Present
MY PHONE VIBRATED, and I let out a low groan as I opened my eyes and reached behind my head, fumbling for it on the end table. Grabbing it, I yanked it off the cord, my mouth stretching in a yawn as I swiped the screen and saw that I’d missed the call.
Three missed calls, actually. Trevor, Noah, and Mrs. Crist.
Jesus. Why so early? But then I blinked again, widening my eyes, as I saw the time in the top right-hand corner.
Ten o’clock!
“Shit!” I gasped, popping my head up off the sofa. “Dammit!”
I jumped to my feet, knowing I wouldn’t have time for a shower. I was supposed to be meeting with my advisor right now.
Son of a bitch! I hated being late.
I dashed into the hallway, but then I caught myself, halting as I spotted the massive splash of red in front of me and remembering what I’d done last night.
That was why I’d been up so late. I straightened, gazing at the wall I’d painted and decorated.
After Michael had sauntered out of here, I’d been so angry I had a fit. But unlike a kid that cries, screams, and hits, I’d painted, pounded, and wore myself out instead. I wasn’t even sure if I was allowed to change the wall color, but I hadn’t cared.
Michael’s smug assumption that I was at the mercy of everyone else in my life—and how fragile I was—had gotten under my skin, and I’d needed to change something. Maybe he thought I was still a school girl, naïve and inexperienced, but he didn’t have me pegged as well as he thought he did.
I hoped I wouldn’t see him today. Or regularly for that matter.
I gazed at the color that reminded me of Christmas and apples, roses, and rows of Autumn Blaze Maples I’d seen as a kid. Of fire and hair ribbons and my mother’s evening dresses.
I’d also hung some photographs I’d brought with me, as well as the Damascus blade on the wall. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that it was from one of the horsemen. Or all of them. The mysterious gift along with their sudden appearance in Thunder Bay were too coincidental.
But why would they leave it for me? And did Michael have anything to do with it?
My phone beeped with a voicemail, and I blinked, remembering the time.
Shit.
I raced into my room and threw on some clothes and tied my hair up in a ponytail. Grabbing my brown leather school bag, wallet, and phone, I ran out of the apartment and hurried into the elevator, casting a quick glance to the other penthouse door down the hall.
I hadn’t heard any other noises after Michael had left last night, but someone was in that apartment. I’d have to try to catch the manager today. I didn’t feel safe, especially after being chased in the stairwell.
“Good morning, Miss Fane,” Mr. Patterson greeted as I walked off the elevator.
“Morning,” I called, giving him a quick smile as I dashed past the reception desk and out the spinning doors.
I stepped right onto the sidewalk, immediately caught in the bustle and noise of the city. People walked to and from work or carried on with their daily errands, moving quickly around slower pedestrians and veering across the street through the blares of taxi horns and whistles.
The clouds overhead hung low and looked smoky with a tinge of deep purple, and the breeze blew cool, despite being late August. I inhaled the smell of earth, even though everything around me was brick and concrete. I turned right, hurrying in the direction of Trinity College.
After apologizing like crazy, I got my advisor to squeeze me in between appointments, and we were able to finalize my schedule, as well as my long-term plan. Classes started in a couple of days, so it was a relief to touch base with her and start the year off right.
Afterward, I hit the bookstore for a few paperbacks that had been added to my reading list, picked up a coffee, and strolled the surrounding area, taking in the shops, the unusually cool day, and the beauty of the dark city.
I loved it here.
This bustling metropolis was second to none with its arts culture, libraries, and museums. The variety of fare offered at the restaurants kept even the pickiest diners entertained, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the trees lining the sidewalks and the plants and hedges that sat in flowerbeds outside of buildings. It was truly stunning and unique.
But there was a dark allure about it as well.
How the tall skyscrapers blocked out the light. How the cover of trees in the park surrounded you in a cave-like canopy, turning the green grass nearly black. How the silent alleys were lost in the fog in the early mornings, leaving you to wonder what was in there, because you know you’d never be so brave as to see for yourself. I think the dark side of Meridian City was what I loved most when I’d visited as a kid.
