Текст книги "Transcending Darkness"

Автор книги: Airicka Phoenix

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

Juliette held her breath. She prayed to God this was where they would barge in and hear a deafening scream from Molly. Then outraged cussing for barging into her house.

There was nothing.

Silence descended around them with a force that was definitely impossible. Everything from the wind snapping bare branches to the hum of traffic several streets over stopped. There was nothing but the murmur of her own prayers repeating inside her head.

“Sir?” Frank glanced at Killian. “The backdoor is open. It looks like forced entry. Would you like us to proceed?”

Killian didn’t move. He didn’t utter a word. Had his coat flaps not been trembling under the wind’s vicious attack, she would have thought he’d frozen to the spot. But he must have given Frank some kind of signal, because Frank brought his wrist to his mouth and gave the command.

The front door was kicked in and the team charged.

Chapter 21

Sixteen years ago…

“I told you to get the hell outta my house!” Desperation cracked his voice, making him sound as young and ridiculous as he felt trying to be something he had no right being. “Your services are no longer required.”

The steady chopping continued without pause. Whole bushels of parsley disappeared under the knife and came out perfectly minced. It was scooped up by capable hands and dumped into the pot.

“Did you hear me?”

Molly sighed. “Darling child, I’m old. Not deaf. Of course I heard ya. I just chose to ignore it.”

Irritation prickled the back of his sweaty neck. The kitchen was a sauna, sweltering and nearly unbearable thanks to the four pots boiling steadily on the stove and the red hot oven baking bread. She’d been at it since dawn, cooking and baking as though preparing some lavish feast for a king. All the gleaming pots and platters lined neatly along every available stretch of space perfumed the air with their delicious aroma, and all Killian wanted to do was upend the lot of it across the floor. He wanted to stomp everything into the ground. But he refrained, not because he was better, but because, despite his rage and need to tear that entire day to pieces, Molly would be upset and he couldn’t destroy all her hard work.

“I’m your employer,” he shot back. “And I am ordering you—”

Molly scoffed. “Orderin’ me? Don’t forget, it was only yesterday I was cleanin’ your nappies. I don’t take orders from the likes of you.”

A mortifying truth.

“I pay your salary—”

“You haven’t paid me a shilling in your sixteen years, boy. Now quite wastin’ my time. I’ve got guests arrivin’ within the hour.”

Heat swelled beneath his cheeks. “My parents hired…”

Molly looked up for the first time and only when his voice had cracked. Her stern features softened.

“Go get your clothes on like a good little lamb, eh? You’ll want to look your best.”

The hands he’d set on the counter between them balled. The whitened knuckles blurred behind the tears he’d been fighting for the better part of the day. All he kept thinking was how he wasn’t ready. He was supposed to have years before becoming the master of the McClary Organization. He didn’t know how to be an adult and that was what all those people were looking for.

“They only want to come and gawk,” he muttered. “They don’t care. None of them. He hasn’t been buried a day and the vultures have already started picking at whatever part of him they can get.”

“That’s the way of things.” Molly went to the pot and quickly stirred whatever was bubbling over the rim. “Only people who will mourn ya are the ones who have stood in the fire by your side. Your da was a good man. Plenty will miss him for that alone.” She wiped her hands on her apron and faced him once more. “Where’s the girl?”

He hadn’t seen Maraveet since the afternoon he’d come home covered in his father’s blood. She’d taken one look at him and ran from the room. He hadn’t seen her since and that was nearly a week ago.

“Still refuses to leave her room.”

Molly sighed. “Well, let her be. You go on and get out of those clothes. I want you here in ten minutes looking like your da would want.”

His feet began to take him away. He made it all the way to the doorway before remembering why he’d been there in the first place.

“You’re still fired,” he told her.

She speared a loose fist against her hip. “And you’re still not dressed. Be gone with ya before I get the spoon.”

Damn woman refused to listen to reason, but he would make her. He would get her out of that house one way or another. He couldn’t risk losing her too.

