by Lyz Kelley
“Wait, where are you going?” Haley trotted after her.
She stopped and turned. “Please, don’t try to stop me. I need to find Weston. I need to apologize.”
Haley looked over her shoulder toward her husband. “I told you she’d come around. You owe me ten bucks.”
Mike made a tsk noise. “You’d better keep your money in your pocket for now. I’m not sure Weston will be as forgiving as you others have been.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Haley held open the back door. “We’ll drive.”
Courtney hugged the woman, making a mental note to in the future teach her friend how to hug properly. “Thank you,” she whispered and raced down the hotel’s back stairs.
Chapter 25
Weston nudged the splintered front door open. The security door meant to protect now hung off its hinges. He rushed up the stairs, holding his breath.
“Angel? Angel!!” He threw his wallet and bowtie on the counter and righted a chair that had been knocked over. Rugs had been moved, contents tossed out of cabinets, his television system disassembled. But none of that mattered.
“Angel?”
His heart raced.
He moved around the kitchen counter toward the scratchy meow. “Sophie, where’s Angel?”
The gray tabby blinked at him and then turned and headed for the door off the main room to paw her way through the door’s slit.
Weston approached and knocked. Picking up the sound of weeping, he pushed the door open a little wider. “Angel? May I come in?”
Angel sat on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth for self-comfort.
Damn it. This is all my fault.
Weston held his hands in front of him and moved slowly so he wouldn’t alarm his friend. “Angel?” He sat on the edge of the bed.
The swollen, teary eyes pierced his heart.
“I just learned what happened. I’m so sorry.”
She laid her head sideways on her arms, looking at him while she continued to rock. “I was playing a game on my iPad. The next thing I hear is this loud crash coming through the front door. I was scared it was my dad coming to kill me. I was terrified.”
Sophie jumped up on the bed, and Angel unfolded enough to allow Sophie to crawl into her lap. “The FBI took me and questioned me for hours.”
He balled his hands round the comforter fabric. “It was all a mistake.”
“They took me to this shelter. They wouldn’t even allow me to make sure Sophie was okay. I ran as soon as I could.”
Fuck. He covered his mouth to stop from spewing his rage. “What can I do to make this better?”
“A hug would be nice.” Her request came out so softly and delicately, it almost broke him. He turned and held out his arms for her to crawl into his embrace. “You are the nicest man in the world. How could anyone believe you were holding me here against my will?” She tilted her head back to see his face. “They asked me if you ever chained or beat me.” Her breath caught on a sob.
His gut twisted as the rage blasted through him.
But he continued rocking her back and forth to soothe her. And perhaps himself as well. “I promise my family is doing everything we can to find out who set us up. It seems you weren’t the only one the FBI questioned. Several of the women from the EH shelters were also deposed.” His heart ached just thinking about the trauma such an interview would cause for a woman who’d already been through enough in her life.
“The FBI has been following me.” Her quivering voice sounded on the verge of a panic attack, which wasn’t surprising. “They somehow had pictures of me after I tangled with the bicyclist on Canal Street. They tried to get me to admit you caused the bruises. I insisted they talk to the corner store owner. Mrs. Chan would back me up.” She grabbed at his arm. “I promise, I didn’t tell them anything that would hurt you.”
“Shhh. I know you wouldn’t.” He rested his cheek on top of Angel’s. “I’m so sorry you had to go through another terrifying experience. When I offered you a place to stay, I was certain you’d be safe here.”
Angel pulled out of his arms and scooted around to face him. Sophie leapt to the floor. “Oh, no. You don’t get to blame yourself for this. Nope. No way. This past year I’ve gotten to know how you think. You blame yourself for anything and everything that happens to someone you care about.”
The truth hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. She had a point. He did feel responsible. For Kirsten’s death. For Mackenzie’s kidnapping. For this mess.
Some days the burden of responsibility crushed him. “I like helping people, but there are only a few people I consider family, and you’re one of them.”
“What about your lady friend?”
“What lady friend?” By the softness of her question she wasn’t talking about Haley or Linda. “Are you talking about Courtney Kramer?”
She gave him a well-duh look.
He replayed the scene in the hotel. The horror in her eyes. Her rejection. In every way, she broadcasted her disgust, her willingness to believe the FBI instead of him. She’d convicted him without even asking for the facts.
He rubbed at the darkening bruises on his wrists. “I loved her, but now I believe I must have fallen in love with the idea of her. She’s dedicated so much of her life to helping others, and we share common interests. I adored her inability to concentrate on one thing at a time. She’d be in the middle of a sentence and then see a butterfly or a bird or a child and get distracted.” He embraced the memory. “But to love someone there has to be mutual trust, and she doesn’t trust me. Which means we won’t be able to have a relationship.”
“That’s odd, since the tabloids insist you’re already married.”
He did a quick check to make sure she wasn’t teasing. All signs led to truth. “How do they come up with this crap?”
“Last week I saw you on the cover of a magazine that said, ‘Weston Carver Secretly Married In Private New York Ceremony.’”
