Confess (Sin City Salvation #1)

by A. Zavarelli

  The viciousness of his words penetrated me like a knife, but before I could dig into his anger, our privacy was shattered by the intrusion of Birdie.

  “What the… fuck?” she shouted. “What is going on?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  “How did he get in here?” she demanded. “Is that really him?”

  “Yes,” Ace muttered from behind her as he entered the room. “It’s really him, and I let him in. Now do you mind?” He gestured for Birdie to follow him, but she didn’t move.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I have some answers.” She glared. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Lucian was the one to answer. “You two really are a pair, you know that? You should have been actresses.”

  I looked up at him, confusion playing across my face, but all I saw on Lucian’s was distrust.

  “Don’t you fucking talk to her like that,” Birdie snarled. “Do you have any idea what she’s been through because of you?”

  Lucian looked at me with arctic eyes. “She got her money, didn’t she? I’m sure the few tears she had to shed were worth it.”

  I saw it happening. The rage building inside Birdie. Her red, mottled neck and the way her pupils had taken over her eyes completely. But I was powerless to stop it, paralyzed by my own pain as Lucian flayed me open with his eyes.

  There wasn’t time to speak before she lunged at him, destruction in her eyes. But luckily, Ace stepped into action before she could reach Lucian. Birdie was a force to be reckoned with in her fits of anger, but even so, she stood no chance against Ace. He wrapped his tank of a body around her and tackled her to the bed, holding there as he forced her to calm down.

  I was in a state of shock as he whispered in her ear, stroking her hair while he held her broken arm so she couldn’t move it. For a split second, I wanted to rush forward and tell him he had to stop. He didn’t know about Birdie’s demons. He didn’t know how damaged she was. But something miraculous happened as I watched them. Birdie closed her eyes and shuddered, and then, to my complete surprise, she stopped fighting altogether.

  “Why don’t we take this into the kitchen,” Ace suggested. “Where we can all talk about it like adults.”

  Lucian didn’t move until I did, but his eyes were on me, watching me like I might try to pull something at any moment. I trailed down the hall behind Ace and Birdie, my hand clutching my stomach as if to protect the baby from whatever awful thing was about to come.

  “Father Hawk?” I came to a halt when I saw him sitting at the kitchen table, his face grim.

  “Gypsy.” He nodded in my direction.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “He’s here for me,” Lucian said from behind me. “He’s here as my witness.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by that, but when Ace pulled out a chair for me, I sat down. Lucian sat directly across from me, his eyes trained on my face while Birdie and Ace took their seats.

  I looked at Lucian, desperate for even an ounce of warmth. “I have so much I want to ask you,” I said. “But I don’t even know where to begin.”

  He folded his hands across the table and looked straight through me. “Why don’t we begin at the part where you tried to kill me.”

  “WHAT?” GYPSY SOUNDED HORRIFIED BY the accusation, and for a second, I almost wanted to believe her.

  “You can drop the act.” I looked between her and Birdie. “I know.”

  “Know what?” Birdie demanded. “It seems like the only thing you know is your own delusions.”

  I pulled out the printed sheets of search history that had been removed from her ipad, sliding it across the table so we could drop the bullshit.

  “Insulin would be a good weapon of choice,” I told Gypsy. “But you didn’t take into account that I had eaten a meal shortly before the injection, unfortunately for you.”

  Her hands shook as she read through the printed search history detailing how to kill someone with insulin, and when she looked up at me, her eyes were blurry with unshed tears.

  “I didn’t do this,” she declared. “I never searched for these things.”

  I wanted to believe her, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself for being weak and for falling in love with her, exactly like she wanted. Her actions had destroyed me, but I couldn’t show it. I couldn’t show her how much power she had over me, even at that moment.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that even though this search history is on your ipad, you weren’t the one to sneak into my hospital room that night and inject my saline bag as well.”

  Horror painted her features, and it only managed to fuel my ire when she tried to deny it. “I would never.” She choked. “Lucian—”

  “What I can’t understand is why you were in such a hurry,” I snapped. “I was dying anyway. Was it really so terrible to wait until it happened naturally?”

  Gypsy brought a trembling hand to her mouth as tears spilled free from her eyes. They looked so real, but I’d fallen for that before. It was only after the insulin incident that my eyes had been opened and the truth came to light. She was playing me, just as she’d played every man before me.

  “I begged you to stay.” Her hand reached across the table but stopped short. “How could you ever think I would want you to go?”

  I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t allow myself to get sucked back into her lies. So I retrieved my phone and pulled up the financial transactions that had occurred since my supposed death. The evidence was there on the screen, and she couldn’t deny it when I showed it to her.

  “What is this?” Her eyes moved back and forth as she examined the documents. “What is this supposed to mean?”

  “This is the proof that you’ve been funneling money into an offshore bank account. Cashing out my investments, selling off assets.”

  “What assets?” she demanded. “Lucian, this is insane. I don’t know anything about this, I swear. I just… I don’t know how you could believe I did this.”

  “How could I not?” I scowled. “It’s the game you play, isn’t it?”

