Chapter 6
The vehicle turns, and I stretch my neck to the realization that we’re now headed down a two-lane road lined with trees, and I have no idea where we are other than somewhere in Jersey, or so distance suggests. And I don’t even care. I care about Damion. I glance at my ring again, still half living my memory. He’d been certain I would hate him. No wonder he so easily believes I do now.
Still hyperaware of Adam’s silent presence, I once again peek over at him. “Anything from Damion?”
His lips thin, and he shakes his head.
“I need to talk to him,” I say.
“I don’t disagree,” he assures me, but he offers nothing more. He doesn’t know where he is, but in my heart, I believe Adam will try to bring us together.
I breathe out an emotion-laden breath and give a short nod, turning away from Adam to glance out of the window without really seeing anything at all. Damion made confessions to me he thought I’d condemn him for, and I did not. He has to know nothing has changed. I snatch up my phone, but in mixed company, resist the urge to try to call Damion again and instead write him a text, relaying many of the thoughts I’ve had on this drive: I’m sorry. I have handled this all wrong. I wanted to protect you by ending your father. I was willing to throw myself on the sword to do so, and I knew you’d never let that happen. It wasn’t hate that made me turn my back on you. It was love. It is love. Please call me. Please.
I wait for a reply, and wait some more.
He doesn’t answer.
“I’ll need your phone,” Adam abruptly announces.
I blanch and glance over at him. “What?”
“We need to ensure you aren’t followed.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” I ask.
“We scrambled your location, but it’s not a long-term fix. This is.”
“Okay,” I breathe out, trying to take this all in. “Am I in that much danger?”
“We err on the cautious side of safety.” He offers me a new phone. “You can use this one. And before you let your mind go nuts over this, yes, Damion has the number.”
Air gushes from my lips, relief flowing through me. Ironically, considering it’s what I said I wanted, the idea of completely disconnecting from Damion is unbearable. With nerves fluttering through my belly, I hand Adam my phone. He opens it and messes with it a bit before he adds, “Your calls will be forwarded to your new line. Any call you make will look like it comes from your original line, but don’t make any calls. Not until we clear you.”
I incline my chin, and once the transition of phones is complete, I become aware of my racing heart, willing the beating to slow, to calm. But adrenaline is controlling me, and with good reason. The caution with which Walker is operating screams of something far more wrong than I believe there to be. Their actions speak of a real threat—one no one seems to want to share with me, or at least Adam will not. He’s made that clear.
Fifteen minutes later, we approach the property I assume will be our destination as it’s the only place in view. The house is a secluded, sprawling white mansion that stretches far and wide and is framed by manicured bushes and trees. “It seems like a big place to protect,” I murmur softly, comforting myself with the view of a couple of vehicles already present, either of which could have delivered Damion here first.
“It’s locked down,” Adam assures me as we halt, and he’s already opening his door.
The window between me and Savage rolls down, and he glances over his shoulder to speak to me. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. Am I?”
“You have me,” he says, with a wink. “Of course you’re okay.”
I don’t miss the absence of one of his stupid jokes or statements he’s all but famous for with everyone. There’s a seriousness to Savage that is unfamiliar and, yes, dangerous. “Can I get out?”
“You can do whatever you want to do here at the property. It’s locked down.”
Locked down.
Exactly what Adam had said. Why do those words bother me so much?
“Is Damion here?”
His lips thin. “I don’t know.”
He knows, I think. He just doesn’t want to tell me.
Either way, I decide that’s better than him definitely not being here. I reach for the door and step outside to find Adam waiting on me. He motions me toward the front of the house, and we start walking that direction. “How long do you plan to keep me out here?”
“Until we know you’re safe.”
“It’s West Senior,” I remind him. “I’ll never be safe until he’s in jail, and staying here forever isn’t an option.”
“You don’t give us enough credit,” he assures me. “Or Damion, for that matter.”
We reach the steps, and I turn to face him. “What does that even mean? You told me Damion wants to kill his father. That’s not a solution I want to give him credit for.”
“We’ll stop him from doing anything crazy,” he says.
