Secrets and Sins: Chayot: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) (18 page)

High, keening whimpers scraped from her throat. She fumbled with the lock, ordering herself not to look back. Not to dare look back. As if through a wall of glue, she struggled to twist the lock.

“Please, please, please,” she begged, crying. A sob escaped as the tumbler finally turned, and she wrenched the door open.

Or rather it burst open.

She stumbled back, toppling to the floor. Her tailbone slapped the hardwood, and she cried out. Blinking, she stared up into Chay’s face.

Oh thank God
.

Relief, joy, and love poured through her, knocking her back onto her elbows.

“Chay,” she croaked. The same emotions swamping her flashed across his face. He crouched down beside her, but an instant later, fury darkened his features.

“Chay!” Rafe suddenly appeared in the doorway, yelling out a warning at the same moment Chay pounced to his feet.

His arm whipped out, his fist connecting with Liam’s throat. He jerked his knee up and plowed it into the other man’s midsection. Again, the knife tumbled from Liam’s hand, hitting the floor and sliding several feet. Chay drove an elbow into Liam’s back, and her former manager crashed to the ground with a groan.

Chay stood over him, fists clenched. Fury hummed off his rigid body. If Rafe hadn’t stepped forward and pulled him back, she imagined him finishing the job.

God
damn
, that was hot.

Moaning, and her ass protesting, she shoved herself to her feet. Chay met her halfway, pulling her up and into his arms.

“I knew you would come.” She kissed his collarbone, the base of his neck. Wherever she could reach. “I never doubted you would find me. My hero.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Aslyn thanked the detective as he ushered her into the Brighton police station’s lobby, which was surprisingly crowded at ten o’clock at night. After hours of being interviewed by the police, weariness weighed her down, and she longed to scoot the prostitute with the pleather micro-mini and shredded fishnet stockings over so she could sit. And not move for about twelve hours.

Instead she scanned the congested area…and didn’t find him.

Disappointment added to the fatigue, and she glanced at the prostitute wondering if she was the friendly sort or not. Maybe she could ask her where she’d bought those stockings…

A din of voices flooded into the lobby, and her head jerked up at the clamor.

“No comment,” Chay called grimly over his shoulder before closing the front entrance door shut behind him and cutting off her glimpse of the loud throng of reporters and photographers outside the station.

She gaped at him, even as her hungry gaze ran over his tall frame. Her heart, which had sank in regret upon not initially seeing him in the lobby, soared to the back of her throat. And lodged there. Even when he spotted her, and strode toward her, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

Not until she was in Chay’s arms.

The air burst from her lungs, and his chest was the recipient of the blast. She shuddered, and his arms tightened around her. If she could find her voice she could explain the tremor wasn’t out of exhaustion, but gratefulness. Relief. Even in the middle of a police station lobby that smelled like sweat and disinfectant, she was home.

She was safe.

She was home.

So much had happened in the hours since Chay and Rafe had burst into the house where Liam had held her captive. The police had arrived and carted Liam off. She’d been examined by the paramedics, then escorted to the station where she’d given her statement for what seemed like hours. The detectives had asked her to go over what happened several times, and by the time they’d given the okay to leave, her brain felt liquefied and her tongue numb.

She tightened her arms around him, her nails digging into his back. He was her lifeboat in the midst of the grief and exhaustion that battered her in relentless waves.

“We have
got
to stop meeting like this,” she mumbled against his chest.

He snorted then, burying his fingers in her hair, tilted her head back. His hazel eyes searched her face before coming back to meet her gaze.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

She chuckled, the sound humorless and tired. “No. Not even close. I’ve seen two men shot in front of me. Was kidnapped by my best friend, who I discovered is not just a deranged stalker but a murderer. Two of his victims being my parents. I’m so far from okay, I don’t know if I can ever find my way back to that zip code.”

“You’ll find it, baby,” he assured her, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “I’ll help you. We’ll find it together.”

Damn tears. Damn freakin’ tears. She should be cried out by now.

“You can’t make me cry,” she complained, voice hoarse. “I’m an ugly crier.”

He brushed his lips across her forehead. “I won’t hold it against you,” he promised. “You should know that Riley and Jared are going to be okay. The apartment security team found them in time. They both lost a lot of blood, and Riley’s chest wound is slightly more critical than Jared’s, but their surgeries were successful. They’ll make a full recovery.”

“Oh thank God,” she breathed, clutching his shirt in her fists. “I was so worried. I thought…” She shook her head. “Thank God.”

“Are you ready to go?”

Sighing, she eased out of his arms, glancing at the entrance. Chay followed the direction of her gaze.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “A detective came out right before they released you and let me know so I could pull the SUV up front. Rafe’s waiting. You’ll be okay.”

