Consumed by Truths Page 5

  I frown. “When do you think the baby is due?”

  “A week or two?”

  I laugh. “I look that big, huh? I’m just over half-way through. I still have months left.”

  His eyes bulge in his head. “Really? I don’t think your stomach has any more room to grow.”

  “Well, that’s a helpful comment,” I growl snakily.

  He laughs. “Sorry, I don’t know what to say around pregnant women.”

  “But you do know how to talk around people, right?”

  He nods, laughing harder now. “You have a lot of spunk. You are a lot like your father; you know that?”

  I shake my head and turn back to the water. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He isn’t really my father.”

  “Oh,” Beckett says, staring out at the water. Neither of us speaks for a moment, just soaking up the beauty that is Alaska.

  “Let’s go get something to eat,” he eventually says.

  “Why?”

  “So I can tell you you are wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “Who your father is.”

  He starts walking then, not waiting for me to follow. He knows I will; I’m too intrigued.

  There is a small cafe that serves mainly seafood. A smell I’m getting more averse to the bigger my stomach grows. We both sit at a small table outside overlooking the creek.

  Beckett orders a salad with salmon.

  And I order a grilled cheese.

  “Really? A grilled cheese?” he asks.

  “Yes, I’m sick of seafood.”

  He grins. “You’re just like your father. He took up the job of fisherman. He used to work on yachts for a living, but he hates fish.”

  “That’s your big reason why I’m like my father? Because we both hate fish?”

  “No, that’s not why.” He leans back in his chair and studies me. “Do you know who I am?”

  “You’re Beckett,” I say, not offering that I think he’s security my father hired to help protect me. And that my father also tried to set the two of us up on a date because he’s close to my age.

  He nods. “What else?”

  “You’re a smug asshole, who thinks he knows more about my life than I do because you spent some time with my uncle.”

  He leans forward with a smug smile. “I am those things. But I’m also right. Because I spent months alone with your father. And there wasn’t a single day that passed when he didn’t talk about you.”

  He leans back.

  I swallow down the lump. It doesn’t mean anything. My uncle-father fucked up so many times. I’ve moved past what he did. I’ll even call him father. But that doesn’t mean he really is.

  “Who am I?” he asks again, with a challenging raised eyebrow.

  “Beckett—a dickhead.”

  “Who am I?”

  “A douchebag.”

  “Who am I?”

  “A dumbass.”

  “Who am I?”

  “You’re my security guard! Okay…you’re my security guard, bodyguard, whatever you want to call it. You’re here to protect and take care of me, happy?”

  He smiles, smugly. “Yes, I am. Your father hired me initially to track you down and make sure you were safe. He hired me to pull you out of that situation before the final round, because even after everything he did to prepare you—even after making sure there was no way the boy couldn’t fall in love with you, couldn’t kill you, he still wouldn’t put your fate in Enzo’s hands. He hired me to pull you out of there and keep you safe.”

  “My uncle doesn’t have anything to do with Enzo falling in love with me.”

  “Yes, he does. Enzo loves playing the knight in shining armor, the rescuer, even if he will never admit it. Your father made sure you were in need of rescuing.”

  I frown.

  “And your father made sure you didn’t die. He sent me to keep that from happening. I pulled you out of that car before you caught on fire. I saved you, because your father sent me to.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s my father.”

  “Sure, it does.”

  “You really saved me? You were the one that pulled me to safety?”

  He nods.

  Our food is delivered. And we eat in silence. When I finish my last bite, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key.

  “What’s this?”

  “A key to your house.”

  “My house? I don’t have enough money to own a house.”

  He laughs. “Sure, you do. Why do you think your father has been saving all his money for years? Why did he make you live in a trailer park instead of a house? So when you really needed the money to disappear, to live off of instead of being vulnerable to the Black organization, you would have it.”

  My eyes grow big as I pick up the key. “Come on, I’ll show you. I thought it might be better if he showed you. But you’re stubborn. You need to be convinced of how good your father really is. And your father will never say he’s a good father.”

  I frown. “You do realize he sold me, right? He had me beaten every day for years.”

  He hesitates. “I know that sometimes as parents, we make the wrong choices for our kids—terrible choices. Choices that at the time, we see as the only way out. But that doesn’t mean he is any less your father. Or that he loves you any less.”

  I feel my heart opening to my father again. Even opening to being a little friendlier toward Beckett. He’s being nice, even if my father is paying him to be nice.

  Beckett drives me in his Jeep. He blasts country music the entire time.

  “I didn’t know you were from the south?”

  “I’m not, but my ex was. She got me into country music.”

  That’s when I realize Beckett is also dealing with a broken heart.

  He slows the car at the end of a gravel road about two minutes from my father’s house. But unlike that one-bedroom cabin, this is a house. A real house—no, a mansion.

  “Oh, my god,” I say as my jaw drops at the sight of it. “There is no way I can afford this house.”

