“I know everyone thinks I didn’t love my daughter,” she said softly. “But I only wanted to protect her from the vices that nearly ruined my life.”
Mrs. Wagner was this monster in my life. The stories Sam told me about her made her seem like this creature that spit evil everywhere she went. It was as if she couldn’t see the grace and love that was right there in front of her. Sam was too gracious to be the product of such a violent union, such a vicious woman.
I was sorry that Mrs. Wagner was so clearly hurting. But she couldn’t possibly have a complete grasp of everything she’d lost. I did. I couldn’t stand here and console this woman when my own pain was so raw.
I started to turn, but she grabbed my arm.
“Was she happy?” she asked. “Before she died? Was she happy?”
“She was.” I looked at her for a long moment. “She was dying, but I think that made her embrace life even more. And Hayden…he was everything she’d ever wanted. They would have had an amazing life together.”
She inclined her head slightly, her tears staining the front of her black dress. Then she looked up, her cheeks burning red with emotion.
“I’m glad.”
Then she just walked away, her shoulders sloped like the broken woman she’d always been.
We stood at the gravesite, unable to turn away. I couldn’t stand the idea of watching them place her in the ground. My stomach was a collection of cramps, the pain almost overwhelming. But I stood there, my spine as straight as Hayden’s. He stood at my side, a collection of white roses in his hand, the rose Sam had chosen to be scattered on her coffin. I wondered if she would have changed her mind if she’d made these arrangements after her relationship with Hayden blossomed. Maybe she would have preferred red roses.
The ceremony had been beautiful. The music was upbeat and perfect. Everything was perfect.
Sam always had a way with planning. She could walk in the morning of a party, everything a disaster, had have it come off as smooth as silk. She was brilliant.
She was my best friend.
I don’t know how I got through that day. My mom was a big help, I remember that. She made sure everyone had a drink or something to eat during the reception at my house. I remembered Dominic and Angela and Amy and Quinn coming up to talk to me. But that was about the last thing I remembered. I took a bottle of wine and disappeared into the bedroom at some point. Hayden came and found me when it was about half gone, two more bottles in his fists.
We lay back on the bed and drank, sharing stories of Sam. You’d think it would hurt to talk about her as if she were still here, but it didn’t. Somehow it made it easier.
“She was fourteen the first time I saw her. She was this little, mousy girl, sitting all by herself in a gray skirt and gray sweater. The other kids made fun of her, but she just smiled and walked away like it didn’t matter. I admired that.”
“The first time I saw her, it wasn’t in the office. Did I ever tell you that?”
I glanced at him. “No, you didn’t.”
“It was at Luke’s. I’d just come to town and he was letting me sleep on his couch. She stopped by to drop off some papers or something, something for you. I opened the door and I thought to myself, damn, what a beautiful woman! I think maybe that’s why I accepted the job at Dragon. Because I knew I’d see her every day.”
“You should have asked her out sooner.”
“I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
I took his hand and held it tight in mine.
“She loved you.”
“I loved her.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jeweler’s box. “I was going to give this to her at lunch that day.”
I took it and opened it. It was a small diamond on a simple gold band. Around the diamond were tiny, crushed slivers of amethyst, her birthstone. Beautiful.
“This is so Sam.”
“That’s what I thought when I saw it.”
I sat up and swallowed the last few drops in the third bottle.
“We need more.”
I got up and stumbled toward the door. At some point while we were locked inside my room, the wake had ended. My mom left a note on the refrigerator door telling me she wanted me to call her when I surfaced. She was worried, but she understood.
I tossed the note in the trash.
There was more wine in the fridge. I pulled a bottle out and turned to call to Hayden, but he was standing behind me.
“Do you have red? She loves red.”
I held up the bottle. “Right here. Merlot.”
He took it from me and grabbed a couple of proper glasses from the cupboard. He poured two healthy glasses, handing me one.
“To Sam,” he said. “To the hope that she’s found all the happiness she deserves in whatever comes after this life.”
“To Sam, in the hopes that we’ll all be together again someday.”
We touched glasses, but before we could drink, someone pounded on the door.
“Ignore it,” Hayden said.
I did, taking that much-needed drink. Then another. And another.
The pounding didn’t stop.
The door suddenly opened and Dante burst into the kitchen.
“Megan,” he said, relief dripping from his voice. “I only just heard about Sam. I’m so sorry.”
He came to me, trying to take my face in his hands. I turned away, not really in the mood to be touched. Not by him, anyway.
“Leave her alone,” Hayden said.
“Mind your business.” Dante studied my face. “Why didn’t you call me? What happened? I was told she was shot, but—”
“Leave. Her. Alone.”
Hayden laid his hands on Dante’s shoulders, pulling him back away from me.
“Cut it out, Hayden,” Dante said, his voice low and rough, the way Luke’s would get when he was pissed.
Fuck! Why couldn’t I stop—?
