“The Griffin. A symbol of what we stand for.”
For some reason I was finding it hard to breathe. I couldn’t look away from that tattoo. A picture that clawed at my memory, begging me to understand. “Why does it seem familiar?”
“Because your father had one just like it.”
I jerked my gaze up to him. He was completely serious. “No, he…” But even as I thought the words, a memory flashed to mind, a memory I’d always assumed was some fantastical dream. Dad had taken me to the lake, intent on teaching me to swim. I think I was four, although not positive. He’d told me not to be afraid, that he’d keep me safe, he’d always keep me safe. Was it real? Had he truly visited me?
Tears burned my eyes, I shook my head. “S.P.I. betrayed him—”
“No, we didn’t.” His hard gaze flashed with anger and something that looked suspiciously like compassion. Dare I believe him? But if he was telling the truth, what did this mean?
“I don’t believe you.”
He held his arms as wide as the handcuffs would allow. “Why would I lie to you? I have no reason.”
“You have every reason,” Aaron spoke sharply from behind me. “Get away from him, Cameron.”
Maddox’s gaze turned to steel. Before I could even blink, the agent surged from the cot, latched onto my arm and jerked me back, directly into his hard chest. A muscled forearm wrapped around my throat with enough pressure that it brought tears to my eyes.
“Leave her alone,” Aaron said softly, as if he was in total control.
Maddox chuckled, his breath warm on the top of my head. “You know I could so easily kill her.”
“And then what?” Aaron asked, holding his arms wide, a look of bewildered amusement on his face. “I’ll kill you? What’s the point?”
“At least you won’t have her ability to add your little collection.”
Even through the pain and confusion, his words bothered me. Add to his collection? As if we were priceless dolls. Maddox’s arm tightened. Air couldn’t get down my throat. I squeezed my eyes closed as blackness taunted.
“She’s just a girl!” Aaron snapped.
“And I was only eighteen the first time you and your little friends captured me.”
They knew each other? I barely had time to consider that comment before Maddox’s arm tightened, crushing my throat. Light faded, the world spun.
“So what?” Aaron hissed. “You’re going to kill her? Then do it.” His tone was stern. He was totally serious. I was going to die, here in this dungeon. I’d been worried I’d killed Maddox, instead he’d kill me.
Then, just as suddenly as he’d grabbed me, Maddox relaxed his hold. My body quivered as glorious air seeped into my lungs. Maddox shoved me away. Off balance and practically unconscious, I stumbled. Aaron was there, reaching for me, but I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I evaded his grasp and spun around, falling back against the wall.
“Cameron,” Aaron called to me.
I shook my head. I had to get away. Away from them. Away from this dungeon. Not looking at either man, I turned and raced through the door. Aaron would have let Maddox kill me. Maddox wasn’t on my side. I couldn’t trust anyone. I stumbled up the steps, clinging to the railing for balance. I’d been so stupid to think I could deal with this, that I could submerge myself into this lifestyle.
“Cameron?”
Lewis was there at the top of the stairs. Olivia had told him, or maybe he’d read my thoughts. It didn’t matter, all that mattered was he was there. I didn’t pause, but slammed into his hard body.
He caught me, holding me tight against his bare chest. Vaguely I was aware that he wore only cargo shorts, apparently having come from bed. He smelled warm, and wonderful and comforting.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I sniffed, cursing the tears that were forming in my eyes. I didn’t want him to see me cry, but I didn’t want to leave him either. “Everything.” The numbness in my body was fading fast and my throat ached.
I felt his body stiffen right before he cupped my shoulders and stepped back. Instead of compassion, he looked furious. “Damn it, you went and saw that agent, didn’t you?”
Shock gave way to fury. Immediately I threw up my mind wall. “Don’t read my thoughts!”
His face flushed. “I can’t help it!”
There was only a foot between us, but suddenly it felt like miles. I pushed him aside and rushed into my room, slamming the door shut. I needed someone to comfort me, not condemn me.
