Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (25 page)

Oh my God, the picture is perfectly clear now. The puzzle pieces scattered in my head are now connected. This is why Michael is so protective and the reason Trent never divulged any information. They are all still struggling from the loss of their sister who died in the hands of a psychopathic abuser.

“My sincere apologies.” I kiss his chest, and I look at Trent and Josh. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. Josh and Trent stand up to pace around my bedroom, threading their fingers through their hair nervously with both hands, mourning their loss in silence as tears trickle down their cheeks.

Moments later Josh makes a remark that breaks the stillness and shock.

“Michael, what’s with the skirt?”

Trent bursts out laughing so hard he clutches his stomach and tears roll down his cheeks. “Hey, Michael, Josh got to see those sexy legs of yours after all.”

“Shut the hell up, Trent. This is a damn costume for God’s sake,” Michael scowls and glares at Josh, telling him if he so much as says one word, he’ll rip him to shreds.

Josh holds up his hands. “I’m pleading the fifth.” He chuckles out and focuses on me.

Josh brushes the hair away from my face with a tender touch of his fingers. “What, Ariana? I see the wheels spinning in your head with a million questions.”

“How did he know what the ring looked like that Danny gave me? Did you get to see it? It’s identical to the one that’s out in the foyer.” I stare at the ceiling, licking my lips, my mouth feeling dry, possibly from the sedative.

“He must have had some connection with Danny. Maybe after you guys divorced he confided in a friend.” Josh tries to come up with some reason.

I let out a faint laugh. “Danny never let anyone get too close to him, not even me. He had trust issues,” I explain.

“Have you and Danny ever gone to functions and been photographed?” Michael questions.

“We’ve been to several events, but he would warn them in advance. He said, and I quote, ‘You take one picture of me or my wife, and you’ll see not only a lawsuit on your hands but my fist in your face’. Trust me, there are no pictures of us anywhere,” I say, making my point that Danny was a very private man.

“Damn it, I can’t understand how he got in without being seen by my men,” Trent explains, trying to convince me and yet he sounds puzzled at the whole situation.

I wish I could move so I could comfort him. It’s not his fault. I glance at Josh and say, “I don’t know what you gave me, but my body feels like one big overcooked noodle.”

He chuckles at my comment and answers, “It’s just a mild sedative. It will help you sleep without any disturbances.”

Well, that’s an understatement. I cringe at my image as I glimpse down at myself. The costume is in disarray and torn. The bed sheets, blankets, clothes, and pillows are dispersed over the floor, and the furniture is now in different sections of the room.

Oh my God. What creature submerged from my body, causing this state of disorder? Will this happen again? Will my split personality appear with no self-control, without warning?

I try to make sense of all this, the disturbing emotions that settled over me tonight. How the hate and rage surfaced from within me. It’s as if an explosion tore my soul apart. It scared the hell out of me and now I feel numb and hollow.

“I’m feeling a bit paralyzed. I don’t think I can get out of this,” I say, pointing toward my costume.

“I’ll be happy to assist.” Michael grins, his eyebrows doing a dance.

I wiggle my finger. “No, but thanks for the offer. I’ll wait until I can move.”

“Damn, this is not my day.” He shakes his head with a pitiful look and presses a soft kiss over my lips that has me tingling all over.

Trent leans over and kisses me. “I’m heartbroken, darlin’,” he comments, placing his hand over his heart. “I can’t give you my special bear hug.” He smirks.

“You’ll live,” Josh retorts and gives me a sweet embrace, kissing my forehead. “You can always trust me,” he whispers in my ear.

“Yes, of course, and I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, I do have one suggestion and I’m pretty much telling you, not asking. You need to see a therapist or doctor. I have the perfect doctor not far from here,” Josh offers.

“I don’t think I can,” I answer shaking my head.

Josh lips turn into a thin, hard line. “Ariana, it’s not healthy to keep this bottled up. You saw what just happened to you,” he says, and I can tell that it took a lot for him to keep his cool.

“I’ll think about it.”

“At least it’s a start,” he comments.

“I have a question. What was in the package?”

“The parcel was empty. He was playing with your emotions,” Trent answers.

“He succeeded,” I whisper.

“He’s a sick bastard.” Trent explodes, his face taut with anger. “I’m going to track the bastard down. I promise.” Trent paces around the room several times making me dizzy. He stops and looks at each of us with a grim expression across his face.

“I don’t even know how the bastard got passed security. Unless . . . .” Suddenly Trent goes pale. “He works in the building.” He combs his fingers through his hair and blows out a long breath.

“Holy shit. Damn it, but I checked the staff,” he says with rage, his body tense and veins bulging from his neck. “What if I missed someone?” He begins to second-guess himself. “What if he’s an outside vendor? Damn it,” he hisses out.

“Trent don’t beat yourself up. He’s a psychotic jerk and probably knows his way around the building; including the whereabouts of the cameras. You’ve covered every inch of this place and it’s surrounding area.

“I want to get a hold of the bastard myself and kill him with my bare hands,” Michael blasts through gritted teeth.

