24. Thats how you lose the girl
Chapter 24
That's how you lose the girl
LETTIE
A n ice storm blows in behind Tomer’s eyes, gradually freezing his entire face and moving outward toward his limbs.
Without a doubt, there’s truth to what Viktor said about Tomer and my father being involved. There has to be.
Otherwise, he would have denied it by now.
He hasn’t.
Hasn’t denied anything .
This is it.
This is the secret. The one that could destroy us.
Yet again, I’m left wondering if the metaphorical rug hiding everything I’m too weak to face is large enough to conceal something this imposing.
Finally, he speaks but doesn’t directly answer me. Shocker. “Viktor said I knew your father?”
There’s no quiver. No intonation whatsoever. He sounds bored and unaffected. Although I’ve heard him use this tone before, it’s unlike him to use it with me when we’re talking about something this heavy.
I might be sitting on his lap, barely any space between us, but he’s miles away.
“That isn’t exactly what he said,” I answer. Unlike him, my voice is shaky, timid, and barely leveeing the flood of angst lapping at the edge of my resistance.
“What did he say, Violet? I need to know.”
Colder still. Distance growing.
I’m losing him.
Confusion and dread pool in my gut. Blinking, I shift back, putting a few inches of physical distance between us. Might as well mirror the emotional void.
As much as my heart hemorrhages for us, my head might be in a far worse position. For the life of me, I don’t understand how he could have known Papa. For that matter, what possible connection could my sweet, small-town grandfather have with the Russian mafia? If someone put a gun to my head and said I had to offer a potential explanation, I couldn’t come up with diddly squat.
He waits for my answer.
Unspeaking, unblinking, and . . . unfeeling ?
I attempt to rewind my thoughts to the horrible moment when Viktor had me stand naked before him in that disgusting room. I don’t want to think about it, but if I’m ever going to get answers, I need to face it.
It’s now or never.
I long for never . But even my delulu won’t let me sweep this aside. Metaphorically, she breaks the broom over her knee, crosses her arms at her chest, and stares us down.
Although his face and voice have turned frigid, he keeps hold of my waist, only allowing me the few inches I retreated. He’s locked me here, refusing to give me any further space. It’s the only indication that he’s still with me. Not physically.
With me, heart and soul.
A delicate thread of hope spirals inside me when he pulses his hands and caresses me lovingly. “Is it too painful to remember, sugar?”
Yes. But also no.
Not having this discussion now would hurt more than remembering the entire ordeal with Viktor.
I shake my head. “I-I-I’m thinking.”
“Did he say your father’s name?”
Without hesitation, I answer, “No. He only referred to him as my father.”
No matter how traumatizing it was, I would have remembered if he used Papa’s name.
But why does it matter?
He lowers his forehead, looking at me from under his furrowed brow. “And did he say my name?”
Unbidden, my snark makes an appearance. “Which one?”
His nostrils flare, and his jaw tics. A crack in his icy facade.
Stuffing my sarcasm in a sack, I give him a proper answer. “He only called you my boyfriend.”
“Maybe he was fucking with you.” Warmth slowly returns to his expression and tone. “It might have been a mind game. Something to?—”
I cut him off, vehemently insisting, “He wasn’t.”
“How do you know? You can’t trust people like him.”
Oh no you don’t. No, no, no.
Suddenly, I see it so clearly. Like he’s done many times before, he’s attempting to deflect. Taking the easy path and beckoning me to follow.
My tender heart wishes I could give that to him. The last thing I want to do is hurt this man. I love him. And I saw the heartbreak carved into his features a few minutes ago when he realized I wasn’t taken as some random act.
Only now, he’s attempting to double back.
Given the magnitude of this... crippling pain, it makes perfect sense that he’s trying to retreat from the truth. To spare himself and me the agony.
Same here.
Sadly, the world doesn’t work that way. Truth—no matter how devastating—has a way of coming to light.
I can’t protect him from this any longer.
Although I don’t blame him for what happened to me, we can’t move past this until it’s all on the table.
“Aside from your reaction a few seconds ago when I mentioned my father, I know there’s truth to his words because of Vanessa’s involvement. Her motivation.”
The skin under his right eye twitches.
Sloping his head to one side, he draws his brows in tight. “What do you mean?”
No turning back now.
Pulse thrumming, I admit, “I wasn’t entirely truthful with you or the cops about her role or how she got roped into it.”
“It wasn’t for money and jealousy?”
