by Sylvia Day
I thought of the people I’d called on Eva’s behalf. Cary, who was like a brother to her. Victor, her father. Who would Eva call if our situations were reversed? Chris? Certainly not my brother.
Why? All these years I’d wondered about that. Christopher could have meant much more to me, a link to the new family my mother had created.
Opening the drawer, I stared at the tiny flash drive that Angus had retrieved from the Lucases’ home. Did it hold the answer?
Would it matter now if it did?
The moment I dreaded came much too quickly. I lay on the bed with my eyes closed, feeling the bed shift as Eva turned over, hearing her soft sigh as she settled into the new position. She would drift back into sleep if I let her. I could give her a few more hours of peace.
But Victor’s flight was on the ground in New York. The police could arrive here at any moment. Reality was going to intrude no matter how badly I wanted to hold it at bay, which meant the time I had left to break the news to my wife was winding down.
I sat up and scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the burn of the stubble that shadowed my jaw. Then I touched her shoulder, rousing her as gently as I could.
“Hey.” She rolled toward me, her eyes slumberous. “You’re still dressed. Did you work all night?”
I stood and turned the bedside light on, unable to discuss the situation without being on my feet. “Eva. We need to talk.”
Blinking at me, she pushed up onto her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Splash some water on your face while I fix you a cup of coffee, okay? And wait here in the bedroom until I bring it to you.”
She frowned. “You sound serious.”
“I am. And you need to be awake.”
“Okay.” Tossing back the comforter, Eva got out of bed.
I grabbed Lucky and shut the bedroom door behind me, dropping him off in the bathroom before I fixed coffee for both me and Eva. New day, same routine. A few more minutes of pretending nothing had changed amounted to a different kind of lie.
When I returned to the bedroom, I found Eva pulling on a pair of pajama pants. She’d pulled her hair back in a short ponytail and there was a spot of toothpaste on her T-shirt. Normal. For the moment, she was the wife I loved beyond all reason.
She took the mug from me and breathed in the aroma, her eyes closing in pure pleasure. It was so like her, so very Eva, that my chest hurt.
I set my coffee aside, my stomach suddenly too knotted to contemplate putting anything into it. “Sit in that chair over there, angel.”
“You’re starting to freak me out.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I touched her cheek. “I don’t mean to drag this out. If you sit down, I’ll explain.”
Eva settled into the reading chair beneath the arched windows. The sky was turning from night to bluish gray. I turned on the light beside her, then grabbed the other chair and placed it in front of her. Holding out my hand for hers, I sat, squeezing her fingers gently.
I took a deep breath. “I lied to you. I’m going to defend that decision when I’m done, but for now …”
Her gaze narrowed. “Spit it out, ace.”
“You were right about the gunshots you heard. One of the photographers opened fire on us last night. Your mother was hit.” I paused, struggled to say the words. “She didn’t make it.”
Eva stared at me, her eyes big and dark in her suddenly pale face. Her hand was trembling violently when she put her coffee on the end table. “What are you saying?”
“She was shot, Eva.” I tightened my grip on her abruptly cold hands, sensing her panic. “It was fatal. I’m sorry.”
Her breathing picked up.
“I don’t have any answers to give you right now. They have the shooter in custody and Raúl has told me that Detectives Graves and Michna were assigned to the case.”
“They’re homicide cops,” she said, her voice flat.
“Yes.” They’d been the ones to investigate Nathan Barker’s death. I knew them better than I wished.
“Why would someone want to kill my mother?”
“I don’t know, Eva. It might have been random. Could be he missed his target. We could call Graves or Michna—you still have their cards, right? They might not tell us anything, but I’m expecting them to come by and take our statements.”
“Why? I don’t know anything.”
The fear I’d been fighting all night swamped me. I’d expected anger and tears. A violent explosion of emotion. Instead, she seemed disoriented. Almost lifeless.
“Angel.” I released one of her hands to cup her face. “Cary’s here, in the guest room. Your father is en route from the airport. He’ll be here soon.”
“Dad.” A lone tear slid down her face. “Does he know?”
“Yes. I told him. Cary knows, too. He was there.”
“I need to talk to him. She was like a mother to Cary.”
“Eva.” I slid to the end of my seat and gripped her shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about anyone else right now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked at me blankly. “Why lie to me?”
I started to explain, then hesitated. Finally, “To protect you.”
Her gaze left my face, drifted off to the side. “I think I knew something bad happened. I think that’s why I’m not surprised. But when we left … Was she …?”
“She was already gone, Eva. I won’t lie to you again—I didn’t know whether anyone had been hit when I got you out of there. The most important thing was to get you somewhere safe. After that—”
“Never mind.”
My chest expanded, my lungs shuddered. “There was nothing you could do.”
“It doesn’t matter now anyway.”
“You’re in shock, Eva. Look at me.” When she didn’t, I scooped her up and pulled her onto my lap. Her entire body was cold. I hugged her close, trying to warm her, and she shivered.
Standing, I took her to the bed and yanked the comforter back. I sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled the blankets around us, covering her from the shoulders down. Then I rocked her, my lips pressed to her forehead.
