“I did it, Catalina,” he said.
The man she spent the last two days convincing that he was nothing like his father turned out to be a murderer just like him. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her.
She closed her eyes, as if that could help her to isolate herself from his words.
“Leave. Both of you,” she said in a hoarse voice she barely recognized as her own.
But at this moment, she was unable to recognize anything and anybody, unable to think at all. She walked out of the room without looking at either one of them.
CHAPTER 49
During the whole time they had been together, Xan had been expecting Catalina to slowly back away from him when she realized all the differences between them. He had been waiting for her to back down from their relationship when she felt the pressure of her privileged upbringing pushing at her when it collided with the street education he had gained.
Yet she kept surprising him, time after time, by taking his side during all adversities and when people did all in their power to prove to her he was no good for her.
When he finally started to relax and think they could actually make it work, she reached her tipping point and he had only himself to blame. As mad as he was at Florence Bennett, she was nothing but a bearer of bad news.
It was his fault he didn’t share with Catalina the truth about what had happened twelve years earlier. He owed her that much, especially considering what had happened to her parents. But then that was exactly why he kept it a secret, praying it stayed buried in the past.
He should have known better, but how was he supposed to tell her he took a life just like his father, just like the nameless perpetrator who ended her parents’ lives and her happy childhood as well? He didn’t quite figure this one out and it came back to bite him in the ass, like a vicious dog let go of its chain.
The look of betrayal she sent him before turning away was the reason why he did as she asked and left her home instead of trying to explain.
What kind of explanation he could give her anyway?
The facts were merciless, just like the rules running the streets. It didn’t really matter that he had had no intentions of killing the guy, but it came to a very simple reckoning–it was that or dying himself. A no choice situation for someone like him, who had surviving at all costs embedded in his very DNA.
That night ended his freedom even though he had never been charged and sentenced for the crime. But Tony Boden who witnessed it was as harsh and unforgiving as any court would have been, if not more, Xan thought.
He took him in and helped him to develop into the fighter he was today, but at what price? He had no room to breathe, no possibility of leaving the club, because that night when he was sixteen years old had been hovering above his head like a guillotine ready to drop at any moment.
And it finally did, just not how he imagined it would.
He drove without any purpose for an hour, recalling the whole conversation between Catalina and her grandmother.
He had been so wrong about his Kitten this whole time, thinking her life to be so damn easy.
His eavesdropping left no more room for that, stripping his delusions bare.
Just because she hadn’t been raised in poverty didn’t mean she was any luckier than he had been. Maybe a slap to the face was not the same as a fist, as she had pointed out once, but they were just different shades of the same abuse.
Was it why she seemed to understand him so well? He wondered.
He wanted to go back to her more than anything until it morphed into a dull throbbing in his bones, but this one time he had to give her what she asked for without trying to force his way back in.
Xan entered his apartment and memories of Catalina’s visit in the place attacked him as soon as he stepped inside. It didn’t make much sense since she came here only once, but when the heart and brain collided, there was only one winner and it wasn’t common sense as he was learning firsthand now.
He finally couldn’t take it any longer and left the sole place that had ever been his refuge and the only one untouched by all the filth in his life. It still remained the latter but it wasn’t an asylum anymore. He had considered the apartment his home, but now he could clearly see how wrong he had been this whole time.
He didn’t care about those four walls that used to make him feel so proud. He could leave and never come back, but couldn’t imagine walking away from Cat and never seeing her again.
“Fuck!” He snarled.
He felt homesick without her and it was the most dangerous sensation for someone like him who had never really had a home or felt a need for one. She built him up and ruined him at the same time, until nothing more than a husk remained.
He had no idea what or who he truly was, because the only thing he could think about was that without her, he was nothing.
Xan blinked, surprised when he found himself at Kel’s place, but there was literally nowhere else he could have gone. Unless he were to lose fight with himself and decide to pay Tony a visit. But this had to wait because there was a chance, no matter how slight, the son of a bitch was going to get what was coming his way in a legal way, which would be poetic justice if anyone asked him, Xan thought.
He considered the gym, where he could work off some of his frustration, but one glance at his watch told him it was closed and he didn’t have the key. Yet he didn’t mull over the fact that midnight could have been a bad time when he rapped his knuckles against Kel’s door.
“What the hell, Xan? I could have had company,” Kelton muttered, opening the door.
His grumpiness aside, he didn’t seem like someone heading toward bed, Xan noticed. But he knew that nights weren’t particularly friendly for the ex-Marine.
“When was the last time you got laid?” He asked brusquely.
“Hell if I remember,” Kel sighed deeply–wishfully–and let him in. “Didn’t know you got back. How is New York city at this time of the year?”
“As welcoming as ever,” Xan muttered and Kel knew the subject was closed.
Apparently that was not the reason behind this night visit.
“Catalina kicked you out?” Kelton smirked.
