If I wasn’t already gone for him, that would’ve surely done the trick. “Okay, you need to stop being perfect. My heart can’t handle it.”
“How’s that?” he asks, clearly amused.
“You’ve already filled it to the brim. It’ll burst.”
“It’ll stretch,” he says, his tone gentle.
My eyes stare unseeing as I focus on the sound of his voice. “What if it can’t?”
“It will. Mine does every time I get to hear your voice.”
A deep sigh escapes me at his words. Gah...this man. “You’re doing it again,” I accuse him but he just chuckles.
“Want me to stop?”
“Fuck, no.”
The last thing I hear is his hearty laugh as he ends the call.
It’s only when Mom returns with the groceries that I realize I never asked how his day was going.
Me: I never asked you how your day was.
Dylan: Infinitely better after talking to you.
Me: Anytime you want to talk, I’m here
Dylan: I know and it keeps me going.
DYLAN
I’m still staring at the screen when Damian comes out of his office.
“Luna back yet?”
“On her way,” I tell him.
We’ve spent all week trying to find anything that might connect Keswick to the boys’ disappearances. It’s like shooting blindfolded, hoping something we try will hit target. The IP addresses connected to SoccerLord, the boys’ league, a dark-colored van—anything.
The table in the conference room is littered with printouts of any information we could pull to compare. Some of it publicly available, some of it obtained through questionable means in our desperation to find Thomas.
Damian drove to Montrose, to see if he could talk to the nanny, but found only Sylvia at home. According to her, Alba had to leave for Honduras for a family emergency. The only contact information she was able to provide us with was an email address and a cell phone number. The phone just rings unanswered and there’s been no response to the email Damian sent.
First thing this morning, we finally managed to connect with Keswick’s VP at Contechs, who was able to tell me the man left for Texas on Sunday, personally overseeing the final stages of the new plant installations. He’s not expected back until after the grand opening November first.
Damian sent Luna back to Montrose shortly after. With Sylvia’s father a few states away, she was going to try to convince the woman to come in and bring Amelia.
“Benedetti is waiting. As soon as she gets here, we’re heading over to the station. See if the asshole will talk now.”
Berger has refused to talk to anyone, including his lawyers, just reiterating that unless his daughter is safe, we won’t get anything out of him. Hopefully that’ll change soon.
“WHAT CONVINCED HER?” I ask Luna.
We’re watching through the one-way mirror as Berger is led into the room, drops to his knees, and hugs the doll-faced little girl who runs at him. I can’t see Sylvia’s face, but her back is ramrod straight in the seat beside Damian.
“All I did was tell her I could keep her and her daughter safe. The woman is afraid of her own shadow. Just the promise of taking her away from Montrose was enough to have her pack a bag for her and Amelia.”
“If she was so scared of her father, why did she stay?”
“Keswick carries a lot of influence in Montrose. Plays golf with the mayor, belongs to the local Rotary Club, as does the chief of police, the district attorney, and the local sheriff. He’s a generous contributor to a variety of local charities and is one of the biggest employers in the area. Her mother died young, and by the time Sylvia was twelve, he took her everywhere: fundraisers, charity events, Rotary events, dinner gatherings, Christmas parties. She was expected to fill the slot her mother left.” We watch as Berger sits down at the table with his daughter in his lap, and reaches a hand across to his wife.
“In bed?” I ask.
“She didn’t specify, and I didn’t want to ask with the little girl in the car. When she met him—” Luna lifts her chin at Berger. “She thought he would be the way out, but all he saw was his meal ticket and couldn’t wait to get close to her father.”
“From one abuser to another.”
“Of sorts,” Luna agrees. “She admits Jeremy was occasionally rough with her—would shake her—but that it had been her father who’d wanted her to file the complaint against him. Insurance, he’d called it.”
In the room Damian gets to his feet and turns to the mirror, tilting his head to the door.
“That’s my cue,” Luna says, before slipping out the door. A few seconds later, I see her enter the interrogation room and lead Sylvia and her daughter out, leaving Berger, Joe, and Damian inside.
“Ready to talk?” I hear Damian ask.
“Will you keep her safe?”
“Yes.”
Jeremy nods and then stares down at his hands wringing on the table in front of him. “I work...worked for my father-in-law.” He snorts and shakes his head. “More like a glorified gopher he liked to order around. Anyway, a few months ago I was in his office and found some...he had pictures...” His voice drifts off.
“Pictures?”
“Kids, boys mostly. Some were just snapshots. Others were...sick. A few showed a bunch of kids going through what looked like drills on a soccer field. My son was in those pictures.”
“When you say you found those pictures, where exactly? On his computer? In his desk?”
Jeremy’s eyes dart up. He looks at Damian, then at Joe, before returning his gaze to his clasped hands and answering in a low voice, “In his safe.”
It’s a pretty safe bet why Jeremy was going through the safe, something he eventually admits to Damian.
“He had my son’s pictures, so I confronted him.” He puffs up his chest. “I have to look out for my boy.” My toes curl in my boots. The man’s never looked after any of his boys. Marya did that. He more than likely tried using those pictures to blackmail Keswick.
