Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
Zane
A fter hours of debriefing at the King’s Crossing’s FBI offices, Banks says it’s okay to bring Stella and Quinn back to the Crowne. He offers to drive us, and Stella and I cuddle in the backseat while Quinn dozes in front.
The cargo ship’s paperwork doesn’t lead to the Blacks, not at a cursory glance, but they’ll dig deep enough to connect them. In the meantime, the seizure of the ship hit the news, and someone leaked videos and photos of the women standing on deck looking worn out and scared. Ash will know his ship didn’t make it out of Minnesota’s boundaries, much less to wherever the fuck he was sending Stella and Quinn.
My sweet girl sprained her ankle, and I carry her into the hotel. Quinn looks like she’s hanging in there, though she’s pasty white and quieter than normal. A quiet Quinn is a bad sign. I hope after a meal, a shower, and some sleep, she returns to her old self. Stella and I need her.
Stella’s strong, but Quinn’s friendship keeps her that way.
The moment we step into Max’s suite, Max, Denton, Zarah, and Mel swarm us. I want to push them away and keep Stella to myself, but she needs people around her, friends she knows who love her. Quinn sags onto the loveseat, and I gently settle Stella on the couch across from her. I sit as close to her as possible, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. Everyone crowds around us and asks questions, vying for her attention, and Stella quietly answers, craving the connection.
Max finishes describing Douglas’ role in their rescue, and Mel opens her mouth to say something, but I interrupt. “That’s enough. There’s time for that.” Turning to Stella, I ask, “Are you hungry? Can I get you something?” Banks had Chinese delivered to the offices, but Stella and Quinn were too rattled to eat and only picked at their food.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She smiles, and I kiss her forehead, allowing my lips to linger for a moment. I flick a questioning glance at Quinn, and she nods.
I fix them ham and cheese sandwiches using ingredients we keep in Max’s small refrigerator and heat up chicken noodle soup in the microwave. In lieu of bowls, I use coffee mugs, and I give one to Stella, steadying her hands, the brace making it difficult for her to grasp the handle. I steal another second to rub my thumb over her knuckles. Throwing me a grateful look, Quinn reaches for her soup, and I nod, thanking her in my own way for being there for Stella. I place the sandwich plates on the coffee table on top of old issues of the Chronicle.
Conversation resumes, and Zarah sits in my place on the couch, snuggling into Stella who leans into my sister’s embrace. She and Quinn sip their soup and talk to the others, and wanting an update, I call Banks.
Ash and Clayton haven’t been arrested. The women who were trapped in the cargo container are giving their statements, and the FBI is still gathering evidence to connect the Blacks to the ship. They found weapons worth millions of dollars in several of the containers, and the ship’s manifest lists just many stops.
The fundraising gala is tomorrow evening, and I tell Banks that’s when I want to expose them...in front of the entire city of King’s Crossing.
“Others than just the Blacks will go down. Be prepared for a massive fallout,” Banks warns. “The girls are naming names, and Mayor Huxley is only one of their most wealthy and powerful clients. Men from all over the country come to King’s Crossing to do business with them, and they’re given five-star treatment in return. This is going to be the biggest shitstorm since what’s her name in ’93.”
“God.” Apprehension slithers around my gut. I knew exposing Ash’s clients would be dangerous and men who are about to lose their reputations, their families, and their fortunes don’t go down without a fight, but I do not want Stella to be a target anymore and Zarah’s been hurt enough.
“I’ll start putting things in place, but you need to do the same. Prepare for retaliation, Maddox. Lots of it.” He disconnects.
I blow out a breath and pocket my phone. I’ll worry about that later. Right now, Stella’s my main concern and she looks like she’s about to pass out. “Stella, you should get some rest.”
She sighs. “Yeah. I’m tired.”
Quinn meets my gaze, biting her lip, strain pulling at her eyes. She doesn’t want to be alone, but she would never say anything. Tough Quinn Sawyer.
I can’t be selfish. “Come on, I’ll walk you girls to your room.”
Quinn’s face evens out. I made the right choice.
They crawl into the same queen bed wearing the dresses they wore to Ladies and Gentlemen, and they’re already almost sleeping before their heads are nestled into the plush pillows. I lower the blinds and darken the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I smooth Stella’s hair. My little girl. I love her so much, and every time she turns around, more of my shit is flung in her face.
We won’t be able to start living until Ash and Clayton are sentenced and behind bars, and anyone else who’s connected to them. Only then can we try to put this behind us. That could take years, and something else I can’t think about now.
It’s been days since I slept, and the empty bed next to them beckons me. I text Mel I’m getting some sleep, strip down to my boxers, and crawl between the crisp cool sheets.