Present day…

He never could get her to leave. Even when he’d threatened her with Frank, she’d rolled her eyes and told him to stop wasting her time, or Frank’s. Damn woman had wedged herself into his life like burrs in his hair, getting herself tangled and embedded so deep that he’d given up trying. He’d reluctantly accepted her presence, had accepted that if he limited her presence in his life to one day a week, nothing bad could possibly happen to her, that she would be safe. And she had been. For twenty two years, she had walked into his home with her cloth bag of precooked meals and he had let her. He had let her because she had been his anchor, the glimmer of light keeping the darkness at bay. She had kept the walls from closing in on him and the nightmares from consuming him and, God help him, he had been too weak to say no. Now, his reckless selfishness had taken away yet another person from his life.

“Sir?” Frank’s deep rumbling tone snapped through the cold, jolting Killian back. “The backdoor is open. It looks like forced entry. Would you like us to proceed?”

Yes. It stayed lodged in the torn muscles of his esophagus, caught in the sticky paste collecting at the back of his throat, but it didn’t need to be said. Frank knew. He always knew.

Against his side, Juliette’s shoulder brushed his lightly. The quiet whisper of fabric sounded much too loud, but the subtle reminder that he wasn’t standing in the cold alone had his body shifting closer. In his hand, hers felt so delicate. The fingers little sticks of ice clinging to his. An almost absent part of him had to resist the urge to pull her into his chest and shield her from the serrated edges of the cruel wind. But he wasn’t sure he could trust himself. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go again.

In the distance, the men pushed into the house, a well-oiled machine trained by Frank himself. The pounding of their feet echoed through the distance, somehow deafening. It was several seconds later that he realized the drumming was his own heart and it had taken residence between his ears. He muddled past it, needing to focus. His eyes burned, but he refused to blink. Vaguely, he was aware of Juliette setting her other hand over top of the one she was already holding. Her body turned into his side. Still, Killian couldn’t move.

“Killian…”

Her quiet whisper was interrupted by the figure that bolted out of the house at a near run, stumbled down the steps and vomited all over Molly’s junipers. The sheer force of his stress echoed all through the street.

Killian felt his vision waver. The edges frayed to a dull gray. He struggled not to blink, terrified that he might close his eyes and find himself on the ground.

“Sir.”

There was a hand on his shoulder. A massive hand with long, thick fingers that could cover a man’s entire face. It was gentle, but the weight of it held Killian in place and he realized he’d started towards the house.

“I must insist you leave this matter to me,” Frank finished, his voice oddly distant. “I will bring you my report tomorrow.”

Killian shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

Frank knew better than to push it. He quietly accepted Killian’s decision and waited.

Juliette was another matter.

“There’s nothing you can do here,” she whispered. “Come home. We’ll call the police and—”

“We’re not calling the police.” Killian muttered, watching as his men stumbled out of the house one by one. “Clean it up, Frank.”

Juliette stiffened. “No, you can’t touch it. The police—”

“There is nothing they can do.” He finally forced his neck to the side to peer down at her. “This was a message for me and I need to handle it.”

“Handle it? What are you talking about? This is a job for the authorities!”

Any other time, the bewilderment on her face would have been comical. It was clear that she had faith in the system. She honestly believed they would be able to handle this and he didn’t have the heart to tell her they couldn’t. He didn’t have the energy to do anything.

“You should go home,” he decided.

Juliette immediately recoiled like the very idea disgusted her. “No! I won’t leave you like this.”

But he didn’t want her there. He didn’t want her to see him like that. He couldn’t think or let himself grieve properly when he worried about scaring her or letting her see a side of him he never wanted her to see. He couldn’t be himself when she was there.

“You need to leave,” he told her with as much patience and cogency as he could muster without actually snarling at her. “You need to leave now.”

She shook her head. “No, please, don’t.” Tears crystalized along her lashes. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to … you’re not alone this time. I’m here. Please let me … no!” She tore away from the hand Frank settled lightly on her arm. “I’m not leaving, damn it! Please just talk to me! Let me in. We can get through this. Please, Killian!”

Get through this.

He wondered for a moment what that meant. What was she thinking? Did she honestly believe he could walk away? That he could let this go unanswered? Did she really think he’d be able to sleep knowing he’d failed Molly twice? Maybe she expected him to grieve like a normal person, to take flowers to Molly’s headstone once a week and pray she was in a better place. That was what people expected, he supposed. They put their faith in the authorities and trusted their problems would be solved.

