Chapter 55
NICO
“If they ever find Nicholas Grady, I hope he rots in prison for the rest of his miserable life. Death would be too easy for him. I want him to suffer every day the way my daughter did.”
The TV’s on. Eden put on some late-night talk show. Said she wanted something to listen to. I understand the impulse. Silence can be heavy, especially after everything we’ve been through. The host is talking, but I stopped listening long ago.
Because Eden is asleep in my arms.
She’s lying on her stomach. Legs between mine. Head on my chest. The position puts pressure on my ribs, a steady ache that should bother me more than it does. It doesn’t matter.
Eden is asleep in my arms.
I gently comb my hand through her hair, following the shape of her head to the nape of her neck, twirling soft strands between my fingers.
She responds even in sleep, making a soft sound in the back of her throat.
It’s a tell I’ve filed away, memorized like every other detail about her.
I didn’t expect I could care this much about a sound, but I do.
I pretend it’s for her benefit. The touch clearly soothes her. But I need this contact as much as she does. I haven’t been able to stop touching her since coming home. I need the confirmation she’s safe. It’s the only way I can stop running through everything that could’ve gone wrong.
If the Game Master hadn’t been numb in Henley’s body. Had felt her pulse, knew she was playing dead. Or if he’d stood over me, expecting me to cut the key out of her. If Eden had killed me when I told her to. I know what the outcome would be in each scenario.
She’ll never be in danger again. I’ll kill anyone who lays a hand on her.
There was a time when such a thought would have scared me. I’d think I was slipping backward. That I’d lose control. Donny wouldn’t have worried. He always said I was too locked down, that the pressure I put myself under wasn’t sustainable.
I spent years building a foundation of control.
Maintained discipline in every area of my life.
I don’t drink. Don’t give in to impulses.
Don’t allow emotions to impact my judgement.
Every word is carefully considered. Every action deliberate.
All to the point where sometimes I wonder if I’ve lost an essential part of being human.
I do lose control with Eden. I spent years perfecting the art of feeling nothing, but that fissured the moment she threw that punch.
One thing I’m certain of: I’ll never hurt her. Morrow forced me through every test, and I didn’t fucking snap.
She burrows deeper into sleep, adjusting her bandaged hand on my chest. Benji better track down Morrow’s anchor soon, or I’m going to march down there and fry that motherfucker myself for ever putting her name in his mouth.
She told me to let go when she kissed me. For those few minutes, God help me, I tried, but I still couldn’t suppress the voice in the back of my mind insisting I would slip, that I couldn’t let go completely.
I haven’t so much as touched myself since Billy.
Every time I tried, their faces rushed back.
Lila. Emily. Jennifer. Rebecca. Katherine.
Celia. I could feel their hands clawing at my arms. Hear them screaming my name.
It felt like they knew I wasn’t really there.
That they might break through to the real me.
But maybe that’s something I tell myself.
I would’ve let the Game Master kill me if I knew for certain Eden would walk away unharmed.
Given how furious he was when I kissed her in the playing area, I should have guessed he’d want me to force myself on her.
He said it was to prove that I’d snapped.
Perhaps he thought replicating Billy’s M.O. would trigger me to, if I was lying.
I tried to shut down, ignore the twist of arousal.
I was already losing the battle when I felt her respond.
She made sounds that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with pleasure.
There was so much trust in her eyes, and I deserved none of it.
I couldn’t process it. Kept waiting for the screaming to start, for her to realize what I was and recoil, but all she did was pull me closer.
For the first time since Billy, my body responded without the overlay of his presence.
It unlocked something I thought he’d destroyed forever.
I want her so desperately. I want to reach under her clothes and run my hands over her back, feel how her waist curves before flaring out to those hips that have been driving me insane, feel the weight of her breasts in my palms, nip that spot behind her earlobe until she makes those sounds that almost killed me.
I press my face into her hair and breathe in the smell of her, committing her caramel and vanilla scent to memory. She’s not Allison. I’m not Billy. Wanting her doesn’t make me a monster.
It still feels that way.
Eden knows her own mind, knows what she’s choosing when she falls asleep in my arms. She doesn’t see me as beyond repair. Maybe one day I’ll believe her.
I lie here and let the pain eat through my ribs until a loud commercial jars Eden from sleep. Her eyes open. When they focus on my face, she smiles.
“Hey,” she says.
“I need to get up.” I brush a strand of hair out of her face. “Need anything from the kitchen?”
She settles back into the couch cushions. I can see her fighting to keep her eyes open. “Just for you to come back.”
Fuck.
I ease out from under her and transfer to the wheelchair. As much as I hate being told I can’t do something, walking on my feet before they’re fully healed is a bad idea. I’ve already got enough nerve damage. I’m not interested in more.
Bob is lying on the recliner. He curls his lips back enough to show teeth.
I understand his hostility. I’m not offended. What that dog will eventually learn is that we share the same objective. We’d both lay down our lives to protect Eden Callahan. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that woman. Or her tiny dog.
I make my way to the kitchen and drain two glasses of water. The pain pills sit on the counter where DJ left them. I consider them, but lock the temptation down. I need to stay sharp. I can handle the pain.
On my way back to the living room, I catch sight of the stack of papers on Donny’s desk and stop.
I don’t want to deal with any of it right now. All I want is to go back to that couch and hold Eden until morning. But I’ve never been good at choosing what I want over what needs to be done.
I get the wheelchair as deep into the room as I can, then transfer myself into Donny’s chair and examine the stacks of paperwork Benji left for me.
The leather holds the impression of Donny’s weight.
All those years of him sitting in this spot, carrying the burden of keeping us alive. Now that burden is mine.
We buried him this afternoon on the property, in the plot he chose near the dog he had when he was young. Griffin had already dug the grave. We all stood around it in silence. Their eyes were all on me.
