Chapter Eighteen
Catherine
“Please, Klay. You have no idea how much I need this.” I was so close to crying.
“Hell no am I giving you eight hundred bucks for a flight to San Antonio. You ditched out on me and the shop to go to fucking Hawaii.” His chest rose and fell under his anger; even Madison didn’t go near him. She hung back in the living room. I’d risked the snowstorm to drive here. “What’s going on with you?”
“You don’t understand. I have to go now if I’m going to stop him.”
“Stop who?” He glared down at me so darkly I would have been mildly worried if I wasn’t so worried already.
I decided honesty was my only chance here and told him everything I knew about Brando and what I thought he was going to do to the people who killed his family. “I need to stop him, Klay.” I grabbed his hands and begged him with every ounce of my soul left.
“Call the cops. They should be the ones handling this. You’re not going down there. You could get hurt!” he roared.
Klay’s anger masked what he really felt. And that was oftentimes fear and pain. “What would you do if Madison was on the other side of the country about to risk her life killing the man who hurt her?”
He blanched but didn’t drop his scowl. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Yes, it is. I need your help. If he does this, he’ll get killed or go to prison. He’ll be the bad guy. He isn’t the bad guy. He’s literally every-fucking-thing good in my world. I need him, Klay. Please.”
“Cat,” he growled desperately. “Don’t look at me like that. This is insane, don’t you get that? Murder? Gangs? You don’t belong in a world like that. That’s why Brando took off. To protect you. Listen to him.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Look, Klayton. I’ll get there somehow, even if I have to walk. But if I’m too late, I’ll always blame you. So you’re going to lose me anyway.” That was low, but I was desperate too. “At least give me a chance.”
He ran both hands through his unruly brown hair and then scrubbed one over his beard, his eyes dripping worry. “Call the cops in San Antonio. Tell them everything. And then I’ll give you the money.”
I sighed in acute relief and hugged him. “Thank you, Klay.”
I broke the rules a bit. I called his old partner Ethan Cook instead, relaying everything I knew.
“Shit!” Ethan cursed. “What the hell is he thinking?”
“He’s not,” I said. “What do I do?”
“You don’t do anything. You set one foot outside of your door and all bets are off. Do you hear me, Catherine? You don’t walk into gunfire unless you’re willing to never walk out. Give me thirty and I’ll call you back.”
I paced Klay’s living room, ignoring Madison’s concerned gaze, and Trixie’s big brown eyes following my feet. When Ethan called back, I ducked out the front door and into the cold. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got good news and bad news. Good news is his Charger still has GPS location with the police department. I tracked it to a hotel in San Antonio. Bad news is it’s out of my jurisdiction and the police department in San Antonio won’t move in without cause. Does this have anything to do with the men who broke into his house?” he guessed.
I closed my eyes in realization. “They were going after his safe.”
“They got away. We never identified them. How did he?” Ethan asked.
“Maybe he just knew. Brando has this weird ability to read between the lines. Or maybe he recognized them. He saw the men who tried to kill him.”
“There’s not much more I can do,” he said, a sad edge to his tone. “We have to wait for Brando to resurface.”
I refused to fall victim to his negativity. There was always something more to be done. Brando deserved it. “What’s the name of the hotel?”
“Catherine,” he warned.
“I’m not afraid of gunfire, Ethan. I’m afraid of never seeing him again. Tell me where the fucking hotel is!”
He sighed, the heaviness of it whirring on the other end. “I’ll text you the address.”
I had to stop a good man from doing something bad.
There was no return from murder. Revenge was a savage beast. It was soulless. I’d felt it too many times to count after being raped. I dreamed of all the ways I’d make him pay at my lowest points. I knew how twisted up revenge could make you. How it could start to alter your choices. Make you think it was worth the years of suffering later.
But revenge was wrong. It wasn’t worth the pain later. Not when we had suffered through so much already.
When I came back into the apartment, Klay was standing on the other side of the door, check in hand. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. He’d never appreciate my thanks anyway. He didn’t do good things for the pat on the back. He did them so they’d matter later.
“Take care of Trixie?” I asked, two hours later, a fresh bag packed and over my shoulder.
Madi nodded, holding her on her lap. “I’ll make sure Klay doesn’t throw her away.”
Klay snorted, sitting beside her on the couch. But his eyes were grave. “Be safe, Catherine. Do you fucking hear me?”
I didn’t answer. There was a time when Klayton was my whole world. Now Brando was. Walking into his storm wasn’t dangerous. Not coming out of it with him was. I backtracked, taking an Uber down to Reno to catch a flight down to San Antonio. By the time I landed in Texas, it was close to midnight. The heat rising off the asphalt belied winter.
