The tingling grows at the image of his hand between my legs, his mouth locked with mine, our bodies pressed close. Never before have I wanted something like this. Have wanted a man to touch me, learn my body, kiss my lips, stir my soul.
I circle the spot with my thumb, going completely still when the pleasure builds. It’s so foreign, this feeling. That I’ve never allowed myself to experience this is such a shame, and I vow right then and there that I won’t hold back. That I want this, I want to explore this more. But not just by myself.
With Ethan.
A smile curves my lips as I turn my head, my cheek resting against the pillow. I’ve got Ethan in my head, my hand in my panties, and the ghost of his mouth still pressed against mine and I’ve never felt so . . .
Alive.
My name is Katherine Watts.
I study the text I received from Katie earlier this morning, before I woke up. The girl is an early riser, way earlier than me, and I scrub a hand over my face, staring at the words, my gaze dropping to the next text bubble.
Have you heard of me? I sound presumptuous but I have to ask.
Leaning back against my pillows, I slump into the mattress, wondering how I should handle this. I’m still half asleep but I can’t forget the way she felt in my arms last night, how she was so responsive. To acknowledge I know who she really is might ruin the tentative connection we’ve formed; I don’t know.
I don’t want to risk it.
Are you famous?
I’m an asshole. I toss my phone to the side and scrub both my hands over my face now, as if I can scrub the shitty feeling I have over lying to Katie away. The longer I keep this going, the deeper the hole I’m digging. I’m going to bury myself so deep I’m eventually never going to be able to get out of this unscathed.
Pretty certain I’ve already hit that point.
But hell. If she finds out who I really am, if I tell her now, she’ll be so fucking angry over my lie. I’ve deceived her. I’m still deceiving her and she’d view it as the ultimate betrayal. I can’t blame her. What started out as me watching over her and making sure she’s okay has turned into so much more. More than I ever bargained for. Not that I’d change what’s happened between us. The connection we share can’t be denied. It was formed years ago and the fact that I’m able to explore it, spend time with her, touch her and kiss her and hold her close, makes me a lucky bastard.
My phone dings and I grab it.
I don’t know if I’d say famous but I’ve been in the news off and on for years. It’s hard to explain.
A normal guy would be curious. He’d Google her in a heartbeat, with or without her permission. I don’t need to Google her, but I think she likes believing that I don’t know anything about what happened to her. In her eyes, her past doesn’t matter to me because I’m oblivious. If she only knew that her past still doesn’t matter even though I know everything, because I was there, how would she feel?
I’m not sure.
Shoving my problems deep, I text her back.
Maybe you could explain it to me. In person.
She responds quickly.
It’s just really hard. So much easier to text you.
I get it. I do. The last thing I want is for her to be upset. Sharing her past, what happened to her, is bound to be up-setting. She’ll worry about my reaction. I’ll worry about hers. All the while I’m holding on to my secret, feeling like a supreme jackass while she’s being so honest and open.
I could Google her all I want yet she wouldn’t find out anything about me. I blow out a harsh breath. Ethan Williams has no secrets, no social media accounts, nothing. He’s boring as shit online and I made sure he’s always been that way, from the very moment I created him five years ago. He’s my front, my security, the wall I throw up to keep the outsiders away.
But a few wrong moves and a person can fuck everything up. This is me. And you’re only as sick as your secrets, or so I’ve been told. If that’s the case, I’m one ill motherfucker. Katie’s got nothing on me.
Absolutely nothing.
I finally answer her.
This is probably something we should discuss in person.
You’re not going to let me get away with this, are you, she says.
Then she sends me a smiley face with hearts for eyes.
Hell.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to figure out how to answer her.
I don’t want to force you to do anything.
There’s a pause and I roll over on my side, scrolling through my phone, checking my in-box. I still have one for Will, a Gmail account I never closed and still have access to on my phone. Hardly anyone ever reaches out to me there, so I’m surprised when I see I have an email.
I open up the in-box and my mouth drops open when I see who the message is from.
Lisa Swanson, network news queen.
Sitting up, I click it open and wait for it to load. Of course, it takes forever. Katie’s text reply is flashing at the top of my screen, but I ignore it.
I want to see what Lisa has to say first.
Finally it finishes loading and I scan her message, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
Dear Will,
I hope I’m able to reach you through this email address. Detective Ross Green gave it to me when I contacted him a few weeks ago and he said it was your last known email address but that he hadn’t heard from you in years.
Grimacing, I shake my head. Given up by good ol’ Detective Green. I always thought that guy had my back.
Don’t know if you saw it, but I interviewed Katherine Watts a while back and it aired on television recently. We talked off camera about you and I wanted to find you. Let you tell your side of the story. You were there. You helped Ms. Watts escape. And then were put under horrific scrutiny that I’m afraid I participated in as well.
Look at her admit she did something wrong. Unbelievable.
