I can pinpoint the exact moment that my words register in Dax’s brain. The exact moment that all he knew implodes. All blown apart.
My beautiful man, hit with a force that has the power to destroy him.
The air leaves his lungs, a groan and a gasp all in one.
Then silence.
Silence as his grip falters around the gun.
“No.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against his skin. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s not true, Rose. Who told you that?”
“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I wish it weren’t.”
I look up at him and his eyes are round and pained.
“I found old accounts. Transactions to an account in his name. Your grandparents paid him off when your mom and him began dating. They had suspicions about him. They were trying to protect her. They didn’t want him anywhere near her. I didn’t want to believe it. But then I found letters from your mom in the attic. They confirmed it. She told them it was their fault her baby had no father. That she knew what they’d done. She said she knew they’d forced Julian away. He is your father.”
“No.” He screws his face up and looks back at Julian, his arm shooting out straight again. “Don’t fucking move!”
Julian’s staring at the two of us, listening to every word.
“Dax, please.”
He glances at me, then back to Julian. A vein throbs in his temple and his jaw is set solid.
“I can’t share this asshole’s blood, Rose.” He sucks in a breath, his eyes growing wide as he trains them on Julian. They’re dark, darker than I’ve ever seen them. Intent on target. Like a killer. “I can’t be anything like him.”
“You’re not!” I cry, twisting my wrists in the tie until warm stickiness drips into my palms. I need to hold him. I need to show him that I know he’s nothing like Julian, blood or not.
“Jessica?”
“Don’t fucking say her name!” Dax roars at Julian as he stares at Dax like he’s seeing him for the first time.
“The Jessica I knew was never pregnant. And she wasn’t Jessica Silver,” Julian says.
But the narrowing of Julian’s eyes as he studies Dax’s face gives away his uncertainty. Despite all the blood, it’s there. The blond hair. The height. The strong jawline.
Dax looks like his father.
The man he hates.
He looks like Julian Young.
“She would use my grandmother’s maiden name when she went out. She said she only attracted pricks after her money if she told them she was a Silver,” Dax spits.
Julian’s eyes bug in his head before he recovers. Then slowly he begins to laugh. And it’s a sound that will haunt me. Worse than any crazed laugh of any horror movie I’ve watched. The sound of true evil. “That money… that anonymous fucking money. She was a fucking Silver?” Julian continues to laugh, distorting his bloody face further. “I would have left her for nothing. If only they’d waited.”
“You won’t be laughing when your brains are on the bottom of my shoes.” Dax keeps the gun perfectly aimed.
“Put the gun down.”
I glance at the stranger who appeared earlier. The one who knew my name. The one Dax seemed to recognise. The one whose gun was aimed at Julian but is now pointed at Dax.
“Listen to him,” I plead, pressing my lips to Dax’s throat, and squeezing my eyes shut as I kiss his skin. “Please, Dax. We can talk about everything. Don’t make me go home alone.” His neck relaxes a little with my contact, and he swallows, setting the movement flowing past my lips as I kiss him again.
“Step back, Rose,” the stranger says.
I shake my head, my eyes burning. “Why? So you can shoot him?” I move closer to Dax, pressing myself against his chest, my lungs burning as I suck in the night air. “You’ll have to shoot me too.”
I turn my attention back to Dax, my lips grazing his cheek as I speak to him. “Put the gun down. You’re nothing like him. You will never be anything like him.” I move back to study Dax’s face. He’s still staring at Julian, his nostrils flaring as Julian continues to laugh.
“You’re no son of mine,” Julian finally snorts, his laughter ending abruptly. “I’ve already got one son who can’t shoot a gun to save his ass. I wouldn’t be cursed enough to have two. If you were mine, you’d have pulled that trigger by now.”
Dax stiffens.
“Never were able to finish a job, were you? Not when you almost had me three years ago. And not now, either.” Julian spits a globule of blood and what looks like a tooth out onto the ground. “Tell you what. I’ll let her live.” He looks at me. “I’ll let her and your sister live. My actual son seems to like her. Idiot thinks he kept it a secret, but I know what goes on. Kind of poetic, really. He falls for her. I take your business. She won’t be able to handle it all once you’re locked up again. She’ll sign it over to me faster than your mom could spread her legs.”
“You bastard! I’ll kill you!”
I use my body to hold Dax back as fury erupts from him like a fireball.
“Dax.” I struggle, forcing myself in front of his eyeline so he can’t aim the gun. “Dax.”
He finally focuses on me.