The tabloid reporters hadn’t been too far off this time. He had wanted to marry her and have kids. A mixture of anger, resentment, and heartbreak stirred up a dirty cocktail of emotions. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t be seeing her anymore, Angel.”
Since he belonged to such a high-profile family, he couldn’t love, or be with, someone who didn’t stand firm with the family, with him, when things got tough. Maybe he’d only been in love with the idea of being in love. Maybe he hadn’t loved Courtney at all.
The idea lasted a fraction of a second before his instincts erased the idea.
He loved her. Completely. The forever kind of love. He rubbed his chest to close the gap she’d left behind.
“Why? The past month you’ve been happy.” Angel tilted her head back to look at him. “That’s gotta count for something.”
“Yet she couldn’t handle the heat when the fire flared out of control.”
“Ah,” Angel snuggled in again. “I bet she got triggered, like me. We say things we don’t mean when we get scared.”
“Triggered?” Weston’s muscles stiffened. “What do you mean by triggered?”
“I’m assuming, since she owns a women’s shelter near here, something happened to make her choose that kind of work. Word on the street is she’s kind and understanding. A person doesn’t gain that rep without having been there. No doubt something happened to her to create triggers. You know, like PTSD.”
Weston worked to digest the idea, but he still came up blank. “Sorry. I’m slow today. She’s been hurt in the past, but I still don’t get what you mean by triggers.”
“When my dad drank, he’d stack empty beer cans on the counter. I’d get scared when four or more had been stacked. If I was around, I’d get hit. Hiding in my room became the norm. Even now, when I see a bunch of beer cans or liquor bottles, I have this irrational fear. The cans and bottles trigger an overreaction. My brain confuses emotions from the past and the present. I can’t help the reaction, it just happen
s. The only thing I can do is recognize the trigger for what it is and take a minute to ground myself.”
Wow. He absorbed her explanation. “I’m not sure. Her reaction had more to do with trust than with what was actually happening. At least that’s how I read it.”
“When you brought me here I had trust issues, but you didn’t give up on me.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.”
You were safe to love, he thought. I didn’t need you to love me back like I did with Courtney, or my parents, or my siblings. I wanted her to love me for me.
A realization struck him. He never backed away from what he wanted. Never. Unless what he wanted had to do with the heart.
Angel leaned back, nudging his shoulder. “You should give Courtney a second chance.”
Sophie hopped into the bed, and he gave her a scratch behind the ears to avoid contemplating forgiveness. “Since when do you get to have input into my personal life?”
“Since yesterday, when the FBI busted down the door and dragged me out of the house.” Angel’s lips bulged in what he’d come to recognize as her version of a smile.
He chuckled. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? If so, it’s working.”
“Who knew the unshakable Weston Carver, named businessman of the year, and sexiest bachelor in New York city, had a vulnerable spot?”
“The sexiest bachelor? Where do you get this stuff?”
“Instagram.” She waved her phone at him and pointed to the app. “Dude. You really need to stop working so hard. Here…” she extended the phone in his direction. “Call her. I bet she’s worried about you.”
Worried. Would Courtney be worried about him? Unlikely.
He didn’t reach for the phone. “Angel, there are reporters outside, and it’s not safe to stay here.” Angel’s head snapped to the window and she pulled her knees back to her chest. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them hurt you. McKenzie, my sister, has offered to have you stay with her, just until all this blows over and I can get the doors fixed. Three-four days at the most. McKenzie has a cat, and I was thinking Sophie might enjoy the company.”
She rocked back and forth again in that self-soothing motion. “There might be reporters outside your apartment as well. Where will you stay?”
“At my parents or Liam’s. They both have space.”
“Why don’t you check into a hotel? That way you can invite Courtney over. The both of you can talk, or smooch-smoochy.”
“Angel,” he extended her name as a warning and stood. “I need to pack a few things, and I suggest you do the same.” Three-quarters of the way out the door, he paused to listen.
“He’s a mess. Isn’t he Sophie? He’s got a guilt-ball stuck in his gut. It makes him cranky. You and me, we may be wounded on the outside, but he’s wounded on the inside.” Angel snuggled Sophie closer and scratched her chin.
He moved to the bank of windows overlooking the city. Maybe he was wounded. He’d certainly been dragged through hell the past several years, first with Kirsten’s death, then McKenzie’s kidnapping, then Liam’s arrest. He didn’t worry so much about his own arrest. Facts would prove his innocence, and hopefully identify who was attacking his family, because Liam’s and his arrests were certainly tied together.
He just needed to find the missing link.
Courtney’s beautiful face floated into his consciousness. His arms ached to hold her. He’d come to the Lower East Side to avoid her, because in Midtown he’d be able to smell her peach blossom essence on his pillow or on the shirt she wore. And remember the way she looked on his kitchen island with her head thrown back, her skin exploding with goose bumps.
Her disgusted expression when he was arrested broke something.
He’d been convinced she was the one. That’s what his heart told him.
And his decisions were normally spot on.
Why had this one been so far off?
