Chapter Eight Reed
Chapter Eight
Reed
From the second-floor window, I watched Hollis outside as she stiffened when her sister hugged her. She remained like a statue, arms slightly raised and locked at the elbows. She didn’t hug her back, but she didn’t shove Lyra away, either.
Her parents approached next, the duke and duchess. Her mother rested her hand on Hollis’s forearm and gave her a small squeeze. Her father offered a nod and a quick hug. Neither lingered. It was depressing, and that was coming from someone with shitty parents.
Never, in all the months that I’d known that woman—whether she was busting my chops or not—had she looked at me like she had today.
Staring at me not as a stranger, but someone who gave a damn about me.
She even had me feeling off, almost drunk.
Oddly warm in my chest and throat, a little lightheaded, wanting to word-vomit shit I knew I shouldn’t . . . So yeah, out of it, for damn sure.
I let go of the drapes and turned, finding Alex dragging a leather armchair over to the corner of the room. He began screwing around with the camera. “Don’t like being watched?”
“Who does?” he grunted in response, then hopped down from the chair. “We can talk freely now.”
Trevor checked his watch. “I’ll start a timer. I’m sure you only bought us a minute before her brothers come barging in.”
“Then talk fast.” Alex winked.
Ryder set his laptop on the coffee table and stood, waiting for someone to speak up with theories or news during the precious seconds Alex had given us.
“I got nothing,” I surrendered, and Alex nodded his Same right back at me.
We turned to Trevor next. He rested a hand under his chin, cracking his neck. Probably slept as bad as I had. We’d been exiled to a small place at the back of the property, forced to sleep in bunk beds where the stablehands used to sleep thirty-plus years ago.
I’d slept in much worse, but it was more a slap in the face that we were outsiders in their family’s trust circle. I didn’t totally blame them, since the only time we’d worked together, Hollis had been an intermediary. But still.
“This is probably not too helpful, but I remembered my cousin had her memories wiped a few years back.” Was Trevor kidding?
That was the definition of something akin to a possible lead.
“But she remembered who she was, just not what happened to her during the time she’d been taken.
No way the same person’s responsible.” He’d shot down what little optimism I had.
“I can still talk to them. See if Tessa ever got those memories back. Or find out if they know what drugs were used on her.”
“Make the call outside where you don’t have ears and eyes on you.”
“Roger that.” Trevor left the office, and Ryder turned our way as if waiting for us to pull another possible lead out of thin air.
I held open my palms in apology at the nothingness still there. “I’m sure she’ll be back to herself soon and can tell us what happened.”
“Well”—Ryder glanced at the camera, which was still off—“what about any other cases involving memory loss and operators?”
Alex stepped forward. “Only ones I can think of involve traumas to the head.”
“I’ll call Secretary Chandler,” Ryder offered. “See if we can get help putting together a list of possibles. Anything even close to what happened to Hollis could be helpful to take a look at.”
Don’t leave me alone with Alex.
Too late. Ryder took off to make the call before I could object.
I checked the camera, and it was my bad luck that it was still inactive, which meant Alex would be safe to harass and annoy me like I knew he was about to do.
“Don’t,” I begged, holding up my hand, as if that’d do any good.
“You’ve conveniently done your best to avoid me since we realized she lost her memories.” He parked his hands on his hips, shifting into dad mode, which was the last thing I wanted or needed. “Talk to me, man.”
“Hollis is alive, and your pregnant wife can now sleep because of it. Her memories will come back.”
“Not the kind of conversation I’m talking about.” He glanced at the camera, and whatever magic shit he’d done to it was still holding up.
“Well, her case is the only thing I’m up for discussing.”
The man doubled down on not dropping this and closed the space between us to hiss in a low voice, “Your dad doesn’t remember who you are, and now we’re dealing with a mission about this, and Hollis—”
“Hollis isn’t my dad,” I snapped back. “Her situation is temporary.” I motioned to the hall as if she were there. “His memories, on the other hand, aren’t coming back.” I’d already said too much and needed to shut up.
I turned away from him and went back to the window to look outside. Hollis was no longer there. Just her parents’ Brabus G-Wagon, an enhanced version of the Mercedes-Benz G-Class.
“I’m not going to drop this, not when I know your head has to be off right now for more than one reason.”
