14
“Christ. Eva.” I ran frantic hands over her limp form, searching for injury as the driver hit the gas pedal hard and the limo lurched forward, slamming me back into the seat.
My wife lay deathly still across my lap, unresponsive to my desperate examination. No blood on her gown or skin. A pulse, hard and quick. Her chest lifting and falling with each breath.
Relief hit me so hard I felt dizzy. I pulled her up tight against me, cradling her close. “Thank God.”
Raúl barked orders into the mic at his wrist. The moment he shut up, I demanded, “What the fuck happened?”
He dropped his arm. “One of the photographers had a gun and opened fire. Clancy got him.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Monica Stanton went down.”
“What?” My slowing heartbeat lurched back into a pounding rhythm. I looked down at my wife as she slowly came to¸ her eyelids fluttering. “Jesus. How bad?”
He exhaled harshly. “I’m waiting for word. It didn’t look good. You grabbed Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Stanton moved into the way.”
Eva.
I held my wife tighter, running my hand over her hair as we sped through the city.
“What happened?”
Eva’s soft question as we turned the corner that led to the garage knotted my stomach. Raúl looked at me, his face grim. Only moments before he’d taken a call and met my gaze, confirming my worst fear with a shake of his head and a quietly voiced I’m sorry.
My wife’s mother was dead.
How was I supposed to tell Eva? And after I did, how could I keep her safe until we knew what the hell was going on?
In my jacket pocket, my phone buzzed constantly. Calls. Messages. I needed to get to them all, but my wife came first.
We pulled into the garage, driving past the guard in the glass cubicle. My foot tapped restlessly on the floorboard. I wanted out of the car. I needed my wife locked down.
“Gideon?” She clutched at my jacket. “What happened? I heard gunshots—”
“False alarm,” I said gruffly, my grip on her too tight. “A car backfired.”
“What? Really?” She blinked up at me, wincing as I pulled her even closer. “Oww.”
“I’m sorry.” I’d taken her down hard, unable to break the fall for her without exposing her to danger. It had been instinctual, an abrupt response to the urgency in Raúl’s voice. “I overreacted.”
“For real?” She tried to sit up. “I thought I heard multiple shots.”
“The death of a few cameras, maybe. A few people got startled, dropped their gear.”
The car slowed to a halt and Raúl leapt out, extending his hand to Eva to help her. She climbed out slowly and I was directly behind her, scooping her up into my arms the moment I straightened.
I strode to the garage elevator, waited while Raúl typed in the code. One of his team stood behind us, facing the other direction, his hand in his jacket on his gun as he surveilled.
Would he be enough if there was another shooter lying in wait?
“Hey, I can walk,” Eva said, still punchy, her arms around my shoulders. “And you need to answer your phone. That thing’s going crazy.”
“Give me a minute.” I stepped into the elevator. “You passed out. Scared the shit out of me.”
“I couldn’t breathe.”
Kissing her forehead, I apologized again. I wouldn’t feel safe until we stepped into our living room. I glanced at Raúl. “I’ll be out shortly.”
I took my wife directly to the bedroom, laying her down atop the comforter. Lucky barked in his crate, pawing at the door.
“That was so weird.” Eva shook her head. “Where’s my clutch? I want to call Mom. Did Clancy freak out, too?”
My gut knotted. I’d promised to never lie to my wife and I knew this lie was going to hurt her badly. Hurt us. But … God. How the fuck did I tell her? And if I did, how could I keep her home when she’d want to go out and see the truth for herself ?
Lucky’s plaintive whines only ratcheted up my anxiety.
“I think we left your purse in the car.” I brushed the hair back from her forehead, fighting the tremor that wanted to rack my entire body. “I’ll have someone get it and bring it up.”
“Okay. Can I use your phone for now?”
“Let’s get you settled first. Are you hurting? Bruised?” I shot a glare at Lucky, but that only made him paw the metal bars more furiously.
She poked at her hip and winced. “Maybe.”
“All right. We’ll take care of that.”
I went to the bathroom, pulling out my phone to turn it off. The screen was an endless scroll of missed calls and texts. I watched it go black, shoved it into my pants pocket, and then turned on the taps in the bathtub. Anyone I’d want to hear from could reach Raúl or Angus.
I tossed a handful of Epsom salts into the steaming water; I knew a bath was a risk considering how rare it was for me to not join Eva when she took one. Still, hot soaks relaxed her, made her calm. I suspected she took naps during the day to make up for the hours our sex life took out of the nights, but she was running a sleep deficit after the weekend.
If I could just get her to wind down and get in bed, she might drift off. It would buy me some time to figure out what had happened, what risk remained, talk to Dr. Petersen …
Fuck. And Victor. I had to call Eva’s dad. Get him on a flight to New York as soon as possible. Cary. He should be here, too. Once I had more facts and a support system for my wife, then I could tell her. Just a few hours. That was all I needed.
I struggled to ignore the sick fear that Eva wouldn’t forgive me for the delay.
She was letting Lucky out when I stepped back into the bedroom. A laugh escaped her at the puppy’s enthusiasm. The joyous sound, one I loved so much, pierced me like a knife in the chest.
Kissing Lucky’s head, she looked at me with bright eyes. “You should put him on his puppy pad. He’s been locked up awhile.”
“I’ll take him.”
She rubbed Lucky’s head before passing him over. “I hear a bath running.”
