The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) (12 page)

“Believe me, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “And we have so much to talk about that it might be more than you can handle in one conversation. If you want to stop and come back to this another day, that’s what we’ll—”

“So you agreed to Winston Bell’s deal, I take it,” Harper said, cutting him off.

Reid moved to the end of the sofa to be closer to her, wishing he could tune out memories of Winston telling him how in the big scheme of things, Reid’s testimony about Nathan’s frame of mind wasn’t such a big deal . . . but the battle between Harper and Reid over who had started the events was critical. “He made it sound like you were in very real danger. I get now that I was being played.”

He took hold of his sister’s hand and held it. “Shit, Tayl . . . Harper. What the fuck did I know? Your case seemed like a slam-dunk to me. You were able to identify him. He’d left the knife behind, and while I was no forensic scientist or whatever the fuck they’re called, it had to have fingerprints on it. But him harassing you, arresting you, seeing you with those fucking handcuffs holding you to your hospital bed. It felt like that was something I could make go away. One less thing for you to have to deal with. And because I was a complete dumb ass, and I didn’t realize that something as simple as my testimony could affect the sentencing, I agreed.”

“So that was why they finally dropped the charges?” Harper said. “I’ve often wondered what finally made them bury that. But what has this got to do with Dad?”

“Do you remember the night before the sentencing?” Reid asked, hoping she’d recall the way she’d asked him to stay over at their parents’, terrified someone was going to try and hurt them.

“I do,” she said quietly.

“Well, long after you’d gone to bed, Dad found me, blind drunk, in the basement. I’d seen Nathan’s lawyers build this ‘moment of insanity’ defense, because without my testimony as to his frame of mind they were able to convince the jury he was calm until he found you packing. And I was scared shitless that I’d fucked up massively. So I told Dad. He was furious. Yelled at me. Told me what a waste of oxygen I was, and basically kicked me out.”

“But you didn’t leave,” Harper cried. “You were there the next day.”

“Yeah. I was able to convince myself to be the bigger man. To stay for you no matter what Dad said.”

“So why did you leave when you did? I went to the washroom with Mom and when I came back out, you were gone,” Harper asked quietly.

Reid rubbed his hands over his eyes. This was his one chance to tell her the truth and he prayed that she’d understand. “I saw your face when the sentence was handed down. It was half of what was expected and I knew it was my fault for not testifying. Fucking Winston Bell looked straight at me and fucking grinned. His son had just been locked up and the guy was fucking smiling at me, because he knew he’d won. I held my shit together until Mom took you to get cleaned up. Then I fell apart in the hallway. Dad was furious. He finally had a place to put all the anger he felt about what happened to you. He berated me, and I let him. Because he was right. I told him it was my fault, because I was the one who introduced Nathan to coke.”

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as years of guilt forced their way out like paint stripper poured on a vehicle, ugly and festering. He looked at the floor as Trent cursed.

“Dad told me I was useless, told me I needed to leave. That you would never recover if you knew that truth . . . said that you worshipped me, and that it would literally kill you to know I’d started the whole mess. He threatened to tell you if I didn’t leave, and I didn’t want to be responsible for you not getting better. It
was
my fault that Nathan attacked you,” Reid continued quietly. “Because if I’d stopped him, if I’d given him more money and he’d just stayed out partying longer, you would’ve been free and clear. If I hadn’t argued with him, he might not have been so angry by the time he got home. If I’d been a better brother, I would have spoken to you sooner about his habit, and encouraged you to leave, instead of trying to get him to change. And if I hadn’t persuaded him to try coke, then none of this would have happened.”

Reid stopped and took a deep breath. Harper was crying, and it squeezed his insides to the point he thought he was going to be ill. She hadn’t deserved what had happened and certainly didn’t deserve this. Remorse burrowed its way deep into his gut. He’d poured out so much of what he wanted to say in one big rush.

“So you left because you felt you had let me down?” Harper sobbed.