I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk, if not in person then perhaps by phone or email? I understand you might wish to keep your privacy and I completely understand. What you went through, who you’re associated with is, I’m sure it’s a constant struggle. I do hope you’ll consider my request.
I hope this email finds you well.
Best,
Lisa Swanson
Talking to her would be begging for trouble. She’d been such a bulldog all those years ago chasing after a big story with utter ruthlessness. Always digging for information, badgering me, just like all the rest of the media who followed me around, pushing for a chance to talk. She’d do the same now. Act all sweet and thoughtful—that’s her way of luring me in. Once she had me, she’d do her damnedest to find out all my dirt, investigate me and eventually figure out who I am now. I know she’d figure it out.
Without a doubt I know it. And if that happened, I’d be ruined.
My finger hovers over the button and I finally think fuck it.
Quickly, before I change my mind, I delete the email.
I check Katie’s text with shaky fingers, mentally telling myself to get a grip. Lisa reaching out has rattled me and I don’t like it. I had no idea Detective Green still had that old email address of mine. I don’t remember giving it to him, but that doesn’t mean shit. How did he get it? And is that the way Lisa really got it? Or is she full of crap?
Pushing Lisa Swanson and her conniving ways out of my mind, I concentrate on Katie’s texts.
You’re not forcing me. You’re right, what I need to tell you is better said in person. It’s just hard to share. I’ll need you to be patient with me.
So . . . I had a good time last night. I was hoping we could see each other again soon.
Like real soon.
As in what are you doing tonight? ☺
She’s getting bold. Only a few minutes ago her texts would have made me smile and I would’ve agreed to see her, but now with Lisa sniffing around, I’m feeling nothing but pressure. This is a reminder that what I’m doing is all sorts
of screwed up. I shouldn’t see Katie right now.
What if Lisa wants to talk to her again? Hell, what if she wants to reunite me and Katie? Talk about a story—one that she won’t get, but still. And not that I think Lisa would recognize me if we were ever to meet—I look totally different than my fifteen-year-old self, so different that even Katie doesn’t recognize me. But Lisa’s like a fucking bloodhound and she’d probably sniff me out, no problem.
That woman scares the shit out of me.
I need to back off. Back away from Katie and put the brakes on this—whatever I’m doing with her. I don’t want Katie to think I’m doing this because of what she’s trying to reveal to me. That would devastate her.
How else can I handle this, though? I’ve dug myself a hole and can’t climb out of it. Most of the time I don’t want to. But that’s me being selfish. Dealing with what my father did to her, listening to her confession and having to pretend I know nothing about her past . . .
I don’t know if I can do it.
Staring at my cellphone screen, I force myself to come up with an excuse. It’s what’s best. I should let her down gently and eventually fade from her life. She’ll move on and eventually forget all about me.
But I’ll never be able to forget her.
I hate to tell you this, but I have another big project due in a few days and I need to bust my ass to get it done.
Not necessarily a lie but not completely true, either. It’s not due till the end of the month.
Oh, I understand. I have a paper I need to write for school anyway. So I guess that means you’re busy tonight?
Yeah, I am. I’m sorry. I’d really like to see you again and I know we need to talk, Katie, but it might take a few days.
It should take fucking forever if I were being truthful with myself.
She sends me a reply filled with various emoji accompanied by the words Maybe some other time, and I crack a smile.
Though it disappears in an instant. I hate what I’m doing. It’s all a bunch of fucked-up trickery. My motives are selfish, my behavior is shady, and she’s blissfully ignorant of all of it. I’m living a lie. But I’ve lived a lie for so long you’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Turns out I’m not.
“Your father wants to talk to you.”
I shook my head, pissed at this stupid lawyer who was supposed to be watching over me instead approaching me with the craziest statement I’ve ever heard.
“Tell that asshole to go to hell,” I muttered, feeling on edge. I was here at the courthouse to testify against the bastard, not have old home week and reunite with him. He’d probably try to tear my throat out if I got too close. He had to be furious with me. I was going on the stand for the prosecution.
His own son. His only flesh-and-blood relative in this world was speaking against him.
“Will.” My father’s lawyer gave a deep sigh and shook his head. “Just give him a few minutes. Please. It’ll make him look like more of a family man.”
“Family man.” I snorted. The last thing I’d ever call my father is a family man. “Sure he is.” So the jury wavers and eventually decides to let a killer free. I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened. I turned to look at my lawyer. “I shouldn’t do this, huh.”
“You shouldn’t.” He paused and took a deep breath.
My father’s lawyer looked at me. “He misses you, Will. He told me so himself. Just give him this chance,” he pleaded, his eyes watery, like he might break out in tears.
Give me a break.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Bullshit. What does he want to talk about anyway? How much he hates me for turning against him? Maybe offer up details about what exactly he did to those girls who died?”
“Will,” my lawyer chastised—I couldn’t even remember his name half the time—but I was just warming up.
