Vindication: Of Demons & Stones: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Three

by Anne L. Parks

  "A little, but I'm okay with it right now. James seems hellbent on destroying Alex in a way that will do the most damage—and he has figured out that's through me. When he had me kidnapped, he apparently gave them only one rule—keep me alive. Beyond that, I think anything was fair game." I polish off the wine in my glass and refill it. "I have no desire to be in that position again."

  Ryan pats my knee. "Bring back some bad memories of John?"

  "Maybe." I shrug. John had relished in my torture. "It was different. With John, I knew what was coming, at least to a point. I didn't know the specifics, but I knew it would be abusive sex. Then it was just abuse. I had no idea what the kidnappers had planned for me. I was convinced they were going to kill me, instead they just beat me within an inch of my life. It's a bit frightening to think of what James would do to me if he got ahold of me again."

  Silence envelopes us. Finally, Ryan takes a deep breath and exhales. "I understand your fear, but don't let it become who you are. Living in constant fear is not a good way to survive." He reaches for my hand, and squeezes it. "Are you doing any of the activities you used to enjoy doing?"

  "Like what?"

  "Running?"

  I shake my head. The thought of getting back on the trail to run, after nearly dying there, twists my gut into a knot. John had been able to get onto the property when I thought he was safely locked away in jail, and shoot me. The nightmares that haunted me for moths afterwards were in some ways worse than the actual injuries I sustained.

  "I know it's scary, but you have to try to get back to your life, darlin'. Here's the thing though…you don't have to face your fears alone. There are people around you that want nothing more than to help you conquer those fears. All you have to do is ask for help."

  Tears spring to my eyes. Ryan always provides answers I don't want to hear, and then puts them into perspective for me. Some of it is his training in psychology, but most of it is pure Ryan. It's what makes him one of the most sought after psychologists in New York City.

  Using the back of my hand, I swipe at my tears. Time to change the subject. Crying promotes headaches, and I don't want any down time while my friends are visiting. "Tell me how things are going with the pregnancy? Is the baby momma following the healthy baby routine you set up for her?"

  Ryan laughs. "Yes, Rachel and baby are both fine. Doctor says the baby is exactly where he or she is supposed to be as far as growth. Heartbeat is strong. Rachel has begun staying at our place three-to-four nights a week, which has been nice. We've been able to feel—and see—the baby kick. It grossed Paul out the first time he saw the baby's foot sticking out of Rachel's tummy."

  "Oh, God, I can only imagine," I manage to say through my laughter. "And she is still on board to move in with you full-time until the baby comes?"

  Ryan nods. "Yes, she and her parents agree it is better for her to be in Manhattan and closer to the hospital, than out in Queens. Depending on what time of day she went into labor, she might get stuck in traffic and end up having the baby in the back of a cab."

  "Yuck."

  "Yeah, none of us wants that. And she is already pre-registered at Mount Sinai."

  "Good," I say, intertwining my fingers with his, "I'm glad she is still being so cooperative, and not bucking the system we put in place." What I'd like to say is that I'm glad the mother hasn't had a change of heart about the adoption and backed out of the deal. Doesn't feel right to bring that up right now, though. We'll cross that bridge if it's necessary. The contract I put together will put Rachel and her parents in a deep financial hole if breached. But there is no way I can legally safeguard against the emotional damage it would do to my closest friends if they lose the child they have already fallen in love with. "How is Paul handling impending fatherhood?"

  Ryan sighs. "It's a little better now that Rachel is around more. For a while, I was one step from beating the hell out of him."

  "I know it took a while to get him to help get the nursery furniture put together."

  "Thank God that's done. It's harder for him to get excited about something that isn't real yet. He can see the baby growing, he knows we are going to be parents soon. But until the little bundle of joy is actually in his arms, it's all a fantasy."

  "At least you have Gloria to help you with all the last minute items." Paul's mother is a cross between socialite wife and June Cleaver. She loves her "baby boy" and would do anything to help Paul and Ryan.