“Oh yeah?” I sputtered, half losing it as I pivoted back around. “What’s the other reason?”
“The woman you’ve spent half the year pretending to hate was in danger and now going through this, and you weren’t—and still aren’t—scared shitless?
” He scoffed. “You can lie to yourself and act like you’re fine, but I see right through you.
You’ve been keeping yourself together with prayers and maybe a little duct tape. ”
“I was fine before. I’m still fine.” I bit down on my back teeth and hissed, “And she’ll be fine.”
Because I believe in her.
“That’s a whole lotta lies for someone who hates liars.” His jaw muscles tensed as he hit me with his tough-love bullshit.
“She will be all right.” That was the only acceptable outcome.
She was safe, and soon she’d remember everything, and we’d find the assholes who did this to her.
I squeezed my eyes closed, unable to look at one of my closest friends and do exactly what he said I hated: lie.
“As for me? I’m good already. Perfectly fi—”
“Dammit, Reed.” His voice was rough with emotion, grating across my skin like sandpaper as he tried to get under my skin. “You and I aren’t at war here, I’m only trying to help. But I also need to know if you can work this mission, given what’s happening back home and—”
“Back home?” A dark laugh loosened free from an equally dark place inside me as I opened my eyes.
“You mean because my father doesn’t remember the hell he put me through my whole life?
And I can’t stop hating the man even though he has no clue what a bastard he is?
” I brought my hand to my chest, worried my heart was about to fly right out of it.
“Does it suck?” I nodded, no sense lying now.
“Yeah, it does. But that’s not going to stop me from doing my job. Operating is all I have.”
He held up his hands like a possible white flag, like he’d fall back, but I wasn’t done. The beast was already out of its cage and running straight for the target he’d opened himself up to be.
“And as for why else I’m upset? I’m just plain angry at the evil in this world.
Why couldn’t that evil have come after me instead of her?
Done me a solid by stealing my memories?
She doesn’t deserve what happened to her.
” I slowly looked up at him. “But my life is one giant clusterfuck of failures I wish I could forget—and to make it worse? I’d been hoping to lose my own memories the day she went missing. ”
And I hated myself for it. Blamed myself. Was terrified this was my fault and I’d willed this sick reality into existence.
Alex muttered a string of curses, probably shocked I’d actually opened up and also unsure what to say back.
“Can we be done talking about me now? I promise that duct tape is holding me together,” I rasped, still a little pissed off at his accusations about my feelings for her (that were possibly correct). “Just talk to—” I immediately dropped my words the second I realized we had company.
So much for that duct tape, because as soon as Hollis met my eyes, I could feel myself unraveling like I had last night when reality caught up with me on the plane.
Now there I was, on the verge of losing my shit again, but she was awake and in front of me. The battle happening inside me had nothing on what she was going through, so I’d man the hell up for her.
“Am I interrupting?” she whispered, and that sweet innocence dragged my ass forward two steps, somehow even poking a hole in some of my pent-up frustration.
“No, we’re done here.” I glanced back at Alex, my shoulders falling at the fact I’d been an asshole to him when all he’d done was give a damn. “He needs to call Audrey anyway—don’t you?”
I wasn’t so sure whether being one-on-one with her was the best idea with how she’d been looking at me earlier, but it was too late now, because Alex nodded and left us alone.
“Redecorating?” She pointed to the armchair beneath the camera while taking a seat on one of the couches.
I smiled. God help me, I did, and I even meant to do it.
“Our temporary solution for privacy from your older brother, who doesn’t have the best manners toward guests.
” I sat across from her, deciding it’d be best to keep some distance between us.
I leaned back, holding the arm of the couch, hoping my pulse might drop out of tachycardia range soon so I could survive our talk.
She wrung her hands together on her lap, her nerves as unexpected as my opening up to Alex. “Gideon’s a bit much, isn’t he?” She faked a smile—or maybe it was partially genuine. I wasn’t sure of anything at this point.
“That’s putting it mildly.” I angled my head, staring at her long lashes as she slowly lifted her eyes to my face. “Your meet-and-greet not go well? Rather short.”
“It was stiff and awkward, like they didn’t know how to handle me being like this. I gave them an out by saying I was tired. My sister seems nice, though. She’s throwing snacks together.”
“Good. You should eat.”
She patted her thighs twice. “So.”