Light blue meets deep brown.
Time stalls as I soak up the pain in his eyes. If I take away as much as I can, pull it away, like a magnet. Draw it to me. Then maybe he won’t look so broken.
Maybe I won’t feel broken.
His lips part, and he lifts his free hand to my cheek, his palm barely making contact before he’s ripped away by two men in black SWAT style uniforms. Armed cops. They grab his arms, disarming him and pulling him away from me.
“Stop!” I shout, but I can’t do anything. “Stop!”
No one is listening.
Blue and red flashing lights make it hard to see. Stinging my eyes. And the sounds of sirens and screeching tires ringing in my ears as the yard fills with squad cars.
“Stop!” My voice grows hoarse as hands appear and take hold of my arms, pulling me in the other direction.
Away from him.
“We’re police officers. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
Why are they saying that? Why are they taking me away from him? I was never in any danger. It’s Dax. He would never hurt me.
I fight against the hands to get to him. He’s thrashing around, trying to fight off the officers as he calls to me. Two more join in to overpower him.
“Rose!”
I pull as hard as I can, trying to get to him.
“Don’t take him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Get your hands off him!” I scream and I fight as hard as I can while Dax does the same.
Then the stranger with the gun, the one who shot Julian’s men walks over to Dax and says something to him. And it’s like a light turns off. Dax’s chest caves in on itself and he stares at me.
“What’s wrong? Dax!” I struggle to try to get to him, but he turns his head and lets the officers push him down into a waiting squad car. “Dax!” My chest burns as my body is stripped of oxygen from all my screaming.
I gulp in deep breaths as I’m pulled further away and over to the back of an ambulance where I can no longer see him.
“We’ll get you checked over. Your wrists need attention.”
“Where are they taking him?”
A female medic begins checking me over while one of the officers still holding onto me says, “He’s been arrested.”
The medic smiles at me kindly as the other officer cuts the tie behind my back, and I bring my bloodied wrists forward. I could make a run for it. The officer who’s still holding me tightens their grip on my upper arm as if reading my thoughts.
“But he’s done nothing wrong.”
The medic extends one of my arms and examines my wrist. It should hurt.
But I feel nothing.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” I repeat.
But no one is listening.
“Tell us again about what happened when you went to New York?”
“I’ve already told you.” I drop my head into my hands, exasperated, as the officer repeats the same question.
Jasmin places a fresh cup of coffee down on the table and wraps an arm around my shoulders as she sits next to me on the sofa in the cottage’s living room.
“She’s told you already. My brother’s innocent. He was only pretending to work for Julian Young to get evidence to use against him. You should be dealing with him, not wasting your time here. He’s the real criminal.”
“We’re aware of Mr. Young’s business he was running, and that’s being dealt with.”
Jasmin snorts.
“But,” the plain clothed officer continues, “we’re still conducting inquiries into missing items related to our investigation.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Logan stands in a rush and drags his hands back through his hair, pacing up and down as the officer looks at him with a raised brow. “You’re not suggesting Dax smuggled shit for that asshole, are you? He wouldn’t do that. I know him.”
“Could you please answer the question, Miss Jacobs?” The officer looks back at me.
I drag in an exhausted breath. I’ve barely slept. I was taken to the hospital for a check-up last night, despite insisting I was fine. And Jasmin came to collect me from the hospital while Logan went to the station to talk to Dax. But they wouldn’t let him see him. The three of us are all bloodshot-eyed and running on caffeine this morning.
And Dax is still in a holding cell somewhere.
I press my fingertips into my eye sockets and try to ignore the pounding at the base of my skull.
“We flew in. We both went through customs. Dax helped me get a taxi outside. And then he went back inside to check in for his flight to LA.”
“Did he seem on edge?”
“No.”
“How about his luggage? Was he carrying more than you’d expect for the length of the trip? Was he acting unusual? Being extra protective over it?”
“No.” The back of my neck burns.
“You really think my brother would do anything like that? What is it you think he had?” Jasmin asks.
“We can’t disclose that information,” the officer answers.
Jasmin curses under her breath beside me as goosebumps scatter up my arms.
New York.
The officer asks some more questions, which Jasmin and Logan answer, while I sit in stony silence, and then he and his colleague finally leave.
“What the hell was that all about?” Logan walks back into the living area after showing them to the door.