Suddenly an oppressive feeling weighs over me, and before I can say goodnight, I drift to a happier place.

Chapter 22

Sands Point

I’m aroused by the smell of coffee. I stretch all my aching muscles, and I still. My eyes grow wide. I touch the pillows beneath my head and glance at the duvet placed over me neatly, which kept me warm overnight.

I jerk up, and I gasp. My room, my room, which looked like a tornado hit it last night, is now neat, tidy, and organized. The dresser, my nightstands, pictures, and knickknacks are all in their proper places, and the broken glass from my picture frame and table lamps have been cleaned up. I peek over the bed, and sitting near my closet are the boxes I emptied from my breakdown and scattered throughout out the room, now packed efficiently.

I look down, and I’m in my tank top and yoga pants. I gasp, placing my hand over my chest. I know damn well I did not change out of my costume. I frown my lips thin. Michael, you little sneak, you no-good stinker.

I jump out of bed, a bit unsteady. He’s
here.
I can smell his wholesome scent. Grabbing my robe I rush out in a tirade of anger. I reach the kitchen, and there he is standing, sweet, innocent, and devilishly handsome in a pale yellow T-shirt tucked in his faded light blue jeans. His black, wavy hair brushed back. Damn him for looking so good.

He must have heard me. He turns with that drop-dead, gorgeous grin that can cause a nuclear eruption. “Good morning, Ariana.”

“Good morning, yourself,” I hiss out. His dazzling smile fades into a frown and his eyebrows crease.

He places his coffee cup on the counter and ambles his way toward me. I don’t want to be upset with this adoring and compassionate man, but I am. I’m grateful for all the hard work he put into cleaning the mess I created. I don’t know if I would have been able to put everything back in its place, without the memories of last night slapping me in the face. But, I told him I didn’t need his help getting undressed and does he listen?
No,
he goes and does it anyway. I’m uncomfortable about my scars.

I open my mouth, and he places his finger over my lips.

“Before you start accusing me of any wrongdoing, I called Mrs. O’Conner late last night and asked her if she could dress you.” His eyes sparkle with brilliance. He is pleased with himself. “I know it was late to call her except I was desperate, and I paid her handsomely. Joe picked her up and took her home. She was also kind enough to help my brothers and I clean and reorganize your room. I gave her strict instructions not to lift you or turn you because you had a back injury. This way you wouldn’t have to worry about her seeing your scars.”

I’m rendered speechless. He thought of everything. I had all my lines rehearsed. This is not what I expected. Again he sweeps me off the floor with his charm and efficiency. “Damn you,” is all I can muster and go for the cabinet to grab a cup.

He chuckles softly. He thinks I didn’t hear him. He knew I was about to pounce on him that no-good smart aleck. I turn to face him, and he’s looking all smug.

“Have nothing to say?” He lifts his coffee mug to his lips and takes a drink.

I begin to say something and stop for a moment, and pour myself coffee. “Thank you,” I whisper and stare into the ripples of the black liquid in my mug.

“Your welcome,” he says with a gentle tone.

I turn away from the coffeepot to face him. “You’re acting like a smart-ass. You knew damn well I was about to read you the riot act, didn’t you?” I reply sounding a little snippy.

His sweet laughter echoes throughout my kitchen, captivating me. I burst out giggling and all my anger dissipates.

He leans toward me, and I put my hand out in front of his precious lips. “I was so angry I rushed out before I could brush my teeth,” I say, disappointed.

“Well then, I suggest you move along quickly, Ariana. I don’t know how much longer I can hold my self-control.”

I nod and rush out. I walk into my bedroom to take an extended look, the scenes of before and after swirl in my mind. A slight shiver goes through me. I turn on my stereo system, and I hear the song “He’s Trying to Save Me” by Raushi.

My subconscious springs out and gives me a fair warning.
You can’t trust men. They’re all alike.
I shake the thoughts out of my head and shower, dress, and, of course, brush my teeth. I comb my bangs to the side and left my long, black hair loose in bouncy waves. I decide to wear a pair of black jeans with a black T-shirt cradling my every curve.

I walk back into the kitchen. I catch him drinking his coffee. He peers up at me through his long lashes and almost chokes, spitting out the coffee over the floor. He snatches a dishtowel, wets it, and dries the marble. “Damn, Ariana, give a man warning before you come waltzing in looking like a goddess,” he says with a provocative tone and lust filled eyes.

“Sorry . . . I . . . ” are the only words I get out before he hauls me into his arms, pressing me against his solid chest. His lips on mine and I’m lost in his sweltering kiss.

I grip his shoulders, pulling him harder to my aching body. I snake my arms around his neck. I feel his heat, and I go liquid, groaning from the sensation washing over me.

I can’t breathe fast enough. My hands drift frantically over his abs, wrapping them to his back. My fingers begin to caress every powerful, toned muscle.

“I want to make love to you, drive deep inside you, make you forget all your pain. I need to hear you scream my name,” he murmurs into my inflamed mouth, breathing heavily.