  "That woman is an angel," Ryan says. "Sometimes I wonder how Paul has half of her genes. She is helping me cover all the bases, and ensure we have everything we need. Rachel loves her, so that's been an additional blessing."

  Sometimes new life can shine such a bright light that problems seem to wilt in the shadows. A new baby in the family is just what I need to remind me that not everything in life has something dark attached to it. Seeing Ryan so happy, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his child, provides a reprieve from my problems and gives me something wonderful to focus on. At least for a little while.

  Really, that's what life is…battling through dark for even a little bit of light.

  Sixteen

  "Okay, Kylie, let's go through it again. Someone comes up from behind, and wraps his arms around you, pinning your arms against your body. How do you get out of it?" Antonio, my Krav Maga trainer asks.

  I take a drink from my water bottle, and inhale a deep breath. We have been working out for about a half an hour, and Antonio seems to be on a mission to reduce me to a blob on the floor before our session is over.

  "I drop all my weight into a squat as fast as I can. Turn sideways, and hit him in the groin with my hand as hard as I can. Then I elbow him in the stomach and run like hell when he lets go of me." My breathing is heavy, and speaking is not helping to bring it under control.

  "You ready to give it a shot?"

  Nodding my head, I suck down some more water, and toss the water bottle to the side. I step onto the mat in front of Antonio and turn my back to him.

  "I want you to remember how it felt to be afraid, and then I want you to turn that fear into hate. Hate for this bastard who is trying to take you. Hate for taking advantage of you when you are vulnerable and can't see him. Hate because he is a coward who would sneak up behind you and try to drag you away."

  I close my eyes. Imagine being afraid—that's easy. John fed off my fear. The louder I would scream during his torture sessions, the more he got off on it. He used my fear as a source of sexual satisfaction. A vision of Muscle Man sitting on top of me, pinning my arms down, and beating me crashes over me like a tsunami. There is no way to escape. My screams are pointless. No one will step in and help me. Perspiration coats my skin, leaving goose bumps behind.

  Hot breath envelopes my ear. I open my eyes and stare at the muscular arms wrapped around my chest. He's here. Muscle Man is back, and I know he will never let me escape death this time.

  "No, no, no!" I push against his arms. My feet move forward, but I'm stuck in place, unable to run. Unable to get away. My head is swimming in a sea of confusion. Nothing looks familiar to me.

  "Kylie, remember what we just talked about. What do you do?"

  A male voice—yelling at me—not Muscle Man. But who? What is he saying to me?

  "No, just let me go!" I ball my hands into fists and strike his strong forearms. "Let me go!"

  The vice grip that held me in place loosens. I take a few steps away, and crumple to the floor. Dragging in a deep breath, I turn my head toward my assailant.

  Antonio is a few feet away, eyes wide. He pulls his hand down his face, and exhales.

  Shit!

  Heat rushes up my neck and invades my face.

  Antonio glances towards the door, and I follow his gaze. Alex has his arms across his chest, and a grim look on his face.

  Slowly, I stand, my knees still a little wobbly. "I'm sorry, Antonio," I say, my voice barely audible. I walk past Alex without looking at him, and don't stop until I'm in the bedroom. So many em
otions course through me. Fear, humiliation—and anger. Alex pushed me to take self-defense lessons. I told him I wasn't sure I was ready, but he insisted it would be good for me. Help me get past the trauma, and boost my confidence.

  He was wrong.

  Dropping my head into my hands, I let free a sob from my chest.

  "Hey." Alex squats in front of me, and pulls my hands from my face. "What just happened in there?"

  "It's too soon, Alex. I'm just not ready to train. I'm still so scared." I look into his eyes, needing the comfort and protection they always provide me.

  Instead they are stormy. He stands, and strides away from me. He faces me, and scowls. "Bullshit, Kylie. That’s such a cop-out."

  "How can you say that to me? What do you expect me to do, Alex? Forget I was kidnapped and beaten?"

  "No, I want you to fight back."

  His words cut through me like a samurai sword through soft butter. My breath hitches. How can he talk to me like this? After everything I've been through?