“A soak might do you good.”
“Limber me up?” she teased. The look in her eyes … It killed me. I almost told her, but I couldn’t get the words past the lump in my throat.
Instead, I turned away and headed down the hallway to the half bath off the living room, where Lucky’s patch of fake grass was. I set him down on it, ran my hands through my hair.
Think, damn it. God, I needed a drink.
Yes. A drink. Hard liquor.
I went to the kitchen, tried to think of something strong that Eva would actually drink. A digestif, maybe? The house phone. Shit. I went to turn off the ringer and saw that someone had already thought of it. Turning back around, I spotted the coffeemaker.
Something hot. Relaxing. No caffeine.
Tea. I went the pantry and searched, shoving around the items on the shelves looking for a box of tea Angus kept at the penthouse. Some herbal crap he said smoothed the rough edges. I found it and focused, filling a mug from the instant hot water tap. I dropped two tea bags into it, a liberal pour of rum, then a scoop of honey. I stirred, spilled onto the counter. More rum.
Tossing the tea bags into the sink, I headed back to my wife.
For an instant, when I didn’t find her in the bedroom, I panicked. Then I heard her in the closet and my breath left me in a rush. I set the mug down by the bath, turned the water off, and went to her. I found her sitting on the bench, taking off her shoes.
“The dress is ruined, I think,” she said, as she stood in her bare feet, showing me the tear along the left side.
“I’ll buy you another.”
She flashed me a big smile. “You’re spoiling me.”
It was fucking torture. Every second. Every lie I told. Every truth I left unsaid.
I was flayed by the love in her eyes. The utter trust. Sweat slid down my back. I yanked my jacket off and tossed it aside, clawing at my bow tie and collar until they both came apart and let me breathe.
“Help me out of this.” She turned her back to me.
I unfastened the gown and pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall to a puddle on the floor. Then I unhooked her bra, hearing her sigh with pleasure as its constriction eased.
Looking her over, I cursed silently at the bruise already shadowing her hip and the abrasions on her arm from the red carpet.
She yawned. “Wow. I’m tired.”
Thank God. “You should sleep, then.”
She shot me a heated look over her shoulder. “I’m not that tired.”
Jesus. Being gutted couldn’t hurt worse. I couldn’t touch her, make love to her … not with my deceit between us.
I swallowed hard. “All right, then. I’ve got to see to some business first. And get your purse. I made a hot toddy for you. It’s by the bathtub. Just relax and I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“Is everything all right?”
Unable to lie any more than I already had, I told her an irrelevant truth. “I’ve missed a lot of work this week. Some pressing things need to be dealt with.”
“Sorry. I know that’s my fault.” She kissed my jaw. “Love you, ace.”
Grabbing a robe off the hooks, she slid into it and walked out. I stood there, surrounded by the smell of her, my hands still tingling from the feel of her, my heart pounding with fear and self-loathing.
Lucky raced in so fast, he ricocheted off the door before barreling into my feet. I picked him up, rubbing the top of his head.
This was one nightmare he couldn’t wake me from.
Raúl waited in my home office, talking briskly on his phone. I joined him, closing the door behind me.
He ended the call and stood. “The police are on scene. The gunman’s in custody.”
“Monica?”
“They’re waiting for the medical examiner.”
I couldn’t imagine it. I went to my desk, sat heavily in the chair. My gaze went to the photos of Eva on the wall.
“The detectives have been told that you and Mrs. Cross will be here at home when it’s time to get your statements.”
I nodded, and prayed for them to wait until morning to make that house call.
“I took the phone off the hook in the kitchen when we arrived,” he said quietly.
“I noticed. Thank you.”
There was a knock at the door. Tensing, I expected Eva to walk in. I exhaled in relief when it was Angus instead.
“I’m going to head back,” Raúl said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“I need Eva’s purse from the car. And Cary. Get him here.”
He nodded and left.
Angus settled into the seat Raúl had just vacated. “I’m sorry, lad.”
“So am I.”
“I should’ve been there.”
“And have someone else I love in the line of fire?” I pushed to my feet, too restless to sit. “It’s a blessing you were at the Lucases’.”
He stared at me a moment, and then his gaze dropped to his hands.
It took me a second to realize what I’d said. Another to know that I hadn’t told him I loved him before now. I hoped he’d known anyway.
Taking a deep breath, his chin lifted and he looked at me again. “How’s Eva?”
“I have to check on her. She’s taking a bath.”
“Poor lass.”
“She doesn’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I haven’t told her.”
“Gideon.” His eyes were wide with the same dismay I felt. “You cannae—”
“What good would it do?” I snapped. “We don’t have answers. Her mother’s gone. I can’t have her going back to the scene and seeing … that. Why torture her or put her at risk? Christ, it could’ve been her! It could still be her if we don’t keep her safe.”
He watched me pace, with eyes that had seen—and still saw—too much.
“I’m going to make some calls.” I pulled out my phone. “I need to get a handle on the situation before I tell her. Try to cushion the blow as much as I can. She’s been through so much—” My voice broke. My eyes burned.
“What can I do to help?” he asked softly.
I pulled myself together. “I need a jet available for Eva’s father. I’m going to call him now.”
“I’ll see to it.” He stood.
“Give me a few minutes to break the news to him, then text him the info when you have it.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thank you.”
