by Lannah Smith
After Dan, he was someone I could ask for help.
“I need you to do something for me, Nick,” I started to say, my fingers curling around the phone tight. “I need you to find out my father’s schedule for the next few days.”
Alec jerked from the wall and moved towards me with a thunderous expression on his face. I jumped off the chair and staved him off with a hand.
“I knew it’s dangerous to ask you of this, Nick—.”
“I’ll do it,” Nick replied.
My lips twitched. He didn’t even need to ask why.
“April,” Alec growled.
“Who’s that?”
I gave Alec another glower. “My… guardian. He’ll text you his email later. You can send the info to him.” While Alec shook his head in angry disbelief, I rushed on, “If my father or his men begins to suspect what you’re doing, I want you to back off immediately, alright?”
“I will. I promise.” The tension in my shoulders eased, only for it to stiffen again when Nick said, “And by guardian, do you mean Grant? He left with you right?”
Intense pain wracked my body before grief numbed it.
“Dan’s dead, Nick,” I whispered.
Silence.
Then, “I’m so sorry, April.”
“That’s why you got to back off once he notices, okay?”
“I will, sweetheart. I—.”
“Time’s up!” Alec announced, grabbing the phone and disconnecting the call. I couldn’t even stop him. My body had weakened with grief. I closed my eyes, choked with sobs that I could hardly breathe.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
Maybe I should call Nick and tell him I changed my mind.
“Are you insane?” Alec barked down on me.
I was so out of it that I hadn’t noticed Alec guiding me to my bed and making me sit down. Blinking up at him, I draw in a shuddering breath.
“He’s an acquaintance,” I mumbled.
“An acquaintance,” he deadpanned.
“What?” My eyes narrowed on him. “What’s wrong? Do you know him?”
“I know he’s from a family of educators and they have schools all over the country,” he clipped angrily. “And I know that right now, he’s going to light up like a fucking beacon.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means he’s fucked.”
I straightened my shoulders. “You don’t understand,” I said coldly.
“Make me!” he snapped.
“His family owns a secretarial school,” I explained calmly. “One of the graduates is a close friend of Nick who is also working for my father.”
“Right. Like Fuentes wasn’t enough, you’re also putting that person in danger.”
Trying not to show how angry he had made me, I carried on, “You really don’t understand. You think Nick’s family really lives a good Christian life? His grandfather from his mother’s side was a Russian spy, Jackman. And they’re not merely letting people enroll in the secretarial arts program, they’re also asset recruiting.”
Understanding dawned on Alec’s face.
“It’s not what you think,” I told him immediately. “It’s purely industrial espionage. Nick disapproves of it but he’s the third son so he can’t do anything about that part of their business. But it has its uses.”
“He was the one who tipped John about the corporate spy in their laboratories,” Alec muttered, his eyes weirdly shuttered. “We could never find out who it was.”
I shrugged. “He takes care of his own.”
His eyebrows flew up. “And how did you know that?”
“We tell each other things.” I dropped my gaze to my hands. “We used to. Back in high school.”
Back when Nick, Dan and I could talk freely whenever we could find the time and opportunity to meet without being detected by the others.
I glanced up at Alec. He was scowling at me.
“Nick probably has the schedule now,” I pointed out. “Why don’t you call him or something?”
He scowled at me some more.
Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and strode out the room, slamming the door close.
Chapter 54
Nick Fuentes sent the email a mere hour after his conversation with April.
Christopher had luckily found it in the almost sixty messages he had to get through his inbox.
He leaned back on his chair and tapped on his lips as he scrolled through Edward Locke’s schedule for the next three weeks. It was the information they just need to be a step ahead of Locke. Because five days from then, the bastard was leaving for Chicago and wouldn’t be back until after the new year. It would give Christopher the opportunity to set up their trap then.
The door opened while he was looking out of the window, contemplating his next move.
“What is it, April?” he muttered to the window.
He heard April inhale in surprise. It must be because he didn’t have to turn around to know it was her who opened the door. Alec was at the basement so she was the only likely candidate to step into his study at the moment. And because he could see her reflection on the glass.
She was standing at the door, looking frozen.
He turned and tossed the file he was holding to his desk where it skidded several inches across the mess before it stopped. “What’s the matter?” he asked, looking at her.
