Savior (The Kingwood Duet #2)

“I want all of you, and I want out from under the scrutiny we’re under.”

He doesn’t have to say the scrutiny of my parents. I know what he meant. I want peace, but peace won’t be found on the battlefield. This war they’re both waging is going to get worse before it gets better. I’m still in shock from what my dad said to Alexander. “Are you going to keep dragging her back until she’s six feet under? I won’t allow it. I will fight every step of the way.” How can we see things so differently? How can he think Alexander would ever purposely put me in harm’s way?

With their guards in place, I have an eerie feeling there’ll be only one man standing, and we won’t know which until it’s too late. I can’t focus on that. I need to focus on healing. The manor. My apartment. My parents’ house. None of those places are home. Alexander is my home. I go where he goes. “My recovery could be a few weeks to a few months.”

He must sense my concern regarding the road ahead because he kisses me on the temple. “I’m here for you every step of the way.”

“Are you sure?”

His eyebrow quirks, and he says, “I just got you back. I’m not letting you go again.”

The conviction in his voice is crystal clear, causing me to look deep into his eyes as if I’ll find a different answer there. “I heard you in the car. When you told me why you picked me. I heard you. I heard you through the tears you cried for me, the same tears that were healing my soul while shattering my heart. I heard you when I thought I was dying, and I was okay because it may not have been a lifetime, but the years I’d had with you were worth an eternity to me.”

I hate seeing him cry, but it’s humbling to see the intensity of his love for me so vividly. Touching his cheek, I smooth my thumb over the fine lines at the corner of his eyes. These lines are a lot like us. We were once so young, too young to know better, but old enough to take the risk. Taken back to when I thought I was going to die, and grateful I would get to die looking into his eyes, I remember everything he said . . . “You once asked me why you. Why I picked you. It was always you for me. I was just lucky enough that you chose me. Do you hear me? I’m the lucky one.”

“I’m the lucky one, Alexander. Do you hear me? I’m the lucky one.”

Our lips come together, the embrace not gentle, but defining in its possession. There is not one without the other and there never will be. One hand fists the hair at the nape of my neck, the other glides over my shoulder and lower. He stops himself, though all I want is to feel him everywhere. When our lips part, our breaths are heavy as we look into each other’s eyes. He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes while inhaling deeply. “One way or another you’re going to be the death of me and on that day I’ll welcome it wholeheartedly. Like you, I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in the time I’ve spent with you—living. Loving. Stay with me always, Sara Jane.”

“I’m here. I’m never going anywhere. I’m here because of you. I’ll live for you.”

Leaning back to look into my eyes, pain courses through his brow. “No. I want you to live for you. Never me, because when I’m gone, I need you to live on, carrying me with you.”

“You’re so set on dying. Take it from me, living is so much better.”

I’m given the smile I was hoping to evoke. The reward is so worth it. “What am I going to do with you? You almost die, but here you are a few days later making jokes.” His smile eases, and the worry that’s becoming his trademark reappears. I hate that I see his concern more than his smile these days. He says, “Don’t ever treat your life carelessly. I don’t.”

“You don’t, but you treat your own as if it’s worthless.”

“It is. To me, it is.”

“Alexander,” I say at the end of an exhale.

“You’re fighting something you’ll never win.”

Looking into his eyes, I ask, “If I asked you to stop this search, to live a simple, but good life with me, could you?”

“You shouldn’t ask such a thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t let her death mean nothing. Her life mattered. To me, it mattered, so her death can’t just slip away without someone paying for it.”

Reaching to cup his face, I bring him closer until our lips are a mere breath away, and whisper, “We can pay a detective. You don’t have to live and breathe this murder.”

“I’ve paid people, Sara Jane. They’ve come up empty-handed.”

“Maybe because there’s nothing left to find. No evidence to lead you anywhere. Alexander, please.”

“I’m sorry. I’m unsettled inside. I wish I didn’t have this burning desire to keep going, but I do and it makes me restless, so I can’t promise you’ll live a simple life with me. I can’t promise it will even be good.”

When my hands lower, his hands embrace my neck, sliding up until he’s cradling my face, and kisses my lips. When we part, I lower my gaze to my body. The gravity of what used to be still weighs heavy on my mind. He stands, a towering figure. Even the white room can’t balance the aura of his dark heart. I used to think we were destined to be together. Now I know it was inevitable.

We’re two souls fated to fight a battle we may never win. It’s all for the same outcome—truth and justice—but how we go about it seems to divide us.

He wants answers he may never get. I want him happy. Is it possible for us to both get what we want?

I look up at him and ask, “What can you promise?”

“It will be worth it.”





10





Alexander



I sit watching her sleep. The hours have passed and night fell without warning. It’s easy to lose time in this room. Sometimes it drags. Sometimes the hours speed by without the courtesy of the usual reminders like hunger or sleep. I don’t need anything except her.

She is my air.

She’s what I crave most.

She feeds my soul.

She heals my heart.

She is my survival.

She is my demise.

I’m not na?ve enough to think she doesn’t control my world in the palm of her fragile hand. Or maybe it’s my world that’s fragile. Sara Jane has shown the strength I always saw in her. I just think she’s starting to finally see it herself. She’ll need it.

Resting my elbows on my knees, I lean forward, letting my eyes appreciate that I have the ability to watch her, to see her, to hold her, to touch her. What will come of us? What should come of us? I still feel so guilty. She shouldn’t be in a hospital. She never should have been a target, and we both know it’s because she chose me. How did O’Hare find her? How did he know she was coming back before I did? Did he track her like I had?

I scrub my hands over my face, tired. I may not get answers. The fucker’s dead. His partner is not . . . were they in this together?

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