by Marie Force
“Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling as if I’ve been punched in the gut. “Kristian…”
“Go after him,” Lori says urgently. “Go to him.”
The elevator dings, and Flynn steps into the reception area. Seeing the cop, he says, “What’s going on?”
“Thank you for stopping by,” Lori says to the officer. “We’ll take it from here.”
Giving Flynn a starstruck stare, the officer walks to the elevator. The second the doors close and take him away, Lori tells Flynn what happened.
“We have to find him,” he says to me. “I’ll drive you. Let’s go.”
Grateful for his offer, I grab my phone and purse and follow him to the elevator.
“Let me know what’s going on,” Lori calls after us.
I nod to let her know I heard her and get in the elevator with Flynn.
“I never knew his mother was murdered,” Flynn says. “Did you?”
I nod. “He witnessed it.”
“Oh my God.”
“This will ruin him.”
“We won’t let it.”
I cling to his reassurances as we battle midday traffic on the way to Kristian’s apartment. It takes forty-five minutes to go a few miles, and by the time we pull into his garage, my nerves are totally frayed. He’s not answering calls or texts.
“He isn’t here.”
I scan the lineup of luxury vehicles, trying to figure out which one is missing. I wish I’d paid closer attention. “How do you know?”
“He had the R8 today. It’s not here.” He turns his fancy two-seater around and aims for the garage door, which is still open.
“Where else would he go?”
“I don’t know.” He places a call to Jasper, tells him he’s with me and what’s happened and asks him where to look for Kristian. Because the call is on speaker, I can hear Jasper’s end of the conversation.
“Dear God,” Jasper says.
“Where would he be?”
“Try my place in Malibu. He’s spent time at the guesthouse there. If he wants to hide out, that’d make a good place.”
“We’re on our way.”
“Let me know, will you?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t believe he never told us this.”
“Kinda like we couldn’t believe you never told us you’re a marquess?”
“Touché,” Jasper says with a sigh.
“We all have secrets, Jasper.”
“I guess so.”
“Find Liza,” Flynn says, referring to the Quantum publicist I met at the premiere. “Tell her what’s going on, and let’s figure out how to protect him from the press.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Flynn ends the call and points the car toward Malibu. Though Kristian’s car isn’t in the driveway, we do a full search of Jasper and Ellie’s home anyway, but there’s no sign of him. I’ve never seen Flynn so flustered as he stands on Jasper’s deck, hands on his hips, the picture of frustration.
The breeze off the Pacific makes me shiver, even as the sun beats down on us. “Flynn.”
He turns to me.
“Take me to my place.”
Without a word, he leads the way through Jasper’s house to the driveway, where he holds the door for me and then jumps into the driver’s seat.
I can’t believe I didn’t think to go there first, and I pray that’s where he is. The press would never think to look for him at a small bungalow in Venice Beach. But when we pull onto my street, I don’t see his car.
I’m deflated. I was so sure he’d be here.
Flynn parks in front of my house. “Let’s look anyway.”
He follows me inside, where I check every room but see no sign of him. I’m leaving my bedroom when my gaze lands on the closet door, which is cracked open. I touch the door as my heart begins to pound.
I also remember hiding in the closet when she was killed. He never knew I was there.
“Flynn!”
He comes into the bedroom.
“Take me back to Kristian’s place.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
This can’t be happening. Everyone will know. They’ll pity me. I can’t bear it. I hate to be pitied. I hate the way people look at you when they find out something awful happened to you, long before you had any control over anything.
I’ve put the horror of my mother’s murder deep in the past where it belongs, but now… The bandage has been ripped off, everyone will know, and I can’t stop it. I can’t control it, and that infuriates me.
The LAPD will want the world to know about its detectives closing a thirty-three-year-old cold case, not to mention the other cases tied to the guy who killed my mother. It’ll be a huge story. The voracious Hollywood press will go wild when they make the connection to me and Quantum. They’ll wallow in every salacious detail of the murdered prostitute who gave birth to one of Hollywood’s most influential producers.
At a time when my company should be focused on the long-awaited release of Insidious, everyone will be putting out fires with my name on them.
I can’t.
I just can’t.
So I do what I used to do then when it got to be too much.
I hide in the only place I feel safe.
I use the key card Kristian gave me to access his penthouse apartment and run straight to the master bedroom closet, ease the door open and glance inside.
He’s not there. I was so sure he would be. I check the other bedrooms while Flynn looks in the study downstairs.
I felt disloyal to Kristian telling Flynn about the closet, but right now the only thing that matters is finding him and wrapping my arms around him to let him know he’s not alone. He’ll never be alone again.
I meet Flynn in the upstairs hallway.
“Anything?” he asks.
Feeling more desperate by the second, I shake my head. “Wait.” The idea comes to me in a flash, and I bolt toward the game room, trying to remember if there’s a closet in there.
There is.