It didn’t work that way in his world. They couldn’t do a damn when his mother had been kidnapped. They hadn’t done anything when his father was shot. He really didn’t believe they would do anything now and Molly deserved better.

Small hands curled into the soft material of his lapel. Wide, brown eyes peered up at him imploringly.

“You’re better than this.”

He froze at that. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the absolute conviction in her eyes. She genuinely believed he was worthy of redemption. No doubt she worried about tainting his soul further, but he still wasn’t so sure he had a soul and if he did, it was beyond saving. Truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit about it. Let the devil take it. What good was it to him anyway? The only one concerned about it was her and she needed to stop. She needed to stop trying to save him. She needed to stop being there. Her insistence to stay by his side infuriated him beyond reason. It made him want to punch a wall. How could she still want to stay after this? How could she not see that Molly had stayed? She had fought him too. She had refused his every demand she stay away. Now, there was no one left. He was alone. Again.

“Killian…”

“Leave.” The single word ripped from his very gut. It rang low, but with an unmistakable clarity. “Now.” Juliette started to open her mouth. He could see the protest and refusal and he snapped. “Leave!”

His snarl had the required affect. Her mouth closed. Her fingers loosened their crushing grip on his coat. She seemed to rock back onto her heels. The motion barely put a sliver of space between them, but it could have been the world for the way his insides dipped. Color that had nothing to do with the cold kissed her cheeks pink under the stray wisps of hair drifting lazily across her face.

Her hands dropped to her sides with her deliberate step back. It was just a foot, but, with the absence of her heat. The space seemed to crackle with ice.

“There is nothing down this road for you,” she whispered at last, filling the void with a white plume of breath. “But I’m here and I care about you.”

With that, she walked away from him and climbed into the back of the SUV. Frank said something to Marco. Then they were gone. She was gone. He should have been relieved.

“Sir—”

“Don’t.” The warning sizzled in the air between them. “Find who did this. Then find out where I can get my hands on them.”

Maraveet was gone when Killian got home. He knew she would be. His sister wouldn’t stay to face another death, especially not when she’d warned him it would happen. For years Maraveet had been chiding him for his attachment to things. She’d berated him for his weakness, his need for a semblance of normality.

“We’re not normal,” she was forever telling him. “We can’t afford to pretend.”

She’d been right. If he had listened, Molly wouldn’t need a pine box.

Frank hadn’t let him go in. Killian could have anyway. Ultimately, he was the boss. But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Torn to pieces was not how he wanted to remember her. That was how she was brought out, in thick, black bags along with her husband. They had filled too many to be one whole piece.

Someone had taken their time. Had enjoyed themselves. They had made sure there was no doubt in Killian’s mind that he’d pissed someone off. It was an unmistakable message and Killian knew all about leaving this type of message.

He’d been sixteen when his father’s throne had become his. He hadn’t even lost his virginity and yet he was responsible for an entire empire and expected to run it as well, if not better. But he had accepted. He had claimed his future out of sheer greed and vengeance. It was with the knowledge that with his family’s extensive contact list and resources, he would find the people responsible for the slaughter of his parents and put an end to them. He was certain that had it not been for Frank and Molly, he would have gone crazy. That the darkness would have driven him even deeper into that place no child should ever have to face. But they had held him grounded. Frank had protected his body, but Molly had been his sanity. She had saved his life.

No one understood the pain of walking into the place he had always considered his haven and feeling the walls shift around him. No one understood why he couldn’t even walk past his parent’s bedroom or why the places their pictures had once hung lay barren. They weren’t there the nights he’d wake up and swear blood was oozing from the cracks in the ceiling. Molly had begged him to leave the estate, to sell it, to get away from that life before it was too late, but that was just it. It was already too late. There was no help for him.

By nineteen he’d already had more blood on his hands than anyone his age ever should. He had basked in the deaths of his enemies. He had thrived on their pleas, on their suffering and, oh, had he made sure they suffered. He had left no one.

Word of what he’d done spread like gasoline on open flames. It ignited a frenzy of rumors that were beyond ridiculous, everything from him bathing in their blood to putting their mutilated bodies on spikes outside their homes. None of which was true, but he never corrected them. Before long, he was The Scarlet Wolf and he never corrected that either.