“I’m so sorry, angel. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
She didn’t answer me and she didn’t cry.
“Have you slept at all?” Chris asked softly. “Maybe you should lie down for an hour or so.”
I looked across my desk, startled to see my stepfather standing in front of me. I hadn’t heard him come in, my thoughts somewhere else as I stared sightlessly out the window.
Victor and Cary were in the living room with Eva, the two men barely able to talk, stunned with grief. Angus was somewhere in the building, working with the lobby staff to manage the throng of photographers and reporters camped outside the main entrance.
“Did you speak to Eva?” I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Her father and Cary are wrecks, and she’s …”
Christ. What was she? I hadn’t a clue. She seemed … detached. As if she weren’t connected at all with the anguish and powerless anger pouring from two people she loved deeply.
“She’s numb.” He took a seat. “It will hit her, eventually. For now, she’s dealing with it the only way she knows how.”
“ ‘Eventually’ isn’t quantifiable! I just need to know when … how … what to do.”
“That’s why you need to take care of yourself, Gideon.” His soft gaze searched my face. “So you can be strong for her when she needs you to be.”
“She won’t let me comfort her. She’s too busy worrying about everyone else.”
“It’s a distraction, I’m sure,” he said quietly. “Something to focus on besides her own loss. And if you’ll take my advice, right now you need to focus on you. It’s obvious you’ve been up all night.”
I gave a humorless laugh. “What gave me away? The tux?”
“The bloodshot eyes, the morning stubble. You don’t look like the husband Eva counts on to keep it together and do everything he can.”
“Damn it.” I stood. “It just seems … wrong to act like nothing happened.”
“That’s not what I meant. But life has to go on. And for Eva—that’s going to happen with you. So be you. Right now, you look as shaky as they do out there.”
I was. The fact that Eva wasn’t turning to me for comfort … It was everything I had been afraid of.
But I knew he was right. If I didn’t look like I could support her, how could I expect her to lean on me?
Chris rose to his feet. “I’ll make a pot of coffee while you’re in the shower. I brought food, by the way. Some pastries and sandwiches from a bakery your brother recommended. It’ll be lunchtime soon.”
I couldn’t imagine eating anything, but it was thoughtful of him. “Thank you.”
He walked with me to the door. “I’m staying in the city now, as you know. Christopher is going to manage things at work for the next few days so I can help you out here. If you need anything—at any time, doesn’t matter—just call me.”
I halted. My chest was too tight. I fought for every breath.
“Gideon.” Chris put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re both going to get through this. You have family and friends looking—”
“What family?”
His arm fell to his side.
“No, don’t,” I said, hating that he’d pulled away. Hating that I’d put that look of hurt on his face. “Look, I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t expect it, but I’m glad ….”
He pulled me into a firm embrace. “Then learn to expect it,” he said gruffly. “Because I’m not backing off this time, Gideon. We’re family. Maybe now we can start to think about what that means to all of us. You and me. Your mother, Christopher, and Ireland.”
Head bowed against his shoulder, I fought for some measure of composure. I was tired. Weary to my bones. My brain wasn’t processing anything well. That had to be why I felt … Fuck. I didn’t know what I felt.
Eva’s father and Cary were devastated. Stanton … I couldn’t even begin to imagine how shattered he must be. Whatever I was feeling didn’t matter much in comparison.
Stressed, my mind straying, I spoke without thinking. “Christopher would need a complete personality transplant to ever be family to me.”
Chris stiffened and pulled away. “I know you and Christopher don’t get along, but—”
“Through no fault of mine. Let’s be clear about that.” I tried to fight the question, tried to swallow it back unsaid. “Has he ever discussed with you why he hates me?”
For fuck’s sake. Why? Why did I have to ask? It shouldn’t matter. Not after all these damn years.
Chris pulled away, shaking his head. “He doesn’t hate you, Gideon.”
I straightened, willing myself not to shake—from exhaustion or emotion, I couldn’t tell. The past was behind me. I’d left it back there, shoved in a box where it belonged. I had Eva now—
Damn it. I hoped I still had Eva.
My wife had never pushed me to deal with Christopher, as she had with the rest of my family. My brother had gone too far in her eyes, used Magdalene too callously, which Cary had caught on video. Maybe Eva wouldn’t care if I resolved my relationship with Christopher ….
But maybe she’d be proud of me for trying.
And if she was, if it proved to her that I was different, that I’d changed in the way she needed me to … Son of a bitch. I had just backtracked on all the progress we’d made by not telling her about Monica’s death the moment I knew. If mending things with my family now would somehow help her forgive me for the lie I’d told, then it was worth whatever it cost me to make the effort.
I forced my hands to relax. When I spoke, my voice was low and even. “I need to show you something.”
I gestured for my stepfather to sit at my desk. When he slid the chair forward, I shook the mouse to wake the monitor. Hugh’s handwritten notes filled the screen.
Chris’s eyes darted from side to side, quickly reading. I knew the moment he understood what he was looking at. His spine stiffened.