That wasn’t her worry. Being in the national and international spotlight for years, she was accustomed to the press. Chay’s experience with the press—especially after the revelation of the murder—hadn’t endeared them to him. He didn’t want to deal or live with the scrutiny of a nosey reporter or telephoto lens. And both came along with her like matching shoes and purse.

“If you want we could probably avoid going out there. I’m sure the police have a rear entrance…” She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the door they’d just escorted her from.

“Hey.” He captured her chin between his fingers and turned her head around. “I appreciate your concern, but running a gamut of reporters is something I should get used to. Besides, my ‘no comment’ accompanied with a death stare works…for the most part.” The corner of his mouth hiked in a half smile. “Also, dealing with them means having you, and I can’t lose you.” As if unable to not touch her, his hand skimmed over her hair, her cheek, her lips. Hope, fledgling hope, stuttered in her chest. “I need you. You’ve brought joy, laughter…and love into my life. I didn’t believe I could have that. Didn’t believe it was meant for me. Until you.”

“Chay,” she breathed.

There was such heat, such warmth in his eyes. And truth. Absolute truth. She closed her eyes. Inhaled his scent. Moved her hand and covered his heart.

“No, look at me. Look at me, baby,” he urged. When she obeyed, he said, “I love you. I don’t have the pretty words or long speeches. All I have is, I love you. I’ll follow you to Los Angeles. I’ll stand beside you whether it’s in the shadow or in the spotlight. I’ll be your family and give you mine. You’ll never be alone again.” He rested his forehead on hers. “And neither will I.”

No pretty words? Had he really said that?
He’d just cracked her heart right down the middle.

“When Liam locked me in that closet, all I could think about was staying alive so I could tell you how much I loved you. Damn it.” She laughed, the sound a bit waterlogged. “You stole my thunder.”

She rose on her toes, erased the last few inches separating them, and kissed him. She poured her love and happiness into the caress, sweeping inside his mouth to taste him, savor him. Worship him.

“I waited for you,” she whispered against his lips. “And you were worth it.”

For the first time in a year and a half, a dark, menacing cloud didn’t loom over her head. She was free. Free from looking over her shoulder. Free from harassment. Free from terror.

Free to love.

And be loved.

Epilogue

“Puerto Rico in the fall and a concert by a world-famous pianist,” Mal said. He shot a side glance at Chay. “I knew being your friend would pay off one day.”

“Actually, I think being friends with Aslyn has benefited us more,” Gabe drawled.

Chay shot his middle finger up at Gabe and Mal. Until Rafe reached over and slapped it down.

“Hey,” he snapped. “You can’t use language—verbal or non-verbal—like that in front of my daughter.”

Gabe, Mal, and Chay stared at him before snickering.

Rafe scowled, cradling his sleeping two-month-old daughter in the crook of his arm. Eva Sharon Marcel, with her father’s black hair and her mother’s green eyes, had wrapped Rafe around her tiny finger from the day she’d come into this world.

Hell, her uncles, too.

“You degenerate bastards,” he growled. “You,” he stabbed a finger at Gabe, “just wait. Five more months. I’m counting ’em down.”

A wide grin split Gabe’s face. The joy seemed to light him from the inside out. A hard fist squeezed Chay’s heart. There’d been a time when he—all of them—had doubted they would ever see such happiness on him again. Gabe had his wife and son stolen years ago, but now he was married to a woman he loved with all his heart with a baby on the way.

In the last year, all of them had had their deepest secrets exposed and faced their darkest fears. They’d endured struggles and survived the most evil danger.

Yet each of them had found the purest, strongest love.

Mal’s firm was more successful than ever, and with Danielle by his side, their clientele had nearly doubled. All he’d lost when the truth about Richard’s death had been exposed had been restored. Jerrod, Guerrero, & Associates was one of the top law firms in the state. Although the name would soon change to Jerrod, Jerrod, & Associates once Mal and Danielle married in the spring.

Marriage and fatherhood had softened the edges around Rafe from razor sharp to just sharp. Chay silently snorted. His friend and business partner was still the scariest motherfucker he knew, but his wife and daughter had given him a peace that had been missing. Greer, now the artist of the graphic novels based on Gabe’s bestselling detective series, had healed the broken places in Rafe. And for that, Chay would forever be grateful.

Sighing, Chay turned away from the balcony railing and glanced over his shoulder into the luxury hotel suite. Leah, Danielle, Greer, and Aslyn joined his mother and aunts at the large dining table, laughing and talking.

His family. His brothers. His heart.

It’d taken twenty years, but they’d come full circle.

“I’m taking Eva in for a nap before the concert.” Rafe kissed his daughter’s forehead and headed for the open balcony door.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he breastfed her instead of Greer,” Chay drawled.

“I heard that,” Rafe called over his shoulder. “Highbrow,” he said to Aslyn as he passed by her, “for your sake I’m gonna refrain from kicking your man’s ass until after your performance.”

