Secrets and Sins: Chayot: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) (16 page)

The sob she’d fought broke free, followed by another. And another. The grief crashed over her, the waves breaking over and over. And no demons found her.

Not in his arms.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“I hate leaving you,” Chay growled.

Aslyn sat up on Chay’s bed and crossed her legs lotus-style.

“I’m o-kay,” she drawled. “Emotional storm passed. Besides, it’s just for a few hours. And Riley’s here with me, right?”

He studied her as he exchanged his shirt for a fresh one. Probably because she’d blubbered all over his other shirt only a half hour ago. “Yes,” he replied, answering her question. “I still don’t like it,” he murmured, slipping on a shoulder holster. Her heart lurched as she stared at the ugly butt of the gun before he concealed it with a suit jacket. She’d already lost one person she cared about to violence today, and the thought of Chay even needing to carry a weapon scared the shit out of her. She shook her head as if she could physically remove the images of a bloody, sheet-draped body.

“All right, I’m heading back out,” he said, thankfully interrupting her morbid thoughts. “Rafe should be dropping off a copy of the security footage to the police department right now. I’m meeting him at the office so we can view the backup copy there. If you need me, call from the landline or Riley’s cell. Both are secure.”

“Okay,” she said, forcing a normalcy into her voice. “I’ll be fine. See you when you get back.”

He stared at her for several long moments before bending and pressing a kiss to her forehead. When he left, she exhaled a pent-up breath, her shoulders slumping.

I hate leaving you.
One day Chay would say those words to her, and then turn around and do just that—leave. Walk away. Once this nightmare ended, he would return to his life, and she…

Shit, she didn’t know what she would return to.

She’d healed, could play music again, had even heard strains of a new song whisper through her mind. That had been her main goal for six long months—since Quinton’s attack. Yet now, staring at a man who’d engrafted himself so permanently on her heart and soul she couldn’t imagine a time when he hadn’t been there, the music, the career, wasn’t enough. Especially now that she knew how short life was.
Oh God, Liam…

She pinched the bridge of her nose, tears stinging her eyes before she inhaled deep breaths and beat the moisture back. She couldn’t reminisce about Liam now—not at this moment when the grief and rage of losing him pulsed like a fresh wound inside her heart. But the images of his death served to remind her of one thing. She’d wrapped her life around her career, but music couldn’t hold her at night, protect her. Music couldn’t arouse a longing and desire so deep and strong only one man could satisfy them. Music couldn’t sit with her, talk with her, laugh with her…fix bourbon-laced tea for her. Music couldn’t make love to her so passionately she emerged changed, awakened. New.

Make love.

And she thought it without a thud of dread in her chest. At some point the “fucking” had ceased being mere physical to encompassing all of it—the physical, emotional, mental.

But in the end, he would allow her to return to a big, empty house on the West Coast hundreds of miles away from him…loving him.

She dropped her hand to her lap, her head bowed.

Chay had once warned her she wasn’t a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em kind of woman, and he wasn’t a relationship man. She’d fooled herself into believing she could handle sex with no strings attached. But she’d been blind while his eyes had been wide open. He’d never lied to her about having anything more to give her than his body. Whether that was true or not didn’t matter when he accepted it as the truth.

“God, I’m such an idiot. A flipping idiot,” she muttered, unfolding her legs and scooting off the mattress.

Everything in her screamed
fight!
Fight for what they could have. Fight for the man he’d revealed to her in the last week.

Fight for
them
.

Yet the reality remained. He might trust her with his deepest secret…he might even have feelings for her, but he didn’t believe himself worthy of love. Of her. He’d said as much. Yes, she would be willing to make the sacrifice to stay with him, but last night had revealed something to her. Chay was a private man because he had secrets. She recalled every article she’d read about him on the Internet—remembered the many she hadn’t clicked on. For someone hiding such a huge secret, the media attention must’ve been hell.

I don’t know how you stand living your life under the microscope.

His words from last week haunted her now. Her life included that microscope—it was part and parcel of what she did, who she was. And if he were with her, the scrutiny would spread to him. Maybe that intrusion, that spotlight, was too much to ask of him.

Maybe it was too much for him to ever give her.

“Shit,” she whispered.

It seemed when a woman faced a life-altering truth the world around her should shift, too. Like the sun should beam purple rays instead of yellow. Or birds should have fins and fish should be flitting around tree branches. But no, the world remained the same, puttering along as always while her existence had taken a header.

“Hi, Riley,” she greeted the bodyguard as she entered the living room. He glanced up from the cell phone he held in his hand and offered her a smile that transformed his face from solemn to movie-star handsome. “I’m going to fix something to eat. You want some?”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you cooking?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Well,” she drawled. “I intended to brew a pot of coffee and was counting on you to cook.”