“Ridiculous,” Jasmin mutters. “They’re being ridiculous. Dax always said he’s looked at differently since he was convicted. He’s done his time. Why can’t they see that? This all started because of Julian Young, he’s the real criminal. Dax isn’t… he’s…” She covers her eyes with her hand and lowers her head as tears drop onto her cream skirt.
“We know that. And they’ll see that. They will,” Logan says, his voice stronger than I feel.
“He’ll hate it in there. It’ll be eating him up. You know how he was when he was first released. He’ll hate it.” Jasmin cries harder as I lift my puffy eyes to meet Logan’s.
“I’ll head down to the station again.” He looks from me to Jasmin. “See what I can find out. See how he’s doing. The lawyer’s there now. She’s the best there is.”
I nod at Logan as he leaves, grateful for any information he might be able to get for us.
My gorgeous Dax, I hope you’re doing okay. Just hold on. You’ll be out soon. Just hold on.
Jasmin lifts her head and dabs under her eyes. It’s just the two of us now. The two women who care about Dax the most in the world, left with more questions than answers.
“I’m worried about him, Rose,” she sniffs. “He won’t be doing well. Not if they’re holding him in a cell.”
It’s my turn to wrap my arm around her in an effort to provide some comfort. Because I know that that’s exactly where Dax will be. In some cold, drafty cell. Or worse, in a windowless room being interrogated.
He hasn’t done anything wrong.
Jasmin’s phone vibrates on the coffee table, and she picks it up with a trembling hand.
“It’s Alistair.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
She shakes her head and presses connect, putting the call on speaker.
“Jaz, Honey? Are you there?”
“I’m here.” A soft smile crosses Jasmin’s face at his warm, deep voice on the line. “You’re on speaker. I’m sitting with Rose.”
“Rose,” the warm voice says, “I wish we were talking for the first time under different circumstances.”
“Me too.” I curl my lips as much as I can manage at Jasmin as she grabs my free hand and holds it.
Alistair sighs. “I’m so sorry. Dad, he… Shit.”
The agony in his voice is palpable. It reaches through the phone and joins us in the room as though it’s sitting here with us. A dark force taking up a seat on the sofa. I bet Alistair’s eyes are red and puffy too, and that he didn’t get any sleep last night either. Jasmin told me they spent hours waiting together at the hospital.
I hope someone made sure Dax got checked over. He wasn’t hurt, but… I squeeze my eyes shut as they sting.
“They’ve arrested him,” Alistair says. “His entire business, his assets, they’ve all been frozen. They’ve been working on getting him for years. Fuck, I even wanted him to get caught. I was even looking into things, I was—”
“But he’s still your dad,” I finish for him, opening my eyes and inhaling slowly.
“Yeah.” The line crackles as his breath vibrates through the speaker. “Yeah, he’s still my dad.”
Jasmin squeezes my hand tighter, her eyes shining with fresh tears as she looks at me.
She knows.
Everyone knows now, including Alistair.
Dax is Julian Young’s biological son. And Alistair’s half-brother.
It’s all too crazy to believe. But after everything that’s happened with Brett, and Dad, and then Casey before this… Crazy seems like my new normal. Anything less wouldn’t fit.
“The police have just been here. They already asked Rose and I a load of questions at the hospital.”
“They’ve been here too, Babe. Going over the same stuff,” Alistair says.
“They kept asking about the trip to New York, making out Dax took something there.” Jasmin looks at me in disbelief as she talks. “It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. They wouldn’t even tell us what they think it was.” She looks at the phone and Alistair’s photo on the screen. He’s got brown hair and green eyes. He must take after his mom. But his jawline is similar to Dax’s. And his nose too, come to think of it.
The longer I look at the screen, the more resemblance he has to Dax. I stare until I’m forced to turn away and look out of the front window instead.
It’s all too much.
How is he?
“He never would,” Jasmin continues talking. “He just wouldn’t. And besides, he’s not stupid. He knows if he got caught with anything, he’d be straight back to jail with his record.”
I sit as the two of them continue talking, no longer listening, my entire body blanketed in numbness. The kind that your body might use as a survival technique when you’ve had a shock. When the reality is too horrendous to process without you becoming hysterical.
“Go on, I’ll catch you up.”
I sit frozen as my mind replays that day.
“Why don’t you smile at Mr. Fun and see if you can cheer him up?”
Dax didn’t take his bags through customs in JFK airport.
I did.
Because he insisted I go ahead without him while he went to the restroom.
He came through afterward.
With nothing.
I took it for him.
Whatever it was. He had it. And he made me his mule. His pawn.
If he lied to me about that, what else has he lied about?
