CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) (41 page)

She closed her eyes, as if that could help
her to isolate herself from his words.
“Leave. Both of you,” she said in a hoarse voice she barely recognized as her own.

But at this moment, she was unable to
recognize anything and anybody, unable to think at all. She walked out of the
room without looking at either one of them.

CHAPTER 49

During the whole time they had been
together, Xan had been expecting Catalina to slowly
back away
from him
when she realized all the differences between them. He had been waiting for her
to
back down
from their relationship when she felt the pressure of her
privileged upbringing pushing at her when it collided with the street education
he had gained.

Yet she kept surprising him, time after
time, by taking his side during all adversities and when people did all in
their power to prove to her he was no good for her.

When he finally started to relax and think
they could actually make it work, she reached her tipping point and he had only
himself to blame. As mad as he was at Florence Bennett, she was nothing but a
bearer of bad news.

It was his fault he didn’t share with
Catalina the truth about what had happened twelve years earlier. He owed her
that much, especially considering what had happened to her parents. But then
that was exactly why he kept it a secret, praying it stayed buried in the past.

He should have known better, but how was he
supposed to tell her he took a life just like his father, just like the
nameless perpetrator who ended her parents’ lives and her happy childhood as
well? He didn’t quite figure this one out and it came back to bite him in the
ass, like a vicious dog let go of its chain.

The look of betrayal she sent him before
turning away was the reason why he did as she asked and left her home instead
of trying to explain.

What kind of explanation he could give her
anyway?

The facts were merciless, just like the
rules running the streets. It didn’t really matter that he had had no
intentions of killing the guy, but it came to a very simple reckoning
–
it was that or
dying himself. A no choice situation for someone like him, who had surviving at
all costs embedded in his very DNA.

That night ended his freedom even though he
had never been charged and sentenced for the crime. But Tony Boden who
witnessed it was as harsh and unforgiving as any court would have been, if not
more, Xan thought.

He took him in and helped him to develop
into the fighter he was today, but at what price? He had no room to breathe, no
possibility of leaving the club, because that night when he was sixteen years
old had been hovering above his head like a guillotine ready to drop at any
moment.

And it finally did, just not how he
imagined it would.

He drove without any purpose for an hour,
recalling the whole conversation between Catalina and her grandmother.

He had been so wrong about his Kitten this
whole time, thinking her life to be so damn easy.

His eavesdropping left no more room for
that, stripping his delusions bare.

Just because she hadn’t been raised in
poverty didn’t mean she was any luckier than he had been. Maybe a slap to the
face was not the same as a fist, as she had pointed out once, but they were
just different shades of the same abuse.

Was it why she seemed to understand him so
well? He wondered.

He wanted to go back to her more than
anything until it morphed into a dull throbbing in his bones, but this one time
he had to give her what she asked for without trying to force his way back in.

Xan entered his apartment and memories of
Catalina’s visit in the place attacked him as soon as he stepped inside. It
didn’t make much sense since she came here only once, but when the heart and
brain collided, there was only one winner and it wasn’t common sense as he was
learning firsthand now.

He finally couldn’t take it any longer and
left the sole place that had ever been his refuge and the only one untouched by
all the filth in his life. It still remained the latter but it wasn’t an asylum
anymore. He had considered the apartment his home, but now he could clearly see
how wrong he had been this whole time.

He didn’t care about those four walls that
used to make him feel so proud. He could leave and never come back, but
couldn’t imagine walking away from Cat and never seeing her again.
“Fuck!” He snarled.

He felt homesick without her and it was the
most dangerous sensation for someone like him who had never really had a home
or felt a need for one. She built him up and ruined him at the same time, until
nothing more than a husk remained.

He had no idea what or who he truly was,
because the only thing he could think about was that without her, he was
nothing.

Xan blinked, surprised when he found
himself at Kel’s place, but there was literally nowhere else he could have gone.
Unless he were to lose fight with himself and decide to pay Tony a visit. But
this had to wait because there was a chance, no matter how slight, the son of a
bitch was going to get what was coming his way in a legal way, which would be
poetic justice if anyone asked him, Xan thought.

He considered the gym, where he could work
off some of his frustration, but one glance at his watch told him it was closed
and he didn’t have the key. Yet he didn’t mull over the fact that midnight could
have been a bad time when he rapped his knuckles against Kel’s door.
“What the hell, Xan? I could have had company,” Kelton muttered, opening the
door.

His grumpiness aside, he didn’t seem like
someone heading toward bed, Xan noticed. But he knew that nights weren’t particularly
friendly for the ex-Marine.
“When was the last time you got laid?” He asked brusquely.
“Hell if I remember,” Kel sighed deeply
–
wishfully
–
and let him in. “Didn’t know you got back.
How is New York city at this time of the year?”
“As welcoming as ever,” Xan muttered and Kel knew the subject was closed.