Lewis had apparently never heard of privacy and opened my door, barging in. “Why, Cam? Why would you go down there? Why would you put yourself in danger?”
I stomped my foot. “Because I have a heart! I have conscience and couldn’t sleep until I knew he was okay.” But we both knew what I was implying…it was there, hanging in the charged air between us. I hadn’t trusted Lewis to tell me the truth about Maddox’s well being.
His jaw clenched. “You have a lot of compassion for the man who killed our parents.”
I flushed, feeling guilty as hell and at the same time angry that Lewis would say something so insensitive. “He didn’t have anything to do with their deaths, he’s too young.”
He shook his head, pacing across my room. “You know what I mean.”
Even as much as I wanted to love Lewis, there was a part of me that realized he was a tiny bit delusional. I would never be foremost in his mind and heart because his vendetta would always be first.
“How do we even know it’s the truth?” I asked softly, trying a different tactic.
He froze and looked at me like we were five and I’d just told him Santa Clause wasn’t real. “What do you mean?”
I paused for a moment, wondering if I dared to go on. Why not, I’d already pissed him off. Aaron was probably angry at me too. What did I have to lose? “I mean, who saw it? How do we know it happened?”
His face flushed with anger. “Aaron saw it! He saw the destruction! What was left after they attacked!”
What was left. My stomach revolted at the image. I pressed my hand to my gut and settled on the edge of my bed. I’d pushed him too far. Perhaps so far that we’d never recover.
Lewis snorted, obviously disgusted with me, and moved toward the door. “This isn’t some game, Cam. This isn’t some high school drama bullshit. This is real and you need to pick sides.”
“Or what?” I whispered, feeling bitterly cold and not really sure if I wanted the answer.
He paused at the door, but didn’t look back. “Or maybe…you should leave.”
Chapter 16
I should have let it go. At the least, I should have been angry with Lewis and avoiding him. Instead, at 3 a.m. after tossing and turning, I found myself standing outside Lewis’s bedroom door. I lifted my fist to knock, only to hesitate. I’d never truly had a boyfriend, therefore never gotten into an argument. I felt unsure about how to proceed.
Before I could make a decision, the door opened and Lewis stood there. His eyes were intense, drilling. He wore only shorts, no shirt, and his hair was mussed. Although he wasn’t a body builder, he was cut; his muscles obvious.
I knew, standing there, that I had forgotten to cover my thoughts and I knew he heard me thinking about how gorgeous he was. But instead of putting up my wall, in some spiteful way, I found myself leaving it down, wanting to be honest, wanting to force him to be honest with me.
The house and hall were quiet as we stood there, not saying a word to each other. But we didn’t need to say much. I could tell by the stiffness of his body he was still angry with me. I was confused. I was hurt. I was a little afraid and I wanted him to know…to understand. I also wanted him to hold me because he looked good, really, really good and in this mansion, in this world, he was the only person I could turn to. Damn it all, I wanted him to pull me close; I wanted him to hold me. And he knew these thoughts and still he didn’t reach out, merely looked away. It broke my h
eart.
“Do you really want me to leave?” I hadn’t meant to say the words, to sound so pathetic and weak…the sort of girl I hated. But here I was, practically begging him with my sad puppy-dog face to say that he was still, possibly, in love with me. Frankly, I hated myself for it.
He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face as if he were tired. Tired of me? Tired of my questions? Or tired of the situation?
He reached out, latching onto my arm and pulled me into the room. Safely inside he closed the door. I fell back against the wall and he stepped toward me, pressing his body to mine, the side of his face to mine.
For a moment he just held me there. Our bodies intimately close, his warm breath ticking my ear. I wrapped my arms around his waist and soaked in his essence; felt the thump of his heart against mine. God, I didn’t want it to end. After a few moments, he stepped back, leaving me alone and cold. I curled my hands against my thighs, resisting the urge to latch onto him. He didn’t look at me, but stared at some point across the room.
