In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) (24 page)

“The security guard is here,” Mr. Malloy called out, poking his head down the stairwell.

“Nearly finished,” I called back.

I was hurrying to put the papers into the box when a small, leather-bound notebook slipped from the stack and landed at my feet. Finishing the transfer of the papers, I leaned down to pick it up, and froze.

The emblem on the cover was the exact match for what had been on the pendant Mr. Galler had given me.

I hesitated, my pulse skyrocketing. Grabbing the notebook, I quickly stuffed it down the back of my slacks. The jacket I wore covered it up and I stood, replacing the safe deposit box, and adding the lid to the bank box before carrying it upstairs.

“Here you go,” I said with a fake smile, handing it to the serious-looking security guard waiting in the lobby. Mr. Malloy was there and had me sign a form that he signed as well. My palms were sweating and the pen was slippery in my grip. I was terrified they’d both realize what I’d done.

I gave Mr. Malloy the keys and then hurried back to my booth. I slid the notebook into my purse and tried not to think about how many laws I was breaking. I justified it by telling myself that Mr. Galler had gotten me into this mess and he was dead. I had to do what I could to make sure I didn’t end up the same.

The rest of the day passed as a blur, my only thought was on getting home and taking a look inside the notebook. Though the definition of my “home” was nebulous since I was staying at Devon’s and I hadn’t talked to Logan since our argument.

I clocked out and waved goodbye to Marcia, then went out the back way to where I’d parked the Porsche. My phone chirped and I dug it out of my purse. Logan had texted me.

I can’t stand not talking to you. Give me a chance to grovel over dinner?

I smiled a little, my irritation at him melting away. I texted back, walking slowly across the parking lot.

No need for groveling. We had a fight. It happens.

It only took a few seconds for his reply to come through.

You know it’s just b/c I love you.

My heart ached. I was glad Logan had texted. Though an unapologetic player, he was a softie on the inside.

I know. Love you too. Dinner tomorrow?

It’s a date.

I was texting back a reply when someone stepped in front of me. Stumbling back, I jerked my head up to say
Excuse me
but the words died on my tongue.

“Miss me, brat?”

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

M
y phone clattered to the ground as I dug inside my purse for my gun, but then Jace had me by the throat.

“I’ve been thinking about you for ten long years,” he hissed. “I reckon that tight little pussy of yours is just begging for old Jace.”

Prison had changed him, his hair now cut so short you could see his scalp through it and a long jagged scar marked his cheek. But his eyes . . . his eyes were exactly the same. Cold and without a shred of humanity in them.

“Let me go,” I gritted out, trying fruitlessly to pry his hand from my neck.

“You and me are going to get reacquainted,” he said, his grip tightening.

I couldn’t breathe and spots started to crowd my vision, my fingers scrabbling uselessly at his arm.

“I’ve had a long time to think about how I’m going to make you pay,” Jace continued, his face so close to mine I could feel the fetid heat of his breath. “I’m going to make you bleed, brat. You’ll be sorry you ever turned your back on me.”

Dragging me by the throat, he pushed me up against an SUV in the lot.

“Feel that?” he hissed, pressing his hips against me. “My dick’s aching for your sweet cunt, just like we used to, brat.”

My arms hung limply at my sides, Jace’s hand around my neck the only thing keeping me on my feet. Everything started to go black.

“Freeze! FBI! Let the girl go!”

I vaguely saw Jace turn around, then suddenly I was free. A shot rang out and I heard the sound of breaking glass as I collapsed to the asphalt, sucking in clean, wonderful air. I didn’t have the strength to move, even though I could tell I’d landed in a puddle of slush, the icy cold water seeping through my clothes.

“Ivy! Are you all right? Ivy!”

A man skidded to a halt next to me, dropping down to his knees. I pried open my eyes, shocked to see it was Agent Lane.

He helped me onto my back, one arm supporting my shoulders while his hand pushed back the hair from my face. “Talk to me,” he said anxiously. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed, an action I immediately regretted as a flash of pain went through me. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice hoarse. I coughed, which burned my abused throat.

“Who was that guy?” Lane asked. “Did you know him?”

I nodded, struggling to sit up. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and my hands shook as I tried to gather my purse and phone. Dropping it had shattered the glass screen.

“He’s my stepbrother,” I said. “He’s out on parole. Where’d he go?”

“I fired a warning shot, but he ran off and I stopped to help you. What’s his name? I can get an APB put out on him.”

“Jace Croughton,” I answered.