My phone buzzed against my leg, and I reached into my satchel as I strolled down the sidewalk, picking out my cell phone.
Seeing a number I didn’t recognize, I inhaled a deep breath, guessing who it probably was.
Trevor wasn’t allowed a cell phone at the academy, so I guessed the strange number was from a calling card. I’d had plenty of experience during his Plebe summer training.
“Is that you, Midshipman?” I answered, trying to tease. I’d probably see Trevor here and there for the rest of my life—our families being so close—and I wanted to be on good terms with him.
“How’s your first day in the big city?” he asked, sounding a lot more relaxed than he was at the party.
“Great.” I tossed my coffee in the garbage can I passed and kept walking. “I was just at the bookstore getting the rest of my texts.”
“Good, and how’s your apartment?”
I breathed out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Big. As I’m sure you know. I love your mom, Trevor, but she could’ve left this one alone, you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The apartment in your family’s building…” I hinted.
He must’ve known about it, since he assumed I would see Michael.
“What do you mean, my family’s building?” His voice turned sharp.
“Delcour,” I told him. “I didn’t know it was a Crist building.”
“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re living at Delcour? Why didn’t you tell me that?”
I didn’t answer, confused as to why that was important to him in the first place. During the summer, I’d only mentioned finding an apartment but no details. And he hadn’t asked.
Was there something wrong with Delcour? Other than I’d gotten a little played in order to live there?
“Rika,” Trevor started, sounding rigid. “Find something else.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you there.”
“Why?” I pressed again.
His parents had tricked me into leasing the apartment, not telling me it was their building, and now Trever was ordering me out. I’d had enough of people telling me what to do.
“You really have to ask that?” he snapped. “Get your stuff and go to a hotel until you find another place. I mean it. You’re not living at Delcour.”
I stood there with my mouth slightly open, not understanding what the hell his problem was. Delcour belonged to his family. If anything, why wouldn’t he want me to stay there? And what did he think, ordering me around? He knew better.
“Look,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s got great security, and even though it’s not what I had planned, school starts in two days. I don’t want to move while I’m in the middle of classes.”
Not if I didn’t have to, anyway.
“I don’t want you there,” he reiterated, barking his order. “Do you understand?”
I clenched my teeth. “No,” I gritted out. “I don’t understand, because you’re not explaining it to me. And the last time I checked, you’re not my father.”
I heard his bitter laugh on the other end. “You probably planned this, didn’t you? You knew exactly what you were doing.”
I shook my head, closing my eyes. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I no longer cared. “I’m not moving. I don’t want to.”
“No. I don’t suppose you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I shot out.
But then my phone beeped again, and I pulled it away from my ear seeing Call Ended. I dropped my head back, exasperated. What the hell?
Why wouldn’t Trevor want me at Delcour? He hated Meridian City, but what did Delcour have to do with that?
And then I lifted my chin, closing my eyes as realization hit.
Michael. Trevor hated Michael, and Michael was at Delcour. He didn’t want him around me.
But if Michael didn’t give me the time of day at home, nothing would be any different here. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even know he lived at Delcour if I hadn’t run into him last night. I had no reason to think I’d see him on a regular basis.
I let out a sigh and ran my fingers across my forehead, wiping away the light layer of sweat. The argument had me heated now.
And with energy to spare.
I gripped the phone, feeling the hilt of a blade in my fist and the fire in my legs to move.
Bringing up my phone, I typed in a search for “fencing clubs.”
“HELLO.” I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK of Hunter-Bailey, seeing the attendant’s head pop up. “I saw online that you have a fencing club, and I was wondering if you have open bouting nights.”
He pinched his eyebrows together, looking confused. “Excuse me?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Hunter-Bailey was reputed to have one of the most active fencing clubs in the state with private lessons and a large area for group workouts. It was also the only location in the city to offer fencing.
