by Amy Olle
He grasped the car door for balance. She approached him cautiously, and his grip on the door tightened as memories of the last time they’d spoken flooded his mind. He wanted to flee, or be sick.
Instead, he thought of Prue.
Then he drew in a deep, fortifying breath and closed the car door. Maybe if he forced himself to look her in the eye, and finally confronted the righteous anger and betrayal, The Fear might lose some of its power over him. He wanted to try, at least, for Prue’s sake.
Or maybe he was just a masochist.
Either way, he turned toward Lauren.
“Hi,” she said softly.
Though still pretty, she wasn’t as sparkly as he remembered. She wore little makeup, and no artificial color lightened her hair. She was older, sadder, and, in every way that mattered, still the woman he’d loved once.
“Hi.” He cleared his throat. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” She rubbed a hand on the thigh of her blue jeans, then snuck a glance over her shoulder to the driver of the car. “Good. I’m good.” She pushed her thumb at the car. “That’s Brian. My husband. We married this summer.”
“Congratulations,” Leo said, and meant it.
Her eyes skipped around, jumping from the car to the tree to the ground, and finally to his face. “Leo, I….”
Inwardly, he braced for her anger.
Her gaze fixed on his face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The air leaked out of him and he dropped his head. “Me, too.”
“I should’ve listened to you.” Her voice started to tremble. “When you asked me not to go back there.”
“Lauren, don’t. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The shaking in her voice moved to his hands. “It was my fault. I didn’t do my job. I didn’t protect you.”
“You did.” Her forehead crinkled. “Don’t you remember?”
He frowned at the ground. In all honesty, he didn’t want to remember.
“That day, you told me it wasn’t safe to go into the city. You told me, but I didn’t listen—” Her voice broke.
He dragged her into his arms. “Please, don’t blame yourself.” He propped his chin on top of her head. “I can’t take any more misery.”
Shudders trembled through her, but then he felt her muscles relax. “I won’t if you won’t.”
Releasing her, he returned his hands to his pockets.
She twisted her hands in front of her. “I know I said awful things to you.”
“Lauren—”
“I didn’t mean them, even then. I was just so mad and sad.” She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. “I should’ve told you that I didn’t really believe it was your fault, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.”
The hammering of his heart echoed in his ears.
“I think I thought if I could convince myself everything was your fault, then it couldn’t be mine, you know?”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He couldn’t bear the anguish. “It was war, and war is always unpredictable. And it always sucks.”
Her eyes were huge in her pale face, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please forgive me.”
“Done.”
A soft laugh trickled from her. “Leo, I’m serious.”
“So am I. Jesus, Lauren, we’d just lost Rose, and I know as much as anyone what you were going through. So maybe you acted less than perfect.” He lifted his shoulders and dropped them heavily. “You were mad and you wanted someone to blame. I get that. I do.”
“You didn’t deserve it.”
With her words, something released inside him and soared.
The sensation brought a wry smile to his lips. “Whether you blamed me or not, I’m not sure I would’ve believed any differently.”
Between them, a comfortable silence arose, and when she lifted her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, the diamond on her left ring finger glinted in the sunlight.
“Where did you meet Brian?” he asked.
“At work.” She smiled. “He’s the weatherman. What about you? Is there anyone?”
“Yes.” The word emerged of its own accord.
“I’m glad.” Her smile turned a little sad, but it remained genuine. “I didn’t think I’d be able to love anyone ever again, not after losing her, and you.”
Suddenly, his lungs seized.
His throat worked with his dry swallow. “How did you do it?”
He held his breath while he waited for her answer, because quite literally, his life depended on what she would say. Either he had a future or he didn’t, and it surprised him to realize how much he cared which one it was.
She appeared to chew on his words. “I don’t know. I used to cry all the time. Every day. But then I met him and… I cried a little less. Then, when I was with him, I could think about something other than her.”
“And now?”
“Now I want to try to be happy. For him. With him. Some days it’s hard, but…” Her shoulders rose and fell. “He makes me happy.”
Her words momentarily stunned him. Was it that simple?
A part of him grasped the truth in what Lauren had said. Prue made him happy, and every time Leo thought about her, the happiness grew. Like a snowball rolling downhill, it steadily increased in size and momentum.
After telling himself a million lies, did it all come back to that one simple truth?
She’d come to him in his darkest hour, and maybe it needed to be so dark so that her star might shine bright enough for him to recognize it. So that her light might help him navigate his way out of the darkness. She was more than a bright star, or even the brightest. She was his whole damned sky.
When he’d finished with Claymore and the others, he would go to her, and maybe she could find a way to forgive him one last time.
Before he left, he shook Brian’s hand and hugged Lauren. He returned to Rose’s grave to tell her again how much he missed her and that he loved her, and then he climbed into his vehicle.
Owen had texted him an address, and Leo headed in that direction. He arrived at an office building and went to the front door, only to find it was locked.