I pull away, and he snatches me back. “Don’t, Ariana, I will never force you. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

I kiss him, and I tumble onto a field of wild flowers, surrounded by the sweet aroma of blossoms.

He releases me, and I feel deserted and abandoned. My soul shivers from the loss.

“A man can only take so much. Are you ready to go to the Island?” He asks.

I blink several times. Island? Oh, yes. We spoke about this last night in his car. He wants to take me to his home at Sands Point.

“My home, Sands Point, did you forget?” He queries.

“No, of course not, I just had a brain lapse for a second. You know . . . you do that to me,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “You have the same affect on me,” he says, brushing his fingers across my cheeks. “Let’s go before I try to have my way with you.”

***

We approach a set of iron gates, and Michael punches in a code. They part, revealing a long, tree-lined road. Farther into the drive, an enchanting fieldstone mansion emerges into the scene with a captivating view of the Long Island Sound.

“Wow,” is all I say.

“You like?” Michael asks and pulls in front of double wooden doors with Tiffany stained-glass windows nestled up against each side.

“Like . . . I love it. It’s charming. It’s beautiful, Michael,” I express joyfully.

“Charming, you say.” He shakes his head. “Thank you.” He shuts off the engine and walks around to open the car door for me like a gentleman.

We walk into an expanded, long elaborate hall with polished wood floors. The entrance extends to the back of the house, exposing floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the pool with the Long Island Sound as a backdrop.

To the right of the foyer is an exquisite staircase with thick, detailed, polished wooden railings.

Opposite the stairs is a living room, furnished with elegant antiques and plush sofas. Farther into his home, an enormous kitchen captures me with an L-shaped island as the centerpiece. Copper pots and pans hang over the island, Sub-Zero appliances, granite coffee-colored countertops make the kitchen look like it was in a magazine or copied from a showroom.

The maple cabinets are stained with cinnamon, onyx-glazed finish. Tall wooden chairs with intricate details on the legs and cushioned bottoms and backs are all lined up along the L-shaped island. The floor-to-ceiling windows expose the calming waters of the sound.

“God, Michael this is breathtaking,” I say with enthusiasm.

“Thank you. I love how your eyes sparkle as you take in the surroundings of my home.”

“Thank you. How long have you had it?” I ask, running my fingers over the countertop of the kitchen island.

“I closed over the spring. Some work still needs to be done on the house.” He points toward the covered pool. “See the little shed right before the stairs leading to the dock?” He asks.

“Yes,” I say, smiling inwardly at the excitement I hear in his voice as he talks about his home.

“I’d like to have a pool house built in place of it. With a small kitchenette, bathroom, full shower, and a separate dressing room to change in. What do you think?” He looks at me with warmth, waiting for my approval.

“I love it. Your idea sounds perfect, Michael,” I say, clasping my hands together.

“Come, we haven’t had breakfast, and I thought I would whip up some waffles with fresh strawberries,” he offers, walking over to the pantry which is shelved with an abundance of non-perusable food.

He struts out with flour and pulls out a bowl, whisk, eggs, and measuring cups.

“I want to help please,” I offer, flashing my baby blues.

***

I can’t imagine how we were able to make six waffles when we wore most of the flour being playful with one another, but it was so much fun, and I’d do it again. I needed this, to forget my tribulations for just a few hours. This was, by all, the best distraction.

We sit in the breakfast nook enjoying our waffles and strawberries while gazing out onto the white, sandy beach, observing the seagulls gliding across the hazy, blue sky. “This is delicious, Michael.”

Michael’s knee brushes up against my leg, causing my insides to quiver. “Thank you, here have another.” He forks a waffle from the serving plate and places it on my dish.

“No, stop, stop, I’ve had enough, Michael. I’m stuffed,” I protest.

“Ariana, you’re too thin, and you’re leaving tomorrow for several weeks. I know you’re not going to be eating well.”

It warms me to feel his genuine concern for me. “Trust me, I eat well when I’m away.”

He smiles, taking the waffle back. He pushes his last piece around the plate, forking it to death. He seems to be deep in thought. He looks up to face me, opens his mouth to say something, chooses not to, and frowns, focusing on his plate and fork.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” I ask.

The fork slips from his fingers, making a loud clattering sound against the plate. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but I’d like to discuss last night,” he gently voices, taking hold of my hand, caressing my knuckles.

I grow tense, and the image of that ring swings in my face like a pendulum, taunting me with memories I never wanted to recall. I still can’t get over how I burst out about the beatings Danny used to give me, like a deranged person on drugs. It was if as another person surfaced from my body and took over my brain. I lost full control, physically and emotionally. It was unbelievable, I stare through the window and gaze at the calm water. I blink several times and shake my head to diminish last night’s incident. Michael gently taps my hand to grab my attention.

“Ariana, talk to me,” he pleads his voice mournful.

“Oh, Michael, last night . . . ” I speak with a low tone, swallowing past the big lump in my throat.

He stood. “Come with me, Ariana,” he says, taking my hand in his and I feel the electricity seep through my skin, making my heart flutter. We walk through the kitchen and into another room I haven’t seen.