Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Violet

The rollercoaster ride of emotion I'm on today is killing me.

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.

It's hard to reconcile the man I've fallen in love with… the man who knows me, who sees me, really truly sees me for who I am, with the same man who confessed to me today.

I can't get past what he told me. I can't reconcile my need for him, for us... with the need for truth and trust. How could I ever trust a man who would lie to me like that?

But at the same time… how could I walk away from everything? From Skylar and the boys, the house on the hill and my training ground… from Cain, who's become my best friend?

My throat aches. I swallow hard and try to stay focused.

And then finding out I'm worth so much money… I can hardly wrap my brain around it. I'm a merry-go-round of emotions.

I have enough to live on for the rest of my life.

But I have a mission to fulfill, and I won't rest until I've done so. I can't. I won't.

My parents died because someone thought it best to seek vengeance. I grew up parentless because of someone driven to retaliation. That can't go unpunished.

We arrive at the house, operating under the assumption that Armand… or whoever he's working for or with… is watching us.

Pretend to be in love, Skylar says.

How can I do that? How can I let him touch me again, knowing I have to leave? Knowing the truth?

"Cain," I say, holding myself aloof and hopefully being professional, because I can't get personal with him right now, I just can't. Cain's made damn sure neither of us is being bugged, but there's no telling who's following us right now, so I keep my voice low.

"Yeah?"

"He won't come to your house. He knows that this place is a fortress and he'd never make it out alive. We have to go to a place to bait him."

"Right," he says through gritted teeth. "We could go to the beach…"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "He wouldn't have the balls. He followed us on the highway, though, didn't he?"

"Yes," he says, stroking his chin. I want to be those fingers, grazing over the hard stubble on his jaw. Touching him. Stroking him. I swallow the lump in my throat.

I could get a two-bedroom apartment, far, far away from here. I'll get a job teaching martial arts, and maybe a dog…

"…and he'll have easy access to the highway or more, won't he?"

I blink, realizing I just missed half of what he said. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Say that again?"

Normally, when I lose focus, I get that stern look he likes to give me or anyone on his staff, or some kind of reproach. I'm used to it. I don't like when people space out when I'm talking to them either, and I know he's the kind of guy who values respect. But this time, he doesn't look upset with me. He doesn't look angry. Instead, his jaw slackens, and his voice softens when he talks to me.

"Baby, where'd you go just now?"

No. No, no, no, NO.

"You can't…" My voice is thick and strained. I swallow, clear my throat, then push through. "Don't call me that. I told you. I'm Miss Price now."

Skylar flinches as if someone struck her, then turns away and hangs her head.

Cain doesn't react at all for long moments, just looking at me. When he finally speaks again, his tone is resigned. "You're right. He won't come here. So I'm proposing we go somewhere together where he'll see us. You can go on your walk, pretend you're training or something, alone. If we're right… he'll come to you."

I nod. We go through the motions in silence. Cain assembles his team in his office and fills them in, while I mentally tally where I'll live, where I'll go. He dismisses them fifteen minutes later, and we have a full team that will follow us. We'll make it look like it's just me and Cain, but the entire time, we'll have everyone with us.

"Violet—Miss Price," Cain says. "Before we go, there are a few things I've… acquired for you."

His formal way of speaking makes me want to cry.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"It's because I told him he had to grovel," Sklyar says, glaring at him. I look at her in astonishment.

"What?"

I clamp my mouth shut.

"Because he was an asshole, he has a few things to give you to show you he's sorry."

"What? Do you two think I can be bought with gifts? Seriously?"

I hear a scratching at the door, and I blink in surprise. What the hell is going on here?

The door opens, and Joe comes in with a sheepish grin, holding a leash with the most adorable little pit bull puppy at the end of it. He's tan with large ears and wide eyes, as big as Cain's hands.

"Oh my God," I whisper, and fall to one knee. I open my arms, and he runs to me, like he knows he's mine. "Cain…"

The puppy leaps on my knee and laps at my face. My heart melts.

I don't forgive him. I don't . I will not be bought with pretty things, not now, not ever.

"I can't take him. I won't be bought," I tell Cain. But I don't put him down. I rise, cuddling the puppy to my chest. The sweet little boy sighs and nestles in, and my heart explodes.