“Gideon … You should know my search of the Lucas residence was successful.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flash drive no bigger than a dime. “She kept this in a bedroom safe, buried beneath her jewelry in a box. She scanned all his notes.”
I looked at him blankly. Anne and Hugh were the least of my concerns at the moment.
“It’s all lies,” he continued. “He mentioned nothing of what really went on. What you may find of interest, when the time comes, is what he had to say about Christopher.”
Setting the drive on my desktop, Angus left the room.
I stared at it. Then I went to my desk, opened a drawer, and swept the drive into it with a brush of my hand.
Turning my phone back on, I saw that there were texts and voice mails from Cary, Magdalene, Clancy, Ireland, Chris …
Overwhelmed, I went to the home screen.
I pulled up Dr. Petersen’s office in my contacts and dialed. Going through the automated menu, I selected the after-hours emergency switchboard and told the answering operator that it was very much an emergency—a death was involved and the doctor needed to call me back as soon as he could.
The entire interaction was cold and clinical, especially for something so desperately personal. The grim process seemed like a terrible insult to the vibrantly beautiful wife and mother who was no longer with us. And yet I found myself wishing the next call I had to make could be accomplished with so little emotion.
As the line rang on the other end, I sank into my chair. The last time I’d talked to Victor had been the call I had placed from Rio de Janeiro, when I explained that the photo of me with two women was taken before I ever met his daughter. He had received that information with chilly reserve, letting me know without saying it that I wasn’t good enough for Eva. I couldn’t disagree. Now, I had to tell him that the other woman he cared for had been taken from him again—this time, forever.
Eva believed her father was still in love with her mother. If so, the news would level him. I could still taste the bile at the back of my throat and feel the icy panic that had blanked my mind in those first few moments after the shooting. There would be nothing for me without Eva.
“Reyes,” Victor answered, sounding cool and alert. There was noise in the background, traffic maybe. Distant music. I glanced at my watch, realized he might be on duty.
“It’s Cross. I need to tell you something. Are you alone?”
“I can be. What’s wrong?” he demanded, picking up on the gravity of my tone. “Has something happened to Eva?”
“No, it’s not Eva.” Just get it out. Blunt and quick. That’s how I’d want to be told that my life was over. “I’m sorry. Monica was killed tonight.”
There was a terrible pause. “What did you just say?”
My head fell back against the chair. He’d heard me the first time, I could tell by his voice. But he couldn’t believe it. “I’m very sorry, Victor. We don’t know much more than that at this time.”
From his side of the call, I heard a car door open, then slam shut. There was a brief spate of transmissions from a police scanner, then eerie quiet followed and stretched out for long minutes. Still, I knew he was there.
“It happened barely an hour ago,” I explained quietly, trying to bridge that silence. “We were all leaving an event. A gunman in the crowd opened fire.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But the shooter was apprehended. We should have more details soon.”
His voice strengthened. “Where’s my daughter?”
“She’s home with me. She won’t leave here until I’m certain it’s safe for her to do so. I’m making flight arrangements for you now. Eva will need you, Victor.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“She’s resting. You’ll get a text with the information for the flight as soon as it’s confirmed. It’ll be one of my jets. You can speak with her in the morning when you get here.”
Victor exhaled roughly. “All right. I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll see you shortly.”
Hanging up, I thought of the other man who was a father figure for Eva. I couldn’t think about what Stanton was going through; it shattered my mind. But I felt for him and was deeply sorry that anything I could offer would be inadequate.
Still, I reached out, typing a quick text. If I can be of service in any way, please let me know.
I left my office and went to the master bathroom. I paused on the threshold, everything inside me raw and aching at the sight of Eva stretched out in the steaming water with her eyes closed. Her hair was clipped up in a sexy, wild mess. The diamonds glittered on the counter. Lucky pawed at my shins.
“Hi,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “You take care of everything?”
“Not yet. Right now, I need to take care of you.” I went to her, saw the toddy was half gone. “You should finish your drink.”
Her eyes opened slowly, dreamy and soft. “It’s strong. I’ve got a buzz.”
“Good. Now drink the rest.”
She complied. Not out of obedience but in the way a woman with a hidden agenda pretended to follow an order: because it suited her.
“Are you coming in?” she asked, licking her lips.
I shook my head. She pouted.
“I’m done then.” She rose from the tub, rivulets of water sliding over her flushed curves. She gave me a seductive smile, knowing what she was doing to me. “Sure you won’t change your mind?”
My throat worked on a hard swallow. “I can’t.”
With weighted steps, I grabbed a towel and handed it to her. I turned away, tormented by the sight of her, and collected first-aid items, setting the tubes and packets on the counter.
She came to me, leaning into my side. “Are you okay? Still thinking about your mom?”
“What? No.” I groaned, my head bowed. “When you passed out … Fuck. I’ve never been so scared.”
“Gideon.” She slid into me, hugging me. “I’m okay.”
Sighing, I gave her a quick squeeze and let her go. It pained me too much to hold her, knowing what had been left unspoken. “Let me take a look and make sure.”
Lucky sat with his head to the side, watching me curiously as I inspected Eva’s arm. I cleaned it with an antibiotic wipe before smoothing ointment over the angry red scrape. I taped gauze over it to keep it protected. The livid bruise on her hip got a generous application of arnica, my fingers lightly swirling over the darkening skin until the gel was fully absorbed.
