HAYDEN (Dragon Security Book 5) (15 page)

I glanced at Dominic. He didn’t know what to do. Neither did I.

I didn’t want to console this woman. But what choice did I have?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wagner,” I said softly.

“I don’t understand why God would do this. She was a good girl. She was so much better than I was.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell her that?”

She shook her head. “I should have.”

“You should have.”

We sat there for a while in silence. There was nothing more to say, really.

Megan

It was a long day. The sun was burning down on us. It was surprisingly warm for a January day, even in Houston. Appropriate, I thought. Sam would have loved it.

Out of respect for her mother, Sam requested a church service at her mother’s church. I sat in the front pew, her mother on one side of me, Hayden on the other. After last night’s meltdown, Mrs. Wagner seemed to have pulled it together. She clenched a picture of Sam as an infant. She held it close to her heart as she listened to the pastor—a man who knew almost nothing about the Sam that Hayden and I knew—as he talked about what a good daughter she was, and what a good person and a good Christian she was. I guess he didn’t realize that Sam had considered herself an agnostic since she left for boot camp eight years ago.

Hayden was like a wooden post. He sat fully upright, stiff. When he stood, he was a board straight up and down, no slouch in his shoulders. He reminded me of soldiers standing at the graves of their brothers in arms. My heart hurt as much for him as it did for myself.

We left the church together, the Dragon family. The ceremony at the gravesite was to be private, just for those of us that she considered her second family. She was very specific about this part of the day, outlining who should be there, what music should be played, and who should speak. And she was specific about not wanting her mother there.

“I understand,” Mrs. Wagner said quietly.

She watched as Dominic led Hayden away and as Angela cried her way down the hall to where the limos waited for us. She watched all these people who loved Sam so much, silent tears running down her face.

“I know everyone thinks I didn’t love my daughter,” she said softly. “But I only wanted to protect her from the vices that nearly ruined my life.”

Mrs. Wagner was this monster in my life. The stories Sam told me about her made her seem like this creature that spit evil everywhere she went. It was as if she couldn’t see the grace and love that was right there in front of her. Sam was too gracious to be the product of such a violent union, such a vicious woman.

I was sorry that Mrs. Wagner was so clearly hurting. But she couldn’t possibly have a complete grasp of everything she’d lost. I did. I couldn’t stand here and console this woman when my own pain was so raw.

I started to turn, but she grabbed my arm.

“Was she happy?” she asked. “Before she died? Was she happy?”

“She was.” I looked at her for a long moment. “She was dying, but I think that made her embrace life even more. And Hayden…he was everything she’d ever wanted. They would have had an amazing life together.”

She inclined her head slightly, her tears staining the front of her black dress. Then she looked up, her cheeks burning red with emotion.

“I’m glad.”

Then she just walked away, her shoulders sloped like the broken woman she’d always been.

We stood at the gravesite, unable to turn away. I couldn’t stand the idea of watching them place her in the ground. My stomach was a collection of cramps, the pain almost overwhelming. But I stood there, my spine as straight as Hayden’s. He stood at my side, a collection of white roses in his hand, the rose Sam had chosen to be scattered on her coffin. I wondered if she would have changed her mind if she’d made these arrangements after her relationship with Hayden blossomed. Maybe she would have preferred red roses.

The ceremony had been beautiful. The music was upbeat and perfect. Everything was perfect.

Sam always had a way with planning. She could walk in the morning of a party, everything a disaster, had have it come off as smooth as silk. She was brilliant.

She was my best friend.

I don’t know how I got through that day. My mom was a big help, I remember that. She made sure everyone had a drink or something to eat during the reception at my house. I remembered Dominic and Angela and Amy and Quinn coming up to talk to me. But that was about the last thing I remembered. I took a bottle of wine and disappeared into the bedroom at some point. Hayden came and found me when it was about half gone, two more bottles in his fists.

We lay back on the bed and drank, sharing stories of Sam. You’d think it would hurt to talk about her as if she were still here, but it didn’t. Somehow it made it easier.

“She was fourteen the first time I saw her. She was this little, mousy girl, sitting all by herself in a gray skirt and gray sweater. The other kids made fun of her, but she just smiled and walked away like it didn’t matter. I admired that.”

“The first time I saw her, it wasn’t in the office. Did I ever tell you that?”

I glanced at him. “No, you didn’t.”

“It was at Luke’s. I’d just come to town and he was letting me sleep on his couch. She stopped by to drop off some papers or something, something for you. I opened the door and I thought to myself,
damn, what a beautiful woman!
I think maybe that’s why I accepted the job at Dragon. Because I knew I’d see her every day.”

“You should have asked her out sooner.”

“I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

I took his hand and held it tight in mine.

“She loved you.”

“I loved her.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jeweler’s box. “I was going to give this to her at lunch that day.”

I took it and opened it. It was a small diamond on a simple gold band. Around the diamond were tiny, crushed slivers of amethyst, her birthstone. Beautiful.

“This is so Sam.”

“That’s what I thought when I saw it.”

I sat up and swallowed the last few drops in the third bottle.

“We need more.”

I got up and stumbled toward the door. At some point while we were locked inside my room, the wake had ended. My mom left a note on the refrigerator door telling me she wanted me to call her when I surfaced. She was worried, but she understood.

I tossed the note in the trash.

