by HELEN HARDT
“You’re saying you’ve never killed anyone?” Joe asked.
“No. I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never abused anyone. Never. Not ever.”
“You pepper-sprayed us,” Joe reminded him.
“Self-defense,” Booker said. “You took my weapons.”
“What were you planning, then?” I asked. “Coming after Joe and me? If you’re not a killer, then what?”
“Truthfully? I have no idea. I always thought I’d make you pay somehow. Torture you. Maybe kill you, but I didn’t have anything mapped out. I’ve had vengeance on my mind for so long, I didn’t know what I’d do once I actually had you.”
Cade’s face seemed to morph before my eyes. He was Justin again, nine years old, running from Taylor Johns and the other bullies.
And suddenly everything was clear.
Even his sexual preferences at the club. He couldn’t decide. My father made him the ultimate victim, and that was ingrained in his personality. When he finally got a small taste of freedom, he desperately wanted to break free of the victim role. He toyed with the other side, hoping it would cure him of his victimhood, but inside, he was still a frightened little boy. He’d even created a separate identity—the Spider. The role of switch fit him perfectly.
“You do know, don’t you, that we had no idea what would happen to you on that camping trip?” Joe said.
“Maybe. You were kids. So was I.”
“We were friends,” Joe said. “At least I thought we were.”
I waited for Joe to say more, but he didn’t. How could he? It would mean talking about his leather club affiliation with his little sister present.
“We were never friends. We hardly knew each other.”
“We protected you from Taylor Johns and the others,” Joe continued.
“We don’t have to defend ourselves,” I said to Joe. “We were nine.”
Cade looked to me then, and I couldn’t read his eyes.
“I was watching you. Waiting,” he said. “When your father died, I figured it was time for me to act. He no longer controlled me, so I could finally take revenge. Only I never thought it through. Never thought about how I’d actually take revenge.”
“He’s not a killer,” Colin said. “Despite what he’s been through, he’s not a criminal. Just like I’m not.”
I opened my mouth, but Colin gestured to me.
“I’m not saying what he’s been through and what I’ve been through are equal. He’s had it much worse. I get that.”
I turned to Booker. “Tell us, then. What you’ve been through. How my father continued to control you after he let you go.”
“You can’t,” Colin said. “You can’t ask that of him. It wouldn’t make sense to you anyway.”
“And it makes sense to you?” Joe asked.
“Parts of it. I don’t claim to understand everything, but I understand some.”
Talon.
The name popped into my mind.
Talon might understand.
But Talon wasn’t here. He was in Denver with his sons, and he was living a good and happy life.
I wasn’t about to suggest he be brought into this mess.
“Why are you here, then?” I asked. “If you’re not going to give us the information we want, why?”
“I came to speak to Jade,” Colin said. “To say goodbye, probably forever. Cade and I are going away.”
“Together?”
“Not ‘together’ together. Just as two men who have something in common and need to heal. Far away from here.”
“Why?” Marj asked.
“My therapist suggested I get away, take some time to relax and truly work through what happened to me,” Colin said. “Cade showed up in Glenwood Springs where I was staying, and we talked.”
“You mean he didn’t try to harm you?”
“I thought about it,” Booker admitted. “But Colin was frightened, and when I looked at him…”
He saw himself. He didn’t have to utter the words. It was written in the sunken depths of his eyes. He saw another victim of Tom Simpson.
He saw someone who understood.
Colin continued, “I convinced him to come with me. We can work through this together. My therapist has arranged for us to work with his colleague in Bora Bora. We both have the money to do it. We have a lot in common.”
True. What they had in common was my father.
“And we’re supposed to just let you walk out of here,” Joe said.
“Yeah, you are,” Booker said. “The worst I’ve done is pepper spray the two of you and send some emails.”
“You stalked a little boy on the playground,” Marj reminded him.
“I didn’t stalk anyone,” Booker said.
“So that wasn’t you? You didn’t leave evidence to incriminate your brother, your sister, and Colin?”
“I did,” he said. “I was angry. I was hurt. Yeah, I took the cufflink I’d stolen from Tom the last time I saw him. I took one of my brother’s baseball cards and my sister’s stupid pet rock. I left them there to be found. But I swear I wasn’t there to hurt the kid. I recognized the boy. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
“Right,” Joe scoffed.
“You have no idea. I saw what they did to him. What he went through. They made me…”
“Stop it,” Colin said. “He’s had enough.”
“No way,” I said. “They made you…what?”
“Watch!” Booker raked his fingers through his hair. “They made me watch as they tortured that kid! Is that what you want to hear? You want all the gory details? Because they’re all in my head, like a fucking cinematic masterpiece. Things I’ll never be able to unsee.”
“Easy,” Colin said.
I regarded Booker.
And again, I saw the scared little boy he’d been. Justin Valente, who’d been relentlessly bullied by a prepubescent thug and his band of lemmings thirty years ago.
I’d felt sorry for him then. I’d wanted to help him. So I did what I thought would help. I invited him to go camping with me and my dad. My amazing, great dad.
And I’d made things worse.
So much worse.