It felt like danger clung to the heat in the air. I caught a cab to the hotel, checking the distance between where the murders occurred from the hotel. They were within walking distance. My heart fell. The road beside both was a major interstate. Hop on that after giving up his soul and fade away forever.
Or he’ll probably turn himself in. Go to prison and rot for the rest of his life. I was hyperventilating as I stepped out of the taxi at the hotel Ethan texted me the address of. I scoured the parking lot for his Charger, but it’s not there. I shouldered my bag and eyed the picnic benches out front. Using the awning to hide under, I tucked my legs under me and waited. He wouldn’t do anything until tomorrow night. I had to talk to him first.
He had to see me. See our magic for what it was.
Forever, the purest, darkest form of happiness.
We’d never touch the light completely, but we could turn our darkness into gold.
The night settled around me. One in the morning turned into two. Exhaustion started to burn in my eyes and temples by the time I noticed his Charger. It drove purposefully into the parking lot and into a spot. He got out and closed his door, heading to a room on the first floor. My heart seized at the sight of him.
He wore a long sleeve black shirt and jeans. His hair was combed back and his beard completely shaven off like when he’d been in the hospital. Somehow, I knew it was about his scar. He wanted them to see it. Wanted them to see what they took.
I dug into my purse and fisted my find; silver glinted under the moonlight. When I got close to Brando’s back tire, I looked around for witnesses before driving my switchblade I kept in my purse for emergencies right into his tire. The pop of treading and the rush of hot air blasted me in the face. I did it to all four tires before putting my knife back and heading for his hotel door.
The blinds were drawn, but I could hear the TV on. I felt sick to my stomach. The Brando I saw last hadn’t had murder on his mind. He’d had me. With a shaking hand, I covered the peephole and then knocked, hanging back so he wouldn’t be able to see me from his window.
“Who is it?” he growled on the other end, having figured out someone was messing with him.
I didn’t answer.
I heard him curse before the door flew open and there was a gun pointed at my head. The moment he saw me, the color drained from his face.
He dropped his gun with a growl. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“It was easy to find you. Which means it will be easy for someone else, if you know what I mean.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you want to be found? Is that it? You want to go out in glory, using that,” I shoved at his gun, “to avenge your family’s murder? Who are you?” I demanded, seeing a side of him I’d never met.
He stared at me, his mouth slightly ajar in shock, or maybe anger. Then he dropped every single wall he’d ever put in place. “They deserve what I give them.” He patted his chest with his gun. “They took everything from me. And they’ve walked around this earth living, smiling … alive. That isn’t fair.”
Tears immediately burned in my eyes. “No,” I agreed, “it isn’t fair. That wasn’t fair, baby. But you’re not being fair right now either. You’re taking you away from me. And you’re all I have.” I lost it, pointing at him as tears streamed down my face. “How could you do that to me? Murder? Prison? Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re selfish!” I screamed, shoving him into his room. I closed his hotel door and opened my mouth to continue screaming but then I took in the state of his room and paused.
News clippings, worn from years, from his family’s murder, were spread out on the desk, folders stacked full of what I could only assume were clues or notes, stacked precariously beside them. His safe was open on the bed, gaping empty. All the contents that had been inside were now spread out on the bed.
My anger dissipated. I fell to my knees and stared at the objects, my heart shattering.
Ashes. They were his family’s ashes. Three urns, all gleaming metal—he must have spent years polishing them—lay propped up against his pillows. Then there were evidence bags, stuffed full of bloody clothes. The clothes his family had worn that night. Bullet shell casings. The past had lived in that safe.
“Kenny would be twenty-two, you know?” His voice wobbled behind me. “He’d be graduating college. Marrying. Having kids. He’d be alive, Cat, but he’s not and I am. How can I let this pass?”
I touched the smallest urn. Survivor’s guilt had eaten him alive for thirteen years. “You think it should have been you?” Saying that broke me.
“If not me then I should have stayed in the basement. Made it easier on them to kill me. But I had to fight back. I had to be a fucking hero. Now look where it got me. Alone.”
I closed my eyes in misery. I shook my head, speaking with my eyes closed. “No, you don’t mean that. Your family wouldn’t want that. They’re probably up there right now so happy that you’re alive. That you keep them alive too.”
I heard his knees hit the floor and the sob stuck in his voice. “I have to kill them. Just to know a second of peace. You have to understand that. Understand that I love you. That for thirteen years I’ve only known pain. But with you, I got a taste of something that made those thirteen years’ worth it. I love you, Catherine Abbott. But you gotta let me go, baby.”
I fell forward and into the bed, heaving. “No!” I exploded, whirling around on my knees to find him in the same position. The only way for revenge to leave was to put myself in its path. “I will follow you to the end of the fucking earth. You won’t be able to shake me. You go down, you’re taking me with you.”
