by W. J. May
Devon flushed and dropped his gaze to the sidewalk. Rae wondered exactly how many of his father’s calls he’d ignored in the last several days. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t—”
But Tristan Wardell didn’t come to pick a fight. He came to get them past one.
“And who is this?” he interrupted, eyes locking on the little ball of golden fur cradled in his son’s arms. His entire face lit up, much the same way Devon’s had, as he strode forward and reached out a tentative hand. “I didn’t know you’d gotten a dog.”
For a split second, all the tension was put on pause. Puppies had a way of doing that.
Devon glanced down with a wide grin, and shifted little Annie forward so that his father could see her as well. “Rae got her for me. Just now, actually. Her name’s Annie.”
“Annie? Really?” Tristan’s eyes twinkled, and Rae wondered at the significance of the name as he reached down and ruffled her fur. “I should have seen that coming.”
Devon flushed again and looked away. The grin disappeared, and a cold tension suddenly enveloped the happy little house. Although he must have remembered having them, whatever feelings of reconciliation he and his father briefly shared during Rae’s absence had long since passed.
At least, they had on Devon’s side. Tristan might have been a different story.
“That’s a very sweet gift, Rae.” He offered her a tentative smile. Obviously hoping she remembered that the last time they parted, it was as friends. “What made you think of it?”
She glanced between the two men, suddenly trapped in the middle of a long-standing family feud. One that she had just permanently signed up for by accepting Devon’s ring. Not that his dad knows anything about that yet…
“Devon’s always loved dogs,” she answered quietly, doing her best to appear as neutral as possible. “Always wanted one. Now that we moved back into the house, I figured…”
But that brought up the house again, and a sudden shadow clouded Tristan’s face. He made a concerted effort to get past it. An effort so smooth and convincing it reminded her strongly of his son. Then he turned quickly back to the dog—forcing a bright smile.
“Well, Dev, I hate to say it, but it looks like little Annie has chewed a hole right through the pocket of your coat.”
He was right. Even now, the puppy was gleefully shredding the designer threads.
Devon looked down in surprise—surprise at the dog, and surprise that his father had pulled out an old nickname, then lifted his eyes accusingly to Julian.
“Why didn’t you tell me that was going to…”
But he trailed off. Because Julian wasn’t standing with them there in the present. He was already miles away in the future. For the second time that morning his face paled with worry and surprise, and by the time he shook himself out of it he was already turning to Rae.
Rae swallowed nervously.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, even more remorseful than the first. “I haven’t been watching…”
A faint shiver ran up her spine, and she took an automatic step closer to Devon. “What?” she asked quickly, bracing for the worst. “What didn’t you—”
“Your father.”
Much to Rae’s surprise it was Tristan Wardell who answered, not Julian.
His bright blue gaze had finally torn itself away from his estranged son, and was focused on something else. Something that had dilated them almost completely black. “Your father’s here.”
Chapter 9
Every now and then, life gives you a moment you know you’ll remember until the end of your days. The kind of moment that sears into your memory even as it’s happening.
Usually, those moments revolve around you.
But sometimes, just sometimes, you’re merely a spectator.
“Tris?” Rae’s father froze dead-still on the walkway, staring as if he thought he might be in a dream. Every ounce of his usual confidence and false bravado melted clean away as he stared at the man in front of him with eyes as wide as a child’s. “I didn’t think…” he trailed off, unable to tear his eyes away from Devon’s father’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be…”
Tris?
Rae and Devon exchanged a quick look. Followed quickly by Angel and Julian. At the same time, the younger generation bunched instinctively together, completely unnoticed by the two men who seemed to be unconsciously moving apart.
The second Tristan heard Simon’s voice his entire body seemed to shut down. Even from a few yards away Rae could see it. Devon sometimes did the exact same thing.
Dean Wardell stood staring with equal intensity, stuck in a suspended state of disbelief, but the second Simon took a hesitant step towards him Dean Wardell jerked back. “I can’t…” he spoke so softly that even with her own borrowed fox tatù, Rae could hardly hear it, “I can’t do this…” He took another step back, but this time Devon took his arm in concern.
“You okay, Dad?”
It seemed the automatic thing to ask, but Tristan clearly wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. In fact, Rae had never seen such a stricken expression on the man’s face.
The guy was gutted. Hollowed out to the point of no return.
Every muscle in his body had frozen to perfect stone, and there wasn’t a single drop of color left in his face. Even his eyes had lost their usual sparkle, the blue in them fading to an icy gray.
That very face Rae knew would stick in her mind forever. That single moment would be burned there, like the images of her father’s horrid past. Except this was real. It was happening right now. Dean Wardell was caught in a ghost of the past and terrified. She had never seen anything break him down before—not this bad. Not even when Devon had been kidnapped.
Rae had never imagined that the stunning weight of silent emotions chilling down the winter air was even possible. Never before been lost in such a wave of raw, heartbroken feeling. Never expected that anyone could survive, even if they had.
The dean’s face was that of a man staring at his own personal ghost. The only face she had ever seen to match it…was that of her own father.
