“Come here, sit down, Adam,” Alex said, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it before.
I studied the two of them.
“Alex, you want to tell him?” Clay said.
Alex lowered her lashes for a moment, and I knew then, I knew in that nanosecond, that this was wrong, that it was all wrong. That I was about to have everything I’d believed to be the truth for the last fifteen years of my life stripped from me.
“I lied, Adam,” Alex said.
I swallowed, watching her, seeing how her eyes remained dry.
“Manuel didn’t do this to me. I’d left him. I’d left him for his brother. Eduardo is responsible for this. I fell in love with him. I thought he loved me, too, but turned out, he was playing me, teaching Manuel a lesson. It was Eduardo who tried to kill me. Who thought he had. And as far as Manuel knew, I was dead. I made up what I said about the scar being punishment.”
That last part, that was the only stitch of truth in anything she’d ever told me about them.
“Why?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I had to.”
I didn’t miss her glancing over at Clay.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” she finished.
“You knew?” I asked Clay because if he knew this, how much more was there that he knew but didn’t tell me?
He nodded once.
“The other things, this ‘evidence,’ you knew?”
He nodded again, never taking his eyes from mine. And I finally saw him as he really was. A liar.
“So the only one who fabricated anything was you. Was the two of you?”
“The American government did what it had to do to eliminate the greater evil. The Vega brothers were that evil. We were hoping they’d kill each other, but that hasn’t happened. Yet. Not enough incentive, I suppose. We wanted both, but one will do.”
Not enough incentive for the brothers to turn against each other? What the hell did that mean? How deep did this operation go?
No, that did not concern me.
“So my sister was collateral damage? Me? Elle?”
“We had access to Manuel Vega through his daughter. Considering your history, you were the perfect operative.”
“And you didn’t blink, knowing you’d be fucking my life in the process.” I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You’re a soldier, Adam.”
“What I did to her, to Elle, you knew all along, you knew when you gave me those photographs I was going after the wrong brother.” It wasn’t a question, not anymore. Clay had known I’d kidnap her. He’d given me the leeway to do it, the protection I’d needed to pull it off. “You knew what I’d do to her. You planted the fucking seed when I was a kid!”
“And you didn’t fucking finish it,” he spat, slamming his fist into the table.
I stopped.
This man I’d known all my life, this man who had been a mentor, a friend — he was a liar. And Elle had paid the price for his lies.
“What? I fucked up your plans when I let her go?” I realized it was true as soon as I said it.
He didn’t speak.
“And you.” I turned to Alex. “Did you know, too? Did you know what I was doing? What I could have done to an innocent girl?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know, Adam. I promise, I didn’t know that part. It’s like Clay said, they wanted both brothers, but one would do. I lied to get the one. I saw what it was doing to you. I had to do it.” She stood, approaching me, placing a hand on mine. It burnt like fire, and I stepped away.
“Don’t you dare touch me!”
Clay got to his feet while my head spun, trying to make sense of this.
“You know sometimes people get hurt in the process of doing things for the greater good.”
That’s all this was to him. A few lives tossed to the gutter. All for the fucking greater good.
“Did you get a promotion out of it? A fucking raise?”
He glanced away for the briefest of moments and I knew he’d gained what he’d wanted out of it.
“Fuck you and fuck your greater good!”
With that, I pushed past the men who tried to stop me and walked out the front door. It took all I had not to knock down the reporters stupid enough to get in my face, but I climbed on my bike, grateful I’d kept my leather jacket on, although it was fucking cold out here and would be freezing on the bike. I started the engine, zoning everyone out as I rode out fast, not caring about the two cameramen I nearly ran over. I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was I had to get away from here, from the deceit and the lies. From all those I trusted who had only ever used me.
IN THE PAST TWO months, I’d seen my dad exactly five times. Although immune to prosecution, he was still a criminal in the eyes of the law. I had visitation rights once a week between the hours of noon and 1:00 p.m. exactly. I would take what I could get, but I could see it was wearing on him. I didn’t know if he’d actually had any more contact with my uncle. We never spoke about that in the measly hour we were allotted together.
In less than half an hour, the charity auction to raise more funds for SafeHouse would begin. SafeHouse was scheduled to open its doors tomorrow. The kitchen was stocked, rooms readied, thick blankets tucked into neatly made beds, curtains hung on windows. There was still some work to be done on the building, but nothing we couldn’t work around, and I didn’t want to put it off any longer.
As caterers prepared for the event, Nikki and I dressed in our office. Nikki zipped the back of my dress without saying a word about the scars she saw there. She’d moved back in with me a week before and had seen what there was to see, and although I saw the questions in her eyes, she never once asked for more information than I was ready to share.
“You’re starting to show,” she said as she came around to touch the silk of the dress that stretched over my slightly inflated belly.
I smiled, putting a hand over it, the swell small enough to be overlooked by all but the most conscientious. According to the doctor, I was a little over three months pregnant.
“I told my dad about the baby yesterday.”
