He’d do that because he had to. Because otherwise there would come a day when Anne knew the truth about the horror lurking out in the world. And once she knew, that face would no longer be filled with innocent trust. Fear would lurk under the surface, tainting everything. And when he looked into her eyes, he would surely see recrimination looking back.
“I’m so sorry, angel,” he whispered, then bent to kiss her, breathing in that clean baby scent—Ivory soap, Johnson’s baby shampoo, and a hint of powder.
She yawned, her fingers clutching the striped hospital blanket that had been her lovey from the day she’d come home. Stuffed animals held no interest for her, but she’d throw the tantrum of the century if she went to sleep without that lovey.
Another bolt of anger shot through him as he realized she hadn’t had the blanket in the days she’d been gone. He’d taken her. He’d drugged her, supposedly to make the ordeal easier to bear. And yet he’d offered her no real comfort at all.
Death offered Rory no comfort either, as Damien was sure he was rotting in hell.
And soon, the puppet master would join him. Somehow, some way, Damien would make sure of that.
That question he’d asked Quincy? A question about how he could handle the weight of failure? Not a problem. He wouldn’t fail. They’d fucked with the wrong man, and Damien was going to destroy them.
One way or another, if he had to spend every dime to his name, he would find the bastard, and he would make him pay.
Chapter Seventeen
When he didn’t find Nikki in their bedroom, he went back to the open area. Charles had already gone home, and Quincy and Jackson were packing up. “Syl’s already in the car,” Jackson said. “She wanted to call the kids before bedtime. Where are we meeting in the morning?”
“Meet me at my private hangar at the Santa Monica airport. I’ll fly us down in the Cessna.”
“Nine?”
“Perfect.”
Jackson started to walk away, then paused. He turned back, and Damien saw his own determination reflected back in the icy blue of his brother’s eyes.
“We’ll find out if Jeremiah is behind this,” Jackson said. “And if he is, he’ll pay.”
Damien gave him a nod of acknowledgement that was insufficient to show how much he appreciated Jackson’s support. Everyone’s support, he amended, responding to Quincy’s wave goodnight, then finding Ryan still working hard on a laptop.
“Get some rest. Then come back fresh tomorrow with the rest of the team.”
“That was my plan,” Ryan said. “But Jamie got commandeered by Ollie and your wife.” He nodded toward the balcony, and Damien saw the moonlit forms of the three friends beyond the glass.
“I’m glad they carved out some time despite this day going off the rails.”
Ryan shot him a wry grin. “Understatement much?”
“I’m going to go tell Ollie and Jamie goodnight. And catch you after San Diego.”
Ryan’s expression sobered. “I don’t envy you the trip.”
“Funny, I can’t wait to look into that man’s eyes. And I’ll know the truth. He’s a liar and a son-of-a-bitch, but I know him. And if he’s behind this, I’ll see it.” He met Ryan’s gaze. “And then it’ll be your job to prove it.”
“I hate that you have a father who falls under the umbrella of likely suspects.”
Damien waved the comment away. He held no illusions about his father. And, he thought as he crossed the room, he’d gotten over feeling sorry for himself about his paternity long ago.
When he reached the balcony, Ollie turned in surprise, and Damien realized that he was the only one there.
“Oh, hey,” Ollie said. “You just missed the girls. They went down to the pool deck. Guess they wanted to run to the guest house and tell Bree something.”
“No problem. I’ll let Ryan know.” He started to go back inside, but paused when Ollie asked him to hang on a second.
Damien turned back, then leaned against the rail and waited.
“Right,” Ollie said, clearing his throat. “I, you know, just wanted to say thanks for letting me stay and help.”
“On the contrary. I’m grateful to have your insight.”
“Cool.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “And, I wanted to say thanks for not holding a grudge about the whole money thing.”
Months ago, Ollie had privately asked Damien to help him out financially so that he wouldn’t lose an investment property he’d bought in the hills. After reviewing the plans and financials, Damien had declined. “You were in over your head. At that point you were better off walking. At least, that’s what I believed based on the paperwork you gave me to review.” He looked pointedly at Ollie. Ollie looked away.