“Dad,” Devon said again, quiet but pressing. He glanced between the two uncertainly, still cradling the new puppy in his arms. “Do you want to—”
“You’re here.” Tristan spoke not to his son, but to Simon. Breaking the silence between them into a million ill-fitting shards.
Simon visibly recoiled at the words, but thawed at the same time. Staring across the front walk with the strangest expression Rae had ever seen. “I’m here.” He took another step towards the gate, moving slowly so as not to alarm anyone standing on the other side. “I got out a few weeks ago.”
“Got. Out,” Tristan repeated, placing strange emphasis on each word.
Much to Rae’s astonishment Simon actually blushed, dropping his gaze to the ground and bowing his head like an errant school boy. “I was with Cromfield,” he said quietly, leaving nothing to hide. “It seems once I threw my hat in with him all those years ago, he was unwilling to let me leave. Long story short, I’ve been there ever since.”
A cold flush raced over Rae’s skin. She’d never heard him talk about it so directly. And with such a complete lack of emotion. So much more had happened during those years he was imprisoned by Cromfield, and she had a feeling no one would ever know.
“I know,” Tristan’s voice was clipped. “I read it in the papers.”
An uncertain emotion crashed across Simon’s face, but he held his tongue. I once called you my brother. What are you going to do next?
Rae twitched in surprise. Had she just heard her father’s thoughts? Her body shifted immediately back into Devon’s tatù and she watched her father suspiciously. Wondering if he had purposely allowed her to hear them, or if she simply had because he’d let his guard down for a fraction of a second. Either way, she blinked in shock. They had once been friends? A bond close enough to be brothers? Like Devon and Julian?
There was an a
wkward pause—the kind that seemed to go on forever.
Then Tristan lifted his chin, and stared Simon right in the eyes. “And now you’re back.”
In a flash, it was like the long years apart had never happened. Rae watched, entranced. Her father and Dean Wardell—Tristan Wardell friends? Partners in the PC? Did her mother know? Did Devon know? She pushed past all the questions as she watched the two men.
There was a subtle shift, and suddenly they were both sixteen again. Just a pair of wide-eyed teenagers who had been to hell and back… only to find themselves different when they returned.
Time ceased to matter. Rae believed, if left to their own devices, they would have stood there all day—completely oblivious to the sun’s journey across the sky.
A soft elbow nudged her in the side, and she looked up to see Devon staring. He caught her eye ever so briefly, and cocked his towards Simon.
Do something, he seemed to say.
Her head went down in a quick nod, and she cleared her throat softly.
“Uh…S-Simon?” They had finally made it to ‘Dad,’ after announcing their engagement. But for the life of her she didn’t think she could say the word with Tristan standing right there. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be staying with Mom. In Kent.”
Rae, his daughter, was perhaps the only thing in the world that could tear Simon away. He stared at Tristan for a moment longer before inclining his head towards her. “Your mother had to return to Scotland for a day or so. Something about business with the estate. She asked that I stay with you in London until she gets back. Kraigan knows.”
The others stared at him incredulously. Devon’s eyes flickered to the departing taxi that had dropped him off. Rae’s followed suit. He had simply come to London? Completely of his own accord?
As if sensing their confusion, Simon’s lips turned up in a wry smile. “She employed a tracker to watch me until I arrived. I’m not…on my own.”
As usual, there wasn’t an ounce of shame when he admitted such a thing. Simon Kerrigan had always been of the belief that once something was done, it was done. Not point in rehashing it with a valid emotional response; you could only move forward. It had been his rationalization for enough years that there was no turning back now.
But the shame returned when he looked at Tristan.
Rae couldn’t believe it. Simply couldn’t believe it. Since the day she’d found him, Simon had freely admitted that the things he’d done were wrong. Save for a few fleeting moments during the darkest of his confessions, he never looked as though he actually regretted doing it. She didn’t think her estranged father was capable of producing such an emotion. She didn’t think there was thing in the world that could illicit a feeling of guilt. Of remorse.
Turns out, it wasn’t a thing after all. It was a person.
The rest of her friends had no idea what to make of it either. In fact, the impromptu reunion had them would up so tight, it looked as though at any moment they might fall to pieces right there on the front path. It was a volatile collision of two completely different worlds. One made all the stranger when juxtaposed against the delightful little puppy still wriggling in Devon’s arms.
Finally, when the silence could go on no longer, Tristan lifted his head to speak.
“You’re going in there?” He glanced towards the house, and the rest of them followed his gaze. It was a question, but it wasn’t at the same time. His eyes flashed the fiercest warning before coming to rest on his son. “With them?”
The message was clear. As was the chilling implication that went with it.
Simon bowed his head. But just as Tristan had looked at Devon, he looked at Rae. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before he slowly turned back to apparently one of his oldest friends.
No answer was given. No answer was needed.
Tristan pulled in a deep breath as decades of pain and worry settled back into place. “Then I guess I’m going in, too.”