  “It’s already paid for.”

  “Wow,” I step out of the car and slam the door shut. It’s a two-story cabin, with giant windows at the front. It backs up to the edge of a hillside, and I can’t wait to see the view from the back.

  I start walking to the door.

  “You are so cute when you waddle,” Beckett says.

  “I do not waddle,” I say, although I totally do.

  He chuckles. “Come on.” He holds the door open for me, and I step inside.

  The entrance is amazing. It’s double-height, and you can see straight through the house to the incredible view at the back.

  I walk through the ginormous kitchen; seriously, it’s huge. I don’t know what I will do with all the cabinet space. I spot the stone fireplace I’m already in love with in the corner of the living room. And then I walk outside onto the deck that could easily hold fifty people. I was right; it has a view of a canyon full of evergreens and a private lake. The view is breathtaking.

  “The house has four bedrooms, three baths, a jacuzzi, and this view. And you’re telling me the man who did all of this isn’t your father?”

  Tears, damn tears. My father did all of this for me. He ensured I lived, no matter the cost.

  “He even started on a nursery, but then figured you would want to be able to decorate it yourself.”

  For the first time, despite the pain, I can see a future. One that isn’t just bleak. One that isn’t just dripping in pain. One where I can learn to live again.

  My father is in my life again. And I decide here and now to give him a fresh start. Whatever his past mistakes, he loves me now. And I need people that love me.

  And despite Beckett being hired by my father, he could become a good friend too. Nothing more—we would never be lovers. Never fall in love. But we could be friends.

  This is my life now. And for the
first time, I feel like I’m finally letting go of my past. I’m finally facing my future.

  And then I feel the pain in my stomach. It rips through my body like fire. Shuttering any promise that the future is going to be bright. I grip my stomach as I fall to the floor in pain.

  This can’t be happening. The baby has to be okay. Because as much as I’m letting go, I can’t let go of the only piece I have left of Enzo.

  7

  Enzo

  I dropped Langston off in Miami, before taking a flight to Los Angeles. By now he has already disappeared. If I return to Miami, I won’t find him. And I don’t know if that comforts me or rips my heart out more.

  This isn’t goodbye. It’s just temporary. He’s alive, but for now, he has to remain dead.

  Now, I’m in LA. And I have no idea if this is a dead-end or not. What would Felix be doing in LA? Is he hiding? Regrouping? If he is trying to get control of my technology, money, and team, then he is in the wrong place. Miami is where he needs to be.

  This is definitely a dead end. I should do my own research to find Felix. But Langston was always the best at hunting people down, digging into their pasts.

  I’m on my own.

  I head into the first bar I see, knowing if anyone is going to know about criminal activity in this city, it’s going to be in a bar. But more importantly, I need a drink.

  I hate sitting at the bar. I feel exposed; you have to make small talk with the bartender and the other people sitting at the bar. But it's the best place to find out any information about whether or not Felix is here. Sitting at the goddamn bar.

  There is only one person sitting at the bar, though—a blonde woman in a tight red dress.

  Holy shit!

  It can’t be…

  I’m dreaming. I have to be. Even if Liesel is alive, the chances of me seeing her while walking into the first bar I see in one of the biggest cities in the country is astronomical. The odds are not in my favor. I’m definitely dreaming.

  But the woman turns as if sensing something important is happening behind her.

  Our eyes connect.

  Then our hearts.

  This is real.

  She stands, dropping her glass of chardonnay on the floor as we run into each other’s arms.

  “You’re alive,” we both say at the same time as my arms wrap around her tiny frame, and she buries her tear-streaked face in my chest.

  I hold her tightly, as another piece of my heart heals. Another part of me is whole again.

  “How?” we both ask.

  But the tears tell me it’s the wrong question.

  “Kai?” I ask.

  Her jaw tightens, and more tears fall as she slowly shakes her head no.

  Langston and now Liesel have both confirmed they think Kai is dead. Felix said she was dead, but I don’t believe a word out of his mouth. I saw the evidence myself. But somehow the ghosts of my life keep finding a way back to me.

  Langston.

  Liesel.

  They both died.

  But yet, here is Liesel.

  “Langston’s alive too,” I say.

  She bites her lip like she wants to say something but decides against it. Finally, she says, “Is he here?”

  “No, he um…” I rub my neck. How do I tell her he had a psychotic break? “He decided he needed to stay dead a little longer.”

  She nods. “Let’s get a drink.”

  We both sit at the bar. She orders another chardonnay. I order a whiskey.

  “What are you doing in LA?” I ask.

  She stiffens, her fingers sliding up and down the stem of her wine glass. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Liesel? Are you in trouble?”

  She shakes her head. “Not anymore. I was broken. Devastated by all that I had lost. I needed to get away. I needed to find something worth living for again. This is where I ended up.”

  I can read between the lines. I know what she isn’t saying. She came here to find the child she gave up, the only thing in her head worth living for. But if she doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask.