"I'm not buying you. I'm giving you what you deserve. I'm apologizing for what I did. Take what I bought for you, they're yours. You can take them now or take them when you go, but I'm not taking them back."

Them?

He sighs. "You'll see later. We have to stay focused for now, but I'll show you everything else in time. For now… we have to go, ba—Violet."

"I'll call him Cudgel," I whisper, handing the sweet boy to Skylar. "Take good care of him until I get back."

"Oh, we will have the best wittle time, won't we? Auntie Skylar will spoil you with all the best little things she can, sweet thing. You come with me and we will be good and busy until mama comes back."

She leaves the office with Cudgel in tow, and when the door shuts, I'm alone with Cain.

Again.

God.

I don't like being alone with him anymore.

"Okay, so I know I need to go but what other things did you get me? If you don't tell me, I'll be distracted the entire time. I have to know."

He sighs.

"Bribery is a really low move. You're better than that," I say, crossing my arms over my chest so I don't hug him. I can't.

"This isn't bribery. Skylar read me the riot act. She was right. I was wrong, and I should've been honest with you. She said to grovel. This, Violet, is me groveling. You'll find those high-heeled boots in the closet when you pack to go."

"Which ones?" I ask him hesitantly.

"All of them."

All of them?

He doesn't sound as if he's trying to manipulate me, but I can't help but wonder… is he?

And this is why we can't work together anymore. I'll always wonder if he's trying to manipulate me, trying to get me back into his good graces. I can't trust the man.

"The team's assembled at the Willows," he says in a tight voice, his eyes trained over my shoulder. It's highly populated during the summer, but in the cooler months, there are far fewer pedestrians and civilians nearby.

"It's so crowded there, though," I say thoughtfully.

He nods. "It won't be. Joe's making sure there will be very few people there when we arrive."

I nod. I don't even want to know how Joe's planning this.

"Okay."

"Let's go. I'll explain on the way."

We're halfway to the Willows when his phone rings. Henri.

"Yeah. What is it?" Cain has zero patience.

"I looked through the diary Violet's mom left behind. All the initials correspond to the names of people who were killed on those dates, and I believe the number next to them corresponds with the payout she received. There were not one but two Castellano deaths attributed to unnamed snipers that year, sir. Not on public record, but I have some resources I pulled together."

"Good to know. Have we found Armand's location?"

Silence for a full minute.

"Henri?"

"We did, sir, but you're not going to like it."

"Why not?" Cain's voice is tight. "Why the hell not?"

"Because he's… he's been here the whole time, sir. We found a camp in the basement that we thought was vacant, but now know he's been using for his hiding spot. Not often by the looks of it, but he's come here more than once."

I curse under my breath.

"We fingerprinted the place and found for sure he was there. As for his current location, I suspect your plan to bait him at the Willows is sound, sir."

They disconnect.

"He suspects," Cain mutters. "Well, I suspect my staff's in deep shit for not finding out Armand was sneaking around our property."

I nod. "I understand."

He looks at me sharply, then turns away again.

We pull up to the Willows, and he parks his truck. He blows out a breath when he faces me. "So…"

"So," I respond, wrapping my arms on my chest.

"We're supposed to pretend we're in love."

"Right, if he knows that you and I… aren't…"

I don't even know how to say it. It's utter bullshit that because of his mistake, I feel wounded and hurt. Abandoned like I did when I was a child, because the one person I thought I could trust is a liar.

I am pretending, though. Do I have to pretend to care about the man who knows me inside and out? Who's taken such good care of me these past four months? Who drew me out of the shell I lived in?

Who made me whole ?

"How does one…" my voice is a little wobbly. "Pretend to love someone?"

His jaw clenches. "We could… kiss," he says with a frown. "That's a dead giveaway… I guess."

How could I kiss him? How could I do anything with him right now? Is he frowning because he doesn't want to kiss me? Knowing that I'm leaving, does he feel… repulsed by me?

I'm mentally warring with myself, my pulse racing.

He was the one who chose this.

He was the one that put me in this position to begin with.

Argh!

"Or," he says thoughtfully, "we could… maybe?—"

He thinks he won't kiss me? He thinks I'm not worthy of his attention or something? Oh no. Oh hell no .

I reach for him. I frame his face with my hands and yank him down to me. He freezes for long seconds as our lips connect. My own body stills. Everything but my heartbeat.