“You said that will require my input, and you won’t even tell me if he’s here. What is Damion doing? What is he planning?”
“You’ll have to talk to Damion about that.”
“And how do you suggest I do that? He won’t take my calls or answer my messages.”
“It’ll work out, Alana,” he assures me softly, but he offers no more and changes the subject. “You have the entire upper level of the house. There’s a bedroom, a full kitchen, and even a gym. All of your things from the room you’d rented at the Ritz are already there.”
“Of course,” I say. “You’re Walker Security. You knew I’d be here before I knew I’d be here.”
“But nobody else knows,” he reminds me and indicates the stairs.
I sigh and walk up the stairs, only to have him reach the porch before me and punch in a code. He opens the door for me. I draw in a breath, hoping and praying Damion will be inside, my actions eager as I enter the foyer. Instinct somehow pulls my gaze upward for a brief glance at the donut-shaped chandelier above me, which I dismiss quickly. My attention rockets toward the right to the living area. The furniture is leather, and the fireplace is broad and dormant. The room is empty, and I feel this realization with a punch in my belly.
Damion isn’t here, at least not where I can see him.
“The fridge upstairs is stocked,” Adam says as he joins me, “at least with the basics. We can go to the store later and get you whatever you want. Me and Savage will be close if you need us.”
Savage enters the foyer behind us, and it hits me that Damion could be upstairs waiting on me, and my adrenaline surges all over again. Without a word, I launch myself up the stairs, only to have Adam call out, “There’s a pool behind the house, Alana. Take a swim if you like. It might calm your nerves.”
I don’t care about a pool or swimming or anything but Damion, and I don’t bother to respond. I reach the landing and look left and right. The double doors to the right indicate the bedroom to me, and I rush in that direction, enter, and barely spy the room for my search for Damion. My disappointment is real and fast. Again, he’s not here. The room is empty. I am empty. I rush out of the room and down the hallway, and find the kitchen and gym with no rewards in my search.
With that sense of disappointment absolutely consuming me, I walk back into the bedroom and find myself at the window overlooking the massive rectangular pool with manicured shrubs framing it, sheltering it and another small house—a cottage. Adam’s words replay in my head: “There’s a pool behind the house, Alana. Take a swim if you like. It might calm your nerves.”
It seemed like a random thing to say, but that’s not Adam’s personality. He’s not random in anything he does. It was a message. He wants me to go to that pool, and that must mean it leads me to Damion. I don’t know how, and I don’t care. I just need to find Damion.
I hope. Maybe I’m reaching. Either way, I whirl around, rush to my bag, and pull out the swimsuit I’d bought at the Ritz to swim off my stress. A few minutes later, I’m in sandals, a cover-up, and my suit when I rush down the stairs. Once I’m in the foyer, I find Savage and Adam sitting in the living room, speaking in low tones.
“I’m going to the pool,” I announce.
Adam’s gaze lifts and meets mine. “Good decision. Turn around and go out the back door through the main living area.”
That’s all I need to hear. I rotate, and I’m on the other side of the house, exiting in no time. In a flash, I’m inside those manicured bushes, kicking off my shoes and tearing away my cover-up. I step to the end of the pool and wade into the chilly water, shivering with the temperature, but praying Damion is watching me and that he will come to me. I’m all the way to my neck when my gaze lands on the cottage in the gap of scrubs at the end of the pool.
There were other vehicles when we drove up. We are not alone.
Damion’s here.
And he’s choosing not to come to me. I swim back to the edge of the pool, and frustration starts to form inside me. So many times he walked away from me, and he can’t give me this one time when grief was controlling me. I walk up the steps and sit on the edge, willing Damion to show up, my mind traveling back in time yet again as I remember the last time he tried to walk away. And why? Because of his father.
“You don’t fucking know, Alana. People disappear when they cross him, and I made a few of the calls to Caleb to make it happen.”
“So you implied. I get it. I already said I get it.”
