Chapter Twenty-One
Brando
Blood caked my fingernails.
My hands shook as I held them out in front of me. Cat’s blood. I heard my lungs struggling to breathe, the memories of her crumpled broken body biting into the asphalt, the smell of her blood in the air mixing with the tang of gunpowder. Her tattooed arm slung around her head, the moon shining directly on her face. Her beautiful face.
I buried my face in my hands in the ICU waiting room. Two hours. She’d been rushed to emergency surgery. Four bullets in her back. The poetic justice falling down on me turned my stomach. I did that to her. She begged me. She warned me. But the desire for revenge had been too strong.
It amazed me that I’d spent thirteen years wanting to make those two men pay, and the moment Cat was in danger, I hated putting them down. Her life in danger shifted my desires in a split second. What I had wanted no longer mattered, and what I needed did. I needed her.
And she was fighting for her life. I rocked, back and forth, mumbling her name for what felt like hours. I got up ten times to ask for an update, and each time they told me the same thing. There was no news.
I didn’t call anyone. Catherine was mine.
Although I was sure I never deserved her, I knew it now. But where I agreed before, I denied it now. She was mine. And I failed her.
At ten the next morning, after almost nine hours of being on an endless loop of torture, the San Antonio Police Department came to talk to me.
“Detective,” they greeted, shaking my hand. “We need an hour, if you’re up for it?”
I nodded numbly.
They both sank down on either side of me. If they knew I was a detective, they’d already looked into me. They grilled me, writing down in their notepads. I didn’t bother lying. I told them everything. From thirteen to now. I came back to my hometown to kill them. I lured them to my hotel, but I hadn’t equated Cat showing up. I shot them because they shot her. But I would have shot them anyway.
“Are charges being pressed?” I asked after everything was laid out, my tone empty. “First degree murder? Second degree?”
The younger cop snorted. “Yeah right. We ran Catherine’s name for next of kin. Her father’s one of the largest banking investors in the world. He threatened the entire department if we drug her name, or his, into this. His daughter’s shot and two murderers are gone. That’s the story we have to tell.”
I frowned. Cat didn’t talk to her family. And all her father cared about was protecting his name? “But that’s a lie.”
“Not entirely. You called in a robbery. That’s what it was.” They both stood up. “My old man led your case back in the day.” He met my eyes. “He quit the force the day it turned cold. Could never get the image of your brother’s body out of his head. No one’s going to miss the bastards who killed your brother and your family. My old man can sleep easy tonight.” They both patted my back and walked away, leaving me there.
Free. I didn’t deserve to be free.
The moment they left, the doctor came out of the ICU, eyes tired. He looked around the room. “Mr. Hawkins?”
I bolted up. “How is she?” I braced myself, praying with all my heart and soul that my magical girl was still creating spells and wonder.
“She’s stable, but she isn’t in the clear,” he warned, when I put my face in my hands in relief. “We’ve put her in an induced coma to give her body a chance to heal without the stress. She’ll need to rest. The bullets missed her organs, but they ripped through her ribcage and pieces of bones tore through her lungs, causing her left lung to collapse. We repaired the damage …”
I tried to listen to him, but all I heard was that she was stable. I looked up to the sky and sent a silent thanks to the same force Cat pointed to in the parking lot. We’re allowed this. We had to have this.
Please don’t let me kill this like I let my family down.
“When can I see her?”
He thought about it, staring into my eyes. “Are you her husband?”
“Yes,” I answered, no hesitation, no thinking. “We haven’t had a chance to change her name yet,” I lied.
He nodded, relieved. “You can see her now. I’ll have a nurse bring you back. Go have a seat.”
I waited. And I waited. I paced, and I paced. I didn’t blink, didn’t dare doubt; I held on to the word stable. Even when the nurse brought me back and the sight of her shredded what was left of my soul. Was that how she felt? Staring at me? Wanting to touch me, to heal me. My chest hummed with my emotions. Regret, anger, and helplessness. The difference was stark though. She had been by my side because she’d wanted to be. I was by her side because I put her where she lay.
