Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BAILEY
Two questions appear at the forefront of my mind as soon as I open my eyes. Where am I? And what is that smell?
I roll over and sit up, blinking as my eyes adjust to the light filtering through the cracks in the drapes.
Leon’s there—fast asleep in the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room, his head lolled to one side, legs splayed wide.
He’s still wearing his leather riding jacket, jeans, and boots. When did he come in here?
I climb out of bed, stepping as lightly as possible on the hardwood floor.
The closer I get, the stronger that smell becomes—like a campfire, or burned rubber.
He lets out a soft snore and I can’t help but crack a small smile.
There are dark smudges on his jeans, and is that dirt streaked across his cheek?
I lean in to get a closer look, and his hand shoots out, gently catching my wrist. I jump back, gasping.
“Bailey?” His voice is rough with sleep as his eyes blink open to focus on me. “Are you okay?”
“Shit, Leon. You scared me.”
He sits up and pulls a hand down his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
With my hand clutching my chest, I let my breathing slow. “It’s fine. What are you doing sleeping in that chair? And why do you smell like a barbeque?”
His posture goes rigid like I just doused him with ice water. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
He exhales slowly. “I may have been a bit brash last night.”
The smell. The smudges. He doesn’t have to say it.
“What did you do? What did you burn down?”
Something scratches against the closed bedroom door, drawing our attention. I step back and he drops his hand.
“It’s probably just Havoc,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Havoc?”
“Yeah. She’s a little hellion of a tabby kitten. Jasper brought her home with her sister, Mayhem. Mayhem’s a little sweetie though, despite her name.”
I open the door and a small blur of fluff darts between my legs yowling like a demon before settling under the bed. “She’s not going to give me rabies, is she?”
He gets to his knees and pulls the kitten out from under the bed. She squirms at first, but then snuggles up against his chest. It’s actually really adorable.
“Of course not. Falin made sure they’re all vaccinated and healthy, despite Jasper’s worry about the shots hurting them.” He’s smirking and it makes my chest pang.
I reach out and give Havoc a scratch under the chin. “Sounds like Falin’s got him under control,” I say, managing a smile. “I’m glad he’s been okay. I was worried about him… about everyone.”
His eyes burn into mine. “You worried about us?”
“Of course. I know losing me that way must have been hard on them,” I swallow and meet his gaze. “On you too.”
He sets Havoc down on the bed and takes my hands in his, his thumbs tracing gentle circles across my knuckles.
“Of course it was difficult, but what we went through is nothing compared to what happened to you. We have a lot to talk about and I may have complicated things further last night. Fuck, I’m an idiot.
” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it.
“I love you, Bailey. I’ve never stopped loving you.
Take however long you need, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Hearing my name from his lips, it’s like I’m in a dream.
I want him to hold me, to kiss me and I’ll close my eyes and pretend it’s summer, that nothing’s changed.
I open my mouth to say the words back. I love you too.
I know I do… That hasn’t changed. But it feels wrong.
He has no idea who I am anymore and saying those words will do nothing more than give him hope that we’re alright.
That everything can go back to normal. I can’t do that to him.
“Leon,” I start, but he shakes his head.
“Before you say anything else, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you last night, but I was afraid.”
His grip on my hands tightens slightly. “What is it?”
He looks at me with a pained expression. “The man who had you... his name is Alfred Colter.”
I understand his words, but refuse to believe them. “No.”
“Alfred Colter is my father,” Leon says, his voice cracking. “My biological father.”
That can’t be right. I pull my hands free and step back, my mind reeling. Alfred... Sir... is a Colter. Leon’s father.
“I didn’t know,” Leon continues desperately. “I had no idea he was involved with any of this until we started tracking down leads. When we found out you were at his estate...” His voice breaks. “Bailey, I’m so fucking sorry.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t look at him.
The man that kept me locked up. That used me like a pet. Manipulated every aspect of my life. That evil man shares Leon’s blood.
“You have the same eyes,” I say, barely able to get the words out. “I should have seen it earlier.”
