“More or less. I hired him as my driver after I graduated college. It was easier for my commute to work. I had just bought my first publishing company and I was putting in a lot of hours and having a driver just made sense.”
“When did he go from driver to bodyguard?”
“After I made my first ten million. I received a few threats and my parents suggested that it was time to hire a bodyguard.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“You were so young,” I observe.
“I’ve always been motivated. I go after what I want.”
“The threats didn’t deter you?”
“No. Never.” His words are resolute and his response immediate.
A moment of silence passes between us before we refocus our gaze on the monitor. Just then a hint of recognition flashes before my eyes and everything about it gives me PTSD. My body goes rigid and my heart is beating so fast I struggle to breathe.
Lucian stands, racing to the sofa in his office, then he lays me flat on my back
“Avery!” Lucian shouts.
My hands clutch my chest as my head spins. The darkness tries to steal me away, but Lucian’s voice keeps me in the light.
“You have to try to control your breathing.”
I try to focus, but the pounding in my chest deafens me.
“You’re having a panic attack. Take slow deep, breaths. Try to calm down and remember that it’s not real. Remember that you’re home with me. You’re safe, Avery.”
Lucian’s words begin to calm me, slowly returning my breathing to normal. I try to sit up, but Lucian’s hand on my shoulder urges me back down. My thoughts become clearer and I know what I saw can’t possibly be real. But somewhere deep in my subconscious I know that it is. For weeks I’ve had this uneasy feeling, plagued by fear and anxiety. This time when I attempt to sit up, I don’t let Lucian stop me.
“I need to be sure.” Standing on petrified legs, I walk over to Lucian’s desk.
“Sure of what.” His voice is choked with worry. “Did you see something on the video?”
“Not something. Someone.”
Rounding the desk, Lucian stands over my shoulder as I rewind the video. Pausing the video, I capture the image. Its grainy, but once again recognition causes my body to recoil.
“Who is he?”
I look up at Lucian, my lover, my dragon slayer, and my bringer of light, with tears flowing from my eyes, blinding me. I open my mouth, but the name is trapped in my throat. The name I have refused to say for ten years.
Tate Sullivan.
Chapter 10
Lucian
I stare at the image on the screen, waiting for Avery to tell me what has upset her. But the devastated expression on her face and her inability to speak has me contacting Carter for answers. Lifting Avery from the chair, I take the vacant seat, holding her on my lap.
Speed dialing Carter, he answers on the second ring.
“I’m sending you a photo right now. Run it through facial recognition. I need to know everything you can find out in the next fifteen minutes,” I say without preamble.
Dropping the line, I focus my attention on Avery and wait for Carter to return my call. Avery is inconsolable, and I feel helpless to do anything about it. Waiting feels like a death sentence, as the seconds and minutes seem endless. I wrack my brain trying to figure out why the blurry image of the man outside Thorne Tower would upset her. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Is it possible that the man is her adoptive father? The same man who is also my biological father. I never wanted to know what he looks like, so I’ve never seen as much as a photo of the sonofabitch. The media did not release a photo of him. But now I wish they had, if only to be able to spare Avery this torment. I stroke her hair and down her back. She shudders against my chest, crying quietly.
My iPhone rings and I answer on the first ring. “What do you have for me?” I bark, anxious to know who and what we’re dealing with.
“I was able to obtain a partial match from the U.S. Customs data base. He entered the country two months ago with a U.S. passport that identifies him as Philip Hunter. He has been living in Europe for the past ten years. Ireland specifically.”
“Send me a copy of the passport photo.”
“Sending it now.”
I tap my finger, impatiently waiting for the email. The image appears on the screen after a few seconds. The man in the photo has copper brown hair and green eyes. Avery leaps from my lap, running away from the image.
“That’s not Philip. That’s...” Avery’s voice is choked, straining to speak. I’m afraid she is having another panic attack. She begins pacing back and forth. And my fucking world shatters as realization deals a blow to my heart, crushing it.
With my eyes fixed on Avery, I instruct Carter to access the DMV record for both Philip Hunter and Tate Sullivan to compare photos. I also order a thorough investigation into whomever entered the country two months ago. We need proof to get the body exhumed. If Sullivan is not in that grave, I’m sure I know who is.
Before I end the call, Avery is bolting from my office. Racing after her, I catch up to her in our bedroom. She’s inside her closet, sitting on the floor. With shaky hands she attempts to open a compact combination style safe. On the third try she is successful, retrieving a handgun from the safe. Avery told me she had a handgun when she moved in, but until now I had never seen it. The Glock 26 Gen4 is perfect for conceal and carry. I watch as her hands become steady, holding the gun. With the Glock firmly in her right hand, she inserts the magazine. Avery wraps her free hand around the top of the gun, tightly pulling the slide back until it stops. She lets go of the slide quickly, allowing it to move forward, she has effectively loaded a round into the chamber. Fully loaded, the Glock is now ready to fire. I glance inside the safe to see two additional magazines holding ten rounds each for a total of thirty rounds.
Avery stands with confidence. Her tears have stopped, and her head is held high when she steps out of the closet. With the gun in her hand, she walks over to the bed and places it in the drawer of her bedside table.
