Chapter 11
Lachlan damn near broke the door off its hinges as he barreled into his home, rounding the corner from the garage into the living room.
“Where is she?” he asked, fear lodged in his throat as he glanced around for his little girl.
After he landed the helicopter at the King Family private heliport, his cell phone had dinged like crazy with phone calls and text messages from the Goat Scout Summer Camp coordinator and then from Stacy.
He read each one with lightning speed as he raced to his SUV.
Titus Freeman was dead and buried, but his daughter was still in danger.
This time, from some random psycho with a knife, chasing an unknown woman through the park where the kids in Paloma’s camp were playing.
His only solace was that Paloma wasn’t the target.
No one was after her, but the situation had left tourists and locals stunned by the brazen chase and attack through the streets of Conrad.
And he hadn’t been on the island when his little girl needed him.
Stacy jumped from the couch, turning to face him. “She’s fine. Poor thing passed out once we got here. I put her to bed.”
He inhaled a sharp breath. “Thank you for picking her up. For being there for her despite … everything going on between us.”
“Where were you?” Stacy demanded.
Lachlan frowned, raking a hand through his hair. He didn’t have time for an inquisition. “Stace, I need to see her with my own eyes. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He headed down the hallway to the study he’d converted into a bedroom for Paloma.
He had to see for himself that Paloma was okay.
He couldn’t imagine the hell she and the other children had gone through, fearing for their lives.
It tore at his heart that she’d witnessed the strange, unexpected crime.
It was enough to leave anyone rattled, especially on a sleepy island like St. Felipe, which had been immune to the crimes dominating St. Killian.
It had to be more traumatizing for children who couldn’t make sense of what was going on or why. He’d protected Paloma from Titus Freeman her whole life, but he couldn’t fucking protect her from the randomness of threats that lurked every day in the world.
The thought made him physically ill.
It was every parent’s worst nightmare.
Turning the doorknob, Lachlan stepped inside.
Relief flooded him as he rushed to the bed, kneeling beside it.
He rested a hand gently on Paloma’s face as she lay sprawled like a wild sleeping beauty, legs and arms at weird angles, and her blanket twisted around her body.
Her dark, curly pigtails spread across her pillow like feathered fans. Soft snores escaped her lips.
Every part of him wanted to snatch her from the bed, hold her, and never let her go.
But she’d been through enough today. Any wrong move could trigger more panic and fear, which was the last thing he wanted.
Rest was what she needed most. He reached for the blanket, carefully lifting her limbs to untangle it and spread it across her body.
She didn’t stir an inch as he kissed her gently on the forehead, then eased out of her room.
He was only two steps into the living room when Stacy descended upon him with suspicion in her eyes. “We didn’t have a flight on the schedule. Why weren’t you on the island when all this went down?”
He bristled at her rebuke, the subtle demand in her tone as if she was owed an explanation. The accusation in her question was barely disguised. She thought he was with another woman.
And in a way, he was.
Memories of Britt had dominated his thoughts since he’d called out her name when he and Stacy tried to have sex for the first time.
Things he’d long forgotten, were now racing through his brain, driving him insane.
She was everywhere, which wasn’t surprising since they’d lived together for two years in St. Felipe at his old house on Nova Lane before she’d gotten pregnant.
But living on the run with new identities on Dove Island had been the best days of his life.
Dove Island was an enclave of private islands, which were almost exclusively owned by the wealthiest Palmchatters.
With the new identities created by Bobby, he’d had Britt all to himself as they created a life that was their own, free from the long, dangerous shadow of her father and the demands from the PIIB.
He’d watched Britt’s belly grow with a little life inside her. Held her hand as she gave birth to their daughter. Spent every waking moment when he wasn’t at work with the woman.
Was it any surprise that he’d felt a pull to go back there?
Dove Island would always be bittersweet for him.
The place where he felt the closest to Britt and the place where he lost her.
A sarcastic laugh erupted from Stacy. “You went to Dove Island, didn’t you?”
Lachlan opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated.
“Don’t bother denying it. It’s written all over your face,” Stacy said, grabbing her purse from the couch.
“I don’t want things to be weird between us,” Lachlan said, trying to fix the mess he’d made of their relationship. Stacy had become a good friend to him over the years. Too good to have messed things up by getting intimate when his heart wasn’t really in it.