The facility was a little more intense than the Thunder Bay Rec Center that I was used to, though. Massive area rugs adorned the hardwood floors, while dark wood made up the stairs and all of the furniture. The upholstery was kept to dark tones like forest green, black, and midnight blue, and the place was old, dark, and very male. I’d also noticed the fancy marble dome ceiling and stained glass windows when I’d walked in.
“Fencing,” I clarified, looking at the young man dressed in a suit. “I’m looking for a club. I’ll purchase a membership if I need to.”
I really didn’t need classes. I’d been studying nearly my entire life. But I would love a chance to connect with other fencers, pair up for practice bouts, and make some friends.
But the guy was looking at me like I was speaking in Japanese.
“Rika,” a deep voice called, and I twisted my head, seeing Michael walk across the foyer from the front doors.
What was he doing here?
He approached me, wearing loose jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, everything he wore always accentuating his chest, arms, and height. A gym bag hung off his shoulder with a black sweater draped over it.
“What do you want?” His sharp tone bit.
I opened my mouth. “I…um—”
“You know this young woman, Mr. Crist?” the clerk asked, chiming in.
Michael stared at me, looking none too pleased with running into me, either. “Yes.”
The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, she’s interested in joining our fencing club, sir.”
The corner of Michael’s mouth quirked in a grin, and he nodded at the clerk. “I’ll take care of it.”
I watched the clerk disappear into the back, leaving us alone in the quiet area, distant voices from the closed doors behind me drifting through.
I gripped the strap of my satchel lying across my chest. “I didn’t know you fenced.”
“What makes you think I fence?”
I looked around, indicating where we were. “Well, you’re in a fencing club.”
“No,” he drawled out, looking amused. “I‘m in a gentlemen’s club.”
A gentlemen’s club. Like a strip club?
But looking around, I didn’t see anything that gave the indication that there were pole dancers, private rooms, or lap dances being performed here.
Hunter Bailey was pristine, elegant, and old, like a museum where you were told to be quiet and not touch anything.
I shook my head, befuddled. “I’m lost. What do you mean?”
He let out a sigh, tipping his chin down and looking at me like his patience was wearing thin. “This is Hunter-Bailey, an exclusive men’s club, Rika,” he explained. “A place where guys go to work out, swim, steam, drink, and bullshit away from all the people that bug the shit out of them.”
Bug the shit out of them?
“Like women?” I guessed.
He just stared at me, holding the strap of his bag with his head slightly cocked.
“So…” I looked around and then back to him, “women aren’t actually allowed in here then?”
“Nope.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
No wonder the clerk had looked at me so funny. Why didn’t they post a sign outside saying No Women Allowed then?
But…I guessed that would probably just make women want to come in more.
Michael stepped up to me. “When women get to enjoy Ladies Night Out specials or their own private workout area at a gym, it’s okay, but when a guy wants their own space, it’s archaic?”
I held his hazel eyes, the golden amber in them taunting and playing with me like a cat with a mouse. He had a point, and he knew it. It was okay for men to want their own space. No harm. No foul.
But it aggravated me that they offered something I enjoyed and I was shut out.
I shrugged. “I just wanted to fence, and this town is limited as far as facilities go, so…”
“So I’m sorry more women don’t take an interest for you to have your own club,” he replied flatly, sounding not the least bit sorry. “Now it’s raining outside. Do you need a ride back to Delcour?”
I dropped my gaze, noticing the small, dark splotches on his shoulders. The rain must’ve started right after I’d stepped inside.
I shook my head, seeing very clearly that he was trying to get rid of me.
“Fine.” He veered around me to the wooden double doors, and I took a step, ready to leave. But then I spotted a tweed ivy cap sitting on a stack of antique books on top of a curio cabinet.
I smiled, biting my bottom lip, because I couldn’t stop myself. Without hesitating, I dropped my bag on the floor, ran over and snatched up the cap, and then darted up the stairs, taking two at a time as I stuck the hat on my head. I stuffed my ponytail inside, hiding my hair underneath the hat.
