He wanted Evelyn, and he wanted her now.
He reached for her shirt and pulled at the buttons. She raised her arms to aid in its removal. Gently, he tugged it over her head, then threw it to the floor. He kissed her again and traced his lips down her collarbone, past her navel.
She shuddered, pushed closer and reached for his waistband. Her fingers brushed along his stomach, journeyed lower, traveled downward.
Marcus ran his fingers and mouth over her and committed every inch of her body to memory. He made her forget.
* * *
EVELYN WOKE UP molded to Marcus’s body, her leg draped over his thigh, her face nestled against his chest and her ear tuned into the constant rhythm of his heart. She didn’t pull away. She just lay there in the silence of the dawn and enjoyed his closeness.
She’d known what she’d asked him last night. It hadn’t erased the pain. It was still there, but so was something else. She felt grounded, bound to something besides the constant dull ache of agonizing grief.
Marcus. She was tethered to him. He gave her strength, courage...hope.
“Morning, beautiful. I was half expecting to wake up tied to the bed, with you long gone.” He kissed the top of her head.
She gazed at the man she’d completely fallen for. “Nope. This caveman I know told me to stay put.”
Her head bobbed in time with his laughter.
“Though I’m hoping there’s coffee in my future.” She sat up and pulled the covers up. “I’d like to go in and speak with the chief about Liam. He said we could discuss it after—”
He gathered her closer to him. “Done and done.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
EVELYN STOOD OUTSIDE her precinct building, frozen. A sense of dread washed over her. The last time she’d been here, she and Ryan had fought about his reaction at the press conference. Her heart sunk. She knew nothing good ever came out of what-ifs, but she couldn’t stop her mind from going there, wishing desperately things had gone down differently that night. Marcus put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Her pulse quickened. He winked. Her cheeks flamed as memories of the night before rushed to the front of her mind.
She put her hand on his. Now that she’d found him, she wasn’t letting him go.
Evelyn took a deep breath and forced a smile. Quietly, she and Marcus walked into the precinct together. The officer behind the front desk glanced up, did a double take, then jumped to his feet.
“Detective Davis, welcome back. It’s great to see you, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” She headed to the stairs and called over her shoulder, “I’m only here for a few minutes. Please continue to forward all phone calls to Agent Moretti.”
The young officer nodded. “Yes, Detective.”
Captain Kessler met them at the top of the stairs. “It’s good to see you, Davis.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m glad you called. Follow me to the conference room. There’s something we need to discuss.”
She cast a worried glance at Marcus, then followed Kessler into the conference room. Chief Diaz and another man she didn’t recognize sat at the table. Both men stood as she entered.
“Evelyn, it’s good to see you. Please...” Chief Diaz motioned for her to sit.
She sank into the closest chair, heart pumping and blood roaring in her veins. The chief cleared his throat.
What was going on? Was this gentlemen Internal Affairs? No, he couldn’t possibly be; the Armani suit was too rich for any police officer she knew. Then who? She wracked her brain over the events of the past few days. Again, nothing surfaced.
“Liam—”
A startled gasp flew from her lips. “Is he okay? When can I see him? Is something wrong?”
At this point, she didn’t care if any of them—the captain, the chief or this mysterious man—thought she was weak or emotional. She was emotional. Her hands fisted under the table. Marcus stealthily reached over and placed his hand on hers. Somehow, she managed to keep the tears threatening to burst at bay.
“Is he okay?” she repeated, harsher than she intended.
“Yes, Evelyn, if you’ll stop interrupting me, I can answer your questions,” the chief replied. “He’s at Seattle Children’s Hospital.”
“When can I see him? I need to see him.”
“There’s something you need to hear before you can see him.”
Her back went rigid. She tried to see what lay just behind his eyes. Concern? Grief? Frustration? Try as she might, she couldn’t get a read on him.
“This is Ethan Brown. He’s a lawyer at Brown and Dover.”
Lawyer? She froze. What the hell is going on? She threw Marcus a puzzled look, then flipped her attention to the man sitting next to the captain. He hadn’t moved, barely seemed to even breathe as his deep, steady eyes studied her. He wasn’t from the Pacific Northwest—his deep tan gave that much away. He smiled.
She tore her eyes from his tanned, friendly face and tuned into the chief again.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.” She tucked her feet to the left, straightened her shoulders and clutched her hands in her lap.
Diaz looked at her. “Mr. Brown is the O’Neil family lawyer.”
She’d come in today to speak with the chief about removing the protective duty and returning to her house. She hadn’t expected to be sitting across the table from Ryan and Kate’s freaking family lawyer.
“He’s here to talk with you regarding Liam.” Mr. Brown cleared his throat. “Detective Davis—”
“It’s Evelyn. Please, just Evelyn.”
The handsome man smiled. “Evelyn, did Ryan or Kate ever speak to you regarding guardianship of their children if anything were to happen to them?”
“No.” She tightened her hands into a death clasp. Guardianship...what...?