Let them fear me, he thought. Let them know what I am capable of, what I will do if anyone comes against me.

What he also never did was admit to anything. He let everyone believe what they wanted, except Juliette. He had told her the afternoon she’d asked if he’d murdered anyone. He hadn’t lied to her. He found he never could. Frank had been right about one thing, she had accepted him. Even knowing what he was, she never turned away. To most, that would make her special, someone who embraced all of him. It made her someone he should hold on to.

It didn’t.

It made her vulnerable. It made her susceptible to all the evils of his world. It left her open. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t stand outside another house and wait for his men to vomit in the bushes. Molly was bad enough, but if he lost Juliette … Christ, if he lost her there would be nothing left. He would demolish the fucking city, the world if he had to, to find the person responsible because he loved her. In the solitary darkness of his own mind, he could openly admit it to himself. He loved her. He loved everything about her. He loved how she made him feel, loved how she could make him laugh. He loved how she could make him forget the monster crouched inside him. But more than all that, he loved how she could walk into a room and make him forget everything he’d done. Maybe she was his second chance. Maybe he was an idiot for not grabbing hold with both hands. But if it was a contest between his sanity and her life, there was no question.

He didn’t need his sanity anyway.

Chapter 22

It was three days before Juliette heard from Killian again. Three days of being left completely in the dark. Three days of worrying and badgering Jake and Melton for information and getting nothing in response. The pair were given orders to keep her away from the manor until further notice and no one knew how long that would be.

The wait was killing her, but she allowed it. She hoped Killian was taking the time to grieve and work through what the right course of action was from there. She hoped the distance was being used to put Molly to rest properly and not plotting revenge. Somehow she doubted it, but nevertheless, she was optimistic.

That night, Jake and Melton drove her home as they always did, neither saying a word … as they also always did. In the backseat, Juliette curled and uncurled her toes inside her pumps. The stiff joints creaked, reminding her she’d been standing in four inch heels for the better part of nine hours. She considered slipping them off, but then she’d have to get them back on and there was no point; they were pulling up in front of the house anyway.

All thoughts of discomfort vanished the moment she spotted the black Escalade parked in the driveway. The sight of it immediately had her heart racing and excitement diving through her. Killian’s name burst out of her even as she threw open her door and scrambled heedlessly out of the SUV. Her pumps clacked noisily in her haste. Part of her was thankful one of the men had thought to shovel the walkway and porch at some point earlier that day. The cleared path made it easier to reach the front door.

“Killian?”

She scrambled into the foyer. Her purse struck the floor to the table by the door and slumped over forgotten. Her heels hit the hardwood all the way to the center of the foyer before she felt it.

The absence.

No one was there. Javier and Laurence were missing from their usual place at the window. Their table was still there with a small pile of things sitting on top. Phil and Vi were nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Tompkins had gone to her daughter’s house two days earlier so Juliette wasn’t expecting to see her, but everyone else…

“Hello?” she called.

Her own voice carried back through the darkness. Images of finding their massacred bodies somewhere at the back of the house had her scrambling backwards. She hit the front porch and twisted to see the driveway where Jake and Melton should have been.

The SUV Jake and Melton normally drove was gone. Its place was an empty square of wet concrete and shadows. Next to it, the SUV she’d seen on arrival sat parked exactly where it had been, the windows dark, but she knew no one was inside. Her gaze swung over the street, clinging to the hope that they’d parked at the curb.

But the black SUV was gone.

Heart a frantic knot in her chest, Juliette hurried back inside. Her heels struck the place next to her purse and she padded bare foot into the sitting room. Most of it was bathed in darkness, except for the plastic table by the window. The light from outside spilled across the white surface, making the rectangle glow. The three items sat in the very middle, in a small pile.

A phone, a set of keys she suspected belonged to the SUV parked outside and an envelope. She tore into the latter.

It was signed by Killian. His graceful penmanship looped across the bottom. His company logo burned at the top, making it all nice and official. But the series of words were wrong, no matter how many times she made herself reread the single page. It registered and she understood and still it made no sense.