I pulled a chair up to her bedside and clasped her hand, placing my forehead on it. Words failed me. Something told me she wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. I skimmed my lips over her knuckles, kissing the scratches she’d gotten from when she’d fallen to the ground.
The doctor came in twice to check on her. The second time, he gave me a heavy look. “She’ll be much the same for the next couple days. Longer if she needs it. Why don’t you go home? Change and eat at least?”
I didn’t have a home in San Antonio. My hotel was now a crime scene. I’d been so hell bent on retribution, I’d overlooked the darkness at the end. I ignored him and held her hand tighter. I’d been given a pair of scrub bottoms when I got to the hospital. They were the color of the sky, but they weren’t bright enough to ease my mood. I needed to see her eyes. I needed to say I was sorry. To tell her that I’d give her everything she ask me for in that hotel. Every. Single. Thing.
I had to let my family go. As painful as it would be—I could hardly think of doing it without biting back a sob—I had to do it for Cat. She didn’t deserve half a man. She deserved someone whole. Even if I had no idea how to be.
I didn’t move for two days. When the nurses cleaned her wounds, I watched every inch of her. When they checked her stats and tucked her in, I kept my eyes on her. Eventually, the doctor demanded I go home, bringing in security when I fought them.
“I don’t want to leave her!” I growled, pressing my fist into my right thigh so I didn’t smash their faces in. If I did that, I wouldn’t be allowed back. I had to be here with her.
“She’ll be fine,” the nurse whispered in my ear. “I promise. Go home. Shower, eat, and please sleep. You look terrible.”
I shook her and the guard off, pushing past the doctor. My eyes burned from exhaustion, but sleep was something the restless needed. I was too numb to feel anything. I was in a lost state of mind. I managed to catch a cab to the hotel, staring straight at nothing.
When he pulled into the parking lot, my eyes fell on the hotel room I’d purchased. I’d spent hours looking into the old Hard Rider’s neighborhoods, putting the word out, taunting. I moved to Portland to throw Angus and Monty off. They’d never left San Antonio, living in squalor, as obsessed with me as I was with them. I was the only person left alive. I saw their faces. I knew who they were. I promised myself all those years ago that I would find them. And I imagined there was no way they’d be able to move past being expunged from the Hard Riders.
For many men that gang was their life. If they had had a life they probably wouldn’t have strayed so hard to the right. For my mother, however, that gang was the demon in her nightmares. She’d fallen in love with my father, not the gang. Her sweet beautiful face drifted into my mind, and for the first time I didn’t fight it. I let the beauty of her wash over me in a painful wave.
How did I get so lost? I thought I wanted that. Wanted the pain, at least it meant I was still alive. Wanted the solitude because being alone made it easier to hide. Fought for nothing because something hurt too much to feel. But all that time I spent in the shadows hunting monsters had turned me into one.
The last thing Cat needed was a monster. She deserved a prince.
But I’d never quite figured out how to don a crown without wanting to smash it on the ground.
“I’ll run in and get you some cash,” I said to the driver, catching his nod before getting out. There was nothing in front of my hotel room but an old dried-up puddle of blood. I pushed the room open to find it the way I left it. I expected a crime scene, but the Hard Riders still ran here, and old habits were hard to break. My family’s urns glared at me, judging me for hurting the only woman I’ve ever loved.
Even my Glock was on the dresser where Cat had placed it. I skimmed my fingers over the handle. A shrill horn sounded outside. I cleared my throat and went over to my wallet on the nightstand, pulling out a twenty for the taxi driver. When I returned, I closed my hotel door and stared out at the chaos that was my life for thirteen years.
Maybe that chaos kept me alive. Gave me something to look forward to. It twisted up my thoughts and turned them around until they were unrecognizable.
