Adrian’s arm weighed her down, and when she tried to move forward, he pulled her in closer. Danny swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting of tears. With his tousled dark hair and long lashes, he looked like painted perfection. The slope of his jaw, the olive skin she’d licked and sucked last night, and the salt and cedar scent of him made her heart ache. Around him, she felt safe in a way she’d forgotten existed. Like the constant vigilance and shifting shadows didn’t matter.
He couldn’t go out there risking his life with her today. He didn’t know what her father was capable of—not the way she did. If Adrian got hurt out there, he had so much more to lose—patients he could save at the hospital and family members who relied on him, whereas she might just leave behind withering plants. Bringing him along wasn’t just risky but selfish.
Danny slipped out from beneath his arm, and he stirred for a moment, reaching out for her. She placed a pillow between his arms instead, and he settled down, his steady breathing a tip off. The idea of facing her father alone terrified her more than jumping off a plane with no parachute, but if it meant keeping Adrian safe? She would do it. Not for the first time, she wished she could be Danny Reynolds, a simple gardener who moved into town for a fresh start. Not Sam Peterson with the fucked-up past threatening to pull her under like quicksand.
Obi-Wan stirred from sleeping on the edge of the bed, and those moon-eyes blinked open as he let out a low yowl. Her heart squeezed tight at the sight of the little guy she’d already started growing attached to, the one who’d insisted on curling at her feet tonight.
She grabbed her clothes from the floor, donning her jeans and t-shirt like armor. With the familiar weight of her pistol, pepper spray, and her knife, she felt steadier on her feet even if resolve was hard to come by. Kyle Peterson was smarter, more ruthless, and had years of experience to back him. In a one-on-one fight, she didn’t stand a chance at beating him.
However, her goal had never been to defeat him in a fight. This time, she aimed higher. Even if she sacrificed herself in the process and her father achieved his goal of crossing her name off his list, he wouldn’t be able to escape the Feds again. Not while she used herself as distraction.
She grabbed her phone from the nightstand—she might not have Bella at the moment, but she could always snag an Uber. At this point, the Feds would be looking not only for her father but her as well. Her throat dried as she glanced to where Adrian slept. He would be furious with her in the morning when he woke up, but after the perfect night they’d spent together, she couldn’t bear something happening to him. The strength he showed in letting her make the calls was one she couldn’t emulate when it came to her father and his growing body count.
The steps let out a light creak that echoed through the house, which was stained by the subterranean hues of early morning. Her palm skated along the railing, as if she could leave a part of her behind in this place, some sign she’d existed.
Danny walked toward the door, the feeling like she’d forgotten her wallet lingering, even if it sat in the same pocket as earlier. Unsurprising, since she prepared to leave Adrian behind. Her throat tightened. God, she was so tired of running. Always running.
Her hand rested on the knob, the shock of cold fitting.
“Were you just going to walk out?” a voice came from the steps.
Danny froze.
“After everything we talked about and everything we agreed on, you’d leave me in the dark?” The accusation in his voice slayed her, and she couldn’t bear to turn around and see the hurt shining in his eyes.
Danny sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to face him. The steps creaked as he continued down the steps. In nothing but a loose pair of pajama pants, he was so fucking hot, but she knew better than to try and distract him right now. His gaze bled with anger, and his mouth formed a thin line as he approached. Guilt washed over her in such a fierce wave she could barely stand.
“Yeah, I was running.” She forced the words out.
“Was everything you told me a lie?” he asked, his voice cracking. “What happened to staking your claim?”
“Honestly?” she said, looping her thumbs into her pockets. “My feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest, and that’s what terrifies me. Adrian, you have no idea what this man is capable of. What it’s like to know Jeffery freakin’ Dahmer read you bedtime stories.”
“So what makes you think you can take on someone that dangerous by your lonesome?” he accused, crossing the space between them. She opened her mouth, but no words tumbled out. In the silence, clarity descended in his gaze. “You don’t expect to return.”
He reached forward and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight in his own. Even still, his eyes flashed like lightning. “You know what? Fuck you. Checking out, running away, that’s not how you fight for the people you love.”
Danny shook her head, squeezing his hands back. She hated this. She hated the guilt that made her want to scrub her skin raw every time she remembered who she was related to. “He’s my father, Adrian. My father. If anyone should’ve stopped him, it should’ve been me. All the lost lives…they weigh on me every damn day.”
A storm churned in his eyes. This was it. He’d order her out the door and she’d leave tomorrow to face her father, knowing not a soul in the world cared if she lived or died.
Adrian wrapped his arm around her and drew her in tight. Her cheek pressed against his chest as he rested his chin on her head. The possessive, tender motion caused tears to escape her, splashing onto his bare skin.
“You had a fucked-up family,” he murmured, his tight grip around her the one thing keeping her upright.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” She offered a watery laugh, unable to believe the levels of patience and understanding this man exhibited. Danny sucked in another shaky breath before continuing. “I do know I promised you’d be with me. I know I violated your trust in trying to leave, and I’m sorry. When I think about the man responsible for ruining my life and so many others and remember we share the same DNA, I can’t separate the guilt. It makes me so sick with him, with myself, and with the world that I can barely breathe.”