In continuation of the original Agreement, this document is legal and binding between two consenting parties. Effective immediately, I, Killian McClary, hereby annul the contract called The Agreement previously decided upon with Juliette Romero. By doing so, both parties acknowledge that the termination is immediate, nonnegotiable, and without prejudice. As per accordance to The Agreement, section iii, paragraph twelve, failure to provide the appropriate thirty day notice, The Primary accepts the penalties and charges as stands:

One mobile device.

One fully functioning vehicle.

One lump sum of ten million dollars to be deposited in The Secondary’s desired account.

By accepting, The Secondary relinquish her rights to the original agreement. All parties are to refrain from further contact henceforth. Failure to do so will result in severe penalties.

Signed and dated by Killian McClary.

It was all so straightforward and to the point and yet she refused to believe he would do this, that he would break their contract without even talking to her. How could he even possibly think she would accept this without a fight?

Pitching the letter down, she turned and sprinted upstairs. She changed quickly out of her work clothes and drew on a thick sweater and jeans. She strapped her feet into a pair of comfy boots, threw on her coat, grabbed the phone, car keys, and letter, and stormed from the house.

It had been seven years since she’d driven a car. The Escalade was definitely bigger and more luxurious than her mother’s old Neon, but it suited her immediate needs. The warm leather cradled her body as though designed for her. The inside smelled of new car and pine. It was nice, but not nice enough to stave off the chill that refused to be subdued no matter how high she turned the heater. It seemed to be radiating from deep inside her own bones. The phone and letter felt like a weights in her pocket and she had to refrain from pitching both out the window.

But she did pull out the phone and dialed Vi’s number. The built in Bluetooth in the car immediately picked up the call and the ringer shrieked through the cabin. Juliette held her breath as she waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” Vi’s voice filled her ears.

Juliette exhaled. “Thank goodness you’re all right.”

“Juliette?” There was a short pause, then, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Juliette shook her head. “Nothing. Where are you?”

There was loud chatter in the background, the low hum of too many people in a single place.

“The mall with Phil. Why? Everything okay?”

Juliette frowned. “Phil’s with you?”

“Yeah, we’re at the food court. He got a call he had to take so he’s wandering around somewhere. He’ll be back in bit though. Why?”

Confusion built in Juliette’s chest, a sensation that insisted she was missing something. Why would Vi still have her security detail and not Juliette?

“Juliette?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I was just curious. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Javier and Laurence, would you? They’re not at the house.”

“Well, you can’t expect them to stick around when Mrs. Tompkins is no longer there, can you? They must have been recalled or whatever happens to bodyguards that aren’t needed.”

She should have known that, Juliette realized with some embarrassment. Of course they were called back. They couldn’t stay when they had no one to watch. But that didn’t explain where Jake and Melton went off to. The pair hadn’t left her side since they were appointed as her detail.

“I’m going to Killian’s for a minute,” she told her sister. “But I’ll be back later tonight, all right?”

She could almost hear Vi shrug. “All right. Have fun.”

The line went dead with a soft click. Juliette put her whole focus on driving rather than worrying herself sick. It was a blessing that the roads were clear. A light flurry had started and snow swirled around the streetlights, making the halos of light shimmer. They blew against Juliette’s windshield, forcing her to start the wipers. Ice was beginning to form, turning the road into a rink. Her fingers tightened on the wheel.

The winding hill leading to Killian’s estate hadn’t been shoveled and snow spun out beneath the tires. Even with her high beams, the road was dark, forcing her to an almost snail’s pace. At the top, the gates opened, which surprised her. She hadn’t been sure what sort of greeting she would get. Pulling into park next to the fountain, she tore out the keys, grabbed the phone, and hopped out. The grounds were brightly illuminated, but she still didn’t see any of the stationed guards. She knew they were there, watching. She could feel their eyes. She ignored the prickling sensation and sprinted to the front doors.

They opened as she had expected them to, but it was Frank looming on the threshold, his face that perfect blankness only he knew how to pull off.

“I need to see him, please,” she blurted at once.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. McClary isn’t taking visitors at the moment.”