Rage swept over me, engulfing my heart. I marched down to the hotel lobby and asked the clerk for a garbage bag. It was a young girl, probably late teens, smacking gum and reading a magazine. She didn’t even look up, her red curls bouncing. Two men were gunned down not twenty feet away, and she didn’t even look up. I didn’t know if I envied her ignorance or feared it.
I returned to my room and did something I should have done years ago. I put everything I’d carried around, the endless notes, the map, the clues, the addresses and ledgers, into the garbage bag. The black bag could barely hold the contents. I drug it out back, stepping over piss stains and cigarette butts, and held my breath against the rotten stench of trash and lobbed it into the garbage can. I lifted the lid and let it fall, closing the door on my hunt once and for all.
Returning to my room, I knew the urns were next, but I couldn’t get myself to throw them away. It wasn’t their fault I ruined everything. I picked up Kenny’s urn and held it in my lap, staring off into hell for what felt like hours. A meaningless wasteland of nothing consumed me, until I heard a faint vibrating. I looked around. On the floor near the front door was Catherine’s jeans and sneakers I’d taken off in the parking lot.
I grabbed the ankle and drug it over. The same cell I’d called the cops with tumbled out of the heap. Klay was calling. When the call ended, I saw ten missed calls and fifteen text messages all wondering where she was with a heavy emphasis on expletives.
I didn’t call him back. Catherine was mine.
I turned her phone off and tossed it on the bed. I took a quick shower, dressed in jeans and a Denver PD training shirt, and put my boots on. I locked my Glock back in its safe, along with my family, and stored it beside the nightstand and the bed. I grabbed a coffee and a protein bar from the hospital cafeteria and then made my way upstairs.
The blinds were pulled in Catherine’s room. She looked so pale and fragile in the dark. I put my hand to her cheek and kissed her chapped lips. “I love you,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Don’t give up on me.” I didn’t open my eyes until someone cleared their throat behind me.
I stood up, ignoring the knot in my back, to find an older man in a three-piece charcoal suit standing inside of Catherine’s room. His jet-black hair had small layers of white dispersed through the onyx strands, and his eyes were flat and brown. “Who are you?” I demanded.
He stared at Cat, a ghost of something entering his eyes. He swallowed delicately, and a small, pained smile lifted his lips. “When she was a little girl, she wanted to become an artist. I made sure she knew she’d become a doctor. Drilled it in her from the moment she could talk. Ironic, huh? That she’s in the hospital, covered in that stuff she calls art.”
Her father. A feeling of protectiveness slithered down my spine. I stood up straight.
It was ironic, but not the way he thought it was.
He stepped closer to the end of her bed. “We never got along much, Catherine and me. She was always so mouthy.” But he smiled again, this sad, small smile. “Expressive, bright, never accepting an explanation she didn’t give herself first. It was better for us both if we didn’t keep ties.”
My right hand curled into a fist.
“Maybe it was passed on. My father was the same way as I was to my daughter. I understand money much better than I understood a child with so much light in her eyes. Dollar signs make sense, and Catherine never did. It’s been about twelve years since she ran away, and not one day goes by where I don’t wonder what she’s doing.” He reached out and touched her foot. “Her hospital bills will be paid. Aftercare as well.” He walked around the bed to put himself close to her head, staring down at his daughter with the oddest expression on his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was regret.
I knew all too well how many years could be lost to our selfish desires.
And how fast those desires could change.
“She’s so beautiful,” he whispered. “Looks like me, don’t you think?” He reached out and ran his knuckles over her cheek. “What happened, Brando?”
I wasn’t surprised he knew my name. Something told me this man knew way more than he put on. I could see it in the pain in his eyes. He knew all he’d done wrong, and he knew all he’d wasted. I pulled the chair in the corner over to her bed and clasped her hand, telling her father every part of the truth I had. When I was done, he pushed her hair behind her ear and drug his fingers over her closed eyes.
“We’re not much different, are we?” he mumbled. “You and I.”
I wanted so badly to deny him. I wouldn’t do the wrongs he’d done, but I had done enough of my own to understand that a wrong was a wrong. “She deserves better.”
