by S. R. Grey
Haven glances back at Farren. “How long have you known that this man is our father?”
“I’ve known since he hired me a year ago. He looked different—”
“Plastic surgery,” Barnes chimes in.
“—but I knew immediately when I saw him.”
“And you never thought to tell me!” she shouts. “All this time our father has been alive, and you’ve been working for him?”
“Only for the past year,” Farren tries to explain. “I didn’t know until then, Hav. I swear.”
I glance around. I’m glad Vincent and Rick are gone. They’re out burying Eric’s body somewhere, which is better than their being here to witness the family drama.
“This is why I was targeted,” Haven says, sighing. “Eric knew, didn’t he? He found out somehow and decided to go after his”—she gestures to Barnes—“other daughter.”
Answers, I think, here is one. Haven was taken because of Quinton Barnes, not as a warning to Farren.
Mr. Barnes looks over at Farren. A silent communication occurs between them. I watch father and son standing together. Now that I know they are related, I can see the similarities—the same strong jaw, the same aquiline nose. Plastic surgery or not, the resemblance is there. I wish Farren had confided in me, but I understand why it was not possible.
“That’s why you are so committed to this cause,” I chime in. “That’s how Barnes lured you. Annemarie was your half sister.”
As if it has finally dawned on her, Haven says, “I can’t believe I had a sister all that time. But now she’s dead, and I’ll never get to meet her.”
Haven begins to cry, and Farren wraps his arm around her protectively and says, “I think that’s enough for now. We’ll discuss more later on.”
A few hours later, everyone is gathered in the living room. We’ve all had time to clean up and eat something. Haven and Rick are seated side by side on the sofa. Rick has a huge, swollen knot on his temple, but he seems not to be one bit bothered by his injury. I’m sure he’s had worse. Haven scoots closer to him. She is still a wreck, chewing on her nails, dealing with the fact that her dad is alive and well.
“I still can’t believe it,” she says quietly. “I never thought I’d meet my father.”
Rick places a comforting hand on her knee, and Farren, seated next to me on a love seat across from them, follows his movement. Mr. Barnes, in a chair to our right, is also watching Rick and Haven. He doesn’t seem to be as accepting as Farren. His expression is far more wary. But what can he say? He’s not been in his daughter’s life since she was three. Still, I see a longing in his green eyes—not dissimilar to Farren’s—while his gaze is focused solely on Haven. He wants to connect with the only daughter he has left; that much is apparent.
Vincent is seated in a chair across from Mr. Barnes, slightly removed from everyone. He clears his throat and says, “We should discuss what’s going to happen from here on out.”
“Before we get to that,” Haven interjects, “I want some answers.” She narrows her eyes at Barnes. “What happened to you? You said in the basement that you were forced to leave us.”
“I was,” Barnes says gently. “When you and your brother were kids, I witnessed a crime. We were living in New Jersey at the time. I didn’t know when I watched two men dump a body into the Passaic River that I was witnessing a hit. I only found out when federal agents contacted me. They needed my testimony, desperately. And they offered protection—”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Haven interrupts. Her tone is contemptuous. “Just hang the rest of your family out to dry.”
“Haven,” Farren says sharply, “that’s enough.”
Haven’s anger redirects to her brother. “No, Farren, it’s not enough. Our father left us to the wolves nineteen years ago, and you’re okay with that?”
“That’s not exactly what happened,” Mr. Barnes interjects. “I never wanted to leave any of you.” His voice cracks. “I had to leave in order to protect my family. I knew the men who’d dumped the body would ID me eventually. I knew they’d go after my wife and children,” he adds, eyeing both Farren and Haven pointedly. “The agents convinced me that my testimony could take those bad guys off the street…for good. My family would be safe then. The only catch was that I had to disappear.”
He sighs, takes a moment.