Working through Claymore’s contacts within US intelligence, they’d filed a complaint about Aron King, which had rocketed up the chain of command. Today they were meeting with a senior official within the FBI to turn over the evidence that Prue had uncovered about King and his co-conspirators.
After the meeting, he hoped to be able to tell Prue that all her hard work had paid off, and that King’s downfall was all but assured. He hoped it might make her happy.
That he might make her happy.
His phone rang and he accepted Claymore’s call.
“Change of plans,” Claymore barked. “King slipped by me.”
Alarm stole through Leo as a vehicle pulled into the parking lot and eased up to the building. “You have no idea where he is?”
“We’re on it,” Claymore said, his voice strained. “Can you take the meeting with the Feds and fill us in later?”
Owen climbed from the car and approached Leo, who was too busy quietly panicking to give a fuck about the angry scowl on his friend’s face.
“No, I’m going to help.” Leo’s tone left no room for debate. “Tell me what to do.”
“Owen’s checking on his sister while I deal with King,” Claymore said.
The Fear snaking through Leo’s gut constricted. “Owen’s standing right in front of me.”
“Where’s his sister?”
Leo angled the phone away from his mouth. “Is Prue with you?”
“No.” Owen frowned. “She’s at work. Why?”
In Leo’s ear, Claymore interjected, “Tell him to check his fucking messages.”
“Call her,” Leo said. “Make sure she’s okay.”
His head bent over his phone, Owen growled, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“King shook them,” Leo said, his mouth filling with sand.
“Whe
n?” Owen pressed the phone to his ear.
“How long have you been looking for him?” Leo asked Claymore.
“Not long. Fifteen, twenty minutes.”
Owen grimaced. “She’s not answering her cell. Hold on, let me call her work number.”
It took everything Leo had to hold his panic in check.
“Hey, Amanda. It’s Owen. Can I talk to Prue for a minute?” Owen’s gaze snapped to Leo’s face. “When did she leave?”
Claymore cursed.
“Did she say where she was going? That’s okay. Thanks anyway.” Owen yanked the phone from his ear. “We gotta find her. Now.”
Leo was already moving.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Prue reread Owen’s email.
Hey sis,
It isn’t safe for you to stay at work. Get out as soon as you can and head home. I’ll meet you there to explain what’s going on.
With clumsy hands, she called a cab service and typed an email to Amanda, who wasn’t at her desk, to let her know she had to leave work early. Then she lurched to her feet and fled the building.
On the cab ride into Boston, Prue wondered why Owen hadn’t called her cell phone to deliver such an urgent message, until she remembered her service was often spotty inside the Institute’s steel and concrete structure. He’d probably wanted to make sure she received his warning. Not to mention, wherever he was, he likely couldn’t talk openly.
Whatever his reason, she was just relieved she’d received his message and got out before anything bad happened.
Through the cab’s window, she watched the cityscape pass by and tried to calm herself. Her entire body trembled with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, and the heavy weight of despair pressed down on her. In the past month, she hadn’t so much as contemplated Aron King and his shady dealings. She’d hoped in surrendering her mission, the danger had passed, and the fact that it hadn’t sent a wave of dismay rushing forward to drown her.
She wished Leo were there, because she’d never felt so scared and hopeless when she was with him. Would she live the rest of her life in fear? Did Leo ever wonder if she were safe?
Had he found her laptop? What had he thought about her leaving it behind? Did he even notice?
Had Owen ever called her “sis” before?
The cab eased up to the curb and she climbed from the car. Fear nipping at her heels, she scrambled up the front steps to her apartment and ducked inside the building. She pounded up the stairs, but when she hit the landing, her feet skidded to a stop—along with her heart.
Aron King stood at her apartment door.
“Now that’s a good girl.” A cruel smile curled his mouth. “You obey better than my dog.”
Shock held her immobile while her mind reeled. It was a setup. Aron had sent that email, not Owen, her brother who never called her “sis.”
She choked back a cry and twisted away to flee back down the stairs, but a hand came down around her face. Large and gloved, it clamped tight over her mouth to muffle her scream, which died in her throat completely when fingers pinched her nose closed.
Her captor’s hot breath slithered over her skin as he hauled her down the hallway to Aron.
Panic gripping her, she shook her head, desperate for air.
“Shhhh. Calm down,” Aron soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to talk.”
With a punishing jolt, the man shoved her face-first into the door. “Open it.”
She gasped, sucking in a lungful of oxygen. Through her terror, her mind scrambled, searching for a way to escape. In her hesitation, the hand clenching her neck compressed.
Shaking with icy fear, she fumbled to fit the key in the lock. When the door finally gave, he thrust her ahead of him into the apartment and she jerked around as they closed her in.
The other man stood at least a foot taller than Aron, with cropped hair and cold, dead eyes. Immediately, she recognized them as the same emotionless eyes as her attacker.
Her gaze swung to Aron, who stalked slowly toward her. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, you know that?”
Fear stole her voice and she backed away, her gaze darting between the two men.
“I thought I made myself clear, but you couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Aron hunted her deeper into the room, and she focused solely on him. “You had to keep provoking me.”