“Care to give me the full story now?” After the recent revelation that Ollie was now working with the FBI, Damien had realized that Ollie’s request for help had been part of some sort of investigation.
“Wish I could. Just trust me when I say that you were only being looked at because you fit a profile. I told them there was no way you were involved.”
Damien raised a brow. “That’s a new tune from you, McKee.”
“No.” Ollie shook his head as if to underscore the word. “Look, I know we’ve had our moments. And when you first got with Nikki I tried to warn her off. But you have a code, Stark. Maybe it took me awhile to see it, but there are lines you don’t cross, and one of them is skirting the law where your business is concerned. Won’t happen.” He shrugged as if in apology. “I probably stayed in the ‘Stark’s an A-Hole’ camp for longer than I should have, but I had reason. Nikki’s special to me.”
“I know.” For that matter, Damien was pretty certain he understood that better than Ollie did. After all, Damien knew full well that Ollie was in love with his wife. But as far as Damien could tell, Ollie hadn’t admitted that to himself. And, unfortunately, he was certain that until Ollie admitted it and let her go, he’d never manage to maintain a relationship.
“What was the scam?” Damien deliberately changed the subject.
“All I can say is that there’s a major financial racket going on in the world of renovation and house flipping. And that nobody thinks you’re involved. Plus, since you are in the clear, I can tell you that I really do own the property, I really am planning on renovating, and I’m having no trouble making my payments.”
“Fair enough. I’m going to go find Nikki. And Ollie, I mean it. It’s good that you’re here.”
“One more thing—the vandalism at Nikki’s office. I know it’s not the priority here, but I was talking to Quincy and Ryan, and I may have access to some security footage that the guys have been trying to locate.”
“That would be great.”
“I’ll let you know. Whoever would do something like that to Nikki… That guy’s a fucking worm.”
Damien nodded. He and Ollie might never really be friends. But their love for Nikki? That was their bond.
* * * *
In the end, Damien didn’t find Nikki until he returned to the master bedroom, saw the flicker of candlelight coming from the attached bathroom, and found his naked wife sipping a glass of Pinot Noir in the massive, bubble-fil
led whirlpool tub. The flames of dozens of tiny tea lights flickered around her, making her skin and hair glow.
For a moment, he simply stood there, lost in her beauty. In the way she leaned back, her eyes closed, her breasts barely visible above the bubbles. And when she lifted a bath sponge and let it drip on her neck, his balls tightened and his cock turned to steel.
He wanted to touch her. To taste her. And then, when she lifted her hands out of the water and stroked her breasts, he knew that what he wanted to do most of all was watch her. The way her lips parted as she rolled her nipples between two fingers. The way her body arched as she kept one hand on her breast, but slid the other slowly down her body.
Her eyes were closed, and he heard her breathing come quicker. The gasps as her hand found that sensitive spot he knew so well. Her body moved—just small motions, but enough to make the water dance around her and the bubbles sparkle in the candlelight.
He imagined the slick feel of her on his fingertips. The tight nub of her clit. The tight, slick heat of her core.
“Damien.”
His heart skipped, and he watched her face, then realized that she didn’t realize he was there. She was calling to him only in her fantasy. And damned if he didn’t almost come right then.
Her breathing quickened, and he stepped closer, moving to the end of the tub so that he could see her face. The way her skin flushed with arousal. Her breasts, dappled with soap bubbles, her hard nipples peeking out, begging him to suck on them. Her knees rested on either side of the tub, and though the bubbles had started out dense, some were melting, and he could see the movement of her hand as she stroked herself, her hips moving as one hand teased her clit.
As he watched, she bit her lower lip, then closed her free hand over her breast. She stroked it, caressing her nipple lightly, then tugging at it to a point that was surely painful. She bucked, making the water slosh out of the tub, and her soft moans echoed in the large bathroom.