Chapter 22
Phoenix
I know Niamh is dreading this meeting, I am too, but for her sake, this warning has to be given in person. I feel for her parents, I really do, but I also understand the bitterness Niamh feels toward them. I’m the same, and my parents did even less to deserve it. They never wanted their little girl to be taken and I can almost guarantee they thought about her every day, every night, and frequently prayed for her safe return. I can imagine that every time they smiled, or went along their day like normal, they felt a stab of guilt right through their hearts. Because, let’s face it, Niamh should not have been walking home during that storm. One of them should have got their butt in the car and picked her up. But they didn’t and they’ll have to live with that for the rest of their lives.
Speaking of storms, the weather outside shows just how far away from home we are. It’s a grey day with buckets of rain falling from the sky. The place is lush with greenery and there’s not a hint of sand anywhere. Not only that, but my old truck sounds different; it always does when it’s away from home.
“Nearly there, Niamh, how you holding up?” I ask with my hand resting gently on top of her knee, trying to calm it from jumping up and down with anxiety.
“I wanna go home,” she says with a nervous smile, “but I’ll be fine.”
“Home,” I whisper to myself, still loving the fact that she thinks of the bar as home.
“As long as you’re here, I am home,” she says decidedly before turning to watch the rain again.
“Niamh, as soon as we’re done with your parents, we’re gonna head on over to the hotel I booked and have a proper date,” I declare, to which she looks at me with a shocked expression.
“I never got to go on a date,” she says quietly, and it breaks my heart to hear her say it.
“I know,” I tell her. “Even I went on dates when I was a dumb teenager. I was pretty awful on them, but I like to think that if you love the girl you’re taking out, you might get things right.”
“I don’t care what we do,” she says with a genuinely happy smile on her face, “this is the best thing I’ve heard in ages.”
“If you’re lucky, I might even ask you to dance,” I laugh.
“Dance?!” she gasps in horror. “I don’t know how to.”
“Wanna hear a secret?” I ask theatrically, crooking my finger to get her to lean in closer. “Neither do I, but when you’re as big as I am, no one dares to tell you so.”
To my relief, she laughs, and what a beautiful and rare sound it is. I hope to make her laugh more; she deserves to after everything. She continues laughing up until the point I pull the truck into a restaurant parking lot, at which point she almost seems to stop breathing. She’s statue still as she stares outside the windscreen at the pouring rain, taking in the building before us.
“Do you know, they never changed the car,” she whispers, so I look to where she’s staring and see a family-sized Toyota sitting in the parking space opposite. “It was sitting there, motionless, when Robert refused to unlock the doors and let me jump out. I used to imagine I had been inside that car instead of being trapped inside the Mercedes that took us. How different everything would have been.”
“Perhaps they didn’t want to change it, in the hopes that you would come back,” I suggest. “Perhaps they thought by keeping it, they would still have need of a family car; perhaps they thought things should stay the same for when you came back so it would still feel like home to you.”
“It didn’t work,” she says sadly, now looking down to her feet. “Nothing felt the same when I got back.”
“Niamh—" I begin but she cuts me off by opening the door. I choose to let her lead for fear of her backing out if I don’t.
“Let’s get this over with,” she mutters before getting out into the rain.
We might have only spent less than twenty seconds out in the rain, but it was enough to have us looking soaked through once we step inside the restaurant. It’s little wonder that nearly everyone’s heads turn to face us, especially when we’re dressed in jeans and leathers and they’re all in their Sunday best. We must have brought the average age down to about sixty and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with tattoos.
Niamh moves in closer to me, as if seeking shelter from the dozens of eyes now on us. This is her idea of pure torture, but at least she knows I’m right here with her. After the initial shock of seeing a sea of faces looking us up and down with judgment, we spot her parents sitting in the window seat, appearing sheepish and unsure as to whether they want to be here or not. I can see how they haven’t managed to instill any sort of confidence in their daughter, they seem to be just as shy and uncomfortable in a public place.
“Come on, baby,” I try to reassure her, “you’re ok, I’m here with you.”
She silently nods as I take hold of her hand and lead her across to their table. Her hand grips mine back with white knuckle force and I suddenly want to take her inside of my arms and carry her right back out again. But I can’t; she needs to do this for her sake as well as theirs.