* * *
“What the freakin’ heck do you mean it’s going to be okay?” Rae hissed through her teeth, painfully aware that no matter where she was standing in the house Tristan Wardell would always be able to hear her. Her only hope was that he was sufficiently distracted. “Absolutely no part of this is okay!”
Devon took a steadying breath. Over the years, the two of them had learned to operate as a team. When one panicked, the other had to remain calm. And visa-versa. Ironically enough, it was a skill they’d developed when they were partnered up by the PC. It was only later that it had leaked over into their relationship as well. “I only meant…it’s happening now. They’re both here. Together.” Devon paled at the thought, then struggled to remain strong. “So we just have to deal with it as best as we can.”
Rae glared down at the tray in his hands. “And you think that means sitting everyone down for tea?”
The second the group walked into the house, the two of them had made a graceful escape to the kitchen. Partially to catch their breath. Partially to come up with some sort of plan as to how to fill the next twenty or so minutes. Devon’s plan left a bit to be desired.
“I’m English,” he muttered defensively. “This is how we diffuse tension.”
Rae threw up her hands, dreaming of the gritty streets of New York City. “So typical. A problem of cataclysmic proportions walks through our door, and your only solution is to throw a scone at it. And you!” She whirled around as Julian hastily slid inside the kitchen. “What are you? Broken or something? You didn’t see this coming?!”
“Ah, deflection. Such an endearing trait,” he replied dryly. Only when Devon gave him a hard look did he bow his head and apologize. “I’m sorry. Alright? We were all out getting the puppy; I wasn’t watching to see if anyone was coming. Only when Devon was going to wake up.”
There was a slight pause as the two of them shared a communicative glance that reminded Rae strangely of the two men sitting in the next room. “Dev…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Devon sighed and ran his hands through is hair. “It’s not your fault.”
“Wait a minute,” Rae interjected with sudden frown, a wave of panic splashing violently in her stomach, “where are they now? Why the hell did you come in here and leave them alone?!”
“They’re not alone,” Julian said quickly. “Angel’s with them.”
There was a split-second pause, followed by a silent explosion.
“Angel?” Rae exclaimed in a silent shriek. “You left your demented girlfriend with them?! A girl who thinks that federal mandates are a light suggestion?”
“Hey, be fair,” Julian said sternly. “That was only one time, and it was grand larceny. It wasn’t anything sinister.”
“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” Rae demanded. “Are you even hearing the words coming out of your mouth—”
“Guys,” Devon stepped in swiftly, “that’s enough.” He quieted them both with the same look before turning back to his tray of life-saving tea. “This is going to work…until we come up with some permanent sort of plan.”
Rae ran her hands back through her hair, feeling the beginnings of a massive migraine coming on. “Well we’re going to need to think of something. And fast.” Her eyes flickered up to her fiancé’s. “Because I’m pretty sure that your dad is going to murder my dad over scones.”
They rejoined the unexpected reunion a minute later, settling themselves with strained, matching smiles down on the chairs in the living room. Neither Tristan nor Simon had said a word since the three of them had left, and by the look of things Angel was at the end of her rope, just trying to keep things going.
“…at which point, we were forced to concede that there were easier ways to hide a body than by first getting a diver’s permit in the middle of the rainy season…” She looked up with obvious relief as the others slid into their chairs. “Oh good, you brought…tea.”
Both Simon and Tristan glanced at the tray, looking as though the
y would have preferred something a bit stronger, before gazing off in opposite directions.
Angel bit into a scone. “That should do it…all better,” she muttered under her breath.
Devon shot her a death glare before doing his best to step up to the plate. “So, Dad, what were you doing in London?” When his father gave him a blank look, he hurried to clarify. “You…you said you were in the area.”
Tristan glanced first at Simon, then back at his son. Then he lowered his head with an almost inaudible sigh. “I came to London to see you. Your mother called to say you and Rae had moved into a house in the city. I wanted to wish you well.”
Rae’s eyes shot immediately to her father, who was still staring at Tristan like he was some nostalgic reverie come to life. His eyes clouded, however, upon hearing Tristan’s reply.
“And why is that?” Simon asked quietly. The room went silent as Tristan turned those piercing blue eyes his way. “You say Mary called…you’re not living together?”
This time, it was Rae’s turn to be embarrassed. “Dad,” she admonished softly, shooting Devon’s father an apologetic look.
But Tristan didn’t seem the least bit ashamed. Quite the contrary; the second Simon asked the question he turned full towards him in his chair, leveling him with his eyes. “We’re separated. For several years now.”
He was guarded and unyielding, but Simon was genuinely shocked. He glanced at Devon for a split second before lowering his voice in an incredulous undertone. “You’re…separated?” He stared for a moment, as if Tristan might suddenly say the entire thing was a joke. When that didn’t happen, he looked down at his lap and shook his head. “I can’t believe that. You were mad about her for years. I’d never seen two people more in love...”
“Things change,” Tristan said, cutting him off sharply. His eyes fixed on Simon’s face, soaking in every possible detail, before narrowing infinitesimally. “You should know that best of all.”