by Cora Kenborn
Fuck eating.
What would the FBI find when they finally located her? It’d been almost seventy-two hours. Statistics were all over the place, and they weren’t in our favor. I knew because I obsessed over them. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the images of my father’s savagery. I knew firsthand what pain he could inflict. The entire time, there he was…that bastard laughing maniacally at me. Holding a knife to her tiny body.
“Hello, princess.”
His words from a deserted university parking lot four years ago haunted me. I’d never rid myself of them. And now, he’d finally found a way to finish me without ever touching me. He’d found my ultimate Achilles Heel. A wave of nausea started a series of dry heaves.
“Hey.” A hand landed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my corrupt thoughts. Clutching my stomach, I rubbed my eyes vigorously until they focused on the dark-haired man crouched over me. “You all right?”
“Jaxon?”
He smiled a crooked grin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, but your door was cracked, and, well, you were making some freaky noises. You okay?”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah. Just a little sick.”
He nodded to the demolished chip bag on the floor. “I don’t see how, Phoebe. You haven’t eaten since I’ve been here. When was the last time you’ve had a meal?”
I cast my eyes to the pillow I hugged in my lap. “I don’t know…three…four days ago, maybe.”
“Jesus.” He sat beside me, making sure to keep a respectable space between us. “Let me ask you a question. How do you expect to be strong for your daughter if you can’t stand up?”
“Iris.”
“I’m sorry?”
I finally looked him in the eyes. “Iris. Her name is Iris.”
His lips twitched in recognition. “Ah. I remember Bale singing that song at your birthday party in New York. Your idea?”
I shook my head. “His.”
“How sappy.”
Being isolated changed a person. I’d spent so much time not talking to people and staring at walls, his statement sparked anger inside me. “It’s not sappy! It’s sweet…and thoughtful. Her whole name was Julian’s idea. Her middle name is my mother’s name. That was his idea too.” I threw the pillow I held at his head as he ducked and grinned. I pulled back and studied him. “What are you smiling about?”
“Got you talking.” His goofy grin gleamed again. Finally, my emotions broke as I burst into tears. Jaxon boldly scooted closer, and draped an arm around my shoulders.
“Why?” I mumbled, turning my face into his shoulder.
“Why what?” he asked, rubbing my back.
“Why can’t you catch him? Why does my father hate me so much? Why does god not want me to have a moment of peace?” I knew there were no answers to my questions, but I had to voice them before they consumed me.
His broad chest expanded and released with a sigh under my cheek. “I don’t know, Phoebe. Men like him don’t have a conscience. He doesn’t hate you…he just hates in general. In my opinion, he blames everything bad in his life on you. You’ve become the embodiment of his failure. That’s the way a sick mind works.” I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. His throat rumbled before he spoke again, his body turning slightly rigid. “As for the rest, I couldn’t tell you. God and I don’t see eye to eye these days.”
As voices filled the hallway, Jaxon quickly released his hold on me and ruffled my dirty hair, making a comment about how my new cut suited me. Making a hasty exit, he left me alone to question our entire conversation.
***
Five hours later, I pulled back the living room curtain and winced as a flash went off. I blinked, the bright light blinding me as I staggered backward into a hard chest.
“You okay, Mrs. Bale?” I glanced back at Everson, his tree-trunk arms holding me steady.
“I’m fine,” I answered, squirming out of his hold. I shifted a quick glance at Julian, who sat on the arm of the couch. His hard stare pierced through my skin, swirling a mix of hope and fury in my stomach at the jealousy in his eyes. I didn’t want him to think I wanted another man touching me, but hell…at least I finally got a reaction out of him. Up until now, he’d treated me like a bad habit he’d decided to kick.
Everson closed the curtains. “No one should go near the windows. Don’t give those assholes what they want.”
Everything quieted for the rest of the afternoon. We all took turns staring at each other while FBI agents shifted papers around, made calls, hooked up more wires, and went in and out of the house. The police returned one by one from setting up more road blocks, sweeping hotels, and knocking on random doors.
Everyone had been looking for the female who impersonated Faith. With nothing to go on, local detectives had even taken to investigating Faith. For once, I’d come alive, jumping to her defense. I pleaded with them to leave her alone. I knew Faith like a sister. They were wasting time and resources. Plus, I knew what the publicity could do to her business. Serving as the CEO of a public relations firm, bad press could ruin her.
I’d looked around the room for help, some sort of backup.
Nothing. No one said shit. Especially Julian.
My own husband just stared at me. That was when I knew things were worse than I thought. The divide between us had widened. One false step and I’d fall to my death. I thought Julian would keep me from teetering off the edge of sanity. Instead, he nudged me toward it day by day.
I scanned the room for Zane. At least he’d stick up for Faith. But he was nowhere to be found either. Again, I stood as the lone wolf.
Until Zane came flying in the room from the back of the house cursing at the top of his lungs, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He stomped to the front door, jerking it open to the protests of every badged uniform in the room.