After a beat, he continues. “Everything happened so fast. And, of course, I couldn’t tell anyone. I had to leave immediately. I was given a new identity before I testified. My whole past was erased so that the bad guys couldn’t trace me back to you, your brother, or your mom. It was the only way I’d cooperate.”
Barnes pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture I’ve seen Farren do often. “After the trial, my identity was changed again. I became Mr. Quinton Barnes. I was given a large sum of money to start a new life. I invested, made deals, and I soon discovered I had a knack for business. I became successful, enough that I had the money to change my appearance. Still, I knew I could never go home.” He pauses and then says softly, “When I received word that your mother died, it just about killed me that I couldn’t go comfort you and Farren. But showing up in your lives at that time would’ve still been dangerous. I knew that you and your brother moving in with your aunt was the better option.”
“It seems like too high of a cost,” Haven murmurs. “You basically gave up everything.”
“It was too high of a cost,” Barnes confirms. “But once the wheels were in motion, things couldn’t be stopped.”
“You got remarried, though. You had another child. You forgot about us.”
“Never,” Barnes denies vehemently. And then he says quietly, “Not a day passed that I wasn’t thinking of you and Farren. I never stopped loving you and your brother, your mother, too.”
Farren shifts next to me. He remains stoic, but there’s emotion in his eyes. Haven, meanwhile, is peering down at her hands in her lap while biting her bottom lip. Finally, she looks up and asks her father, “Are those men you testified against out of jail now?”
Mr. Barnes clears his throat. “One of them is.”
Dawson, I know it has to be Dawson. He’s the right age, and he’s a criminal through and through.
“And the other one?” Haven inquires.
“He died in prison.”
“The one who’s still alive ID’d you, though. Didn’t he?”
“Unfortunately,” Barnes replies, “he did.”
Haven says pointedly, “So, the criminal organization he and the dead guy worked for finally found out you were alive and well. They wanted revenge for you testifying against them. That’s why Annemarie was targeted.” Haven is on a roll, putting the pieces together swiftly. “And, somehow, some way, they’ve now linked me and Farren to you.”
No one responds, and Haven flat-out asks, “Is that why I was targeted? I want to hear the truth.”
Mr. Barnes looks away and doesn’t say a thing. Maybe he can’t. He does seem as if he’s close to some breaking point.
Farren responds instead. After clearing his throat, he says, “Yes, Haven, that is why you were targeted. The organization knows everything.”
“So it was never about Mr. Barnes not selling the organization one of his companies,” I clarify. “And, it wasn’t about you going rogue.”
“No, Essa. It was never either of those things. I wasn’t sure about the rogue story, how much of it they bought. That’s why I needed to see Dawson. You learn a lot when you look into a man’s eyes face-to-face. I saw then that Dawson knew the truth. But surely you can understand why I couldn’t tell you all of this at the time?”
“I understand,” I say, nodding once.
Vincent makes a coughing noise. When everyone focuses on him, he says, “I’m sorry, but we need to discuss what happens next.”
“It’s over,” Haven says. “Eric is dead. Vincent, you’re on our side. There’s nothing to discuss.”
Rick quietly says to her, “It’s not over, Hav. Dawson is
still out there.”
Farren adds, “He’s right. The organization is far from incapacitated.”
I turn to him sharply. “What does that mean? You’re not going after Dawson, are you?”
Icy fear nips at my spine.
Farren shrugs one shoulder, and I add, “You told me he’s untouchable. You said he has highly placed connections.” I take a breath. “Jesus, Farren, if your father couldn’t stay hidden, how can you?”
Farren tries to soothe me, turning to me like I’m the only one in the room. “We discussed this before, Essa, and nothing has changed. I can’t give up and walk away. Dawson is the man who needs to be taken out. If he falls, the whole organization crumbles.”
“Why didn’t you just shoot him at his estate,” I whisper.
“I couldn’t,” Farren says, pained. “I wasn’t going to take a chance with Haven not yet in my care. And I wasn’t about to take a chance with you being there.”
