Skeletons of Us (Unquiet Mind Book 2) (29 page)

It was selfish. I was aware of that, but I had to be selfish or I feared there would be nothing left of me for them to worry about.

Hannah: Hey, babe, got you a car sorted. You’ll just need to pick it up from the rental desk when you land. For the record, I’m totally not on board with keeping this secret. You know how bad I am at that. It gives me heartburn. Plus, that hot biker that I, of course, hate may burn this entire place down with his fury, and I really like the furniture here.

I tried not to let the thought of Killian’s fury hit me, but of course it did. Everything to do with him hit me.

Instead of dwelling on that, I sent a quick reply back to Hannah and set off to get my car and search for some quiet and some counsel from two people who were guaranteed to give it to me, had they been alive.

“We need to call the police,” Sam declared, pacing the room.

“We do not need to call the police,” Wyatt argued. “You got the same text as me. Lexie’s fine. She just needed a minute alone.”

Sam stopped, glaring at him. “Yeah, I got the text. But do you know how easily that could have been sent by the motherfucker after her? Fuck, we should have had a code word that she sends us so we know when she’s in trouble or some shit. Soon as she gets back, we’re getting a fucking code word.” He started pacing again. “Now, we’re calling the police. She said a
minute
. It’s been five fucking hours.”

Hannah, Lexie’s assistant, stepped in front of Sam as he snatched his phone off the coffee table.

“You don’t need to call the police,” she said quickly. “She’s fine.” Her eyes bugged out once she realized what she said. “I mean, she’ll most likely phone. I don’t know anything.”

Sam frowned at her, his mind working slowly.

Killian’s mind was not working slowly. It had been buzzing with activity since he’d woken up to discover Lexie had disappeared, slipping away in the two fuckin’ hours he’d been asleep. Since then, every part of him had been wired, electrified, running on fear. He had yet to call Bull, probably not the best decision, but the rational part of him admitted Lexie left on her own account, which made his blood boil even more.

He simmered with anger—yeah, there was a lot of that—but with something else as well. Dread at the fact she was actually willing to risk her life, her safety, in order to escape him. The fact was, if this fucker actually got to her, it would be because Killian created the best environment for him to do so. All he wanted in this life was Lexie safe, that urge might be the very thing to kill her. To end him.

He couldn’t think of that.

Instead, he unstuck himself from where he’d been frozen against a wall and advanced on Hannah. Her eyes widened in fear, but he ignored that. He didn’t give a shit if he scared her. Lexie should be here.

“Where the fuck is she?” he bit out, crowding her.

She tried to step back, but he grabbed her arm, not hard enough to inflict pain but enough to show her she wasn’t going anywhere.

She glanced down and then met his eyes. “I don’t know. She—”

“Don’t even bother tryin’ to fuckin’ lie,” he commanded, voice hard. “You realize the danger she’s in? How fuckin’ stupid you’re being, lying about where she is? How you’re responsible if anything happens to her?” That was a lie. Killian was ultimately responsible, but he needed to scare her into telling him. He knew how much she cared about Lexie, her worry for her would trump the loyalty.

“She went to Washington,” she said immediately. “She’ll be safe there. No one’s even spotted her.”

Of course she went there. Killian should have realized that sooner. Lexie was searching for sanctuary in this fuckin’ shitstorm. She wouldn’t worry her Mom or Bull. She’d go to the one other place that she felt safe. To the only other people who offered that to her, despite being six feet under.

Wyatt bit out a curse. “Jesus Christ, Hannah. You’ve known all this time and lied to us? Not fuckin’ cool.”

Killian didn’t wait for the rest of the band to berate Hannah. He let her go with a force that caused her to stumble slightly. He ignored this, turning on his heel with one destination in mind.

Washington.

“Hey guys,” I whispered. My voice disappeared on the gentle breeze fluttering through the empty cemetery.

I trailed my hand against the cool stone of the twin headstones in front of me.

Steve Thordon & Ava Thorndon

Beloved parents and grandparents. Will live forever in the hearts of those they touched with their beauty.

Ash coiled in my throat at the first visit to their gravesite since I’d buried them here what felt like forever ago.

“I miss you both so much,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m so lost and all I wish, more than anything, is that you were here to help me find my way.”

The breeze picked up again, this time not carrying my words in the air, but the voice of memories. Steve’s scratchy voice. The smell of his study, residual tobacco from the cigars he occasionally smoked, notes of Ava’s perfume. The smell of home. Of sanctuary.

“The lessons of life can be learned in these pages.” Steve gestured to the wall of books that took up half of his study. The things he loved. That we loved and we shared.

He stepped forward, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “We may be able to learn lessons in these pages, but we can’t experience them. We can’t truly understand until we’ve lived outside those pages. Written our own stories.”

I smiled at him, deciding he was the most knowledgeable person I’d ever met. “Like you and Ava? Your story. Your happily ever after?”

He smiled and cupped my cheek. “Me and Ava,” he agreed. “Also you and your mom.” He paused before letting me go and turning back to his books. “Happily ever after is a tricky concept, chickee,” he said. “Happily is a relative concept and it’s more complicated than that. Life is full of joy.” He turned back around, and I watched him raptly. “Life is also full of pain.” His eyes twinkled. “I hope and pray you have the least amount of pain in your long life, chickee. I want you to live the most vibrant and beautiful life there could be. But I fear my wishes have created an oxymoron. A truly joyful life isn’t full of pure joy. A joyful life can only be achieved with the knowledge of pain, because only when we know how much we can hurt can we realize how happy we can be.”