Stella’s breathing comforts me, and I fall asleep easily knowing that for now, she’s safe by my side.
I wake up late.
Quinn’s still sleeping, but Stella’s side of the bed is empty and my mouth dries. I can’t keep an eye on her every second, but until Clayton and Ash can’t hurt her anymore, I’ll panic anytime she’s not with me. I quickly dress and look for her in Max’s suite.
Breakfast was delivered at the same time it always is, and he’s selecting pastries and putting them on a tray next to a carafe of coffee and three mugs. “Her wrist was hurting and Mel brought her to a private clinic. She called a few places and found one that won’t ask questions about Stella’s medical history and accepts cash payments. Ash knows she’s not dead, but no one else does. Mel thought it best to keep it that way for now.” It would be like Stella not to want to bother me, but I wish she would have woken me to drive her. I wouldn’t have been as smart as Mel, though. Continuing to keep Stella’s identity a secret would never have occurred to me. “Ingrid and Zarah are on the roof. Are you okay?” he asks, holding the tray.
“Yeah, thanks. Go ahead.”
Max snags his laptop case and passes Denton on his way out the door.
I pour a cup of coffee, and Denton approaches me holding his own mug of the steaming black brew. “Good work.”
I shrug. I didn’t do anything. “Thank Douglas. If he wouldn’t have stayed close to Ladies and Gentleman, we might never have known what happened. Nathalie would have disappeared, Quinn and Stella right along with her.” I sip. “Where is he?”
“At the shipyard. They’re dragging the Renegade for Nathalie’s body, and he wanted to be there.”
“I hope she finds the peace she deserves,” I say, and that’s as far as I can go to saying I’m sorry that she’s dead. If what Quinn and Mel think is true, she was deceiving us the entire time. All the work we went through to fake Stella’s death was for nothing. All her pain was for nothing. Ash knew my every move, my every step of my every plan, all because Nathalie was feeding him the words as they came out of my mouth. I was a fool to trust her, but then again, that’s nothing new, and another regret I’ll have to live with.
I debate calling him and asking if he knows where Nathalie is. More games, more lies. I could tell him the last I heard she went to his club to party and I haven’t seen her since, but what’s the point. The seizure of his ship has made it clear it’s us against him, and there’s no use keeping up the pretense we’re still friends.
I need air, a distraction while I wait for Stella to come back to the hotel, and I find it on the rooftop, Zarah swishing her feet back and forth in the pool and holding a mug of coffee. Max is reclining in the shade, his laptop in his lap and a plate of pastries placed on a little table by his side. I’m grateful that despite all the chaos, he hasn’t left my sister alone. Ingrid is also enjoying the late morning sunshine, sipping coffee and reading the Chronicle.
“Hey, Z.” I sit next to her, but I don’t put my feet in the water. I want to talk and ask if she’s handling this okay. Her doctor and I haven’t been in contact, and I need to call and update him soon. I’ll also find out if he’s discovered anything more about Quiet Meadows.
“Hi,” she says, squinting at me. “Stella’s okay.”
“Yeah, she is. Douglas did a good thing.”
“When will Ash go to jail?” she asks.
“Soon. The FBI is gathering evidence, and he’ll be brought up on a lot of charges. How are you doing?”
“Okay.” She pauses. “Can we go home? I miss Lucille.”
Max glances at her and frowns.
“No, not yet. She’s visiting her family. I didn’t want her in the city while all this was happening. Do you want to talk to her?” I ask, digging my cell phone out of my pocket.
Her face lights up. “Can I?”
“I’ll see if she answers. If she can talk, I’ll give you the phone.”
I pass an hour listening to Zarah’s side of the conversation. She’s excited, and she tells our housekeeper everything. She’s observant, and perhaps not as buried under the drugs as I thought. Even she didn’t trust Nathalie. It’s a reminder I shouldn’t confuse her silent inquisitiveness as stunted psychological development. Maybe she can still have a normal life. Maybe the drugs didn’t do irrevocable damage. Maybe Ash didn’t break her.
While Zarah and Lucille wrap up their chat, I sink into a patio chair next to Max. “What are you working on?”
He swallows a bite of chocolate croissant and says, “Something Huxley said that night when he and Nathalie were at the Black Cat Motel bothers me. He mentioned the Blacks’ foundations, how nothing the Blacks did was legitimate.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Neither am I, but I did some snooping, and one of their foundations, the one that helps families adopt children, wasn’t only paying adoption fees or matching teen moms to loving parents. They were kidnapping infants and selling them to families who could afford their prices.”
“Christ,” I murmur, staring into my coffee cup. “Think of the families they’ve torn apart.”
“You’d know better than anyone,” he says.
“Yeah. I do.”