“Let you down? Christ, that is too weak to describe how I’ve felt all these years. Letting somebody down is when you tell them you’ll help them move but never show up on moving day. You were my baby sister, and my best friend nearly killed you because I let him go home to you,” he shouted.

His words reverberated around Lia’s condo. Harper gasped, and Trent muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath.

Lia reached for his hand, but he pulled his away. He didn’t deserve sympathy or their looks of concern. This was his burden to carry, but at least Harper now knew the truth.

Reid placed his head back in his hands. He was fucking exhausted. He felt ill like he always did when he allowed himself to get dragged back to all those years ago. It was a time he tried not to visit, yet it permeated every decision he made. Shame filled up the places remorse hadn’t reached. He would give everything he had to go and make different decisions. But he couldn’t. No matter how badly he wished it.

Moments ticked by, turning into minutes, until he had no idea how much time had elapsed.

“I need some time to think through this and process what you told me,” Harper said as she stood.

Reid looked up and saw Trent stand, too. “I understand,” he said quietly, swallowing hard to prevent the lump rising in his throat.

“Are you going to contact Mom or Dad?” she asked.

“Not yet. It might be a while before I’m ready for that reunion. While nowhere near as difficult as for you, the last few years have been rough on my own.”

Harper nodded.

He stood as Lia showed them out. He downed the rest of his scotch.

“Wait,” Harper said when they were nearly at the door. She shook loose of Trent’s arm, hurried back toward him, and threw her arms around his waist. She tucked her head against his chest the way she always used to when they were younger. The way she had when she hadn’t made the cheering team, and when Billy Preston didn’t ask her to prom.

“I missed you,” she whispered fiercely.

“I missed you, too,” he agreed hoarsely, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

Lia closed the door to the condo and pressed her forehead to its cool surface. After hearing the conversation between Reid and Harper, she felt wrecked and incredibly torn. It was impossible to imagine how the two of them must feel, and she couldn’t begin to think of what to say. What words could possibly help heal the hurt between two people who were both in so much pain?

She pushed away from the door and returned to the living room. Reid stood exactly where she had left him, still rooted to the spot, still looking toward the door. In hindsight, perhaps the alcohol wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe with a clearer head she could think of something appropriate to say. Something that would help ease the pain she could see etched across Reid’s face.

Instead she walked toward him and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her hair.

Words and sentences rattled around in her brain, platitudes and feeble attempts to make him feel better. But she knew nothing was going to help. All she could do was be there for him and make the rest up as she went along.

Eventually, Reid let go of her, stood back, and sighed. “I should go,” he said, his dark eyes searching hers for something, though she didn’t know what. The weariness and sadness in his eyes echoed the loneliness she heard in his voice. Now was no time for him to be alone. Despite everything she’d heard, she wanted to be there for him.

She looked over to the table where the empty beer bottles and scotch glasses sat. “I think you may have had too much to drive, and with everything you’ve just gone through emotionally, I’m not sure getting on a bike is the best idea.”

“I wasn’t planning on driving yet. I figured I would just take a walk. Grab some food. Clear my head a little before heading back to Fort Pierce.”

“Then don’t leave. Go sit outside in the sunshine, take another beer with you. Hell, take ten if you need to.”

“I wasn’t sure how welcome I’d be after everything you just heard,” he said.

“Oh, Reid,” she said, hugging him. She pressed her cheek to the solid warmth of his chest as his arms slid around her. “We have some things to clear up, but nothing has fundamentally changed between us. And now isn’t the time to worry about them. You’ve been through enough today.”

They stood wrapped in each other’s arms, peaceful silence embracing them. Physically he felt so strong, so powerful. But right now he needed
her
strength.

Reid kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Lia,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve never been happier about a broken valve spring.”

Lia smiled and stepped out of his arms. “We’ll see whether
I
am when I get my baby back. Why don’t I figure out some food, and you can see how you feel about leaving after dinner?”