“Take it easy,” Lane said, helping me struggle to my feet. My knees felt as though they were made of rubber, wanting to immediately fold and dump me back on the ground.

Shoving my phone into my purse, I dug out Devon’s keys. “Thank you,” I said to Lane. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

He smiled a little. “Yeah, let’s focus on that and not how I was following you, ’kay?”

My smile was wan. I didn’t care why he’d been there, just that he’d stopped Jace.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” he asked as I got into Devon’s Porsche.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, anxious now to get to Devon’s. A clawing need to feel safe was churning in my gut. “Thanks again.”

Lane stood in the space of the open car door, peering down concernedly at me. After a moment, he crouched down to my level.

“Be careful, Ivy,” he said, reaching out to brush my cheek. “I have this feeling, like this may be one of the last times I see you alive.”

On that ominous note, he stepped back, closing the car door. I managed to get the keys into the ignition, then tore out of the lot in the direction of Devon’s apartment.

Jace was back. And not only that, he’d found me. So quickly and so easily, it was laughable how I’d thought I’d be able to hide from him.

The things he’d said replayed in my mind, terror taking hold of me until all I could think about was finding a place to hide.

I let myself into Devon’s apartment almost mechanically. I dropped everything I was carrying to the floor before getting on my knees and dumping out my purse. Grabbing my gun, I hurried into the bedroom, frantically looking for a place to hide. If I hid well enough, maybe Jace wouldn’t find me.

My eyes fell on the closet and, in three steps, I was in front of it. The space was dark, full of clothes, and had little nooks and crannies in the back. Dropping to my knees, I pulled the door shut behind me and crawled into the farthest corner. It was pitch-black, but that was okay. Maybe Jace wouldn’t look in here. Maybe I’d be safe.

Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe too loud. Just sit and watch the door.

My old mantra repeated inside my head as I sat, knees drawn to my chest and gun cradled in both hands. If he came, I’d be ready for him.

I sat there for hours, time ceasing to have meaning after a while. My eyes grew heavy and my head bobbed from exhaustion, but I jerked upright each time, determined to stay awake.

I had no idea what time it was when I heard the sounds of someone in the apartment.

Gripping the gun tight in my suddenly sweaty palms, I focused intently on the door, just barely able to see the faint edges of the cracks. I thought about praying and my lips moved silently, even as I knew praying had never helped me before. I’d prayed and prayed that some miracle would stop Jace from coming into my room. That miracle had never come.

I made myself as small as possible in the corner, the footsteps coming closer now as he walked into the room. I heard him pause. My pulse was racing and I was light-headed with fear and panic. I would
not
let him do to me what he’d done before.

The door to the closet suddenly flew open and the light came on, blinding me after hours in the dark. I screamed, terror spiking in my mind, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was loud in the confined space, making my ears ring, but with it brought a semblance of sanity. I wasn’t in my adolescent bedroom closet hiding from Jace—I was in Devon’s closet, and he’d said he was coming home tonight, which meant I’d just shot—

“Oh my God!” I cried out, dropping the gun. Now I could see a man lying on the floor outside the closet. I scrambled forward on my hands and knees, terrified that I’d killed Devon. “Devon! Oh my God.” I was crying, near hysterics by the time I got to him. I reached out a shaking hand—

His hand shot out and wrapped tightly around my wrist. I gasped in surprise and relief as he sat up, apparently unharmed.

“Oh thank God,” I said on a sob. “You’re okay. Thank God you’re okay.”

Devon was staring at me, a frown creasing his brow. “Yes, a good thing for quick reflexes or else I certainly would not be ‘okay.’ Do you want to tell me why you’re hiding in my wardrobe with a gun?”

I was crying too hard to explain, so I said the only word I could. “Jace.”

The change in Devon was immediate. Gone was the irritated confusion, replaced by stark worry.

“Jace? What did he do? What happened?” he asked. His hands cupped my face, making me look at him, but I was still crying. Relief that he was here and unhurt overwhelmed me.

Realizing that I couldn’t speak yet, Devon drew me onto his lap and held me. I rested my head against his chest, the cotton of his shirt soft against my cheek. His hand held the back of my head, slowly petting my hair as he murmured soothingly to me.

“Shh, it’s all right now. I’ve got you.”

Gradually, my sobs eased and I realized how out of my mind my fear of Jace had made me. I could have shot Devon, killed him.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed to whisper.

“Shh, no harm done,” Devon said gently. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Haltingly, I told him about Jace’s attack, the things he’d said, and how Agent Lane had intervened. When I was through, he made me sit up slightly so he could inspect my neck. I imagined there was a handprint from where Jace had nearly strangled me.