“Oh, I bet he was excited,” Nikki said, turning so I could zip the strapless, knee-length black dress she’d chosen. She looked amazing, so elegant. Seeing her like this now, it was hard to imagine that a few months ago, she was a hooker working a corner not far from here. It felt good to know I’d helped her. That I made a difference in her life, enough of one that she’d now make a difference in so many more.
“He was. Surprised more, maybe, but also a little sad. He didn’t ask who the father was.” Neither he nor Nikki had. They knew me well.
“Sad why?”
“He won’t be around to see his granddaughter grow up, not physically anyway.”
“Granddaughter?” Nikki asked, raising her eyebrows.
“It’s a feeling, that’s all.” I turned to the mirror, applying mascara. I wore my hair in a simple bun, not feeling much like going to a hairdresser with bodyguards in tow.
Nikki put her arm around my shoulder. “You’ll visit him. It’s better than having her grandfather in prison.”
“That’s true.”
“How much longer with the bodyguards?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He wants me to keep them even after he’s testified and this is all over. I get it. Eduardo is pissed, and I’m an easy target.” I left out the part about my baby becoming an even easier target. I couldn’t think about that. It was too scary.
“I like knowing you’re safe,” she said, smiling. “It’s not so bad.”
No, it wasn’t. At least the two Clay Boxer had left behind were gone. I checked my watch. “We’d better get out there. I want to make sure everything is all set for the silent auction.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
I went out into the hallway and glanced at the stairs leading down to the one room off-limits to everyone but me. I’d cordoned it off with rope tonigh
t and rarely went down myself. Everything was just as it had been that last day. It hurt too much to be there, but it also made me feel like I still had some link to Adam besides the growing child in my womb.
“Ms. Vega, where would you like the chocolate fountain set up?” one of the caterers asked.
I looked around, taking in the beautifully decorated space. It was large and the walls were bare concrete, very modern and industrial. Thick, warm carpets covered the floors and heavy curtains softened the windows. Lighting was dimmed, and it was hard to imagine that, tomorrow, this space would serve as the main sitting area for those who came to take refuge here. The kitchen was just off the space with an opening where coffee and other drinks would be available, but tonight, only champagne flowed. Tonight clientele would be of a different socioeconomic class. They would — hopefully — fund SafeHouse while writing off donations as tax deductions.
“Over there is fine,” I said, pointing to a corner.
I smiled, feeling satisfaction at the large collages of photographs hanging along the walls. They were mine. They were photos I’d taken of the women and children I hoped to help now.
“First guests are arriving!” Nikki sang from behind me, her high heels clicking along on the barren spots between carpets. She handed me a champagne glass. “Sparkling soda. No one will suspect!” She winked at me while taking a large sip of her own champagne.
“You’re a genius!” Reporters would be here as well as guests and for once, I felt like I could use my father’s notoriety to help. The press had promoted the event, and we were expecting a large turnout.
I couldn’t think about the fact that my father wouldn’t be here. Nor could I dwell on Adam. I’d tried to track him down, but he’d disappeared a month ago, not even contacting his uncle, the number of his phone now belonging to someone neither of us knew.
Guests started to arrive and soft music played in the background as people ate and drank, and, I hoped, left large bids at the silent auction. Nikki and I smiled for photographs. She was truly my hero, swooping in whenever I needed her to save me from someone getting a little too nosey for my comfort. I’d lost some of my fight over the last few months. I was much more passive than I had been before Adam. That and more quiet. I’d always been an introvert but had put on a show for most of my life, wanting to fit in, talking to fill the silences where questions could be asked. Now, I let things be.
One thing that surprised me was how many of the friends who hadn’t known me as Manuel Vega’s daughter stuck around. I guess I hadn’t given them enough credit. I realized the only one who cared about who I was, was me.
It was about halfway through the night, just as Nikki stood at the small stage erected for the evening introducing me, that I felt it, the slight shift in the air, the familiar tingling that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turned to scan the crowd, wondering what had made goose bumps rise across my flesh, but only saw a sea of smiling, yet mostly unfamiliar, faces.
“Here she is, the woman who made SafeHouse possible: Ms. Elle Vega.”
Cheers broke out and my heart pounded. I hated speaking in front of large groups. Hated it.
Nikki smiled at me, tilting her head to the side, only warmth in her big eyes. I climbed the stairs, and she hugged me. “You’re going to be fine!”
“Stay with me.”
She rubbed my back and stood beside me as I took the podium, seeing the index cards with my notes stacked in case I forgot anything. As the applause quieted, I cleared my throat to speak.
That was when I saw him.
Adam.
Everything stopped.
My eyes burnt as they connected with his. He stood toward the back, wearing a tux, thick arms folded across his chest. He didn’t smile and didn’t look away. He simply stood, watching me.
Nikki jabbed at my ribs, and I cleared my throat again, glancing at my notes then turning the cards over.
I didn’t need them. I was going to tell a different story.
“Um, good evening, everyone. Nikki and I want to thank each of you for coming tonight, for making SafeHouse a reality for so many who will benefit from its existence.”
I locked my eyes on his while a few people cheered again.