  He drops his head, shoulders slump, and sighs heavily. "This isn't you." He lifts his head, and his gaze paralyzes me. "You're a fighter. Why are you letting him win? You don't give up—not when John abused you. Not when he stalked you, hit you, and threatened to kill you. Hell, not even after he drugged you and made you believe you were going crazy. Every single time you have been knocked down, you have stood up and showed how you don't take shit from anyone. Not even me."

  He closes his eyes for a moment, and inhales deeply. "Why are you willing to just give up now?" Without looking at me, he walks out of the room.

  A sob sticks in my throat, and tremors move through my body.

  He's right. I have never let what has happened to me, define who I am. I have always used it as a launching pad to be better—stronger. Take control of my life and my future. I have scratched and clawed my way out of some pretty deep, dark holes so I can prove that I can make it on my own, and have the life I deserve—not the one others think I should have.

  If I am ever going to be the person I want to be, I have to stop hiding behind the fear others have forced on me, and throw it back at them. What did Antonio say, "turn the fear into hate?" Good advice.

  And a good place to start.

  Alex is in his study, staring out the floor to ceiling picture window. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead along his shoulder.

  "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have snapped at you and then left like that."

  "I'm not. I needed to hear it. You're right, I'm not me right now, and I need to get back there. Ryan says I need to ask for help…so, this is me asking for help."

  Facing me, he takes my face in his hands. "Tell me what I can do, and I'll do it. Anything. There is nothing I wouldn't do to get us back on track."

  "Train with me. You balance me, and keep me focused. It's too easy for me to get lost in my head and let the fear take over."

  "There she is." Alex whispers, and there is awe in his tone.

  "Who?"

  "The strongest woman I know. The fighter. The woman who never gives up."

  Warmth fills my chest, radiating out to my limbs. This is why I love him to the depths of my soul.

  He brushes his lips against mine. "I'll talk to Antonio, and we can start tomorrow." He presses his lips against mine, coaxing my lips apart, his tongue sweeps inside my mouth. A sweet shiver rolls down my spine, and tingles hit low in my belly.

  "I'm going to go take a shower," I say against his lips.

  His smile spreads across my lips. "Need any help?"

  "Always."

  * * *

  I have agreed to stay close to the house, and limit my time off the estate. Alex is still on edge about James and his threat to return and create chaos in our lives. Following Ryan's advice, I ask Thomas to run with me. We still take the trail that follows the perimeter of the property, but in the opposite direction I used to run. Turns out, the entire landscape changes, and I rarely feel the overwhelming apprehension I felt running this trail.

  I enter the house through the french doors in the family room. I desperately need a shower. Thomas decided we should pick up the pace today, and it nearly kicked my ass. I haven't sweat like this from a run in a long time.

  Alex is in the kitchen going through the mail. I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and lean against the counter opposite him.

  He holds out a lavender colored envelope to me. "Do you know who sent this? I'm guessing it's a wedding card, but I don't recognize the name on the return address."

  Setting my water on the counter next to me, I take the envelope. I recognize the handwriting immediately. Damn, I should have known she would contact me sooner or later.

  "No one important," I say, and walk over to the trash can.

  He snags the envelope from hand before I can throw it away. "Who is—" he glances at the return address, "—Angelina Delaney?"

  "My mother."

  "Oh." He's quiet for a moment. "Are you sure you don't want to at least see what she has to say?"

  "There is nothing she can say that means anything to me, Alex." I take the card from him and toss it in the trash. "Just leave it alone, please, and let me handle my mother the way I think is best."

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he gives me a hard and fast kiss. "Baby, we will handle this anyway that you want."

  "Thank you. Now, I'm going to change and sit in the hot tub before all of my muscles lock up and I'm unable to walk."

  "Thomas still working you hard?"

  "Yeah, I think he's punishing me for something I did to him in the past."

  Alex chuckles and walks with me down the hallway to our bedroom.

  "Are you going to hot tub with me?" I ask.