I rest my hand on the handle of the closed door, knowing with a certainty I can’t explain that he’s in there. I glance back at Flynn. “Let me do this alone, okay?”
He nods. “I’ll be downstairs.”
My mouth is dry, my hands are sweaty, and my heart is set to gallop as I open the door and slip inside, my eyes adjusting to the murky darkness. In the far back corner, I see him. His arms are wrapped around his legs, and his head is down, propped on his knees. He doesn’t see me until I put my arms around him.
He startles like a wounded animal that’s been cornered.
“Shhh. It’s me. I’m here, and I’ve got you.” I hold him tighter than I ever have before, calling on strength I didn’t know I had until the man I love needed it.
He tries to get free of me. “I don’t want you here.”
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Aileen…”
“You can push me away, but I won’t go, and neither will the other people who love you. We’ll be right here for you the way you would be for us.”
“I don’t want any of you here.”
“Too bad. You’re stuck with us.”
It doesn’t happen right away, but after a long while, his body starts to lose some of the tension that grips his every muscle. He doesn’t exactly relax, but he stops trying to push me away. With one hand, I run my fingers through his hair and make circles on his back with the other. I want to know what he’s thinking and feeling, but I don’t dare ask.
I have no idea how long we’re there. Time ceases to exist. When I left the office, I had hours until I needed to pick up the kids from camp. I figure two hours or so have passed since then, so I don’t need to worry yet about getting them. I can continue to give Kristian my full attention.
He’s leaning against me now, allowing me to comfort him.
I consider that a victory. I kiss his forehead and then tip up his chin to ki
ss his lips.
At first, he responds with the usual ardor, but then he turns away. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
He shakes his head. “It’s going to be everywhere. Every disgusting detail.”
“I won’t read a word of it. Anything I hear about it, I’ll hear from you—and only you.”
He sighs deeply. “Everyone else will devour it.”
“The people who love you, the ones who matter, won’t if you don’t want them to.”
“There’ll be a trial. I’ll have to testify. How will you avoid it then?”
“I love you. I love you no matter what.”
He snorts with disbelief. “You say that now…”
“I say that forever.”
Shaking his head, he rubs his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “You don’t even know what happened or the things I did or anything.”
“I know everything I need to know to be certain I will love you for the rest of my life, no matter what you did.”
“I killed someone.”
I ache for him. “I assume you had to.”
For the first time since I came into the closet, he looks directly at me, his shocked gaze crashing into mine.
“The Kristian Bowen I love wouldn’t kill someone unless his own life was at stake. If it was him or you, I’m glad you chose yourself.”
“You can’t be serious. I tell you I’m a murderer, and you act like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal, Kristian. I’d never say otherwise, but the fact that you’re haunted by it means you’re not a soulless killer. You were a boy alone in the world. When I asked what you did after your mother was killed, you said you survived. You survived that. You’ll survive this, too.”
“I was molested, assaulted, attacked, arrested, kicked out of every foster home they put me in. I fucked women for money from the time I was fourteen.”
I’m dying inside, but I can’t let him know that. “Okay.”
“It’s not okay! I don’t want that ugliness to touch you.”
“Too late. It already has, and I’m just fine. It doesn’t change anything.”
“If I asked you to leave me alone, would you?”
“No.”
“What if I want you to?”
“What if my test results come back with a recurrence? Would you leave me alone if that happens?”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
He looks at me fearfully. “Did you hear from the doctor?”
“Not yet.” I caress his cheek, wanting to give him all the love and tenderness he’s lived so long without. “Tell me about the person you killed.”
“No.” He tries to pull away, but I don’t let him.
“Tell me. I want to know.”
“Aileen…”
“Kristian.” It’s the same tone I use on my children when I want them to know I mean business.
After a deep sigh, he says, “It was over a loaf of bread I found in a dumpster.” He speaks in a dull, flat tone I’ve never heard before. “He pulled a knife on me. I grabbed his arm and plunged the knife into his chest. I took off with the bread and never looked back. I heard later he’d been found dead from a stab wound. I’ve never told anyone else that I was the one who stabbed him.”
“He would’ve killed you.”
“Probably.”
“What else were you supposed to do?”
“I could’ve let him have the bread.”
“When was the last time you’d eaten?”
“I don’t know. A couple of days.”
“So it’s probably safe to say you weren’t thinking rationally after going days without food.”
“I don’t recall thinking at all. I just reacted.”
“Because you were starving. You did what you had to do to survive.”
After a long silence, he says, “Years later, I tracked down his mother.”
“What did you do for her?”
He looks up at me, stunned. “How do you know I did anything for her?”
“Because I know you. What did you do?”
Averting his gaze, he says, “I bought her a house, and I’ve supported her for twelve years.”
“Did you buy her a house before you bought one for yourself?”
“Maybe.”
“Does she know who supports her or why?”
He shakes his head.
