Of Stone and Sky

by Charissa Stastny

  I held onto the table as a wave of dizziness swept over me. “I ran outside, past flames, thinking you were still inside, thinking you were dying or already dead. I kept screaming your name, trying to find a way back inside. Then Engjell was there, pulling you out of the back door. He was the last person I expected to see. Honestly, I never wanted to see him again after the kidnapping. But I’m glad he was there for whatever reason because you would’ve died otherwise. And though you hate me, I’m grateful you still live. But you want to punish your savior.”

  “He stole millions from me.” He hissed. “How much was your cut of that?”

  I sank into my seat, focusing on the window that let muted sunlight into the room. Of course, he’d jumped to the worst conclusion. There were many legitimate reasons to be angry with me. I’d been dishonest. I’d married him under a false alias. But he vilified me, liking his fictional fantasies better than truth.

  He growled and stalked over to the door.

  “You told me once that your nasty divorce helped you distinguish between friend and foe,” I said.

  He stood rigidly beside the door as my stomach, head, and everything else pounded like an unbalanced washing machine.

  “Thanks for helping me see which one you are.”

  He opened the door. “Get dressed. And please finish your meal.”

  I perked up at the hint of pleading in his voice.

  He stared at the door, not me. “Mr. Wilder heard of the fire and has invited us to stay with him and his wife until my house can be restored. It might be a couple months.”

  I dared not breathe. “You want to stay married?” I’d expected him to annul our vows and hand me over to the police.

  He frowned. “In name only. There’s nothing real between us. But I don’t want Gramps to know what you’ve done. That would hurt him.”

  My hopes that he still cared even a little died as he walked out and shut the door.

  52

  Lincoln

  Brown, my security chief, motioned me over to where he stood near a desk in the kitchen. He held a bundle of blue papers. “You asked me to search for evidence of your wife’s duplicity.”

  Yes! I rubbed my hands together. “What did you find?” This could be the proof I needed to cut Gemma out of my mind and heart forever. Maybe evidence to press charges against her.

  “Blackmail notes, it appears.”

  I knew she was a con-artist.

  “They don’t say her name or the sender’s. But they’re enlightening, especially the last one. They’re not dated, but seem to be in chronological order, going by the increasing amounts demanded.”

  I slipped the bundled stack of papers into my briefcase. “I’ll look these over when I get to the office.”

  I glanced back at Gemma’s door. Or Saemira’s. Dammit. I didn’t even know the name of my own wife. Never in my life, even in the midst of Angeline’s drama, had I felt so conflicted. Her last words haunted me. Maybe she was guilty, and I had every reason to be angry with her. But what if I didn’t? I’d pledged to love her through good and bad. Yet when the first gnarly wave had hit, I’d abandoned ship, after locking her up in the brig. It had felt like the right thing to do, until I’d seen her just now. The bags under her eyes and her obvious physical weakness bothered me more than I cared to admit. When Brown had informed me that she’d hardly eaten in the past three days, I’d determined to force-feed her.

  I grimaced. Had she seriously searched for me that night? Terrified on my behalf? Was there a chance she hadn’t played me? That she honestly cared?

  My head throbbed with questions. But if she cared about me, why had she lied for all these months? Only a guilty person kept secrets.

  I wanted to barge back into her room and take her in my arms. Hold her. Kiss her, just to see how she’d respond. But I wouldn’t be fooled again.

  I needed to figure out the truth.

  Heaven help me, I loved her still, but I’d loved Angeline once, too. Heart and soul. And she had almost destroyed me. I wouldn’t give that power to a woman again unless I was absolutely certain of her. And right now, I was so uncertain about Gemma or Saemira that it wasn’t funny.

  I focused back on Brown. “Make sure she eats. And be kind.”

  My chief sputtered. “I assure you, my men and I have been completely professional.”

  “I know. Just…she’s…”

  “Your wife,” he said.

  I clenched my teeth.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. McConnell. I’ll treat her as I would my own daughter.”