He shrugged. “Saying it won’t make it so.”
I grunted. “I guess we’re selfish.”
“We’re all selfish, son. We want things beyond our control. Whether it’s money or … love.” He said love like it was an alien, this foreign species he wasn’t acquainted with.
I hated how much it sounded like me. That Cat had chosen a man like the one she’d ran away from. I wanted to be different, right then and there. To be someone she deserved, if even for a moment.
“She’ll be okay,” he murmured. He bent down to whisper something in her ear, and the burning regret in his eyes shimmered. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and then glanced at me. “Get me a chair, son.”
Catherine was mine. I didn’t want to share her. But the man didn’t seem to be deterred. Grunting, I pushed to my feet and asked one of the nursing staff for a chair, returning a moment later with it in my hand to find that he’d taken over mine. I gritted my teeth and tamped down my annoyance, putting my chair on her right instead of on her left.
I put my mouth over her ear and kissed her earlobe.
“Detective, huh?” her old man spoke up. “That’s impressive, considering you came from low-income squalor and such violence.”
Squalor? I bit my tongue. My mother worked seven days a week to give my brother and me what we needed. My father made dirty money, and she tried her hardest to keep us away from that. But evil found them still. I wondered what it would be like today had she left him. Took us boys and went to another state. Of course, he’d probably find us, but even an attempt to run was better than never doing so.
“I quit the force after my injuries.”
“You’re still a detective. I can see the cop in you when you sized me up, the way you look between my words. You’ll always be a cop.”
“Wake up,” I whispered in Cat’s ear. “And save me.” To her father I said, “Not my thing anymore.”
“How will you support Catherine?”
The way he said her name was so unconnected. He was speaking of a girl he no longer knew. “We’ll manage.”
“Tattooing,” he snorted. “Probably no harm in admitting that I’ve followed Catherine from afar since she ran away. She’s worked at that damned tattoo shop, Guns & Ink, for so long she’s missed any opportunity to go to college.”
I pressed my back molars together. Watching someone from afar didn’t do shit when they were suffering so close to their hearts. “She’s a talented artist, Mr. Abbott.”
“Benjamin,” he corrected. “Art doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Maybe her bills aren’t as expensive as yours.” I met his cold brown eyes. Cat got his eye color, but she created her own soul. Living with a man like that, she probably had no choice. “Or maybe her happiness doesn’t cost as much.”
He frowned. “Oh, great. She found a man as foolish as her. You work there too. I looked you up, Brando Hawkins.” His eyes held and trapped mine.
“I’d look you up too, but Catherine told me everything I needed to know about you. Blaming your own daughter for being touched inappropriately? That’s pretty fucked up, Benjamin. Do you have any idea the situations your neglect and judgment put her in? The horrible moments she’s had to endure trying to find some fucking magic in the world?” I leaned forward when he flinched, but the man still held my gaze head on. “She’s fighting for her fucking life right now. Maybe save the judgment for when she’s strong enough to tell you to fuck off herself.” I sat back, staring intently at her face.
He surprised me by chuckling. And then he leaned back and clasped his hands in front of himself, getting comfortable. “Something tells me she’ll have no problem doing so.”
I didn’t comment. I wanted him gone, but the man was her father. Maybe she’d want him there the same way I was glad she was there when I woke up. I wanted my father, even after he’d ruined my life.
“Where are you staying?” he spoke up after almost an hour of silence.
I could do silence. It was thinking of something to say that was the hard part. “You mean you don’t know?” When he remained silent, I sighed, answering him. The man was persistent. “I have a hotel room off the highway.”
He shuddered. “That shit hole? I’m staying at the Marriott in Hill Country. I’ll get you a suite. She’ll need somewhere to convalesce anyway. She won’t be doing that in a shitty hotel,” he stated coldly. “She’s my daughter. And I don’t know where this married shit is coming from. She doesn’t even have a ring.”
Rage boiled in my blood. “You’re her father? Where were you after she was raped? Where were you when she was homeless and alone? Money doesn’t make a good father. Don’t tell me how to care for her.”