He brought his brown leather briefcase to his lap, unclasped it and pulled out a stack of papers. He handed an envelope to Evelyn. “This is a personal letter from Ryan and Kate. It might clear up any confusion.”
Numbly, she unclenched her hands and accepted the envelope. “Clear up what confusion?”
“Detective Davis, you’re Liam’s legal guardian now.”
Her mouth dropped open for a brief second before she could rein in her response. Her head spun. The room tilted on its edge.
“Me?”
“Yes, ma’am. The letter should explain everything. I have all the documents with me.”
Evelyn stared at the pale yellow envelope. She hadn’t realized until she glanced down that she’d been gently stroking the paper. She stopped moving and looked at Chief Diaz. “Sir, may I have some privacy with this?”
He nodded, stood before she even finished speaking. “Absolutely. Take all the time you need.”
Diaz’s crow’s-feet deepened as he studied her, turned to the other men and motioned to the door. “Mr. Brown, if you would please follow me. We’ll wait in Captain Kessler’s office. Kessler, does that work?”
Kessler bobbed his head. “Of course, sir.”
“And under no circumstances are you to breathe a word of this to anyone.”
“Of course, sir. It’s not mine to tell.” Kessler turned to Evelyn, a look of fierce protection washing over his face. “But you are mine to look after, got it?”
The envelope burned her fingers. She mustered a smile and glanced at Marcus. “I think you’ll have to get in line with that one, sir.”
“Fair enough.” He tipped his head and grinned at Marcus. “I guess you could do worse.”
Soft laughter echoed in the room. Then, with a quick nod from the chief, all three men exited the room. Marcus pushed back from the table.
She looked up, startled. “You don’t have to go.”
He cupped her cheek
with his hand and smiled at her. “I have a feeling this needs to be done alone.”
“You’re probably right.”
“But I’ll just be outside if you need me. I’m not going anywhere. That’s a promise.” He leaned down, kissed her softly and left.
She stared at the envelope for what felt like an eternity, then put it down and wiped her palms on her pants. She got up, walked to the blinds and twirled them shut.
There was no telling what Ryan and Kate had penned, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her emotions in check. She glanced back at the envelope, grief tearing through her, fresh and ferocious. She couldn’t imagine Ryan and Kate sitting down to write such a heart-wrenching letter, knowing if Evelyn ever read what they wrote, it would mean they were both dead, their children alone.
Evelyn swallowed the sob lodged in her throat and sank back into her chair. She picked up the envelope, used her forefinger to lift the corner of the seal. She fished out the letter, took a deep breath and read:
Dear Evelyn,
I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re thinking right now. God knows I can hardly put pen to paper and articulate my thoughts with just the idea that one day you may have this in your hands. First of all, I know what you’re thinking right now and, no, we aren’t crazy.
A tiny laugh bubbled up from her broken heart. She ran her hand across her face, wiping away tears. He was right. She did think they were crazy.
There is no one in the world who loves our children as fiercely as you. We’ve seen that love in your face time after time: when Ava spit up all over you and you just laughed, the time Liam peed on you when you first changed him—the list could keep on going, but our lawyer told us not to write you a novel.
Another minuscule laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head. “How is it possible you can still make me laugh, Ry?”
Evelyn, all kidding aside...there is no one in this world I would entrust my children to, except to you. They are the best things that have ever happened to us. We know with you, they’ll be cared for, protected and loved as if they were your own children, as if you had given birth to them yourselves. Just be glad you didn’t. Both put up a fight coming out of Kate, but eventually, she won—Momma always wins.
Evelyn put the letter down and laughed, even as tears blurred the words. She stared at Ryan’s meticulously flawless penmanship, envisioned Ryan and Kate doing the same as they put the words to paper. She shook her head in amazement at the strength of her two friends. She picked up the letter and read on.
I hope—we hope—this letter never finds its way into your hands, because if it does, it means we’re both gone, and the mere thought of that breaks my heart. I’m confident that if you’re reading this, my two babies—my perfect angels—are safe with you.
Evelyn’s stomach lurched. Only one, Ry. I’m so sorry. I saved only one. She swallowed hard, shoved aside the suffocating guilt and continued reading.
Evelyn, there isn’t a woman in this world—aside from my gorgeously stunning wife, of course—who I trust to raise my children in a way that would make me, make us, proud. Except you. Your courage, your strength—God knows, your humor—your love for life, your unwavering tenacity for justice, everything about you screams strength. And if you’re reading this, my children will need your strength now more than ever. They’ll need you.
She hugged the letter to her chest and bent her head. Tears dripped from her chin and puddled on the table. She rubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes and continued to read.
So please, don’t be angry with us for not telling you that you’re the one we have entrusted our precious children to. You would have raised hell if you knew. But you would have said yes in the long run.
I don’t have to tell you to love them and protect them, because it’s you I’m writing to, and that’s a given. But please remind them every single day how much we loved them, how much we cherished them and that we’re watching out for them—no matter what.