Riley loosed a crack of laughter. “Deal.”

Time passed quickly with the laconic but amusing guard. His dry wit helped her to pretend, even for a few minutes, that he was a friend over for a meal and not a sentry hired to protect her against an unknown lethal threat.

As she cleaned the last of their dishes, Riley strolled into the kitchen, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Hold on, let me ask her.” He arched an eyebrow. “Rafe wants to know if you forgot to set the alarm at your house any time on Wednesday.”

She frowned.
Did I?
I don’t think…
Aw hell
. “That morning I left for Chay’s office so quickly, I don’t think I set it. I—” She winced. “Damn. I’m sorry. Why? Did he find something?”

Riley held up a finger and relayed her message to Rafe. “Okay. Got it. Talk to you soon.”

“What did he say?”

“He—” The loud peal and vibration of her cell against the counter cut off Riley’s explanation. She grabbed a dish towel, quickly dried her hands, and dove for the phone.

“Hello?” she breathed.

“Hello, Aslyn.” Fear punched the air from her lungs. Him. That electronic voice.
Liam’s killer
. “I’ve missed you.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond past the terror squeezing her throat in a vise grip.

“That bastard you’ve fucked has kept us apart long enough. This time you’re going to come to me, Aslyn. Right now.”

“No,” she whispered. Riley scowled, stepped closer.

“Oh, you’re going to do what I say.” Even through the camouflage, she could detect the purr in his voice. “And before you think to tell me ‘no’ again, I have someone who’d like to speak to you.”

A moment later a woman’s voice echoed in her ear. “Hello? Hello? Is someone there?”

Before Aslyn could answer the woman, the voice that had a starring role in her nightmares came back on the line. “That was your precious Chay’s mother, Aslyn. I’ve been having a good time with her.” He chuckled, the sound dark, evil. “I’d suggest you meet me at her house in thirty minutes.” He rattled off an address that was located somewhere in a neighborhood called Randolph. Her frantic mind steadied enough to grapple onto the information. “And come alone. Or Chay will get his mother back in pieces. Thirty minutes.”

“Wait,” she said, desperation roughening her voice. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Figure it out,” he stated flatly. “GPS. A cab. I don’t care. Get here.”

Seconds after the call ended, she still pressed the cell to her ear, her arm locked in place.

Oh God
. He had Chay’s mother. How had he—? No, she didn’t have time to think about the hows right now. She had to get to the rental house. Now. Before the asshole stalking her hurt that woman. Christ, Chay had already lost his stepfather; she couldn’t let him lose his mother if she could do anything to prevent it. Even if it meant placing herself in the hands of a psycho.

The thought broke her free from her paralysis. She shot past Riley. She had to get out of here. Every second ticked by like the timer on a detonator.
Purse. Jesus, where was her purse?

“Aslyn.” Riley gripped her upper arm, halting her frantic search. “What’s going on? Who was that on the phone?”

“The stalker,” she rasped. “He has Chay’s mother. I have thirty minutes to meet him at her home in Randolph, or he’s going to kill her. Please, Riley. We have to go.” She’d been ordered to come alone, but damn that. She wasn’t a fool.

“Aslyn, calm down. We have to call Chay—”

“Of course we do. Call him on the way to the parking deck. Let’s go. He gave me a half hour to get there, but I don’t trust that sicko not to speed up the deadline.” She threw this over her shoulder as she raced for the front door.

“Shit,” Riley grumbled behind her. But at least he was behind her. “Give me a minute.”

She impatiently waited near the door, her nerves dancing under her skin. Riley tucked his phone between his shoulder and ear, then picked up a shoulder holster off the small, decorative table next to the entrance. With economic movements, he shrugged into the harness, checked the black, intimidating weapon in the pocket, and drew on a jacket.

“Damn it. Voicemail,” he murmured. “Chay, this is Riley. Aslyn just received a call from the perp. He claims to have your mother hostage at her house and gave Aslyn a time limit of thirty minutes to arrive. She’s determined to head over there, so I’m going with her and taking Jared as backup. I’m calling Sebastian and Craig to head over, too, and the Canton police. Meet us there, but come in with caution. Hit me back when you get this message.” He ended the call and immediately tapped in another number before speaking again. “Jared. We’re on the move. Meet us in the parking lot. I’ll give you the details when we meet. Aslyn and I will be there in two minutes.” He made two more calls, relaying the same message.