“Yes.”
Kel wanted to say it was high time for that, but one look at the younger man told him that whatever went down, it was serious.
“What happened?” He demanded.
He took out two bottles of cold water from the fridge and threw one of them to Xan. Usually when he closed his eyes, he could imagine it to be beer, whiskey or any other of those forbidden beverages.
Forbidden to him.
Then it was just a step closer to telling himself one drink wouldn’t do any harm and start his descend to hell once again. But he knew it to be a lie, even if it was hard to swallow.
He tipped back the bottle, washing the bitterness down with cool water instead.
“She knows about the accident when I was sixteen years old. Now tell me you have something on Tony before I kill the fucking bastard, adding one more murder to the tally,” Xan muttered and Kel knew all the dangers this kind of a volatile mood could spell.
“I will call Kyle in the morning; until then you do nothing about Tony. You go nowhere close to him. You got me?” Kelton demanded. “Xan!” He snapped.
“Yes.”
“Convince me you mean it.”
“I mean it!” Xan blew out a harsh breath.
“What I want to know is… why are you here instead of trying to explain to her what really happened that night?” Kel wanted to know.
“It’s not rocket science, Kel; when you have a body you know exactly what happened and circumstances be damned!” Xan’s voice rose.
The boy’s fuse seemed too short for his peace of mind, Kelton decided. One spark would be enough to ignite it and set him ablaze.
“Besides, aren’t you gonna tell me she is not for me? That I should let it go, let her go?” Xan downed the contents of the bottle and slammed it on the
tabletop, wishing it could have been glass so he would get some kind of satisfaction tonight no matter how ridiculously unimportant.
No such luck, he thought; apparently fortune was no longer his bitch.
“I want to know whose words you are putting into my mouth,” Kel replied calmly. “Do you know the first thing I’ve noticed about you?”
“My charm and good looks?” Xan offered.
“Hardly!” The ex-Marine scoffed. “Your determination. You don’t leave the ring and claim victory; you stay till the end no matter what. So riddle me this: what the fuck are you doing here instead of fighting for her? Unless you are glad for the out she gave you?” Kell mocked him and braced himself for a punch, but it didn’t come.
No, Xan looked at him with misery written all over his face.
“I love her. I asked her to move in with me today,” he admitted.
“What did she say?” Kel tilted his head.
“You mean after she learned about me being a murderer and all?” Xan’s words were filled with sarcasm.
“Riiiiight,” Kel sighed. “You need to give her a moment to catch her breath and then you need to fight for her, Xan. Make use of your tenaciousness, boy. Did you forget that you don’t give up but push through when the odds are stacked against you? You don’t surrender; you complete not only one round but the whole fight,” Kel told him and Xan decided that punching the wall was not nearly enough.
He wanted to hit it with his head and maybe shake some common sense back into it while he was at it. Of course he was not the type to give up and back down when shit got rough. He was regrouping and approaching the problem from another angle until something would eventually give.
Catalina wasn’t the problem; his whole attitude was, since the moment he met her and allowed doubts to plague him. She was the best thing that could have ever happened to him and the fact she deserved better was completely irrelevant. It only meant he had to try so much harder to convince her they were meant for each other, and the whole upper crust be damned.
He not only loved her, he was completely besotted by the way she was. He recalled Dante’s race and how she was watching the events with eyes wide open and amazement shining in them. He knew, because he had been admiring her instead of following his friend’s progress.
Where all women he knew wanted to be appreciated for their looks, she seemed uncomfortable when someone paid her compliments about it, as if she were unused to it. He found it hard to believe but then he understood his Catalina wanted to be admired for her work. That was only one of the differences between her and the rest.
The world thought her to be cool and unflappable, but there were moments she shed that demeanor as if it was skin that didn’t quite fit her anymore. He was utterly fascinated by how far she would allow herself to go in order to get free from those ties that had been instilled upon her from the day she was born.
He was a goner when it came to this woman–as in lost without any hope or will to ever get over her, Xan decided.
He jumped to his feet, ready to face her, consequences and the whole damn world at once.
“You are absolutely right!” He informed his friend.
“Of course I am… whoa, where are you off to?” Kel demanded.
“I thought it would be obvious,” Xan smirked.
“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I seriously doubt that waking her up at this time would score you brownie points, genius. Simmer the fuck down.” Kel could only shake his head.
He didn’t think he had ever been so young and so impatient himself. Having a possibility to witness a usually sensible man acting like a lovesick pup convinced him that he didn’t miss anything particularly attractive.
“You are probably right. I will wait a few hours,” Xan agreed. “I will go to her first thing in the morning.”
“Wrong again, we have a meeting at the bank first thing in the morning; then you can talk to Catalina.”
“Fuck Kel, kill me now! How am I supposed to wait?” Xan wanted to know.
