Beautifully Damaged (30 page)

His arms tightened around me before he replied, "I will be."

"I have some news to share with you so we'll both come back in the morning, if that's okay." Uncle Josh said to Trace.

"Absolutely."

Trace walked with me to the door as we saw my dad and uncle off and then I closed the door, turned and leaned up against it. What a secret to hold onto but his confession sort of explained a lot, like how I kept running into him when we first met considering we lived in Manhattan. I grinned at the thought because Trace had been stalking me and that fact didn't bother me at all.

"Ember?"

"I imagine you must feel a lot better getting that off your chest."

"...not until I know how you feel about what I said."

I walked to him and reached for his hands. "I told you that I don't remember my mother and knowing now who killed her will give my dad and uncle closure but for me I made peace with her death a long time ago. My tears earlier were for the young man you had been, who, even coming from the nightmare that was your life, still sought to ease the pain of another. You say that all you're good for is sex but don't you see that there is so much more to you? You, Trace, are good: deep down to the bone good."

I saw the tension just drain from him as he started to pull me to him but then he stopped and asked, "Why were you just grinning?"

"I couldn't figure out how we kept running into each other when we first met but I realize that you were stalking me."

His grin was wicked when he said, "Takes a stalker to know one."

I laughed out loud at that and then I sobered. "That had to be unimaginably hard for you to hold on to that secret. None of us hold you responsible, Trace. The silver lining to our joined tragedy is that we got each other, boss man."

His eyes warmed as a grin tugged at his mouth and then he was kissing me. His lips brushed over mine, tasting and teasing, before he angled his head and took the kiss deeper. My hands came up to grip his shirt as I leaned into him and kissed him back. His tongue swept into my mouth before tangling with my own and then he was licking the roof of my mouth which had my knees going weak. My hands moved to wrap around his neck so I could pull him closer and kiss him deeper. When his mouth pulled from mine to run hot, wet kisses over my face, I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of being with him before I whispered, "Make love to me, Trace."

He lifted me into his arms and walked me to our bed before he placed me down and immediately covered my body with his own. He reached for my hands and pulled them up over my head where he held them with one of his own as his mouth moved over me. He lifted my shirt and ran his tongue around my navel before dipping in which caused my body to jerk as my hips instinctively rose up off the mattress.

"Please, Trace."

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

The following morning, when my dad and uncle arrived, they both looked surprisingly good. I imagined it had to have been very hard to hear what Trace had to say but they both seemed happier somehow. My dad followed me into the kitchen as Trace and Uncle Josh spoke in the living room.

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

"I am, Ember. Honestly, it's closure and I didn't realize how much I needed it until I found it. How's Trace? That couldn't have been an easy burden to carry all this time especially not after he fell in love with you."

"He's good. Part of the hold that his past had on him was holding onto that secret and now that he's purged it, he seems more at peace. I think he's finally ready to let go of his past so he can move on and be happy."

"He deserves that."

"Yes, he does."

A few minutes later, Trace and my uncle joined us in the kitchen. We all settled at the table before my uncle offered, "I want to share what I've learned so far." My uncle's eyes moved to Trace. "I need to know how much you're comfortable with me discussing."

Trace went completely still. I reached for his hand that was resting on his thigh which pulled his attention from my uncle to his lap. When his eyes lifted to me, they weren't as tormented as they had been when he shared his secret with me. He squeezed my hand before he turned his attention back to my uncle and offered, "I knew you'd undercover it and I'm learning..." he looked at me with such adoration it had tears stinging my eyes "...how to deal thanks to Ember." He looked back at my uncle before he added, "Full disclosure is fine with me."

"Very well, but for the record I want to say what your dad did was depraved and how your mom did nothing was just as bad. You were one brave kid and I'm honored and proud to have you as a part of this family."

I was watching Trace so saw how he was working his throat and his eyes looked suspiciously moist. His voice was hoarse when he said, "Thank you, sir."

"Call me Josh, son."

And in that moment I never loved my uncle more.

"Your dad was into some serious shit. He was a gambler but he wasn't very good: owing markers all over and many of which were to some rather unsavory characters. He had a string of mistresses, most of whom later claimed that he was abusive, and he couldn't hold down a job because he was hostile and aggressive. Your mother had money -- apparently quite a bit of money -- that was given to her from her mother's side of the family. From all accounts, she was quite forgettable and completely lost behind her husband. My guess is your dad was the target and your mom was collateral damage. I've a long list of people at whom to take a closer look so when I have more I'll let you know."

Trace asked, "Did you find anything on Charles Michaels?"

"Nothing that throws up any flags. He's ambitious, a hard worker and unyielding. On paper, he's a straight arrow but I agree with you that there's more to his story. He's arrogant enough to commit murder and believe he'll get away with it. I'm going to keep digging since I don't believe in a perfect murder. Humans are fallible and it only takes one little mistake."

Uncle Josh was very direct when he said, "Your uncle knew what was going on in your house, didn't he?"

Trace sounded menacing when he replied, "Yes, and he let it go on for years. If he killed my parents, it didn't have anything to do with my sister and me."

I knew Trace was right because even his uncle asking me to help Trace wasn't about helping Trace: it was about helping himself. He left Trace to his own devices until the possibility that Trace's problems could become his. Only then was he ready to step in and offer aid. Bastard.

My uncle pulled a hand through his hair and the expletive that came from his mouth was not one I'd heard before and then he added, "The man should be hung up by his short hairs for that, the bastard, and as far as I'm concerned that crime is far greater than even murder."

My dad started to rise. "I agree but enough shop talk. I say we challenge these young folk to a game of billiards."

My uncle grinned before he looked over at me.

"Oh yeah, I want a chance to win back all the money that I've lost to Ember over the years."