He leveled a hard, uncompromising stare on her. “Stay behind me, and if I tell you to do something, do it quickly and without argument, okay?”

She jerked her head in agreement.

“Good,” he stated, his hand resting on the butt of the gun. “Let’s go.”

Cautiously, he opened the door but motioned for her to remain inside the apartment until he’d checked the corridor. Satisfied, he waved her forward. Fast but steady, he ushered her toward the stairwell instead of the elevators. They descended the six flights quickly, and by the time Riley pushed through the parking deck exit, her breath whistled in and out of her lungs. When she’d been touring and performing, exercise had been part of her daily routine. But two months of recouping from the surgery and infection, and another four months of twenty-minute walks, hadn’t prepared her for the hurried rush down the gray, sterile stairwell.

“Remember,” he glanced at her over his shoulder, “stay behind me.”

His green eyes had flattened, all traces of the laid-back man from upstairs gone. In his place was the faintly menacing bodyguard capable of taking a man out if he had to.

He eased the heavy steel door open and stole into the parking deck.

“Riley.” A tall blond man with cold brown eyes approached them. Aslyn recognized him as the other man in the supermarket parking lot who’d been with Riley in the sedan.

“Hey, Jared. We’re heading to Chay’s mother’s house.”

Jared nodded, and the two men shifted forward, forming a formidable wall in front of her. Tension strung them tight, but both moved with the silence of a large predator, sure-footed and quick. She bore a hole in the middle of Riley’s back, glancing neither left nor right, just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping up with him and his partner. She couldn’t wait to finally climb inside the car and recover some semblance of safety…

Theew. Theew
.

The suppressed percussions registered seconds before first Riley then Jared stiffened. And crumpled to the ground.

The scream lodged in her throat. She stared at the ever-widening spots of crimson on Riley’s chest and Jared’s stomach. A strangled gurgle echoed in the deathly quiet parking deck. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged the animalistic sound came from her. She jerked her head up. Met the long, narrow barrel of a silencer.

Her gaze swept past the jacketed arm holding the gun to the person who’d just shot the men protecting her.

Black and gold dots swam before her vision as shock sucker-punched the wind from her chest.

No
.

She stumbled back a step, two.

No
.

“Liam.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Since we have a specific day and time frame, it shouldn’t take me long to find the section of the video we need on the security system’s backup server.” Rafe pushed open the door to their suite, his long strides carrying him across the reception area.

“Good,” Chay murmured. He needed this—the stalking, the danger, the terrorizing—to be over with. For Aslyn’s sake and peace of mind.

“Hey, Chay,” Sara called as they passed her desk. “Something came for you today. I put it on your desk.”

“Thanks, Sara.” He strode to his office, stripping off his jacket and dropping it over his chair before picking up the large manila envelope on top of his desk. Barely glancing down at the piece of mail, he exited his office and headed to Rafe’s. Rubbing a hand over his face and jaw, he dropped into the chair in front of his friend’s desk and waited for Rafe to boot up his computer.

He sighed, a fist tightening in his chest as he thought of the woman he’d left behind at the condominium. He’d told her she was his savior. He’d meant it. Before she’d come into his life, it’d been bleak, cold, lonely. Even though he had loving friends and family, Chay only allowed them so far, because he feared tainting them with his guilt, shame, and secrets. Intimacy had been a concept, a gift for other people, not him. Not when intimacy demanded he permit someone within the dark places.

Not only had she entered the shadows, but she’d cast light into them. They weren’t banished—they might never be completely gone—but because of her heart, her tenderness, her fierceness, he didn’t fear their power any longer. Something else had lassoed and tamed the strength the past had wielded over him.

Love.

He couldn’t lie to himself. At some point while he held her as she cried in his arms, he’d admitted his love for her. If he were honest, from the very first instant he’d glimpsed her sitting on the back porch of her rental home, this moment was inevitable. He’d begun falling at that moment. And though he’d clung to and grasped at any foothold to prevent the freefall, it’d happened.

He loved Aslyn.

The issues that had seemed so insurmountable and huge just days before paled in comparison. Geography could be negotiated. The anonymous life he’d desired might’ve been quiet, but it would be empty without her. And as long as Aslyn accepted and loved him, he could give a fuck about the media.

If
she loved him.

God, let her love him. Because he couldn’t let her go.

He drummed his fingers on the envelope in his lap.

“I’ll have it up any minute now,” Rafe assured him, his fingers tapping across the keyboard.

“Thanks, Rafe.” He absently turned the mail over, noticing his name in bold, black marker. No return address, though. He frowned, smoothed a hand over the top, and cautiously handled the package. Paper. Thick paper, like maybe a small stack of documents. Nothing else seemed to be enclosed. Leaning forward, he grabbed the letter opener off the desk, opened the flap, and removed the contents.

