Three Years Later

The pristine blue water that I can see from my kitchen window gladdens my heart, as does the sound of my three children playing in the next room. Everything is as it should be. We are safe. No one is looking for us because no one knows we exist.

I should feel free.

Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that all is not as it seems.

“Morning, sugar.” Xander kisses the top of my head as he strides into the kitchen. He makes quick work of getting himself a cup of coffee and some toast. I lean against the sink and watch him, the love I have for him making my heart expand in my chest.

He’s my hero. Not that he would agree.

While I created the plan to save us, he was the one took it and ran with it. The revenge he manufactured was bigger and better than what I had in store for them.

I wanted their deaths.

I wanted them to rot in Hell for eternity.

Xander saved their lives, but brought eternal damnation to them in the process. Death would have been easy. Living to see their power and wealth stripped away, and having their freedom taken away was a much bigger punishment.

When my husband finishes his first piece of toast, he leans over and flicks the switch on the small TV that sits on the breakfast island. Kids cartoons erupt across the screen. He groans and changes the channel. I pour myself a cup of coffee and settle onto one of the bar stools next to him. Leaning over, I plant a kiss of his lips, and swipe a piece of his toast. Xander mounts a protest at my thievery, but I simply giggle at him.

It’s fake outrage. We both know he always cooks an extra piece for me.

I reward his protest with another kiss, this one involving tongues and roaming hands. All the while, trying to push away the feeling of foreboding that’s been trying to overwhelm me recently.

I have everything a woman could possibly need.

Three beautiful children.

A home on an island where the St. George name means nothing.

And, a man who loves me so much that he would kill for me.

Literally.

The “Breaking News” banner floats across the bottom of the television and the picture changes. Familiar faces fill the screen. The remainder of my piece of toast falls from my hand, and I clap my hand over my mouth to stop from screaming.

Xander rubs his hand up and down my back. “Hush, sugar. It’s not what you think. This is good.”

I point at the screen. Pictures of the house that I shared with Jax are being shown. Old photos of JJ and Charlie float across the screen. Then, an image of me in a wedding dress appears.

“How is this good?”

Xander points the remote at the TV unit and turns the volume up.

“We’ve received news today that further charges will be laid against Malcolm and Cynthia St. George, and Henry and Elizabeth Ray. This time for the murder of their children, Dr. Jaxon Ray and wife, Amber St. George, as well as their two young sons.”

Old footage of the trials appears on the TV. Visions of my mother and father as they learn of their guilty verdict. Still images of the Ray’s as they’re sentenced to thirty years in prison. Then, they cut to a recap of the Centrifuge scandal. The newsreader summarises the dangers of the drug and how they were covered up, so it could be rushed to market. I can’t look away. Not even when an old family portrait of me and Jax and the boys’ flashes onto the screen.

“It appears that they were murdered three years ago to keep them quiet. It is alleged that Jaxon Ray and his wife discovered the true side effects of Centrifuge and threatened to go public. It had long been suspected that their disappearance related to their parents’ scandal, however today, the authorities were able to find the proof they needed to prosecute. As this state is one of five that still upholds the death penalty, all four of the accused are facing lethal injection if found guilty.”

Pieces of a jigsaw puzzle begin to fall into place.

Xander walking outside to take phone calls in the middle of dinner.

His urgent business trip that was never adequately explained.

I turn to him and wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Xander appears genuinely perplexed.

I point at the television that’s now moved onto the next juicy story.

“This was you, wasn’t it?”

He kisses me, then adjusts his tie. “No. Maybe. A little. It was mainly Harry. He phoned to say that your father’s investigators were sniffing a bit close to home. We had to remove the threat.”

Xander acts like it’s nothing. But, we both know he’s granted us another miracle.

He grabs his briefcase, kisses me again, then heads into the next room to say bye to the kids.

“Love you, sugar,” my husband drawls when he returns.

I grab the lapels of his suit jacket, and step onto my tip toes. After planting another thankful kiss on his lips, I echo his sentiment. “I love you, too.”

He heads for the garage door and pauses with his hand on the handle. I watch as I do every morning—with a mixture of fascination and a small tinge of fear—as his shoulders straighten and he manages to hold himself even taller. A darkness takes hold of him. It changes his aura and forecasts a predilection toward evil.

Xander turns the handle and heads off to work. What my husband, the former school teacher now does as a profession is a mystery to me. I don’t pry, and he’s never offered an explanation. All I know is it gives him the power to protect us from anything that may come our way.

And, that is good enough for me.