I take him by the face and force him to look at me. “You’re a good man, Kristian. An honorable, wonderful, thoughtful, beautiful man, and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone other than my children. There is nothing anyone can say about you or your past, no sordid detail or salacious story, that will change the way I love you. I will always love you.”
His gorgeous blue eyes fill with tears. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“Yes.” I kiss away his tears. “You do. You absolutely do.” I wrap him up in my arms, surrounding him with my love, hoping it will be enough to get him through this. “Come with me, and let’s face this head on so we can get past it and move on with the rest of our lives. Hold on to me. I’ll never let you go.”
A full minute passes before he nods.
I stand and offer him my hand along with everything else I have to give.
He takes my hand and stands.
That’s when I notice the closet shelves are full of toys. Vintage GI Joe action figures, Legos, Tinkertoys, Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots, board games, race cars… “What is all this?”
“I never had toys as a kid, so I kind of collect them.”
Now I’m in tears.
“Please don’t pity me.”
“I don’t. I swear I don’t.” I fight a losing battle with my tears.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him.
“You will never again want for anything,” I tell him, fierce in my conviction. “I’ll give you everything.”
“You already have,” he whispers.
Chapter 25
The Quantum team gathers in Kristian’s living room, preparing to go to war on his behalf. Emmett Burke, Quantum’s chief counsel, is on the phone with the LAPD, negotiating what details of Kristian’s story will be released to the media and what will be kept confidential. Liza, the Quantum publicist, works two other phones, fielding the inquiries that have come in since the LAPD announced an arrest in the decades-old cold case murder of Kristian Bowen’s mother.
And downstairs, Gordon keeps the paparazzi away from the celebrities he’s paid to protect. Natalie picked up my kids at camp and delivered them to Cece, who’s watching them at my house.
Everyone is doing what they can to contain the damage, while I do what little I can to comfort Kristian.
He sits beside me on the sofa. We’re surrounded by his Quantum partners and their close friends, all of whom came running when they heard we’d found him.
I’ve never seen this group quieter than they are now. No one knows what to say, so they say nothing.
Emmett and Liza end their calls and join us in the sitting area.
Kristian reaches for my hand. “My earliest memory is being alone in the dark.”
No one moves or seems to breathe as we wait to hear what else he will say.
“My mother would leave me, sometimes for an entire day or two. I don’t know for how long. I was too young to understand time, but the sun would come and go, and I’d be left in the dark. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, though. I could hide in the dark. The dark was my friend. She would bring people home, always men. They would go in her room. I wasn’t allowed in there. I remember being hungry and dirty. I remember her face and her brown hair and the smell of cigarette smoke. I would hide in the closet with my blanket until the strangers left.”
Next to me, Marlowe is rigid. I slowly let my free hand wander in her direction, and she grasps it, holding on tightly. Across from us, Natalie holds Flynn’s hand while Ellie and Addie do the same for Jasper and Hayden. Kristian’s
Quantum partners are his family. This is hard for them to hear.
“One night, the stranger didn’t leave. He dragged my mother out of the bedroom by her hair. She was crying and pleading with him. I vividly remember the sound of her begging him, but I don’t recall exactly what she said. He knocked her down onto the floor and got on top of her. I didn’t know then what was happening. That took until I was about twelve, the first time a woman did to me what he did to her. I understood then that my mother hadn’t wanted it, because she was crying and screaming, and then she didn’t move anymore.”
A soft sob comes from Marlowe.
Jasper, whose expression is tight with tension, slides an arm around her while keeping his other arm around Ellie.
“When he left her, I saw his face. I was so sure he saw me because I felt like he looked right at me. But he kept going out the door. I went to her and tried to wake her up. I shook her and talked to her, but she never moved.”
I can’t bear this. Even though I’ve heard the story before, hearing him tell it to the others is somehow harder than hearing it the first time when it was just us. It doesn’t come naturally to him to share his private agony, even with the people who love him. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier on him, but there isn’t anything any of us can do but listen. So that’s what I do. I listen, and I ache.
“I was alone with her body for four days before one of the neighbors called the cops because of the smell and the child crying.”
Hayden gets up and walks over to the window, his shoulders rigid, his head bent.
Addie wipes away tears as she follows him, putting her arms around him.
“I spent a week in the hospital because I was dehydrated and had been bitten by the rats that lived with us.”
“Dear God,” Emmett says under his breath.
Next to him, Leah lets the tears slide down her cheeks as she stares blankly at the far wall.
“After that came a progression of foster homes, each worse than the one before. At ten, I landed in one I actually liked. The people were nice to me, and their son was the first real friend I ever had. But then their older son came home from college and they needed my room for him, so I was relocated. Again. I lasted a week in the new place before I decided the streets would be better than living with a mean son of a bitch who got his kicks from beating on defenseless kids. I lived on the streets for the next eight years, hustling for money and food and shelter wherever I could. I saw things… I did things…”