She blinked and shook her head, as if clearing her mind.
“You’re not very organized,” she mumbled, gesturing to his desk. It was covered in papers, file folders, some opened, some stacked and his laptop. “You need to clean up.”
His lips twitching, he came to the front of his desk and rested his thighs against it, his hands on the edges. It was deliberate, of course. One of the files was her father’s.
She heaved a deep sigh.
“About Nick…” she started.
“I know about Fuentes, honey.”
She blinked again. “You do?”
“Come inside. Take a seat,” he motioned to one of the chairs.
Without hesitation, she stepped inside the study, closing the door behind her. But she didn’t take a seat. Instead, she leaned against the door, wrapping her arms around her body. Her eyes on him were wary.
April had just taken a shower and hell, she smelled so wonderful. Christopher tried hard not to think about that when he said, “I’ve had my suspicions about Nick Fuentes for a while. Do you know William Carter?”
She nodded. “I know his family owns a restaurant chain – ah.” Her jaw clenched, her eyes sliding to the bottle of whiskey on the desk. “The bar.”
shit.
His hand shot out to take it, to put it away but April shook her head.
“Don’t bother, Christopher. It’s alright.”
It wasn’t alright. She wasn’t alright.
Exhaling through the usual gut clench when this topic came up, he withdrew his hand. April had gone silent and he watched her, waiting for her to continue speaking her mind.
“My family doesn’t just own restaurants. We also own several bars. People tend to talk a lot when they have had a few drinks, you know.”
Will had said those words when he went to confront Christopher about Hannah, to find out if they were really dating each other. Will and Hannah’s relationship had a rocky start and Christopher had tried to help Hannah get over Will. But somehow, their love for each other made them forgive past grievances and the two were happier than ever with their relationship.
Even though Will was older, he and Nick were friends. Nick was a regular in one of Will’s bars and coincidentally, it had to be the same bar Edward Locke and his men liked to frequent. Since Locke prided himself over his gentlemen army with the monkey suits and façade to match, he had to keep up appearances of such and frequented Will’s establishment which was famous for being luxurious, catering to the rich.
Nick had been coasting under radar because he hadn’t done anything stupid but upon inquiry of Will,
Christopher found out that the bartenders were graduates from one of Nick’s schools. A school that a rarely drunk Will who could never hold his liquor had once said was a school of spies.
Alec didn’t know that because Christopher hadn’t told him. His right-hand would put Will and Nick under surveillance and no matter how discrete that would be done, it would still endanger their lives. So he kept the information to himself.
“It’s Christmas tomorrow,” April finally spoke.
“Yes,” he nodded.
“Alec said we were leaving today.”
“We have to, honey.”
Her eyes were frosty when they leveled on him. “Why? Because I know the truth?”
He started to shake his head but stopped.
Then he admitted, “Yes.”
“That’s bullshit!” she snapped.
“It’s not bullshit—.”
"Are you cutting all ties to me?"
He paused then said, "Do you want to?"
"No," she blurted out. "I don't know."
He smiled. "You have to be more specific, honey."
"I keep telling you so many times to stop calling me honey."
"And I told you I will if you stop being sweet on me."
She blew out an irritated breath. "What screw got loose, Christopher? I've never been sweet on you."
He shrugged. "It's up to me to decide that, isn't it?"
April turned red he thought she was about to explode. He decided to be serious.
“I never planned to stay here for the rest of our lives. You were never meant to stay here for a long time either. I wanted to give you a safe space to heal, to be yourself again…” A fresh surge of fury rocked through Christopher whenever he thought about how April looked when she came here for the first time but he powered on. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted to secure enough protection for you if you plan to return to our hometown or go elsewhere.”
"It's Christmas tomorrow," she said through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, and?"
"So if you’re done making dumb excuses, I'm going to go prepare a feast."
He blinked. "You will?"
She nodded tersely. "We're not leaving today. It's Christmas tomorrow."
"April..." he sighed.
“We’re not leaving!” she shrieked and he moved towards her, holding her face.
“Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry!” she continued to shout. “What makes you think I’m angry?”
“I’m giving you the freedom that you desired. I’m releasing you. What don’t you like about that?”