“Well?” I finally demanded. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to leave?”
He raked his hands through his hair and paced toward the large, Queen bed. “Of course not. I want you here, but I want you on my side.”
“It’s not about sides,” I insisted. “It’s about right and wrong.”
He spun around to face me. “Right and wrong?”
He was getting angry. I was just as frustrated, realizing he was too emotional to have a simple conversation. This isn’t what I’d wanted to accomplish by coming here. “How can you not understand?”
He threw his arms in the air. “Understand what? That if that man was released he’d report immediately to his supervisors and we’d end up captured or worse, dead like our parents?”
My blood went cold at his words. “You don’t know that.”
“I do, I’ve dealt with people like him before.”
Stunned, I found myself stuttering. “You…you mean to say you’ve captured others and tortured them?”
He stood near his window, framed by the dark blue curtains that matched his eyes. “How else do you suggest we get information?”
I felt sick. He hadn’t denied it. I didn’t know what they could do. I had this slow, horrible feeling I didn’t know anything. “You’re torturing him! You saw his life, you saw the man he was and is. He has parents, a sister, a girlfriend, two nieces. He played soccer. He went to college—”
He slammed his hand against the wall. His anger frightened me more than I wanted to admit. “Stop! Damn it, Cameron, I’m protecting you. How do you not understand that?”
Sure, maybe my heart should have fluttered romantically at his words, but it didn’t. I wanted to shake sense into him. I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. “And if he dies because of what we’ve done?”
Determined steps brought him closer to me, his face set in stern lines of seriousness and intent. “He’s not going to die.”
“If he does?”
He paused directly in front of me, his lips parted as if to argue. With a frustrated groan, he latched onto my upper arms and pulled me into his chest. He was so warm, so lovely and his scent so wonderful that for a moment I just sank into him.
“What does it matter?” he whispered.
I froze, horrified. Surely he didn’t mean he didn’t care if Maddox died. “You don’t mean that.”
He was silent for a moment. “We’d be safer with him gone.”
I shook my head, staring up at him, knowing I would ruin everything with my next words. But I couldn’t help myself and I couldn’t think with him touching me. I shoved my hands against his shoulders, pushing him out of the way. “How could you say that?”
He latched onto my arm, his grasp desperate. “You’ll walk out? Run away because it’s gotten complicated?”
I wanted to ignore my feelings, to pull Lewis close and forget everything that had happened. Instead, I tugged my arm away from him. “No, because what you’re doing is wrong, Lewis.”
“You know nothing—”
“What about George?”
He shook his head, looking confused.
“Did you send George to my town on purpose?”
“Do you even hear yourself? Do you realize what you’re saying? That’s insane, Cameron! How can you think that?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” I cried out. “Maddox said—”
He laughed, a harsh laugh. “And here we go again. You’ll believe a murderer over me.”
I didn’t respond, I wasn’t sure how to. He grew silent and there was something there behind his eyes, a sadness that tore at my heart. He knew, before I’d realized, what I was going to do.
“You want to leave,” he said softly.
Hot tears burned my eyes. “I can’t stay here, Lewis, not knowing what you’re doing. I can’t be apart of that.”
“And what about us?” his voice caught.
For one long moment, I couldn’t respond knowing if I answered him, it would be over; any relationship we had. But the truth just flowed from my mouth, unheeded. “How can there be an us? We don’t believe in the same things. You think it’s perfectly fine to torture a man, to imprison him like he’s an animal.”
He shook his head, obviously disappointed in me. My throat closed with tears and emotion.
“And you think it’s perfectly fine to release a person who will kill you without flinching,” he stated.
“You don’t know that.”
He laughed and looked away. “Then try. Leave, Cameron. Put yourself out there where anything can happen. Test that theory, but just remember I won’t be around to save you.”
