by Debra Kayn
"I'm so sorry, Jackie," she whispered, using the name Jacqueline wanted used in Vince's house. "I should've figured out a way to take you with me when I ran. If I had, you might still be alive."
Tears flowed down her cheeks. She never allowed herself to think about the what-ifs until Dawson walked into her life and showed her more possibilities.
"I love him," she mumbled. "You never spoke about Dawson, and I understand why. You were protecting him, and someday he'll realize that. He'll forgive himself for not getting you out of Vince's house soon enough."
She wiped her cheek taking her strength from a woman who no longer lived but had made a difference in her life.
"Rest in peace, my friend. Nobody can hurt you anymore. You're safe," she whispered.
The front door opened and closed. She set the broken picture frame beside her on the couch and wiped her face. A surge of energy filled her like every time Dawson was near.
Dawson walked into the room, stopped at the sight of her, and tossed his coat on the kitchen counter. "Hey."
"Hi." She stayed on the couch.
She already missed the comfortable connection they'd created and lost because of the changes happening to both of them. She followed him with her gaze and reached out for his hand when he sat down on the couch beside her.
"I'm sorry things are off between us." She put his hand on her thigh and held on. "I don't like it when I can feel myself pulling away because I'm afraid of losing you."
He took his hand away and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back against the couch, and tucking her against his side. "You let me worry about us, 'kay?"
Impossible. He meant everything to her. It would take both of them to fight for their relationship.
"There's one thing you can do for me," she said.
"Name it."
She reached over and picked up the broken picture frame and photo. "I don't recognize the men's names who are going into business with you, and that doesn't help me because I often had no idea what the members' names were when Vince sent them to me. Can you tell me if your business partners are in this picture and if they are, can you point them out to me?"
"Roni..." He exhaled loudly.
"Please. I need to know." She placed the picture on his lap. "The reason I broke it is I recognized some of the men. It wasn't an accident like I originally told you. I was shocked to see their faces hanging on your wall, and I dropped it."
Dawson gazed at the picture. Her heart raced. It would be almost impossible to work alongside the men who'd forced their dick in her mouth.
She looked up at Dawson. He stared across the room, the picture forgotten. She took the photo from his lap and put it on the other side of her.
"Scott, Luchek, and Jerald aren't in the picture." He swallowed loud enough for her to hear.
"I know it was stupid to ask," she said. "I thought maybe it'd help me—"
"One Sparrows member is the same as the next one." He glanced at her and shook his head. "I'm sorry. In my head, I thought there was a difference between the men who used you and the ones I'm going to work with at the garage. There is no difference. We all swore a pledge, wore the mark, and answered to the same man."
"That's not true, Dawson." She scooted sideways and grabbed his hand. "You're not like the others who came to me with Vince's approval. You're different than Vince was, and you've never once hurt me."
He shook his head. "You're wrong. We might treat women differently, but both Vince and I have done bad things. There are things that are too similar to overlook or pretend doesn't exist. We're all motivated by something deep inside of us, and we've all acted on that need."
His monotone voice rolled over her. She brought his hand up and held it to her chest. The lack of passion, interest, and fight in Dawson scared her.
"You're talking crazy." She leaned in closer. "Vince's motivation came from a perverted need to make himself feel stronger and bigger. He wanted to rule over people and have them scared of him, and he succeeded. He got off on knowing that everyone who did his bidding feared him. He created an organization that benefitted from his sickness."
Dawson turned his head and gazed at her. "Roni, you don't know everything."
The sadness in his eyes broke her heart. "I don't need to know."
"You do." He swallowed hard. "I can't do this anymore knowing I'm asking you to stay with me, love me, and believe in what we've got going."
"I do love you, Dawson." She let go of his hand and captured his face. Holding him steady, she kissed his lips wanting to breathe life into him again. She couldn't stand to see him beaten down by his choices. He'd helped her when others had failed. When she herself failed.
"I've spent all night and all morning thinking about what you said last night, and I can do this. I want to work for you in the garage, and I know every day will get easier because you've supported my every step forward since you found me. I will get used to having other men around me. Besides, you'll be there. I trust you." She leaned her forehead against his. "Please, don't do this to yourself. I'm trying hard to work through my issues. I want us to work through ours together. I love you."
Dawson closed his eyes. The weight of his head fell in her hands. Something bigger was pulling them apart, and she had no idea what to do, what to say, or how to prove to him that she truly never associated him with Sparrows past the first couple of weeks of meeting him.
"I killed him," he whispered.
She dropped her hands from his face and recoiled. "What?"
Dawson raised his gaze and met her eyes. "I killed Vince."
She shook her head in denial. "He was murdered, Dawson. You might've wanted him dead, so did I, many times, but someone else shot him. It was in the newspaper article you showed me. Th-they don't know who murdered him, but it wasn't you."
Dawson stood and walked across the room. He stopped at the fireplace and braced his hand on the mantle.
Something was wrong.
Maybe he was having a breakdown. He never properly mourned his sister and instead came searching for her. Everything about the last year finally caught up with him. He couldn't see the truth.