“Erika!” Michael’s voice boomed behind me.
But I didn’t stop. My heart raced, and I squeezed my fists, the adrenaline making them tingle. Reaching the second floor, I darted around the corner, quickly stuffing any stray hairs up underneath the cap and hurrying down the hall.
I heard the stairs creek behind me, and I glanced back, not seeing Michael but hearing his footfalls as he powered after me.
Shit. I almost laughed, remember all those years ago when he’d found me at the catacombs. He liked my curiosity then, I think, and even had fun indulging me. And then immediately after that night he pulled back as if nothing had happened.
Maybe he’d remember.
I speed-walked down the hall, hearing banter and laughter around me as I passed several open doors. But I didn’t stop to look.
Two men in suits, one of them holding a cigar, came in my direction down the hall, laughing with each other. I dipped my head, knowing that my figure did nothing to disguise that I was a woman.
Passing them by, I saw one do a double take out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t stop me.
Reaching the end of the hall, I opened the door and entered, quickly closing it behind me. I let out a breath, not knowing if Michael saw where I went, but I didn’t mind him finding me, anyway. That was the point, after all.
Turning around, I noticed a boxing ring sitting in the center of the room. It was surrounded by a variety of equipment and punching bags, as well as fifteen or so men, working out, sparring, and chatting. I quickly stepped behind one of the many columns spread throughout the room, looking around the corner to make sure no one had seen me.
The door behind me opened, and I jerked my head, seeing Michael step through, hell written all over his face.
He closed the door, straightened, and pinned me with his look that said my ass was grass.
Crooking his finger, he mouthed “come here” as he slowly approached me, probably trying to keep my antics quiet so I wouldn’t embarrass him.
I tried to hold back my smile, but I knew he saw it.
Instead, I played. Spinning around, I walked around the perimeter of the room, careful to stay behind the columns. Then I slipped through another door, seeing him come after me, his lips tight, before I closed it on him.
But as soon as I looked down, saw the slate tile and heard the running water, I knew I’d fucked up.
“Shit,” I growled in a whisper.
I hesitated, thinking about going back, but I knew Michael was coming that way.
Putting my head down, I followed the short tunnel, passing a steam room, a sauna, and two large Jacuzzis, feeling eyes on me, and not so much as breathing as I passed a few guys lounging about on couches around the spa. Dashing into the adjoining locker room, I looked up and saw a young, blond-haired man coming my way, so I veered to the left, down an empty aisle and heard more voices. I stopped and hid myself at the end of a row of lockers.
Doors slammed on my left, two men chatted on my right, and Michael would be on my back any second.
I leaned against the cold steel, looking around and trying to figure out where the exit was. If there even was another one.
But then I jerked, a locker door slamming and its vibrations hitting my back.
“Mr. Torrance,” a man called. “There’s no smoking in here.”
“Fuck off.”
And chills immediately spread down my arms, making my heart skip a beat. I stilled, afraid to move.
I knew that voice. Mr. Torrance.
Slowly turning my head, I twisted my body around completely and inched toward the edge of the lockers. I peered around the side just enough, hoping not to see what I knew I would.
A lump stretched my throat. “Oh, shit,” I whispered.
Damon Torrance.
He sat in a cushioned chair, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, droplets of water glistening down his neck, arms, and torso—bare since he only wore a towel around his waist.
He pinched a cigarette between his fingers and brought it to his lips, the ashen end burning orange as he inhaled. Then, just as I remember, he blew it out slowly, letting it drift up instead of out, looking more like fog than smoke as it dissipated in the air above him.
My stomach churned at the stench, bringing back memories of that night. I’d had to take two showers to get that smell off me.
I may have felt a little bad over the years about what happened to his friends, but to him…not so much.
Suddenly, a hand came down on my mouth, and I sucked in a quick breath, rearing back against a hard chest.
“I don’t have time for this,” Michael warned in my ear.
He released me, and I spun around, looking up at him. His eyes were hot with anger, and I guessed my plan hadn’t worked. He wasn’t amused.
