***Alec***
The gate was open, gnarled and bent as though someone had rammed it. The men were not at the gate.
Alec flew up the drive.
Men on the front lawn, fighting. His men were grossly outnumbered.
The tires squealed as the car fishtailed to a stop. Engine running and car door left open, Alec ran toward the house.
Someone came at him. With one punch to the face, the man fell back.
Alec continued to hurtle forward. All he saw was his path to the front door. Men stepped into his path, and they fell.
Grunts of pain.
“Inside!” someone yelled, a familiar voice.
Alec burst through the open front door.
Ben knocked out. Hanna…she was on the floor.
Then he saw Adriane, Dean choking her. He lunged across the room. There was no thought, only the knowledge that Dean had to die—especially if Adriane…
***Adriane***
Dean disappeared in blackness. Everything was fuzzy and dark, all my senses, like I was trapped in fog, dense and suffocating.
Then Alec was there, one last gift from my subconscious. He stepped closer, visible but blurry from the dark vapor clinging to the space between us. His eyes were shadowed and his skin pale.
“I want you to be happy,” I said.
He didn’t speak. I knew he wasn’t going to, knew he wasn’t real. I told him what I wanted anyway, what I wanted to beg of him. “You have to move forward. You promised to be careful. You have to leave all of this behind. None of it’s your fault—your mother’s loss, your father’s rage…” I reached out to him. He looked close, but my hand only touched thick air. “And especially not my death.”
His expression changed, tightened with pain.
“You did everything you could, more than you should have.” I paused, and then added in a whisper, “You deserve love.”
Wind rushed over my face. I couldn’t see through the blackness. Alec was gone. Somewhere in my head, I was screaming for him to come back.
I was falling, through emptiness, falling. Plummeting through the fog. It felt familiar, somehow.
A jolting stop. Pain seared through my hands and knees. My neck torqued. It felt barely attached.
A rush of oxygen. Coughing. The taste of blood.
There were voices, distant, urgent.
Glass shattered, not like the tinkling of a broken bottle, but louder, thicker. Something scraping my skin.
The oxygen burned.
My vision was fuzzy, not black anymore. I was looking at the floor, at my hands.
A thump from behind me. My neck didn’t want to move. It hung limply. I was getting annoyed. I didn’t understand what was going on. I focused and managed to turn my head.
Dean fell to the patio. His thick body had been the thump. He moved to get up, to spring forward, to attack.
Alec’s eyes were black with rage. They weren’t his mother’s anymore. They were his father’s. He grabbed Dean and flung him into the brick wall of the house. It sounded like mortar cracking, or maybe it was Dean’s skull.
Then I saw the other man running toward the patio door, toward me. He still had Ben’s gun.
Alec was focused on Dean, and I knew he wasn’t capable of seeing anything else. The other man would be on him in only a few seconds; Alec wouldn’t see him in time.
My body didn’t want to work, to move. I had to.
The man was coming. He was big, much stronger than me. But there was no one else. Alec’s men hadn’t made it inside yet. There was no time.
The man was a few feet away. He didn’t even look at me, as if he saw me as no threat, just a girl who was half dead. He was going to hurt Alec.
No.
Just as the man was about to run past, I shifted and slammed a kick at his legs. Pain blasted through my shin.
He toppled through the broken French door head first, and more glass fell. He smacked to the wet surface of the patio. The gun flew from his hand and scraped along the brick until it clanked into the low wall. He didn’t move.
Still on the ground, I turned to look at Alec. He was clutching Dean’s neck, still focused on only him. He almost didn’t look human, more single-minded beast.
“Alec,” I rasped.
I crawled through the door. There was no glass in it anymore. Dean’s feet were dangling. He spluttered and then drew silence, like the silence I’d felt a minute ago. His feet wagged frantically.
Alec’s hands squeezed his neck. The rest of him was shaking, muscles so tightly clenched they were shivering from the strain.
He reached behind himself, under his jacket.
He pressed the gun to Dean’s head.
“No.” I stumbled to my feet and onto the patio.
The barrel pressed against Dean’s head. Alec’s eyes were blank. He wasn’t there, only the rage.
I touched Alec’s shoulder. “Please.”
The hammer clicked.
I rested my hand on his chest and stood on my toes to speak in his ear. “For me. Please.”
“He has to die.”
“You’re not a killer.” Then I added, “You’re not your father.”
There was something in his eyes, a slight change. He was in there—buried, but there.
I touched his forearm. “Let go.”
