always been to defend Zach. But he wasn’t going to show his hand.
“He wrote me once while I was on the inside,” Dad said.
Smoothing my expression, I lifted the teacup to my lips and took a sip, feigning disinterest as I waited for him to continue.
“He said you were the reason he was still alive.”
“I didn’t do it for him.”
“He said as much.”
“Where was the letter post marked from?” I was pushing my luck with the question, but I didn’t care. Go big, or go home. I intended to do both.
A faint smile curved his lips. He almost looked handsome when he smiled, despite the receding hairline and gray peppered throughout his brown hair. “I won’t give you ammunition to ruin your brother’s life. It’s time to let it go, Alexandra. You’ve obviously moved on with Rafe. No one else needs to get hurt.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Is that a threat?”
“Of course not. I’m only stating a fact. This war between you and Zach has hurt you both.”
“Not just us,” I said, eyes burning with heartache. “Rafe lost eight years of his life because of our lie.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Did you know we were kidnapped last year?”
Dad shook his head.
“They held us underground for…shit, I don’t even know how many days it was. Lucas Perrone was behind it.”
For the first time since I’d seen Dad on the porch, he actually appeared rattled. “I read in the paper that someone torched his estate, busted an underground sex ring wide open.”
He didn’t ask the question, but I heard it in his tone—the careful way he spoke, implying that a puzzle piece had fallen into place, allowing him to read between the lines. Maybe he even realized that Lucas Perrone had been the reason for his arrest.
“Someone did a real number on Perrone.”
“Rafe will do anything to protect me.” I let that heavy statement sink in. Underneath it lay a threat.