My touch and focus aroused her, despite my best efforts. Squeezing my eyes shut, I straightened. “Off to bed with you, Mrs. Cross.”
“Umm … yes, let’s go to bed.” Her hands went to my shoulders, her fingers running down the untied ends of my bow tie. “I like your collar open like this. Very sexy.”
“Angel … You’re shredding me.” I caught her hands. “I’ve still got some things to handle.”
“Okay. I’ll behave. For now.”
With her hand in mine, I led her into the bedroom. She protested when I pulled out a Cross Industries T-shirt and slipped it over her head.
“What about the diamonds?” she asked.
She might never wear them again after this night. Where the fuck was Dr. Petersen? I needed his help to say the right things in the right way when the time came.
My fingers brushed her cheek, the only touch I would allow myself. “This will be more comfortable for now.”
I tucked her into bed, smoothing her hair back from her cheeks. She was going to sleep believing her world still had her mother in it and that her husband would never lie to her.
“I love you.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, wanting those words to echo in her dreams.
It was all too possible that she wouldn’t believe them once she was awake.
Leaving Eva to rest, I shut the bedroom door and headed to the kitchen for a drink, something strong and smooth that might ease the cold knot in my gut.
I found Cary in the living room, sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Angus sat at the far end of the dining table, talking quietly on his phone.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked Cary, as I passed him.
His head came up and I saw the tears. The devastation. “Where’s Eva?”
“She’s trying to sleep. It’s best that she does.” I entered the kitchen, grabbed two tumblers and a bottle of scotch, and poured two hefty rations. I slid one over when he joined me at the island.
I tossed mine back, gulping down the contents. Closing my eyes, I felt the burn. “You’ll stay in the guest room.” My voice was roughened by the liquor’s bite. “She’s going to need you in the morning.”
“We’re going to need each other.”
I poured another glass for myself. “Victor’s coming.”
“Fuck.” Cary swiped at his damp eyes. “Stanton, man … He aged right in front of me. Like thirty years just ran through him while I was standing there.” He lifted his tumbler to his lips with a violently shaking hand.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, answering it even though I didn’t recognize the number. “Cross.”
“Gideon. It’s Dr. Petersen. I got your message.”
“Just a minute.” I pressed the phone to my chest and looked at Cary. “I have to take this.”
He waved me off, his gaze locked into the amber liquid in his glass.
I went to the bedroom and cracked open the door, relieved to find Eva fast asleep with the dog curled up next to her. Backing out, I shut myself in my office. “I’m sorry. I needed to step away for privacy.”
“That’s fine. What’s happened, Gideon?”
Sinking into my desk chair, I dropped my head into my hand. “It’s Eva’s mother. There was an incident tonight. She was killed.”
“Monica …” He took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”
I remembered then that Monica was—had been—a patient of Dr. Petersen, too. I relayed the same information I’d passed to Victor. “I need you to come to my home. I need your help. I don’t know how to tell Eva.”
“How to …? I’m sorry, Gideon. It’s late and I’m confused. I assumed she was with you when it happened.”
“She was right by my side, but I knocked her down to get her out of the way. Knocked the breath right out of her. She passed out and when she came to, I told her it was a false alarm.”
“Oh, Gideon.” He sighed heavily. “That wasn’t wise.”
“It was the right decision. There’s nothing she can do about what happened.”
“You can’t protect her from everything, and lying is never a solution.”
“I can protect her from being a target!” I surged to my feet, furious that his reaction and Angus’s reflected my worst fears about how Eva would respond to the choice I’d made. “Until I know what the threat is, I won’t have her out in the open, which is exactly where she’d want to be!”
“That’s her choice to make.”
“It would be the wrong one.”
“Regardless, it’s a decision she has a right to come to on her own.”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “Her safety is nonnegotiable. She worries about everyone else. It’s my job to worry about her.”
“You could tell her your concerns,” Dr. Petersen said, his voice low and soothing. “Explain them to her.”
“She wouldn’t put her safety first. She’d want to be with Stanton.”
“Being with others who share her grief can—”
“He’s standing over her mother’s corpse on a city sidewalk right now!”
The words and the image they evoked were vile. My stomach churned, revolting against the liquor I’d poured into it. But I needed someone to grasp the full extent of the horror and understand why I’d made my decision. To give me some hope that Eva would understand.
“Don’t tell me what would be best for her right now,” I said coldly. “I won’t let her go there. She would be haunted for the rest of her life if she saw … that.”
He was quiet. Then, “The longer you wait, the more difficult this will be for both of you.”
“I’m going to tell her as soon as she wakes up. You’re going to come over here and help me do that.”
“Gideon—”
“I’ve talked to her father in California. He’ll be on his way soon. And Cary’s here.” I paced. “They’ve got some time to deal with it, so when Eva sees them, they’ll be able to give her the support she needs. You’ll be able to help her, too.”
“You’re not seeing that Eva’s biggest source of strength and comfort is you, Gideon. And by failing to disclose something of this magnitude and being dishonest about it initially, you’ve put her most depended-upon foundation on shaky ground.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” I stopped in my tracks, directly in front of the photo collage of my wife. “I’m … Jesus. I’m terrified she won’t forgive me.”
Dr. Petersen’s silence allowed those words to hang in the air, mocking my helplessness.