“No, that part is true.” My voice falters. “It’s not the whole story.”
Unable to look at him, I let my eyes fall to his chest. Telling him this will send him into a spiral of rage and self-blame. There’s no explanation for this other than the obvious. No other conclusion can be drawn.
If there were one, I’d have found it a thousand times over by now.
He must mistake my looming dread for shame over my deceit. “I’m not mad at you, Lettie. I’m sure you had a reason to withhold the truth.”
Damn straight. And if he dared be cross with me about that, I’d throw his dishonesty back at him so fast it’d make his head spin. Bitterness travels up my throat, but I bite my tongue to stop from hurting him more than I’m about to.
With all my might, I fight my wayward thoughts and stay on the bumpy track.
Nodding slowly, I search for the words. “Vanessa said she was approached by some guys a few weeks ago. They were asking around about me.”
“At Bask?” he interjects, eyes and tone severe.
“Yes. When they learned she wasn’t my biggest fan, she was essentially targeted. She claims they manipulated her into helping them.”
His restrained anger shows in the bulging veins in his neck. “Well, that settles it. They were looking for you specifically.” His chest raises with a quivering breath. With his head cricked to the side and eyes searching the wall, he mutters, “That explains why I didn’t find any connections to the mafia when I vetted her membership.”
“What do you mean?”
It would make sense that he investigated her with his military intelligence skills this week, having learned she was part of this. However, that’s not what his words imply.
His eyes flash wide for a split second before he reassumes robot mode. “When I started at Bask, Dante had a handful of Doms who had gotten out of line. It raised some alarms for him, as you’d expect. One night, we were talking about how he’d really like a better vetting process to ensure the safety of his members. Since that’s my specialty, I offered to help, and he took me up on it. I’ve been running checks on all the new members ever since.”
“Oh that makes sense. For safety.”
“Yes.”
Part of me wants him to elaborate on the types of things he digs up, but a more pressing question rises to the top of the list. “Did you research me?”
“I research everyone at the club, Lettie.”
“Naturally,” I respond casually, despite feeling a little violated.
Again.
I need to process this. My initial reaction feels exceptionally knee-jerky, even for me. This is nothing like the other times my free will or privacy was thwarted, yet it feels oddly similar.
A violation.
Suddenly wishing for more distance between us, I shift off his lap.
He lets me go.
Even as I slide out of his arms, I long for him to pull me back. I’m so fucked up.
If he’s in the business of gathering information, it shouldn’t be this shocking that he did a little research on me. No big deal.
So why does it feel like a big flipping deal?
Although I know I should focus on the whole situation with him and Papa, my ADHD squirrel has other plans for the conversation. “When did you research me?”
Dammit.
Off track again.
Once I’m done writing that letter to the Dekalb County School Board, I need to write to whatever company manufactured my filter. It’s flat-busted. I doubt it’s under warranty. Maybe I can talk them into a replacement.
Tomer’s eyes scan the room, looking anywhere but at me. “Sugar bear, that’s another one of those questions.”
My stomach bottoms out. “What do you mean?”
All traces of the emotionless facade are gone. Before me is a wounded man, teetering precariously on the edge.
His answer is barely a whisper. “You don’t want to know. Not now. Don’t ask, sweetness. Please don’t .”
The agony in his tone and every tight line of his face siphon the warmth from my chest. In my heart, I know the two questions battling for dominance in my mind—when did he research me and how does he know my father—are not only intertwined, but they hold the potential to rock me to my core.
I can’t stop this train from barreling down the tracks.
“When did you research me?” I demand, more insistently this time.
My nails dig into my palms as the seconds tick by.
“Last chance, Violet,” he warns, his voice like gravel.
No.
Turning.
Back.
“When?”
He glances at the bedroom door, then drags his hand down his face, muttering quietly, “At least you won’t be alone.”
Huh?
Oh, that’s right. Stella and Freya are here.
Is that why I’m suddenly so determined to face this? Am I only strong enough to stand when I have others holding me up? And if so, does it make me weak?
Terrific time for an existential crisis, dear squirrel.
The flopping sound of the back of his hand hitting the bed shakes me back to the moment. Palm up like it was earlier. Right between us. One hand reaching toward me, with his long fingers extended.
I take it without hesitating, desperate for the comfort of his touch. Desperate to hold on to him.
To what we have.
Before the truth yanks me away.
His hand squeezes mine, and I let the warmth of his skin soothe me, grounding me to him. For however long it lasts.