Apparently that was not the reason behind
this night visit.
“Catalina kicked you out?” Kelton smirked.
“Yes.”

Kel wanted to say it was high time for that,
but one look at the younger man told him that whatever went down, it was
serious.
“What happened?” He demanded.

He took out two bottles of cold water from
the fridge and threw one of them to Xan. Usually when he closed his eyes, he
could imagine it to be beer, whiskey or any other of those forbidden beverages.

Forbidden to him.

Then it was just a step closer to telling
himself one drink wouldn’t do any harm and start his descend to hell once again.
But he knew it to be a lie, even if it was hard to swallow.

He tipped back the bottle, washing the
bitterness down with cool water instead.
“She knows about the accident when I was sixteen years old. Now tell me you
have something on Tony before I kill the fucking bastard, adding one more
murder to the tally,” Xan muttered and Kel knew all the dangers this kind of a
volatile mood could spell.

“I will call Kyle in the morning; until
then you do nothing about Tony. You go nowhere close to him. You got me?” Kelton
demanded. “Xan!” He snapped.
“Yes.”
“Convince me you mean it.”
“I mean it!” Xan blew out a harsh breath.
“What I want to know is… why are you here instead of trying to explain to her
what really happened that night?” Kel wanted to know.
“It’s not rocket science, Kel; when you have a body you know exactly what
happened and circumstances be damned!” Xan’s voice rose.

The boy’s fuse seemed too short for his
peace of mind, Kelton decided. One spark would be enough to ignite it and set
him ablaze.
“Besides, aren’t you gonna tell me she is not for me? That I should let it go,
let her go?” Xan downed the contents of the bottle and slammed it on the
tabletop, wishing it could have been glass so he would get some kind of
satisfaction tonight no matter how ridiculously unimportant.

No such luck, he thought; apparently
fortune was no longer his bitch.
“I want to know whose words you are putting into my mouth,” Kel replied calmly.
“Do you know the first thing I’ve noticed about you?”
“My charm and good looks?” Xan offered.
“Hardly!” The ex-Marine scoffed. “Your determination. You don’t leave the ring
and claim victory; you stay till the end no matter what. So riddle me this:
what the fuck are you doing here instead of fighting for her? Unless you are
glad for the out she gave you?” Kell mocked him and braced himself for a punch,
but it didn’t come.

No, Xan looked at him with misery written
all over his face.
“I love her. I asked her to move in with me today,” he admitted.
“What did she say?” Kel tilted his head.
“You mean after she learned about me being a murderer and all?” Xan’s words
were filled with sarcasm.
“Riiiiight,” Kel sighed. “You need to give her a moment to catch her breath and
then you need to fight for her, Xan. Make use of your tenaciousness, boy. Did
you forget that you don’t give up but push through when the odds are stacked
against you? You don’t surrender; you complete not only one round but the whole
fight,” Kel told him and Xan decided that punching the wall was not nearly
enough.

He wanted to hit it with his head and maybe
shake some common sense back into it while he was at it. Of course he was not
the type to give up and back down when shit got rough. He was regrouping and
approaching the problem from another angle until something would eventually
give.

Catalina wasn’t the problem; his whole
attitude was, since the moment he met her and allowed doubts to plague him. She
was the best thing that could have ever happened to him and the fact she
deserved better was completely irrelevant. It only meant he had to try so much
harder to convince her they were meant for each other, and the whole upper
crust be damned.

He not only loved her, he was completely
besotted by the way she was. He recalled Dante’s race and how she was watching
the events with eyes wide open and amazement shining in them. He knew, because
he had been admiring her instead of following his friend’s progress.

Where all women he knew wanted to be appreciated
for their looks, she seemed uncomfortable when someone paid her compliments
about it, as if she were unused to it. He found it hard to believe but then he
understood his Catalina wanted to be admired for her work. That was only one of
the differences between her and the rest.

The world thought her to be cool and
unflappable, but there were moments she shed that demeanor as if it was skin
that didn’t quite fit her anymore. He was utterly fascinated by how far she
would allow herself to go in order to get free from those ties that had been
instilled upon her from the day she was born.

He was a goner when it came to this woman
–
as in lost without
any hope or will to ever get over her, Xan decided.

He jumped to his feet, ready to face her,
consequences and the whole damn world at once.
“You are absolutely right!” He informed his friend.
“Of course I am… whoa, where are you off to?” Kel demanded.
“I thought it would be obvious,” Xan smirked.
“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I seriously doubt that waking her up
at this time would score you brownie points, genius. Simmer the fuck down.” Kel
could only shake his head.