“Bailey, please. I know how this sounds, but you have to believe me… I had nothing to do with what he did to you. I’ve hated him my entire life. I left England to get away from him. Remember our conversations all summer? I never once mentioned him, because he was never a part of my life.”
My legs feel weak. Trembling, I sink down onto the edge of the bed, trying to process this information.
To line it up with what I already know. “He talked about you. About preparing me for someone important. About his son, who was being stubborn.” The pieces fall into place like a twisted puzzle.
I meet Leon’s gaze again. “He was preparing me for you.”
“Fuck. What do you mean? Bailey… I had no idea. No part in his plans—”
“He said you’d come around eventually. That you’d accept your destiny.” I hesitate a moment, struggling to look at those eyes that are the spitting image of Sir’s. “That’s why he let us go, isn’t it? At the estate. He saw you and he just... let us walk away.”
“No,” Leon says. “Maybe. I don’t know. He’s a manipulative bastard. I don’t know what he had going through his head. Fuck. I wish I went after him. I should have—”
The bedroom door bursts open and Falin storms in. She’s got her laptop clutched to her chest and an energy drink in her other hand. I don’t know her well but I can tell she’s pissed.
“Leon,” she says. “Is there anything you need to tell us?” She drops her laptop onto the bed and opens it. The screen shows a news headline—Massive house fire in Mayfair.
“Shit.” He gets up and walks to the window, turning his back on us.
“Let me read it to you.” She clears her throat and continues, “Fire crews responded to reports of a blaze at the Mayfair residence of diplomat Alfred Colter in the early hours of this morning. The fire, which authorities believe was deliberately set, caused significant damage to the property’s east wing, including what neighbors described as an extensive library and home office.
While the main structure remains intact, smoke and water damage has affected much of the residence.
” She looks up from the screen. “Buckle up because here’s the fun part.
Investigators found evidence of accelerant throughout the damaged areas, and security footage from a neighboring property captured a lone motorcyclist leaving the scene shortly after the fire began. ”
He’s gripping the windowsill, his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Leon,” I breathe. It all makes sense. The smoky smell, the dirt on his face, the way he said he’d acted brash. “You set his house on fire.”
Falin continues reading, “The Metropolitan Police are treating this as a targeted arson attack and have launched a full investigation. Mr. Colter was not present at the residence during the incident and could not be reached for comment.” She closes the laptop with more force than necessary. “They’re looking for whoever did this.”
Leon turns to face us, his posture stiff. “He threatened you. He threatened all of us. I wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing.”
“You could have been killed,” I say, unable to control the shaking. “Or arrested. Leon, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that he needed to know exactly what happens to people who hurt you. That I’m done with his bullshit.” His eyes are tight, lips curled. “I’m not afraid of him.”
Falin runs her hands through her hair, causing the black and platinum strands to fall messily around her face. “Dummy! Do you have any idea what this means? The attention this will bring?”
“It means I finally stood up to the bastard who’s been terrorizing people for years,” his tone loses some of the anger. “It means he knows I’m not the scared kid who ran away to America anymore.”
Falin puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “Listen, I understand. Once I tell them,” she glances toward the door, “they’ll understand too, but fuck, that was reckless. We’re up shit creek without a paddle now.”
He breathes out, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I just… fuck. I had to do something.”
I stare at him, seeing the pain and desperation in his eyes.
Knowing that what he did was terrible and stupid.
He risked everything. Could have gotten caught or worse, and now we’re dealing with the aftermath.
But something inside me also feels sick satisfaction knowing that Alfred’s precious study is charred to the ground.
I hope he lost valuable pieces, things that meant a lot to him.
“What happens now?” I ask.
Falin’s expression softens as she turns to face me. “Now we figure out how to keep this dumbass from becoming a suspect while we decide what to do about... everything else. Fuck, I wish I had my craft supplies.”
“I’ll take care of everything,” Leon says. “Don’t freak out.”
“Says the man who freaks out over every single thing,” Falin retorts. “Good luck with that.”
He runs a hand through his hair.
“You should go get cleaned up,” I say, noticing even more smudges on his pants.
“Yeah,” Falin agrees. “And give me those fucking clothes so I can burn them.”