“Just remember the date we’re gonna have after this,” I tell her, and to my relief, she gives me a small smile and stands a little taller.
“Jessie, how are you?” her mother says with a smile that looks forced. She gets up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek and a clutch of her free hand.
“It’s Niamh now…or again,” she replies. Her parents look positively thrilled by this information, as if it’s an olive branch. I almost feel bad for them.
“You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that, Niamh,” her mother says before taking her seat again.
“Please, take a seat, both of you,” her father says with a smile, even for me. I guess he’s accepted the fact that to get to Niamh, he’s going to have to get through me.
Niamh looks at me before accepting the invitation, and I follow suit. My butt feels much too big for the chair, and I find myself shuffling around to try and get a hint of comfort from it. In the end, I stretch out my limbs and lean against the back. In contrast, Niamh remains huddled up, keeping her eyes fixed on the empty plate in front of her. The table remains silent, her parents still wearing fake smiles, and me ping-ponging my focus between them and their daughter. It’s about as comfortable as a funeral in here.
“Niamh, we were so excited to hear you wanted to see us,” her mother finally says, reaching her hand forward over the table to invite contact with Niamh. “After our last meeting, we gave up hope.”
Niamh does not move, just keeps her eyes trained on the white linen of the tablecloth. Her parents look to me with furrowed brows, as though I have the answers they so desperately crave from their daughter.
“Niamh, baby,” I whisper as I run my hand over her wet hair in an attempt to soothe her anxiety, “you ready to tell them?”
“Tell us what?” her father instantly snaps. I give him a look, one that tells him to calm the fuck down before he spooks her.
“I’m still angry with them,” she says, which wasn’t what I was expecting her to say at all. They turn to stare at her with what looks like hope in their eyes. “But I guess I know part of this anger isn’t their fault.”
Tears begin to stream from her eyes, but her face remains passive, and she makes no attempt to brush them away.
“You should have come to get me,” she says with a strength I know she has worked hard to get hold of. Her mother looks down at her hands and begins to release her own tears of shame.
“I know, Niamh, and I hate myself for it,” she says sadly.
“But I’m beginning to accept that it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t find me,” Niamh says, looking right at them for the first time. A few long moments pass between them, with no one speaking or making any kind of movement.
“Afternoon, everybody, can I get you guys anything?” the waiter says as he draws up with his paper and pen at the ready.
“Nope!” I grunt, to which he widens his eyes and marches swiftly away.
“We never ever gave up hope of finding you, Niamh,” her father says, reaching his hand out for hers. “Life stopped that day.”
Another stretch of silence descends so I signal for the waiter to come back, if only to break the atmosphere. He’s a lot more apprehensive this time round, to the point whereby I have to hide my smirk. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s dealing with, not that I feel much more able to handle all this emotion. However, I’m glad Niamh is beginning to release some of the anger she’s been holding onto for all these years.
Once our orders have been taken, the waiter practically runs away and into the safety of the kitchen. Niamh looks at me for support, so I take the lead with the next conversation we need to have.
“So, our coming here today wasn’t just for Niamh to make some sort of peace with you,” I begin, their eyes shooting my way for further explanation. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, but we recently discovered that Robert is still alive.”
Niamh slumps down in her seat at the same time as her parents drop open their mouths in shock. Her mother’s glass slips from her hand, and she flusters to catch it. As it hits the table, her father begins mopping up the ice cubes and water, probably to focus on something other than the epic bomb I’ve just dropped.
“We think he knows where she is, so you guys are probably safe, but you should be on guard anyway,” I warn them.
“Wait, have you told the police? Surely, they should know!” Niamh’s father gasps, keeping his voice hushed after several heads just turned to look our way. They’re still ashamed of what happened, even with Niamh’s forgiveness.
“No!” I snap, sounding resolute. “As far as they know, Robert is dead, and that’s how it needs to stay.”
“What on earth for?” her mother asks, looking horrified.
“Because it means Warren can…he can…” Niamh trails off, too nervous to say the words out loud.
“It means I can kill him without any awkward questions,” I tell them bluntly, to which their mouths drop open in shock again. “Not only did he destroy Niamh’s childhood, and kept her locked up in fear for years, but he also did the exact same to my brother.”
“He also killed Warren’s mother,” Niamh whispers, taking hold of my hand under the table in support.