Dean slid down the brick. I heard his shoes hit the ground. His thick face was red, turning purple. He’d stopped struggling, stopped moving.
Alec closed his eyes. Dean fell out of his grip and slumped to the ground.
Then Vincent was there. He grabbed Dean and dragged him away from us, away from Alec.
I stepped in front of the statue that was Alec. He was barely breathing. It sounded like the oxygen would not be pushed through his stone frame.
I rested my hand on his face. His breathing started to grow easier.
My hand trailed down his arm. He let me take the gun, and Vincent took it from me.
I trailed my fingers over Alec’s skin, his temple, his cheek bone, his brow, his neck…
He opened his eyes. He looked at me, as if I was the most direct, the only path to sanity. I knew he saw only me. Nothing else existed, not the others now taking Dean away, not the hurried sounds from inside the house, only me.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “It’s okay now.”
“I didn’t kill him.” He sounded like he was trying to mentally review the events, like trying to remember a dream.
“No.”
His breath came out. He kept eye contact, and his breathing started to even.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Not a scratch.”
He took my hand from his neck and held up my arm. I did have scratches, several, from the shattered glass of the French door. He brushed his fingers lightly over my skin, likely searching for any embedded shards. He found none.
“See,” I said. “I’m fine.”
He tilted his head to see my neck and touched my skin lightly, carefully, with his fingertips. I realized it hurt. It was bruised, swollen.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Adriane, I—”
I touched his lips. “I’m safe. You saved me.”
His expression tightened, almost like he was mad at me, like he wanted me to understand something, wanted to make me understand.
“The others have Dean,” I said. “I’m safe now.”
He nodded once, not in agreement, more like placating.
He took a breath, as if forcing himself to move on. “Thank you. I would have…I would have murdered him. I couldn’t see anything else.”
I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. He held so tightly. We stood there, in silence, just holding on to each other.
“Um…Alec?”
His head twitched slightly, as if Anthony’s voice had woken him.
I lowered off my toes and relaxed my hold. Alec looked over at Anthony.
“Everything’s done,” Anthony said.
Alec’s voice was level. “Hanna and Ben.”
“Both fine. We called a doctor, that friend of Hanna’s. She gave us the number.”
I rested my head on Alec’s chest. She was awake and lucid.
“Dean,” Alec said.
“Conscious. They took him to the hospital, under guard.”
“The wire.”
“Yes, sir. He turned it on just in time. Garrison has it. We have everything under control. The house and grounds are secure. Garrison is waiting to talk to you.” He smiled a little. “But take your time.” He went back into the house.
Alec turned back to me. His hands trailed up my arms until they rested gently on either side of my face. He leaned closer and brushed his lips on my neck. My skin tingled.
And then my back was against the wall, exactly where Dean had been. Alec’s hands and lips caressed my skin, as if he was trying to make the bruising better, as if he could heal me. It felt like he was.
I sighed.
“Does it feel better?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
He slowed, and then murmured in my ear, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.” He was using that voice again, the one that meant goodbye, as though this was his last time kissing me.
“Alec—”
“I want you to see the doctor.” He took my hand and started leading me. It was like that first day, when he’d forced me into the car—for my own good.
“Alec,” I demanded.
His steps paused. “We’ll talk later,” he said, then continued walking. “Be careful.” He led me around the welcome mat of broken glass.
I tugged on his hand, but he wouldn’t stop.
Uniformed officers crowded the great room and dining room, speaking to men I guessed to be Alec’s other employees, the ones who’d attempted to defend the house. Several were nursing bloody injuries.
Zoe. She was in the dining room, and Vincent was sitting with her. He held her hand in his and dabbed alcohol on the gash on her arm. His touch seemed…gentle.
“Are they okay?” I murmured to Alec.
“I’m sure they’re all fine.”
“What about Hanna and Ben?” I didn’t see them anywhere.
He motioned to Vincent, and Vincent looked over. He said something to Zoe then stood and started toward Alec.
Then a man in a suit, who was standing by the fireplace, approached. “Finally decided to join us, huh?” His eyes were smiling, and he stood casually with his hands in his pockets.
“It’s nice to see you, Detective Garrison,” Alec said. “If you don’t mind, I would like for her to see the doctor first.”
“Of course. I can wait.” The man stayed where he was as Alec led me away.
Were police officers usually so easily pushed off? Perhaps this Detective Garrison was the friend Alec had spoken of.
Alec had me sit on the couch. “Dr. Schlesser,” he said, and a man with white tufts of hair came over and sat next to me. He started asking me questions—what hurt, how exactly had I fallen. Then he examined my arms and my neck. He was annoying. I felt fine. Alec didn’t sit next to me. He stayed several feet away and talked with Vincent and then made a phone call.