I let his words sink over my seven-year-old mind, trying to grasp the concept. I wandered to a shelf of books, running my fingers along them. “But your life with Ava, it’s so happy. She’s your true love.” I glanced at him. “Like the people in these.” I nodded to the books. “And you two aren’t in pain.”

Steve smiled and came to stand beside me. “Not now. Not most of the time, but we have been. Because true, profound love isn’t full of joy. You can’t love someone with your whole soul without feeling the pain of it. It’s impossible. But it’s bearable, when you know you’ve got forever with someone.”

I reached out and squeezed Steve’s hand. “I want that, one day. I want that for Mom, too.”

Steve’s eyes twinkled. “I want that for you and your mom. Because I know my girls are strong enough to withstand the pain necessary to taste joy.”

I journeyed back to the present, Steve’s words echoing through my mind, jumbling it up but clearing it at the same time.

Maybe it was that memory and the full day of sleep I’d had. Without being strangled under the weight of memories, I’d gotten almost six hours at the hotel I’d immediately checked into. I wasn’t strong enough to go back to Steve and Ava’s house, which was a time capsule Mom and I had left because it was too painful to pack up. I’d woken up in the late afternoon and found the strength to go and seek advice from the ghosts of Steve and Ava.

I’d found it.

But someone had also found me. His gaze prickled the back of my neck, and I turned. His presence almost set me back on one foot, his intensity filling up the open air. The blankness in his eyes hit my stomach.

“Hannah,” I whispered. I knew she couldn’t keep a secret, and right now, I was glad of it. I couldn’t handle being alone while confronted with my loss.

His jaw hardened and fury seeped from him in waves. He didn’t say a thing, just kept staring at me, his fists clenched at his sides.

I glanced down to the headstone before meeting his eyes. “I miss them so much.”

I don’t know what I expected from Killian, comfort surely, tenderness, not callousness.

“You miss them,” he repeated. His hard gaze froze me in place. “You want to see them again?” he asked quietly, his voice granite.

I flinched. “What do you mean?”

“I mean are you eager to head to the fuckin’ afterlife to reunite with them?” he bit out, his voice louder now. “’Cause that’s what you’re riskin’, Lexie, by runnin’ off like this. Your life. You’re gambling with it like it’s replaceable. Like
you’re
replaceable.”

His anger hit my tender soul, making tears well in my eyes. “I—”

“You nothing,” he gritted out. “If anything had happened to you…” He trailed off, his face gentling just a smidgeon, but enough to show someone familiar under his mask. He stepped forward, as if to give me what I craved, what I needed more than my next breath.

The air where he’d been seemed to vibrate and chips of stone flew off the headstone, settling in the grass around us. I stared at the ground, confused.

Killian’s entire form tightened and he was on me in seconds, pulling us both to the ground, his body covering mine.

“Stay down, freckles,” he instructed. “Don’t fuckin’ move.”

I struggled against his body. It didn’t do much. “What was that?”

He glanced at me, his face empty. “It was someone comin’ very close to taking something irreplaceable from me,” he bit out, leaning up so he could retrieve a gun from his pants.

My eyes widened at this, at what it meant. “Someone shot at you?” I said, my voice laden with terror. “How did you get that through security?” I added as an afterthought.

Killian didn’t answer me. His gaze was focused in the direction where I guessed the shot came from. His face was blank, empty, his body taut.

“Stay down,” he commanded.

Panic slithered down my spine as Killian motioned to get up. Like up where a bullet had narrowly missed tearing through his body.

I clutched his leather jacket. “You could get hurt. Shot,” I whispered, fear morphing my voice into something small and vulnerable.

His eyes flickered to mine. “Think I care about that? I’m protectin’ what’s mine.”

On that note, he shook out of my grasp and the cold air caressed me when the heat of his body disappeared.

I watched him duck through the headstones of the empty cemetery. Or what I thought had been empty. Now it was full of malice, of
him
.

I couldn’t stand the silence, expecting any moment to hear the terrible sound of bullets tearing through flesh.

Minutes yawned into an eternity. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I slowly got up, half expecting bullets to hit me once I reached full height. But I couldn’t stay there with Killian at risk. I couldn’t live with that.

I jumped when he stormed up to me, his gun at his side. His hand fastened around my neck and he was in my space, way up in my space so I could taste the bitterness of his fury. “I told you to stay fuckin’ down,” he clipped.

I jutted my chin up, finding strength from somewhere deep down. “I wasn’t laying there while you wandered around, risking getting shot,” I hissed.

Something flickered in his gaze, but it was gone before I could grasp it. He stepped back, his hand moving to my own, grasping it firmly. “We’re not talking about this now, while you’re still vulnerable. He’s gone, but I’m not takin’ any fuckin’ risks. We’re going. Now.”

He dragged me off without another word, one hand in mine, the other holding his gun as he scanned the area with blazing eyes. I did the same, my heart thundering in my chest, expecting someone to jump out from behind a headstone. Half expecting this faceless stranger to take away what remained of my soul by putting a bullet in Killian.