CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kolan
“Fuck!” I slam my fist into the heavy bag, relishing in the pain that shoots up my arm, but it does nothing to clench the fire in my chest. My jaw locks as I think about her eyes that were filled with tears before she ran out of here.
I’m the biggest asshole and I know it. I’m pissed about my truck, pissed about the gym, but even more pissed for letting her own me. That night I spent holding her, touching her, listening to the sounds of her pleasure, I completely lost myself to her. Something I’ve always sworn to never do. Every day that passed without talking to her wreaked fucking havoc on me. I took my bad mood out on her when what I really wanted to do was kiss the hell out of her the moment she walked into the gym, and that just pissed me off even more. But now, I don’t feel anger, only guilt.
“Shit.” I go grab my keys from the office, hoping I can catch her in time, but know it’s not likely since she doesn’t live far. She’s probably already home.
After locking up the gym behind me, I climb into my rental truck, fury igniting in my veins all over again at the reminder of what happened to mine. Yesterday morning, I had walked out of my house to find my SUV destroyed, then found out the gym was in similar condition, every window smashed in. Cops think it was kids but I know better. It was personal, and I have no doubt that it was fucking Cortez.
The bastard sealed his fate.
When I turn down main street, something catches my eye in one of the store windows. Impulsively, I make a hard right, cutting off the guy behind me, then screech to a stop as I park in front of the shop. I exit the truck just as the store clerk flips the open sign to closed.
“No, wait!” My feet pound the concrete as I charge up to the door, but the old lady quickly switches the lock in place, her eyes wide with fear. I take a nonthreatening step back and point at the window. “I need to buy that.”
She glances at the item then back to me, her gaze shifting nervously as she tries to see if there is anyone else out here with me. There isn’t.
“Please, it’s for a friend.” When all she does is stare at me, I try another tactic. “I’ll pay you triple for it.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not gonna rob me?”
I refrain from rolling my eyes like a fucking chick.
What robber asks to buy something?
“I don’t want to rob you, lady. I just want to buy what’s in the window.”
It’s clear she doesn’t believe me and isn’t going to. With a frustrated breath, I head back to my truck when I hear the lock unlatch. I spin around but she slams the door closed and points at me through the glass. “I’m warning you, mister, I have a gun and know how to use it. Try anything funny and I’ll blow you to smithereens, got it?”
In other circumstances the threat would amuse me, but right now there’s nothing funny about my situation. I just want to get to Lia. “How about I pass you my credit card and wait here? You can ring it up and bring it back for me to sign.”
She thinks about it but ends up shaking her head and opens the door. “No, it’s all right, you can come in.”
I make sure to enter slowly and keep my distance from her as she grabs the item from the window. The last thing I want to do is cause her to have a heart attack. With my fucking luck it would happen. I don’t come any closer until I need to hand her my credit card. She stares down at my name for a long moment before swiping it.
“Sorry about earlier. I’m fairly new here and don’t know many people. You’re also a big fella and a little intimidating.”
It’s a good thing she doesn’t know who I am, because then she really wouldn’t have opened the door.
“It’s fine. You’re right to be cautious.”
“That’s what my grandson always tells me.” She slowly begins wrapping the gift in pink paper. I glance down at my watch, wishing she would move a little faster. “For someone special?”
“Yeah…” Lia is so much more than that, but I don’t think there are any words to describe how special she is.
“Well, it’s a good choice. A beautiful color for summer,” she comments, putting the gift in a bag. “I was actually just telling my grandson the other day about this one and told him he should buy it for his girlfriend. She loves scarves,” she adds with a smile.
I nod, not really giving a shit but don’t want to be rude.
When she finally hands me the bag, I try to take it but she doesn’t let go. “Now, tell her to wash it in cold water and hang to dry.”
“Okay, thanks.” I turn to leave but her fingers keep a tight grip.
“And maybe tell her to add a wee bit of baking soda. It’s something my mother always taught me. It helps keep the color bright and rich.”
With a nod, I try to leave again. Only she still won’t fucking let go.
“And tell her if she likes this, we have more colors coming in next week. Even a beautiful sunshine yellow and…”
I reach for patience as she rambles, trying to figure out how to get the hell out of here without being an asshole. When she finishes telling me about all the fucking colors coming in, I pull a little harder, prying the gift from her fingers and move for the door in a hurry. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome, young man, come back anytime,” she calls out.
Probably not, but I give her a brief wave as I head out of the store. When I reach Lia’s place a few minutes later, I walk up her front steps, feeling my palms sweat like a goddamn teenager. After a few raps on the door, I wait for her to answer and hear the light sound of footsteps then…nothing.