Evelyn could barely make out the last few lines of Ryan and Kate’s letter. She rested her head on the table and relinquished herself to the pain. Her body quaked as gut-wrenching sobs shook her. On a relentless, vicious cycle, her heart shattered, put itself back together and broke all over again. With each successive break, the agony deepened. Sorrow crashed over her. She felt like she was drowning in it. The tears fell with no sign of ending: for Ryan, for Kate, for Ava and for her own family. After a long time, she lifted her head, wiped her face with the back of her hands and scanned the rest of the letter.
We love you, Evelyn Davis, and will be forever grateful that you blew into this city and into our lives. Take care of Ava and Liam for us, okay? Don’t let the grief of this tragedy root itself into either of their souls. It’ll rip them apart.
You, of all people, know that.
Please, Evelyn. Be strong now. For yourself. For Ava. For Liam.
Liam.
The letter dropped from her hands. She shot up from the chair, straightened her clothing, tucked her hair behind her ears and dabbed the smeared mascara from under her eyes. She couldn’t afford to look like a drunken raccoon. Then she yanked open the heavy, bulletproof conference-room door.
Marcus pushed off from the wall. “Evelyn?”
Without a word, she breezed by him. He fell into step beside her. Refusing to make eye contact with any of her fellow officers as they curiously stared at her, she walked down the hall until she reached Kessler’s office. Without knocking, she tugged at the glass door and stepped through the opening. Three startled faces glanced up at her.
“I need to see Liam,” she said. “Immediately.”
Mr. Brown shook his head.
“Don’t shake your head at me, Mr. Brown. That little boy is mine to guard now. And hell will freeze over before I let him be alone for one more freakin’ second. Do you understand me?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a smile spread across Marcus’s face. She shot him a look. He shrugged, smile still intact.
“Evelyn, I don’t think he’s trying to prevent you from going to Liam,” the chief said.
“He’s correct, Detective Davis,” Mr. Brown said. “I understand why Ryan and Kate O’Neil named you guardian of their children. With all due respect, ma’am, you’re an Amazon.”
Marcus brought his hand to his mouth and coughed. “He’s right, Ev.”
Kessler’s eyebrows shot up. Diaz laughed. Evelyn crossed her arms and stared Brown down.
A flush crept into his cheeks. He cleared his throat, grabbed his briefcase and fumbled with the lock. “There’s paperwork that must be in place before the guard at Liam’s room will even allow you to enter—badge or no badge. Special Agent Moretti’s orders.”
He glanced between Marcus and Evelyn. “The last time I checked, the Feds trump local police any day, correct?”
“My apologies, Mr. Brown.”
“Please, call me Ethan.” He gathered the appropriate papers from his briefcase.
“Ethan.” Evelyn softened her tone. “Again, my apologies. I have to see him with my own eyes. I need to hold him.”
“That’s not possible,” Chief Diaz said. “Liam’s in a medically induced coma.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. The emotions she’d locked safely away threatened to unleash.
Marcus put his hand at the small of her back. “Evelyn, Liam is fine. Physically, there was no need for it. But emotionally, the overseeing doctor felt, given the situation, that he should rest until this is all over. The trauma he’s faced has been of the emotional sort. He hasn’t spoken since the priest brought him in.”
Evelyn’s gut twisted. Not spoken? That little chatterbox? Ryan had laughed, saying that once Liam had figured out how to put sounds together, there was never another moment of silence in their house. Her heart squeezed within her. What h
ad he seen? What could he have possibly witnessed that had sent him into utter silence?
“I still want to see him,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended. “Where do I need to sign?”
“Evelyn, are you sure about this?” the chief asked. “This is a major commitment. Maybe you should take a few days to think about it.”
Her back straightened. “Absolutely not. There’s nothing to think about or discuss. Ryan and Kate entrusted me with their children. I’m not going to break that trust, not in this life or the next.”
The chief held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know, sir. If I can just see him, see that he’s safe and whole, then I can focus on the task in front of me.”
The chief cocked his head. “Which is what, exactly?”
“To catch the bastard who did this, sir.”
He smiled, then rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Fair enough. Mr. Brown, what papers does she need to sign?”
Mr. Brown slid a piece of paper and a pen toward her.
She followed the movement of the paper floating across the mahogany conference table and felt as if someone had kicked her in the gut. One piece of paper. One lousy piece of paper to represent all the memories, all the laughter, all the love that had surrounded the O’Neil family? She felt sick. She grabbed the heavy, expensive pen, bent over the table and signed the paper.
“Sir, I just need a few hours. Then I would like permission to return and work from here, with the team.”
Diaz looked at Marcus. They shared some unspoken conversation, and Diaz nodded. “Take all the time you need, Evelyn. No one is going anywhere. I can promise you that. But my ultimatum still stands when you return. The moment—and I do mean the very moment, Evelyn, so don’t push me—I believe your judgment is impaired or shaken, I’ll pull you from the case, no questions asked. Do you understand?”
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