Jacqueline was raped, murdered, and left in City Hall Park.
Vince was shot dead in his house.
Her pulse echoed in her ears. Dawson wouldn't hurt anyone. He went to prison for stealing and customizing cars. That wasn't a violent crime.
"I had everything planned out to rescue Jacqueline from Vince. She understood I was coming for her on a Wednesday because Vince played poker on Wednesday night and there was a chance that she'd be put out on the street to work. The night before I was going to get my sister, she called me from a cell phone I had one of the Sparrows members slip to her without Vince knowing because I wasn't allowed anywhere near her or Vince's house." Dawson tipped back his head and stared at the ceiling. "She was excited for me to come get her and scared Vince would stop me. She couldn't wait to get away from Sparrows, and I told her I'd take her somewhere far away...I had no idea where, but that didn't matter to Jacqueline because all she wanted to talk about was how I needed to promise to help you after I got Jacqueline safe. She was more worried about you getting left behind than she was about getting hurt in the process. She made me promise to save you, too, before she disconnected the call."
"God..." Roni swallowed down the bile that rose and burned the back of her throat.
"On Wednesday, I never heard from her." His broad shoulders sagged forward, and he stared at the brick on the fireplace. "I should've tried to get to her that day. I should never have waited until night."
She stood on shaky legs and went to him. Having never seen him despondent and angry, she stood out of his reach, not that he acknowledged her in the room. He was lost in his regrets.
"You couldn't have known what would happen to her," she said softly.
His gaze snapped to her. "Every second she remained with Vince, her life was in danger. I should never have waited."
&nbs
p; "If you'd gone storming in there, Vince would've had one of his men take you out. It wouldn't have mattered that you'd sworn your life to Sparrows. Vince knew no loyalty when it came to the others, including you." She picked at a hangnail with her other hand. "Jacqueline died at the hands of a man who used her body for his own pleasure. Whoever did it was sick, and there was nothing you could do. The same way I couldn't stop my mom from dying of cancer and changing my whole life. Some things are out of our control."
Dawson straightened his shoulders and faced her. "I'll take you to a hotel. You're better off staying there. I can help you afford the bill until you figure everything out."
She rocked back on her heels and pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart squeezed at the quick change, and she couldn't keep up with him. "You're kicking me out?"
"I let you trust me, Roni, and I lied to you." His mouth thinned. "I'm sure in the hell not going to force you to get in bed with a killer. You can't even face members of Sparrows that I'll be working in the garage with because even saying their names makes you scared."
Her breathing waned. She pressed her hand to her forehead, dizzy over his reasoning and his quick change of conversation. "Dawson, you weren't able to save your sister, but you never killed Vince. You're not a killer."
He huffed. "I killed Vince two days after the police notified me about my sister. Scott held a gun on the guard, and I forced my way into Vince's house. I gave him no chance to ask me why I was there—he knew. I shot him three times in the chest. I walked out without anyone else knowing."
She closed her eyes and shook her head. He'd told her the story before and never owned the part of being the one that murdered Vince. Unattached and disinterested, he stated the facts and nothing more. This time, she heard the anger in his voice. The hatred. The pain.
"The guard." She cleared her throat. "The guard saw you go in."
"Scott took care of him. That's another person to add to my list of people killed." Dawson walked over to the counter and picked up his coat, slipping his arms into the sleeves. "I'm going out for a bit, and I'll leave you alone to pack."
"Please, don't walk out on me." She shook her head and mumbled, "This isn't happening."
Dawson's mouth thinned. "When I get back, I'll drive you to a hotel."
She stepped toward him. "Dawson...?"
He held up his hand. "You don't deserve this shit. I thought I could handle everything. I tried to convince myself it wouldn't matter, and you never needed to know what kind of man I am, but I was wrong. I got you to trust me, who you believed I was, and I'll be sorry about that until the day I fucking die."
Dawson walked out of the apartment and left her alone. She stood in the middle of the living room. Hollow and overpowered by the truth.
Chapter Thirty Two
Cars whizzed down the street. Dawson leaned against the front of the brick apartment building. Numb to the chill in the air and the people strolling on the sidewalk.
Even love wasn't strong enough for him to protect Roni from the truth. She'd shown him that old picture of him in front of his car, Sparrows members in the background, and realized that no matter how hard he tried to protect her, he'd always be waiting for the truth to steal every bit of feelings away from her.
Whether it was a Sparrows member that came after him, a customer at the garage, or the police. The only way he could guarantee she'd survive is to let her go.
He buried his hands in his pockets. Letting her believe differently about him, letting her feelings grow deeper and stronger, he'd only end up devastating her when she found out the truth.
He held no guilt over taking Vince's life, and he'd become just another man who disappointed Roni and let her down. Another man she couldn't trust. Another man who raped her of her happiness.
A siren blasted the air. He looked down the street and spotted an ambulance weaving in and out of traffic.
Within minutes, he no longer heard the emergency siren wail and put his mind back on what he needed to do next.
There was a nice hotel up on Third Avenue. Older, but the security was tight, and the place was popular with businessmen and women coming to the convention center. He'd take her there and get her settled in. Then, he'd keep an eye on her.