I cleared my throat softly. “Joe, we need to let them go.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Please.”
I could have said so much more. That he’d be with Colin, and Colin seemed to trust him. That these two men were my father’s last victims, and I owed them something. That they hadn’t asked for what happened to them, and they were trying to heal. Booker might have been set on revenge, but in his heart, he wasn’t a criminal. I could see it now. I could see it in his eyes. Those sad, sunken eyes.
Joe would balk at that last thing. What did eyes say? Never once had I seen a criminal in my father’s eyes.
Not once.
But my heart, my soul, was telling me to believe Colin and Booker. To give them the benefit of the doubt. They’d both been victims of the man who’d fathered me, and though I wasn’t guilty of anything, I felt some responsibility. I wanted to see them heal. They might see my father when they looked at me, but I wasn’t my father. I knew that now, and I could prove it to his last victims.
Booker would never again be the innocent little boy he once was, but maybe he could live a good life. Maybe he and Colin both could.
Marj took my hand, entwining our fingers together. “I agree with Bryce.”
Joe seethed, his jaw tight and tense.
“Please,” I said. “I can’t erase what my father did to them, but I can let them go in peace.”
Joe raked his fingers through his dark hair. He didn’t speak, but finally, he gave a slight nod.
“I just want to see Jade,” Colin said once more. “Only for a minute. To say goodbye.”
Marj sent a quick text. “She says to go on in. She’s in the bedroom.”
True to his words, Colin didn’t stay inside for long. Within ten minutes, he’d returned.
Marj hugged
Colin.
Booker didn’t hold out his hand. Neither did Joe or I.
Some things were just too hard.
As they walked to their car and then drove away, I kissed the top of Marjorie’s head and whispered, “Vaya con Dios.”
Then my phone buzzed.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Marjorie
Bryce pulled his phone out of his pocket. He showed his phone to Joe.
“Damn.” Joe shoved his hands into his pocket.
“What is it?” I asked.
“We need to get the whole family together. Except for Melanie and the baby. I’ll talk to her myself.”
I gulped. “You guys are scaring me. What is it?”
Bryce pulled me into his embrace. “It’s okay, honey. It’s not bad news.”
I blinked.
Then I blinked again.
No. No. Couldn’t be.
“Motherfucker,” Ryan said slowly.
The boys were outside with the new housekeeper and nanny Talon and Jade had hired. Only the adults sat in the formal living room of the main house.
The adults.
And a ghost.
The ghost of my father.
Sounds buzzed around me. Talon yelling. Ryan yelling. Joe yelling. Bryce trying to calm everyone down.
Then only two words emerged from the cacophony of chaos.
“Baby girl.”
The voice. The voice that had comforted me as a little girl. That had scolded me, told me to work harder. That had apologized for leaving me only months ago. That had uttered its last words in this very house…
Not one word escaped my throat.
Because this wasn’t happening. It just wasn’t.
I couldn’t deal with this. My scar itched and sizzled. Itched and sizzled. Itched and—
Then blackness descended around me.
“I think she’s coming around.”
Gentle hands wiped a cool cloth over my forehead.
“Marj? Honey?”
Bryce. I reached for him.
My rock.
My heart.
My everything.
Bryce would help me. Bryce would tell me I was seeing a ghost and nothing more.
“It’s okay,” he said in a soothing deep voice. “Everything is okay, sweetheart. Can you sit up?”
I nodded and attempted to pull myself up. Where was I? I quickly recognized my bedroom. I’d been in the dining room, hadn’t I? No, the living room. How had I gotten here?
“What happened?”
“You fainted, baby.”
Fainted? I’d never fainted in my life. Fainting was for girls.
“Where is everyone? Tal? Joe? Ryan? Jade?”
“They’re all fine. They’re still here. I told them I’d take care of you.” He smiled. “In fact, I want to take care of you for the rest of your life.”
A proposal? My mind was muddled. Was Bryce proposing to me in my bedroom when I couldn’t yet think straight?
“I…”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“I thought…”
My father.
My father’s body. My father’s face. My father’s voice.
But that was impossible. He was dead.
I’d watched him die in this very house months ago.
“Easy, baby. You okay?”
My head spun a little as I gazed into Bryce’s sparkling blue eyes. Such love was reflected there. Love for me.
I was the luckiest woman in the world.
“My fa… I saw him. I heard his voice.”
“Yes, honey. You did.”
No. Couldn’t be. Couldn’t be.
“I didn’t. I didn’t. He’s dead.”
Bryce cupped my cheek. “He’s alive. And he has a story to tell. But he’s not staying long.”
I melted into Bryce’s arms, tears welling in my eyes.
Should I be angry? Happy? Surprised?
I didn’t know. Myriad emotions bubbled through me, weakening me.
I didn’t like to feel weak.
Weakness was for girls.
Not for a Steel.
“Do you want to see him?”
“Bryce, why? Why would he…?”
“He had his reasons. Again. But the reasons no longer exist. He’ll tell you everything.”
“I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to…”
Didn’t want to what?
I had no idea what I wanted, other than to stay in Bryce’s arms for eternity.