  “You should know, Felix is possibly here, in LA,” I say.

  Her shoulders tense at Felix’s name.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m following a lead. It could be nothing, or he could be here.”

  She nods. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

  I hate how all the people I love have to run from me to stay safe. Danger follows me everywhere. She’s right. She isn’t safe with me.

  I wish Langston had come with me. I could have told him to take Liesel with him. Protect her and keep her safe. They both love each other. But he’s already gone. And I have no way to contact him.

  I could suspend my search for Felix, find Langston instead, get Liesel somewhere safe, then resume my hunt for Felix again.

  “You have to disappear. You have to remain dead. If Felix thinks you are dead, then you are in no danger.”

  She nods.

  “Do you know how to do that? Disappear?”

  She bites her lip covered in red lipstick. “Yes—no. I don’t know.”

  “Give me your purse.”

  She hands it to me.

  I pull out her credit cards, her driver’s license, and any other identifying pieces of information. I put them all in my pocket. I will incinerate them as soon as I leave here.

  I pull out all the cash I have and shove it into her purse.

  Her eyes widen.

  “You will never use credit cards again. You will not return to your apartment. You will not use your name again. Not until Langston or I find you and tell you it is safe, understand?”

  She nods, but I can see the fear.

  “You can do this. There are thousands of dollars of cash in there. You only have to stay hidden until Felix is dead. Then you will be safe. A couple of weeks tops.”

  She nods.

  “Let me get you an ID,” I say.

  “ID?”

  “Yes, if you decide to buy a plane ticket you will need one. If you need a job, find an hourly one, preferably a waitressing job or something that pays mostly in tips. That way, you don’t need a social security number. Don’t stay in one place for long. Don’t go anywhere you’ve ever lived before. Don’t stay with any family or friends.”

  She frowns at that one. I know she doesn’t have any family or friends outside of Langston and me.

  I spot a group of girls in the corner bar. Two out of the five are blonde, and Liesel could pass for either.

  “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” I say.

  I wipe the makeup from my shirt where Liesel hugged me, and then I strut over to the women. I wish Kai was here; she’s always better at stealing things than I am.

  “Ladies!” I say, holding my arms out and ensuring my shirt rises enough to see my hard abs. “Can I buy you all a round of shots?”

  All the women ogle my body.

  “Aren’t you with that woman over there?” one of the women says—most likely the smart, reasonable, not currently drunk one.

  “She’s my sister. She likes to play wingman sometimes,” I say with a wink, slurring just enough of my words that my next move is believable.

  “Sure, we want tequila shots!” one of the women says.

  “Tequila it is then!” I stumble, landing in the blonde woman on the end’s lap. She grins, not at all upset that I fell on top of her.

  “It looks like someone had too much to drink. You should come home with me,” she says, stroking my chest.

  I grin wider, as I reach into her purse and pull out her wallet. I then shove it into my back pocket.

  “Maybe,” I wiggle my eyebrows. “First, those shots.” I stumble up and back to the bar next to Liesel. I flag the bartender to start on the shots, and then I slide the wallet into Liesel’s purse.

  “Smooth,” she says with a smile.

  “You understand all the rules? You disappear. Keep a
low profile. Don’t talk on the phone. Don’t surf the internet. Nothing. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last thing,” I reach into her purse and pull out her cell phone. This will be the hardest part for Liesel. “You can’t use your cell phone. Ideally, no phones at all. But if you absolutely need one, then use a payphone or buy a burner phone. Understand? Don’t borrow someone else’s. Don’t trust anyone, but me and Langston.”

  She nods, then leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m good at playing dead.”

  Liesel gets up and walks out of the bar—out of my life.

  Two dead people have returned to my life. Two ghosts have reappeared only to disappear again.

  My heart clenches—Kai.

  Could she be alive too?

  Whether she is alive or not, it makes no difference. My mission is the same. Kill Felix. Take out anyone who followed him over me. Ensure that if Kai is alive, she is safe.

  8

  Kai

  “You’re going to be fine,” Beckett says as he drives me down the hill to the small clinic. This town doesn’t even have a hospital. I have no idea how close the nearest hospital is, but I’m guessing close to an hour plane or boat ride away.

  My head feels dizzy, I want to vomit, and I feel the blood trickling between my legs.

  Please, God, don’t let this baby die.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Beckett repeats.

  “I don’t care about me! I’m worried about the baby.”

  “Well, if you die, the baby dies, so you better care about living.”

  I growl. “Just drive.”

  He sighs. “Take my hand.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just trust me. It will make you feel better.”

  I glare. Was he listening to anything I was saying?

  “It will help calm you down, which will lower your anxiety and blood pressure, which will help the baby.”

  I grab his hand quickly and forcibly. I squeeze his hand with everything I have, partially from being angry with him, and partially from being so scared about what I’m facing.

  “The baby is going to be fine,” he says.