“How come I didn’t know that your friends were out?” I asked quietly.
“What interest is it of yours?”
What interest of mine? A lot, actually. I’d been with all of them the night before they were arrested. And more happening later on that night that Michael probably wasn’t aware of.
“I just thought it would’ve been a big deal,” I said, keeping my voice down. “In Thunder Bay, anyway. I hadn’t heard anything about their release, which seems strange.”
“What’s strange is that I’m still standing here wasting my time with you.” He dipped his head down, hovering close. “Are you done yet?”
I stared ahead, his chest level with my gaze, and I dug in my eyebrows, trying to stay the ache behind my eyes.
I opened my mouth, speaking softly. “You don’t have to…” I trailed off, unable to look at him.
“To what?”
I hardened my jaw to keep my chin from trembling as I looked up at him. “To speak to me like that. You don’t have to be so mean.”
He continued to stare down at me, his entire face hard and frozen.
“There was a time,” I went on, softening my expression, “when you did like talking to me. Do you remember? When you noticed me and looked at me and—”
But I stopped, seeing his face inch closer as he planted his hands on the column behind my head.
“There are some places that aren’t for you,” he said slowly, filling each word with meaning as if talking to a child. “When you’re wanted, you’re invited. If you’re weren’t invited, then you weren’t wanted. Does that makes sense?”
He peered down at me, looking like he was explaining why I needed to eat my vegetables before dessert.
It’s an easy enough concept, after all, Rika. Why can’t you understand it? He was saying that I was in the way and a bother. He didn’t want me around.
“You don’t belong here, and you’re not welcome. Do you understand?” he asked again.
I glued my teeth together, air pouring in and out of my nose as I tensed every goddamn muscle in my body, trying not to break. Lightning struck behind my eyes, making them ache and burn, and I don’t remember ever feeling like this. He’d ignored me, condescended, and insulted on occasion, but the cruelty hurt beyond words.
“That was English, Rika,” he barked, making me jump. “A dog listens better than you.”
Tears immediately pooled, and my chin trembled. I swallowed the lump, feeling my stomach ache, and I felt like I wanted to sink into a hole, disappear, and forget.
Before he could enjoy the satisfaction of seeing me crumble, I shot out, pushing his arm away and breaking into tears as I ran back the way I came. Everything in my sight blurred as I passed the spas again and yanked open the locker room door, hurrying out as I fought against the sobs in my throat.
The hat spilled off my head, falling to the ground and freeing my ponytail. I ran through the boxing gym, not giving a shit who saw me, and pulled open the next door, wiping away the tears as I dashed into the hallway and down the stairs.
But then I crashed into another person halfway down, and I stopped, jerking my head up and my insides going cold.
“Kai?” I nearly whispered, stunned to see him.
And confused.
Damon was here. Kai was here. Was Will as well? Were they all in Meridian City? I hadn’t been certain if Michael even kept in touch with them while they were in jail, but it was obvious now that he had.
Kai cocked his head and took his hand out of his black pants, placing it on my arm to stable me. But I pulled my arm away.
He stared at me, his white shirt and black suit coat neatly pressed, making him look just as good-looking as ever, although much more muscular than the last time I’d seen him.
I heard hard footsteps behind me and jerked my head around, seeing Michael come around the corner.
They were all together again?
I shot around Kai, continued down the stairs, and grabbed my bag off the floor before dashing out the door. Michael was one thing, but I didn’t want to be around his friends.
“Rika!” I heard Michael yell behind me.
But the door closed, cutting him off, and I raced off the steps, the cool rain hitting my hair, face, and arms.
I hooked the bag over my head and ignored the valet attendant holding an umbrella out for me. “Need a cab, miss?”
I shook my head and turned right, heading down the sidewalk as light droplets covered my arms.
“Get my car!” I heard a bellow behind me and turned to see Michael barking at the attendant.
He then turned, locking eyes with me, and I spun back around, hurrying away from him.
“Stop!” he ordered.