  She stifled a sob, and this time, Birdie was the one to answer. “She doesn’t do that anymore, and you have no fucking right to come in here accusing her of—”

  “Birdie,” Gypsy pleaded. “Stop.”

  “No.” Birdie stood, her blue eyes piercing into me. “For months, I’ve watched her cry herself to sleep. I’ve watched her shrivel up and die inside because she thought you were dead. And where the fuck were you?”

  I intended to answer her, but she cut me off as her tirade continued. “Where were you when someone sabotaged her car in an attempt to kill her? Are you going to accuse her of doing that too?”

  I looked at Gypsy, my stomach threatening to empty the contents of my meager dinner as I processed those words. “What is she talking about?”

  Ace interjected. “Someone cut the steering shaft on the car. Birdie was driving it to the store when it snapped.”

  I glanced at Birdie’s casted arm, my gut churning as I considered that if this was true, it could have been Gypsy. It could have been my wife, heavily pregnant with my child. Rage burned inside me, threatening the edges of my vision.

  “That can’t be right,” I murmured. “It must have been a mistake.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake,” Ace argued. “And to be honest, I think the girls are right, Lucian. I don’t think they had anything to do with this.”

  I looked at my friend, who in my absence, had suddenly been won over by my wife, and betrayal coated my tongue. “How could you know that?”

  “Because he’s been here the entire fucking time,” Birdie snapped. “He’s the one looking out for us while you’re off in hiding, letting everyone think you were fucking dead like a selfish prick.”

  “That wasn’t my doing.” They all looked at me like I was the one who lost my goddamned mind. “I left after I got the letter. What else did you expect?”

&nbs
p; “What letter?” Gypsy asked.

  “Your letter.” I didn’t want to show her the crumpled paper in my pocket. I didn’t want her to see how many times I’d read it, studying the words while I tormented myself on repeat.

  Her voice softened when she replied. “I never wrote you a letter.”

  I craned my neck back to relieve some of the tension that had gathered there. This bit was tiresome, and I was over it. I wanted her to admit the truth. I wanted to hear the words from her own lips.

  I retrieved the folded square of paper and handed it to her. She opened it and stared at the worn ink, her face blank. There wasn’t a word said between us as she pored over the letter that described how she wished I’d just let her go in the beginning. How she hated herself for what she had to do, but this was who she was. She described how she dreaded my death because of the burden of guilt it would bring her, but freedom would release her in the end. There were so many personal truths in that letter, and I expected a reaction from her. I expected that this was the evidence she wouldn’t be able to deny. But when she finished, she carefully folded it back together before ripping it into two pieces and throwing the remnants into the middle of the table.

  “I didn’t write that.”

  “Of course, you didn’t.” I sighed.

  “Who gave it to you?” Birdie glared.

  I looked at Father Hawk, who hadn’t said a word so far. I didn’t expect him to. And I didn’t much like bringing him into this either, but I had no choice. Everyone looked at Cristian as I nodded in his direction. He was quiet, his hands steepled on the table while his brows pinched together in concern.

  “I brought him the letter,” he admitted.

  “But I didn’t give it to you,” Gypsy insisted.

  Cristian was quiet for several moments before he inclined his head and shook it. “No, you didn’t.”

  His words came as a surprise, and the solidity of my foundation of truth began to shift. He’d never mentioned that Gypsy hadn’t given him the letter directly. He only delivered the letter to me in what he thought would be my final hours, and that was it.

  “Who gave it to you?” I asked.

  “It was given to me in confidence.” Cristian shifted uncomfortably. “I thought that it was authentic. I had no reason to believe otherwise when I gave it to you.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  He knew that, yet he chose not to answer. He’d given his word to whomever delivered the letter and getting it out of him would be impossible. It went against everything he believed, and the struggle was plain to see in his eyes.

  “See?” Birdie said. “That just shows you that you’re wrong. You’re wrong about all of this.”

  I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t ready to believe that yet just because one of the facts was skewed. For all I knew, the letter could have been delivered by Birdie herself.

  “Did you know he wasn’t really dead?” I looked up to find Gypsy staring at Father Hawk, betrayal etched into her features.

  “No,” he answered. “I didn’t.”

  “Everyone thought I was dead because you’d written an obituary and planned a funeral,” I stated sourly.

  “Because she thought you were dead!” Birdie shouted. “Because that’s what we were told!”

  This conversation was giving me a headache, but still, I indulged her trail of breadcrumbs. “Told by who?”

  All three of them turned their gazes to Cristian, and this time, my confusion couldn’t be denied.

  “He had nothing to do with this,” I said.

  “He was the one who told us you were dead,” Birdie insisted.

  Father Hawk bowed his head and released a deep breath as we waited for his response. It was quiet and full of remorse. “I told them you were dead because that’s the information I received.” He looked up, his eyes cloudy and troubled. “From Nolan.”

  LUCIAN DISAPPEARED DOWN THE HALL and shut himself into his office while the rest of us sat at the table in silence.