Facing me, Avery looks me in the eye and says. “I think he killed Philip.”
I nod in agreement. Taking her hand, I urge her to sit on the bed with me.
“Once Carter completes his investigation we’ll know more,” I say, stating the obvious. I’m at a loss as to how to comfort her. She is eerily quiet. Her tears have stopped, and she appears calm and steady. I can only imagine what she must be feeling. What she must be thinking.
“I’ll keep you safe,” I vow. “He’ll never hurt you again.”
“And who will keep you safe?
Avery’s question catches me off guard. And I have no answer for her.
“I know we’ve discussed it before, but perhaps it’s time we reconsider.” I stare at her, unsure where this is leading.
“Reconsider what exactly?”
“I don’t want you to die for me.” Avery’s voice is a choked whisper. “I think we should breakup.”
“I may be able to wrap my mind around letting you go if I thought it was the best thing for us. But my heart and body will never go along with that. I won't survive losing you.”
“You’ll live. You’ll be alive.”
“No, I won’t. I told you once, I’d die without you.”
“I’m afraid he’s trying to kill you to get to me.” Avery refuses to speak the name of the sonofabitch who is recently back from the dead.
I will admit that it fucked with my head when she identified the man on the surveillance footage as Tate Sullivan. And since I don’t believe in coincidences, I’m positive he’s responsible for the limo explosion that landed Franklin and I in hospital.
“We’ve made a vow to face whatever lies ahead together. Are you saying we’re not strong enough to get through this?”
Avery stands, pacing back and forth, before stopping to face me.
“Do you understand that
it’d destroy me if something were to happen to you and I’m responsible. Don’t make me live with that heartbreak and guilt.” Taking a deep breath, then releasing it, she says, “We need to be sensible.”
Standing, I meet her gaze. “What I feel for you isn’t sensible, practical, reasonable or any other synonym you may choose to use. And if you think I’ll ever give you up without a fight, we have a lifetime for me to prove you wrong.”
Avery stares back at me, her eyes filled with intent. She smiles in acquiesces, and I know this is far from over.
“I’m going to try to get some work done. Will you let me know the moment Carter has anything?”
Turning on her heels, Avery leaves our bedroom without waiting for a response or looking back. I stop myself from following her. We both need time to process what is happening. I don’t think her thoughts have move past Sullivan being alive and the fact that he may have killed her adoptive father. My brain, however, is racing with the truth that for the past ten years the sick bastard continued to insinuate himself in Avery’s life by sending her a birthday card every year since fleeing to Ireland. His depraved obsession with her sickens me, igniting a violent uncontrollable anger I didn’t know I possess. I try to calm myself, but the persistent throbbing in my head only fuels my rage further. And the voice in my head yelling, she’s afraid you can’t protect her, does little to quell the overwhelming urge to rip him apart with my bare hands. The thought consumes me, and the idea of Tate Sullivan’s demise at my hand soothes my aching head. Once clarity is restored I call Jake.
Answering on the second ring, Jake greets me cheerfully.
“I need your help. Professionally,” I clarify
The line is silent for a moment and I imagine Jake switching gears from best friend to cutthroat lawyer. And that’s just who I need right now.
“How can I help?”
“Can you start the process to have a body exhumed?”
“Whose body and what’s the reason for the exhumation?”
“Tate Sullivan.” I exhale and tell him the rest. “He has been presumed dead for ten years, yet he shows up on the surveillance video outside Thorne Tower the day my limo explodes. He’s also the goddamn sonofabitch who raped Avery. And I suspect that the body buried in his grave is Avery’s adoptive father.”
“Do you have any proof that the man on the video is Sullivan?”
I can tell by his tone that Jake believes me, but he wouldn’t be the best if he didn’t get the facts.
“Carter was able to match the image to a U.S. passport, belonging the Philip Hunter. However, when Avery saw the passport photo, she confirmed that it is not Hunter. Carter is accessing DMV photos of the two men for further verification.
“Since Avery’s case was closed due to the Sullivan’s death, we have a valid legal reason to request the exhumation. The perpetrator never faced charges because he was presumed dead. Send me whatever evidence you have. And I’ll use it to petition the court to order the exhumation and a second autopsy to confirm identity and cause of death.
“I was thinking we can speed this up by going directly to Judge Preston. He knows the details of Avery’s case and will want to know about Sullivan’s return.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” The line is quiet before Jake asks, “How is Avery handling all this?”
“She believes that breaking up is the answer and that will keep me safe.”
“You quash that bullshit, right. Because if there was ever two people who are better together, it’s you and Avery. Don’t let her push you away.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“I’m going give Delgado a call. Have him check out the coroner who performed the first autopsy.”
“You think there was a cover-up?”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense when I ask myself, why is the wrong man buried?”
I sigh, realizing that the piece of shit Sullivan may still have help, covering up his crimes. I make a mental note to have Carter investigate his family as well.
“How are you feeling?” Jake’s voice is heavy with concern
“I’ve been better,” I hedge.
I’m grateful when Jake doesn’t question me further, choosing instead to wrap up the call. We say our goodbyes and I seek out Avery.
