“I wanted to surprise you,” I say, forcing a big smile on my face. I hold my arms out. “Do I get a hug?”
Alexis squeals and leaps forward, crashing into me hard enough to knock me back a few steps. Over her shoulder, I meet Chris’s surprised eyes. I arch a brow in return, then focus on the woman in my arms.
My twin.
She smells like bourbon vanilla and cigarettes. Like sunshine and ocean salt and confidence. I breathe her in, and the connection I’d missed when reading her note explodes inside me. In the strength of her arms, the tears that are falling on my shoulder and down my own face, I feel it. Something deeper than love or affection. Deeper than family.
The bond of blood.
44
There’s a rat in the basement with me. Or maybe it’s an overfed mouse. Whatever it is, it has a busy social calendar. Squeaking and chittering, scrambling along pipes and the bases of walls.
After two days, I finally let go of the fear of being eaten one nibble at a time. The beastie has paid no attention to me, much more concerned with the scraps of stale food and vomit in my vicinity.
“Hey, little guy,” I croak. “What’s your name?”
In the ever-present dimness, I see the dark body still. I hold my breath in anticipation. Eventually, a tail twitch is followed by a squeak.
“I’m naming you Squeaker,” I tell my new friend. “Hello, Squeaker. It’s so nice of you to visit my humble abode. I’ve been very lonely.”
Squeak.
“Sorry about the mess. I haven’t had a chance to clean up in a while. Would you like to hear a story?”
Squeak.
“Once upon a time, there was a bad, bad man. He lied about who he was and tricked people into loving him. No matter how bad he was, there was one girl who believed he could be good…” My voice trails off, even the minimal words taxing my strength.
Squeaksqueak.
I sigh. “That’s all for today. Do come back tomorrow for chapter two.”
Squeak.
45
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting beside Alexis in the back seat of an Uber because Maddoc recently took away her car. Her fifth. Apparently she has a habit of fender benders and forgetting where she parked.
She seems perfectly content to chatter, and I’m perfectly content to listen. As she talks about herself, I experience several odd, dreamlike moments. Moments in which I cannot accept reality. In which I wonder if my life has been an illusion. If I am her. Inside her. Merely a construct of her malformed imagination.
Then I wonder if I’m only having the thought because I saw it in a movie once.
“…and then I said, Whatever, I’ll just Uber around. I think Uber’s gotten a bad rap. I mean, who wants to be in the back of a stinky cab, anyway? They’re providing a service I want, so I’m going to use it! It’s as simple as that. If their CEO’s a dirtbag, who cares?”
“Right,” I murmur, glancing at the young man driving us. He’s rolling his eyes.
“Exactly!” Alexis squeezes my hand, which has been secured in hers since we got in the car. My fingers feel numb, illusory. Am I here?
“I’m so excited, Eden, I can’t even tell you. This is kismet. Do you know what kismet is?”
Yes. I’m here.
I nod, meeting her/my eyes. “Destiny, but I—”
“Isn’t it amazing? I can’t wait to learn everything about you. Do you have a boyfriend? Where did you grow up? What do you do?”
When she pauses long enough that I realize she wants me to answer, I clear my throat. “Well, I just graduated from UCLA. During school I worked as a waitress and in retail. I grew up in a small town in Oregon—”
“Oh no, that must have been horrible. How did you stand all the rain?”
I shrug, having heard the same question hundreds of times since moving to Southern California. “It’s not that bad. Plus, since I grew up there I never really thought of it as abnormal.”
“What was your major at UCLA?”
I’m beginning to get used to her squirrel-like topic hopping. “Biology. I’m going to med school next year.” I hope.
“Whoa, you must be super smart,” she whispers teasingly. “I hated school. So boring.”
I make a noncommittal sound. “What do you, um, do?”
She waves her free hand. “A little of this, a little of that. Daddy has a few restaurants and businesses in the city. I’m thinking about taking one of them over. Maybe when I turn thirty.” She giggles. “Although I’ll probably be married by then.”