His face paled. He swallowed hard and his eyes snapped to her face. A cold, hard evil slid over him. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. She’ll never tell. And she damn sure won’t do so after this. I’m done with revenge. It takes more than it gives.”
“When did it happen?” he asked, his hands cradling hers.
I hated how this must look. Two men who didn’t deserve her clutching at her broken body. I buried my face against her and closed my eyes. “A couple years after she took off.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. What he said or thought wouldn’t change the pain his daughter endured. He left silently late into the night after he got a call. Her nurses came in not soon after, giving me disparaging looks. You again, I could tell they were thinking. Damn right, me again.
“I’ll, uh, let you two do your job.” I pushed away from my chair and stood, bending down to kiss her sleeping lips. My heart twisted in my chest having to leave her. And all I could think of was when I had her. Regret was ten times worse than wanting revenge. Revenge gave me something to look toward. Regret reminded me of everything I pushed away.
A brush of unsteadiness hit me, and I righted myself against the elevator on my way down. I needed to eat and sleep, but I needed Catherine more. Empty, I stumbled through the days. Skipping meals and showers in exchange for her. Her father joined me every morning, but left every night. We didn’t talk much, other than short answers. I slept when I couldn’t take it, sitting up in my chair. My nightmares were only about her.
The entire time I couldn’t help feeling like it was all a lesson. The want, the starving need, was proof of how wrong I’d done things with her. From the moment we met I never truly gave us a shot. I always knew it would end in revenge. And perhaps I should have denied her completely. Maybe I never should have even tried. But she was hard to deny, and even harder not to want. I needed her. Somehow. Someway.
Or I couldn’t breathe.
She was breath, she was reason, and if she gave me another shot, I’d spend forever convincing her of that.
The doctor eased her out of sedation seven days after the night she was injured. In those seven days I’d gone places in my mind I hadn’t been since I was a teenager.
I sat up, watching her face intently. It was six that night, and her father had left an hour ago. She was all mine again. The moment her right hand moved, my heart beat a little faster. When her chest moved faster, so did mine. I knew what she was feeling. Pain and confusion. I’d been where she was.
Could remember how lost I felt.
I leaned close.
She groaned, her lips moving. I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I pressed the call button for the nurses immediately and stepped back as they spoke to her and got pain meds into her IV drip. She went out as soon as she came back. But I waited.
Two days later, I sat up in my chair, breathing heavily from the aftereffects of my nightmare.
We’d been on an empty road in Hawaii. At least, I thought it was Hawaii. On our right was the ocean, on our left was a field of dandelion weeds. White, puffy dandelions and bright, yellow flowers. Both sides were endless. The water never stopped and the flowers went on for miles. Cat kept staring at the ocean, her back to the weeds. I tried to get her attention. Couldn’t understand her fixation. Before I could stop her, she’d bolted, diving head first into the waves.
In my nightmare, I dove in after her, searching until the sun set, until the blue of the waves turned black with night. Until all I could remember was how I wouldn’t have lost her if she’d dove into the dandelions.
When I blinked aware in the hospital, I scrubbed a hand down my face, my eyes falling on her. At first, I thought my eyes were still fooling me. She sat up in bed, hair in a messy bun, eyes swollen and red. Face drained of color. Her eyes shot fire at me, and beyond those flames I could feel her deep hurt.
“Cat,” I gasped, grabbing hold of her hand. “You’re awake.”
“What were you dreaming about?” she croaked.
The sound of her voice after so long without it was a special kind of beauty. “You,” I answered.
She looked down at our conjoined hands, and then carefully extracted hers, settling them both on her lap. She wouldn’t even look at me.
“I’ve been thinking of a million different ways to say I was sorry, but saying sorry won’t make anything right, will it, baby?” I took her hand again, unfolding her shaking fingers and wrapping mine around them. A clear tear welled in her eye and escaped over the side, trailing down her cheek. “But I am. I am so sorry.”