“Lia, open up.”
“Go away, Kolan.”
My guilt escalates at the sadness in her voice. “Please open the door. I need to see you.”
“Well, I don’t want to see you.”
“Just give me a minute. That’s all I’m asking for. Then I promise to leave if that’s what you want.”
There’s a long stretch of silence before she unlocks the door and swings it open. Pain infiltrates my chest at the sight of her red puffy eyes and wounded expression. I get the urge to pull her against me but know it won’t be welcomed.
Her chin lifts stubbornly, arms crossing over her chest. “What do you want?”
“To tell you how sorry I am.”
“You should be. You were an asshole.”
“I know.”
She presses her lips together, trying to rein in her emotions but a tear manages to slip free. Unable to hold back a second longer, I pull her against me, engulfing her slender body in my arms.
“You really hurt me,” she cries.
Jesus, I didn’t think I could feel worse than I already did, but I was so wrong. “I know, and you’ll never know how sorry I am for it. It’s been a shitty few days, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
Eventually, she returns my embrace, giving me a spark of hope that she might accept my apology.
Cupping her face, I bring her sad eyes to mine. “Do you forgive me?”
She nods. “Yeah. Just don’t do that to me again.”
“Never. I promise.” I repress the urge to drop a kiss on her pretty lips, and decide now would be a good time to give her the gift. “Here.”
She wipes the remainder of her tears before accepting it. “What’s this for?”
“It was my backup plan if you didn’t accept my apology.”
I’m rewarded with a small smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
“Do you want to come in for a little while?” she asks, shifting nervously on her feet. “I was just about to have my evening tea.”
“Yeah, sure.”
She closes the door then leads me into the small living room. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thanks, I’m good.” I take a seat on the couch and wait for her to join me. She ends up sitting on the other end, much too far away for my liking.
Silence fills the air as she pulls the gift from the bag and begins opening the pink paper, unveiling the aqua blue scarf. The soft material drapes in her hands as she stares down at it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Only because you’ll be wearing it.” She remains quiet, and I know it’s because she doesn’t believe me, not after what I said. “Look, Lia, I didn’t mean what I said back at the gym. With the scarf or without—you’re perfect.”
“But you were right, I am hiding,” she chokes out, tears flooding her eyes again. “I have to or he’ll kill me.”
Those terrified words put me in motion. Grabbing ahold of her shoulders, I search her gaze. “Who? Who is he?”
She lets go of a broken sob, shredding my fucking insides.
“Tell me, Lia, so I can help you.”
“Sophie,” she whispers.
My brows draw in confusion, thinking I misheard her. “What?”
“My name is Sophie Parish, not Lia Kay.”
Shock slams into me, her admission rocking me to my core. I knew she was hiding shit, but her name? Her identity?
“Please don’t be angry with me,” she pleads.
I shake my head, reeling from the information. “I’m not angry, baby. I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.”
“I’ll tell you everything if you want to know. But be prepared, it’s a long story. An ugly one at that.”
“I have all night. I’m not going anywhere.”
Taking a breath, she sinks back into the couch with her body turned toward me. “His name is Daniel Wheeler,” she starts quietly. “I met him the first week of my senior year in high school. He had just transferred from San Francisco and became the kid everyone ridiculed. I stepped in one day to help him when he was being bullied by a few of the football guys, and it turned out to be the biggest mistake I would ever make.”
By the fear in her words, I realize this is going to be worse than any scenario I’ve conjured up until this point.
“It started with anonymous love poems being left in my locker then escalated to flowers and gifts. I knew it was Daniel, and I felt bad that I didn’t return his feelings, especially when I knew he was having a hard time fitting in. So, at first I ignored them, because I didn’t want to embarrass him or make him feel bad. But it only got worse and the gifts became more elaborate, so I had no choice but to confront him. I was as kind as I could be about it and told him that we could be friends but that was it. His reaction was…odd, to say the least. He never said a word the entire time. Never denied or confirmed it was him. He just stared at me with this distant look in his eyes.”
She pauses, lost in the memory.
“Everything stopped, even his smiles and waves, so I thought that was the end of it. But then he began showing up wherever I went. Whether it was the grocery store with my mom or the movies with my friends, he was always there—watching me. He never approached me or said anything, but I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. There were even times I could have sworn I felt him watching me, but I couldn’t see him. I thought I was going crazy.”
Her gaze falls to her lap with a long exhale.