Hayden threw a punch, catching Dante low on the jaw.
“She’s grieving. Can’t you see that?”
Dante touched his jaw, moving it as though checking to make sure there was no permanent injury.
“I’m just here to support her.”
“You’re putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Dante crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes moving to my face.
“Do you want me here, Megan?”
I didn’t know what to say. He came to me again, and again Hayden grabbed him and pulled him back.
“I really don’t want to hurt you, Hayden.”
“Then leave.”
“Not until she tells me to.”
Hayden didn’t even look at me. He swung again, hitting Dante in the same spot. Then he followed up with a hard punch to Dante’s stomach. Dante backed up, glaring at Hayden even as he doubled over a little
“I’m not going to hit you back,” he said. “I know you’re hurting.”
“This isn’t about me hurting. This is long overdue. You come charging in here and take advantage of my friend, a woman still reeling from the death of her brother and the disappearance of her fiancé.” Hayden glared at him. “What kind of man does that?”
“My relationship with Megan is none of your damn business!”
“She’s my friend!”
Hayden charged him again, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and dragged him toward the front door. Dante grabbed his upper arms in an attempt to make him let go, but he didn’t. Hayden threw him out the front door, and then went after him, slamming his fist into his face several times, curse words flying from his lips. I grabbed his upper arm as he went for another punch, pulling him back.
“Enough.”
He glanced at me, then slowly backed up. Dante was watching, blood dripping from his nose.
“Go,” I said.
I hurt for him. But right now, Hayden needed me more than Dante did.
I pulled Hayden back into the house and wrapped my arms around him. In that moment, he fi
nally let go of everything that had been holding him upright, all the pain he’d been pushing down, collapsing against me like a damn bursting against the weight of a spring storm.
We fell to the floor there in my foyer and leaned against each other, both of us broken, too broken to ever be put back together again.
Chapter 21
Hayden
A month later…
I sat at the metal table, listening to doors slam throughout the building. They were heavy, metallic doors, the kind that were designed to keep what was inside, inside.
The door to this room opened and a guard came inside, the man who’d ruined my life beside him, his hands and ankles shackled. They sat him in the chair across from me and locked his shackles to the table and the floor.
I studied him, looking for the face of the man I’d met on a trip to New York over twenty years ago. There were similarities, but prison had been hard on him.
I was glad.
“Why did you plead guilty?” I demanded as soon as the guard left.
The man stared at me, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed.
“Why not fight it like you did the last time? Was it because there was no eight-year-old kid to force to take the stand?”
“My lawyer informed me that there were too many witnesses. Besides, I never intended to try to beat this charge.”
“Why?”
“Why did I not want to beat the charge? Or why did I do it?”
“Why did you do it?”
He studied me a moment longer. “You privileged little brat! You took everything from me. My wife left me; my child was raised by a man who wasn’t her father. My money, my freedom, and my life were all gone because of you.”
I leaned forward just slightly. “You raped my mother right in front of me. Then you did things to my father that no man should have to endure. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you made them watch as the two of you slit their throats. You made my parents watch each other die—watch the one they loved more than anyone else die.”
He tried to cross his arms over his chest, but he couldn’t because of the shackles.
“You were six when all that happened. How do you know it was me? How do you know you didn’t confuse me with someone else?”
“Because I remembered you from when you brought our luggage to our room. I remembered the candy you gave me when my parents weren’t looking. I know it was you.”
“You were a kid.”
“Yeah, I was. A kid who grew up without parents because of you. And now you’ve taken my fiancée from me.”
The man shrugged. “Now you know what it’s like to miss something that important to you.”
My vision reddened, the anger inside of me the most intense emotion I think I’d ever felt. And that… I couldn’t give that to him.
I stood and walked to the door, banging to let the guard know I was done.
But I wasn’t. Not really.
Working for Dragon meant that I made a lot of friends in different areas of society: cops, federal agents, bankers, wealthy executives—even some on the other side—criminals.
A single letter to an old friend and…three days later, I read of this man’s death in prison. A fight over the television, the article said.
What a loss.
Chapter 22
Megan
I couldn’t face the idea of walking into the office without seeing Sam sitting at her desk. She’d always been there. She was such a fixture in my life that there was this hole that I couldn’t get around.
I worked at home for a while. Then I went to Bradford Telecommunications and worked out of a spare office there, meeting clients and business associates, telling them that I was thinking about moving our offices because we were outgrowing our space. But that could only last for so long.
Sam’s house was waiting, too. Someone needed to clear out her things, clean it up and put it on the market. She’d left everything to me, everything down to her high school yearbooks. Her will, like everything else in her life, was very specific. What I was to do with her things and with the money. She wanted me to donate most of her belongings to various charities and sell what I couldn’t donate. Then she wanted the proceeds of the house and the money in her bank account to go to Dragon.