A letter—with photos. The paper crinkled in his fist, but he could still read the words. “She’s mine. You can’t stop me from taking what’s mine.” Dread curdled in his veins as he shifted the sheet of paper. Then wished he hadn’t. Jesus Christ. More photos of Aslyn. In her bedroom, coming out of the shower, preparing coffee in the kitchen, and reading in the living room. But in each picture, her eyes had been gouged out with some kind of instrument. Red ink was slashed across her throat, imitating bleeding gashes.

“Rafe,” he rasped. In seconds, his friend stood beside him.

“Fuck,” Rafe growled. “Are you kidding me?” He picked up the pictures and shuffled through them, his mouth firmed in a grim line as he studied the images. His eyes narrowed. “Something’s off with these…” He rubbed a knuckle over the scar bisecting his eyebrow, the habitual gesture telegraphing his quick mind was running. “I remember the other pictures she received. These,” he tapped the top photo, “aren’t the same. Just from scale and perspective distortion, I would say those first images were shot with a long-focus lens. But if these were also taken from outside of the house with a telephoto lens, the angles, view, and lighting would’ve been different. Instead, the perspective and angles are high, as if shot from above. Like a shelf or even the ceiling in some of them. I could be wrong, but the pictures seemed to be taken from
inside
the house. Maybe by a web or spy cam.”

Chay straightened, reeling back against his chair. ”That’s impossible. We swept the place when you installed the alarm system.”

Rafe nodded. “I know. Which means at some point this guy was in the house afterward. Maybe when Aslyn left the house for an errand or a jog. Riley and Jared would’ve tailed her, and the stalker could’ve entered then.”

“That means he had access,” Chay murmured. A terrible seed took root and niggled at his brain…

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed. “And it would also explain how her stalker knew she hadn’t returned to the house after he’d tried to kidnap her. The first call to her phone demanding to know where she was came Friday morning, because he knew she wasn’t there.”

Aslyn had told him her attacker had called her a whore, said she’d “whored” for him. The night before the attempted kidnapping, he’d gone down on her on the piano…

“Son of a bitch,” he growled. It made sense. It made a horrible kind of sense.

Rafe rounded his desk, plucked up his cell. “Let me call Riley and see if Aslyn forgot to set the alarm at any time after we installed the system.” While his friend placed the call to the bodyguard, a violent need to return to the safe house surged within him. Unease had settled in his heart like a boulder that refused to be moved. The need to see Aslyn, touch her, reassure himself she was okay rode him hard.

“Okay, thanks. Stay near your phone.” Rafe dropped the cell on his desk and shot forward in his seat, gaze focused on the computer monitor. “Aslyn thinks she didn’t set the alarm Wednesday morning. So that gives us a time frame to work within.” His fingers flew over the keyboard.

Chay strode around Rafe’s desk and paused next to his friend’s chair. “You’re pulling up the backup video to see if you can catch whoever installed the cameras?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and an instant later, the video feed appeared on the screen. Several minutes passed as Rafe fast-forwarded to Wednesday morning. They watched Aslyn leave the house and descend the front steps. The timer in the corner of the footage showed a half hour had elapsed before a tall, narrow-shouldered figure entered the camera’s range.

Shock echoed through Chay.

“That’s Liam.” Aslyn’s manager paused at the front door, glanced around, then cautiously turned a key in the front door and entered the house.

“What the hell?” His fingers curled into the leather back of Rafe’s chair. “I thought Liam hadn’t arrived in Boston until Monday morning. When he came to the office, he acted as if he’d just arrived from Los Angeles.”

“And if he’d been in town since Wednesday, why didn’t he let Aslyn know? What would a couple of days matter? And why wouldn’t he have stayed at the rental house since it’s his property? Doesn’t make sense. But I’ll call the detective so they can do a sweep of the house and find out if those cameras are still there. If so, they might be able to collect some trace evidence.” Rafe fast-forwarded through the remaining hours. They saw Liam exit and Aslyn arrive back at the house. No one else entered the home. Rafe’s fingers flew across the computer’s keyboard, and soon another shot of the porch appeared. “Okay, here’s this morning.”

All of Chay’s attention focused on the monitor, he studied it, silent. Seconds passed with no activity except an empty stoop. Then a man with a page-boy cap and a suit jacket appeared at the door. He rang the bell, and before long, Liam answered.

“They seem to know one another,” Rafe remarked as the two men shook hands and disappeared inside the house.