***Alec***
“Hello?” Bishop answered.
“The meeting didn’t go as planned, but everything is done,” Alec said. He couldn’t say much more right now, but he figured Bishop was quick enough to catch on.
A pause. “Is everyone all right?”
“They will be.”
“Miss Graham?”
“Will be fine.” Alec kept Adriane in his peripheral view, watched the doctor’s examination, but he couldn’t look directly at her.
“Good,” Bishop said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Not necessary.”
“You know, I’m surprised you never asked,” Bishop said, “about how I figured it out.”
Alec didn’t feel like talking, but he owed it to Bishop to hear him out on whatever he wanted to say. “It didn’t matter how you knew, just that you did.”
“It was your schedule.”
Alec had no idea what Bishop was talking about. That was the only thing he didn’t like about him. Alec was used to being able to see all the angles of a conversation.
“I’d already been looking at the disappearance of a young woman from my father’s accountant’s office,” Bishop said. “Then I started looking at you. When she disappeared, your schedule changed. Your work hours used to be regimented—and matched hers almost exactly. I figured a few more things from there, but that was the connection I was looking for.”
“Damn.” His fucking schedule had given him away?
There was a grin in Bishop’s voice. “Thank you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Alec noticed as Adriane tensed slightly when the doctor tilted her chin to look more closely at her neck. He looked over and saw that Adriane was watching him.
He looked away. “So, what’s next, Smith or Jones?” Surely, Bishop would be leaving now, and switching names and identities.
“Not sure. I’ve grown fond of this town. I might stick around.”
Alec was careful not to show his surprise. “That’ll be interesting.”
“And besides,” Bishop said, “I’m tired of boring names.”
“I’m sure.”
“At least the family has retired the name Cooper.”
Alec paused. He’d heard this in Bishop’s voice, the laughter at his own joke, far above the heads of the people around him.
“As in D. B.?” Alec asked. The only FBI unsolved airline heist?
Bishop laughed. “You are quick, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll see you around. Thanks for everything, Alec.” He ended the call.
Alec held the phone to his ear for a few additional seconds. He wasn’t sure he could face Adriane yet.
***Adriane***
“You were lucky. The damage could’ve been much worse.” The doctor was talking to me, but I was trying to hear Alec’s conversation.
Alec slipped his phone into his breast pocket and looked over. “Does she need anything? The hospital, tests?”
“She was lucky,” the doctor repeated.
Alec’s tone was a demand. “Are you sure?”
The doctor smiled a little. “Just don’t let her do anything strenuous.” He looked at me. “No motorcycle racing or deep sea diving for at least three weeks.”
I tried to muster a smile. It withered and died on my face.
“Uh,” the doctor said, “I had better check on my other patients.”
“Are they all right?” I asked.
“Just some bruising, and Ben has a couple of broken ribs.” He patted my hand. “I’m taking care of them. Don’t worry.” He stood and walked away.
I looked up at Alec. “I want to see Hanna.”
“I’m afraid it’ll have to wait a little longer.” He glanced at Detective Garrison now approaching.
Detective Garrison took the armchair closest to me.
I sighed and turned to face him, ready for the barrage of questions.
Amazingly, it was not as difficult as I’d feared. Detective Garrison was patient and kind. I told him what I found at work, and then what happened today. Alec remained standing, on the other side of the coffee table from me. The table felt like the Great Wall of China.
Detective Garrison’s questions for Alec were much more extensive. He already seemed to have a grasp of the situation. I figured Alec had kept him somewhat in the loop.
Alec went through everything in a calm and level tone. He sounded like he was recounting the steps to assembling a piece of furniture. He skillfully left out a few details. Detective Garrison either didn’t notice or allowed the omissions.
“What did you find when you returned home?” Detective Garrison asked.
Alec’s jaw was clenched so tightly I wasn’t sure how he could speak. “He was choking her.”
“Councilman Dean?”
“Yes.”
Detective Garrison nodded.
“Do you think it will be enough?” Alec asked.
“The wire, I think, will do it. Otherwise, it’s mostly your word against his.” He sounded doubtful that people would take Alec’s word above a city councilman’s. “Why was he wearing a wire, anyway?”
“I was possibly going to need his assistance today. He was prepared for the call.”
“Ben?” I asked Alec.
He barely looked at me. “He turned it on as soon as he heard the commotion outside.”