  He didn’t want to believe what Father Hawk had just implicated, and I knew Father Hawk felt horrible for saying it at all. Nothing about this situation was making any sense, but even after all the horrible accusations Lucian had flung my way, I was keenly aware that he was hurting inside. Someone had tried to kill him and set me up, and everything was a huge mess. But Nolan was his oldest friend, and if it came down to it, I didn’t know who he was going to believe.

  I stood and pushed back my chair, and Ace looked at me. “You better let him figure this out on his own.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “And you shouldn’t ask me to either. You of all people should know what it feels like to be accused of something you didn’t do.”

  Ace’s jaw clenched as Birdie turned her head to examine him curiously. I probably shouldn’t have said it like that for everyone to hear, but my mind wasn’t in the right place. Everything was so surreal; it was hard to believe this was really happening.

  “I just got him back,” I declared. “I can’t let him go again.”

  Nobody protested this time when I walked down the hall and opened the door to the office.

  Lucian looked up at me from his desk, his face drawn as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. I knew it was Nolan. I knew I would probably have to defend myself again after this conversation, but if that was what it came down to, I would do it. Because regardless of how angry Lucian was or who tried to separate us, I loved him. I loved him, and I thought that all my chances to say it were gone. But he was here now, and he needed to know it. I needed to make him believe it.

  I sat across from him while he ended the conversation with Nolan and hung up. He looked exhausted and thinner than he should have been, and fear clouded my mind as I wondered how long he had left. It wasn’t fair that I just got him back and all of this was happening. It wasn’t fair that I was already terrified of losing him again.

  “Lucian,” I began. “Will you look at me?”

  He hesitated, but when he looked up, I saw the hurt in his eyes. I saw the pain and confusion and the war raging in his mind. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that Nolan did this,” he said. “Is that it?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know why he would. He’s your friend.”

  Lucian’s gaze moved to my belly, his thoughts drifting far away. “This baby,” he choked out. “You know I won’t let you take that from me. I want to make that clear now.”

  I had two choices in which I could react to his statement. Anger or understanding. And in my heart, I knew that nobody would ever understand Lucian the way that I did.

  “I would never want to take him from you.” I placed a hand over our son. “He needs you as much as I do.”

  Lucian’s entire body was stone, and it was clear how torn he was. He’d been down this road before, betrayed in the worst possible way by someone he should have been able to trust. Even though I understood that, it didn’t mean his doubts didn’t hurt. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe this would be resolved overnight, but I had to tell him the truth. I had to say it in case it was the only chance I got.

  I hoisted myself out of the chair and moved slowly around the desk, approaching him like a wild animal. Uncertain how close he would let me get, I stopped two feet away, our eyes locked together.

  “You left so suddenly.” My voice cracked. “I never got to tell you how I really felt.”

  “Gypsy—” He looked away, hiding his emotions over the words that might come.

  “I loved you, Lucian.” Tears leaked down my cheeks as I said it. “I still do. And I didn’t plan on that. I didn’t plan on any of this, but I won’t take it back.”

  He swallowed hard and tried to meet my eyes, but he couldn’t.

  “Don’t let your past poison what we have,” I pleaded. “I know what I was, but I’m not that person anymore. And you aren’t the person who accuses innocent people of crimes they didn’t commit.”

  The last words seeme
d to jar him out of whatever daze he was in as he blinked and shook his head. “We aren’t going to figure this out tonight. You should be resting.”

  I took a tentative step closer, my fingers itching to touch his face. But I was scared of the rejection that might happen if I tried. Instead, I touched his hand with mine, just barely, but enough to feel his warmth again. He glanced down at the place where our skin met, and he seemed too paralyzed to move.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Is your health… okay?”

  He cleared his throat and shut his eyes again. “You should go to bed, Gypsy.”

  GYPSY LOOKED AT ME IN question as I walked around the opposite side of the bed. The side that she used to sleep on, but now she was in mine. “I’m going to stay in here tonight,” I told her. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

  It was the lie I wanted to believe, and if I was looking for a reaction from her, I got one. Hurt flashed in her eyes as she gave me a stiff nod, and I laid down beside her.

  There was only two feet between us, but it felt like so much more. I stayed on top of the covers, fully dressed, afraid that if I even brushed her skin I wouldn’t be able to control myself. It took her a long time to fall back asleep, and even then, she was restless. I doubted the light of morning would bring me clarity. I didn’t know what to believe at all.

  For two hours, I listened to the soft sounds of her breathing, too on edge to sleep myself. I was afraid she would try to run. I was afraid of losing her and the baby. But most of all, I was afraid that what she said was true. She had nothing to do with the attempt on my life, and someone else had been orchestrating our demise.

  I felt helpless and shaken when I considered it. Had I been so blinded by my own insecurities that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me?

  I rolled onto my side and studied Gypsy. I watched the way her rounded belly rose and fell in time to her breathing. My child was inside her, and there hadn’t been time to process it. We hadn’t even talked about it, but I wanted to. I wanted to reach out and touch her there now. To feel what we made together. Surely, it couldn’t have been a lie?