He didn’t think he had ever been so young
and so impatient himself. Having a possibility to witness a usually sensible
man acting like a lovesick pup convinced him that he didn’t miss anything
particularly attractive.
“You are probably right. I will wait a few hours,” Xan agreed. “I will go to
her first thing in the morning.”
“Wrong again, we have a meeting at the bank first thing in the morning; then
you can talk to Catalina.”
“Fuck Kel, kill me now! How am I supposed to wait?” Xan wanted to know.
“By exercising your patience, perhaps?” Kelton suggested.
“I would rather do it while pounding the hell out of you on the mat.”

Kel glanced at his watch and sighed. He
didn’t think he was going to sleep tonight anyway, and letting Xan out of his
sight didn’t seem like a great idea either.

Gym it was, he decided.
“You could try,” he agreed.

CHAPTER 50

Time became quite a foreign concept to
Catalina that night. It seemed to be floating tauntingly all around her, just
to remain out of reach.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t sleep
–
she didn’t even
attempt to, because her head kept spinning until she felt as if she were
spiraling a long way down herself.

A long way because she finally understood
that down wasn’t one step a person took with little care, it was much longer
trip. A series of
wrong
steps and bad decisions, but for the life of her
she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment when everything in her life
started to go wrong.

She couldn’t bring herself to regret
anything, but she wished to understand why everything came with such a high
price and why she was the one who always had to pay it in the end.

She was afraid that riding the latest storm
out wouldn’t be as easy as all the previous ones.

Cat kept recalling her conversation with
Florence, still feeling shell-shocked by her grandmother’s ruthlessness.

But why was she really? She asked herself.

She knew her better than anyone. The person
she pretended to be, the one that ensured her award for her charity work was
not the same one who remained after the lights went off.

Meddling in other people’s lives and business,
collecting dossiers for confirmation, hiring private investigators; it all
seemed apt to fit the general image describing Florence to the letter.

The kind of picture Catalina wouldn’t be
interested in taking herself.

There was no way for things to go back to
the way they were after all had been said and done between them, she decided.
Their relationship had always been far from what either one of them wanted or
was hoping for. Since they were not capable of fulfilling any kind of
expectations, there was also no need to keep hurting each other.

She looked at the images Florence threw in
her face a few hours before, still attempting to wrap her head around them. It
felt as if the young man was looking back at her.

Judgmental.

Assessing.

Just like her grandmother was, like the
whole elite seemed to be as of late. These kinds of looks came across as silent
in a way that was anything but soothing, made of indented and uneven edges
ready to draw out blood.

She was used to their presence, aware of it
the same as prey was conscious of a hunter shadowing its every step. Lying in
wait for the smallest trace of weakness in order to pounce and shred the
vulnerable underbelly to pieces.

A shudder rocked her, but the feeling
clinging to her skin refused to abate.

Catalina blinked, trying to bring one of
those pictures into focus, but her mind was flooded by echoes of the past that
wasn’t really that distant.

Throughout her entire life, she needed to
excel practically in everything, leaving others to bite the dust. There was no
second best in Florence Bennett’s world, no second chances.

No second anything, Cat thought, releasing
a shaky breath.

She was supposed to be nothing but a pretty
ornament with a schooled expression on her face, forever hiding her true
feelings and her true personality.

She had been deprived of her right to
laugh, to cry, robbed of her childhood, not only because of her parents’ death,
but for the second time around when she had been placed under her grandmother’s
less-than-tender care.

She was not raised, never treated as a
child. She had been groomed and polished to perfection instead. Florence’s
watchful gaze didn’t leave space for any mistake, following Catalina’s every
step, seemingly counting every breath she took.

She had always been forced to prove herself
over and over again. Prove she was good enough while she and her grandmother
both knew she was far from ever achieving it.

Xan had never made her feel any less than what
she was, not asking more of her than she wanted to give him. Yes, he pushed her,
but it was completely different and served an entirely different purpose.

It seemed she was meant to fall, regardless
of all Florence’s efforts, because she appeared to be flawed anyway, Cat
decided.

There had always been this iota of a rebel
within her.

Probably the same that made her fall in
love with a man like Xan, who could have never made her grandmother’s cut.

The same something that had always resulted
in her landing herself in trouble despite all those pitiless stares from the
diamond-hard eyes of the woman who was her grandmother.

Cat’s hand rose up subconsciously until the
fingers of her hand brushed her upper lip. The skin tingled in a sensory memory
of the blow received many years ago for being mutinous and unreasonably
disobedient.

Not that it made it all much better, but it
was supposed to be a slap to her cheek, one of a few stinging ones she had
obtained during her stay under Florence’s roof. But her grandmother’s gold
engagement ring had caught on her lip, tearing the delicate tissue and spraying
them both with droplets of crimson.

Disgust, Catalina recalled now, that was
Florence’s reaction to the result of her own brand of violence. She had never
been sorry for teaching Cat any of the lessons for her wrong-doing. She had
never taken any part of the blame on herself either.