Before I can consider the wisdom of asking, I blurt, “Who’s your fiancé?”
She gives me a confused look. “How should I know? But I’m hoping my future husband is hot, built, and loaded.”
What the hell?
My head-to-mouth filter wheezes and dies. “So you’re not marrying Liam Rourke?” I snap.
Alexis gapes. “What? No!” She shudders. “That guy is a total freak of nature. He’s into some weird shit. Besides, Daddy would never allow it. Liam’s father and Daddy have a huge beef. Like a thirty-year-old hatred of each other. How do you even know Liam?”
I have no idea how to respond. To any of it.
“I, uh, heard a rumor,” I hedge, glancing out my window so she can’t see my expression.
She squeezes my hand. “Figures. Lies are more prevalent than smog in L.A. Almost everything and everyone in this town is a lie. You can’t trust anyone.”
My brows jump at the sudden shift in her personality from bubbling to morose. I turn to look at her, but she’s staring out the window just like I was a second ago. Gazing at her profile, shadowed and illuminated in turn by passing lights, a vague sense of unease curls through me.
Who are you, Alexis Sharpe?
We don’t speak the rest of the drive, which ends outside a luxury condominium complex in Beverly Hills. The second the car stops, Alexis is out the door. I thank the driver and follow her across the sidewalk, past a doorman who does a double take at us, across a sumptuous lobby and into a mirrored elevator.
As the doors slide closed, Alexis looks at our reflections. “Whoa. That’s so trippy.” She scans my body, a twinkle in her eyes. “If you had a tan and more highlights, we could totally do The Parent Trap routine.”
Looking at the two of us side by side, I see the proof of her words. Besides hair color and skin tone, the only distinguishing characteristic between us is my visible freckles. Freckles that would fade beneath a tan. Again, I have that amorphous sense that I’ve stepped outside reality.
The elevator ascends all the way to the top. Penthouse. Of course. With a shy smile, Alexis leads me across a small foyer and unlocks the front door. She flips on some lights, then kicks off her shoes and saunters toward a full kitchen. I deposit my sandals beside hers and follow, pausing to take in the massive, loft-like space.
“…decorator picked everything out. Are you creative? I’m not. The walls would probably still be white if I hadn’t hired someone. Do you like it?”
I blink to clear my mental fog, focusing on Alexis pouring red wine into glasses. The fall of liquid mesmerizes me.
“Hey, Eden, you okay?”
I return to the present. “Yes. I, uh… I’m really tired.”
Shocked.
Afraid.
Potentially having a schizophrenic break.
I clear my throat. “I drove all the way from Oregon today.”
Is it still today?
Alexis frowns in concern. “You poor baby. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed. It’s probably easier for me, since you’re in my world. I’m sure I’d be wigged out if I ran into you in Oregon.”
“Yeah,” I say weakly, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as a wave of vertigo overtakes me.
Alexis puts the wine bottle down and hurries to my side. “Hey, you’re really pale. Come on, let’s get you to bed. We’ll have all the time in the world tomorrow to catch up.”
I don’t argue. Mental and physical exhaustion wei
gh on me like an anvil. I try to remember the last time I ate and can’t. Goose bumps prickle along my body as Alexis guides me down a hallway to a closed door.
“This is the guest bedroom, but it’s fully stocked since my girlfriends stay over a lot.”
I barely notice the room as I cross toward the beckoning bed. As I fall toward a pillow, I wonder if I’m safe. I must say it aloud, because I feel a soft touch on my hair.
“You’re safe, Eden. Rest.”
I’m gone.
Empty.
Lost.
46
For ten blissful days, my sister and I share a home. Meals. Hair products. Makeup. Shopping trips. Massages, mani-pedis, facials. Afternoons on the beach. Evenings on the couch, our feet side by side on the coffee table, a movie muted or paused on the television while we expose our minds to one another. Our inner selves. Our twinned souls.