Juliette actually flinched at visitors, but she kept her voice even when she spoke. “Please, Frank. He can’t go on the way he is. It’s going to get him killed. Please just let me talk to him for five minutes—”

“I’m sorry, miss, but I have my orders.”

“I love him, Frank,” she said so fast she almost cut her tongue when it caught between her chattering teeth. “It would kill me if something happens to him and I didn’t at least try.”

If he felt anything at all by her declaration, his features gave nothing away. He stared at her with the same careful vacancy as ever.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, sounding like he genuinely meant it. “There is nothing I can do. Please excuse me while I prepare for the shift change in five minutes.”

With that, the door was shut in her face. She stood under the soft glow of light streaming from the bulb above her head. Flakes of snow danced around her, glittering as they caught on her clothes and hair. She stared at the piece of wood keeping her from the pigheaded man inside and wondered if it was possible for someone to be so smart and yet so stupid.

Vision blurring, she began to turn away. Her foot lifted when Frank’s words hit her.

Five minutes. There would be no one guarding the door in five minutes!

Elated, she snapped back around and stayed where she was. The door had no peephole so she felt confident no one could see her and if they knew she was there, she hoped they wouldn’t say anything. She waited, ignoring the sting in her cheeks where the wind kept nipping at the same spot. She stuffed her trembling hands into her pockets and did a little bounce, like that could somehow warm her up. It was the longest five minutes of her life, but it arrived. She wasted no time reaching for the doorknob. It felt oddly warm against the frozen state of her hand. The door gave easily and she scrambled inside.

The warmth made her whimper. It enveloped her in its familiar scent of floor cleaner, wood polish, and cinnamon. She breathed it in quickly before shutting the door and hurrying to the stairs. Her heart drummed anxiously between her ears, sounding impossibly loud in the deserted corridor. She knew the men did routine tours of all the floors, but during shift change, everyone met downstairs before splitting off. That gave her no time at all to get to Killian before she was seen.

Legs lengthening to widen her strides, she practically ran through the northern part of the house. Her every breath came out in choked pants that seemed to be in competition with her heart to see who could be louder. She glanced over her shoulder once before rounding the final corner and coming to a stop at the open doors leading into Killian’s office.

He wasn’t at his desk. The sight of the empty chair made her stomach muscles tense. She had been so sure he would be there. He always was. It made no sense … then she spotted him by the window, nearly concealed in the ring of darkness the single light on his desk had created. He stood with his back to the door, his shoulders unnaturally straight. His aura alone broke her heart. It radiated heat the way an open wound would. Its viciousness rippled through the room, filling it with a heaviness that seemed almost animated. Part of her wondered if she could feel it like an invisible wall if she reached out. But she knew she had very little time before she was spotted.

Moving quickly, she darted into the room and shut the doors behind her. The lock snapped into place with a deft flick of her wrist. Her heart cracked wildly in her chest as she spun to face the man turning away from the window slowly.

Giving him no time to react, she marched to his desk and tore the cord out of the phone. She scooped it and his cell up and ran with them to the bathroom. Both were tossed a bit carelessly into the sink with a noisy clatter. The lock was flicked into place and she shut the door, locking his communication devices inside.

Then she faced the man watching her through the thick folds of black. The shadows painted over his features, turning him into one of their own. But she could just make out the glimmer of his eyes and the white flutter of his dress shirt.

“I don’t accept,” she panted.

He said nothing.

Swallowing down the paste collecting at her throat, she closed the distance between them, but stopped when a good length of space still remained. She dug into her pocket and unearthed the letter.

“You can’t break our contract,” she pressed on. “Not … not like this. Not like what we had meant nothing.” Her voice broke, but she plowed on. “I have done everything you asked me to. I followed every line of the contract you wrote. I never once gave you a reason to regret me.” Her bottom lip trembled and she bit down hard on it. Still, the tears slipped, beyond her control. “You are not allowed to throw us away. I won’t let you, and this … this stupid letter…” The single sheet of paper tore too easily in her brutal grasp despite the heavy weight of its contents. “It goes against the contract.” The annulment papers fluttered like fat snowflakes to the ground at her feet. She sniffled. “You said yourself that the only way to end our contract was with a very good reason in writing. You never stated your reason so I don’t accept it.”