I looked away from the images of my wife. “But I would do it again. This situation, these stakes …”
“All right. You’ll need to talk to her about all of this as soon as she wakes up. Be frank about what you’re feeling, and focus on that rather than logic or your rationale. She may not agree with you or see your point, but understanding the emotional impetus behind your actions will help.”
“Do you?” I challenged.
“I do, yes. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t have recommended a different course of action, but I understand. I’m going to give you another number where you can reach me directly.”
Grabbing a pen off my desk, I wrote it down.
“Talk to Eva. Afterward, if you still want me there, I’ll come by. I can’t promise to respond immediately,” he went on, “but I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and took a seat at my desk. There was nothing more for me to do but wait. Wait for Eva to wake up. Wait for the police. Wait for the visitors who would come and call, friends and family who would be as ineffectual as I was.
I woke my computer and sent an e-mail to Scott, telling him to clear my calendar for the rest of the week and to get in touch with the wedding planner. Informing her and others was most likely moot, considering the paparazzi were already there at the time of the shooting. There was no way to have even a single day of private grieving.
The thought of what had to have been posted online already filled me with helpless fury. Graphic crime-scene photos. Conspiracy theories and wild speculation. The world would be looking in our windows for months to come.
I pushed the thoughts aside.
I forced myself to think of the things that would alleviate Eva’s stress. I already had plans to talk to Victor, and we would discuss his family then, since they were scheduled to arrive on Friday.
My phone was in my hand before I realized it. I checked my missed calls and scrolled through my texts. There was nothing from my mother, although I had to think Chris or Ireland would have said something to her by this point. Her silence didn’t surprise me as much as the text from Christopher.
Please give my condolences to Eva.
I stared at the text for a long while, tapping the screen when it dimmed to keep it lit up and in front of me. It was the word please that struck me. Such an everyday courtesy, but not one Christopher used with me.
I thought of the people I’d called on Eva’s behalf. Cary, who was like a brother to her. Victor, her father. Who would Eva call if our situations were reversed? Chris? Certainly not my brother.
Why? All these years I’d wondered about that. Christopher could have meant much more to me, a link to the new family my mother had created.
Opening the drawer, I stared at the tiny flash drive that Angus had retrieved from the Lucases’ home. Did it hold the answer?
Would it matter now if it did?
The moment I dreaded came much too quickly. I lay on the bed with my eyes closed, feeling the bed shift as Eva turned over, hearing her soft sigh as she settled into the new position. She would drift back into sleep if I let her. I could give her a few more hours of peace.
But Victor’s flight was on the ground in New York. The police could arrive here at any moment. Reality was going to intrude no matter how badly I wanted to hold it at bay, which meant the time I had left to break the news to my wife was winding down.
I sat up and scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the burn of the stubble that shadowed my jaw. Then I touched her shoulder, rousing her as gently as I could.
“Hey.” She rolled toward me, her eyes slumberous. “You’re still dressed. Did you work all night?”
I stood and turned the bedside light on, unable to discuss the situation without being on my feet. “Eva. We need to talk.”
Blinking at me, she pushed up onto her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Splash some water on your face while I fix you a cup of coffee, okay? And wait here in the bedroom until I bring it to you.”
She frowned. “You sound serious.”
“I am. And you need to be awake.”
“Okay.” Tossing back the comforter, Eva got out of bed.
I grabbed Lucky and shut the bedroom door behind me, dropping him off in the bathroom before I fixed coffee for both me and Eva. New day, same routine. A few more minutes of pretending nothing had changed amounted to a different kind of lie.
When I returned to the bedroom, I found Eva pulling on a pair of pajama pants. She’d pulled her hair back in a short ponytail and there was a spot of toothpaste on her T-shirt. Normal. For the moment, she was the wife I loved beyond all reason.
She took the mug from me and breathed in the aroma, her eyes closing in pure pleasure. It was so like her, so very Eva, that my chest hurt.
I set my coffee aside, my stomach suddenly too knotted to contemplate putting anything into it. “Sit in that chair over there, angel.”
“You’re starting to freak me out.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I touched her cheek. “I don’t mean to drag this out. If you sit down, I’ll explain.”
Eva settled into the reading chair beneath the arched windows. The sky was turning from night to bluish gray. I turned on the light beside her, then grabbed the other chair and placed it in front of her. Holding out my hand for hers, I sat, squeezing her fingers gently.
I took a deep breath. “I lied to you. I’m going to defend that decision when I’m done, but for now …”
Her gaze narrowed. “Spit it out, ace.”
“You were right about the gunshots you heard. One of the photographers opened fire on us last night. Your mother was hit.” I paused, struggled to say the words. “She didn’t make it.”
Eva stared at me, her eyes big and dark in her suddenly pale face. Her hand was trembling violently when she put her coffee on the end table. “What are you saying?”
“She was shot, Eva.” I tightened my grip on her abruptly cold hands, sensing her panic. “It was fatal. I’m sorry.”
Her breathing picked up.
“I don’t have any answers to give you right now. They have the shooter in custody and Raúl has told me that Detectives Graves and Michna were assigned to the case.”
“They’re homicide cops,” she said, her voice flat.
“Yes.” They’d been the ones to investigate Nathan Barker’s death. I knew them better than I wished.
“Why would someone want to kill my mother?”