Devon’s gaze met mine. “You’ve never told anyone, have you,” he said. “Never talked through what happened when you were a child.”

I gave a hesitant shake of my head. “He told me he’d kill me if I ever told,” I whispered. Logan had known without me telling him the excruciating details. I’d maintained my silence all these years.

“Tell me.”

I stared wide-eyed at Devon, sure I’d misheard him. “You don’t want—” I began.

“I do,” he interrupted. “And you need to say it. You need to say the words, let the light shine on it so you can see it for what it was. Your silence has gained you nothing. Tell me. When did it start?”

His eyes were so blue, so intently focused on me, and I could feel the strength of his arms around me, his body against mine. And maybe it was because there was no pity in his gaze, only the frank knowledge that he’d seen horrible things as bad as mine, maybe worse, and nothing I could say would surprise him.

So I began to talk.

I told him everything. From the very first night Jace had come into my bedroom and how it began with him just touching me, to how eventually he’d grown bold enough to come in several times a week. How he’d turn me over and pull my pajamas down. The way it had hurt but if I made a sound, he’d hit me with his fist. That he never stopped calling me “brat.”

It took a long time and I had to stop several times when the words became too hard to say, but Devon was patient, waiting silently for me to continue. His hold on me didn’t lessen. He didn’t push me away in disgust.

I finished with the last time, the day he’d gotten so mad he’d threatened to kill me with a knife from the kitchen. I told Devon how I’d barricaded my door and sat with my back to it, praying I could hold him off. I’d been so scared that day.

Finally, I ran out of words. The room seemed too quiet when I stopped talking.

I was afraid to look at Devon, realizing I’d glanced away at some point while I’d been speaking. I’d been lost inside the horror of my own memories. What would I see in his eyes now?

Devon’s finger brushed my chin, gently turning my face toward his. “Look at me,” he said.

Reluctantly, I lifted my gaze to his.

“None of that was your fault, Ivy,” he said.

I shrugged. I’d heard that phrase often enough before to grow tired of it. “Yeah, I know.”

“No, listen to me. Really listen. Nothing you said or did made him do that to you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Devon’s words were so earnest, so passionate, it made me pause. Is that what I thought? Deep down, did I blame myself for the monstrous things Jace had done to me? That didn’t seem right. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but suddenly I wondered if I really
knew
—in the heart of me—that I wasn’t to blame.

“You were the victim, Ivy,” Devon said. “Don’t blame yourself. Put the blame where it belongs. On him.”

At the third time he repeated that, I could feel my face crumpling into tears. “But why?” I managed to say. “Why would he do that to me? What had I ever done to him?” They were questions I only now realized had been buried inside, that I’d never allowed myself to dwell on but had been there all the same.

Devon pulled me close to him again, cradling me tightly against his chest. “Shh, sweet Ivy. The why is simply because he’s an evil man. And I know this because I’ve seen a lot of evil in the world. Evil that preys on the innocent, the defenseless. It wasn’t anything you said or did. You were just . . . convenient.”

The truth of his words hit me in a way I couldn’t explain. It was painful to realize that he was right—the awful acts that marked my past, that still marked me—were nothing more than a product of a sick, twisted person with a victim close at hand. And that victim had been me. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it, just as there was nothing I did to cause it.

“He said he loved me.”

Devon tipped my chin up until our eyes met. “That wasn’t love, Ivy. What he did wasn’t out of love. Don’t ever believe someone who hurts you also loves you. The two don’t go hand in hand.”

“What do you know of love?” I asked sadly. “It’s a useless, foolish emotion, remember?”

His gaze was steady on mine, his fingers tenderly brushing my cheek. “I may know little of love, but I know what it is
not
.”

I mourned the innocence I’d lost all those years ago, and how I’d punished myself for what had happened in the years since, thinking it had been my fault. Subconscious though it had been, I could see now how I’d kept myself in a pristine shell, not allowing anyone to get close. Only Logan had made it past my defenses, and now, Devon.

Devon’s hold on me didn’t let up, his presence steady and solid while the ground shifted underneath me, putting my entire life into a different paradigm and perspective.

My tears eventually dried and I quieted. My body was folded onto Devon’s lap and I realized we’d been sitting on the floor for a long time. That couldn’t have been comfortable for him, though he gave no sign of tiring.

I shifted to move off Devon’s lap. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically spent. He got to his feet and took my hand to help me up. His palm was warm against mine.