If she needed his help, he'd do what he could without letting her rely on him. He only knew he couldn't live in the same apartment with her. He'd never be able to let her go. Forcing her out would be the best for both of them.
He'd seen her face when he came clean. The damage he'd caused. The confusion, the disappointment, the shock.
Hell, he hadn't an ounce of self-control and the words kept tumbling out of his mouth, and he couldn't stop telling her the details.
He let his head fall back against the wall. For all he knew, she was up in the apartment calling the cops on him now. He kicked the heel of his boot against the crack in the sidewalk. Law enforcement could haul his ass to prison again. He'd gladly serve his time and be put out of his misery.
He'd never feel guilty over killing Vince. Even more so now that he'd fallen in love with Roni and witnessed the life-long suffering Vince's abuse would cause her. If not today, some day, his crime would catch up with him.
Two people knew of the murder. Now three.
Secrets never lasted forever.
A homeless man shuffled in front of him, stopped, and held out a grubby hand. "Hey, mister. You got any change?"
Older, dirty, and shoulders bent against the weather, the man checked out the coat Dawson wore. Dawson reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, keeping an eye out for a knife or worse, a pistol, and took out all the cash he had on him.
The man snatched the money out of Dawson's hand. "God bless."
Dawson scoffed.
Rain splattered the sidewalk, and the man hurried away, shuffling his holey shoes against the ground. Dawson looked up at the cloud-darkened sky. The edge of the awning coming off the shop on the first floor strained under the weight of the rain puddled in the fabric. In a few minutes, a tarp load of water would spill down on him.
He wasn't ready to go back upstairs and say goodbye to Roni.
He pushed off the wall and followed the man who had his cash. There was nothing waiting for him up in his apartment, and he wasn't strong enough yet to do what was necessary.
The sky opened up, and rain pelted his head. He stared straight ahead, unmindful of the wetness seeping into his clothes. The walkers sought shelter in the many shops lining the way.
The sidewalk emptied until he was the only fool outside battling the weather.
Behind him, safe, warm, dry, Roni packed her suitcase in his apartment and with her belongings, his heart.
Chapter Thirty Three
Roni carried the broken picture frame into the kitchen, opened the cabinet under the sink, and tossed the whole thing in the trash. She should never have asked him to point out the men he called friends or questioned his ramblings when he started talking.
If she'd stayed quiet and accepted everything Dawson told her at face value from the beginning, she'd have him home and wouldn't be wondering where he was at or if he was going to return. He wouldn't have felt like he had to protect her.
She could go through twenty different ways to deal with what he'd disclosed to her if she had time. But, she ran out of time when he told her he wanted her gone.
Like a complete fool, she'd stared at him in horror at the shocking truth that he murdered Vince Pladonta. Her reaction wasn't over the news that Vince was dead. She already knew that and was glad.
No, she couldn't believe that Dawson would have to live the rest of his life with the memory of what he'd done. She wanted to wash his crime away, and he wanted to hold on out of guilt.
Well, he'd gotten the response from her that he'd wanted. His outburst came out fast and loud, and he pushed her away.
But Dawson never lived with Vince. He had no idea what happened inside that house or what his sister experienced.
The front
door opened. She held onto the kitchen counter and watched the entrance to the main room. A shiver went through her and her arms broke out in goosebumps. She braced for the scene to come, because she'd gone against his request and refused to listen to him when he told her to leave and go to a hotel.
Her suitcases remained empty under the bed.
Her clothes remained hung in the closet.
Her stash of Lifesavers sat in the nightstand drawer in Dawson's room.
She wasn't going anywhere until he listened to her. When she was done and if he still wanted her gone after she gave her all to their relationship, she'd leave on her own. Because she wouldn't need his help if he couldn't love her enough to change his mind.
That thought. That wonderful empowering thought came from somewhere deep inside of her that she had no idea even existed.
She was tired of doing what others told her to do. In twenty-six years of life, she found something, someone, to fight for.
Dawson stepped into the kitchen. His clothes soaked from the rain and his eyes calm. Too calm.
He looked straight at her, and the indifference in his eyes only strengthened her tenacity to fight for him.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No." She stepped toward him, grabbed his wet coat in her hands, and not giving him the chance to walk away from her or turn his back, she continued. "You acted out of love. I'm not condoning what you did and even though I thought about killing Vince, Jacqueline thought about killing him, probably everyone who ever was on the wrong side of his hand thought about killing him, you were the only man strong enough to do the job. None of us, not me, not even Jacqueline, possessed the one emotion you had that drove you forward to take him out of our lives."
Dawson stared down at her. Every second that passed without him acknowledging her opinion had him slipping away from her.
"I've only had myself to rely on all my life. The love I had for my mother, my grandparents was short lived as they all died and left me alone in a world that was too ugly to care about. Jacqueline never spoke about you, because she loved you. It was her way to separate the circumstances from the brother she loved with all her heart." She gave his coat a shake wanting to jolt a reaction out of him, to force him to listen, to see some emotion in his eyes that he was hearing her.