“It’s because you kept making decisions for me! You brought me here on a whim. Now that you’re sending me back because you’re done with me?”
His gaze hardened. “I didn’t bring you here on a whim.”
“I know!” she shouted again. “But that’s what you’re making me feel.”
“We have a bet. And you clearly have won.”
He watched her face turn pale.
“I’ll have to let you go, April,” he breathed through the pain squeezing his chest tight. “You’re going to be free to do whatever you want. But you’re still going to be under my protection and there will be no arguments about that.”
Her lips trembled as she stared at him with wide eyes. She was hesitating. His brows snapped together as his mood turned grim. She didn’t want that as much as he didn’t but the question was why? Why the hell wasn’t she giving in? What the fuck was holding her back?
“But if you tell me right here, right now, that you want to stay with me, then I’m never letting you go. You say the words and you’re mine. And I’m yours.”
“I…” she stammered, swallowing with difficulty and he saw fear in her eyes. “I… You can’t… this isn’t the time…” she broke off, she couldn’t go on.
And that was when Christopher lost his patience.
And when he spoke again, his voice was abrupt to the point of being harsh.
“What are you so afraid of, April?”
Now panicked, April turned to open the door but he closed the distance between them in a flash and slammed his palm on the door, closing it. She gasped when he whirled her around, effectively trapping her in.
“Tell me what scares you?” he demanded.
“Step back!” she snapped, her eyes lifted to his. “You want me to leave you, then step back so I can fucking leave!”
Rage tore through his system and he bellowed, “Tell me!”
“No!” Now crazed, she fought him, trying to push him back, and he caught her wrists, stopping her angry pummeling. “No! you can’t keep telling me what to do!”
And that was when it hit Christopher like fucking lightning.
The center of his chest constricted, as if his heart was being squeezed by a fist, so he let out a breath, hoping to ease the pressure.
Disbelief pumped through his body at an alarming rate as he released April to turn and run a hand over his face. Denial beat through him, the pain that he was feeling at the moment equivalent of getting smashed into by a truck. But the truth crystallized and it dawned on him that if it was the fucking truth, this changes everything but it won’t mean that it would hurt less.
Christopher heard April call his name but his mind was elsewhere.
It was at the meadow, their meadow back when they were twelve. It was their last day together as friends but none of them knew it would be. A day that he remembered clearly and at the same, he realized he didn’t really remember at all.
She was teaching him Math under their tree. She’d just told him that she always wanted to be with him. He’d been on cloud nine that he forgot what he saw when he accompanied her home and watched her go through the gates of her house.
A man had seen them from one of the windows upstairs.
A man, that upon seeing him, had become stiff with shock before anger set in and he disappeared.
And that was April’s father.
“Christopher!” he felt April slap his face, calling him urgently, “Christopher, snap out of it!”
His wild eyes focused on her. Her mouth snapped shut, her gaze riveting on his face. He didn't know what he looked like but from the alert wariness on her face, it must have been bad. He knew it was bad. His chest was cold, his gut heavy. His whole body was frozen with shock.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, stepping away.
She didn’t let him put a distance between them, she stepped forward until she was right in front of him.
“What in the world is wrong with you—?”
“Is this because of my parents?”
At his words, she went silent. He opened his eyes. All the blood drained from her face. She understood.
"What?” she whispered.
Christopher’s muscles got so tight he thought they’d snap. "Your father killed my parents. That’s why you can’t let yourself be with me."
A change came over her. A change that was hard to witness because it seemed as if he pulled the earth right out from under her feet and she was falling, faint, and falling.
“You…” she reeled back. “You knew?”
“Since I was in high school. Since Pete Ward.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she was still whispering, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“I thought you didn’t know. How did you know?”
She started shaking. “He told me…” she muttered, her hands going to her head, fingers ripping into her hair. “He told me and God, I knew… I knew I could just never face you again.” She looked at him. “How can you face me knowing what he’s done?”
"Because I love you."
She stared up at him, lost for words.
A tear fell down her cheek followed by another then another.
He watched them fall.
And remembered why he fell for her. Why he could never move on. Why he continued to hold on to the memory of their short time together when they were children. Because he knew, at the b
ack of his mind, that that memory was real, the girl April was back then was real. And that she loved him too even though she never said those words or never showed it through the years that followed.