I didn’t know then, but Ash still wasn’t done fucking with me or what little family I had left. Even if I had known, there was no way I could have stopped it. The damage had been done long ago.
I leave Max scrolling through old online issues of the Chronicle, searching for articles on babies that have been kidnapped over the years to compare them to adoptions made around the same time, and grateful she lets me, I kiss Zarah’s cheek. I want to see Stella, and I go downstairs to wait for her and Mel. They should be back soon, and I need to spend some time alone with her. Ash and Clayton will be exposed at the gala tonight, and we may not have a quiet minute for days. Maybe weeks.
I walk through the lobby, and the Crowne’s manager rushes toward me and rattles on about improvements to the ballroom. Tactfully, he asks when the hotel will open to guests, but reopening the hotel is the last thing on my mind. Putting off any more of his questions, I excuse myself and stride to the rear of the hotel just as my black SUV stops in the parking lot. I hold the door of the staff’s entrance open, and Mel helps Stella into the hotel. She’s still limping, and a cast covers her right arm from her hand all the way to her elbow.
She wiggles her fingers at me and smiles ruefully. “I can’t seem to stop getting hurt.” There isn’t any censure in her voice, no recrimination, but the words sting all the same.
Wincing, I ask, “How are you feeling? Do you need to go back to bed? I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, if you’re up to it.”
“I’m okay. They gave me a pain pill at the clinic.”
Mel meets my gaze. “Did something happen?”
“No. I just want a few minutes alone.”
“Okay. I’m going upstairs to take a nap. I can’t wait to head over to the governor’s mansion.”
Ash kept the gala’s venue a secret, and social media speculated like crazy where the dinner and dance were going to be held. Yesterday, in a splashy announcement, Truth or Dare spilled the news online. The location surprised me, and I worried about what that would do to our plans.
Banks only shrugged. “If he’s in it up to his eyeballs like his daughter, the evening will be interesting, to put it mildly.”
I hold Stella’s hand and lead her into the solarium. On a chaise lounge out of the sun, she lies on her back, and I lie on my side and curl into her.
“I’m sorry about all this.” I sound miserable, pitying myself, like a pathetic son of a bitch.
Stella only runs her fingers over an obscene amount of scruff. She likes it, though, scraping her fingernails through my short beard. The rasp scratches between us, itchy and uncomfortable like the situation.
Trying to smile, she asks, “Why? You’re not doing it.”
She’s not wearing her glasses or her contacts and I fall into the blue like I always have. Once the news comes out she’s still alive, her fake death won’t look good. I think under the circumstances the DAs office will understand and offer leniency. On the off chance they press charges, I’ll hire the best attorney to defend her.
“Yeah, I am. Do you ever wish I never promoted you?”
“Sometimes, but then I wonder how long Ash and Clayton would’ve gotten away with what they’re doing. How many other girls has Ash sold? For how long? He could have sold Zarah for years. Clayton would never have paid for killing your parents. Maybe this was meant to be.”
Her words give me a slight sense of solace and I relax. My body aches like I have the flu. I’ve been under so much stress, so much tension, that letting myself loosen up is painful.
Stella burrows into me, and I rub my fingertips over her cast. The doctor had a sense of humor, and the plaster is colored a bright pink. Tiny specks of glitter sparkle in the sun.
“Was it terrible?” I’m exhausted, but it’s not over. Ash’s and Clayton’s tentacles reach everywhere, and I hope the FBI can cut them all off and let us live in peace.
“I feel sorry for the women,” she says, her voice soft and full of sympathy. “They were just trying to survive. Ash used their desperation, and by the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. He wouldn’t let them go. I wish there was a place they could have gone. Women have nowhere to turn if they have no money, no education, no safe place to sleep.”
“We can set something up, Stella...after. An outreach program, maybe a low-income housing facility so they don’t have to worry about rent while they go to school or find jobs. Daycare assistance, if they have children. My dad wanted to go into nonprofit. We can do that in his and my mom’s memory.”
She grips my hand. “I would like that. I always felt that way, you know? The money I earned in payroll, it was always just enough. But what if I got sick, or I broke something and I couldn’t work?” She raises her cast as an example. “I was always one small emergency away from being homeless. Quinn and I fit right in with those women, Zane, and it scares me.”
I brush my lips across her forehead. “My mom’s and dad’s deaths taught me we’re all a couple of steps away from desperation—there are only different kinds. The day I met you, I was at rock bottom. It’s not such a long drop for anyone, it doesn’t matter how much money you have. You don’t have to feel that way anymore, financially or emotionally. I will always be here for you, in whatever way you let me, and we’ll do something to help women in those kinds of situations so they don’t have to feel like that, either.”