“I know you, Megan,” she said in a letter attached to the will. “You’ll shut down. You won’t want to go into the office anymore. But I can’t let you give up on your dream. This was everything you wanted, a business we could run together dedicated to helping people. You’ve done an awesome job. And now it’s time to expand, not to shut down. Take the money and invest it in the company, in Hayden, Dominic, Marcus, Vincent, and Cole. Invest it in their futures. If you can’t do it for me, do it for them.”
So I had to go back. I couldn’t let her down.
I sat in my car for a long time, fighting the tears that wanted to overtake me. I’d cried a lot in the past month. Her birthday was in a week. Every time I looked at a calendar, it was as though every day there was a reason why her absence was too huge to ignore. I missed her like I would miss an arm if it was amputated.
Angela had taken Sam’s place as secretary/assistant/office manager. She was doing a good job. It was pretty obvious that Sam had given her some pointers and helped her figure it out. But she wasn’t Sam.
“Good morning, Megan,” she said, clearly surprised, when I finally did push through the door.
“Morning.”
I started to breeze past her desk, but then paused.
“Messages?”
“On your desk.”
“Any pressing business?”
“No.”
I glanced into the bullpen. Half a dozen girls sat there, watching me, their eyes shifting when they realized they were caught. Vincent was there too, working on a report. The rest were out on operations—Marcus guarding a doctor who was getting threats from a drug dealer he’d crossed somehow weeks ago, Dominic and Hayden working an operation on a startup owner who was being accused of stealing technology from another company.
I’d thought Hayden would quit after Sam’s death. But he jumped back in faster than I could, telling me he needed the distraction of work.
Dante wasn’t there, either. I still signed his paychecks, but we hadn’t seen each other face to face since the night of the funeral.
Angela was in charge of assigning him jobs now.
I opened my office door, immediately greeted with the dusty smell of disuse. I flipped on the light and settled behind my desk, eyeing the huge stack of mail that sat there, waiting for my attention. Most of it was junk. The bills went to my accountant and the clients all contacted us through email. But as I sifted through it, I came across a plain envelope with my name written in Sam’s script.
My heart stopped for a second.
“Angela!”
She came to the door, her face a mask of curiosity with a twinge of fear.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Please don’t call me ma’am. I’m Megan.”
“Yes, ma…Megan.”
“What is this?”
Angela shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s been there ever since…it’s been there a while.”
I nodded, running my finger under the sealed edge. I looked up and Angela was still there, watching me.
“You can go.”
I waited for the door to close before I poured the object inside the envelope into my hand. There was a note, too, a thin sheet of paper with just a few words on it.
“In case I miss you.”
It was signed simply with the letter S.
I closed my eyes and waited for the pain to pass.
It was a thumb drive. I shoved it into the port at the side of my computer and clicked on the icon that appeared on my monitor. It was a collection of emails. I didn’t understand at first, but then I realized that they were from Peter to Luke.
They were talking about the terrorist cell—about Luke’s connection to it. They were talking about
how they should proceed. There were warnings from Luke to Peter, telling him to back off and to keep from getting in too late. Luke warned my brother that he wouldn’t be able to protect him much longer.
There was so much, things we’d only suspected but weren’t clear about. Information that ripped the blinders from my eyes.
But it was the last few that really caught my attention. They were written in the months after Luke left me.
Peter knew where Luke was. He knew why he’d left.
How do you think she is? Peter wrote. She’s broken. She thought the two of you had this bright future, but you left her at the altar. Quite literally.
Luke wrote back one, simple line.
It was the only way I could keep her safe.
Then Peter:
What will you do if they come after her? Or, God forbid, she finds these emails and realizes that we’re both in neck deep? What then?
And Luke:
I have a plan in place. I have a friend in California who can help me disappear in plain sight. I’ll watch over her, keep her safe. You know I will.
There were a few more exchanges and then they just stopped. The last email was dated three days before Peter died.
There was an additional file on the thumb drive. It was an audio file.
Sam’s voice filled the room when I clicked it. Again, I had to stop to let the pain pass. The thing was, the pain never fully passed. It just lessened somewhat.
“Is this Candy?” Sam’s voice asked.
“It is. Do I know you?”
“No, but you know a friend of mine. Luke Murphy.”
“Oh, of course. He was a patient here at our clinic over the summer.”
“Yes. Your clinic did a procedure for him.”
“It was several procedures, actually. A nose job, chin implant, cheek implants. I think they sculpted the bone along his brow, too.”
“A facial reconstruction?” Sam asked quietly, excitement audible in her voice.
“We don’t call it that anymore, but yeah. We also removed a scar on his knee and obscured a tattoo on his chest. He wanted to be sure he was completely unrecognizable, even to people who knew him well.”
My heart stopped as I listened. It literally stopped beating for a few seconds.
DRAGON SECURITY: The Complete 6 Books Series Page 77