by Anne Malcom
Hannah: Hey, babe, got you a car sorted. You’ll just need to pick it up from the rental desk when you land. For the record, I’m totally not on board with keeping this secret. You know how bad I am at that. It gives me heartburn. Plus, that hot biker that I, of course, hate may burn this entire place down with his fury, and I really like the furniture here.
I tried not to let the thought of Killian’s fury hit me, but of course it did. Everything to do with him hit me.
Instead of dwelling on that, I sent a quick reply back to Hannah and set off to get my car and search for some quiet and some counsel from two people who were guaranteed to give it to me, had they been alive.
“We need to call the police,” Sam declared, pacing the room.
“We do not need to call the police,” Wyatt argued. “You got the same text as me. Lexie’s fine. She just needed a minute alone.”
Sam stopped, glaring at him. “Yeah, I got the text. But do you know how easily that could have been sent by the motherfucker after her? Fuck, we should have had a code word that she sends us so we know when she’s in trouble or some shit. Soon as she gets back, we’re getting a fucking code word.” He started pacing again. “Now, we’re calling the police. She said a minute. It’s been five fucking hours.”
Hannah, Lexie’s assistant, stepped in front of Sam as he snatched his phone off the coffee table.
“You don’t need to call the police,” she said quickly. “She’s fine.” Her eyes bugged out once she realized what she said. “I mean, she’ll most likely phone. I don’t know anything.”
Sam frowned at her, his mind working slowly.
Killian’s mind was not working slowly. It had been buzzing with activity since he’d woken up to discover Lexie had disappeared, slipping away in the two fuckin’ hours he’d been asleep. Since then, every part of him had been wired, electrified, running on fear. He had yet to call Bull, probably not the best decision, but the rational part of him admitted Lexie left on her own account, which made his blood boil even more.
He simmered with anger—yeah, there was a lot of that—but with something else as well. Dread at the fact she was actually willing to risk her life, her safety, in order to escape him. The fact was, if this fucker actually got to her, it would be because Killian created the best environment for him to do so. All he wanted in this life was Lexie safe, that urge might be the very thing to kill her. To end him.
He couldn’t think of that.
Instead, he unstuck himself from where he’d been frozen against a wall and advanced on Hannah. Her eyes widened in fear, but he ignored that. He didn’t give a shit if he scared her. Lexie should be here.
“Where the fuck is she?” he bit out, crowding her.
She tried to step back, but he grabbed her arm, not hard enough to inflict pain but enough to show her she wasn’t going anywhere.
She glanced down and then met his eyes. “I don’t know. She—”
“Don’t even bother tryin’ to fuckin’ lie,” he commanded, voice hard. “You realize the danger she’s in? How fuckin’ stupid you’re being, lying about where she is? How you’re responsible if anything happens to her?” That was a lie. Killian was ultimately responsible, but he needed to scare her into telling him. He knew how much she cared about Lexie, her worry for her would trump the loyalty.
“She went to Washington,” she said immediately. “She’ll be safe there. No one’s even spotted her.”
Of course she went there. Killian should have realized that sooner. Lexie was searching for sanctuary in this fuckin’ shitstorm. She wouldn’t worry her Mom or Bull. She’d go to the one other place that she felt safe. To the only other people who offered that to her, despite being six feet under.
Wyatt bit out a curse. “Jesus Christ, Hannah. You’ve known all this time and lied to us? Not fuckin’ cool.”
Killian didn’t wait for the rest of the band to berate Hannah. He let her go with a force that caused her to stumble slightly. He ignored this, turning on his heel with one destination in mind.
Washington.
“Hey guys,” I whispered. My voice disappeared on the gentle breeze fluttering through the empty cemetery.
I trailed my hand against the cool stone of the twin headstones in front of me.
Steve Thordon & Ava Thorndon
Beloved parents and grandparents. Will live forever in the hearts of those they touched with their beauty.
Ash coiled in my throat at the first visit to their gravesite since I’d buried them here what felt like forever ago.
“I miss you both so much,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m so lost and all I wish, more than anything, is that you were here to help me find my way.”
The breeze picked up again, this time not carrying my words in the air, but the voice of memories. Steve’s scratchy voice. The smell of his study, residual tobacco from the cigars he occasionally smoked, notes of Ava’s perfume. The smell of home. Of sanctuary.
“The lessons of life can be learned in these pages.” Steve gestured to the wall of books that took up half of his study. The things he loved. That we loved and we shared.
He stepped forward, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “We may be able to learn lessons in these pages, but we can’t experience them. We can’t truly understand until we’ve lived outside those pages. Written our own stories.”
I smiled at him, deciding he was the most knowledgeable person I’d ever met. “Like you and Ava? Your story. Your happily ever after?”
He smiled and cupped my cheek. “Me and Ava,” he agreed. “Also you and your mom.” He paused before letting me go and turning back to his books. “Happily ever after is a tricky concept, chickee,” he said. “Happily is a relative concept and it’s more complicated than that. Life is full of joy.” He turned back around, and I watched him raptly. “Life is also full of pain.” His eyes twinkled. “I hope and pray you have the least amount of pain in your long life, chickee. I want you to live the most vibrant and beautiful life there could be. But I fear my wishes have created an oxymoron. A truly joyful life isn’t full of pure joy. A joyful life can only be achieved with the knowledge of pain, because only when we know how much we can hurt can we realize how happy we can be.”
