I don’t know what to feel. So much of the last four years has been about preparing myself for the chance at redemption. Too much energy has been focused on hiding what happened to me. My biggest fears haven’t come true.
Aside from being set up by Stellan, Blaine and John in the media, getting fired by Harry, and having them use hackers to make it look like I’m a deranged stalker, the day’s going damn well.
“I trust you completely. Wholly. And that means we can work together,” she says. Her grip on me tightens. Her heart skitters against my ribs, and one hand slides down my back, resting at the base of my spine. She’s warm and soft, and the way she sinks into me is comforting.
The body cannot lie.
“You said you had a plan for revenge,” I venture, rubbing her back, breathing slowly against her. All the adrenaline that coursed through me minutes ago like rain in a drought starts to recede, replaced by a protective streak that’s bigger than before, if that’s possible.
She loves me.
In spite of what she knows, she trusts me.
No. Scratch that.
Because she knows the truth, she trusts me even more.
“I do.” She chuckles. “It involves video.”
I tense. “More video...of me?”
“No. Me.”
I frown and pull back, holding her at arm’s length. “Explain. I don’t want more video of you anywhere, Lindsay.”
“What if I told you my darknet hacker friend got their hands on a video of that night, where they – where Stellan and – where...” She clears her throat and squares her shoulders. “Where they aren’t wearing masks?”
“That video exists?” I’m skeptical. “You’ve seen it?”
“Yes.” The evil grin that spreads across her face makes my insides ripple. It’s not a smile.
It’s a vow.
“I don’t want another video of them attacking you to become public. Not even if it means taking them down.”
“You will when you see this one.”
“Damn it, Lindsay, I don’t want to see it, and I don’t want anyone else to, either!” I shout, ready to explode.
“It’s proof, Drew.” As her voice drops, she sounds exactly like her mother. Cunning, sharp, and in for the kill. “Proof. We’ll destroy them. It’s what I’ve wanted.”
“What we’ve wanted,” I say reluctantly. Although it’s true, I hate the idea that she has to face media scrutiny again.
Has to be exposed like that.
“There’s something else,” she says, watching me. Her eyes narrow. “What is it? What are you worried about?”
“If you spread that video, they’ll spread mine.” The truth makes my stomach roil.
“Who says they haven’t already?”
I close my eyes, the truth of her question turning my mind into a blank wall, a white canvas, a black hole.
A rustling sound, louder than the wind on leaves, catches my attention. Instinct draws my hand to my weapon, which I’m not wearing. Lindsay halts. I press one finger to my lips and urge her with my hands, carefully guiding us both into a crouch, shoulders hunched. Who’s out there? Gentian? One of Harry’s Secret Service guys?
“Harry, I don’t understand why we need to be on the beach. This godforsaken wind does so much damage to my skin. You know that!”
Monica.
“Is that my mom?” Lindsay whispers, horrified. “What is she doing outside? She hates walking on sand.”
Given that the Bosworths have lived in this oceanfront estate for all of Lindsay’s life, the contradiction makes no sense.
Then again, when you understand Monica’s all about appearances, it fits.
“We need privacy, Monica.” Harry’s hand slips around her waist, the gesture intimate. Lindsay stops moving, staring at the sight with a gentle interest that breaks my heart. Harry and Monica have always struck me as a political couple, their marriage a business arrangement.
The idea that there’s any love between them – other than the love of power – is surprising.
Monica rests her head on Harry’s shoulder and laughs. “Oh, you. Mr. President.”
“Not yet.” Harry’s low voice carries on the wind. Lindsay’s watching him with rapt attention, her eyes bouncing from her mother to her father. “We’ve got a long way to go.”
I have to close my eyes and fight the memory of my own parents, so different. Mom and Dad loved each other with a public reverence I found annoying as a teen.
When I look at Lindsay, I feel the same intensity my parents had for each other.
“Can’t be any longer than the road we’ve already traveled, Harry. We have to spin this Drew mess,” Monica says.
Lindsay cuts away to me, mouthing Drew mess?
I shrug. I stroke her arm as she leans into me, her warmth calming. Soothing. I’m still ten thousand live wires on the inside, though the current’s turned down. Too much input. I need time to process everything, and hour by hour my situation worsens.
Lindsay smiles at me.
Or not.
“I’ve taken care of it,” Harry replies.
“Nolan Corning is three steps ahead of you, Harry. He’ll use Drew against us.”
Nolan Corning. There’s that damn name again.