“What happened?” Joe prompts him and I can see Berger deflating.
“He started talking about Amelia, how with her sixth birthday coming up, she’s almost old enough to have a sleepover at her grandpa’s house. Said maybe he’d take her for a trip to Disneyland, just the two of them.” At least Jeremy has the decency to look about as sick as I feel listening to this. “Then he suggested that of course, if I were to bring Liam for regular visits, he might be too busy for Amelia.”
The fucker was trading one kid for another. A boy has been brutalized and killed. Another is missing. I see red when I push into the hallway and almost rip the door to the interrogation room off its hinges when I barge in.
“Barnes...”
I barely hear Joe as I pull the fucking weasel from his seat, back him against the wall, and press my forearm against his throat.
“Is that when you approached Marya? You were going to deliver your son into the hands of a predator? What kind of sorry fucking excuse of a man are you?”
I feel the other two men crowd in behind me, ready to pull me off.
“Dylan, keep your head,” Damian warns, his hand on my shoulder.
“You have the blood of those boys on your hands,” I growl, my face inches from his, before I back up.
He grabs for his throat, gasping for air. Then he glances up and meets my eyes, almost like he’s looking for understanding, but he’ll get none from me. Not ever.
“She’s my princess.”
DAMIAN SENT ME HOME, told me not to show my face back in the office for at least twelve hours. Instead I end up sitting in Marya’s driveway, leaning my forehead on my steering wheel, weighed down by the new information uncovered this afternoon.
How am I supposed to explain that the man she shares three boys with was willing to hand one of them over to a pedophile, in order to guard the safety of his daughter?
We have no concrete evidence, just the testimony of
a guy who was heading the suspect list himself. The only person who might be able to verify his claims would be Sylvia Berger. Damian planned to head over to the Arrow’s Edge compound—where Luna had taken Sylvia and her daughter—to question her.
A tap on the window startles me. Marya is standing on the other side and steps back when I open the door.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I grunt, getting out of the truck.
“I waited for you to come in, but you were taking so long I figured I’d come get you.”
“That leg should be up.” I point at her brace.
“Come inside then.”
She turns and hobbles on her crutches to the front door. I follow without argument. Inside she directs me to the fridge to get myself a beer, while she installs herself on the couch.
I haven’t even kissed her yet, but instead of calling me on it, she seems to sense I have my reasons.
“I’m here,” she says when I start to sit in the chair across from her. A small smile plays on her lips and she pulls up a challenging eyebrow. I drop down beside her instead. “The boys are in bed, so I’m all ears.”
I take a deep tug of the beer—in need of some liquid encouragement—set it down on the table and turn my body to her. Ripping off the bandage is best, so I give it to her straight. Her expression goes from shock to anger, then disgust, before morphing back to shock.
Then it’s her turn to shock me.
“Is that why you hesitated coming in? Why you haven’t touched me yet? Because I’ve gotta tell you, this news would be a whole easier to take in if you weren’t sitting on the other side of the couch.”
The words are barely from her mouth when I scoot over and haul her in my arms, dropping my forehead to her shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I mumble in her hair as her hand slides around the back of my head, holding me close.
“Don’t apologize for something you carry no responsibility for.”
“Telling you this shit goes against every one of my instincts. I should be shielding you and the boys, but I also didn’t want you finding this shit out from some other source.”
She lifts my face in both her hands and presses a gentle kiss on my mouth, her gorgeous eyes soothing.
But it’s her words warm me from the inside out.
“And that’s just part of why I love you.”
CHAPTER 28
Marya
Dylan is still sleeping when my alarm buzzes. I quickly shut it off, but still he grunts and tightens his arm around my waist. I wait until I feel the tension leave his body, and his breathing evens out, before I roll myself out of his hold.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I quickly fasten the brace on my leg and make my way over to the bathroom. I manage to pull on some lounge pants and a shirt before I carefully head downstairs.
I left my crutches in the living room last night, letting Dylan carry me upstairs. We didn’t do much more than kiss and grope a little before he started dropping off. He clearly needed sleep more than a release, so I snuggled close, stroking my hand over his back until finally I drifted off too.
I’m determined to let him sleep as long as I can, and from what he told me last night, he’s not supposed to be back to the office until ten or so. He looked ready to drop last night, carrying the weight of the world. There’s not much I can do to relieve that load, but I sure as hell can make sure he’s well-rested.
I go through the motions getting lunches ready for the kids. As usual, Theo is the first one to surface.
“Dylan here?” is the first thing out of his mouth.
“Morning to you too, love. Yes, Dylan is still sleeping, so I’d appreciate it if you guys were a little more quiet than you usually are.”
“He in your room?” he asks, looking at the empty living room.
“He is,” I confirm, keeping an eye on my son while I pour myself a coffee. It’s not the first time he’s spent the night, but on previous occasions he was up and either downstairs or out of the house by the time the kids got up. “You good with that?” I lean my back against the counter to take the load off my bad leg and take a sip of my coffee.