We’re not opposites, like Liam said. Not quite. Instead, we’re like two pieces of an incomplete puzzle. Separate, patterned and colored differently, but we still fit seamlessly together even if the rest of the pieces are missing, the bigger picture unknown.
On our first day together—after I slept for fourteen hours, stuffed my face, and rehydrated—I quickly learned that Alexis isn’t the woman she shows the world. When we’re alone, her mask drops. Her vocabulary expands. She doesn’t giggle as much, or flip her hair, or wear makeup. She’s not superficial, stupid, or narcissistic.
She’s perceptive and cunning. Intelligent and surprisingly philosophical. But also innocently optimistic. She believes in fate. That people are essentially good. That our father lives his life the way he does because of the necessity for darkness to balance the world’s light.
On our tenth day together, as we watch the sunset through the penthouse windows, I ask her if she’s ever thought of leaving.
She sighs. “I know he isn’t a good man, Eden. Even though he was strict and protective of me growing up, I saw things. Heard things.” She shrugs a little, turning toward me. “But he’s my dad. I love him. And I think you will too, once you get to know him.”
The boundaries of my Self blur, shift, then sharpen. So many questions bead on my tongue. So much longing for the truth. Where’s Liam? Where’s Elizabeth? Who do I trust?
I think I trust Alexis. Do I trust her? My recent past isn’t exactly overflowing with instances of good judgement. I haven’t told her about Chris’s threat, what I found in our mother’s safety deposit box, or the text message telling me to stay away from her.
I’d trusted Liam, but obviously that had been a mistake. Does he know where I am? Does he care? At the thought of him, my heart burns. Aches and folds into itself. Where are you, Liam?
“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” asks Alexis softly.
I sigh past the tightness in my chest, briefly wishing I hadn’t told her all the dirty details of what went down with Liam. “I just don’t know why he lied.”
She hums in sympathy. “Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”
I glance sharply at her. “Like what? That he just wanted me gone? Seems a little elaborate.”
“Men like Liam feed off control. They don’t play the game with us mortals. They create the game board. Sometimes they like to flip it upside down and watch us fall.”
Her poetic musings familiar to me by now, I merely nod. “Maybe. Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
She turns to stare at the darkening sky. “A few years ago, I had a giant crush on Liam.” At my glance, she smiles. “I think it was more about him being so forbidden than anything else. I knew he was a regular at Crossroads, so for about a month, I stalked that place trying to get close to him. This was before Chris’s promotion in the… organization. He was mine back then, had to do whatever I said. Oh, he was so pissed when I kept dragging him to the club.” She chuckles. “I’ve never seen him so uncomfortable, before or since.”
I hide my flinch by crossing my arms over my chest. The way Alexis talks about Chris… she cares about him. A lot. Maybe even loves him.
I have no idea how to reconcile her adoration of him with the evil asshole who threatened to rape me. So whenever he comes up, I shove the issue down with all the rest of my Think About Later problems.
“Did you find him? Liam?”
Alexis nods, a shadow crossing her expression even as she winks at me. “Let’s just say I’m not down for dominance. And before you ask, no, I didn’t sleep with him. He taught me a very public lesson about overstepping boundaries. I think that’s why Chris hates him so much.”
“What did he do?” I make myself ask.
She turns toward me, leaning a shoulder on the glass. “Tell me, Eden, what would you have done if Liam walked up to you and told you to get on your knees in front of a crowd of people.”
I don’t say anything, the answer written on my face.
Alexis nods, smiling softly. “I understand. Intellectually, at least. The freedom of giving up control. But therein lies the problem. I don’t have any control to begin with. It’s what I want, not what I want to give up.”
Adrenaline whispers along my limbs. This is the closest she’s come to admitting she’s not happy. That she wants a different life.
My sister. My complicated, funny, wise-beyond-her-years sister. If there’s even a fraction of a chance I can save her, I have to try.