Voice like velvet, he holds my eyes and says, “Sugar, what I’m about to tell you will change everything. Except for one thing.”
My heart stops, seizing painfully in my chest. “What’s the one thing?”
Give me something I can cling to. Something to pull me out of whatever quicksand I’m sinking into.
Anything .
“Nothing will ever change how I feel about you.”
About this, I believe him.
I nod and lift my chin, silently imploring him to continue.
“I first learned of your existence about eight years ago.”
The bizarre way he said it overpowers the potential implications. “What?”
“Shh. Just listen.”
After a two-second pause that might as well have been two years, he continues. “When I left the Army to form Redleg with my boss, Big Al, I investigated his background. I needed to know about his enemies or anything in his past that could potentially cause trouble for him one day. It’s my way of protecting him and the company we were building. That’s all I was trying to do. I only wanted to protect him.” His voice breaks. “That’s when I found out about you.”
A quick memory of the man I saw through the window the other day flashes behind my eyes. Why on earth is he telling me about his boss?
Too stunned to speak, I sit quietly and wait to find out.
He pulses his fingers again, reminding me we’re connected. “Violet, Lettie... my sugar bear, I’ve wanted to tell you this for so fucking long. And to tell him.” He gulps in a wave of air, a choking sound emanating from his throat like it’s clogged. “Your father is alive.”
My hand slips out of his. I don’t know if I pulled away or he did.
I know he’s not talking about Papa. But my mouth hasn’t figured it out yet. “I was there when he died.”
Tomer shakes his head, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Not that one, Lettie baby.”
At some point, my body started rocking, gliding me back and forth soothingly.
He’s known about me for eight years.
He found out about me when he was researching his boss.
And my father is alive.
Which means . . .
“Your boss is my biological father?”
“Yes. His name is Alan Lancaster.”
The muscles of my face twitch and roll as I work to hold off tears. A foolish attempt.
“Does he know?” I quaver. “About me?”
A blanket of shame falls over him, his entire frame slumping and sagging. I know it well. With his eyes cast downward, he chokes out his response. “No. I couldn’t tell him.”
Some of the blood that had fled from my chest and cheeks rushes back in, warming my flesh. “ Couldn’t ?” I scoff. “You’ve been struck mute for nearly a decade?”
Jumping from the bed, I ignore the pain spike in my ribs. It’s easy to dismiss, given how my mind and heart frantically race, sending adrenaline through my veins.
The offense I feel on behalf of his boss over eight years of deceit attempts to overshadow my own, which makes less sense than I can fathom.
No. Not just his boss.
My father.
My very much alive father. Who has been in the same damn town with me for over a year. One degree of separation between us—Tomer.
“And for the last year, you’ve had the same affliction of being unable to speak?” My voice shakes, volume increasing. “What possible reason could you have for not telling us?”
Us.
My blood. My kin.
I’m part of an us again. Family.
Fuck the woman who pretended to be my mother all my life. She hasn’t counted for a long time.
My vision sways, so I stop pacing and take a few deep breaths, forking my fingers through my hair.
“Why did you do this?” Tugging my hair at the roots, I scream, “ Why ?”
“Shh, calm down, Lettie.”
I don’t know when it happened, but he’s off the bed and standing in front of me. His hands trace the outsides of my arms, and he tries to shush me.
Like I’m a fucking child.
Well, isn’t this familiar? It might have been a year, but the memory of that night at the hotel is vivid. And equally enraging.
“Get your damn hands off me, you lyin’ snake!”
Shooting my arms upward and to the sides, I break from his hold and paltry attempt to calm me like a toddler having a tantrum. When I do, I look down and realize that aside from the scant tank top, I’m buck naked as the day I was born.
Shit.
Scurrying to the drawer, I grab the first few scraps of clothing I get my hands on and jump into my panties like it’s a race.
He’s behind me again, hovering like a damn rain cloud.
While I step into a pair of shorts, I cut a sharp glare over my shoulder at him. “Back up,” I seethe.
“Lettie baby, please . Let me explain.”
“You’ve had a damn year to explain.” I turn around in a huff. Unthinking, I shove at his chest, sending him backward. “I said get away from me!”
“Lettie,” he falters, managing to stay steady on his feet despite the turmoil surrounding us both.
Tears fill his eyes, but I can barely see them through the waterworks of my own and my blinding anger.
“How could you do this to me?” My voice trembles, mimicking the rest of my body. I’m a quivering mess.