I could feel the weight of their expectation. DJ and Benji were crying. Zoey looked lost. Griffin was fidgeting. I’d only ever seen him cry once, that day he lost Bonnie, but he looked close.
I needed to be strong for them, so I let numbness settle over me like armor. Said what needed to be said. Kept my voice steady.
I could feel Eden beside me, but couldn’t look at her. She has a way of getting past my defenses.
Only after I went inside and the others dispersed did I give in to the one thing I’d allow myself and reach for Eden’s hand. I know I should stay professional. I can’t expect the others to respect me if I’m constantly giving in to temptation, but I need my hands on Eden like I need air.
The top folder contains documentation for Alexander Wyman: the identity Donny constructed for me from a child who died as an infant.
Donny was surprised when I told him I’d used my real name with Eden, that day I met her.
I should’ve introduced myself as Alex, the way I did to every other member of the team when they joined, but there was a part of me, even at the beginning, that wanted her to know me. The real me.
I open the folder.
Donny transferred everything to me. The house. Bank accounts totaling thirty-three million dollars. The shell corporation that manages our operations. All of it registered to Alexander Wyman. All of it mine.
What happens when someone starts asking the right questions? When they discover Alexander Wyman isn’t real? Who owns any of this, then?
I work through page after page of legal documents until I reach a folder labeled Contingency Protocols.
The first page is a letter addressed to me, dated three months ago. Right around the time his cough started getting worse.
Nicholas,
If you are reading this, then I have died, and you have assumed leadership of our organization.
First, let me say how glad I am to have had the privilege of watching you grow up.
You are not the boy I found seven years ago.
You are a leader, a protector, and a man who deserves every good thing this world has to offer.
I already said goodbye to Donny. We both knew the cancer was winning, and I was able to tell him what he meant to me, but he should have had more time. He should have gone peacefully.
If I hadn’t let that bastard get the drop on us, Donny would have died in his own bed instead of being beaten and tortured by an entity who was only there because he wanted me.
Love fails. I didn’t understand it until I was recovering in the hospital with nothing but my thoughts at night.
No runs to distract me. Donny’s history with Morrow is the reason he died that way, but the risk of taking Donny in the first place was only worth it because it was the first step toward breaking me.
The message was that even Donny’s love would fail to protect me from myself.
Do not blame yourself for an ending cancer created. If you’d like to be mad at anyone, be mad at the cancer, though that has not gotten many people far.
I count to ten. Press the emotion back down until I feel nothing but the dull ache in my ribs.
I’m not naive about your situation. The technology available to law enforcement advances every year, and facial recognition software becomes more sophisticated with each passing month.
We may have taken proper precautions, but it is likely that at some point in your life, your identity will be discovered.
When that happens, you will need to disappear quickly.
I’ve established measures to ensure your protection and that of the team.
If you feel you are at risk or if circumstances require you to leave immediately, there are untraceable accounts with sufficient funds to establish a new identity anywhere in the world.
DJ knows the protocols. I’ve attached instructions on how you can transfer the assets and leadership to her, if necessary.
His handwriting grows shakier as the letter continues.
Here’s what I want most for you, Nicholas: I want you to be happy.
I want you to stop carrying the weight of things that were never your responsibility.
I want you to forgive yourself for being vulnerable when something evil chose to use your body as a weapon.
You are not Billy Lundby. You never were.
You are a good man who has saved more lives than you have ever taken, and the fact that you cannot see that breaks my heart.
You deserve love. You deserve peace. You deserve to build something with your life instead of just surviving it.
Don’t let my death become another weight on your shoulders. Let yourself be happy, because that is the only way any of this means anything.
The paper blurs. I set the letter down because my hands have started shaking.
Take care of them. Take care of yourself, and remember—you are so much more than the worst thing that ever happened to you.
With love and faith in the man you have become,
Donny
I lean back in his chair and stare at the ceiling. Thirty-three million dollars. A team depending on me. Eden sleeping on the couch because she trusts me to keep her safe.
The door opens.
“Nico?”
Eden is paused in the doorway, her good hand on the wheel of her chair. Her hair is mussed from sleep, and her sweatshirt hangs loose on her frame.
Fear pushes through. Did she need me when I wasn’t there?
I force myself to calm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says. “I was worried about you.”
She should be sleeping, not out here checking on me. All I want is to pull her close and let the rest of the world disappear.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I nod. She doesn’t believe me. Of course she doesn’t. Eden has always seen through me. Even before she knew me.
She makes her way over, eyes tight from the effort. I hate that I can’t stand up and carry her. Hate that I can’t take this pain away from her.
She gets as close as she can. I turn the chair to face her. Her fingers are warm as they brush my hair back from my forehead. I close my eyes and lean into her touch.
“Will you come back to the couch with me?” she asks, placing a kiss on the inside of my palm. The simple touch sends heat through me, and I have to grip the chair’s arm with my other hand to maintain control.
She’s looking at me like I’m already the man she needs me to be. What happens when she realizes I’m not?
Donny believed I could be the man in that letter, but sitting here with thirty-three million dollars’ worth of responsibility and a team counting on me to keep them safe, all I can think about is how completely I could fail them.
Fail Eden.
I push the thoughts down. I won’t fail her. I can’t allow it. This woman in front of me deserves better than my fear. She deserves the man she sees when she looks at me. If I have to become him, then that’s what I’ll do.
I move her hair off her shoulders, exposing the delicate column of her throat. “Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”
A sharp knock on the door interrupts us. Zoey steps into the room, laptop tucked under one arm.
“Boss?” she says. She’s never called me that before. “I hate to interrupt this obviously very personal moment.”
“What is it?” I ask.
Zoey swallows hard. “I found a case.”