I pivoted on my heel, walking backward and crying out, “I’m gone! Okay? What more do you want?”
Turning around again, I hurried along the sidewalk.
But then Michael grabbed my bag strap and yanked it over my head, my neck twisting as he pulled it off.
I jerked around. “What the hell are you doing?”
He just walked away from me, though, carrying my bag as he stepped up to his car, the valet attendant handing him his keys.
Michael swung open one of the back doors and tossed my bag in, my phone and house keys with it, and stepped up to the front passenger-side door, pulling it open.
“Get in!” he demanded, anger written all over his face.
I breathed hard, shaking my head. What the fuck? I was half-tempted to beg the manager for a new set of keys and go buy a new fucking phone, just to show him.
But my books were in there, my class schedule, not to mention the birth certificate and immunization records that I’d had to let the admissions office make copies of after I’d left my advisor earlier.
I scowled, the tears gone and rage in its place.
Stepping up to the car, I jumped into the passenger’s seat and yanked the door out of his grasp, closing it on my own. As soon as I saw him round the front of the car, making his way for the driver’s side, I twisted around, grabbed my bag out of the backseat, and pushed open the car door, darting out.
I didn’t make it far.
Before my ass was even off the seat, Michael’s hand crashed into my shoulder, grabbing my collar and hauling me back in.
I cried out, but he swiped the bag away and tossed it into the backseat once more.
“Mr. Crist, can I call for help?” The attendant appeared in my open door, sounding concerned.
Michael’s hand was on my collarbone, holding me to the seat, and my face started to crack again as tears pooled.
“Sir.” The attendant reached for me, concern on his face. “The young lady…”
“Don’t touch her,” Michael growled. “Close the door.”
The attendant’s mouth sat agape for a moment, looking like he wanted to argue, but he just looked at me and eventually backed away, shutting the door.
“I told you I didn’t need a ride home,” I gritted out. “You wanted me gone, so let me leave!”
He started up the car, the muscles in his neck flexing and his hair glistening with rain. “Last thing I need is my mother bitching, because you went crying,” he spat out.
My chest rose and fell, fury boiling under my skin as I turned around and planted my knees underneath me, leaning over to his side of the car.
“I’ve got more mettle than you give me credit for,” I yelled, “so you can go fuck yourself!”
He darted out, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and yanking me in. I whimpered, feeling the burn in my scalp from his fingers fisting in my hair.
“What do you want from me? Huh?” he asked, breathing hard and glaring at me. “What do you see in me that’s so fucking fascinating?”
I trembled, just holding his eyes. What did I see in him? The answer was so easy, I didn’t even have to think about it. It was the same thing he saw in me all those years ago down in the catacombs.
The hunger.
The need to break away, the desire to find the one person on the planet that would understand me, the temptation to go after all things they tell us we can’t have…
I saw me, and through all the times growing up that I felt alone or like I was searching for something I couldn’t put into words, I didn’t feel so lost when he was around.
It was the only time I didn’t feel lost.
I shook my head, dropping my eyes as a silent tear spilled over. “Nothing,” I nearly whispered, despair tightening my throat. “I’m just a stupid kid.”
I inched away, feeling him slowly release his grasp in my hair. Shifting my feet out from under me, I sat down on my seat and swallowed the hard lump in my throat, pulling the collar of my plaid shirt tighter around my neck, covering my left side.
He didn’t want to know me. He didn’t like me.
And I wanted that fact to stop hurting. I was so sick of dreaming.
Sick of having forced a relationship with Trevor, because I believed he would set me straight, and sick of wanting a nightmare that treated me like a dog.
Sick of both of them.
I straightened my back and stared at my lap, trying to force the weariness from my voice.
“I want to walk home,” I told him, grabbing my bag from the back and taking hold of the door handle.
And then I paused, still not looking at him. “I’m sorry about sneaking off inside. It won’t happen again.”
Opening the door, I immediately stepped out into the downpour, thunder cracking overhead as I took the long way home.