  A deep groan rumbles through his chest. "Very tempting," he says, his eye roaming over my body. "I have to get some work done."

  Disappointment runs through me, but this is the man I married. He is—and always will be—a highly successful businessman. "Go, then, husband," I say, leaning in to kiss him. "Get your work done, so I can have you all to myself later."

  Seventeen

  Slipping into the hot water, I drop my head back against the headrest, and close my eyes. The jets hit me in just the right places along my back, working out the kinks in my muscles.

  Next to me, my cell phone buzzes. Opening one eye, I glance at the screen, Ryan's name flashing across it. Sitting up and drying my hands on my towel, I pick up the phone and hit the answer button.

  "Hey, Ry. What's up?"

  I listen to Ryan spew information at me. I step out of the hot tub and grab my towel, trying to wrap it around me with one hand. Ending the call, I quickly dry off and head inside.

  Alex is sitting at his desk, pounding on the keys of the laptop.

  "Alex, we have to go," I say. "The baby is coming."

  His head snaps up, his wide eyes boring into me. "Excuse me?"

  "The baby—it's coming. We need to get up to New York."

  Releasing his breath, Alex murmurs, "Right, Paul and Ryan."

  "Yeah, Paul and Ryan…and Ryan is already freaking out. It's a week before her due date, and no amount of me trying to explain that due dates are not an exact science seemed to penetrate his brain."

  Alex presses a button on his cell phone and lifts it to his ear, but his gaze is on me. "I'll call for the helicopter to pick us up here. You pack a bag for us while I bring Jake up to speed."

  Just over an hour later, the Stone Holdings helicopter sets down on the rooftop of a business a couple of blocks away from the hospital. Alex had gotten ahold of the CEO of the company that owns the building and asked for use of his heli-pad. I'm not sure I will ever get used to the fact that I have a fleet of flying aircraft at my disposal—at a moments notice.

  A rush of excitement washes over me as I step off the elevator onto the maternity floor. Alex squeezes my hand, and I look into his sparkling blue eyes. He's just as excited about this baby as me.

 
; I hope we've made it before the baby's been born. I really want to be here with Ryan and Paul when they find out if they have a little boy or girl. This is the closest I will ever come to having a child, and I want to experience as much of this moment with them as I can. The three of us share a strange bond—we will never experience natural childbirth. I've come to accept that I will never have children, and Alex and I agree that kids are not in our future. Not even through adoption. I'm very happy in my current role as auntie. All the fun, none of the responsibility.

  Entering the waiting area, I spot Paul's mother, Gloria. When her eyes meet mine, I notice the tears in them. But there's no smile on her face. I drop Alex's hand and rush toward her.

  "Oh, Kylie, thank goodness you're here," she says, wrapping her arms around me.

  I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat. "What's wrong?"

  Stepping back, she glances at Alex and offers a small smile, inviting him into the conversation. "There were complications during delivery, and they've taken Rachel into surgery to perform a ,c-section."

  I breath out a sigh of relief. C-sections are performed everyday. Surely, this is not as fatalistic as Gloria's reaction would make it appear to be. "Well, that's pretty common, isn't it?"

  Gloria shakes her head. "In this case, it's not good news. Apparently, the baby was moving into the birth canal too slowly. They tried readjusting, but the umbilical cord came out—ahead of the baby."

  "And that's bad?" I'm trying to follow along, but, really, I've never paid much attention to child birthing issues, and have no idea what is normal and what's not.

  Gloria shakes her head, and wipes tears away with a tissue. "Very bad. It can cause a few problems, the worst being that oxygen is cut off to the baby during delivery."

  My skin prickles. All the air rushes from my lungs as if I've been sucker punched in the stomach. I glance around the waiting area. Robert, Paul’s father, is sitting on a love seat with his arm draped around Paul's sister, Kayla's, shoulder. Her head is down, and her long blonde hair obscures her face from view. Robert has deep creases along his forehead, but it's the vacant expression in his eyes that twists my heart into a painful pretzel.