  That made me feel somewhat better. “Thanks.” I left before I lost my good sense and barged back into my wife’s room.

  The county lockup made me queasy. I hated being here with these types of people. But things weren’t adding up about my wife, if she could be called that. I had no idea how the law worked. Since she’d married me under an alias, was our marriage even valid?

  I waited behind plexiglass for the prisoner to be brought in. His forged papers identified him as Johnny Dicaprio, but he’d disclosed his real name of Engjell Romani. An illegal immigrant from Albania, brought here on a student visa by Saemira’s own father. He’d disappeared from Chicago around the same time Saemira had been kidnapped from her foster home.

  The guy entered the room. Kid, really. Did he even shave yet? He sat in a chair on the other side of the plexiglass and scowled.

  I cringed at his deformed and scarred face.

  “What do you want?” he said in a thick accent.

  “The truth about you and Saemira.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “Why did you save me?” Or had he?

  His lips jutted out. “Because I love Gemma, and she loves you.”

  “Yeah, right. Saemira played me to get millions by pretending to be kidnapped. It was a brilliant plan, I’ll give you that.”

  His eyes moved about, not focusing on me. On anything. “Fool. Gemma had no part of that. If you don’t know that, you don’t deserve her.”

  Was he covering for her?

  “Who’s D?”

  His brow furrowed.

  “Someone’s been blackmailing her.” Not her blackmailing others, as I’d assumed. “I found notes in her apartment, signed by D. Her blackmailer called her Temptress.”

  The boy’s eyes bulged. “He’s been blackmailing her?”

  “Who is he?” I asked again. “He threatened her with jail and losing her brother. What did she do?”

  He scraped a scarred hand over his face. “Saemira did nothing. It’s me. She told me to leave Uncle, and I didn’t. Duke’s his name.” He grimaced. “He promised he’d leave her alone. He promised.”

  “Is he the man you hit to help us escape that night?” I shuddered at the memory of my time in captivity.

  He nodded. “Duke promised if I did what he said, he wouldn’t touch her. I’ve worked for years to keep her safe, and now”—his expression contorted—“you’re telling me he’s been threatening her all along?”

  “The last note suggested she work a night a month for him, with her body.” Blood boiled beneath my skin at the vile suggestion.

  The boy bolted to his feet, making the guard reach for his baton. “Do you have her somewhere safe? Is someone watching her?” He noticed the guard and quickly sank back into his chair. “If Duke’s sending notes like that, he’s ready to bring her into his web.”

  The guard watched him as the kid pressed his face closer to the glass. “Is Saemira safe?”

  Hell. What had I done?

  “I have six men with her,” I said, ashamed that they guarded her as a prisoner, not a victim.

  The boy closed his eyes.

  “Did you set the fire?” I asked, though I already guessed the answer. My wife had told me the truth.

  “I’d never harm Saemira. Duke forced me to come. Wanted me to light the gasoline to redeem myself. But I didn’t.” He chewed his puffy lips. “He must’ve knocked me out. When I came to, y
our house was burning. I busted a window to find Gemma but found you instead.”

  My God. What a mess! I’d accused my wife of criminal intent when she’d only been trying to keep her head afloat in a sea of madness.

  “Why did Duke target Saemira? The crimes started happening at my company right after she started working there. Was Duke responsible?”

  He nodded. “Intimidation. He scares you, threatens to frame you for certain crimes, threatens family members.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t learn this until the kidnapping, when I was alone with her. She told me Duke raped her as a teen. I knew about the assault, but I didn’t know it was him.” His nostrils flared. “I swear, if I’d known, I never would’ve called him for help when we were on the run.”

  “Wait. Why were you on the run?” His explanations just unearthed more questions. “I read your file. You walked away from a full university scholarship. Why?”

  “Saemira called and asked for my help after her baba was shot.”

  “Her dad?”

  He nodded.