I let his words sink over my seven-year-old mind, trying to grasp the concept. I wandered to a shelf of books, running my fingers along them. “But your life with Ava, it’s so happy. She’s your true love.” I glanced at him. “Like the people in these.” I nodded to the books. “And you two aren’t in pain.”
Steve smiled and came to stand beside me. “Not now. Not most of the time, but we have been. Because true, profound love isn’t full of joy. You can’t love someone with your whole soul without feeling the pain of it. It’s impossible. But it’s bearable, when you know you’ve got forever with someone.”
I reached out and squeezed Steve’s hand. “I want that, one day. I want that for Mom, too.”
Steve’s eyes twinkled. “I want that for you and your mom. Because I know my girls are strong enough to withstand the pain necessary to taste joy.”
I journeyed back to the present, Steve’s words echoing through my mind, jumbling it up but clearing it at the same time.
Maybe it was that memory and the full day of sleep I’d had. Without being strangled under the weight of memories, I’d gotten almost six hours at the hotel I’d immediately checked into. I wasn’t strong enough to go back to Steve and Ava’s house, which was a time capsule Mom and I had left because it was too painful to pack up. I’d woken up in the late afternoon and found the strength to go and seek advice from the ghosts of Steve and Ava.
I’d found it.
But someone had also found me. His gaze prickled the back of my neck, and I turned. His presence almost set me back on one foot, his intensity filling up the open air. The blankness in his eyes hit my stomach.
“Hannah,” I whispered. I knew she couldn’t keep a secret, and right now, I was glad of it. I
couldn’t handle being alone while confronted with my loss.
His jaw hardened and fury seeped from him in waves. He didn’t say a thing, just kept staring at me, his fists clenched at his sides.
I glanced down to the headstone before meeting his eyes. “I miss them so much.”
I don’t know what I expected from Killian, comfort surely, tenderness, not callousness.
“You miss them,” he repeated. His hard gaze froze me in place. “You want to see them again?” he asked quietly, his voice granite.
I flinched. “What do you mean?”
“I mean are you eager to head to the fuckin’ afterlife to reunite with them?” he bit out, his voice louder now. “’Cause that’s what you’re riskin’, Lexie, by runnin’ off like this. Your life. You’re gambling with it like it’s replaceable. Like you’re replaceable.”
His anger hit my tender soul, making tears well in my eyes. “I—”
“You nothing,” he gritted out. “If anything had happened to you…” He trailed off, his face gentling just a smidgeon, but enough to show someone familiar under his mask. He stepped forward, as if to give me what I craved, what I needed more than my next breath.
The air where he’d been seemed to vibrate and chips of stone flew off the headstone, settling in the grass around us. I stared at the ground, confused.
Killian’s entire form tightened and he was on me in seconds, pulling us both to the ground, his body covering mine.
“Stay down, freckles,” he instructed. “Don’t fuckin’ move.”
I struggled against his body. It didn’t do much. “What was that?”
He glanced at me, his face empty. “It was someone comin’ very close to taking something irreplaceable from me,” he bit out, leaning up so he could retrieve a gun from his pants.
My eyes widened at this, at what it meant. “Someone shot at you?” I said, my voice laden with terror. “How did you get that through security?” I added as an afterthought.
Killian didn’t answer me. His gaze was focused in the direction where I guessed the shot came from. His face was blank, empty, his body taut.
“Stay down,” he commanded.
Panic slithered down my spine as Killian motioned to get up. Like up where a bullet had narrowly missed tearing through his body.
I clutched his leather jacket. “You could get hurt. Shot,” I whispered, fear morphing my voice into something small and vulnerable.
His eyes flickered to mine. “Think I care about that? I’m protectin’ what’s mine.”
On that note, he shook out of my grasp and the cold air caressed me when the heat of his body disappeared.
I watched him duck through the headstones of the empty cemetery. Or what I thought had been empty. Now it was full of malice, of him.
I couldn’t stand the silence, expecting any moment to hear the terrible sound of bullets tearing through flesh.
Minutes yawned into an eternity. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I slowly got up, half expecting bullets to hit me once I reached full height. But I couldn’t stay there with Killian at risk. I couldn’t live with that.
I jumped when he stormed up to me, his gun at his side. His hand fastened around my neck and he was in my space, way up in my space so I could taste the bitterness of his fury. “I told you to stay fuckin’ down,” he clipped.
I jutted my chin up, finding strength from somewhere deep down. “I wasn’t laying there while you wandered around, risking getting shot,” I hissed.
Something flickered in his gaze, but it was gone before I could grasp it. He stepped back, his hand moving to my own, grasping it firmly. “We’re not talking about this now, while you’re still vulnerable. He’s gone, but I’m not takin’ any fuckin’ risks. We’re going. Now.”