“I don’t know how much of this is true,” I cautioned. “Hugh’s notes about his sessions with me are all lies. This reads like he was building a profile of me to use as a defense, in case we ever filed charges against him.”
“We should have.” The words were bitten out between clenched teeth. “How did you get these?”
“It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he has notes from four different sessions with Christopher. One of them was supposedly a group session with me. Either that’s a fabrication or I’ve forgotten.”
“Which do you think it is?”
“I really can’t say. There are … chunks of my childhood I can’t remember.” I recalled more in dreams than I did when awake.
Chris swiveled in the chair to look at me. “Do you think he molested your brother?”
It took a beat for me to shove the memories away and respond. “I don’t know—you’ll have to ask Christopher—but I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“The dates and times on Hugh’s notes put Christopher’s sessions directly following mine. If those time stamps are correct—which would be wise if he was covering his tracks—then he wouldn’t have it in him.” My arms crossed. Trying to explain brought back all the bitterness. And loathing—for both Hugh and myself. “He was a sick piece of shit, but—listen, there’s no tidy way to say this. He never had anything left after he was done with me.”
“My God … Gideon.”
I turned my gaze away from the shock and simmering fury in his eyes. “Hugh told Christopher he was seeing me because you and Mom were afraid I would kill him.”
Thinking of the other people in the penthouse was the only thing that restrained me from punching a wall. God knew I’d lashed out with my fists more than once as a kid.
Remembering what I could of that time, I could see how easily Hugh’s brainwashing might have taken root in the mind of a small boy whose older brother frequently had fits of rage and destruction.
“Christopher wouldn’t believe that,” he asserted.
My shoulders lifted in a weary shrug. “Christopher told me once, recently, that I’d wanted him dead since the day he was born. I had no idea what he was talking about, but now …”
“Let me read,” he said grimly, turning back to the monitor. “Go take that shower. We’ll have some coffee when you get out. Or something stronger.”
I started to leave the room but paused before I opened the door. Looking back at Chris, I saw him focused tautly on the words in front of him. “You didn’t know Hugh like I did,” I told him. “How he could twist things around … make you believe things …”
Chris’s gaze came up and held mine. “You don’t have to convince me, Gideon. Your word is enough.”
I glanced away quickly. Did he have any clue what those four words meant to me? I couldn’t tell him; my throat was too raw.
With a nod, I left him.
It took longer than it should have to put some goddamned clothes on. I chose with Eva in mind. The gray slacks she loved. A black V-neck T-shirt. Done.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Angus filled the frame. “The detectives are on their way up.”
“All right.” I walked with him down the hall to the living room.
My wife sat on the couch, bundled in sweatpants and a baggy sweater with socks on her feet. Her head rested on Victor’s shoulder, his cheek against the crown of her head. Her fingers stroked through Cary’s hair as he sat on a pillow by her knee. Couldn’t get more connected than that. The television was on, tuned to a movie none of them were watching.
“Eva.”
Her gaze slid slowly over to me.
I held out my hand to her. “The police are here.”
Victor straightened, jarring my wife into sitting up. A brisk rap on the foyer door had everyone on alert.
Stepping closer to the couch, I kept my arm extended. Eva slowly dis
entangled herself and stood, her face still far too pale. She put her hand in mine and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I pulled her close, draping my arm over her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you,” I said softly, walking her toward the door.
Her arms came around my waist and she leaned into me. “I know.”
I turned the knob. “Detectives. Please, come in.”
Graves entered first, her sharp blue eyes going immediately to Eva. Michna followed, his height advantage over his partner allowing him to lock eyes with me.
He gave me a brisk nod. “Mr. Cross.”
Eva stepped away from me as I closed the door.
“We’re very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Cross,” Graves said, in that way cops had that told you they said those words too often.
“You may remember Eva’s father, Victor Reyes,” I said. “And the tall Scotsman over there is Angus McLeod.”
The detectives both nodded, but Graves took the lead, as usual. “Detective Shelley Graves and my partner, Detective Richard Michna.” She looked at Cary, whom she’d spoken with just hours before. “Mr. Taylor.”
I gestured toward the dining table. “Let’s have a seat.”
My wife smoothed her hair back with unsteady hands. “Can I get you both some coffee? Or water?”
“Coffee would be great,” Michna said, pulling out a chair for himself.
“I’ll get it,” Chris interjected, entering the room from the hallway. “Hello. I’m Gideon’s stepfather, Chris Vidal.”
Acknowledged by the detectives, he passed through to the kitchen.
Graves took the seat beside her partner, setting a battered leather satchel on the table at her elbow. Where she was reed thin, he was portly. Her hair was brown and curly, held back in a ponytail as severe as her foxlike face. Michna’s hair was both graying and thinning, bringing more focus to his dark eyes and rugged features.
Graves eyed me as I pulled a chair out for my wife. I met her look and held it, seeing the dark knowledge of my crime. In return, I let her see my resolve. Yes, I’d done some immoral deeds for the sake of protecting my wife. I owned those decisions, even the ones I’d take to my grave.