“I want to tell you how SafeHouse came into existence. You see, I wasn’t the original creator. It was a gift passed on to me by someone who put a lot of faith in me. SafeHouse was actually born more than fifteen years ago when a girl named Alessandra Moreno was kidnapped just blocks from her home.” There was an audible sucking in of breath, as if the people who had come, those who now sipped champagne and donated funds in their children’s names, hadn’t realized the reality of it all. Well, I certainly hadn’t, had I?
“She was twenty-four years old when she was taken and sold into sexual slavery, just another anonymous girl lost. I guess she would be considered one of the lucky ones. She escaped her prison. At least for a time. But, within weeks of being returned home, Alessandra Moreno slit her wrists and bled to death in her family’s bathtub.”
Gasps now. Nikki stared at me, wide-eyed.
“The photographs you see around you are all real. They’re all women and children working the streets of our beloved city because they’ve run out of options. Because they’re hungry. Because they can’t feed their own children. Today, with your help, and especially Adam Smith’s vision and generosity, we stand here ready to open our doors and receive them. Ready to take them into our hearts and clothe and feed them. Give them a safe home and help them get back on their feet because I don’t think any of us want to see one more girl bleed out in a bathtub. It’s too late for Alessandra, for so many, but, together, we bring hope to those who have lost it. We bring possibility. We bring a future.”
Cheers broke out, and Nikki touched a tissue to my cheek. I realized I’d been crying.
It was a mere moment that I turned away from him, the briefest of seconds, but when I looked back, he was gone. Had I imagined it? Had my mind played a trick on me?
“I have to —” I sidestepped Nikki and ran down off the stage as the crowd broke up, refilling champagne glasses, probably trying to forget the story I’d just told. I hadn’t intended on telling it, but it had been the right thing to do.
“Adam?” I called out over the noise of the crowd, weaving through, trying to find him, rudely breaking away from anyone who stopped to speak with me.
I was to the door, just having opened it. Nikki came up behind me. “Elle, what is it?”
“He was here.”
“Who?”
I stepped outside, hugging my arms around myself, the night air freezing. I searched both directions, but he wasn’t there.
“Come inside, hon. Come on, you’ll catch a cold.”
Nikki turned me toward the entrance. That was when his voice came. “Elle.”
I stopped, a shudder running through me. Nikki and I both turned. He stood under a street lamp, his dark hair streaked with more gray than I remembered. He was here. He was really here.
“Please help me take her inside. She’s going to catch a cold out here. It’s not good for —”
“It’s you?” I asked.
His gaze never left mine as he moved, one arm closing over my shoulder as he and Nikki ushered me back inside. His hand felt so big and warm around me, his touch electrifying, his presence making me feel safe. Safe. How long had it been since I’d felt safe?
“Your speech,” he began. “It was beautiful. Thank you.”
I smiled. “I wish I’d known more about her life to tell that part, too, not just the end.”
It was like we were the only two in the room, for a moment at least, until Nikki interrupted, confused. “Okay, I’m going to go get us some drinks so you can explain to me who this is.”
But she never got the chance to walk away.
It all happened so quickly then: me in awe of having Adam here, really here. Adam looking down, seeing my belly, his face changing, his eyes meeting mine, the s
urprise in them, all I remembered before Nikki stopped, her mouth opening into an O, her brow creasing. I tried to follow her gaze, but she stepped in front of me, throwing her arms around me. Two pops broke out, people screamed as a window broke, as Nikki fell into me, her eyes wide. I stumbled backward, Adam catching me and then Nikki.
Nikki.
“Nikki?”
“Call an ambulance!”
“Nikki?” Adam laid her down as I knelt beside her, seeing the blood on the soft green belly of my dress, the circle of red widening on hers.
It was her blood.
“Call a fucking ambulance!” Adam jumped to his feet and I heard the sounds of running, of someone being tackled. But I barely glanced away from my friend who lay bleeding before me, too much blood pouring out of her. She’d shielded me. She’d seen the gunman and stepped between him and me. That bullet was meant for me, and she’d taken it.
She’d taken it.
CHAOS BROKE OUT BEHIND me, people running this way and that, women screaming, men cowering, everyone trying to get to the exits. I shoved anyone out who got in my way as I chased the gunman. He was dressed in a suit, his hair short and dark. He ran with the gun in his hand, and I followed. Elle had been the target. She’d been the one the bullet was meant for.
The gunman seemed to know the building. We raced out into a corridor, and he glanced behind him once, aiming the gun and shooting, missing me by inches before running into the stairwell. I followed, pissed I hadn’t brought my weapon tonight.
Too loud feet charged up and up, another bullet ricocheting off the walls. I followed, taking the stairs two at a time, three when I could. The door to the roof opened and I caught it just before it closed, seeing him run to the edge. He tripped; it was my chance. Charging, I slammed into him, knocking the gun from his hand just as another bullet went off. A roar tore from my throat as I fisted his collar and punched him so hard, blood splattered onto my pristine white shirt from his nose. I hit him again, and again.
“Who sent you?”
He was begging for me to stop, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I just kept asking who sent him while beating him to a pulp. His face swelled, and he stopped fighting. The door opened, and men wearing dark suits charged onto the roof. It wasn’t the police but Clay’s men. I recognized them, the way they moved, how they worked.
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