Chapter 11
Avery
My heart races, and trepidation speeds it. I’m not afraid for myself, as that scared fifteen-year-old girl no longer exists. But the thought of losing Lucian petrifies me to my core. I know in my gut I’ve made him a target for the sadistic demon that has come back from the dead. I still can’t wrap my head around seeing him on the video, or the fact he has been pretending to be Philip for the past ten years.
Oh my god! the birthday cards were from him. The knowledge makes me physically ill. Dashing to the bathroom, I relieve my stomach of its contents.
That’s where I am when Lucian finds me, kneeling over the toilet bowl heaving my guts out. He rushes to my side just as I flush away the evidence of my last meal. Standing, I make my way to the sink. I rinse my mouth out and splash cold water on my face. Accepting a hand towel from Lucian, I dry my face before meeting his worried gaze in the mirror.
“I’m okay,” I assure him. “It was just an upset stomach.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod my reassurance. “Have you heard from Carter?”
“Not yet, but I have spoken to Jake. Once Carter forwards him the evidence he’s collected, Jake will get the court order we need to proceed with the exhumation.”
Once the body has been exhumed and autopsied again, what I already know to be true will be proven. The man who held me captive, raping and brutalizing me for weeks, is still alive. What’s more, I’m sure that the man buried in his place is Philip Hunter, my adoptive father, the same man who sold me to the devil to settle a debt.
“How long before we know for sure?”
“Autopsies usually take a few hours to perform. We can have the preliminary results within twenty-four hours. The main purpose is to confirm identity, then cause of death.”
“But a judge has to sign off on the exhumation first. So presumably the entire process could take a few days just to substantiate what we already know?”
“That’s right.”
Leaving the bathroom, Lucian follows me. I pace back and forth. But the nervous habit does little to ease the anxiety I feel. Loading my gun has been the only comfort I’ve felt since seeing the devil’s face.
Lucian’s voice breaks through the wall I’ve started to build around me. Standing directly in front of me, he stops me in my tracks.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” He meets my gaze and I can see that he means every word.
He has vowed to keep me safe, and that should give me some measure of comfort, but it doesn’t. How can I lay that burden on him? How can I put him at risk? And how do I make him see the truth.
For now, living in the moment is all I need.
I wrap my arms around his neck and he engulf me in his embrace. Surrendering to him, I moan when his lips cover mine, savoring the gentleness.
Breaking the kiss, I whisper, “Take me back to bed.”
Scooping me up in his arms, Lucian strides quickly down the hall to our bedroom. He plants me firmly on my feet when we enter the master suite. I waste no time clawing at him, urgently trying to remove his shirt. The need to solidify our bond overwhelms me. Sensing my desperation, Lucian grabs hold of my wrist, stopping me. And the submissive in me yields to him, softening and relaxing against the hard lines of his body.
I stare into his eyes and I want to get lost in the depth of his Mediterranean blue gaze. The yearning I feel is so acute the pain is unbearable.
“I need you,” I murmur. “My body aches to be filled with every inch of you.”
Releasing my wrist, “Rose Petal” is all he manages to say before his mouth seals over mine. Lucian carries me to the bed and without breaking our kiss he expertly rem
oves my clothes. I mourn the loss of his lips when he pulls away to undress himself. I can’t take my eyes off his lean muscular body, from his midnight black hair and chiseled jaw, down to his washboard abs. I love the sight of this man. My center clenches and unclenches, anticipating him. I moan, achingly aware of how good his cock feels buried deep inside me.
Lucian and I spend all afternoon making love. By dinnertime we are famished and exhausted. We barely spoke a word, as we dined on pan-seared salmon with brown butter lime sauce and roasted asparagus. After dinner we relaxed in front of the television. It’s all too obvious that neither one of us are interested in the programming. We both have other things on our minds. And personally, if I’m going to be distracted, Lucian will always be my first choice. An hour later we are at it again. I can’t seem to get enough of him. Every gasp and moan only intensify with each touch. With each thrust of his hips, Lucian drives his cock deeper inside me, filling me so completely. I want to stay wrapped in his embrace forever. I want this always. I want him always.
We collapse, sated in each other arms. Sleep finds Lucian almost immediately. Hours after Lucian had been sleeping peacefully, I feel the tug of exhaustion pull me under.
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES again it doesn’t seem like I’ve been sleeping long, but Lucian is not in bed next to me. Stumbling out of bed, I grab Lucian’s shirt from the floor, and my body reacts to the scent of him. I slide my arms through the sleeves and I imagine him giving me a hug. It’s not as good as the real thing, but it brings a smile to my face nonetheless.
I’m on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water when I hear a loud crash. Without thought I race toward the sound desperate to find Lucian. The wind is knocked out of me, bringing me to a screeching halt. The sight of the three men who altered the path of my life ten years ago has me frozen in place. For a moment I stare witnessing my past and future spiral down a collision course of destruction.
He is the first to speak. And my body recoils from the sound of his voice. The voice that belongs to the darkness in my nightmares. The voice of the devil incarnate.
Inseparable Bond Page 8