“Robert needs to die,” I declare, “otherwise, Niamh will never feel safe again.”
“Good,” her father says out of the blue. His wife looks at him, no doubt as shocked as we are over his one-word response. “When you kill him, do it for Niamh, your family, and for us.”
“Paul!” her mother gasps.
“I mean it, Maggie,” he says resolutely, “not only does he deserve it, but so does our little girl. She deserves the life he stole from her; the life he’s still stealing from her if we let him live.”
“Dad,” Niamh whimpers as she reaches out for his hand. He takes her offering and lets the tears fall over his cheeks without any shame or fear of it; he’s just earned my utmost respect.
“You’ll protect her though, won’t you?” her mother practically begs. “You’ll do what we couldn’t?”
“You have my word,” I promise.
“Then, you have my blessing,” she says and takes hold of Niamh’s other hand as she reaches out for her mother.
This was good; a happy moment to come out of everything.
_____
Niamh
“Ouch!” I gasp after having my toes trodden on for about the tenth time but still end up laughing. It doesn’t matter if I have bruised toes, so long as I’m with Warren, who cares?
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry,” he mutters as he continues to watch his feet going all over the place, mainly on my toes. “Though, in all fairness, I did warn you. You wanna stop?”
“No,” I tell him softly, cupping his face with my hand; how did I get so lucky to find him? He smiles at me goofily, a look I doubt anyone else has ever seen on him. My soft, once upon a time assassin; the man who is going to save me by killing another. The thought makes me shiver, though I try not to show him.
“Stop thinking about him, baby,” he whispers as he brings me in close so we’re standing cheek to cheek. “It’s just you and me.”
“I know, Warren,” I reply with as much conviction as I can.
We fall into silence again, just swaying on the spot, if only to lessen the number of broken toes I’m going to have if he continues standing on them. Thinking about it puts my own goofy smile on my face. How can he make me feel both safe and needed at the same time?
“You know what I did the other day?” he begins, resting his head on top of mine.
“Shout at somebody?” I tease, and we laugh gently against each other.
“Well, that too, but no, that’s not what I was talking about,” he says in a proud tone of voice. Before I can say anything, he spins me out and back again, catching me inside of his arms so I am looking up at his beautiful face, his soulful eyes, and his floppy black hair. I grin, waiting for him to say the mysterious thing he’s dying to tell me. From the smirk on his face, it can only be good.
“I went and bought you this,” he says, digging something out of his pocket. I frown with curiosity as he pulls it out and holds it between us. My brain is trying to make sense of what it is that I’m seeing but he doesn’t elaborate. He just maintains a nervous smile and what looks like hope in his eyes.
“Is that…?” I whisper, staring at the red velvet ring box with wide eyes and a lump of emotion lodged inside of my throat. I never thought I’d find someone who would want me as much as I want them. I thought I was much too tainted; much too damaged.
“It is,” he confirms, popping open the box to reveal a simple white gold band with the most beautiful ruby sitting in the middle. “I wanted something different, something that reminded me of you. I had this idea that a ruby might have been the color of your dragon, Stanley. Or at least, his fire.”
“Does anyone else know how deep you run, Warren?” I whisper as I stare at him in awe. “But I thought fire was a bad memory for you?”
“It is,” he begins thoughtfully, “but I guess it also means new beginnings. The chance to take something awful and turn it into something new.”
“Huh,” I murmur contemplatively to myself, “I guess you’re right.”
“So, er, is this the new beginning I was hoping for?” he asks, and I laugh over the fact I’ve been keeping him hanging.
“Yes,” I reply before reaching up on my tiptoes to kiss his beautiful lips, “it is.”
“Holy shit,” he whispers, sounding shocked, but pleasantly so. “You have no idea how happy you make me, Niamh, happier than I’ve felt since I was seven years old. I love you so much.”
“I love you too; you gave me back a family, you gave me you.”
“We can wait until all of this Robert shit is over if you want to?”
“No,” I reply with a smile, covering his mouth with my fingertips, “I don’t want to let him rule my life anymore; I want to be your wife as soon as possible.”
“Thank fuck,” he replies, grinning widely. “Can I show you how much I’m going to love my wife?”
I simply smile and nod. Without any further words, he kisses me on the dancefloor, takes hold of my hand, and begins leading me back toward our hotel room.