His words annoyed and hurt me, at the same time they gave me strength. “I don’t need you to save me. I never did.”
Having the last word, I pushed past him and burst into the hall. Even though my heart was hammering with the need to escape, I refused to run. I didn’t even flinch when I heard his door slam shut. I couldn’t turn back now. If I returned to Lewis, I’d give in and beg him to forgive me. I couldn’t, because I knew deep down I was right. Sometimes being right sucked.
Halfway to my bedroom, my emotions got the better of me. I paused in the middle of the hall as tears stung my eyes and blurred my vision. I had to leave this place. I knew that now. I no longer felt safe. I no longer felt like I belonged. But go where? Back to Grandma?
Suddenly, I missed her. Missed our small kitchen, and the eggs and pancakes she forced me to eat every morning. I missed the fact that on week nights we’d watch reality T.V. and argue about who would win that rose. I missed my small bed that creaked every time I rolled over and the floorboards that were so cold I had to wear two pair of socks.
I had to leave. I had to leave Lewis.
I fell back against the hallway wall, my legs weak. Oh God, I had to leave Lewis. The sob that had been stuck in my throat for the past five minutes came out in a strangled sob.
“Psst,” someone whispered.
Startled, I managed to contain myself. Olivia peeked out of an open door a few feet down the hall. She waved me toward her. I stood there for a long moment, wondering what to do. What sage wisdom did she have tonight? I really didn’t have the energy to deal with her.
“I’m tired, I want to go to bed.” I turned toward my door, intent on ignoring her.
“I have to show you something.”
Damn if I didn’t pause and glance back. She was pulling at her hair in that way that made me want to cringe. I wanted to refuse, to leave her standing there, but when I looked in her eyes and saw the desperation, I found myself making my way toward her.
I’d never been in her bedroom and I admit I felt weird, like I shouldn’t be there. We weren’t exactly B.F.F.’s. The room was purple, the curtains white lace. A lamp glowed on a bedside table, offering a warmth to the area. It was completely girly, yet almost too young, like for a five year old. There was even a set of porcelain dolls on the bed. It was kin
d of creepy, but then I expected nothing less than to be creeped out by her.
“What is it?” I asked, eager to leave.
She hesitated, and drawing that lock of hair between her lips, she nibbled on it like corn on the cob. Just when I was about to leave, her eyes went wide like an animal cornered. She was scared. Whatever she was about to tell me, she shouldn’t.
I swallowed hard. “Olivia, what is it?”
She spun around, rushed to her bedside table. The drawer creaked as she pulled it open. This wasn’t the dour and blunt Olivia I’d come to know. This was a little girl, afraid of her own shadow. There was a soft rustling, as she searched through the drawer, her movements jerky and frantic. Curious and more than a little nervous, I stepped closer.
She turned, clutching a silver frame to her flat chest. “Here.” She shoved the picture at me. With no choice, I took it. A man, woman and a little girl with dark hair, stared back at me. A happy family, as photos often portray. Even though the child couldn’t have been older than five, I could tell she was Olivia.
I looked up at her. “Your parents?”
She nodded and snatched the picture from my hands. Of course there were a million questions I wanted to ask her, but before I could even open my mouth, she shoved the frame back into the drawer, hidden from prying eyes. When she faced me again, she looked odd, her eyes shining, her face flushed…almost excited or nervous, like there was something more she needed to share, something she shouldn’t.
“What happened to your parents?” I asked, warily. Were they, too, destroyed in the great epic battle? “Did…did they die when my father and Lewis’s parents died?”
She didn’t respond, merely took her hair between her lips. For one long moment, I stared at her while she stared at the floor. Something had happened, and I wasn’t leaving until she got the courage to tell me the truth. I was tired of the secrets, the lies.
I stepped closer to her, anger propelling me forward. “Damn it, Olivia, I need—”
“I want to show you something,” she whispered, looking up at me with anxious eyes. “Will you come with me?”