“Shut the fuck up, all of you!” he yelled as he pushed through the flashes of cameras. No one in the room spoke. We barely breathed as we watched him fling open the driver’s side door of the red BMW sitting by the curb and drag out whoever sat behind the wheel. As they moved, I recognized the mane of blond waves trailing down her back. Taking off his t-shirt, he draped it over her head and barked obscenities as he pushed his way back into the house.
Kicking the door shut with his boot, he threw his phone and punched the door. “Goddamn assholes! Go fuck yourselves!” He tried to lead her out of the room, but I stopped them, placing my hand on her arm.
“Faith?” She stopped moving.
“Not now, Phoebe,” Zane growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and moving her forward. I stepped in front of them. Time was running out for Iris. I needed answers.
“Faith?” I asked again, this time with more force. “Talk to me.”
She let out a shuddered breath and pulled the t-shirt off her head. Tears stained her face, and I gasped as black and purple bruises glistened beneath them. Fist marks marred her beautiful face, around her eye, on both cheeks, and on her chin. She’d been brutally beaten.
“Shit!” I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know where to touch that wouldn’t hurt her. “Oh my god, what happened?”
“Mottola, that’s what happened,” Zane yelled, his eyes wild with hatred. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker!”
I gingerly touched her hand. “Armando did this to you?” She nodded, a wave of tears somehow making it out of a crack in the swollen mass of her eyes. “Why?”
“The press ran a story on Mottola and Associates.” She tried to shrug, the motion causing her to wince in pain. “I went to confront my assistant. She admitted she found Penelope,” she turned to face the FBI agents, “that’s the intern, Penelope Hammond, in my desk drawer replacing my keys. She didn’t think much of it. Penelope made up some story about borrowing them to move my car.” She lowered her head as tremors shook her. “I didn’t know, Pheebs. I don’t do the hiring. Armando handles that. I had no reason to question her. I guess that’s when she made a copy
of your key. I also found out she’d used a fake name, transcript…shit, a fake everything.”
I squeezed her hand, anger filling me as I forced myself to look at her face again. Snapshots of memories replaced her face. Me as a child. Me as a young girl. Me as a teenager. All of them looking in a mirror with the same face, ashamed at what I’d allowed to happen.
“What did he do, Faith?”
She bit her blood-caked lip. “He was so angry. He screamed about how I’d disgraced him and his name in Hollywood. He swore I’d ruined him.” She shifted her eyes to the floor.
Unleashing his anger, Zane shoved a finger toward the agents. “This ends now. No more investigating her, do you get me? You think she beat up her own face? Do you?”
Agent Young stood, his hands in front of him. “Mr. Tierney, let’s just all calm down…”
“Fuck calm!” Zane stalked forward and slapped his hands away. “You’ve been here for days. Jag’s baby is still missing, Phoebe’s two hours away from a padded room, and Mottola just used Faith as a goddamn punching bag. What the fuck are you people doing?” Cursing again, he wrapped his arms around Faith and guided her down the hall, slamming the door of the guest room.
For the next few hours, Julian and I paced, talking to everyone but each other. Jaxon tried to mediate but gave up after half an hour, joining his FBI friends at the makeshift office they’d created in the dining room.
Julian and I played a visual game of tug of war. I could feel his eyes on me, but once I turned to catch his stare, he’d look away. So, of course, I’d glare at him, soaking in every inch of his scowled but still gorgeous face. As much as I knew he hated me, the sight of him still made my heart race.
I miss him.
But, as soon as he turned my way, I became intensely engrossed in the drawstring on my cotton shorts. It was stupid, but the wall between us had hardened into an impenetrable force. I didn’t know if we could ever break through.
By nightfall, Zane took Faith to his house, Ryker called to say Eliza was on a flight to LAX, and all the agents went to hotels. Only Jaxon and Everson remained. Julian had gone into our bedroom hours ago, without a word to me. It hurt, but I tried not to let it show. To keep myself busy, I cleaned the disaster everyone left in the kitchen and living room, but by midnight, exhaustion won out over determination.
Glancing up the stairs, I felt empty. My arms were empty. They ached to hold my baby. They ached to hold my husband. But one had been taken from me and the other didn’t want me. My gaze was pulled toward the door to our bedroom once more.
I had to try.
To my surprise, the door wasn’t locked. It pushed open with ease as I timidly walked in. Julian was on the furthest end of the bed, lying on his side with his back to me. Just by his erratic breathing, I knew he was awake. I’d slept curled around the man enough times to know the rhythmic sound of his sleep.
Quietly, I knelt, first one leg, then the other beside him. He didn’t move, so I sat down and placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. Whenever I felt lost, Julian could always bring me back to safety. I’d been floundering, because he’d left me out to sea with no net. Together we were invincible. If he shut me out now, I didn’t know what I’d become.
I trembled as I waited for a response, swallowing dryly as seconds ticked by. A muffled cry caught in my throat, and I started to pull my hand away. As my fingers scraped his skin, his hand reached across his chest and grabbed my fingers. With a strangled sigh of relief, tears spilled down my cheeks as he slowly rolled over, his eyes shadowed in the dark.
I didn’t care. I felt him.