“Watch your nuts, man,” her attacker warned as he moved around the room, searching for something. “She sure likes ’em. Crazy bitch.”
Prue came up hard against the door leading onto the balcony. Anger churned in Aron’s eyes, belying his cool pretense, as he pursued her until his body nearly pressed against hers. Then he reached up, and she strained her head to one side to evade his touch.
“Is this what you wanted?” His cold fingers caressed her cheek and her stomach pitched. “A little attention from me?”
She shook her head.
He grasped her face and the bite of his fingers stung her flesh. “I might’ve been able to forgive you, but then you had to go and try selling your crazy lies to the Feds.”
“I didn’t.”
The back of his hand cracked into her cheek and her head snapped around with the force of the blow. She crumpled over but made no noise because the hit had robbed her of breath.
Her attacker was speaking again, and Aron turned his head to say something. His voice sounded far away.
Dazedly, she twisted around, and her fingers moved clumsily over the balcony door latch. The glass door pulled open and hope took flight when she stepped a foot outdoors.
Aron’s cruel laughter rang in her ears when he clamped his arm around her waist and hauled her back inside the apartment. Her head foggy, she couldn’t recall a single defensive tactic Leo had showed her, so she thrashed her arms and legs wildly. He cursed, and when his hold on her weakened, she lunged for the balcony door.
With a series of short, hammering footsteps, he chased her down. He clutched a fistful of her hair and wrenched. She cried out when she fell back against him.
“Did you find it?” His yell boomed in her ear.
From the other room, her attacker roared back. “Fuck. No!”
Just then, through the balcony door, a sudden burst of movement erupted. Her brain grappling to make sense of what her eyes saw, Prue blinked.
Leo crouched on the balcony railing, a hockey stick braced across his knees. With the light-footed stealth of a cat, he landed both feet on the balcony floor and slipped inside the apartment.
Aron stilled, though his chest heaved with his laborious breathing from their struggle.
Was it really him, or was she imagining him there? Clean-shaven, and with his hair cut close to his head? Wearing dark gray suit pants and a crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck?
What the…?
“Take your hands off her,” Leo said, a lethal edge to his voice. “Now.”
“This doesn’t concern you, Nolan.”
It made no sense that he was there, and yet, he was. She didn’t know how, but once again he came when she needed him. He came even though she never called him. Tears prickled behind her eyes.
Leo’s gaze remained fastened on Aron’s face. “Let her go. I’m not going to say it again.”
With Aron’s sharp movement, something cold and hard bit into the side of her neck.
Leo, who had been creeping toward them, froze. His gaze sliced quickly behind them, then back to Aron.
“You’re outnumbered,” Aron said smugly.
A muscle along Leo’s jawline twitched. “You’re a dead man.”
Aron tugged on her hair to expose her throat.
Fear speared her, and Leo’s name fell from her lips as a terrified whisper. For the first time since appearing, his eyes met hers. Amidst the glittering green and gold, an inner light that she didn’t recall ever seeing before gleamed. She tipped her head, wondering at the look.
There was no panic
or fear, only a steady calmness when the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. “No more fear, Prue.”
Her pounding heart tripped as understanding slammed into her, and at the calm strength in his eyes, she almost wasn’t afraid when she struck.
In one motion, she captured Aron’s wrist while she wrenched back his thumb and twisted away from him. Leo bellowed, and then everything seemed to happen at once.
She took Aron’s feet out from under him with a messy rendering of the leg-sweep Leo had tried to teach her, except she ended up on her backside on the floor along with him. From her horizontal vantage point, she watched the blade of Leo’s hockey stick catch her attacker’s face on the upswing even as more men burst into the room through the front door and balcony. In the chaos that followed, Leo pounced on Aron and then another man landed flat atop Leo. That man, who Prue didn’t recognize, threw a savage, well-placed punch and Aron’s body went limp.
Leo squirted out from between the men and clambered across the floor on his knees to reach her side.
“Where are you hurt?” His hands rushed over her body, searching for injuries.
“I’m okay.” She caught one of his wrists. “I’m not hurt.”
His chest heaving, a sob wrenched from him and his gaze latched onto her face. Lightly, his fingers touched the sore spot on her cheek and for a moment, there was no wall or invisible barrier shutting her out.
Hence she experienced the full force of the black storm cloud that swept across his features. “Why in the hell did you do that?”
With a groan, she sat. “You told me to.”
“No, I absolutely did not.”
“Uh-huh. You said, ‘No more fear, Prue.’ I thought that was my cue.”
“Your cue to do what? Get yourself killed?”
“To use my training.”
On a curse, he dragged her to his chest. “No. Jesus, no.”
He held her so tightly she might’ve protested if she didn’t love the feel of his arms around her so much.
Then the most unexpected thing happened.
He laughed. It started in his chest as a soft rumbling, but then it built and finally burst from him. A real, out loud, heartfelt laugh.
She laid her head against his chest and let the sound of his laughter melt away the fear that wanted to crush her.