  “He was shot?” What in the hell had my poor wife been through?

  “His second wife shot him. Saemira said she was really messed up. Anyway, she called, terrified that she and Altin would be separated. She begged me to help.”

  “And you did.”

  “It took a while, but yes. We spent three weeks on the road, sleeping under the stars or in the car. I didn’t know where else to turn when money ran out. She was hungry. Altin, too. I could’ve lived on the streets, but she deserved better. Duke agreed to help. For a price.”

  Hell. This kid wasn’t my enemy. He was only desperate. His vile uncle had taken advantage of him. And Saemira.

  “When she figured out Duke was helping us, she split. Said she wouldn’t be tied to such a man. I didn’t know he’d raped her. I thought I was protecting her by working for him. He said she’d be safe as long as I did what he said.”

  “Don’t trust the promises of evil men.”

  The kid looked pained. I knew the feeling.

  “Help me take him down,” I said. “I’ll drop all charges and let you go free.” Maybe I could make this right.

  “I tried to be a hero and just screwed everything up. Duke’s right. Society hates me for the blood in my veins and these scars on my face. Nothing I do will change that.”

  “Your uncle hurt Saemira. He hurt you. Cooperate with the police. Let’s bring him to justice.”

  He stared at his lap.

  “Two minutes,” the guard said behind him.

  “Help me protect Saemira,” I pleaded.

  Hope drained away as a minute ticked by without a response. Was the kid angry? Scared? We had no chance of finding Duke without him. If he chose the coward’s way out, I’d still drop all charges. He was innocent of the crime I’d accused him of.

  I started to stand, but he spoke.

  “I’ll help you. But first, tell me this: I know you beat your first wife. Duke showed me pictures from the newspaper. What’s to stop you from hurting Saemira? I’m not helping you just so you can hurt her worse than Duke.”

  I let out a long breath. “That’s a fair question. I did strike my first wife. She was drunk, pregnant, and taunted me that the baby wasn’t mine. I slapped her and left. When I returned, she was battered, as the papers showed. But I didn’t do that. I regret slapping her. It was wrong, I know. But I didn’t beat her and cause her to miscarry. I don’t know who did. But I swear on my life, I didn’t beat my ex. And I’d never lay a hand on Saemira. I love her with all my heart.” I stared at my hands. “I’ve screwed up, accusing her of being in league with Duke. I hope she forgives me. But whether she does or not, Duke needs to be locked away so he can never hurt her again.”

  The boy rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot for believing Saemira could be bad.”

  “I know.”

  “But she really does seem to love you. I’ve never seen her so happy as that day you two married. So I’ll help.”

  “Time,” the guard said, walking over to take hold of the boy.

  “Thank you,” I said. Thank God! We’d fix things for my wife. Somehow, we’d keep her safe from the monster who’d threatened her for so long.

  53

  Saemira

  Knocking made me open my eyes, but I had no energy to raise my head.

  “Gemma?”

  I buried my face in a pillow, unable to face Lincoln again.

  The edge of the bed dipped down beside me. “Gemma?” He caressed my hair. Why was he doing that? He hated me. “I’m so sorry, love.” His voice sounded hoarse still from the fire. The fire that could’ve killed him.

  He gently rolled me over and groaned. “What have I done to you?” Tears filled his eyes. Did it hurt to speak? Had his throat been damaged by the smoke?

  He lifted me into his arms, jarring me out of my dreamlike stupor.

  “What…are you doing?”

  “They said you vomited up everything you ate again. I’m taking you to the hospital. You need fluids and nourishment.”

  I closed my eyes, head hurting too much to protest. My stomach churned, though there was nothing in it. And my throat burned.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Shh.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Just rest, love. I’m a fool, but I’m starting to see straight. Let me take care of you.”

  I must be dreaming. If Lincoln was really here, he wouldn’t be talking so sweet and being so gentle. He’d be glaring at me, telling me I deserved to be in jail.

