Chapter 24
For two damned days, Justice had tried to make the authorities in France comprehend that Gene Hayes was a wanted man. Unfortunately it didn’t matter. Hayes was gone by the time the authorities sorted it out and went to apprehend him.
When they finally released Justice, it was with the understanding that he leave Paris on the first flight out.
Justice sat in the back of the rented car, rage, grief and worry eating his guts. On top of it, his cracked rib hurt like a bitch, and he had a couple stitches in his eyebrow. But his aches were nothing compared to his concern about Beth.
“You’re damn lucky,” Simon snapped. “The French authorities had good reason to charge you.”
“But they didn’t. Because Gene Hayes was right there under their noses and they did nothing.” When would he wake from this endless nightmare?
“How the hell would they have known? You went to the hotel, shoved into the room and attacked him. He was using an assumed name with identification. It took them a while to sort it out.” Simon glared at him. “If you’d done this right, Hayes would be arrested. Instead, he’s gone.”
He closed his eyes. Did he ever not fuck up? “Just get me to the hotel. I need to see Liza.” His Beth. He had to beg her forgiveness. For everything. He hadn’t even been there when she was released from the hospital.
The only good news was Emily had flown in on Sloane’s plane to be there with her. Emily would take care of her. And Sloane had sent some lawyer to get Justice out of this mess.
It was several minutes before he realized Simon hadn’t said another world. “What are you not telling me?”
“You have to stay calm.”
The car had stopped directly in front of the hotel. Calm? One look at the regret and sympathy in Simon’s eyes tripped his adrenaline. Justice shoved out of the car, nearly tripping as pain lanced his side and stole his breath. Sick sweat burned his skin, but he didn’t care. Forcing his body past the hurt, he raced into the hotel, ignoring the elevators to take the stairs two at a time. Faster, get to her. Don’t let this happen.
On the fourth floor, heaving from exhausted terror and near-blinding agony, he limped to his room and shoved in the key. Pushing inside, he stopped.
The echo of emptiness pierced into his soul. The bed stood perfectly made with the gold-striped blue comforter. Two blue chairs framed the window with the partial view of the Eiffel Tower. But no sign of Beth. A bare thread of hope propelled him to check the bathroom.
Empty.
Gone.
His legs shook as he crossed to the closet and slowly opened the doors. Only his clothes, suitcase and somehow his guitar were stored there. Had he even had it in his hand when he left the stage after their set ended? He didn’t remember. All he could see was Beth’s ravaged face as she held their baby.
He turned in a helpless circle, when his gaze caught on a thick cream-colored envelope propped against the lamp on the bedside table.
Justice was scrolled across the front in blue pen, the letters rigid and thick, as if she’d held the pen too tight in her hand. Drawn to that envelope, he felt like he was walking toward a death sentence.
Toward the end.
How long did he stand there, staring down at it?
He wasn’t going to be able to bear what was in there.
Yet he reached out and snatched it up. After ripping open the sealed flap, he withdrew a folded sheet of paper.
Clink.
That tiny sound wrenched his heart. Setting the unread sheet aside, he held up his hand and poured out the contents.
Beth’s rings. Her engagement ring he’d had made from his grandmother’s diamonds, and the plain wedding band.
All the air rushed from his lungs. She’d left him. While he’d been in jail, Beth had left. His eyes burned, and pressure clamped his chest. Fisting the rings, he picked up the paper.
Dear Justice,
When I got pregnant and you told me, ‘Don’t make me choose between the baby and my dream…’ I didn’t want to understand. I loved you with everything I had. I truly was all in every second. I believed you when you told me you loved me, that I was your song. I would have sacrificed anything for you—anything but our baby.
But the blame doesn’t just lie with you. I knew who I was—the girl who ruined a rock star and destroyed my family. People who didn’t even know me hated me. My own family disowned me because I was making reckless, selfish decisions. I thought they were all wrong.
But they were right.
I understand now, but it’s too little, too late.
Let me go, Justice. Go be a rock star.
The paper blurred, and Justice squeezed the rings so tight he could feel them cutting into his skin.
“Justice.”
He lifted his gaze. Some part of him wondered why Drake stood there, his mentor from long ago. “How did you get here?”
“I flew over with Sloane and Emily. Sloane went home with Liza to make sure she’s safe. The media is going wild. They know she had a miscarriage and you were arrested, but not anything else. Sloane and Emily arranged to get Liza checked out at the hospital once they land.”
“She left me.”
“I know.”
“While I was in jail. She left me there to rot and—”
“No. She begged Sloane to help you, on the phone and once we arrived here. She made me swear to stay with you. Sloane’s sending the plane back for us. The baby will be brought home too. Those arrangements have been made.” Drake poured out two shots of tequila and handed him one.
Justice nodded. “She wants me to let her go.”
“And?” Drake asked.
Justice got up, walking to the window. Darkness had fallen, and the slice of the Eiffel Tower he could see through the window was lit up against the Paris sky. “No.”
“No what?”
“I’m not letting her go. I’m all in. Now and always.”
Beth was his. He’d betrayed her, and he’d own that. But he wouldn’t let his wife go. Opening his palm, he looked at the rings in his hand. Tiny specks of his blood spattered the diamonds, yet they still sparkled in the lights from the tower. Their love was like that.
They’d lost and bled a little.
But their love was still there, still real enough to catch fire.
“I’ll fight to win her back.”
Until his very last breath.