He dragged me off without another word, one hand in mine, the other holding his gun as he scanned the area with blazing eyes. I did the same, my heart thundering in my chest, expecting someone to jump out from behind a headstone. Half expecting this faceless stranger to take away what remained of my soul by putting a bullet in Killian.
Fury surged through his veins like poison.
He had her. He had been so close, everything had been so perfect. She had been within his grasp, the perfect moment for him to show her what they had, to start their life together.
God himself had been smiling on him when she left the gates of the community she’d escaped to. He had more trouble gaining entry to this one, the guards were more aware and the police presence was higher. Plus, the biker was here now. All of them trying to keep them apart. He had been patient, waiting for the perfect time.
You couldn’t stop fate. Destiny. He’d been ready to meet his, to finally show her theirs. Then that fucking biker turned up at the cemetery, ruining everything. First, he’d thought it was another act of fate, putting him within his crosshairs, but then he’d missed. The perfect shot and he’d missed.
Now he had to flee from her. Because of that biker.
He would pay.
Then he’d take what was his.
He couldn’t look at her. That was hard, considering the jet they were flying back to L.A. in wasn’t big, but he managed it. He couldn’t because he was afraid his fury might get the best of him at seeing her pale, fragile face and he’d say something he regretted and might scare her.
His fists clenched on his knees. But fuck, she needed to be scared.
It chilled him to the fuckin’ bone how close he’d been to losing her. If he had gotten on a later flight, taken a couple of minutes more to get himself to the cemetery… He shook himself to try and get free of those thoughts. Those demons.
That shit didn’t happen. He got to her in time. In time to see the ghosts behind her eyes, to feel pain from the vision of her agony. He had been cruel, he knew. And he had continued to be so for the time they’d spoken to the police and finally gotten on the private jet Mark had chartered to get them back to L.A.
The entire time, his fury hadn’t dampened; it had increased. His traitorous hands itched to comfort her while she’d made her statement to the cops then gathered her things from the hotel room in silence. She looked so small. So fuckin’ broken.
But so was he. And she didn’t even know it, but she was the only one who could put him back together, that held his future in those tiny hands. She’d almost thrown it away in that cemetery.
“You need to forget me.” Her small voice barely rose above the dull roar in the cabin.
The emotion in it drenched him. He looked up, not saying anything, the pain and fear on her beautiful face silencing him.
She held his eyes. “You need to forget me, because you almost died today because of me and I can’t live with that.”
At her words, he surged off his seat, moving across the space between them. He knelt in front of her, grasping her neck. “You think I can forget you?” he bit out. “I’d sooner forget oxygen. I’ll never forget you, freckles. And you’ll never forget me either.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t want one. There’d been too many fuckin’ words between them. So he kissed her, not gently, not slowly. It was brutal, urgent and full of all of that anger he’d been holding on to. That fear.
He had to taste her lips to make sure she was right here with him, to chase away his demons.
She made a delicious little moan at the back of her throat that had him harder than he already had been the moment her skin came into contact with his.
He couldn’t stop at this. Not now. Not since he’d been inside her that night of her show, felt what it was like to come home.
So he jerked up, never moving his mouth from hers, pushing her back into the sofa of the jet, covering her body with his.
He was half mad with the need to get inside her, to feel the sanctuary of her velvet clenching around her. Killian continued his assault on her mouth as he ran his hand up her smooth length, thanking all that was fucking holy that she was wearing a dr
ess.
She gasped when he reached the edge of her panties. “Killian,” she murmured, her mouth leaving his. His cock pulsed at her saying his name in that throaty voice while he ran his fingers across her wetness. “What if someone comes in,” she protested weakly. She didn’t make any move to struggle; instead, she arched herself against him as he pressed two fingers into her.
“No one’s gonna come in,” he growled back. The crew had been banished to their cabin on his instruction. Not that he had this in mind, but he’d fuckin’ hated strangers witnessing the shit Lexie had been going through.
He took her mouth once more, freeing himself from his jeans and removing his hands so he could replace them with his cock.
Lexie screamed into his mouth as he put himself where he belonged, as he entered his sanctuary. He planned on going slow, on loving her with the gentleness she needed, she deserved. But the moment she clenched around him, the second she screamed against his mouth, running her nails along his back, he lost all control.
He thrust into her hard and fast, his demon freed from the confines of his soul and taking him over, making him give into every carnal instinct. First he was worried if this was too much for her, his gentle Lexie, but then she showed him she wasn’t his gentle Lexie, not anymore.
“Harder,” she rasped against his mouth, meeting him thrust for thrust.
He growled against her mouth and met her commands, every inch of him threatening to explode with the intensity of their coupling.
“This is where you belong,” he declared roughly. “Where you’ve always belonged.”
“Yes,” she hissed, her eyes wild.
There were no more words after that. Neither of them could speak through the demands of their bodies.
I stared blankly at the roaring waves, searching the darkness beyond for answers. For something. It was times like these I missed Ava. Every day I missed her and Steve both. The ache of loss never went away. But here in the darkness, amidst the swirl of my emotions, I craved her counsel with an intensity that was hard to breathe through.