It’s all too much. Far too much.
He doesn’t answer fast enough, so I rage on. “Your name. Your job. Your past. Okay, fine. I could have maybe overlooked those. Eventually. After all, Shakespeare said it best. What’s in a name? But this? This ? Unforgivable.”
My head wobbles in a frantic shake, disbelief and outrage bouncing back and forth inside my skull. “Why? Why? Why ?” I stomp my foot, looking every bit the toddler he thinks I am.
Tears pouring now, I look for something to dry my eyes and nose. Whatever fabric is in my hands will have to do. When I pull it away from my face, I realize I’ve just blown my nose on my favorite bra. “Perfect,” I grumble, throwing it on the floor and returning to the drawer to find something else. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Not sure what I’m cussing out at this point. The drawer? My bra? My tears? My nose for having snot?
Myself for being so blind and foolish?
A-fucking-gain!
Never been this angry before. Or hurt. Shocked. Confused.
Wet hens got nothing on me.
He might be trying to explain, but I can’t hear him through the words screeching through my mind.
I chuck off the tank top so I can put my bra on.
A angry feminine voice has my spine stiffening. “What the hell is going on in here?”
Stella. Shit.
I look over my shoulder, confirming it’s her. Having barged into the room, she’s got her fists out in front of her chest.
Ready to defend me.
I finish snapping on my bra and spin around to deal with her. “We’re leavin’. Get your shit,” I announce, making a snap decision. Those are sort of my specialty.
“Holy fuck, Lettie,” Freya gasps, moving close to me with her head lowered and gaze locked firmly on my midsection.
“When the fuck did you get in here?” I ask.
Nonsense question. From a nonsense person.
She frowns, still inching closer. “You weren’t exactly quiet. And holy shit. Your stomach.”
I glance down my body to see what’s caught her attention. Oh yeah. The bruises from where I was kicked.
Ironically, what James has done to me hurts far worse. He dealt the final blow.
Fucking hell. I mean Tomer.
Whoever he is. I don’t know him anymore.
Guess I never did.
The man I loved wouldn’t have hid this from me. I don’t care the reason.
“Oh this? No big deal. Just another asshole man mistakin’ me for a kickin’ can,” I answer Freya, then point at my rib cage. “This one was from a fucker in the nightmare house.” I point at my heart. “While this was kicked right here in this damn room.” I glare at the man I thought was my future and yell, “For an entire fucking year .”
“What did you do to her?” Stella growls at him, getting right up in his face despite being a fraction of his height.
I throw on whatever shirt I grabbed, vaguely noticing how Freya moves protectively in front of me. “Freya, you’re drivin’ so get your keys.” I barrel into the closet to pull out my overnight bag and begin snatching everything I can see that’s mine.
When I emerge from the closet, Tomer’s facing my friends. “Ladies, we’re not done talking. Please, get out.” His voice holds a hint of his Dom side, with threads of desperation woven through it.
Freya glances at me, presumably to see if I want to talk to him. Stella doesn’t bother, not that I expected her to.
Fists to her hips, she juts her chin and plants herself a foot in front of him. “Too fucking bad. She’s packin’ up her shit, so clearly, she ain’t in the mood for a chitchat.”
“Fucking hell, Stella. Stand aside.” He pivots to face me, his hands and eyes begging. “Lettie, please let me explain.”
Stella moves to get back in front of him. “Go on and get your dick in knots for all I care. I know you like that sort of thing.”
Later, I’ll laugh at that.
But now, I need to intervene. Last thing I need is for him to remove her by force. I have no doubt he could do that.
After all, he’s dangerous.
“Not to me,” I mutter softly, thinking of our conversation a few days ago.
Freya hears me since she’s standing the closest to me. “What do you mean, not to you ?”
With my gaze locked on Tomer, I brush past my friends. Stopping a mere few inches from him, I tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “You said you weren’t a danger to me. And I believed you.” My anger dissipates in a rush. The vacuum it causes inside me quickly fills with sorrow instead.
Not just sorrow or sadness. Those don’t quite describe what I’m feeling.
It’s mourning . I’m already grieving the loss of him from my life.
And it’s fucking breaking me. More than anything that was done to me by those monsters.
In the end, it’s this that destroys me.
Him.
Stella or Freya—not sure who—slips her hand around the curve of my elbow, tugging me backward.
I yank out of her grasp. “I ain’t ready to go.”
If I leave now, the mountain of unanswered questions will bury me.