The sun feels cold compared to the heat in his kiss. My heart flutters, sending little bolts of awareness to my fingertips. I melt when his tongue finds mine. His own deep, male groan echoes through my core, and when he releases my face long enough for his fingers to stab into my hair, I fade into heat and warmth and light.

My pulse races with the memory of our bodies joined as lovers. Memories surface, one at a time, like a photo montage. Cain, standing against the background of the ocean the first day we met. That stark beauty in his eyes only I understand, the steady anchoring of hands on hips displaying the courage he sometimes feigns. For wounded people like me and Cain sometimes cower. We sometimes hide. We don't tell the truth because we fear being left behind.

And isn't that the crux of it.

As he kisses me, a soft cry escapes my lips, and he makes it his with a deep inhale. That's what he does—absorbs my pain, my emotions, my deepest longings, into his very being. Unites himself with me.

I crave the push of his fingers on my scalp, and the sharp but brief flare of pain when he tugs my hair. Another tug makes me moan, then I'm on my back and he's on top of me, and my body melts beneath him like it knows what to do.

I'm spreading my legs, already so ready for him a few well-timed thrusts would break me apart, when I freeze.

I pull my head away. "Cain," I say. Why is my voice choked? Why are my cheeks wet?

He doesn't answer at first, but kisses my temple, my damp cheeks, then my lips again before he grates, "What, baby? Let me in you, Violet. We're alone here. The doors are locked, and if we want fucking Armand to believe we're really together…"

I shake my head. "No. We can't fuck this up. We have to stay focused, because this is crucial." My voice breaks. "It's why I came here."

With reluctance I feel deep, deep in my belly, he pulls himself off of me, but not before he brushes his lips against my cheek, then lifts my fingers and kisses them, too. "Here, Violet. Press your fingers to your lips when you want to remember me kissing you."

I watch him go. It feels heavy and dark when he turns away from me.

He flicks on his phone and taps the screen. "We're going to separate now," he says in that deep voice of his I love so much. "Team ready?"

"Ready," Joe says.

Cain curses and hangs up the phone. "Fine. Now it's time. Mother fucker. " He stabs his fingers through his hair and yanks the car door open. "No matter what, Violet. No matter if you leave me or I get shot or whatever the fuck happens next… I love you. Keep the boots, and the puppy, and anything you fucking want, and know I love you."

I open my mouth to respond just as the truck door slams.

I know what I have to do. I have my whole plan carefully choreographed, and now I only have to make it work. But my legs don't want to work, and my heart… my heart's still joined with his.

He loves me. And he didn't have to say it out loud to make it so.

He loves me.

I turn to exit the truck. I will my body to move, to cooperate with the plan. To make this happen.

I didn't come this far to fail in the face of victory, knowing I'm so close to the Holy Grail. I tap the barrel of my gun for reassurance. My Wilson. It's the tool I need most right now.

I open my door. Cain smiles at me. It's all part of our act. "See you at dinner, baby." He takes a few steps toward me, gathers me to his chest, then kisses my cheek.

"Bye, honey," I say, part of my act again, a role I need to play. "I love you."

That didn't… feel like an act, though. It didn't.

He turns from me and stalks away.

It feels final. It feels real, and I hate that it does.

I lift my chin, remembering the first time here with him, when we rescued his sister. I shiver when a cold, brisk wind stirs around me, biting straight through the thin fabric of my top, and briefly wonder why the seasons change. Perhaps to remind us that the passing of seasons is like the passing of time, so gradual it's hardly noticeable until you look up one day and realize everything's changed.

I walk with my head down, my gun tucked safely beneath the long coat I wear. I won't use it, not now, but I'm ready for if I do. If we were followed, Cain believes that Armand will approach me any minute now. I turn to an ice cream shop, closed now that we're getting closer to winter, and finally find a hot coffee and cider stand at the very end of the boulevard.

That ought to do it. Order a cup of coffee, pretend all is good… and he'll come out of hiding. And if not… plan B.

I go up to the coffee counter and wait behind several customers, my hands shoved into my pockets. "I'll take a tall dark espresso, black, no sugar," I order, when I feel someone step up behind me. Out of my peripheral vision, I see a familiar face. I turn with a half-smile as my coffee's placed in my hand.

"Hello, Armand."