Aslyn laughed, rising from the table. “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.” She patted his shoulder. “I use his pretty face as inspiration, so afterward is cool.”

“Remind me whose side you’re on again?” Chay asked, stepping into the suite.

She grinned, crossed the room, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yours, of course. You know Rafe’s still experiencing hormonal changes.”

“Damn it, I heard that, too,” Rafe shouted from one of the bedrooms.

Chay grinned, pressed a lingering kiss to her lips.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he murmured against her mouth.

She smiled, love brightening her gray eyes.

“You loved me.”

…

Chay stood backstage as Aslyn concluded her second encore. Pride and awe filled his heart as she sauntered to the center of the stage and bowed deep at the waist. The black leather of her pants and boots clung to her shapely thighs and calves, and another kind of heat sidled through his blood. Damn, she was sexy. And he couldn’t wait to get her back into the dressing room to show her how beautiful he found her. In the meantime, though, he was content to watch her.

She was in her element.

Even though this was her first concert in ten months—since Quinton Lakes attacked her—she’d given a stellar performance to a packed venue. Hard to believe just months earlier she couldn’t touch a piano or compose music. Neither Lakes nor Liam had stopped her. Not this woman of strength, vitality, and spirit.

And miracle of all miracles, she was his.

Though he’d been willing to travel back and forth between L.A. and Boston, Aslyn had opted to move to Boston. In her words, she could play anywhere. After mourning the loss of Jeremy and hiring a new manager and agent—both of whom were thoroughly vetted by Chay and Rafe—she’d started composing again and preparing for the El Morro concert. Her orchestra had relocated to Boston as well, and soon the small group of musicians had become a part of their ever-expanding family.

At one time, solitude and anonymity had been his goals. Now he could admit he hadn’t known what he wanted. Because he hadn’t realized life could be like this—full of noise, music, organized chaos, and love.

So much love.

“Thank you for your warm and gracious welcome,” Aslyn said into the microphone, earning her another deafening round of applause. Once it quieted some, she continued. “Some of you may know this has been a tough year.” At her words, all of the clapping and shouting ceased so a person could hear the smallest whisper. “There was a time when I questioned if I would have this again. I doubted if I would be able to stand on a stage again, in front of you, doing what I love. What I was born for. But I’m so thrilled to be here living the kind of happily ever after only found in fairy tales.”

Once more whistles, screams, and applause filled the old fortress.

“Aslyn, before we leave tonight, there’s one more thing we have in store for you,” her orchestra conductor announced into his mic.

Shock and delight lit her face. “You do?
Oooh
.” She rubbed her palms together. “I love surprises.”

The conductor chuckled. “Yes, we know. Chay?”

The astonishment on her face deepened. Her head whipped toward the side stage in Chay’s direction, eyes wide, lips parted.

His heart thudded against his sternum. Part of him still eschewed the celebrity and attention that was part and parcel of being in love with a celebrated pianist. His nose would grow the length of a football field if he claimed the flash of photographer’s cameras didn’t make him cringe. Staring at her now in that bright circle of light, his stomach clenched. But then he focused on the woman inside that illuminated circle. The woman who had called him worthy. The woman who made him believe he was worthy. For that woman—for Aslyn—he would brave anything.

Even stepping out on this stage in front of thousands of people to show her he didn’t fear standing in the public eye with her.

Beside her.

He moved out of the wing and into the spotlight.

Beautiful
. He threaded his fingers through her sweat-dampened hair before sliding his hand over hers and removing the microphone. With his other hand, he entwined his fingers through hers, holding tight.

“Chay,” she breathed. “You don’t have to—”

“You like to call me your hero, but the truth is you saved me. You loved me. And I can’t imagine a world or life without you in it.” He released her hand, dipped into the front pocket of his slacks and pulled free a small black box. Then he lowered to one knee in front of her and stared up into the face that chased away his demons. “I love you, Aslyn Jericho,” he murmured, the microphone amplifying his vow echoing in the silent night. “With everything I am, I love you.” He popped open the lid and revealed the sparkling diamond engagement ring nestled inside. “Will you marry me?”

Screams and shouts of “Say yes!” filled the night air.

She gaped at him and lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. Her gaze dropped to the ring and back to him. He chuckled. “I do believe I’ve done the impossible and rendered you speechless.”

The dry words seemed to break her paralysis. Hooting with laughter, she loosed a bark of laughter and fell to the floor with him. On her knees, cupped his face in both of her hands.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Hell
yes
!” Then threw herself at him, knocking them both to the stage. She covered his lips with hers and kissed him with a passion that would probably land them both on the cover of a tabloid in the morning.

Jesus Christ
. Would she ever do anything expected?
No, she wouldn’t
. He grinned under her mouth. This would be his life with her.

Spontaneous.

Surprising.

Bright.

And a helluva long way from boring.