Unforgiven: Sins and Secrets Series of Duets Book 2 Page 3

  She’d rather risk this than deal with me.

  My throat closes at the bitter thought, and the harsh wind makes me turn away from the screen for a moment. I can see exactly where she landed on the ground, and that she took off down the driveway. She hasn’t been gone long judging by how clean and clear the prints are.

  I can’t fucking breathe as I take off out of the room and down the stairs, and I don’t stop moving as I snatch my keys off the front hall table. My coat’s in the living room, but I don’t bother with it. I don’t bother with anything other than climbing into my car and reversing out of the driveway as quickly as I can.

  A thin layer of sweat covers my skin and only adds to the freezing effect of the air.

  If she tells anyone… I’m fucked.

  “She can’t,” I say under my breath, the vision of her testifying against me flashing in front of my eyes. I blink once and stare at her tracks on the side of the road. There’s hardly any snow on the asphalt, and her footprints disappear in less than a quarter mile. I don’t stop driving as I glance left and right down the vacant road. It’s early morning and I know there are plenty of cars that drive by here on their way to work.

  She doesn’t have any evidence. She has nothing, and there’s nothing the police would ever find. She doesn’t know shit. And she wouldn’t go to them. There’s no fucking way. But if not to the police, then where?

  I frown and pull over on the side of the road after a few miles. My heart’s racing, and I don’t know what the fuck she’s thinking.

  That I’m a murderer. That I’ll hurt her.

  I ignore the truth of my thoughts and keep pushing down the ache of how much it fucking hurts to know it.

  I don’t wait long before I come up with the plan to search her home. If not there, then her parents'. My tires squeal as I pull back onto the road, intent on finding her ass and bringing her back here. I just hope no one’s seen. I don’t need anyone else trying to keep her away from me.

  I lean over and click the radio off, only just now realizing it’s on and then turn the heat all the way up. I feel numb from the thoughts I’m having and from the wintry air. I take an easy breath, turning on my blinker to head onto a busier street. Act normal. Come up with a plan.

  The rumor is that Jules has had issues with alcohol ever since Jace’s death. I’d never talk about my sweetheart as if she were a drunk, but I have to use something that would make people question why she’d accuse me of something so horrendous as murder.

  I tap my thumb against the steering wheel.

  I don’t know if it would work. It'd be her word against mine. And there’s no real evidence.

  But I’d lose her.

  My family name would be called into question.

  My livelihood would be over.

  More than that, the only person I ever loved would be my downfall.

  A bitter huff of a humorless laugh leaves me as I look to my left and turn down the street.

  I could go away for life… or worse if the police do believe her and look into it. If they find something, or if the person who knows comes forward with their proof. I don’t give a fuck about that though. I haven’t known what love is since my mother died. But I know it’s what I feel for Jules.

  I’ve given her the power to ruin me. That’s what true love is.

  And if I let her get away, she’ll do it.

  She’ll destroy every piece of me.

  As the thought hits me, my phone rings from the passenger seat. I lean over and pick it up, answering without looking at who it is while I drive down Jules’ street.

  “Thatcher,” I answer the phone, hoping it’s her. Hoping she has some excuse, some reason for leaving. Hoping she’s only asking for time or space. I won’t give her either, but at least then I’ll know we have a chance.

  “Mason,” my father answers.

  “Father,” I respond, feeling my blood heat and my anxiety heighten.

  His voice is full of confidence but more than that, arrogance. “I have a little something I think you want.” I pull up alongside Jules’ street, but the only space available is a few doors down and I slow down to lean forward and look at her house. It’s still light outside, but not so much that I wouldn’t see lights on inside her house. I scan the windows as I absently answer, “And what would that be?”

  “I got a call from Commissioner Haynes.” My body stills as my father continues.

  His words snap my attention to him. Commissioner. She didn’t. I can’t breathe thinking that the moment she had a chance, she turned me in. “It seems your recent love interest has something urgent to confess.”

  If my father thinks she’s a threat, that’s a much more concerning issue.

  “She doesn’t know anything,” I’m quick to respond. I put the car in drive and speed down the street, cutting someone off and they lean on their horn. I have to weave through the few cars out this early in the morning to get down to Fourth Street. I need to get to her. “Don't touch her,” I breathe into the phone.

  “I wouldn’t dare,” my father answers, and I can practically see the smile on his face. Jules. I grit my teeth in anger. You’ve given him something you shouldn’t have.

  “I imagine you’ll be here soon?” he asks.

  “I’m ten minutes away from the station,” I answer begrudgingly. I hate that he’s involved and interfering, but if he wasn’t, she would have talked. She has no idea what she’s done. She’s put herself in danger.

  My foot presses down harder on the gas pedal with each passing thought. I need to get to Jules before she says a fucking word.

  Chapter 5

  Jules

  * * *

  Emotions don’t run still,

  They heat the night, yet dim the fire.

  There are dark times to fight,

  And times to give in to desire.

  But to bring someone death?

  There exists no just cause,

  To take another’s breath.