“You aren’t him,” Adrian said, as if separating the two could be so simple. “You told me you left Samantha Peterson behind, so you’re Danny Reynolds, right? And you agreed to make your own destiny, not let the past rule yours. I get you haven’t had family and friends to fight for, the type who stick around even through hard times. I know you’re running on the sort of guilt and fear cocktail that would cripple anyone. But I’m asking you here and now to trust me enough to stand by your side tomorrow.”
Her eyes burned with fresh tears. She was so tired of crying, but all the doors she thought sealed, he pried open. She sank into his embrace, those strong arms around her keeping her standing. All this time, she’d only ever known running, the impulse ingrained in her. This staying to fight thing breached into new territory, and she had so much to learn.
Faced with Adrian’s question, her answer grew clear. No matter how many doubts circulated in her head and no matter how much she wanted to protect him from the family monster, she trusted him. Just like Adrian showed his trust by sitting in the passenger seat on this one, she needed to trust him enough to stand by her side. No matter how much the memories of Kyle Peterson numbed her brain.
Danny curled her hands into fists on his chest as she leaned up to meet his gaze. “We’re in this together,” she said, her tone weighted with intent. “I promise.”
“Let’s go back to bed,” he said, wrapping his hand over one of her fists. She relaxed her hand to slip into his and let him lead her to the bedroom. She might not get any more sleep tonight, but her newfound resolve gave her enough impetus to fight her fear.
***
The sun streamed in through the windows, birds chirped, and the sky was the brazen blue that brought dreams to life. Perfect day for a confrontation.
Adrian drove, turning the volume of whatever classical musi
c blared from his speakers along the way, since they both brimmed with unspoken tension.
“I can’t believe my final battle music is Beethoven,” Danny muttered.
Adrian shot her a sidelong glance. “It’s Bach. And it’s classic for a reason.”
“Classic cause it’s stale as five-day old toast,” she fired back as she got comfortable in her seat.
Danny glanced to her phone for the thousandth time this morning to see the blank screen again. Ever since the call from the Feds yesterday she’d kept her phone shut off, not wanting to watch the calls from her handlers stack up or risk them tracking her. She skimmed her finger along her waistband on instinct, but her pistol wasn’t there. The plan consisted of getting her father to show up in close quarters, which was where Adrian came in. He’d be waiting in the corner of the building with her pistol aimed.
Her nerves buzzed like a live chainsaw, and she’d been tapping on the side of the car from the moment they took off toward Cambria Creamery. The buildings of Eastside cropped into view, more rowhomes and small ranchers filtering along the wide streets. Black tupelos stretched to the horizon, their leaves out in full on this sunny spring day. Magenta blooms sprouted off azaleas clustering around the front yards of half the houses on this stretch.
Her heart twisted like a sopping rag. She loved this calm and easy city with its gorgeous blooms, the crash of the sea in the near distance, and the charming sideways houses lining the main sprawl. She loved Adrian Dukas with an intensity that threatened to burn her alive.
Danny had been running ever since she stumbled upon the secret room, but here and today, she would fight.
She would confront the demon wearing her father’s face.
At the end of the block stood the faded sign for Cambria Creamery, the once-crimson shade turned to a pale pink and the letters barely visible. The sight once filled her with sugar-sweet memories, ones that crumbled like sand in the wake of today’s task.
After over a decade of running, this was where their story would end. Either her father would get locked up and she’d be free, or she’d end up in an early grave like his other victims.
Adrian slowed, his grip on the steering wheel tensing. “When we met in the Gin Mill, I can say I never anticipated we’d end up staking out a serial killer who happens to be your father.”
“What can I say?” she responded, gliding her thumb over the canister of pepper spray in her pocket. “I like to live on the edge. Also, I lost hardcore in the genetics department.”
Adrian shrugged as he pulled to a stop along the sidewalk. “Family isn’t just about blood. It’s about who you can count on. Who stands by your side at your weakest points and helps you back up.”
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. He tasted like coffee and mint, his full lips offering a caress that for a moment allowed her to forget why they were here and what they faced. She surrendered to the sweetness of the kiss, the way it sparked her synapses to life. Adrian blazed with warmth like the sun, and her petals unfurled around him every time. Her chest ached. If she could stay in this moment, she would. Here with him in the car, gasping breaths as they surfaced for air while his shitty classical music blared in the background.
Except with ten minutes until eleven, they’d run out of time.
“Let’s do this,” she murmured, pulling away from him. The serious look in his eyes seared right through her, but even still, Adrian remained steady. He was like a lighthouse in the midst of a storm, offering hope for salvation if she could only reach the coast.
Danny turned her phone on at last as she scanned the streets, searching for any sign of her father. A rental car’s plates, shadows around a corner, or anyone along the sidewalks she recognized. Apart from a mom and her kid taking a stroll and a senior toddling along, no one else wandered nearby. Her phone powered on, and the barrage of texts, missed calls, and voicemails caused it to ping over and over again. Most of the texts were from Camilla while her handlers chose to call.