“You’re doing what I did. You’re pretending it doesn’t really matter. You”re pretending it’s not what you think.I pretendedbeing the messenger didn’t matter, but it did.” He presses his hand to his face and drops it, a bitter laugh sliding from his lips. “Ironically, it was the guy who I helped him drive to suicide that finally woke me up. He fucking did it in front of me, shot himself, and I blinked, and his blood was all over me. I couldn’t pretend that wasn’t real. Fuck. I need to go out for a while.” He turns, offering me his back, his shoulders knotted beneath his tee.
At this point, everything he’s spoken in the last two minutes is exploding in my mind in mini little blasts of information, but none of it shocks me. His father is a brutal monster, and Damion had already warned me this was coming. He faces me, lets me see the suffering in his eyes. “I’ll be back later.” He starts walking.
I’m gutted by the level of pain I see in his eyes—the soul-deep pain tearing at him and now me—but it’s that very reaction that tells me he’s the same man I fell in love with years ago. Who I still love now, but I’m also furious with him. He’s walking away. He’s leaving. Damn him. “I thought you weren’t doing this again, Damion,” I shout after him. “Every time you just walk away. That’s what’s tearing us apart. I told you I wouldn’t move in with you if you were going to do this, and yet, here we are, one night in, and you”re leaving again.”
He whirls on me, not as far away as I’d thought, his emotions dark and suffocating in their intensity. “What part of you’re better off without me do you not get? I tried to leave you alone, Alana. I stayed away. You should have fucking married someone else.”
I recoil and hug myself. “Okay. Yes. Okay.” Tears prickle in my eyes, and I hurt. I hurt so very badly, the way only he can hurt me.
He curses, and then he’s in front of me, pulling me to him, and his touch is fire—the friction between us flames. “That’s not what I want,” he says, his voice a gravelly, rough baritone. “It’s not what I haveever wanted,but did you not hear what I told you? I’m not a good person, Alana. Why the hell are you not the one walking to the door?”
“Because I love you, and I don’t think love is logical. I also know you’re not your father. You want to make things right, so do it. Make things right. And stop walking away, damn it. Just stop!” The words are all but ripped from my throat by way of my emotions.
His hands come down on my face, and he tilts my gaze to his. “I’m standing right here. I’m right here, Alana.”
“But you wanted to walk away.”
“I didn’t want to look in your eyes after I told you what I’d done. I didn’t want to see the rejection.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m not the boy next door anymore.”
Tension uncurls in my belly with his confession, and my fingers curl on his jaw. “You are to me,” I whisper.
He pulls back to stare down at me, his fingers fanning my face, and the torment I’d seen in him moments before has gone nowhere. “I don’t deserve you.” With this declaration, his mouth closes over mine, and I moan with the deep stroke of tongue, gone too soon as he tears his mouth from mine. “I’m not good for you.”
“Those words are destructive. You know that, right? They drive us apart.”
“I want to be your hero, baby, but the stakes are high. You have to know that.”
My fingers ball in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “There’s a way to fix this. There’s always a way.”
“Not as long as he’s alive. That’s the cold, hard truth.”
I jolt back to the present. He’s going to kill his father. And that’s exactly why he’s not coming to me. The same reason I didn’t want him close to me. I didn’t want him to stop me from doing what I needed to do. He doesn’t want me to stop him from killing his father. But he’s telling himself it’s because I hurt him. He’s telling himself lies, just like I was telling myself lies.
I push to my feet and step out of the pool, suddenly aware that I don’t have a towel and that I don’t even care. I slide my shoes back on, grab my cover-up, but don’t bother pulling it on, carrying it with me as I all but run toward that cottage. I’m through the shrubs in a blink and standing at the door when a small part of my mind warns that I could be offering my half-naked self to someone else, but everything inside me says this is Damion.
The door opens, and Damion is standing there, still in his suit, his expression colder than the water, but I’m not dissuaded. “You walked away from me so many times to ‘protect’ me, as you called it, and I do it one time and you shut me out? How is that fair? And I love you too much to ever hate you, but being pissed at you like I am right now is another story. I’m pissed at you. I’m so very pissed at you. Why would you let me—”
He grabs me and pulls me to him, and then glances over his shoulder. “Leave,” he orders to whoever is with him.
A moment later, he’s pulled me inside, shut the door, and folded me close. “Why would I let you what, Alana?”