  Dream-Lincoln kissed me on the lips. “Forgive me, Gemma. I deserve to burn in hell for what I did to you, what I believed about you.”

  I snuggled into his chest. Dream-Lincoln even smelled real.

  “Can you drive us?” Dream-Lincoln said. “She’s not in good shape.”

  Why did he want me to drive? And how rude to talk about my body like that. I was in decent shape.

  “Yes, Mr. McConnell. I’ve already called ahead to Uni. They’re expecting her.”

  Who was that? I tried to open my eyes, but sunlight blinded me.

  Doors shut. An engine started. My mind filled in every detail, but all I cared about was cuddling as close as possible into Dream-Lincoln’s warmth, breathing in his spicy cologne, savoring his loving arms while I could.

  He kissed my forehead. “Hold on, Gemma. You’ll have help soon.”

  I had all I wanted already.

  Lincoln sat beside the bed, asleep in a chair. I’d been watching him for a few minutes, trying to get my bearings. I seemed to be in a hospital, hooked up to tubes. I felt normal. No broken bones or painful areas that might have been operated on that I could tell. I was weak. And super tired. But why was I here? What had happened?

  Lincoln opened his eyes and sat up straight when he saw me watching him. “You’re awake.”

  “Why am I in a hospital?” Or was I?

  “You were dehydrated. I brought you here after my security chief called, worried that you couldn’t keep anything down.”

  Hazy memories teased my mind. “I’m sorry.” It hurt to swallow.

  His brown eyes glistened. Or was I imagining things? Lincoln bent over, brushing his cheek against mine.

  “No. I’m sorry, love. I really screwed up, accusing you of belonging to those gypsies.” He winced. “I mean gang.”

  “No. You’re right. I am a gypsy. My mama was a full-blooded Roma.”

  “And I’m sorry I ever thought less of you for that.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry I believed for even a second that you could’ve been behind your own kidnapping.”

  A tear trickled down my cheek. His accusations had hurt. Still did. I doubted I’d ever fully trust him again. But he’d been right. I was a thief. I’d stolen my brother from foster care, taking a life of ease he could’ve had away from him. I’d stolen food with Angel when we’d lived on the streets. I hadn’t done the actual swiping, but I’d eaten Angel’s stolen goods and had been glad for them. I’d st
olen a new name and had deceived everyone I knew into believing I was a decent person.

  “Gemma—I mean Saemira.” He caressed my face. “Please forgive me.”

  “Stop wallowing in guilt.” I gulped, wishing my throat didn’t hurt so bad. “I get it. You’re better off without me. I’ve put you in danger. Just leave.”

  “I’m never leaving you again.”

  “Why? Our marriage isn’t real since I married you under a false name. Annul it after Gramps passes. We’ll keep acting for the Wilders while we stay with them so he doesn’t sue us for fraud or something. But then we’ll end this joke, as you wish.”

  “I don’t wish that.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He sat on the edge of my bed, crowding me. “No. I wish for my wife to recover her health so I can take her in my arms without worrying that I’ll break her. I wish to kiss you, every inch of you. I wish to make love to you and spend the rest of my life proving that I adore you. I wish to erase all the doubts you harbor right now because of my stupidity and arrogance. I wish to do penance for my days of doubting you by giving you foot rubs, roses, trips to your favorite destinations—whatever your heart desires. I wish to sit with my attorney to work out what needs to be done to get your true name back, to reclaim the dignity of your roots. I wish to hold you late into the night and listen to childhood stories of your parents, of your friendship with Angel, my savior. I wish to see you as the mother of my children and to grow old with you, to never spend a day apart from you again, because the last four days without you have been an agonizing hell.”

  I tingled all over. Did he really mean all those things? I gulped, realizing it didn’t matter. With Duke on the loose, I still posed a threat to anyone close to me.

  I couldn’t let Lincoln love me because when I recovered my strength, I must leave. For his safety. For Altin’s. For everyone’s.

  54