LUCY

 

Mr. King’s townhome was six stories of history and beauty. Unfortunately, I was too keyed-up to appreciate the tasteful décor.

I wasn’t sure why he wanted me here, considering the explosive nature he tended to have towards his grandson, but I couldn’t deny I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until I saw Killian was safe and sound.

We spent the hours in his den in silence. Me sitting in an armchair by the fireplace and him at his desk.

Finally, at around four, Mr. King’s cell phone went off. He nodded once and then tossed it down.

“Jorge has him.”

Relief trampled right through me. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.”

“Oh thank God!”

Mr. King grunted, but I knew he was just as relieved. More so.

I whispered my prayers, so grateful the King money and power got Killian out. It was the second time I’d seen what influence could do, the first being when I got out…

Don’t think about it. That was then. This is now.

My leg started bouncing. Tonight uncovered the dirt and I didn’t like it. I wanted to be in the here and now, not reliving shame. I didn’t have to imagine what Killian had gone through tonight.

Humiliation. Fear. Powerlessness.

The knowledge that the life you had before was gone forever. The impotence of strangers deciding your fate, seeing you as trash, devolving your entire existence into one slice of time.

Rebuilding the only option—if you were lucky.

Curling my fingers, I resisted the impulse to dig them into my arms. I created this by letting my emotions control me instead of me controlling them.

Leg bouncing faster, I was coming out of my skin. I wished I could go back in time and do it all differently. I wouldn’t have asked Killian to lunch. I’d rather have been ignored forever than to end up here.

The sound of steps pierced my misery.

I jerked up to my feet just as the door opened. Killian strolled in, disheveled only a bit. Tired about the eyes, but presenting well considering what he’d just gone through.

He spared me only the slightest bit of attention, but what I saw made my heart drop. Killian’s expression turned colder than the first time I met him.

He blames you.

Of course, he did. Why wouldn’t he?

Mr. King rounded his desk. He didn’t say a word until he stood in front of his grandson. “And now you’re officially a criminal.”

I winced.

“Don’t you think it’s in poor taste to talk about this in front of the help?”

“¡Desgraciado!” Mr. King slapped Killian right across the face. The brutal sound of his hand striking flesh brought tears to my eyes.

Killian’s jaw clenched repeatedly as he stared a hole right through the wall. Finally, he spoke. “You’re right, Grandfather. I am a disgrace. A loser. A piece of shit. Pick your insult.”

Mr. King gasped another curse. He slapped the other side of Killian’s face.

Bringing my hands to cover my mouth, I silently begged Killian to stand down. To tell the truth of what happened tonight.

It wasn’t his fault. He was trying to defend me. If I hadn’t jumped the gun, if I had just pulled my arm away from Carter instead of using it as an excuse to rage, none of this would’ve played out like this.

It should’ve been me in cuffs tonight. Not Killian.

Just tell him. Please.

Killian’s jaw pulsed as he obviously ground his teeth. I expected him to blow up in rage, to point his finger at me and roar my blame.

Instead, he avoided my gaze. Both of ours.

That hurt worse than if he’d just denounced me.

“What is wrong with you, Killian! Everything I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices your family has made for your sake—you disrespect the family name like this? I do not want criminals in my family! Ever!”

My twisted stomach dropped to the ground to join my broken heart. I imagined it squelching, wet and disgusting.

Who can blame him?

It didn’t matter how good of a person you were before or after. No one saw that or even cared. The only thing that mattered was your record. Your crime.

Time didn’t change the numbers and files attached to your name. They were etched in stone. Forever branding you as other. Less than. Unworthy.

Criminal.

Frozen to the spot, I heard Mr. King as if far away.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Killian? Answer me!”

Killian remained silent. Mr. King surely saw the same thing I did. Killian was already far away from here.

I wished I was too.

Mr. King shook his proud head. His next words gutted me as surely as they did his grandson.

“I am ashamed to call you family. I hope that man you attacked tonight changes his mind and presses charges. I hope you finally face consequences for your actions. You reap what you sow, Killian Von Hügel, and know you will have brought it all on your head. Don’t expect me to help you past this because my door is closed.”

Mr. King then cruelly twisted the knife.

“Gracias a Dios that Timothy is nothing like you. Thank God! That’s how it will stay. You are no longer welcome in my house. Do not contact him. If you do, I will have Romano draw up an order against you. Am I making myself clear?”

Killian remained outwardly oblivious to his grandfather’s viciousness. Yet, I saw the crack in his callous veneer. I knew he loved his little brother and to lose him too?

No. I had to make this right.

“Mr. King?”

Both of them turned their attention on me. I nearly wilted beneath their combined fire and ice stares.

My breath stuttered out. I was about to lose my newfound place in the world. I was under zero illusions what Mr. King would do when he heard my role in Killian’s arrest.

I’d deserve it too.

I was the one who brought this disgrace on his family. I was the true desgraciado. Not Killian.

Knees weak and legs trembling, I opened my mouth to tell Mr. King the truth. Three words. “It’s my fault.”

But nothing came out.

I tried to swallow but the knot in my throat wouldn’t allow it.

“What is it, Miss Lucy?”

Mr. King’s tight voice barely passed polite. He didn’t have time for my dawdling. It was all going to change after this moment.

But I’m okay with it. I knew I couldn’t be here forever. Just get it over with.

I was supposed to help him by helping his grandson. Instead, I’d made a mess of Killian’s life. I didn’t need to be here any longer. This was all going to be for the best.

“I’m sorry, Mr. King, but tonight was my fault.”

The creases bracketing his mouth deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Killian wasn’t responsible. I was the one who—”

The very same Killian heaved a scornful sigh. “Really, Gramps? You’re going to waste time listening to Lucy bleat? We both know she’s trying to take the fall in a misguided attempt at sainthood.”

Mr. King swiveled his head in his grandson’s direction. “You better shut your mouth. I have no patience for you!”

“No, I will not shut my mouth.” Killian crossed his arms in defiance. “It’s bad enough I have to hear your shit, Gramps, but I’ll be damned if I stand here and listen to Lucy go on and on about any of this being her fault.”

Eyes wide, I tried to interrupt. “Now wait a minute—”

Killian’s rocked back on his heels and snarled, “Shut the fuck up. Now.”

Mr. King reached out and cuffed him on his face again. “No le falta de respeto a Lucy otra vez!”

Killian fingered his jaw. He smiled, a broken tragic thing, before unleashing an inferno of rage.

“I will show a lack of respect to Lucy all day every day as long as I want, Grandfather! Haven’t either of you figured that out yet? I don’t want her in my life! I’m sick of her and you!”

Mr. King and I shrank back. Killian wasn’t satisfied.

“Why else do you think I kicked the shit out of Carter? Because I have to deal with her every day! Dealing with Lucy is the same as dealing with you. Since I can’t hit her nor you, well, good old Carter had to take the beating. Feel pity for him considering your role in it.”

Why was he talking like this? Killian couldn’t mean a single word he spewed. That wasn’t the man I spent time with all these weeks. I believed with every part of my being that he wasn’t this hateful of a person.

The combined horror on our faces must’ve been too much. Killian sneered at us and then turned around. “It’s late and I’ve got to wash the stink of jail off me.”

Mr. King’s jaw dropped before snapping shut. Fury gathered around him, misting his entire complexion red. His brows snapped hard and one finger pointed at his grandson’s back.

“You walk out that door, Killian, and I wash my hands of you.”

Killian’s confident gait swayed to the left before righting itself. “You already washed your hands of me a long time ago, Grandfather. Good night to you both.”

He closed the door, soft click hitting harder than if he’d slammed it.