Reid looked wrecked, but his relief at not having to make decisions was palpable. “I think I’ll change,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of his panniers.

Lia stood on to her tiptoes and kissed the side of his cheek. “I think that’s a good plan.”

She directed him to one of the spare bedrooms. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel like he owed her anything for being there, and that included sleeping in her bed. Even though sleeping close to him would likely bring them both comfort, it would have to be his decision.

Once he was out of sight, she went to the drawer where she kept takeout menus, and shuffled through them until she found her favorite Italian. Unsure of what Reid’s favorite comfort food was, she went with her own: Sicilian-style pasta with swordfish and chili flakes, and duck ragout with wild rosemary. Garlic bread and a large salad with beetroot and blood oranges rounded out the order she placed over the phone.

Listening to Harper’s story and hearing more details of the horrors she’d had to live through only heightened Lia’s admiration for her. There was so much more to the story than she’d been told.

Lia wandered back into the living room and collected the used glasses and bottles. She returned the white wine to the fridge and rinsed glasses, putting them into the dishwasher. The gamey taste of the duck called for a Pinot Noir, which would fortunately also complement the swordfish. As she grabbed the large red wine glasses from the cupboard, the phone rang. Assuming it was the restaurant calling, she answered without checking who it was.

“Lia,” her father said. “I’m curious as to whether you have given any more thought to assisting your mother as hostess at our gathering next weekend.”

She sighed wearily and placed her hand on the edge of the counter. No
“Hello, how are you?”
Just straight down to business. This was the very worst time to speak to her father, when her guard wasn’t up and she already felt vulnerable. She scrambled to erect the mental walls she needed to keep him at arm’s length. “I’d rather not, but you’re putting me in a no-win situation,” she said. She cracked open the wine bottle and poured herself a large glass.

“Of course it isn’t. Not when your assistance can help your mother cope with what will surely be a very stressful event for her. Surely that’s a win.”

Lia took a large swig from her glass. “It’s blackmail, Daddy. You’re using Mom as leverage, and you aren’t even being subtle about it. At least let’s talk like grown-ups. At least have the balls to admit that’s exactly what you are doing.”

“It’s nothing of the sort, Lia. Your personality has always teetered on the edge of the dramatic. I am simply pointing out that you could help your mother extensively.”

“No. You’re implying that I will be responsible if your precious suck-up cash-grab fest sends Mom over the edge.”

Too far. Too fucking far.
Lia remembered being panic-stricken as a child when her father would lose his temper and wondered whether her reaction now, in her adulthood, was genuine fear or simply a Pavlovian response.

Reid wandered out from the bedroom. How much had he overheard? The cocky smile she loved was still absent, and he rubbed his hand along his chin as if deep in thought as he went to sit down on the sofa facing the water.

Her head was spinning. She needed time and space to clear her head, but it was impossible with her father on one end of the phone and Reid now seated across the living room.

When she’d spoken with Harper about her father’s plans yesterday, Harper had suggested that maybe she was strong enough to withstand her father’s pressure and still engage slightly in his campaign if it helped her mom. She didn’t need to agree with him, after all, to help behind the scenes. Coordinating the caterers, handling kitchen emergencies, and organizing bar staff were all behind-the-scenes things she could do to reduce the stress on her mom without publicly supporting her father.

“Fine. E-mail me the details of the party. But I need some kind of guarantee from you that you are not going to put me on the spot. Because I guarantee if you do, I will answer any questions however I see fit.” Lia chose her words carefully, aware that Reid could overhear her.

“I am a man of my word, Lia. If you come and help your mother, I will not throw you to the wolves as you suspect I will.”

The line went dead and Lia looked down at the phone in her hand. Unbelievable. The bastard had hung up on her. Lia suddenly felt very cold, and slightly dirty. She’d made a deal with the devil, just like Reid had.