I have to ask him for something resembling an explanation.
Nothing he says will make this betrayal okay. I realize as much.
Yet, out of respect for the love I thought we shared, I’ll give him a chance to offer whatever insignificant explanation he has.
“Stella. Freya.” I look over my shoulders at one, then the other. “Give us a minute.”
“Lettie bear, maybe talk later,” Stella starts, approaching me like I’m a wounded, frightened dog.
Close.
Wounded? Yes. Frightened? Not anymore.
I’m done cowering from the truth.
There’s nothing left of me that hasn’t already been battered. Might as well hear him out. It can’t get any worse.
To Stella, I calmly repeat, “I said I need a minute.”
She holds out her palms and backs away. “We’ll load the car. But one of us will be right outside the door if you need us.” Her gaze shifts to Tomer, warning shots firing from her eyeballs.
I shake it off. He won’t hurt me.
Not physically.
He watches them leave, but I study him, memorizing the lines of his face and letting the image crystallize in my mind in case it’s my last chance.
When the door clicks shut, he finally finds the gumption to meet my gaze, taking one step toward me. “Lettie, I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was only looking out for you. I tried to protect you. And him.”
“What do you mean? Seriously, how on earth can lying to me for a year be for my own good?”
For once, my thoughts are steady. All I want is an explanation. Whatever it is.
Then I’ll go.
On the flip side, if his words are any indication, his thoughts are a jumbled and chaotic mess. “I tried to resist you. I did. I swear. You needed help, so I intervened. As for him. Fuck . I hid it because I didn’t think he could handle it. Not then. It was never a good time. So I protected him. Kept the secret.” His tears crest and spill down his cheeks. “I-I-I-and maybe... I didn’t want him to know. Maybe I was afraid.”
His frenzied rambling hits me right in the tattered remains of my heart.
My hand reaches for him, but I make a fist and force it back to my side. “What were you afraid of?”
“Of losing him. And then it was the same with you. I didn’t want to lose you. You two are the only people who...” Closing his eyes, he takes a step back. Then another. “He was there. He saw me. He knew what he did to me. To her.” Brimming with manic energy, he shakes his head and keeps rambling, never finishing a single sentence. “You showed up. Your voice. And then I saw you that time. Crying and sad. You were hungry. Alone. And I couldn’t let that happen to you. That’s how I felt most of my life. Didn’t want that for you. Couldn’t stand to see you like that. You’re the sunshine. And I was so cold. Freezing until you.”
“Babe, stop. You’re losing me. I can’t follow.”
No clue what he’s talking about. Not at all. But it’s decimating my already broken heart.
He curves his fingers, hands splayed out in front of him. “Lettie. I’m fucking trying to explain. There’s just so much I’ve been holding back. Sugar, don’t give up on me. Please don’t. You promised.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and bends at the waist, sucking in craggy waves of air.
Dropping to his knees in front of me, he grabs hold of my legs. “You said you wouldn’t leave me. When I do the wrong things. Say the wrong things. I tried to be better for you.”
Watching him in such despair is too much. I can’t take it. I can’t . Witnessing his pain on top of my own is robbing me of oxygen.
I take three steps backward, removing myself from his slight hold on my legs.
The agony rips me open and empties me, leaving me barren. The edges of the cuts are raw and frayed.
My knees wobble and give out. I slide to the floor, melting into a pile of broken pieces. A strangled cry gets clogged in my throat, and I claw at my neck to get it out.
He crawls over to me.
And fuck I want him to hold me. Even though it’s him who’s wounded me, he’s the only one who could heal this pain.
He cups my cheeks and tilts my head to face him. I can barely see him through the deluge of fresh tears in my eyes.
“Lettie baby, look at me. We agreed not to give up on each other. Remember that night? When I couldn’t take it anymore. And I came for you. Because you were hurting. You needed me. I’ve always needed you. Remember what you promised? Sugar bear, I don’t want to live without you. Don’t go unless you take me with you. I will leave everything behind for you. I’ll give it all up. I’ll walk away from Redleg. For you. We can move. Go away. Forget all of this. Start over. No lies this time. Please, baby, please .” He winces and chokes out, “I love you so fucking much it hurts. I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I’m nothing without you. Lettie, I love you.”
His pleading, coupled with the tears running down his red, puffy face, come dangerously close to eroding my resolve.
He almost had me. Oh , I was so close to caving.
Until he added those three fucking words.
How dare he?