“Sweetheart, I know this is a lot to take. Your brothers all gave him holy hell for this latest escapade, and he admitted to deserving all of it and more. He won’t be here for long.”
“Won’t be here for long?”
“No,” Bryce said. “He turned himself in. He self-surrenders tomorrow.”
I gulped down a sob. “What?”
“He’s ready to pay for his crimes, honey. He worked a deal so Dominic, Alex, and the others won’t be charged. He’s paying for everything he did to cover up the trafficking ring.”
“But he had reasons… He was just…” I stopped, shaking my head. Yeah, he’d tried to protect my mother, but there was no justification for the lengths he’d gone to. No justification for faking his death not once but twice.
Bryce kissed the top of my head. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life.”
“But he’s sick…isn’t he?”
“No, Marj. He’s not.”
So he’d lied about his cancer. About his death. About so much.
But he was my father. The father I’d loved. What was I supposed to feel?
The door creaked open.
“You okay, baby girl?”
His voice. His soothing voice. The voice that taught me right from wrong. The voice that helped me when I needed it, the voice that told me when I didn’t need help and could figure it out on my own.
The voice that had made me strong.
The voice that would be so ashamed if he knew what I’d resorted to…
No. I wasn’t ready.
“Not yet,” I said into Bryce’s shoulder.
“Give her some time,” he said.
The door creaked gently shut.
Crying was for girls.
I didn’t cry.
Give her some time, Bryce had said.
If he was going to prison tomorrow, he didn’t have time. I’d have to suck it up. Talk to him. Yell at him. Tell him he’d fucked up. He’d violated our trust. He’d aided criminals in his attempt to keep our mother safe. Then I’d have to hug him. Tell him what he meant to me. Tell him that I loved him.
“Marjorie,” Bryce said, “listen to me.”
I wiped my nose on his shoulder, looked up, and met his gaze.
“You’re going to have the chance at something you thought was lost to you.”
Yeah. My father was alive. I still didn’t quite know how to feel.
But Bryce continued, pulling a small box out of his pocket. It was black velvet tied with a golden ribbon. “Your father’s attorney already got the warden to agree to a furlough when we decide on a date. If you want, he’ll be able to walk you down the aisle.”
Epilogue
Bryce
Golden.
Everything about this day was golden.
I stood at the makeshift altar in the backyard of the main ranch house. A little over a year ago, I’d been at this same spot as a guest at Ryan and Ruby’s wedding.
Joe stood next to me in a black tux that matched mine. I’d insisted on a tux. A man didn’t marry the classiest woman on the planet in anything but a tux.
Melanie sat with baby Brad, now eight months old, perched on her lap. He was a gorgeous child. His hair was dark like Joe’s, his eyes sparkling green like his mother’s—his mother, who’d been a guide to me, helping me deal with the guilt. Finally, I was ready. Ready to marry the woman of my dreams. Ready to move on with my life—my amazing life.
Talon sat next to Melanie with
Diana Jade in his arms. The baby’s big brothers doted on her. We all hoped she’d sleep through the ceremony.
Ryan and Ruby sat on the other side of the aisle, next to my mother’s empty chair. At Marj’s bridal shower a week ago, Ruby had announced she was expecting. Her pretty face glowed.
Colin had kept in touch with Marj. He and Cade were slowly healing. Ted Morse had tried to reconcile with his son but hadn’t had a lot of luck. None of us were going to put a good word in for him. His wife had left him high and dry in a highly publicized divorce when everything went public after Brad’s incarceration. Losing his money and lifestyle was the ultimate punishment for Ted Morse.
I looked down the aisle at my beautiful little son, his hand tightly in my mother’s. His blondness was so like my own at that age, my mother said constantly. So like mine, and so like…my father’s. We could both say it now without wincing. We didn’t have to banish all the good memories…though I had finally gotten rid of his cherried-out Mustang in favor of a more conservative set of wheels that would keep my family safe.
I’d also worked out a deal with Henry’s mother. Marjorie and I had full custody, but she had visitation rights four times a year. My father had indeed forced her to sign away her rights, and I felt I needed to help make up for that.
My mother had to help Henry get down the aisle. He was nearly two now but still needed Grandma’s assistance so he didn’t drop the rings.
The notes of Mozart’s “Wedding March” from The Marriage of Figaro drifted across the gorgeous evening like the soft melodies of a quartet of songbirds.
I smiled.
My little son, blond and blue-eyed, held on to the gold pillow with both hands as my mother guided him toward me. He smiled when he reached me, and my mother took her seat.
Next came Jade, Marjorie’s matron of honor, in a golden gown.
And then…my love.
With her father. She hadn’t forgiven him yet. None of us had. That would take more time. But she’d allowed him the ultimate honor on this day.
Devastating in ivory, Marj carried a bouquet of her favorite yellow Asiatic lilies. The canary diamond engagement ring—the stone a gift from my mother—sparkled on her left ring finger.
Pure beauty. I’d never quench my desire for her. Day after day after day we’d be together, and my love and passion for her would always be insatiable.