“It can’t be helped,” she said, then exhaled. “You have an amazing daughter. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t get sucked into her life and yours, feeling like things are progressing toward something that they’re not. Please tell the camp to remove me as your backup contact.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that right away.” Lachlan took a step toward her. “Do I also need to find a new flight attendant?” She was a damn good attendant and would be difficult to replace, considering the discretion he needed for flying around the King Family as well as the work he did for Stingray.
But he was done being selfish.
He needed to do right by Stacy.
Stacy looked down, twisting the chain of her purse between her fingers.
After several long moments, she looked back at him. “No. I’ll continue to work for you. Let’s just stop crossing lines, okay?”
“Right. No crossing lines ever again,” Lachlan said, taking her decision as the first step toward reconciliation between them. He held the door open for her.
“And if Paloma asks for me, just let me know. I’m not going to disappear from her life.”
“I appreciate that.”
Stacy nodded, then walked along the sidewalk to her car.
He closed the door, then pressed his forehead against the warm wooden surface.
He had to get himself fucking together. Now.
“Daddy …” his little girl’s groggy voice floated from behind him.
“Hey.” Lachlan turned and crossed the living room. He lifted her into his arms. “I heard you had quite the scare this morning. How are ye, hen, really?”
“I’m okay.” Paloma wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her head against his chest. Her small fingers reached for the Celtic trinity knot hanging from his neck, tracing the intricate silver patterns as she often did when seeking comfort.
The same comfort it gave to him. He remembered standing next to his father in the small Edinburgh shop, learning how the three interwoven loops represented past, present, and future, binding the Ritchie clan for generations.
His father had told him the knot would protect him from harm and remind him of where he came from.
As Paloma's fingertips followed the eternal knot's path, Lachlan made the silent promise he'd held since her birth—when his little hen reached twelve, he'd take her to the same shop, continue the tradition that even an ocean couldn't sever.
Perhaps then, he'd finally tell her how the trinity had taken on new meaning for him: father, mother, child—a family circle that could never truly be broken, even when one point seemed lost.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you when you were scared,” Lachlan said, tears clogging his throat. “I promise ye, it won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. I wasn’t scared,” Paloma announced. “Mommy’s angel was there. She protected me.”
“Mommy’s … angel?” He choked on the words.
“She was at the park. She looked like the picture I have of Mommy.”
He had thousands of pictures of Britt, but he’d only printed one for Paloma to sit on her dresser in her bedroom. The one of Britt holding her at two years old, only days before the car bomb.
It was his favorite picture of them.
“You saw someone who looked like Mommy?” His heart thundered in his chest.
Paloma shook her head. “It was Mommy.” Her voice faltered a bit. “But she’s in heaven. So, it had to be her angel, right?”
She leaned back to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
Because his little girl believed he had the answers to all life’s questions.
But this one he wasn’t so sure.
“I think so,” Lachlan hedged. He had no reason to doubt his daughter after he’d gotten caught in seeing visions of Britt himself a few days ago.
He’d always wanted Paloma to know everything about her mom.
To make sure that Britt was real to her, but maybe he’d gone too far …
for both of them. Maybe moving on from Britt was what they both needed.
“Angels do come from heaven to help us when we’re in trouble,” Lachlan said, stopping short of confirming that the angel was Britt.
If his daughter’s visions were like his own, then there had likely been an actual person in the park trying to help her get away from the knife-wielding man.
Possibly one of the camp leaders or volunteers.
The traumatic experience caused his little girl to replace the person’s face with someone who helped her feel calm in the chaos—her mother.
A much better excuse than he had when he’d fantasized Stacy was Britt while her mouth was on his cock. A fact that still made him feel like the worst person in the world.
Paloma smiled, then leaned back against his chest. “That’s what I thought.
” She seemed pleased with his response. “She told me the bad man was coming. She told me to hide in the slide to be safe, and she was right. Then, when people stopped screaming, I heard my teacher calling my name, and she was with a police officer. I knew it was safe to come out.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Lachlan said. “And I’m happy that you’re okay.”
“Me too, Daddy,” Paloma said, twisting in his arms to stare at the television. “Can we watch a movie?”
Lachlan kissed her temple. “You want popcorn and cotton candy, too?”
“We can’t watch a movie without snacks, Daddy!” Paloma said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“And which movie do you want to watch?” He asked, walking to the television stand and grabbing the remote.
Paloma stared at the ceiling as if contemplating her options, but he figured she already knew what she wanted to watch.
After a few more seconds, she smiled brightly and said, “Raya!”
“The warrior princess,” Lachlan said, not surprised. “Raya it is.”