Theo shrugs. “Fine by me. He’s a good guy,” he says in a casual way, far too mature for his thirteen years. My oldest has thrown up as my protector in the past years and asking his opinion is my way of acknowledging his self-appointed role, while at the same time letting him know he can relax now.
“Yes, he is. I like him, Theo...a lot.”
“No duh, Mom. You wouldn’t let him be around us otherwise. It’s cool.”
“Love you lots, Theodor Berger. I think I need a hug.”
I love the small awkward grin he’s trying to hide as he rounds the counter with an aw-shucks look on his face, walking straight into my arms. “Love ya too, Mom,” he mumbles, his head in my neck.
When he straightens I notice I’m looking up at him. My boy is growing up.
“Do me a solid and go wake your brothers. Tell them if they can keep it down up there, I’ll make you guys quick bacon and egg muffins to getcha going.”
Sure enough, all three boys are back downstairs ten minutes later with a minimum of noise. I already have half a dozen of the egg sandwiches stacked on a platter and the boys make short work of them.
I’m by the door saying goodbye. Harry is always easy with his affection and hugs me, Theo gives me a peck on the cheek, but Liam has always been more reserved. Still, when he passes me last, I pull him in a tight hug. “Love you so much, Bub,” I whisper in his ear.
Hesitantly I feel his arms come around me. “Love you too, Mom.”
My eyes are watery as I wrap my arms around myself and watch them heading out for the bus stop.
“Do I smell bacon?” I hear from behind me to find Dylan perched on the bottom step of the stairs, his hair standing in every direction.
“Shit. We were trying to be quiet,” I grumble, closing the front door. “I wanted you to sleep in.”
“I did,” he says, walking toward me. “I normally get up around six, it’s close to eight now, so technically I slept in.” He wraps me up in his arms and my head automatically tilts back. Without hesitation, he covers my mouth with his.
I drop my crutches and grab onto his shoulders, but he goes a step farther, bends through his knees, and with his hands under my ass, lifts me up. With our mouths fused, he carries me right back upstairs.
“Sexy,” he rumbles, a smirk on his face when he has me naked—except for my knee brace—on my back in bed.
“I can take it off,” I offer, reaching for the straps, but he grabs my hands and presses them to the mattress, his hips settling between mine.
“Don’t. I’m living a dream, I have the Bionic Woman naked in my bed.” His cock lies hot and heavy against the inside of my thigh and I squirm underneath him.
“My bed, if you want to get technical,” I tease a little breathlessly.
“I’d love to get technical with you,” he returns, his eyes focused and heated. “In fact, I’ve fucking missed getting technical with you.”
“I missed you too,” I confess, freeing my hands and curving them around his neck.
He doesn’t need much encouragement and takes my mouth again. “Can’t wait for the day I can take my time with you,” he mumbles between kisses. “I’m gonna need at least a full weekend to make a dent in this need I have for you.”
I get restless underneath him, lifting my hips looking for the connection I crave. The next moment he gives me what I want as I feel his shaft filling me.
“Dylan...”
“Right here, Sweetheart.”
His pace is torturously slow and I move my hands to his firm ass, flexing under my palms as he strokes me deep. My fingers dig in, encouraging him to move faster, but he never does. Just thrusts strong and thorough, rolling his hips deep every time he roots himself inside me, grinding on that sensitive bundle of nerves.
My mouth opens and my head rolls to the side, but with his elbows in the mattress, he
uses a hand to ease it back. “Watch me love you, Marya.”
He builds me slow, loves me fully, and with his eyes on mine, his hands bracing my face, he wills me over the edge. I come without sound because the surge of waves pounding my body steals my breath. I’m still pulsing with the force of my climax when Dylan finds his and lets me carry his full weight as we recover.
“There’s more to me than missionary, Sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbles in my neck, making me laugh. He pushes up on his elbows, smiling in my face.
I laugh for a good while, feeling mellow and happy. “Your missionary is stellar, honey, but I can’t say I don’t look forward to discovering what else you have in store for me.”
“Love hearing you laugh. Can’t wait for a chance to clear this dark cloud over our heads, so I can make you laugh more.”
DYLAN
“What did I miss?” I ask when I walk into the office a little after ten.
“Damian and Luna made out like a bandit last night with Sylvia,” Jasper informs me. “She wasn’t just a stand-in for her mother at parties and events. She was more than that, at least until she was about fifteen and developed. He’s a child molester. Yeager had a federal magistrate sign a search warrant for Keswick’s homes.”
I plop down in my chair, running a hand through my hair. “Jesus.” I know we all suspected it, but it’s sickening to find out it’s true. “He’s got more than one home?”
“House in Montrose, a place in Farmington, and a new condo in Austin. He likes to be comfortable when he visits his plants apparently.”
“Local FBI executing the warrants?”
“Yes. The Grand Junction agents are on their way to Montrose. We’re coordinating information from here.”
“What about Keswick himself?”
“Waiting to hear from Yeager’s office. Local agents are supposed to pick him up this morning. The moment they have him, the warrant will be executed.”
At that moment, the phone rings and I reach for it.
“La Plata County FBI office, Special Agent Barnes speaking.”
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 23