His face paled further, but his eyes flashed anger. “Really? You kill one and I kill the other?”
Kidding or not, I had no choice. I opened my arms and let my control go. “Take me down, Brando. Avenge your family and destroy me in the process. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? What you were afraid of the entire time?”
“Don’t threaten me.” He pushed to his feet and sucked back his sobs. “Go home.”
“Not happening. You just earned yourself an extremely attractive and pissed off shadow, Detective.” I eyed the gun in his hand. “I love you. I don’t know what we’ll become, but I want to become it with you.” Epiphany’s slammed into me, turning into dreams in an instant. “We can replace what you lost. We can create a new family. But we can’t do that if you go through with this.”
“I have to!” he shouted, hectic energy sizzling in his eyes. “I have to do this. It’s been my only focus for years. There was nothing else. Not until—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair.
“Until me?” I guessed.
He let his hand fall and turned his back to me. “I want that, Cat. Even the idea of forever with you made me happy. Getting it was never an option, though. I knew it, and so did you. This is how it ends. Revenge and regret. Please go home. I had to live with myself after losing my family. I can’t live with myself if I hurt you. Please,” he stressed, glaring down at me, a shimmer of heartache glimmering in his dark green eyes. “Let me do this alone.”
He still hadn’t put his gun down.
“Okay. I’ll get up and leave. Forget I came.” I snorted. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Brando. I didn’t fall in love with a moron. And you didn’t fall in love with someone dumb enough to buy that line. You didn’t do this for me. You’re doing this for your family. A family, who I can guarantee, is not proud of you right now.”
His entire body froze. His eyes darted to the urns, and every single ounce of pain he’d been holding in shone through. “Mom wouldn’t be proud. Kenny either. They were so normal. So good. Dad, on the other hand, would demand I get revenge.” His eyes turned cold and focused on me.
I wondered if he wanted to get revenge for his family, or if he wanted to prove his demons right. Survivor’s guilt probably painted an ugly picture in his head, and for all those years he’s tried his best to prove them right. But they weren’t right. They were the worst kind of wrong.
“From what I can tell, your father isn’t worth throwing your life away. Your mother and your brother want for you what they didn’t get. Be their good, not your father’s bad.”
He brought his hands to his face, the barrel of the gun aimed at the ceiling. “You don’t even know my father.”
“I know his involvement in a gang took your whole family away. But we can have that again someday. We can create a new family. Don’t you want to be there for your kids?” I wiped my tears, struggling to see him through the blur of my heartache. “For me? I won’t be okay if you’re out of my life. I won’t be okay!” I wailed, cracking wide open. “Forgive yourself and come home with me.”
A low hum of rage grunted in his throat. He lowered the hand with the gun enough to catch my gaze. “I have to do this.”
I nodded stiffly and pushed to my feet. “So then we’re both going down. Fine. Give me a gun.”
“Stop being ridiculous.” He started pacing the small hotel room.
Other than the Texas painting on the wall, it looked identical to the one we’d stayed in on our drive to Portland. That had been a seemingly hard time. But it hadn’t been hard. It had been … us. A burst of good in the middle of bad. Beauty tainted by so much unease.
“Give me a chance. Give me an opportunity to paint your world full of magic, Brando. I only want to make you happy. Can’t you see that?” I approached him, and he paced faster, a caged animal. “If you ever loved me, let me have a chance to mean more to you than your revenge.”
He stopped mid-pace and gaped at me. “If I ever loved you? Are you hearing yourself? I’ve only loved you!” he hissed.
“Then put the gun down and stop fighting. Come home with me. Be with me.” When he hesitated, I saw red. “You know who you’re reminding me of right now?”
“Who?” he shot. So ready to be the bad guy.
“My family. If you let me walk away, you’ll be like them. You lost your family? So did I! But we have this chance, and you’re going to piss all over it.”
Trying to argue with him in that state was like talking to a wall. He heard me, I knew he had, but a mind focused so intensely on retribution couldn’t see reason. It didn’t want reason. It wanted blood.
“Don’t push me away like my family did. Don’t let me walk right back into hell.”
“Catherine,” he begged, desperateness etched in his brutal, handsome face. “I can’t stop this.”
“Yes, you can. That’s what’s so hard. It’s all up to you. And you hate that, don’t you?” I moved closer to him, until I was standing in front of him. I put my hands on his chest and held his red-stained gaze. “Give me the gun.”
He stiffened under my touch, the red in his eyes looking a lot like unstableness.
I had to get him out of there. Out of that hotel. Out of that state. Out of that frame of mind.
Out of his pain and into our love.
He urged the gun into my hand. The moment it was mine, he dropped to his knees and stared helplessly at his family’s urns.
The weight of the last thirteen years pushed him down.
But I would always be there to pick him up.