“By exercising your patience, perhaps?” Kelton suggested.
“I would rather do it while pounding the hell out of you on the mat.”
Kel glanced at his watch and sighed. He didn’t think he was going to sleep tonight anyway, and letting Xan out of his sight didn’t seem like a great idea either.
Gym it was, he decided.
“You could try,” he agreed.
CHAPTER 50
Time became quite a foreign concept to Catalina that night. It seemed to be floating tauntingly all around her, just to remain out of reach.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t sleep–she didn’t even attempt to, because her head kept spinning until she felt as if she were spiraling a long way down herself.
A long way because she finally understood that down wasn’t one step a person took with little care, it was much longer trip. A series of wrong steps and bad decisions, but for the life of her she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment when everything in her life started to go wrong.
She couldn’t bring herself to regret anything, but she wished to understand why everything came with such a high price and why she was the one who always had to pay it in the end.
She was afraid that riding the latest storm out wouldn’t be as easy as all the previous ones.
Cat kept recalling her conversation with Florence, still feeling shell-shocked by her grandmother’s ruthlessness.
But why was she really? She asked herself.
She knew her better than anyone. The person she pretended to be, the one that ensured her award for her charity work was not the same one who remained after the lights went off.
Meddling in other people’s lives and business, collecting dossiers for confirmation, hiring private investigators; it all seemed apt to fit the general image describing Florence to the letter.
The kind of picture Catalina wouldn’t be interested in taking herself.
There was no way for things to go back to the way they were after all had been said and done between them, she decided. Their relationship had always been far from what either one of them wanted or was hoping for. Since they were not capable of fulfilling any kind of expectations, there was also no need to keep hurting each other.
She looked at the images Florence threw in her face a few hours before, still attempting to wrap her head around them. It felt as if the young man was looking back at her.
Judgmental.
Assessing.
Just like her grandmother was, like the whole elite seemed to be as of late. These kinds of looks came across as silent in a way that was anything but soothing, made of indented and uneven edges ready to draw out blood.
She was used to their presence, aware of it the same as prey was conscious of a hunter shadowing its every step. Lying in wait for the smallest trace of weakness in order to pounce and shred the vulnerable underbelly to pieces.
A shudder rocked her, but the feeling clinging to her skin refused to abate.
Catalina blinked, trying to bring one of those pictures into focus, but her mind was flooded by echoes of the past that wasn’t really that distant.
Throughout her entire life, she needed to excel practically in everything, leaving others to bite the dust. There was no second best in Florence Bennett’s world, no second chances.
No second anything, Cat thought, releasing a shaky breath.
She was supposed to be nothing but a pretty ornament with a schooled expression on her face, forever hiding her true feelings and her true personality.
She had been deprived of her right to laugh, to cry, robbed of her childhood, not only because of her parents’ death, but for the second time around when she had been placed under her grandmother’s less-than-tender care.
She was not raised, never treated as a child. She had been groomed and polished to perfection instead. Florence’s watchful gaze didn’t leave space for any mistake, following Catalina’s every step, seemingly counting every breath sh
e took.
She had always been forced to prove herself over and over again. Prove she was good enough while she and her grandmother both knew she was far from ever achieving it.
Xan had never made her feel any less than what she was, not asking more of her than she wanted to give him. Yes, he pushed her, but it was completely different and served an entirely different purpose.
It seemed she was meant to fall, regardless of all Florence’s efforts, because she appeared to be flawed anyway, Cat decided.
There had always been this iota of a rebel within her.
Probably the same that made her fall in love with a man like Xan, who could have never made her grandmother’s cut.
The same something that had always resulted in her landing herself in trouble despite all those pitiless stares from the diamond-hard eyes of the woman who was her grandmother.
Cat’s hand rose up subconsciously until the fingers of her hand brushed her upper lip. The skin tingled in a sensory memory of the blow received many years ago for being mutinous and unreasonably disobedient.
Not that it made it all much better, but it was supposed to be a slap to her cheek, one of a few stinging ones she had obtained during her stay under Florence’s roof. But her grandmother’s gold engagement ring had caught on her lip, tearing the delicate tissue and spraying them both with droplets of crimson.
Disgust, Catalina recalled now, that was Florence’s reaction to the result of her own brand of violence. She had never been sorry for teaching Cat any of the lessons for her wrong-doing. She had never taken any part of the blame on herself either.
Catalina sighed again, angry at herself for reliving the memory that was far from anything good. Her body might not bear scars, not visible kind like Xan’s did, but the final outcome was quite similar.
They were both marked by what had happened to them before, because the past was a merciless thing resurfacing from time to time, forcing a person to go through the same song and dance.
She wasn’t wrong when she told Florence she knew Xan. He had never made his sordid past a secret, never pretended to be someone he was not. She simply didn’t want to believe he would have hidden something as big as a murder.
CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) Page 38