  * * *

  I’ve been picking at the same snarled thread on my sweater for nearly fifteen minutes now.

  My sneaker taps anxiously against the leg of the simple wooden table. Something feels off and wrong. I cross my arms and look away from the mirror.

  The man in the car kept asking me over and over again what was wrong, but I could barely speak. I was so cold, and nothing would come out except that I needed the police. I was lucky he pulled over and offered me a ride. He looked terrified for me, and approached me like I was some sort of wounded animal. His checkered sweater slid down his bony arms as he drove, and he kept looking over at me in the passenger seat. He had to be in his fifties, or maybe sixties. The wrinkles around his eyes told me he’s my father’s age.

  The way he looked at me made me feel like I was in trouble, like something horrible had happened. And certainly it has, but almost a year ago and I have no proof, no evidence. I feel cornered, and I don’t know if anyone is going to believe me. I need to tell someone though. I need help. I swallow thickly, realizing just how fucked up everything is.

  The man stayed with me while a young officer gave me a blanket and tried to calm me down. It was such a fucking spectacle, but even though they were kind and open I still couldn’t spit out the words.

  Then I was handed over to Detective Myer.

  He’s much too young for someone in his position, clean-shaven and tall with dark brown eyes. He’s all corded muscle, but he doesn’t have the broad shoulders or width to him to balance out his body. Even with his badge and prying stare, he doesn’t have an air around him that commands authority.

  There’s something else though, something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel as though I’m not safe. As though I should have changed my mind and walked back out into the snow and never stopped running.

  Maybe it’s all in my head, but he never asked any questions. He simply told me to follow him back here and sat me down while he went to talk to the commissioner. I’m alone and left wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.

  I’m riddled with guilt. Every tick of the clock makes me want to get up from this table. I’m going to choke on my words. I can’t do this. They’ll never believe me.

  Just as the thought hits me, the door opens and I stand out of instinct, and possibly fear. The need to run is overwhelming, but when my eyes catch sight of the imposing man walking in behind Detective Myer and another man who I assume is the commissioner, my knees go weak.

  I don’t need to be told he’s Mason’s father. I don’t need to be introduced. His grey eyes and sharp cheekbones give it away. He even clears his throat like Mason as he unbuttons his suit jacket and sits in the empty chair across from me.

  My eyes flicker to Detective Myer’s, who simply crosses his arms and leans against the wall in the far left corner. His eyes bore into me and send a chill down my spine. The commissioner makes a show of closing the door and then taking a seat on the far end of the table.

  “Sit, sit. Jules, isn’t it?” Mason’s father says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

  I lick my lips, feeling trapped. I obey him, falling into my seat and staring at the commissioner who isn’t looking at me at all. He’s picking at his nail beds instead. I look back to the mirror and pray there’s someone behind it watching this. Someone else. God, please help me.

  I’m not safe here. That’s the only thing I’m sure of. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

  “Good girl,” Mason’s father says, and it sickens me to my core. It’s something about the air of ownership he projects. Something about the way his words roll off his tongue. The fear is only partially brushed aside by my disgust, but I’m at least able to look him in the eyes.

  “Where’s Mason?” I ask him, although I don’t know how I got the courage to speak.

  His father’s eyes twinkle with something that brightens the grey. Something that makes my stomach churn.

  “Don’t worry; he’s coming shortly.” Mr. Thatcher looks over his shoulder at the detective. As his mouth opens with a question his straight white teeth peek out from behind his thin lips, but he’s interrupted by the door banging open.

  “I’m sorry, Detective Myer,” a young woman says from the hallway as Mason stands in the doorway, hovering in the opening with an authority that’s incomparable.

  And he’s pissed.

  The way his steel grey eyes seem to turn a sharp silver and pierce through me makes every tiny hair on my body stand on end. Every inch of my skin chills and then heats so quickly I can’t move. All I can do is stare into his eyes, caught in his gaze.

  He breaks it before I can relax, and only then can I breathe.

  My gaze turns to the floor as the shock withdraws, and my reality strikes me across the face.

  “Jules,” he says and Mason’s voice isn’t cold like I imagined it would be. I lift my eyes to his, and my heart beats in rhythm with the seconds that tick by ever so slowly. Tick, tick, tick. The room is silent as the other men wait for my reaction. I can’t give them anything though. I’m numb and useless with fear. My throat is dry, and I can barely manage to look Mason in the eyes. I pick at my sleeve and look back at the table, feeling defeated and foolish and guilty.

  How is it possible that guilt is what consumes me most?

  “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Mason asks me with sympathy in his voice as he pulls out the chair next to me. The legs scrape on the floor and Mason wraps his arm around the back of my chair as he sits close to me, but not an inch of him touches me. Not his arm, not his knee to mine. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his body, but he’s distant all the same.

  “Is something wrong?” he asks me, and I immediately shake my head no.

  I’m retreating like a coward. “I want to go home,” I speak just above a murmur, still not looking any of the men in the eye.

  “What’s that?” Detective Myer says from the corner of the room, pushing off of the wall and uncrossing his arms for the first time since he’s been in here.