“Thank you.” She presses her face into my chest, and I wrap my arm around her, breathing in the light scent of vanilla. I doze, and I think she fell asleep too, but she lifts her head. “I’m sorry about Nathalie.”
“I am too, but I warned her Ash is dangerous. He told her he’d take care of her, and she believed him.”
“Did they find her body? Douglas went to the shipyard this morning.”
“Yeah. He was there when the divers pulled her up. The water hadn’t done much damage yet, and he was able to identify her. I doubt Ash will bury her. I’ll give her a service and buy a headstone for her grave. She deserves that, at least.”
“Another one of Ash’s victims,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“I know you cared about her. You don’t have to pretend you didn’t for my sake.” She sounds sad, and I wish with everything I have that the past five years never happened. That I hadn’t let them happen.
“Ash used her to spy on me and to pretend he valued our friendship. I used her to forget about you, and that’s exactly what he wanted. I was a fool. I’ve broken every promise I’ve ever made to you, and I know you’re thinking about starting over when you don’t need to be in the city anymore. I’m asking for a lot hoping maybe one day we can date a little. Get to know each other. Maybe start something real.”
“I love you, but this has all been so much. I’m going to need time, Zane.” She adverts her gaze and stares at a planter of flowers near our lounger.
“I know you will, baby, and I’ll give it to you. As much as you need. I promise.” I grimace. I need to stop telling her that.
“Thanks.”
“Have you talked to Quinn?”
“About what?” Stella tucks her hand under her cheek, and I brush the hair out of her eyes. Her hair is growing longer again, though I may never be able to enjoy wrapping my hands up in it.
“About what she’s going to do?”
“She’s always wanted to be a clothing designer,” she says faintly, her thoughts far away in memory. “But she’s never been able to afford school.”
“If I pay her tuition, will she go?”
Laughing, she asks, “Is that you getting her out of the way?”
“No. She’s been a rock for you, and I would never do something like that. I want to thank her for everything she’s done. If she wants to study fashion design in New York, or London, or Paris, then she should.”
Sadness creeps over her features, and my heart cracks. “She would love that, but I’ll miss her.”
“What do you want, Stella? I want to give you whatever I can so that you’re happy for the rest of your life.”
Tears drip down her cheeks, and I brush them away with the pads of my thumbs.
“I want a home.”
I can interpret that a million different ways, but I only want it to mean one—her marrying me and us being a family. “What would you think if I sold company? Or I can hire someone to run it and hold it in trust until Zarah’s ready to take it over.”
She sniffles. “You love Maddox Industries.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Stella,” I say urgently, sitting up and capturing her face between my palms. “I will never love anything more than I love you. I fucked up. I keep fucking up. The only way to make you believe me is to stop talking and start doing. We can’t have a life if I’m working sixty hours a week.”
“What would we do?”
“Build a house somewhere. Be together.” I rest a hand on her belly. “Start our family. Neither of us would have to work...” She parts her lips, but I rest a finger over them. “But I know it’s important to you to help people in need. We’ll run our foundation.”
Shaking her head, she says, “I can’t let you give up your company. It’s your father’s legacy.”
“If it meant I could keep you, I’d give it all up.” Every word is the truth, but all I’ve done is talk. She won’t believe me anymore, and that’s my own fault.
She rests her head on my shoulder and cries, heart-wrenching sobs that shake my body and drench my shirt.
I don’t let myself read too much into her tears, but I hope she’ll think about my offer.
Denton wasn’t interested when I asked him to come back to the company, but maybe he would if I offered him a presidential role. Maybe working with me and not my father didn’t appeal to him, but if he worked alone, that would be different somehow.
I can ask Larry Cramer, too, and see where he’s been and what he’s doing now, or I can ask Nigel Wagner to recommend someone. All I know is, if I don’t give Stella and me a real chance, we won’t survive as a couple.
“I’m sorry,” she says, lifting her head. “I’m a little emotional.”
“You have every reason to be.” I glance at my watch. “We better head upstairs and get ready. Banks has probably been trying to call, and I left my cell upstairs so that we could have a few minutes alone.”
Stella presses her salty lips to mine, and I lift her into my lap.
“It’s going to work out.” I can promise her that, at least. Promise I’ll provide everything she needs even if she chooses a life without me in it.
She leans against me in the elevator, and when the doors open, excited energy hums to us.
This is what we’ve been working for. This is what the pain we’ve tolerated is for. To pay Ash and Clayton back for all the suffering they’ve caused innumerable people.
I kiss Stella’s knuckles, and my upper lip grazes the rough plaster of her cast. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
She squeezes my fingers and gently tugs her hand free of my desperate grasp. She walks down the hallway to the room she and Quinn share, and I swallow back an inexplicable fear that after tonight, I’ll never see her again.