“He may as well give me those details considering I supposedly worked with him, you know? I just didn’t want to get caught. That’s why I brought Katie Watts to the police station. So I’d look like a shining hero instead of a scumbag who likes to rape girls along with his father.”
“That’s enough.” I glanced up at my lawyer—his last name was Stone, and when I saw the steely look in his eyes, I couldn’t help but think his name was extra fitting. “My client is not willing to talk to Mr. Monroe.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “I want to talk to him.”
“I advise against it,” Stone started, but I shook my head. “Just for a few minutes. I want to hear what he has to say.” It would probably be a mistake, but I had to know.
Within minutes I was escorted to another small room, this one in the depths of the courthouse, where the air was cool and still, the dull buzzing of people milling about and talking dimmed, almost nonexistent. I was surrounded by deputies, two in front of me, two trailing behind me, and my lawyer walked by my side, my father’s lawyer leading the way.
Nerves ate at my gut and I tried my best to ignore the uneasy feeling that slipped over me. I could end this conversation whenever I wanted. I had no obligation to the man. He may have raised me, but he fucked me over in more ways than I could ever count and for that, I would never be able to fully forgive him.
I didn’t want to forgive him. Everything he had done was unforgivable. The man was a monster.
What frightened me the most? The possibility I could turn into a monster, too.
We stopped at a nondescript door and one of the deputies pushed it open, leading the group inside. A long table sat in the middle of the room, my father on the other side of it. He wore the requisite county jail orange jumpsuit, his wrists and feet shackled, his skin pasty with an almost green tinge, caused by a lack of sunlight.
He smiled when he saw me and lifted his wrists in a sort of greeting. “Will.”
I said nothing as I sat down across from him. Stone sat to the right of me. The deputies all hovered behind me and I saw the two that stood behind my dad. Though I didn’t trust the police, given the way they treated me after I brought in Katie, I was still reassured by their heavy presence. They weren’t messing around.
“You look good,” Dad said with a smile. A smile that I noticed didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I can’t say the same for you,” I muttered, making him laugh.
“I always did appreciate your honesty.” He paused, and I glanced up to find him watching me with an almost nostalgic spark in his gaze. “I’ve missed you, son.”
Everything inside of me tensed up. I really hated when he called me that, especially now. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was, that his blood flowed in my veins and we shared the same features and practically the same name. I hated that I was forever linked to this man. A serial killer. A rapist of little girls. God knew what else he’d done over the years. Those were only the things he got caught for.
When I said nothing, he continued on. “Are you all right? They treating you okay in the foster system? You only have a year or so left, kid, and then you can skip out on your own.”
Like that was going to be easy. I could work. I was working now, part time, so I could have my own money and not have to rely on anyone else. But the thought of being completely on my own still scared the crap out of me, not that I’d admit it to anyone.
Not even my old man.
“You think you’re going to beat this?” I asked him because I had to know. He’d always been an arrogant bastard, even at his lowest points. Drunk and jobless with a raging meth problem and he’d strut around town like he was king stud. I’d never seen anyone with such a healthy ego. I realized even when I was a little kid that his behavior wasn’t normal.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. His shoulders looked small. He’d shrunken in size since he’d been in jail. He’d always been larger than life to me until I finally got some inches on my frame and eventually grew taller than he was. Stronger, too. My size and strength eventually had saved my ass from having to do things he’d t
ried to force on me.
I couldn’t help but wonder more than once if he’d gone on to rape and murder little girls because he could no longer take out his rage on me. Yet another dose of guilt my father’s actions had heaped upon me.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I wanted insight into his thoughts.
“The evidence they have on me is pretty bad, with that Watts girl talking. Did you hear her testimony?” He peered at me, his eyes narrowing, going black like they did just before he started yelling. Ice-cold memories slipped over me and I fought against them. I refused to let him scare me. This man couldn’t do anything to me without six deputies jumping on his ass. “Are you really going to testify against me?”
Straight to the point. Gotta love dear old dad. I ignore his second question. “I didn’t hear her testimony.”
“Didn’t even see it on the news? You know those lawyers are going to see if your stories match up.”
Anger rumbled just beneath the surface and I leaned across the table, glaring at him. “Our stories will match up considering we’re both telling the truth.”
He glared right back, never missing a beat. “You so sure about that?”
“I can’t even believe we’re sitting here talking about this.”
His lawyer stepped forward. I hadn’t even realized he was there. “Aaron, I would suggest—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Dad smiled, his gaze never leaving mine. “Lawyers. They can’t stop suggesting things.”
“You should probably take his advice.” We were in a roomful of deputies and lawyers. What he said could be used against him if he didn’t watch it.
“I’m thinking you should probably take my advice.” His smile was eerily pleasant. I could imagine him leaping across the table and wrapping his hands around my neck so he could choke me out. The only reassurance I had that he wouldn’t do it was the presence of all the menacing deputies surrounding us. They’d pull him off of me in seconds.
Never Tear Us Apart (Never Tear Us Apart #1) Page 23