As Garrison and Alec talked, the uniformed officers began completing their questioning of Alec’s men. The doctor left, and told Alec on his way out that Hanna and Ben were sleeping and that they should take it easy for the next few days.
The house emptied, and the sun faded to leave more shadow than light, just like in Alec’s eyes.
Alec told Detective Garrison goodbye, and the front door closed.
I was standing about ten feet behind him, between the entry and the great room. “Is it time to talk?”
He didn’t turn.
Slowly, I approached. I took his hand, gently holding only his fingers.
Without facing me, he looked down at our hands.
A long pause.
“It’s late,” he said, “and today has been intense. You should sleep.”
“Will you stay with me?”
He looked at me over his shoulder.
“I’m scared without you,” I said.
“You’re safe now. Dean was taken into custody, and all of his men were arrested.”
“I’m still scared.” My fear did not stem from Dean, or anyone else. I’d been wrong all those times when I told Alec he didn’t scare me. Only he could terrify me like this.
“Please.” I stepped back toward the stairs, holding on to his hand.
He looked at me for several seconds. Then he took a step.
He let me lead him upstairs and to my room.
I stood behind him and removed his jacket. He didn’t move, didn’t help. Then he took my hand and pulled me around in front of him.
“I’m tired,” I said.
He nodded. “You’ve been through much.” I had the feeling he was talking about more than today. Perhaps it was something about my father, about what Dean told me. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that, the realization that my father had been murdered. It wasn’t an accident; someone had purposefully taken him away from me. In the end, though, I supposed it was all the same. My father was gone. There was still a blank face in my mind of the man in the car who hit him and ran. The only difference was that the person, whoever Dean had hired, had done it on purpose. In a warped kind of way, it almost felt easier like this—my father died for a reason, not because some idiot was driving drunk. He died because he’d stood up for what was right.
I looked up at Alec, at his haggard face. He needed rest more than I did.
“I don’t want to talk tonight,” I said.
“You don’t have to. Sleep. I’ll take you home in the morning.”
He’ll take me home. His words hurt more than “I don’t want you” or “get out”. I knew they hurt him, too. I just didn’t know how to fix it. I wasn’t smart enough or strong enough—I didn’t know what to do.
His voice was soft. “Lie down.”
“Stay with me.”
“I’ll be right here.”
I climbed up to the middle of the bed and held my hand out. “Please.”
He looked at my hand. Then he sat on the edge of the bed. He did not take my hand.
I slid closer. My arms gently around him, I pulled him with me as I lay down. He seemed to give up, at least for now. He rested his head on my chest, and I stroked his hair.
My sleep was like the waves during the storm. My fear refused to release me. But Alec did release me. I swore I could remember feeling the exact moment when he left. He was gone when I woke. He hadn’t said goodbye like he always did. He’d simply left.
As soon as I was conscious of his absence, I pulled myself out of bed and went out to the hall. He was nowhere in view. I moved quickly down the stairs. No one was around.
I tried out back. Maybe he decided to take a walk, to burn off some of his tension. The welcome mat of glass had been cleaned up and plastic stretched across the empty expanse in the French door. He was not in the yard. I moved toward the tree line, to the path that led to the clearing.
“Adriane.”
I whipped around at the sound of a male voice.
It was the bulky one, James.
“I’m supposed to drive you home,” he said.
“Where’s Alec?”
“He left.”
“Where?”
His tone was apologetic. “I don’t know.”
“I want to see him.”
“He said he won’t be back for a while.” He paused. “That usually means not to bother him.”
“I have to pack.” And I would move slowly at it, kill time until Alec returned.
“Hanna’s doing it.”
“She’s supposed to be resting.”
He smiled a little. “You know she’s not about to lay around.” His attempt at lightening the atmosphere failed pathetically, like an umbrella in a tornado.
He let the smile slip off his face. “I’m sorry. Um, Alec said to make sure you—”
“I know.” I walked past him into the house.
Anthony was carrying two bags out the front door to the black sedan parked in the front drive.
I turned to James who had followed me in. “I want to see Hanna.”
“She’s resting. Alec said she can call you once you’re settled back home.”
“You said she was packing my things.”
“She’s done. Alec asked her not to exert her—”
I walked away from him. I didn’t want to scream in his face—he was just the messenger.
No other options remained. Alec had taken them all. I slipped on my shoes that had been left by the front door and walked out to the car. Anthony closed the trunk and then held the back door for me.
James was in the driver’s seat starting the engine a few seconds later.
I stared out the window at the wild trees that lined the road, just like the day I’d first come here.