“We move in circles—”
“No. We move in figure eights.”
“Infinite,” I whisper, looking away.
When I tilt my head up, he says, “I can’t let you go. The minute you showed up tonight, our fate was sealed.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Like you tried to cheat?”
“I’ll succeed this time in stopping you.” His voice is eerily calm, his gaze fixed on me.
A matching glare is sent right back. “I can’t take anymore.”
“I can’t live without you.” His expression wrinkles in confusion. “I would never hurt you, Sara Jane. I’m fucking everything up. I need time to sort through this shit. About the company. About the future. About every fucking thing.”
“I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t think I even know you anymore.” I sniffle, hating that damn weakness showing up before I have time to hide it. “I just want to go home.”
“I said I would stop you, hoping that was enough to keep you here.” Stepping to the side, he adds, “I know it’s not. Firefly, I don’t want you to go. But if you stay, you have to trust me until it’s safe for me to give you everything you need.”
“Trust you?” My eyebrows shoot straight up. “You told me it was wrong to come tonight. I still don’t know why. I heard what your father said. He said you did well. I’ve been a pawn in your wicked game.”
His eyes tighten closed and his hands go to his side. Stepping away from me, he says, “I—” He stops, the words appearing to break him, harm him in ways that make his shoulders sag as he looks down. All it takes is a moment—to process what’s happening, the fact that he’s losing me. Resiliency surges when his eyes meet mine again, a passion burns inside like the day I met him. “You haven’t been a pawn. Not to me. If you stay, I’ll love you until my dying day.”
My heart is conflicted. I know he loves me, and that is the balm that coats the inside and heals the wounds. I just wish I knew what was really going on. “You say that as if you can keep that promise.”
“I can.”
“You say that now.”
“I say that always. Today. Tomorrow. Now and forever.” He’s said that before, but tonight . . .
His struggle to touch me comes in the form of shaking hands that fist tight. His head falls down, his eyes closing. I want to help him. I want to heal him, but I stay. “I don’t know what to think, Alexander. I don’t know what to believe.”
“Don’t believe what you heard, what you’ve seen, or what you think. Believe in me.”
“How?” I whisper. “You haven’t been yourself for a while and then when I heard you talking . . . Why would your father say that about me?”
“He thinks you can be useful to him, but you’ve got to understand, I would never let that happen. I would never let him take advantage of you.”
“I need you to be more than some guard against your dad—”
“He’s not my dad. He’s my father. There’s a difference.” He sags against the door, his fight leaving his body. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be, baby.”
“How about honest?”
It’s small, but it’s full of pride and love when he smiles. “Always so damn feisty.”
“I’m serious, Alexander. He said you did well in reference to me. What did he mean?”
The smile is wiped clean from his expression, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m holding him accountable or because I’ve brought the conversation back to his father. Maybe both. “I told him not to speak of you again.”
“What is going on?” I move closer, hoping my plea can be seen as easily as it’s heard. He licks the corner of his mouth, the heaviness returning, so I say, “Please. With love comes trust. I will never betray you. I swear on my life. You say you’ll love me until your dying day, now trust me the same.”
“I do.” I move closer to him, bridging our troubled waters. Reaching for my hand, he takes it. “It was never about a lack of trust in you, Sara Jane. Please believe me. I never wanted to place my burdens on you. Your heart is too big and you would try to fix something you can’t. You try to fix me, and you can’t. But if you know that, you’ll leave, and I never wanted to lose you. I’m sorry.”
“I would try to help you because I love you. Don’t you know how helpless I feel when I see you in pain and don’t even know what causes it?”
“You know already.”
“Your mother’s death.”
He nods. “I think Kingwood Enterprises is involved.”
The weight of this bombshell drops my mouth open. “Oh my God, Alexander. Your father?”
“I’m not sure about my father. My mother was his reason for living. Her death destroyed him. He was always cold, but her death turned him to ice.”
“Then why do you think the company is involved?”
“Cruise and I found a lead a year ago that we followed into the district along the river. Two drug dealers were selling to two Kingwood corporate execs. Beyond the problem that we had execs strung out, they were blackmailed into dealing inside their division of the company or risk being exposed.”
“What happened?”
“The execs were fired and the dealers . . . we’ve made a few enemies in the search for my mother’s killer. They plea-bargained their way out of a sentence after we tipped off the cops anonymously. They know who I am. They know I’m involved. They took a deferred sentence in lieu of community service and rehab.”
My fingers drag into my hair in shock. “What are you talking about? Are you involved in a drug ring?”
“I’m not using, and I’m not selling, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you’re involved?” I turn around and close my eyes, hoping this nightmare will go away. Unfortunately I only find the darkness behind my lids, the same as when they’re open. I tug my bottom lip under my teeth. My thoughts are rampant, unsettling at best. “What have you done? What have you done to us?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late for that. You’re in danger. That’s what you’re telling me, right?”
“You’re in danger, Firefly.”
Me? I rub my temples and across my closed eyes willing the tears to stay pocketed away. Turning around, I ask, “Is that everything?”
“Last week, one of the execs got out. Cruise contacted him and learned new information.”
“About your mother or the company?”
“My mother. He told Cruise he had come across a woman a few times down in the Lower Banks district.”
As much as I don’t want him involved in anything illegal or worse, something that could get him hurt or killed, I now know the truth. He’s not going to give this search up until he has the answers he wants. “And?”
“She was mumbling my father’s name and crying. She was also high as a fucking kite and the last thing she said before passing out was Madeline Kingwood.”
“Why would she say your mother’s name?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”