“I don’t know, Eva. It might have been random. Could be he missed his target. We could call Graves or Michna—you still have their cards, right? They might not tell us anything, but I’m expecting them to come by and take our statements.”
“Why? I don’t know anything.”
The fear I’d been fighting all night swamped me. I’d expected anger and tears. A violent explosion of emotion. Instead, she seemed disoriented. Almost lifeless.
“Angel.” I released one of her hands to cup her face. “Cary’s here, in the guest room. Your father is en route from the airport. He’ll be here soon.”
“Dad.” A lone tear slid down her face. “Does he know?”
“Yes. I told him. Cary knows, too. He was there.”
“I need to talk to him. She was like a mother to Cary.”
“Eva.” I slid to the end of my seat and gripped her shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about anyone else right now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked at me blankly. “Why lie to me?”
I started to explain, then hesitated. Finally, “To protect you.”
Her gaze left my face, drifted off to the side. “I think I knew something bad happened. I think that’s why I’m not surprised. But when we left … Was she …?”
“She was already gone, Eva. I won’t lie to you again—I didn’t know whether anyone had been hit when I got you out of there. The most important thing was to get you somewhere safe. After that—”
“Never mind.”
My chest expanded, my lungs shuddered. “There was nothing you could do.”
“It doesn’t matter now anyway.”
“You’re in shock, Eva. Look at me.” When she didn’t, I scooped her up and pulled her onto my lap. Her entire body was cold. I hugged her close, trying to warm her, and she shivered.
Standing, I took her to the bed and yanked the comforter back. I sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled the blankets around us, covering her from the shoulders down. Then I rocked her, my lips pressed to her forehead.
“I’m so sorry, angel. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
She didn’t answer me and she didn’t cry.
“Have you slept at all?” Chris asked softly. “Maybe you should lie down for an hour or so.”
I looked across my desk, startled to see my stepfather standing in front of me. I hadn’t heard him come in, my thoughts somewhere else as I stared sightlessly out the window.
Victor and Cary were in the living room with Eva, the two men barely able to talk, stunned with grief. Angus was somewhere in the building, working with the lobby staff to manage the throng of photographers and reporters camped outside the main entrance.
“Did you speak to Eva?” I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Her father and Cary are wrecks, and she’s …”
Christ. What was she? I hadn’t a clue. She seemed … detached. As if she weren’t connected at all with the anguish and powerless anger pouring from two people she loved deeply.
“She’s numb.” He took a seat. “It will hit her, eventually. For now, she’s dealing with it the only way she knows how.”
“ ‘Eventually’ isn’t quantifiable! I just need to know when … how … what to do.”
“That’s why you need to take care of yourself, Gideon.” His soft gaze searched my face. “So you can be strong for her when she needs you to be.”
“She won’t let me comfort her. She’s too busy worrying about everyone else.”
“It’s a distraction, I’m sure,” he said quietly. “Something to focus on besides her own loss. And if you’ll take my advice, right now you need to focus on you. It’s obvious you’ve been up all night.”
I gave a humorless laugh. “What gave me away? The tux?”
“The bloodshot eyes, the morning stubble. You don’t look like the husband Eva counts on to keep it together and do everything he can.”
“Damn it.” I stood. “It just seems … wrong to act like nothing happened.”
“That’s not what I meant. But life has to go on. And for Eva—that’s going to happen with you. So be you. Right now, you look as shaky as they do out there.”
I was. The fact that Eva wasn’t turning to me for comfort … It was everything I had been afraid of.
But I knew he was right. If I didn’t look like I could support her, how could I expect her to lean on me?
Chris rose to his feet. “I’ll make a pot of coffee while you’re in the shower. I brought food, by the way. Some pastries and sandwiches from a bakery your brother recommended. It’ll be lunchtime soon.”
I couldn’t imagine eating anything, but it was thoughtful of him. “Thank you.”
He walked with me to the door. “I’m staying in the city now, as you know. Christopher is going to manage things at work for the next few days so I can help you out here. If you need anything—at any time, doesn’t matter—just call me.”
I halted. My chest was too tight. I fought for every breath.
“Gideon.” Chris put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re both going to get through this. You have family and friends looking—”
“What family?”
His arm fell to his side.
“No, don’t,” I said, hating that he’d pulled away. Hating that I’d put that look of hurt on his face. “Look, I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t expect it, but I’m glad ….”
He pulled me into a firm embrace. “Then learn to expect it,” he said gruffly. “Because I’m not backing off this time, Gideon. We’re family. Maybe now we can start to think about what that means to all of us. You and me. Your mother, Christopher, and Ireland.”
Head bowed against his shoulder, I fought for some measure of composure. I was tired. Weary to my bones. My brain wasn’t processing anything well. That had to be why I felt … Fuck. I didn’t know what I felt.
Eva’s father and Cary were devastated. Stanton … I couldn’t even begin to imagine how shattered he must be. Whatever I was feeling didn’t matter much in comparison.
Stressed, my mind straying, I spoke without thinking. “Christopher would need a complete personality transplant to ever be family to me.”
Chris stiffened and pulled away. “I know you and Christopher don’t get along, but—”
“Through no fault of mine. Let’s be clear about that.” I tried to fight the question, tried to swallow it back unsaid. “Has he ever discussed with you why he hates me?”
For fuck’s sake. Why? Why did I have to ask? It shouldn’t matter. Not after all these damn years.