“For what?” she asked, forcing me to give her the truth.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you from the start. I’m sorry I risked us, when you’re the only thing I live for. I’m sorry I put you in danger. And I’m sorry I put myself in danger, because for some reason you love me. And I know that hurt you, Catherine, something I never want to do again.”
She sighed heavily and shook her head, pulling her hand free once more. “I don’t believe you.”
I sat back, trying to gauge her emotions from her eyes. “You did.”
“That was before your lies got me shot.” She sniffed, her face cringing in pain, as she tried to get comfortable. “You got what you wanted. Your family’s murderers are gone. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Your job’s done. You can leave.” The pain on her face was so strong it nauseated me. I did that. I hid behind her love and took advantage of her emotions. She met my eyes, burning me with her anger. “Leave.”
That’s what she wanted, what she probably always did. To run and push away. How could we ever earn our smiles if we didn’t stick out the hard stuff? “Like hell I’m leaving. You’re upset. You’re hurting. Work through your anger, Cat. I’ll be here the entire time. And when you’re ready to forgive me, we’ll get started on what you wanted in that hotel room. Love. A chance. A family. I want those things too.” I kissed the back of her hand, holding her tortured gaze. She wanted to forgive me, but forgiving me was harder when the crimes had already been committed.
“Now you do. Now that you got your revenge.”
I understood, and even accepted, her anger. She could be mad, but she couldn’t fool me into thinking she didn’t want those things anymore. She did. I did. And we’d have them, as soon as she forgave me.
“I always wanted them. But I also knew I wouldn’t have them.” I figured honesty at that point was the only saving grace I had. “I never planned on living my life, Catherine. I didn’t even know I wanted a life until I met you.”
“I can’t stand looking at your stupid handsome face right now.”
I kissed up the back of her hand, nipping at her wrist. “Why don’t you push your hospital gown to the side. Give Daddy a peek.”
She glared murderously down at me. “Did I crack jokes when you were in here?”
“No, but out of the two of us, I’m much funnier.” I turned her hand over and found her pulse, kissing where it thrummed the hardest.
She stared carefully at me. “Are you on something?”
I chuckled against her pulse. “No, baby. I’m happy.”
She continued to stare, either unconvinced, or uncaring. “You’re not forgiven, Brando Hawkins. Not by a long shot. So stop looking at me like that.” She snatched her wrist away.
“Oh, I don’t know. I bet I could do something that would make you forgive me.” I got down on one knee before I could stop myself, and dug into my pocket.
She froze. “Get up.”
“Give me your hand.” I produced my mother’s ring I’d kept in the safe all these years. “When you’re better, and the IV’S out of your other hand, we’ll switch it.” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand back. “I want what you want. To start over.” I slipped the ring, a modest gold band with a single diamond—my parents were never rich—over her finger. I didn’t give her the chance to say yes or no. She’d said all she needed to for months. I was the one who needed to start talking. “We deserve this.”
She stared down at the ring, eyes shining with tears. “Is this …?”
“Mom never took it off.”
She hiccupped, covering her mouth with her hand. “This isn’t fair. I’m supposed to be livid right now.”
“Be livid. You can get as mad as you want. But you will marry me. And you will know magic.”
Her eyes shone as they met mine. “Long engagement.”
“Whatever you want,” I assured her softly. I rose, putting our faces closer together. “I am so sorry, Catherine. We’ll take the time we need. But we will get there. I promise.”
Her forehead fell against mine. “You’re taking advantage of my mental state right now. Who says I even want to marry you?”
I kissed her, groaning in need the moment our lips touched. When I pulled away, her eyes were closed, and everything I ever needed to know was in her expression. “You did.”
Her eyes fawned open, revealing a glimmer of ruefulness. She sagged back to her bed and breathed, her energy fading so fast, I could see the light dim in her eyes. “You’re not off the hook yet, Detective,” she mumbled tiredly, her lips barely moving. “Fix this,” she begged, before cascading into unconsciousness.