“I know you love Maddoc—our father,” I begin hesitantly. “I know you’re loyal to him. But I think you also know that as long as you’re here, you won’t have control. You’ll marry who he tells you to marry. You’ll keep seeing and hearing things that darken your spirit.” I reach for her, grabbing her hand, and wait for her eyes to meet mine. “I won’t lie—freedom can be scary at times. Being responsible for your own life, your own choices and mistakes… But you don’t have to stay. I’m telling you, Alexis. Believe me, please. You don’t have to stay.”
“What are you saying?” she whispers.
I open my mouth to tell her the truth.
The front door crashes open, slamming against the wall. Alexis and I jerk in place, clutching one another, as six armed men in black fatigues spill into the room. They move fluidly, professionally, and wear earpieces and bulletproof vests.
The central figure walks toward us as the others jog down hallways, kicking open doors and shouting, “Clear! Clear!”
“Who the fuck are you?” snarls Alexis.
The unsmiling man reaches up, and we both flinch. Velcro rips to expose a badge on his vest.
FBI
“We have a warrant for the arrest of your father, Maddoc Donnelly.” Dark eyes veer to me, but show no sign of surprise. “Eden Sumner, I presume? Have you seen Maddoc recently?”
Alexis’s nails dig into my forearm. “Don’t answer that,” she snaps, then glares at the man. “I want to see the warrant allowing you access to my apartment, and I want to call my lawyer.”
47
My coffee is cold, the creamer congealed on the top like a pale oil stain. Sitting across the metal table from me is Special Agent David Hernandez, the same stern-faced man who’d given Alexis the warrant paperwork and suggested we voluntarily accompany him to FBI headquarters.
While Alexis shouted about our rights and told him where to shove it, I’d walked across the room to get my purse.
“Eden, what the fuck are you doing?”
The horror and betrayal on Alexis’s face is seared into my eyelids. Her expression will haunt me for the rest of my days.
Like he can read my mind, Hernandez says, “You told your sister, ‘I’m freeing us.’ Are you willing to elaborate?”
I drag my gaze from the table to his face. “Before I say anything, I want protection for my sister. Immunity, whatever. She isn’t a part of Maddoc’s world—not like that.”
He sighs. “Unfortunately, Eden, that’s not on the table. Not only do we have hard evidence to the contrary, we have sworn testimony from several witnesses that Alexis is very much invol
ved in Maddoc’s business.”
My vision sparkles. “You’re lying,” I rasp.
He glances down at the folder before him. “On November 8, 2016, Alexis Sharpe was an accomplice in the murder of Steven Adams, a businessman with ties to Maddoc Donnelly. Three witnesses watched her stand beside Christopher Daley and give the order to execute Adams with a shot to the back of the head.” Closing the folder, he sits back in the chair to give me a level stare. “So, Eden, you were saying?”
That was last year—we were twenty-two years old. I was finishing my degree at UCLA, and Alexis was… was… A scream of incoherent protest claws against my tongue. I swallow it back, closing my eyes until the urge passes. When I open them, Hernandez is still staring at me.
“I know this is a lot to take in. I also know that you just recently met your twin for the first time. Have you met your biological father?”
“No,” I whisper.
He nods. “I’m going to be straight with you, Eden, so you’ll be straight with me. Two weeks ago, we received an anonymous tip that led us to an abandoned house outside your hometown of Philomath, Oregon. We found a USB drive with enough evidence on it to put Maddoc Donnelly away for a long, long time. Now I need you to be straight with me—do you know anything about that?”
Liam.
With every fiber of my being, I know this is his doing. How the hell did he figure it out?
“Meddling motherfucker,” I mutter, slumping in my chair.
Hernandez’s brows go up. “I’m sorry?”
I shake my head, my mind racing. What if my mother was right, and I can’t trust law enforcement? What if anything I say will end up in Maddoc’s ear?
My inner conflict must be clear on my face, because Hernandez says, “I’ve been working to bring the Donnellys to justice for over five years, Eden.”
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