Chris pulled away, shaking his head. “He doesn’t hate you, Gideon.”
I straightened, willing myself not to shake—from exhaustion or emotion, I couldn’t tell. The past was behind me. I’d left it back there, shoved in a box where it belonged. I had Eva now—
Damn it. I hoped I still had Eva.
My wife had never pushed me to deal with Christopher, as she had with the rest of my family. My brother had gone too far in her eyes, used Magdalene too callously, which Cary had caught on video. Maybe Eva wouldn’t care if I resolved my relationship with Christopher ….
But maybe she’d be proud of me for trying.
And if she was, if it proved to her that I was different, that I’d changed in the way she needed me to … Son of a bitch. I had just backtracked on all the progress we’d made by not telling her about Monica’s death the moment I knew. If mending things with my family now would somehow help her forgive me for the lie I’d told, then it was worth whatever it cost me to make the effort.
I forced my hands to relax. When I spoke, my voice was low and even. “I need to show you something.”
I gestured for my stepfather to sit at my desk. When he slid the chair forward, I shook the mouse to wake the monitor. Hugh’s handwritten notes filled the screen.
Chris’s eyes darted from side to side, quickly reading. I knew the moment he understood what he was looking at. His spine stiffened.
“I don’t know how much of this is true,” I cautioned. “Hugh’s notes about his sessions with me are all lies. This reads like he was building a profile of me to use as a defense, in case we ever filed charges against him.”
“We should have.” The words were bitten out between clenched teeth. “How did you get these?”
“It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he has notes from four different sessions with Christopher. One of them was supposedly a group session with me. Either that’s a fabrication or I’ve forgotten.”
“Which do you think it is?”
“I really can’t say. There are … chunks of my childhood I can’t remember.” I recalled more in dreams than I did when awake.
Chris swiveled in the chair to look at me. “Do you think he molested your brother?”
It took a beat for me to shove the memories away and respond. “I don’t know—you’ll have to ask Christopher—but I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“The dates and times on Hugh’s notes put Christopher’s sessions directly following mine. If those time stamps are correct—which would be wise if he was covering his tracks—then he wouldn’t have it in him.” My arms crossed. Trying to explain brought back all the bitterness. And loathing—for both Hugh and myself. “He was a sick piece of shit, but—listen, there’s no tidy way to say this. He never had anything left after he was done with me.”
“My God … Gideon.”
I turned my gaze away from the shock and simmering fury in his eyes. “Hugh told Christopher he was seeing me because you and Mom were afraid I would kill him.”
Thinking of the other people in the penthouse was the only thing that restrained me from punching a wall. God knew I’d lashed out with my fists more than once as a kid.
Remembering what I could of that time, I could see how easily Hugh’s brainwashing might have taken root in the mind of a small boy whose older brother frequently had fits of rage and destruction.
“Christopher wouldn’t believe that,” he asserted.
My shoulders lifted in a weary shrug. “Christopher told me once, recently, that I’d wanted him dead since the day he was born. I had no idea what he was talking about, but now …”
“Let me read,” he said grimly, turning back to the monitor. “Go take that shower. We’ll have some coffee when you get out. Or something stronger.”
I started to leave the room but paused before I opened the door. Looking back at Chris, I saw him focused tautly on the words in front of him. “You didn’t know Hugh like I did,” I told him. “How he could twist things around … make you believe things …”
Chris’s gaze came up and held mine. “You don’t have to convince me, Gideon. Your word is enough.”
I glanced away quickly. Did he have any clue what those four words meant to me? I couldn’t tell him; my throat was too raw.
With a nod, I left him.
It took longer than it should have to put some goddamned clothes on. I chose with Eva in mind. The gray slacks she loved. A black V-neck T-shirt. Done.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Angus filled the frame. “The detectives are on their way up.”
“All right.” I walked with him down the hall to the living room.
My wife sat on the couch, bundled in sweatpants and a baggy sweater with socks on her feet. Her head rested on Victor’s shoulder, his cheek against the crown of her head. Her fingers stroked through Cary’s hair as he sat on a pillow by her knee. Couldn’t get more connected than that. The television was on, tuned to a movie none of them were watching.
“Eva.”
Her gaze slid slowly over to me.
I held out my hand to her. “The police are here.”
Victor straightened, jarring my wife into sitting up. A brisk rap on the foyer door had everyone on alert.
Stepping closer to the couch, I kept my arm extended. Eva slowly disentangled herself and stood, her face still far too pale. She put her hand in mine and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I pulled her close, draping my arm over her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you,” I said softly, walking her toward the door.
Her arms came around my waist and she leaned into me. “I know.”
I turned the knob. “Detectives. Please, come in.”
Graves entered first, her sharp blue eyes going immediately to Eva. Michna followed, his height advantage over his partner allowing him to lock eyes with me.
He gave me a brisk nod. “Mr. Cross.”
Eva stepped away from me as I closed the door.
“We’re very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Cross,” Graves said, in that way cops had that told you they said those words too often.
“You may remember Eva’s father, Victor Reyes,” I said. “And the tall Scotsman over there is Angus McLeod.”
The detectives both nodded, but Graves took the lead, as usual. “Detective Shelley Graves and my partner, Detective Richard Michna.” She looked at Cary, whom she’d spoken with just hours before. “Mr. Taylor.”