There was more wine in the fridge. I pulled a bottle out and turned to call to Hayden, but he was standing behind me.

“Do you have red? She loves red.”

I held up the bottle. “Right here. Merlot.”

He took it from me and grabbed a couple of proper glasses from the cupboard. He poured two healthy glasses, handing me one.

“To Sam,” he said. “To the hope that she’s found all the happiness she deserves in whatever comes after this life.”

“To Sam, in the hopes that we’ll all be together again someday.”

We touched glasses, but before we could drink, someone pounded on the door.

“Ignore it,” Hayden said.

I did, taking that much-needed drink. Then another. And another.

The pounding didn’t stop.

The door suddenly opened and Dante burst into the kitchen.

“Megan,” he said, relief dripping from his voice. “I only just heard about Sam. I’m so sorry.”

He came to me, trying to take my face in his hands. I turned away, not really in the mood to be touched. Not by him, anyway.

“Leave her alone,” Hayden said.

“Mind your business.” Dante studied my face. “Why didn’t you call me? What happened? I was told she was shot, but—”

“Leave. Her. Alone.”

Hayden laid his hands on Dante’s shoulders, pulling him back away from me.

“Cut it out, Hayden,” Dante said, his voice low and rough, the way Luke’s would get when he was pissed.

Fuck! Why couldn’t I stop—?

Hayden threw a punch, catching Dante low on the jaw.

“She’s grieving. Can’t you see that?”

Dante touched his jaw, moving it as though checking to make sure there was no permanent injury.

“I’m just here to support her.”

“You’re putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Dante crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes moving to my face.

“Do you want me here, Megan?”

I didn’t know what to say. He came to me again, and again Hayden grabbed him and pulled him back.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, Hayden.”

“Then leave.”

“Not until she tells me to.”

Hayden didn’t even look at me. He swung again, hitting Dante in the same spot. Then he followed up with a hard punch to Dante’s stomach. Dante backed up, glaring at Hayden even as he doubled over a little

“I’m not going to hit you back,” he said. “I know you’re hurting.”

“This isn’t about me hurting. This is long overdue. You come charging in here and take advantage of my friend, a woman still reeling from the death of her brother and the disappearance of her fiancé.” Hayden glared at him. “What kind of man does that?”

“My relationship with Megan is none of your damn business!”

“She’s my friend!”

Hayden charged him again, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and dragged him toward the front door. Dante grabbed his upper arms in an attempt to make him let go, but he didn’t. Hayden threw him out the front door, and then went after him, slamming his fist into his face several times, curse words flying from his lips. I grabbed his upper arm as he went for another punch, pulling him back.

“Enough.”

He glanced at me, then slowly backed up. Dante was watching, blood dripping from his nose.

“Go,” I said.

I hurt for him. But right now, Hayden needed me more than Dante did.

I pulled Hayden back into the house and wrapped my arms around him. In that moment, he finally let go of everything that had been holding him upright, all the pain he’d been pushing down, collapsing against me like a damn bursting against the weight of a spring storm.

We fell to the floor there in my foyer and leaned against each other, both of us broken, too broken to ever be put back together again.

Hayden

A month later…

I sat at the metal table, listening to doors slam throughout the building. They were heavy, metallic doors, the kind that were designed to keep what was inside, inside.

The door to this room opened and a guard came inside, the man who’d ruined my life beside him, his hands and ankles shackled. They sat him in the chair across from me and locked his shackles to the table and the floor.

I studied him, looking for the face of the man I’d met on a trip to New York over twenty years ago. There were similarities, but prison had been hard on him.

I was glad.

“Why did you plead guilty?” I demanded as soon as the guard left.

The man stared at me, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed.

“Why not fight it like you did the last time? Was it because there was no eight-year-old kid to force to take the stand?”

“My lawyer informed me that there were too many witnesses. Besides, I never intended to try to beat this charge.”

“Why?”

“Why did I not want to beat the charge? Or why did I do it?”

“Why did you do it?”

He studied me a moment longer. “You privileged little brat! You took everything from me. My wife left me; my child was raised by a man who wasn’t her father. My money, my freedom, and my life were all gone because of you.”

I leaned forward just slightly. “You raped my mother right in front of me. Then you did things to my father that no man should have to endure. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you made them watch as the two of you slit their throats. You made my parents watch each other die—watch the one they loved more than anyone else die.”

He tried to cross his arms over his chest, but he couldn’t because of the shackles.

“You were six when all that happened. How do you know it was me? How do you know you didn’t confuse me with someone else?”

“Because I remembered you from when you brought our luggage to our room. I remembered the candy you gave me when my parents weren’t looking. I know it was you.”

“You were a kid.”

“Yeah, I was.  A kid who grew up without parents because of you. And now you’ve taken my fiancée from me.”

The man shrugged. “Now you know what it’s like to miss something that important to you.”

My vision reddened, the anger inside of me the most intense emotion I think I’d ever felt. And that… I couldn’t give that to him.

I stood and walked to the door, banging to let the guard know I was done.

But I wasn’t. Not really.

Working for Dragon meant that I made a lot of friends in different areas of society: cops, federal agents, bankers, wealthy executives—even some on the other side—criminals.

A single letter to an old friend and…three days later, I read of this man’s death in prison. A fight over the television, the article said.

What a loss.