Catalina sighed again, angry at herself for
reliving the memory that was far from anything good. Her body might not bear
scars, not visible kind like Xan’s did, but the final outcome was quite
similar.

They were both marked by what had happened
to them before, because the past was a merciless thing resurfacing from time to
time, forcing a person to go through the same song and dance.

She wasn’t wrong when she told Florence she
knew Xan. He had never made his sordid past a secret, never pretended to be
someone he was not. She simply didn’t want to believe he would have hidden
something as big as a murder.

Yet his instantaneous acceptance of her
grandmother’s charge didn’t leave space for doubts; he meant what he admitted
to.

Now she wanted to know
how
,
when
and
why
it happened because
–
his temper aside
–
Xan wasn’t the kind
of a man capable of purposefully harming another person.

In fight, yes, it was part of the bloody
sport, but not in life and not just for the hell of it, she thought.

Somebody could point out that she refused
to believe in facts because she didn’t want to acknowledge being in love with a
killer. Perhaps there was some truth in it, Catalina admitted, especially after
her traumatic experience from childhood but there was much more to that.

She knew that people who had a record of
suffering physical abuse often became tormentors as well, but Xan didn’t have
it in him. If he had, he wouldn’t think about starting a school to teach and offer
help to kids just like he was himself at one point.

He would be set on destroying, not
building.

She had never been afraid of him on a
physical level, no matter his profession and she rejected the possibility of
fearing him now. On the contrary
–
she felt safe with him, maybe for the first
time since her childhood.

Catalina just wanted to learn all there was
to the tragic incident because she knew very well things were rarely as clear
and obvious as they seemed on the surface.

She should be repelled by him, by what he
did, Cat decided, but nothing about her feelings or reactions to Xan was as
simple as that.

Nothing was black and white either.

She was ready to ask questions and analyze once
the first shock subsided somewhat because she loved him and it was not going to
change anytime soon. He was
it
for her and she was seriously fed up with
people who tried to prove to her that he was nothing but bad news.

She wasn’t so feeble she would have bent
under persuasion from others. She wasn’t impulsive or stupid either, and before
she made up her mind about something or someone, she collected as much
information as possible. She didn’t see any reason for this time to be any
different just because her heart was involved, she told herself, wondering how
true her words rang in reality.

Catalina realized that love wasn’t always
pretty and about living high on emotions. It wasn’t this romantic notion she
had always been envisioning either. It was raw, powerful, leaving a person
naked and bruised but you held on to it anyway no matter what.

She wasn’t going to give up on him just
because it seemed convenient to so many people. She would not say goodbye just
because he was too untamed and his armor too tattered to suit her romantic
visions. She wasn’t a child and she knew better than anyone that fairy tales
were just that
–
tales. And this was
not how their story was going to end, she decided.

Catalina forced herself to look at the
images again.

If she knew one thing it was photography,
and something about these pictures was constantly bugging her, nagging at her
from the moment they were shoved at her.

There was no doubt in her mind they were
old, she didn’t have a problem with that. It was about the fact those snapshots
were taken by an amateur’s hand. If they depicted a victim of a murder, they
should have been taken by a forensic photographer.

One of her colleagues worked as a crime
scene photographer. From a few stories he had shared with her at one point or
another, she knew that crime scene photos were used in a variety of ways.

They could be instrumental to solving a
crime or they could be used for analysis and measurements, so the person taking
them had to be accurate and detailed. A good crime scene photographer was able
to tell stories with his pictures just like any other, even though the nature
of his work was very specific.

Those images could give a glimpse into how
a victim lived and what his or her personality was. A specialist would know
what settings to use in low light conditions and would have an understanding
that all crime scene photographs should be properly lit, adequately exposed and
sharply focused. They should be free from distortion and have good depth of
field.

In other words they should be all that the
pictures in her possession were not, she decided.

Crime scene images should also be attached
to research papers, articles and forensic reports and all she got was a stack
of images alone. Gabriel wouldn’t hesitate to show it all to her if he were in
possession of any kind of proof that Xan did commit a murder. Not to mention
Florence, who would have been more than happy to spring it all on her.

Moreover, her lover would have been serving
time now because there was no statute of limitations for murder.

The question was: who took them and why, then?

There was someone who could help her with
shedding some light onto the case and it wasn’t Xan.

Her eyes were gritty from the lack of sleep,
but her mind was working overtime, not allowing her to take a moment of
respite.

It didn’t feel real that only a few hours
before, they were in New York City trying to stave off one crisis just to come
back and jump into the middle of another.

But then nobody had promised it was going
to be easy, she thought.

Cat glanced at her watch, deciding that she
had enough time to take another shower, drink a cup of coffee and head toward
the city. She wanted to talk to the Lieutenant of the Santa Monica Police
Department before he could get sucked into his daily routine.