I gestured toward the dining table. “Let’s have a seat.”
My wife smoothed her hair back with unsteady hands. “Can I get you both some coffee? Or water?”
“Coffee would be great,” Michna said, pulling out a chair for himself.
“I’ll get it,” Chris interjected, entering the room from the hallway. “Hello. I’m Gideon’s stepfather, Chris Vidal.”
Acknowledged by the detectives, he passed through to the kitchen.
Graves took the seat beside her partner, setting a battered leather satchel on the table at her elbow. Where she was reed thin, he was portly. Her hair was brown and curly, held back in a ponytail as severe as her foxlike face. Michna’s hair was both graying and thinning, bringing more focus to his dark eyes and rugged features.
Graves eyed me as I pulled a chair out for my wife. I met her look and held it, seeing the dark knowledge of my crime. In return, I let her see my resolve. Yes, I’d done some immoral deeds for the sake of protecting my wife. I owned those decisions, even the ones I’d take to my grave.
I sat next to Eva, pulling my chair close and taking her hand in my own. Victor settled on the other side, with Cary beside him. Angus stood behind me.
“Can you both run through your evening, starting with when you arrived at the event?” Michna asked.
I went first, painfully aware of Eva’s attention to every word I said. Only the last few moments were lost to her, but I knew those minutes were vital.
“You didn’t see the shooter?” Grave pressed.
“No. I heard Raúl shout and I got Eva on the ground. It’s protocol for the security team to evacuate at the first sign of trouble. They escorted us away in the opposite direction and I didn’t look back. My focus was on my wife, who was unconscious at the time.”
“You didn’t see Monica Stanton go down?”
Eva’s hand tightened on mine. I shook my head. “No. I had no idea anyone had been injured until several minutes after we left the scene.”
Michna looked at Eva. “At what point did you lose consciousness, Mrs. Cross?”
She licked lips that were starting to crack. “I hit the sidewalk pretty hard. Gideon rolled over me, holding me down. I couldn’t breathe, and then someone covered Gideon. They were both so heavy … I thought I heard two, maybe three shots. I’m not sure. When I came to, I was in the limo.”
“Okay.” Michna nodded. “Thank you.”
Graves unzipped the satchel and pulled out a file folder. Opening it, she pulled out a mug shot and set it on the table facing us. “Do either of you recognize this man?”
I bent closer. Blond with green eyes. A trimmed beard. Average looking.
“Aye,” Angus said, drawing my head around to look at him. “He’s the chap we ran off in Westport, the one who was taking pictures.”
“We’re going to need a statement from you, Mr. McLeod,” Michna advised.
“Of course.” He straightened, his arms crossing. “He’s the one who shot Mrs. Stanton?”
“Yes. His name is Roland Tyler Hall. Have you ever had contact with this man, Mr. Cross? Ever recall speaking with him?”
“No,” I replied, searching my memory and coming up blank.
Eva leaned forward. “Was he stalking her? Some kind of obsession?”
Her questions were softly voiced, her muted grief edged with an icy fury. It was the first spark I’d seen in her since I broke the news. And it came at the moment that I remembered what else I was keeping from her: her mother’s shadowy past. A tangled history that could be the reason Monica was dead now.
Graves began sliding out images, starting with the Westport photos. “It’s not your mother Hall was fixated on.”
What? The dread I felt reversed back into the fear that had plagued me all night.
There were so many images, it was hard to focus on any single one. Numerous pictures taken of us outside the Crossfire. Some from events, which looked like standard paparazzi shots. Others caught us out on the town.
Eva reached for the corner of one and slid it out, gasping at the image of me dipping her into a passionate kiss on a crowded city sidewalk outside a CrossTrainer gym.
The photo had been the first of us to go viral. I had responded to press inquiries with the confirmation that she was the significant woman in my life, and she’d opened up to me about Nathan and her past.
There was another widely seen image of us, capturing us arguing in Bryant Park. Another picture of us in the park on a different day showed us embracing. I hadn’t seen that one before.
“He didn’t sell all of these,” I said.
Graves shook her head. “Most of the photos Hall took for himself. When money ran low, he’d sell a few. He hasn’t worked in months and lives out of his car.”
Sliding the top layer of pictures around to expose the ones underneath, I realized that many of the times Eva and I had spotted a photographer, it had been Hall holding the camera.
I sat back, releasing Eva’s hand to put my arm around her and pull her close. Hall had been so near to my wife, and we hadn’t even known it.
“Let me see those,” Victor said.
I pushed them down the table, the top layer sliding over first. The images left behind had me straightening in my chair. I pulled out the highly publicized picture of Magdalene and me that helped trigger the infamous fight with Eva in Bryant Park. And another of me and Corinne at the Kingsman Vodka party.
My breathing quickened. I released Eva, sliding to the edge of my chair to sift through the images with both hands.
Cary leaned forward to look over Victor’s shoulder. “Was this guy just a really bad shot? Or did he confuse Monica for Eva?”
“He wasn’t stalking Eva,” I said tightly, the horrific realization sinking in. I pulled out the photo from the nightclub of me and two women. Taken in May, it preceded Eva’s arrival in New York.
Graves met my questioning gaze with a nod. “Hall is obsessed with you.”
Which meant I hadn’t just hidden what I knew of Monica’s life, I was also indirectly responsible for her death.