He holds my gaze and so many emotions pass. I want to tell him how I feel. I want to hear him say what I think I see in his eyes. But there are too many people present.
So instead I stick to the topic. “Dawson is the man who was in prison. Am I right?”
Barnes would have the answer, but my question is directed to Farren, since he seems to know everything. “Dawson is one of the men your dad testified against,” I continue. “He’s the one who lived.”
“He is the one,” Farren confirms.
“It’s too dangerous, then,” I say, closing my eyes. “God, please don’t go after him.”
Farren doesn’t assuage my fears. He just says resignedly, “Essa, I don’t have a choice here. Can’t you see that?”
I open my eyes and quietly inquire, “It’s because of Annemarie, right?”
“It’s not just about her anymore.” Farren’s eyes move to Haven, to his father briefly, then back to me. “I have to protect the people in my life that are still alive, the people I love.”
The plan is set. Farren, Haven, and I are flying to New York City in the morning. Mr. Barnes will return to the estate he owns in Connecticut. He invited Haven to stay with him for a while, but she declined.
“I’m not ready for that much closeness with a man I barely know,” she confides to me as she’s climbing into bed the night before we’re to depart New Mexico.
The men are downstairs discussing a few business items. Haven and I are upstairs in her bedroom. We’ve been talking for a while. But I’m now halfway out the door, ready to head to the room I share with Farren.
Turning back around to face her, I lean my shoulder on the doorframe. “I know, Hav,” I say. “I understand.”
“I want to get to know my father, I do,” she insists as she flops on her back. “It’s just that I’ve never had a dad. I don’t remember him at all. He left when I was three.”
“Just take it slowly,” I advise. I know my friend. I believe she wants to build something with her father. “See how things go,” I add.
“Yeah.” She nods. “You’re right.”
“Good night, Hav,” I say before I close her door.
“Night, Essa.”
Ten minutes later, I’m in bed. When Farren comes in, he gets ready for bed and joins me. With me in his arms, he brings me up to speed on what was discussed after Haven and I left the living room.
“So Vincent and Rick will remain here in New Mexico?” I say.
“Yes. They need to figure out where Dawson slunk off to.”
“He’s not at that house we went to”—I shudder at the memory—“anymore?”
Farren tightens his arms around me, and I feel better. “No, he’s gone,” he says.
“When they find him…is that where you’ll go?”
“Yes.” He shifts and adjusts us until I’m lying on top of him. “I’ll go wherever Dawson goes. And then I’ll find him.”
Unclothed as we are, Farren’s skin is warm and damp against mine. Even with the air conditioning back up and running, it’s still hot upstairs.
“I’m so afraid, Farren,” I whisper.
“Don’t be,” he murmurs.
He’s hard beneath me. One shift of my body and he could be sheathed within me. “I want you,” I groan.
“So, take me,” he says playfully.
I do.
I shift.
He groans.
We move.
Our sex becomes urgent and raw, reflective of the day we had. Afterward, I remain wrapped up in Farren’s strong, capable arms. He kisses the top of my head, and I nestle in closer. “Are you still afraid?” he asks.
“How can I not be?” I say.
Sighing, he says, “I told you once before that I would be fine. And I was. This time, I’ll be fine as well, Essa.”
“Promise?” I ask him.
“I promise, darling.”
I intertwine my fingers with his, bringing them to my mouth. Brushing my lips over our joined hands, I say, “And what about us? Will we be fine, too?”
I feel Farren peering down at me, but I don’t look up. I can’t. “What are you asking me, Essalin?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”
I don’t want to pressure Farren into saying something he doesn’t feel. But I can’t stand it any longer. My feelings for him are boiling over. He included me in his statement about protecting the ones he loves, but I need to know where we stand, especially since he’ll be leaving me at some point.
Farren is watching me; I feel his eyes on me. I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze, though. He’ll see right through me.
Farren, however, isn’t stupid. He knows.
