32. Andrie
Andrie
The wine glass fell from my fingers as I stood there, dumb-struck. I couldn’t have heard that right, could I?
But the guilty expression on Xander, Vik, and Matteo’s faces told me otherwise. Pain ripped through me like a knife wound, hot and breath-stealing, and my hand immediately went to my chest as I bent over. The agonizing heat turning ice cold in an instant.
I heard Gretchen say something, but I only shook my head, unable to focus on anything. That was, until I saw a pair of boots in my peripheral vision. Staggering back, I slammed into the house, trying to get away, to reject the last minute of my life. Xander couldn’t have … could he?
He took another step, and I whirled, reaching blindly for the patio door and yanking it open.
Xander cursed behind me as I ran headlong into a dining room chair, my legs tangling with it.
I almost went down to the floor face-first when I felt hands gripping my waist. They set me on my feet and let me go before I could wrench away from his hands.
“Andrie,” Xander said, his voice almost as rough as I felt, but I only shook my head, still moving, but not for long.
I ended up against the kitchen counter, one hand on the cool white and gray marble I’d just complimented Gretchen on. She and Matteo had just finished renovating the kitchen the weekend before—with a huge amount of help from Wyck and his construction crew.
Strong arms pinned me against the counter, and I went wild, turning to kick and hit blindly.
My heartache turned to rage in an instant, and I welcomed the heat that flared through me, replacing that painful cold.
Xander let me fight, until one of my punches connected so solidly, I heard him grunt.
Apparently done letting me use him as a punching bag, he lifted me a few inches off the floor and pinned me against the gray cabinets with his body.
“Alex!” His face was inches from mine, and I prepared to snap my head forward, intending on head-butting him, when I registered the name he’d called me. How had he known my real name?
“Just listen to me, all right? What you heard was out of context, and I know it sounded bad. But do you really think the others, namely Viktor, would allow me to live, let alone breathe in your presence, if there wasn’t more to the story?”
His Russian accent was getting heavier and heavier as he spoke, and his pronunciation of Vik’s full name—had me pausing, thinking about his words.
My chin tilted up. “Let me go,” I said, clearly enunciating each word.
“Do you promise not to try kicking me again?” he asked.
“No.” I might as well stay truthful.
A corner of his mouth twitched. “Fair enough, solnyshkuh.” I flinched at the nickname. Only one person had called me that, and, from what I’d just heard, the man in front of me was responsible for his death.
“Did you really think Demi would have been able to escape under his own name?” he whispered, his somber face an inch from mine.
“That Irina and Senior would just allow their son to disappear? And when Irina was killed, or even died under mysterious circumstances, Anatoly would immediately suspect him, even if he’d supposedly been dead for years.
Anatoly has never been blind to his grandson’s hatred of Irina, even if she pretends otherwise, and he would bring the weight of his entire organization down on anyone he even suspected might have helped him. ”
I froze, feeling the blood drain from my face.
“So, you had to pretend to kill …” I trailed off, trying to understand. Was the price of Xander’s passage here faking Demi’s death? And, if so, where was Demi? After all this time, had he decided he wanted a life—a love—other than with me? The second the thought crossed my mind, I rejected it.
“I didn’t kill Demi, Alex. But I did arrange for his death, more than once. His exit from his old life was … complex.” The anticipation, or maybe expectation, on his face confused me. It was as if I wasn’t keeping up with what he was saying.
“So, if you didn’t kill Demi, where is he?” I finally blurted out when it was clear Xander wouldn’t elaborate further.
His smile was a mixture of relief, delight, and apprehension. “Where else do you think he’d want to be, except in your arms?”
Blinking, I tried to understand what Xander was saying, shaking my head slowly. No, there was no way Demi … I pushed against Xander, and he let me go. He took two steps back, his arms hanging to his sides, letting me look my fill.
Sure, Xander was similar in height to Demi, but that was where the similarities ended.
Xander was much more muscular, easily seventy-five pounds heavier.
He was bald whereas Demi had thick, pale blond hair that was almost white; a darker blond beard covered a jaw much less square than Demi’s had been.
His eyes, too, had been so light they were almost without color, and Xander’s were definitely blue.
His cheekbones were higher and more pronounced, and his nose was different. Hell, even his tattoos didn’t match.
Nothing in the man’s face was familiar. Nothing except the look of what I would swear was love in his eyes. He must have read my rejection of his words because he raised a hand in an unspoken command to wait before walking to the door, where I was sure everyone was eavesdropping.
“Shade, I need a black light.” Xander’s words might confuse everyone else, but I gasped, hope starting to rise even as I tried to reject it.
He came back with a small light, pulling the shades in the dining room and kitchen as he made his way back to me.
“We might not have exchanged our vows in a church in front of a priest,” he said, reaching for my left hand.
“But I considered them just as sacred, as have you.” Clicking on the light, the tattoo I didn’t think anyone alive knew I had fluoresced a bright blue on the side of my ring finger.
I didn’t need to look closely to know what it showed.
“An infinity symbol,” Xander said huskily as he gently rubbed the marking. “A sign of endless possibilities. Because, even then, we knew that despite how bleak a future together looked, there was always a possibility we would get the world we wanted to live in.”
I knew what else was detailed on the tattoo, the starburst of a sun on one side, and a crescent moon on the other. Because Demi had always lived in the darkness, and I was his sunshine.
When the light flashed on his own tattoo—the only one remaining of his old ones—it mirrored mine. But whereas mine was wispy and feminine, his was solid and bold.
“Demi,” I breathed, scarcely hearing a phone ringing outside. A torrent of emotions burst forth—elation and joy, guilt and confusion. “I—I don’t understand. How did I not know?”
