He heads for the door, ending the discussion.
I cross my arms over my chest, and figuratively dig my heels in for the battle. “You promised, Alexander. You promised me I could trust you, and you would be open about what’s going on.”
Whipping around, the fury in his eyes penetrates parts of me and causes me to gasp in astonishment. His presence is menacing as he returns to me in two large strides. “Sara Jane. You’re not my keeper. This is a business I’m running here, and I need to tend to an issue that has arisen. Period. I won’t ask for permission. I will include you to the point I can, and that is to keep you protected from the bastards out there who don’t give a fuck about our lives.” He points to the others in the room so I know he is not just talking about him and me.
Despite the humiliating tears in my eyes, I find my own power and cross my arms. “Okay, but I will not go back to the manor. I’m not leaving.”
Leaning even closer, tilting his head, his gaze hits mine hard. “What are you doing?”
“Facing the facts. I’m in now. But I feel safer here than at your home, especially after spending time with your father lately.” Taking his hands in mine, I add, “I’m your friend. Your soul mate. Your family.”
“I need to know you’re safe.” He looks down. “That’s the only thing that allows me to pursue these leads.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ve made sure I’m safe. But look at me.” When he does, I whisper, “I can take care of myself. Part of not shutting me out is trusting I can be more to you now that I have some idea of what you need. I love you, both the dark and light.”
“Why are you so difficult?”
“Because I let things slide for too long, and like you, I’m in too deep. So I either keep threatening you, which obviously does no good, or I join you.”
“I don’t want you to join me. I want you to be safe, by my side. But safe.”
“I can do that.”
“There’s no going back once you do.”
Resolve traverses around my heart, sealing it in strength and momentum. “There’s no going back already. If I’ve caused discourse by being here, too bad. I’m staying. For us, Alexander. It’s for us.”
“It’s not saf—”
“No one is going to hurt me. As long as we’re together, I’m fine.”
“I won’t survive if I don’t have you.”
“That’s why I’m staying. We’re a team.”
A smile appears, one that tends toward amused. “I always loved how feisty you are, even if it drives me crazy at times.”
I shrug my shoulders. This is not new information, but I feel settled somewhat. “I’m going to make sure you have your happy ending, Alexander.”
“Why?”
“I know you’re good inside, and I’m going to help you find it again.”
And there is the smile I fell in love with. It’s a mixture of vulnerable boy and cocky man. Mischievous, adorable, and sexy all in one. “You’re willing to fight for me?”
I wrap my arms around him, leaning against his chest. His arms come around me, and I whisper, “We’re more than people in love. We’re souls entwined in eternity.”
“Thank you, Firefly. Please always fight for us.”
Tilting my head up, I look at him. “I will. That’s a promise I’ll keep.”
Strong arms hold me tight. His chin rests on the top of my head. I close my eyes. I have to be brave. I can sense that his hurricane is brewing. I just have to ride out the storm along with him.
Everything he’s taught me—free-thinking, wanting me to be strong—shows me what matters: love. This is it. This is the time I must be the person he believes me to be. This is the time I prove how strong I am.
14
Alexander
Pulling the piece of paper from my pocket, I double-check the address and look up at the door. The painted letters are faded. Bricks are covered in soot and garbage litters the ground. The alley I face has a working light, but it’s dark between the other end that’s lit and me. I rev my bike and glance at Cruise. He nods and takes the lead, riding ahead of me. Once we reach the end, we stop under the lamp rigged to the side of the building.
I cut the engine and pocket my key. “This is it,” I say, looking up at the dark red door. A paint job couldn’t save this door. The wood is rotted, the handle barely hanging on by a screw. There’s not a lock in sight, so I open it before I can talk myself out of it. Cruise follows me inside, but his hand hits my arm and he takes the lead.
The building appears abandoned as reported by the guy who tipped us off, but I’m not dumb enough to believe that. My gut feeling says we are not alone. The screech of a cat causes Cruise to jump, but I remain steady on our quest, as I know this tip will pay off.
A lamp on the far side of the room illuminates a worn-out sofa with exposed springs and spider webs. A woman lies on top of it in a ragged dress. I would wager she’s no older than my father, but with skin that’s peeked into death’s door, she looks well over seventy. Staring at her eyes, they’re wide open but vacant. “April?”
Her light-colored eyes pivot my way as I shine my phone down, using the flashlight to get a solid look at her. She mumbles, “Did you bring me something?”
“What do you want?”
“Anything to take away this feeling.”
“What feeling is that?”
“Life.” She sits up, hunches forward on her knees, but keeps her eyes on me. “I’ve seen you.”
“You know me?”
“No. I’ve only seen you.”
“Where?”
“You look like your father when I knew him.”
“You know my father?” I ask, shocked.
Sitting back, she laughs as well as an empty shell of a person can. “I know him. Why are you here, rich boy?”
I’m intrigued that she knows anything about me, much less seems to actually know my father, when I just heard her name recently. “I was told you might have some information on my mother.”
Her smile disappears, and she drags her dirty forearm across her lips. “I don’t know anything about her.”
“How do you know my father?”
“You got anything?”
In high school, I had friends and made connections between buyers and sellers, though I was never a dealer. That knowledge helped when I started searching for my mother’s killer. I was around addicts enough to know what she wants. “No.” I hold firm in front of her, needing answers.
She stands and walks around the couch. Her hair is matted and hasn’t been washed in a long time; the stench is either coming from her or the sofa. It’s indistinguishable. “Did he send you here like the last guys?”
“Last guys?”
Leaning against a broken doorway, she faces me, but her eyes shift quickly between Cruise and me. “He tried to kill me. More than once.”
“Who?”