“One night he showed up at the mall while I was shopping with friends, and I decided it was time to confront him once more. I told him he was making me uncomfortable and he needed to stop following me. Again, he never said anything, but the distant look in his eyes turned into something more—something indescribable. It terrified me. Then…later that evening when I arrived home,” she continues quietly, “I had taken a shower and walked into my room in a towel. As I was changing, I heard a noise from my window. It was him…watching me.”
I tense, anger fueling inside of me like a desert storm.
“I became frozen to my spot, completely imprisoned by fear. All I could do was scream. My father came barreling in, but by the time he opened my window, Daniel was already running down the street. That night, I told my parents everything and my dad called the police. After taking my statement they went onto the roof to see if they could find any evidence.” She swallows thickly, disgust twisting her perfect face into deep pain. “There were traces of semen, some that had been there for quite a while. He had been watching me for months.”
Even though I had guessed as much, fury still ignites my blood like an inferno. Her tears fall harder this time, and I get the urge to comfort her, to erase her pain. Instead, I give her space and time to finish because I have a feeling it’s far from over.
“When the police went and questioned him, he told them that we were in love. Said that we had been dating since the first week of school. He even showed them a photo album he had of us. There were pictures taken of me when I was unaware; eating in the cafeteria, shopping, dancing…then he had cut out ones of himself and molded them together to make us look like a couple.”
“Jesus,” I breathe out, trying to wrap my head around this crazy fucker.
Her eyes meet mine, fear pinching her expression. “The most terrifying part is he believed it. He really thought we were dating. He was completely delusional. My father put a restraining order on him and the police warned him to stay away from me or he would go to prison. He wasn’t even allowed to attend school anymore. Not like it mattered though, the damage had been done. My entire senior year was ruined. I was scared to walk anywhere alone, too scared to even dress in the privacy of my own room. I went to school, then dance, and came home.”
Unrelenting fury pumps through me as I think about all she lost because of the sick fucker.
“The day came when he broke that restraining order, just like I knew he would. My sister caught him outside of our house, hiding in the bushes. But instead of going to prison, he was sent to a psychiatric hospital. I was told it would be better for him and he would be there for at least three years.” She shrugs. “I didn’t care where he went. I just wanted him gone. After he was sent away, I finished the last few months of school then went to Washington University in St. Louis on a dance scholarship and began to rebuild my life.”
“A dance scholarship, now why am I not surprised,” I say, trying to point out something positive in this fucked-up situation.
She flashes me the smile I had hoped for. “It was my dream to dance forever,” she says softly. “It’s all I ever wanted to do. It took a while for the fear to subside, but I managed to find a peace that I had lost the day I met Daniel. I was happy—happier than I had been in a long time. I even met someone—the campus heartthrob,” she adds.
I try not to let that bit of information bother me, but I hate knowing some bastard was lucky enough to have her.
“Then it was all stolen from me once again.”
Dread settles in my gut as her hand moves to her scarf, fingers beginning to tremble. I remain still, knowing I’m about to hear the worst of it.
“I came home from rehearsal one night to find him in bed with my roommate, the girl I thought was my best friend.”
I stiffen in surprise, not expecting that.
Who the hell would be dumb enough to cheat on her?
“I didn’t get a chance to digest the betrayal though because they were lying in a pool of their own blood—dead,” she whispers.
What—the—fuck.
“Daniel was there, hiding in the shadows. Turns out he was released early and no one thought to inform me, as they promised,” she grinds out, her voice thick with anger, but it quickly turns to turmoil the moment she relays the rest of the events. Rage claws its way through me when I hear how scared and helpless she was, the way she fought to escape. However, that emotion transforms into something so much more painful when I hear about the blade slashing her throat.
“I was so sure he stole my last breath,” she whispers, her words filled with despair. “But I woke up days later only to find out they never caught him. After what he did, knowing how much more he’s capable of, I had to run. Had to leave everything I loved behind, including who I was.” She looks at me, misery dark in her eyes as tears of sorrow stain her cheeks. “I miss it all. I miss my life, dancing, but more than anything, I miss my family. Some days so much that I think it will be the loneliness that kills me in the end.”
The sob of agony that explodes from her guts me from the inside out. I pull her trembling body into my arms. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay,” I rasp, feeling like someone poured fucking acid down my throat.
“I’m so tired,” she cries. “Tired of being afraid all the time. Of never knowing when he’ll finish what he started.”
“No. Look at me.” Leaning back, I cradle her face between my hands. “No more running. You need to let me help you.”
“I’m not sure you can. The cops can’t even find him.”