Both hands lifted and tangled in my hair, a move that reminded me of our early days. His thumbs brushed across my cheeks, spreading my salty tears into my skin. I closed my eyes to soak in the moment. It meant everything. It was us. Whatever happened after this moment, I knew in his touch, I could still feel his love.
That was where the moment ended.
Tightening his fingers in my hair, he pulled me against him, fusing our mouths together in a punishing kiss. I tried to speak, but he covered my mouth tighter and dove in harder. Within seconds, he had me under him, his fingers hooked in my shorts, dragging them down my thighs. Clad only in a pair of boxers, a simple jerk of the wrist and he had them off and on the floor.
I came to him for comfort, but I allowed it to happen. Julian wasn’t a monster. I knew in my heart if I’d said no, he would’ve stopped. I wasn’t scared of him. The need to be in his arms, to find the peace we always had when we made love, outweighed the negative voices in my head.
Julian’s mouth was everywhere and anywhere, and it wasn’t gentle.
I wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t making love to me. He wasn’t even fucking me. He was using me to release his pent-up emotions.
When it was over, he dragged his forehead across my chest, and I held my breath. Usually, he settled in beside me and held me against him so tightly I couldn’t breathe. Instead, he muttered something incoherently under his breath and pushed off me.
I released the breath I’d been holding.
He sat up with his back to me and lowered his head, his elbows balanced on his knees. At a loss for words, I hesitated before reaching out to him. After what just happened, words were failing me, but I knew we’d come to a pivotal moment. Whatever happened next could determine if Julian and I made it, or crashed and burned.
I chewed my cheek as I touched his back. “Julian?”
This time he flinched.
He had something white balled up in his right hand. As my mind cleared, I remembered him holding it as he’d grabbed my hand when I first came in the bedroom.
Had he held it the whole time we were together?
“Julian?” I called to him again.
This time he stood, the moonlight highlighting his naked body. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t think my mouth could get any drier. “For what?”
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“I wanted it to.”
He bowed his head. “Still, it was wrong.”
A knife to the heart would’ve hurt less. “What’s happening to us, Julian?” Even through my blurred vision, I could see the pain etched on his face. His hand flexed around the white cloth then released it, letting it fall to the floor.
“I’ll sleep in the guest room”
I watched him as he stumbled out of the room and slammed the door. Minutes turned into hours before I gathered the strength to pick up the cloth he’d been holding. I smoothed it out on the bed and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. As the room illuminated, a cry gurgled from my throat, and I backed away from it.
Shining against the light of the lamp was a tiny white onesie with the words ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ written in pink cursive glitter across the front.
Huddled against the headboard, I cried for everything we’d lost.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Julian
I’m no better than her father.
The thought rolled through my head all night and half the morning. I had no right to touch her. We were both lost, and when she came to me, I’d wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.
One touch was all it took. My intention had been to soothe both of us. Then fear for Iris took over, and somehow, it all manifested into using her. That wasn’t who we were.
Phoebe and I had always been passionate people. When we came together, it was explosive. But last night took it over the edge. I wouldn’t treat my girlfriend like a piece of ass. Why the hell would I allow myself to treat my wife like one?
That damn onesie messed with my head.
I needed to be alone, and Phoebe kept at me like always. Only this time, my fear for my daughter’s life took over, and I became the monster Phoebe had run from her whole life.
Rolling out of the guest room bed, I tore the sheet off and wrapped it around me. I’d left our bedroom so fast last night I hadn’t even bothered to get dressed. Pressing my ear against the door, I li
stened for voices. Recognizing Phoebe’s distinctive drawl coming from downstairs, I flung open the door and headed for the shower, a plan forming in my head.
I’d never be a monster in Phoebe’s nightmares again.
***
By the time I wandered downstairs, freshly showered, the house was full again.
Don’t these people have homes?
I opened my mouth for a smart-ass comment when I caught Phoebe’s face. She sat at the dining room table/FBI headquarters, streaked with tears. The way everyone huddled around her, I knew it couldn’t be about last night.
“What happened?” I stepped forward, intent on finding out for myself.
Hough moved in front of me, blocking my view. “Why don’t you come with me for a minute?”
I shoved his chest. “What happened?” I continue toward Phoebe, and people scattered. Finally, I got a look at what she held in her hand. It seemed to be some sort of yellow scarf. “What’s that?” I demanded. Like a gnat that wouldn’t go away, Hough appeared in front of me again.
“If you’ll shut up, I’ll tell you.” He placed the heel of his palm against my shoulder and moved me away from the table. When we were out of earshot he lowered his voice. “A delivery arrived about an hour ago.”
“What kind of delivery?”
“It was a regular mail delivery with no return address.” He held up a hand as I opened my mouth. “Yes, it’s already been dusted, and no, there aren’t any fingerprints. It was just a note and the scarf.”
My senses went into overdrive. “There’s a note?”
Nodding, he handed me a pair of latex gloves and a typed note on printed paper. As I scanned it, my heartbeat pounded in my throat and sirens wailed in my ears.
Lord’s Princess has lost her sheep
And doesn’t know where to find her.
Leave her alone and she’ll come home,