Beside him, Nikki’s forehead creased.
Rory, he mouthed.
“He’s in the Men’s Central Jail downtown. They’re moving him to the LA County State Prison in Lancaster.”
“He’s not withdrawing his plea, is he?”
Both Nikki and Bree stiffened.
“No. No, the plea’s been entered. He’s being sentenced on Monday. Probably just a capacity thing.”
Damien switched the phone to speaker. Nikki had a right to hear this. Bree, too, for that matter. “Then why does he want to see us?”
“I don’t know. But I think it’s worth finding out.”
He met Nikki’s eyes. She nodded, her face going pale.
“All right,” he said. “I guess we’ll go see the son-of-a-bitch.”
Chapter Nine
Bree stayed at the playscape to watch the kids while they went back to the house so that Damien could call Ryan and Jackson and give them an update on the Rory situation. They held hands as they followed the path, walking in silence. At least until Nikki tugged him to a stop where the path crested a small hill, opening up to a stunning vista of the property falling away toward the beach with the majesty of the Pacific in the distance.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and gazing out over the view.
But Nikki wasn’t looking at the sea. Her eyes were fixed on him, and he turned to her with a frown. “What’s wrong?” As far as he was concerned, the talk with Bree couldn’t have gone better. “Nikki?”
“What you said to Bree. About this happening because of who you are…”
He turned away, frustrated. “Don’t say it’s not true. We both know that it is. Anne wouldn’t have been taken if it wasn’t for me. Rory took her because of who I am. Because she’s my daughter.”
He watched her throat move, but she didn’t speak, and he felt the waves crash over him. He’d spoken the truth because he had to make certain that she understood. No matter how much it might hurt, he needed her to face that horrible reality.
But now that she was staring dead at the reality of their life together, it felt like he was drowning. Because how could they be together when everything he’d spent his life working for was a lever that pushed them apart?
An eternity seemed to pass before she said, very plainly and very simply, “I know. Damien, of course I know.” She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. “And I hate that something so admirable in you was a magnet for tragedy and pain. But that doesn’t make it your fault. Would you blame a beautiful woman for being raped?”
Revulsion shot through him. “Of course not.”
“Then don’t blame yourself for what that asshole did to Anne. To us.”
He closed his eyes, wanting to battle back her words, but he couldn’t. The truth was that her arguments were the ones he would make were the tables turned. “You’re a smart woman, Mrs. Stark.”
She tilted her head back for his kiss, and he surrendered to the pleasure of his wife sliding into his arms. She tasted like morning dew. Like the ocean, spreading out toward infinity. Like promise and hope and an eternity together.
She tasted like happiness, and once again he wondered what he’d ever done in the whole of his life that had earned him the value of this moment.
Her hands clutched his hips, providing balance as she leaned back and met his eyes. “Do you know what I want right now, Mr. Stark?”
“The same thing I do.” A hint of smile tugged at his lips. “To blow off these calls until later and go see the kids.”
She laughed with delight. “God, I love you.”
“That works out well,” he said, bending to claim her mouth. “Because I love you beyond all reason.”
* * * *
“Castle, Daddy! Bigger!”
“Bigger, huh?” Damien filled a second bucket with damp sand, packed it in tight, then overturned it on top of the pile of sand that already existed in the box. He removed the plastic bucket, sat back, then watched as the sand crumbled away.
“No, Daddy!”
“Sorry, squirt. I think if you want a castle, Daddy can write a check. And if you want a custom built one, you’re going to have to talk to your uncle.”
“Unca Jackson here?”
“Not right now. But I’m sure we’ll see him soon.”
She pondered that, then looked over toward the swing set, where Nikki was pushing Lara higher and higher, to the little girl’s squeals of delight.
“Me, too, Daddy!” Anne lifted her arms. “Me swing, too!”
“That I can handle,” Damien said, scooping her into his arms and taking her to the toddler swing. He buckled her in, her little legs kicking with excitement. Then he stood behind her and pushed gently as she squealed with glee, so utterly fearless it made his heart ache. And made him remember the terror he’d felt the day she’d been born.
Not because there had been any trouble with her birth. On the contrary, according to Dr. Tyler, once Nikki got past that touch-and-go first trimester, everything was textbook perfect, including the actual birth. Nikki’s water had broken. She’d calmly asked Damien to drive her to the hospital. She’d been admitted. And ten hours later they had a daughter with perfect Apgar scores and the sweetest little face that Damien had ever seen.
But until that moment when they’d brought her home—until she was real and solid and crying in her bassinet—it hadn’t seemed real. And he’d gone through the entire pregnancy walking on eggshells.
They’d already had Lara, of course, and he couldn’t be happier. But he also didn’t think that he could shoulder the burden of another miscarriage, and he was certain that Nikki couldn’t. They’d lost Ashley—their first unborn child—to a miscarriage that resulted from Nikki’s rare uterine condition. And although Dr. Tyler had assured them that the chances of another miscarriage after the first trimester were slim, Damien had held his breath every single day.
By the time he held Anne in his arms, he felt like they’d dodged a bullet.
He’d never felt that way about Lara. On the contrary, they had Lara because they’d fought against a fate that would have left Lara struggling in an orphanage. They’d found her, then fought for her. Nikki had bared her soul to the adoption agency and the home study counselors. She’d sat down for multiple sessions with counselors about her cutting. T
hey’d worked out a plan to address the surgeries that Lara would need because she’d been born with an extra toe on each foot.
They’d fought for their first child, and they’d won.
But Anne had been an accident. They hadn’t even been trying to get pregnant. Just the opposite, since they knew that the odds of Nikki carrying to term were so slim. And as much as Fate had given her to them, Fate could rip her away again.
But Damien wouldn’t let that happen. He’d die before he let anyone hurt his daughters. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. And then Anne was taken, and there’d been nothing he could do. Not a goddamn thing.
“We were lucky,” he said, his voice low. Steady.
Beside him, Nikki turned from where she was helping Lara out of her swing. “Lucky?”
“With Anne. With Rory.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, obviously trying to read his mind. “Bullshit. We make our own luck, Damien. You’ve told me so over and over again.”
He just shook his head, then unbuckled Anne, who was struggling to get free and follow her sister.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Nikki said, stalking toward him as Anne scurried toward Lara. “It wasn’t luck. It was you. You’re the one who found the clues that led us to Rory. You’re the one who put together the team. You’re the one who set up the tracking particles so we could tie him to the cash.”
“The tracker?” He lashed the words out at her. “You mean that same tracker that was the reason you cut?”
“I cut, Damien. Me. Because I was lost and I was scared and my daughter had been taken from me.” She spoke low so that the kids couldn’t hear. But for Damien, there was no missing the ferocity in her words.
“I was wrong not to have told you.”
“Hell yeah, you were. And I’m sure you’ll do something again that pisses me off. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re ninety-eight percent of the reason that we got our daughter back.”
Her phone rang before he could respond, and he was grateful.