“I can and I will,” I say, resolution burning in my veins. “I swear I won’t let anything happen to you. But you need to let me help you, Sophie,” I say, the name feeling right as it rolls off my tongue.
She gasps, her expression softening. “Say it again.”
I scowl, unsure of what she wants to hear.
“Say my name,” she elaborates.
My forehead falls to hers, the smooth sound of her voice tugging at the hollow part in my chest, the part that only she can command. “Sophie.” Her name whispers past my lips, brushing her wet cheek as I bring my mouth to her ear. “Sophie Parish.”
Her arms hook around my neck as she crawls onto my lap, knees on either side of my hips. I sink into the couch cushions, absorbing the warmth of her body as she trembles against me. Nothing I say can take this away. What she’s lived with, what she’s been through… If I could take this pain as my own and carry it for her, I would.
It’s minutes later before I speak again. “Let me talk to Nick. He’s with the FBI. He will have resources that others don’t.”
She pulls back to look at me, her gaze timid. “I’m not sure I’m ready for others to know yet.”
“Nobody else has to know right now but him. He won’t even tell my sister. Just let me see what he can find on this asshole, then we’ll go from there.” I reach out, swiping the remainder of her tears. “Let me help you, Sophie. You can’t do this by yourself anymore.”
“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you because of me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, baby. Believe me, I’ve fought monsters more threatening than this fucking whack job. I just need you to trust me.”
“I do,” she whispers. “More than anyone else in the world, that’s why I told you.”
“Good. So we agree, no more running?”
She hesitates for only a moment. “No more running.”
Victory fills me, knowing that was a battle in itself. My hand moves to her shoulder, eyes falling to her scarf. “Do you trust me enough to show me what’s under here?”
Her face turns ashen, body trembling once more. “You’ll never look at me the same way again.”
Those bleeding words fuel the storm of emotions already tearing inside of me. “There’s nothing under there that could change the way I look at you.” It’s clear by her solemn expression she doesn’t believe me. “We all have scars, Sophie, in one form or another.” Her gaze snaps to mine as I bring my hand to her cheek. “I just want to know all of you.”
She relents with a shaky sigh, giving me a single nod of permission.
The moment my hand moves to the pink scarf, her eyes fall shut, chin quivering. I gently brush a kiss across her lips, wanting to ease her fear. Her hands move to my side, twisting the fabric of my shirt, silently begging me to not reveal what scares her the most.
“Don’t be scared, baby. I got you.”
The fabric whispers across her skin as I pull the material gently from her neck, revealing the mangled skin beneath. My chest tightens; air passing back and forth as it becomes trapped in my lungs. The angry red scars run crisscross around her throat, proving the evil blade left no inch of flesh untouched. Vengeance burns in my blood, thrumming viciously through my veins, but it becomes overshadowed when a strangled noise penetrates the air. I look up to see Sophie’s eyes still shut, face pinched tight as if this physically pains her.
Instinct takes over and my lips move to her wounded flesh. The contact is powerful. Like a bolt of lightning to my chest.
Air pushes past her throat on a sharp breath when I explore more; desperate to know every scar she bears. Fisting my shirt further, she finally submits to my touch.
“Sophie Parish,” I murmur, dragging my lips across her mutilated skin. “Not a victim but a survivor.”
A sob tumbles past her lips. “How can you say that?”
I grasp her face between my hands, forcing her eyes to mine. “Because that’s who you are. He did not win and he’s not fucking going to. You survived and you’re going to continue to survive.”
“I don’t think I can beat him,” she cries, sounding both exhausted and defeated.
“You won’t need to because I will.”
Her arms go around my neck, face dropping on my shoulder as she continues to cry. With a heavy breath, I stand and carry her down the hall, guessing that’s where her room is. It’s confirmed when I pass the bathroom, reaching the second door on the right.
Lying us down on the bed, I keep her close. She curls into me, her arm draping over my waist and tears soaking my shirt. I don’t say or do anything but hold her, barely able to keep my rage concealed. Once she falls asleep, I reach for my cell in my pocket and shoot a text to Nick.
Me: I need a favor.
Nick: No, I will not stop touching your sister.
I grunt.
Me: It’s a little late for that, asshole, since you knocked her up.
Nick: True. So, what do you want then?
Me: I need you to find out everything you can on a Daniel Wheeler, including where he was last seen.
It’s a few minutes before I hear anything back.
Nick: Done. I’ll let you know when I have something.
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I look down at Sophie, the devastation on her resting face ripping me open once more. Brushing a thick strand of hair off her cheek that’s soaked with the remainder of her tears, I stare down at the scarred flesh with only one thought in mind.
Vengeance.