Trace and I both stood as I looked into my uncle's laughing eyes. "...never going to happen, old man. Not only did you teach me everything you know but I also have my ace in the hole, I've got Trace."

My uncle and dad were laughing as they made their way to the front door. I leaned into Trace and held his tender gaze before I added, "... and I'll never let you go."

Trace asked that I not go on my daily runs alone after learning that Dane had approached me; if he was unable to run with me Rafe offered to do so. Today, I was lucky enough to get Trace and, as we made our way through Central Park, I couldn't help glancing over at him from time to time because the man was just so incredible. I wondered if I would ever grow tired of looking at him but I suspected even when we were old and feeble I'd still enjoy it.

I liked to believe I was in fairly good shape but Trace made me feel like a sloth. He trained religiously and through boxing he had developed amazing endurance but it was still a wonder when we completed five miles and I was panting and ready to collapse and he looked eager to keep going.

Every day, after our run, Trace took me to Starbucks for my coffee and cake-pop. In fact, I think he was becoming slightly addicted to them, too, since he never failed to get himself one.

As he ordered, I just stood back so I could watch him and had to resist the urge to pinch myself because he was gorgeous and he was mine. I liked him in sweats: these were black and rode low on his hips. His white tee was snug across the muscles of his chest and arms; arms that were flexed from the run. His hair was a bit longer but still spiky around that arresting face of all angles.

He towered over everyone around him and there was a hardness to him when he interacted with people: not mean but untouchable. Watching him, I was deeply grateful that he allowed me into his heart. What would his life have been like if he hadn't suffered the way he had when he was younger? He was smart and, despite everything, confident and to think if he had been properly nurtured, loved and encouraged, there was no end to what he could have done. It was a crime but I couldn't be too upset about it because I would never have known him otherwise.

He started towards me as a grin tugged at his mouth before he handed me my coffee.

"One venti bold with hazelnut syrup." He leaned over, as if we were co-conspirators, and whispered, "They had tiramisu pops today so I got four."

Love swelled in me and before I could stop myself I was gripping his t-shirt and pulling him closer as I fused my lips to his. He was surprised, at first, but then his hand snaked around my neck and tilted my head as he took the kiss deeper. I didn't know how long we stood there but then the sound of someone clearing their throat, rather loudly, pulled us from our moment. Trace, being Trace, pulled away only slightly while his hand lingered on my neck and his eyes stayed on mine. There was love looking back at me and then he kissed me again, not as long but equally as fabulous, before he pulled back and reached for my hand. He looked to the man who had cleared his throat and asked, "Can you blame me?"

The man turned his eyes to me and smiled before he replied, "No."

We stopped at the condiment bar so I could add cream to my coffee and then we stepped out into the beautiful morning. Trace reached into the bag and pulled out two cake-pops. He bit his cake-pop off in one mouthful so he could hold mine as he reached for my hand. We started down the street, walking as close to the other as possible, and I couldn't remember ever being so happy. I glanced up at him and saw that he was watching me with a tender smile tugging at his mouth. We stopped and looked in a few shop windows but it was when we passed my hair salon that I remembered Vivian and her invitation.

"Oh, shit."

"What's wrong, Ember?"

"The day I got my hair done Vivian Michaels came into the salon to invite us to dinner."

I felt Trace tense but it was only for a moment and when he spoke it sounded more curious than angry. "From what I know of Vivian, Charles tells her to jump and she says how high. My guess is he put her up to that." He looked at me and grinned. "You know, the whole keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

A chill went down my spine and Trace obviously noticed it when he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me up against him. He spoke with quiet conviction when he said, "He won't touch you."

I wrapped my arm around his waist as I looked up into his eyes. "It's not me that I'm worried about."

His grin was very cocky. "I can take care of myself but I do so like having someone worrying over me."

"Well, get used to it," I muttered and he chuckled.

"Hey, so tell me how did you become owner of Clover?"

I saw the flash of sadness that swept over his features before he pulled it under control.

"My mom had money and my dad liked to spend it and one of the things he spent her inheritance on was a cook. Mrs. Fletcher was a hell of a cook. She could make French, Italian, Greek and Indian cuisine just as well as she could make comfort food. The house always smelled delicious when she was with us and it was under her tutelage that I learned how to cook. Under her watchful eyes, I developed a real love of food and not just the eating of it but also the creating and presenting it. I decided, when I got older, to use some of my inheritance to turn my passion into a business."

My heart ached because I realized that I had unintentionally brought up a subject that was painful to him.

"I'm sorry, Trace."

He looked down at me as a smile touched his lips. "Don't be. I guess you figured it out that Mrs. Fletcher didn't last. It was while she was with us that my dad's depravity escalated and I'm pretty sure Mrs. Fletcher discovered his dirty little secret. I really thought she was going to take Chelsea and me away -- that she was going to help -- but one day she just stopped coming to work."

I absently dropped my cup in a trash can that we passed as I realized something about him. "That's why you believe that all good things come to an end."

"Yes."

"Have you ever looked her up now that you're older?"

"No, she became one of the angels who saw, heard and spoke no evil."

I hated that he endured what he had, that there was no one to help him and that he was eventually forced to help himself. I turned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I wish I had been there to help you."

He pushed me back and the look I saw burning in his eyes scared me. "I don't because he would have hurt you, Ember, and that would have sent me over the edge. I would have killed him and then we'd have missed out on a lifetime together."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and pressed my lips to his throat.

He lifted me with ease and moved us from the sidewalk because we were causing a jam in the flow of pedestrian traffic. He placed me on the ground and pulled away from me so he could look me in the eyes.

"I think I may take Vivian up on her invite but, Ember, I don't want you anywhere near that man."