Chay grunted. Rafe zipped forward, and when he clicked play again, thirty minutes had passed on the counter in the corner of the monitor. The man who’d arrived on the doorstep now exited the house.

“We caught the murderer on camera,” Rafe breathed.

“Damn.” Chay scrubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. “
Damn
.” He stared at the screen, which Rafe had paused. The back of Liam’s killer filled the screen. He peered harder, squinted. “Something’s not right,” he whispered. Again, that small voice nagged him, insisted he missed a detail, some clue. And it was right there. So close… “Shit,” he snapped. “Rafe, go back to when the guy first arrived at the door.”

Rafe didn’t question him, just rewound the video.

“Stop. Look.” Chay’s heart pounded in his chest like a hammer against an anvil. “Under his hat.” He pointed at the man’s curly, dark hair that brushed his collar. “Now go ahead to when he leaves.” After Rafe paused again on that shot, Chay tapped the screen. “Look at his hair.”

Rafe leaned forward, studied the screen. “Oh fuck me. Are you kidding?”

“No,” Chay said, voice grim as the truth yawned before them like a horrible, terrifying chasm. His gaze didn’t move from the monitor. The same page-boy cap, the same jacket. But the short, conservatively cut hair under the hat did not belong to the man who’d entered the home a half hour earlier.

“Liam,” Rafe snarled.

Chay met Rafe’s stunned, furious eyes. “He’s Aslyn’s stalker.” He reached in his pocket for his cell. “I have to call Riley.” He patted his pants pocket, then remembered the phone was in his jacket pocket. Swearing under his breath, he strode from the room and recovered his cell. “Shit,” he snapped, glancing down at the screen as he reentered Rafe’s office. “I missed a call from him. Why the hell didn’t he call here?” he murmured as he retrieved his messages. The bodyguard’s deep voice came over the line. Seconds later, he lowered the cell, dread and panic churning in his gut.

“What?” Rafe demanded.

“The UNSUB called Aslyn and told her he had Mom. Aslyn insisted on going to meet him at her house.” He quickly dialed the bodyguard’s number, waited. “Damn it,” Chay hissed when an electronic voice asked him to leave a message. He pressed the end call button. “I can’t get Riley. He doesn’t answer. It just rings and then goes to voicemail.”

The terror grew, expanded, its tentacles wrapping around his heart and organs. Deliberately, he thrust the fear down, smothered it. He couldn’t afford to give in to emotion now. Not when his mother’s and Aslyn’s lives could be in danger. Later—once she was in his arms again—would he surrender to the panic and terror of almost losing her and the only family member he had left.

Because she
would
be in his arms again.

“We need to find out every move Liam has made since he arrived in Boston. Even a couple of days before,” Chay said, his mind racing.
Where was Liam? If cornered, where would he go?
“Can you pull his credit card history, rental car records? Let’s see if he has other rental properties. We know he can’t take her back to the house in Canton, because it’s now a crime scene and the first place we’d look. If he planned to snatch Aslyn, he must have had a contingency plan in place. We have to find out that plan.”

“On it.” Rafe’s fingers flew across the keyboard. Experience assured Chay that Rafe wouldn’t take long to unearth the information. He was the absolute best at what he did—which included hacking systems and locating back doors into programs. Still, with Aslyn’s and his mother’s lives possibly in the balance, the minutes seemed to crawl by.

While Rafe worked, Chay tried calling Riley again. No answer. He tried calling the landline in the condominium. No answer.
Damn
. The bodyguard would never have his phone off or out of his reach. Not while on a job. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Got it.” Rafe shot to his feet, his office chair rolling back and slapping the wall. “He hasn’t used his credit card since buying a one-way ticket to Boston—nearly two weeks ago—so he’s deliberately staying off the grid. But he has two more rental properties here. One in Dorchester and the other in Brighton. My bet is on Brighton. More privacy, less densely populated.”

“We’ll take the Brighton house, and I’ll have Leah and Xavier check out the Dorchester residence. We can send Shane and Niall to your mother’s house in Randolph just in case.” Chay punched a number into the cell’s keypad as he and Rafe stalked from the office. “Can you call the Charlestown building and ask them to check the condo and parking deck? See if Riley and Aslyn are there or—” Just as his thumb hovered over the call button, the cell rang.

Jared.

Thank Christ
.

“Jared,” Chay barked, fear sharpening his voice. “I’ve been trying to call Riley—”

“Chay.” He could barely hear the bodyguard’s low rasp. Alarm set his heart pounding. “Me and Riley… We’ve been shot.” A wet cough filled his ear. “Aslyn. He’s got her. She’s gone.”