“Ah,” he says, “you want to know how I feel about you. You want the words.”
“Well, yeah. You give me nothing, Farren. You’re so”—I search for the right word—“withholding when it comes to relationship talk.”
“Withholding?” He laughs, and his chest rumbles beneath me.
I lift my head, finally glancing up. He’s smiling, confident, sure. “I give you everything, Essa. How can you not see that?” He loosens my grasp on his hand and reaches for my cheek.
I swat him away, but not because I don’t want his touch. “You’re leaving,” I say, choking up as I express what’s really weighing on me.
“Essa, Essa.”
He touches my cheek again, and this time I don’t swat him away. “I wish your hand could remain on me forever,” I say.
“I just promised you that I’ll be back,” he reminds me. I say nothing, and he adds, “And do you know why?”
I shrug and try to look away, but his hand on my cheek ensures I remain looking at him. His expression softens as he says, “I’ll be back because nothing will ever keep me away from the woman I love.”
“What?”
He chuckles and cups my face. “I said I love you, Essalin. Somewhere along the way, throughout this crazy journey, I fell in love with you.”
I’m still in shock. “How long have you known?”
“For a while now,” he admits.
“You love me,” I echo, amazed. I can’t believe Farren has said the words, words I’ve longed to hear. I’ve felt his love, but hearing him say it out loud leaves me happy and elated…and every other good thing you can think of.
“Essa, do you love me back?” he asks.
I touch his face, my fingers gliding along his day’s-end stubble. “You know I do,” I whisper.
“Say it,” he rasps.
His hand moves down to my lower back, caressing and soft, promising more.
“I love you, Farren,” I whisper.
“And I love you,” he tells me again.
Then, Farren Shaw shows me how much he loves me.
Let’s just say it’s a lot.
Lead-in to Inevitable Circumstances (Inevitability #2)
After Farren, Haven, and I arrive in New York City, I keep waiting for the ax to fall, for Farren to be pulled away from me. I fear Dawson, and I loathe the thought of Farren
leaving to go hunt him down. But I know Dawson and his organization must be stopped. If not, we will always be in danger.
As Farren helps Haven and I settle into his spacious, luxurious apartment—the one with the amazing view of Central Park—my worries are temporarily assuaged. Rick and Vincent are unable to pinpoint a location on Dawson, so Farren gets to stay…for now.
Farren tells me, “Let’s make the most of it.” And we do.
Farren shows me and Haven around the city. Our first two weeks are spent sight-seeing, going to museums, eating in a variety of restaurants. We even take in a couple of shows. Haven loves those nights most of all.
When Farren and I are alone, we stroll over to Central Park. We walk, and we talk. Sometimes we pack a picnic lunch and eat in Sheep Meadow. And every day I fall more in love with Farren. He loves me as well. Apart from telling me often, his love shines in his emerald eyes.
Haven, who recovers fully from her traumatic experience, becomes more and more interested in Rick. He seems to definitely like her, too. They speak whenever they can and text often. She tells me he plans to spend some time in New York City, once the situation with Dawson is resolved. Haven also stays in contact with her father. Mr. Barnes again invites her to his mansion in Connecticut, but she politely informs him she’s still not ready.
She confides in me that there are other things weighing on her mind, like deciding where she wants to finish her degree—in Pennsylvania or here in New York. When Farren gets word that she may return to Oakwood College, he abruptly takes off one afternoon, on what he terms “personal business.”
The next day, a friend of mine and Haven’s calls to let us know Professor Walsh has resigned for no apparent reason. Good riddance, I think.
That night, in bed, I ask Farren, “Was that your doing?”
Farren never lies to me, not after all we’ve been through, and now is no exception. He turns on his side to face me and says, “That asshole fucking broke my sister’s heart. If she decides to go back to that school, I don’t want him anywhere near her.”
Not that I am concerned for Asshole Walsh, but I do have to ask, “You didn’t, um, hurt him, did you?”