Danny fired the address off to Eve Jensen in a text. Her handler had worked with her for so long Eve should be able to take the information and roll with it. She hoped the Feds trusted her enough to follow this lead, because without backup, she and Adrian wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Time to fight for your future,” was all Adrian said before he got out of his car, the slam of the door reverberating through the frame. She grabbed the door handle and exited.
Even with the mid-morning sun beating down on them, Danny’s skin was cold, cold, cold. The salt scent in the air grew sharper than normal, and the tension that descended was pure, unfiltered gunpowder. Her neck prickled, but when she looked around, no one even glanced in their direction. Not like she could quell the paranoia that had risen to a marching beat inside her chest.
Big panes of glass formed the entrance of the parlor, making it clear as day what lay inside, even with the couple of boards patching up holes in the exterior. At the sight of it, the phantom scent of cherry vanilla ice cream lingered. Most of the time Mom alone took her here because as she was often reminded, her father worked long hours. Her birthday party had been the first time he’d joined them on the trip. Not like it ended well.
Her throat tightened. If she succeeded here today, not only would she be free, but Mom as well. Far too much rode on their confrontation, but she had over a decade to prepare for this fight. Her pepper spray, taser, and the couple of knives she’d packed in her pocket and boot weighed her down. There were so many ways this plan could sour—her father already waiting inside, him never showing and the Feds finding them instead, her father pulling a trigger the moment she stepped in…and one option to win.
The odds weren’t in their favor, but Danny had no other way.
She wanted to live. She wanted to stay.
They approached the glass panes, their reflections gleaming back at them. Inside lay the abandoned parlor, the ice cream bar and stools still in place, even though the fixtures had taken a beating after years of neglect. Despite the shadows smothering this place, Danny didn’t catch any sign of movement from within. She tugged out her lockpick and went to work on the door.
“I feel like I wasted all those years in med school,” Adrian murmured. “They never taught us exciting shit like this.”
“It’s better this way,” she responded, flashing him a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Now you’ve got the training to clean up my messes.”
The lock clicked, and Danny pulled at the door, sawdust and spare dirt filtering down in clouds. Her father hadn’t arrived yet; otherwise the refuse would’ve cascaded before now. Danny entered first, the silence crawling across her skin like spiders. This place with its red vinyl booths and black and white checkerboard floors had been bright and filled with laughing kids, smiles as people dove into their ice cream, and a happy, vibrant energy she rarely felt at home.
Now a hull remained, the floors chipped, the vinyl booths torn, and a dejected sense of abandonment filtering through the air. Danny could commiserate.
Adrian pulled out the pistol and turned the safety off.
“You don’t have to shoot to kill,” Danny warned him. Not like she didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t burden him with her father’s murder. “Aim for the ankle to keep him from running. If you can’t get a good shot on the location, then go for a shoulder.”
“Don’t have to worry about me, darlin’,” he responded. “I’ll do what’s necessary to keep you safe.” The gravity in those blues offered a promise. Adrian lifted the pistol and headed toward one of the dilapidated booths in the far left corner.
Danny’s hands itched as longing sliced through her. She wanted to reach out, kiss him one last time, or say anything. Not like she had time. Instead, she tugged her taser out, keeping it on standby as she began her solitary march behind the ice cream counter. She slipped past what used to be a swinging door but now hung off the hinges. Behind the counter lay a mess of chipped wood, broken shelving, and chips of paint and flake
d drywall.
Danny settled into place, flattening one hand on the bumpy surface of the counter while keeping her taser out of sight. She glanced over to the booth in the back where Adrian settled into place. She could barely make out the shadow of where he crouched in the corner, far enough away from the windows that murky blackness obscured it.
Movement from outside snared her attention.
Someone approached.
Sweat beaded her palms, and her heart launched into a military march. The reckoning had arrived. With the way the light streamed in, she couldn’t get a clear view of the person who stepped to the door, but she didn’t need to. She recognized his stout frame on the spot. The door rattled, and for a moment, Danny considered running. Where to, she didn’t know.
But with her father’s approach, all the pent-up memories begged to burst through the dam.
The door creaked open, and he stepped inside.
Years of living on the run had aged him more than normal, deep creases lining his face where soft wrinkles might be. His trimmed hair lay in messy silver strands, nothing like the old chestnut locks he’d kept slicked back every day. Kyle Peterson wore a plaid button-down, stiff jeans, and leather boots in decent repair, like he was some average guy. Like he hadn’t stained his hands in too much blood.
Red, red, red, splattered across the instruments, the floor. Wet flaps of skin that had been carved off one of the hanging bodies. The gray sheen of bone poking through where the leg should be straight.
Bile rose in Danny’s throat.
He flexed his hand upon entrance, an old response she knew well. He possessed a steel grip, and as a kid she never wanted to be on the receiving end. Her shoulder ached from old memories of how those fingers imprinted in, tight enough to hurt. Not so tight anyone would notice. His gaze settled on her, and the air evacuated the room.
Out of all the subtle details that changed about him, one thing never altered. The dead expression in those hazel eyes.
Taking Root (The Eros Tales Book 1) Page 17