  I clear my throat and ignore how scratchy my voice is as I repeat myself. “I want to go home.”

  The detective leans against the table, his palms flat as he waits for me to look up at him. His voice is strong and hard, filled with contempt as he says, “Issuing a false report and taking up the time-"

  Mason rises from the chair abruptly, leaning over the table and bracing his forearms in front of me as he gets in Myer’s face. “Shut the fuck up,” Mason says, cutting him off and speaking with a tone of malice that makes me flinch. “Don’t you dare threaten her.”

  Mason’s chiseled jaw is covered with stubble and the way it clenches while his hands fist on the table takes the commissioner by surprise. He visibly balks, and it’s then that Mason’s father pipes up.

  “Now, now. Miss Summers had something she wanted to say, Mason.” Mason’s head tilts slowly, daring his father to speak again, but the old man does just that, the glint in his eye ever present.

  He looks past Mason and asks me, “What was it that brought you here, Julia?”

  “Nothing,” I reply, and my voice croaks.

  “Oh come now,” Mr. Thatcher’s voice is lighthearted, but it’s never been more apparent how dark the situation has become. Do they already know? They must.

  And now they know that I know.

  “You can come to me with anything, Miss Summers,” Mason’s father says, staring me straight in the eyes as he continues, “I know everyone, Jules, and I’ll be sure you’re taken care of- “

  “Enough,” Mason practically growls at his father.

  His father finally takes his scrutinizing glare from me to give Mason his attention. “Just out of curiosity Mason, what little secret did you tell our Jules?”

  Mason ignores his father, taking my hand in his with a bruising force and leading me to the closed door. He rips it open so violently I swear he nearly pulls it off the hinges.

  “Go,” Mason commands me and I listen immediately, grateful to be getting the fuck out of here mostly unscathed.

  “Bye for now, Jules,” Mr. Thatcher says to my back as I leave, and I’m grateful Mason is between us. I can’t breathe or do anything other than follow Mason's lead until we’ve left the station. I can feel everyone watching us, and my face blazes with awareness, but the fear is what keeps me moving and my eyes staring straight ahead.

  “Mason,” I whimper as he pulls me across the parking lot to where he’s parked. I stare at his car, feeling as though I’m so close to protection, but knowing it’s a cell I’m going back to.

  Mason doesn’t respond, but he pulls me in close, wrapping his arm around my waist as we cross the street. I have to walk quickly to keep up with his quick, purposeful strides, but I feel comforted just from his arm wrapped around me, needing his embrace.

  For a moment, as Mason opens my door and waits for me to get in his car, I think there’s hope. I think I can save the damage I’ve caused even though I’m not sure why I’m even considering it.

  I’m so confused, so conflicted. The only thing I’m certain of is that if Mason hadn’t come get me, something bad would have happened to me. Something to make sure I was silenced.

  I struggle to breathe at the thought and I lay my head back against the seat, feeling the weight of what just happened flow through every limb, making me numb and exhausted… and terrified.

  Mason shuts his door with a loud thud as he gets in and starts the car, backing out of the space all without looking at me.

  I wait for something, for a moment to speak or for him to say something, but I’m given nothing.

  “Mason?” I take a chance to say his name as the car stops at a red light. His fingers flex on the wheel and then his knuckles turn white as he grips it and slowly turns to look at me.

  His eyes are cold, ice cold, and I instantly regret speaking at all.

  “We’ll talk when we get home,” he says beneath his breath. I nod once, feeling alone and abandoned and like this is all my fault.

  Chapter 6

  Mason

  * * *

  Forever doesn’t end,

  But it also doesn’t last.

  What you feel for now,

  Will very soon be the past.

  * * *

  Left only with the memories,

  And the desire to hold.

  But time doesn’t wait,

  And even love grows old.

  * * *

  I would have killed them. Both of those fuckers, and my father. I’ve never been so close to snapping in my entire life. I’m barely contained, left on the edge of something dangerous, something so dark I’ve never confronted it before. I run the back of my hand across my face as my shoes smack against the hardwood, and then the sound is muted on the rug in front of the grey suede sofa in my living room.

  “What were you going to tell them?” I ask as I pace in front of her.

  It’s never felt colder or darker in this house before.

  Even with the bright white snow reflecting light through the large modern windows on the back wall, there’s not an ounce of warmth in the room.

  Ice is running through my blood, but even that's not cold enough to take the heat from my anger.

  I can’t stop moving, and every muscle is coiled and ready to fight. I want to take it out on her. She has no fucking idea what she’s done. What kind of danger she’s put herself in.

  “How could you be so stupid?” I ask with a vicious tone I can’t contain.

  She looks as though I’ve slapped her, flinching and her mouth dropping open, but she doesn’t answer.

  “I-” she tries to speak, but can’t finish her sentence. It’s fucking infuriating. I don’t know what’s worse, how she's foolishly made everything worse for us, or the fact that she left me to turn me in. I clench my jaw so hard I nearly break my teeth. I have to stare past her at the blanket of snow as she squirms on the sofa. “Mason, I-”