“Didn’t you?” he asked softly, pulling me into his arms. “You didn’t so much as look at a man until I came through that door. You might not have realized it was me on a conscious level, but deep down, your subconscious knew. You wouldn’t have slept with me that first night otherwise.”
His smug, somewhat patronizing smile, stopped me short from melting into him.
“So, you planned on running into me that night?” The lightbulb dawned …
Lessia’s insistence on me joining them, our talk, and Vik’s anxious behavior, his insistence on meeting his “brother.” They’d orchestrated it. They’d known Xander’s identity.
Furious at being played, I pushed with all my might, making Xander release me to catch his balance.
“You, what, decided since you were now in the free and clear after all this time, you might as well celebrate by picking up the drunk woman who was still mourning the loss of the person she loved and have sex with her? After all, considering she was grieving over your ‘death,’ it didn’t really count, did it? ”
His eyes narrowed, even as he took another step back. “Considering how much time we’d both lost, I didn’t want to waste another moment in starting the rest of our lives together.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Understanding the depth of the betrayal, I balled my hands into fists, welcoming the pain of my fingernails digging into my palms.
“Of course,” he said, placatingly, his voice calm and controlled as if I were being unreasonable. “When the timing was right.”
“Fuck you,” I shot back. “You knew I was grieving for Demi—for you. You knew I wrestled with the idea of letting go of the past so I could have a relationship with you, and for what? Some male satisfaction that you could make me fall in love with you twice?”
Not about to stand around and listen to what he had to say, I stormed from the house, coming to a stop when I came face to face with Vik, Matteo, and the rest of the men behind them—all of whom had to have known Xander’s real identity.
“Andrie—” Matteo started, but I cut him off, not able to look at him or Vik.
“I’m going home.” Looking around wildly, I spotted Wisp in the shadows. “You,” I snapped my fingers and pointed to him. “You’re taking me.” I might have been beyond upset at everyone there, but I wasn’t stupid enough to storm off in a huff.
“Yes, ma’am.” Whisp trailed behind me as I headed to the truck Xander and I had been borrowing from Vik since I’d lost my sedan.
Though I knew it likely killed him not to drive, he jumped into the passenger seat without hesitation, buckling his seatbelt when I refused to back up, eyebrow raised pointedly until he did so.
“Did you know?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes.” Whisp wasn’t a man to mince words or use any more than absolutely necessary.
The tears I’d been holding back started to fall.
I’d thought these men were my friends. Hell, Vik was like a brother to me.
For the first time since I’d met Demi, I felt totally and utterly alone.
Even after Irina’s man had placed me in that truck, after the rapes and moves across the United States, I’d never given up the feeling that Demi would somehow find me and rescue me from that hell.
When Vik and the others had rescued us, my thoughts had been confirmed.
Yes, Demi hadn’t been able to come for me himself, but I understood why, and I knew he’d done everything he could—even sending me the only person in the world he trusted—to ensure my safety.
“When Hardy is found …” I threatened.
Whisp shifted in his seat. “What?” He hesitated but ultimately decided now wasn’t a good time to hold back information.
“While you and Xander were … talking … Matteo got a call. They found Hardy at some old cabin his cousin’s grandfather owned. He’s dead.”
“Dead?”
Whisp shrugged. “Apparently, he took the easy way out. The locals are still processing the scene, but we’ll get a full report soon.”
I pulled into my driveway. “Good. Then you don’t need to stay.” I heard the rumble of a motorcycle in the distance. “Get out.”
He shook his head, but I wasn’t in the mood for another man to dictate my life.
“Hardy is dead, so there’s no reason for you to stick around.
I don’t want a single one of you hanging around my property, let alone taking a step inside my door.
I’m not leaving my house for the rest of the day, and as far as I’m concerned, I just want to be left the hell alone. ”
Not waiting for a response, I slammed the door on the truck and disappeared inside my house, waiting pointedly at the window until Whisp reluctantly said something to Savage, who’d followed us on his motorcycle, before getting into an SUV I recognized as Shade’s.
The three men left, reluctantly turning back the way they’d come.
Wiping my eyes, I took a steadying breath before reaching over to put the car keys into the bowl by the door I always kept them in, and organizing my shoes neatly.
No matter how much I wanted to throw everything in a heap, I refused to let my emotions get the better of me.
If it killed me, I would put everything away properly before I raided my ice cream stash and crawled into bed to cry.
I was just turning around to head to the kitchen when I heard the sound of footsteps.
“Well, well. I have to admit, you weren’t the woman I thought I’d be torturing tonight.
” I froze in fear as a woman stepped out from my spare room.
She tilted her head, still speaking in Russian.
“More correctly, I guess, it is the same woman, just different name. Tell me, how is it you escaped your captors and ended up here of all places?” She sneered, as if Texas were one of the last places on Earth anyone would want to live.
I couldn’t answer her. My body shook too badly to be able to speak.
She smirked, watching my terror. “Never mind. We can talk plenty later.” Holding up a gun, she motioned for me to grab the keys I’d just put away.
I grabbed them and reached for the door, wondering if the men had doubled back after making a show of leaving or if I was on my own.
Before I could even unlock the door, Irina was behind me, wrenching my arm up in a painful hold. “Don’t even think about screaming or causing a scene, or I swear I will shoot every man, woman, and child I come across until I run out of bullets. Do you understand?”
I nodded, then screamed out in pain when she added more pressure. I knew if she applied even another ounce of weight, my arm would dislocate. “I understand,” I managed to get out.
“Good.” The grip only loosened slightly as she reached around with the hand still holding the gun to pull my phone from my purse, dropping it on the floor before unlocking the door. “You’re driving.”