Chapter 26
Courtney rubbed her forehead and pulled a pillow off her bed and into her lap. “It’s not enough money.” She flipped through the financial figures and showed the bottom page to Valerie, who sat on the other side of her queen bed. “I can keep Empower House running, but there’s not enough left over for the programs I planned.”
“Then we’ll figure out how to raise more funds.” Valerie leaned back against the headboard, one leg dangling off the bed. “All we need in order to buy the building is a down payment.”
There was a reason she loved the lady beside her. “I’m not going to buy this building.” She pulled out a map. “This is where all the other properties are located, so this location doesn’t make sense when you consider all the other residences.”
“Are you saying you want to let this building go because you don’t want to be disappointed?”
“It’ll be hard to let this place go, but it’s a good decision. If there was one thing Weston taught me, it was to leave personal preferences out of business planning.”
“Weston, huh?” Valerie leaned back on Courtney’s bed. “That’s the first time you’ve mentioned his name in weeks.”
Courtney pulled the pillow closer to her chest. “I’m embarrassed and ashamed how I reacted at the fundraiser. The whole thing was a mess. First, how I handled that drunk guy, and then Weston’s arrest. I should have been more supportive of Weston. In all the time I was with him, he treated everyone with the respect they deserved. I can’t see him doing the things he’s accused of doing. He just wouldn’t.”
She looked toward her dresser and the pile of little souvenirs from their time together. “I miss him and our conversations. We used to have the most amazing discussions. I could ask him anything, big or small, and he’d answer.” Well…except about the picture of his family. The picture was always off limits, but why?
“Do you still love him?” Valerie’s question appeared innocent enough, but a psychologist never asked a question without purpose.
“Yes. I do. He’s the first man in my life who prefers to show who he is with action. I missed the nuance at first. I was so busy questioning everything he said that I missed the proof that he’s more than just a billionaire with a giant ego.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“I wish I could. He’s not returning my phone calls or texts. I’ve even stopped by his apartment, but he’s never home. He’s not in jail. I had a friend of mine who works for the attorney’s office check.”
“There might be a reason why he hasn’t called.”
“Like?”
“Like the FBI might have his phone.”
“Oh. Right.” The heaviness churning in her stomach tightened. “They would check his phone records and pictures. I hadn’t thought of that.”
A knock on the door made both women turn.
“Hey, Courtney.” Stacia adjusted little Faith on her hip. The toddler was happily engaged in sucking her thumb. “Sorry to bother you, but there’s a man at the door and he won’t go away. He keeps ringing the doorbell, and asking for you. Brutus isn’t reacting, so I don’t think he’s dangerous. I’m not sure what you want us to do.”
Weston! “I’ll take care of this. Thanks, Stacia.”
Happiness buoyed her up like a helium balloon. She jumped up off the bed and sprinted for the stairs, wishing she didn’t live on the fifth floor. With each set of stairs her excitement grew. Finally landing on the black-and-white tile, she sprinted for the front door and yanked it open.
The man wearing a blue windbreaker, baggy jeans and leaning against the iron railing uncrossed his legs.
“Hey, Mike. What brings you to this part of the ’hood?” She peered around behind the bodyguard, looking for a sedan, or car, or anyplace where Weston could be hiding.
“If you were looking for Mr. Carver, he’s not here.” Mike presented her an envelope. “He asked me to deliver this.”
Her heart hammered against the walls of her chest. “What’s inside?” She turned the legal envelope over, considering the size and thickn
ess.
“Mr. Carver didn’t share his private details.”
Mike’s formality tightened the knot in her stomach. “I see.” She ripped open the top and pulled a stack of papers halfway out. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. My. God. He kept his promise.” She slid the pages out farther to read the post-it attached.
For your down payment. ~ W. He’d given her money to buy her building. “Mike, I need to see Weston. Do you know where I can find him?”
“Sorry. I can’t say.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“In my position, there’s not a lot of difference.”
Throwing her hands up in the air or pacing wouldn’t soften Mike’s resolve. He was loyal to one person, and she respected his choice. “Will you wait while I write a note?”
“Sure.”
Courtney grabbed a ballpoint pen and notepad from the message board by the front door, scribbled a message, and handed it to Mike.
“What’s it say?” Mike lifted a skeptical brow.
“I’m sorry. Please give me a second chance.”
Mike nodded and looked again at the envelope in her hands. “It’s none of my business, but I have to ask. Do you believe Weston innocent of the sex trafficking charges?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t have all the facts, but she trusted in Weston’s innocence, just as he believed in Liam’s. She bit her lip, then closed her eyes against the blinding sun and lifted her hand to shade them while she chose her words carefully. “Weston has given me no reason to doubt his innocence. So, yes, I believe him.”
“Thanks. I needed to know where you stand.” Mike turned and trotted down the stairs. “Wait. What about my note?”
Mike turned and raised the slip of paper. “I’ll give it to him, but I doubt it will help.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Weston is a stubborn-ass Carver. Once people cross him, he never gives them a second chance.”
She held up the large, legal-sized envelope, waving it around like a flag of proof. “What about this? He just gave me enough money to buy this building.”