It didn’t bode well that it was the one thing they had in common.

* * *

Whoever was on the phone was making Lia unhappy. In fact, the whole fucking afternoon was likely making her miserable. Her forehead was pinched and her shoulders slumped, which for the woman who had the most perfect posture he’d ever seen, was a huge sign of defeat. How much of that was being caused by the person on the phone, and how much had resulted from listening to him vomit out his past?

He watched as she pulled the phone away from her ear and looked down at it incredulously before slamming it onto the counter. She grabbed the glass of red wine in front of her and took a large gulp.

“Bastard,” she said out loud to the air before flipping the bird in the general direction of the phone. In spite of everything, it made him smile.

He stood and walked toward the open-plan kitchen. She looked perfectly at home behind the diner-style counter and mint-green cupboards. “Was that aimed at me or someone else?” he said, hoping she would either smile or share what was going on with him.

“My father,” she said. “You and
your
dad are not the only ones with a fucked-up relationship.”

He took a sip from her wineglass before returning it to the counter between them. “Do you want to talk about it at all?” he asked, reaching for her hand. He’d never noticed how slim her fingers were, or how smooth the skin on the back of her hand was.

Lia laughed sadly. “Not really. That’s what I pay my therapist for. It’s been a rough day, huh?”

“It definitely won’t rank up there on my top ten ever. But I guess it had to happen at some point. And I’m relieved that I got to see my sister again. Thank you for leading me to her, Lia.”

“I’m not sure I’m due any credit for that.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Why is she here? And why isn’t she calling herself Taylor anymore? I don’t get it.”

Lia shook her head, but sympathy was ripe in her eyes. “I’d love to help you,” she said carefully. “But as I said, that’s Harper’s story. I’m sure she’ll tell you everything you want to know when she’s had some time to digest this.”

It wasn’t enough. “But you know? You know what happened?”

“I do.”

Something about the way she said it told him he wasn’t going to like it. “For whatever reason my sister is here, Lia, I’m grateful she has loyal friends like you. So, as I said, thanks for leading me to her.”

“It was more of a freakish coincidence than me actually doing anything.”

“You know what I mean. In all seriousness, thank you for seeing this through with me. It seems impossible to me that I’ve known you for such a short period of time.”

He stalked around the counter until he stood in front of her then smiled as he backed her up against it. It was the perfect height for what he had in mind. They needed a distraction, and he had a plan. He gripped her waist and boosted her onto the countertop. Using his hands, he inched her pencil skirt up her thighs, allowing his rough fingertips to glide along her skin. Lia gasped as the skirt went higher and higher. He placed his hands on her knees and slowly pulled them apart. Lia bit her lip, and he grinned as he stepped between them.

They both clearly needed escape. Something to take them away from the events of the day. Reid ran his thumb along Lia’s bottom lip.

“Is this okay?” he asked, relieved when she nodded.

Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in and took what he wanted. Her. Lia groaned against his mouth, the vibration setting his skin on fire. Her mouth opened against his, and he took full advantage of the moment, brushing his tongue against hers. He watched her gray eyes come alive, then flutter shut as he pulled her flush against him.

When she wrapped her legs around his waist, her core, hot and ready, pressed up against his dick, and he wanted to take her right there on the counter without giving a fuck about finesse. Just as he was about to lift her and carry her to her bedroom, her buzzer rang.

“Italian,” she murmured against his lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, lowering her to the ground. “Can’t we just send them away?”

“No.” She laughed, sliding her skirt back down her legs. The way her ass moved as she wiggled was just cruel. “You always seem to come between me and food.”

This time he laughed. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He took his wallet from the back of his jeans and pulled out some bills. “Will this cover it?” he asked.

“Put your money away,” she said. “You bought all the food when I stayed at your house.”

“Location isn’t really the point,” he said, placing the bills into her hand. “I’m an old-fashioned guy that way. When you’re with me, I buy you dinner. Now go pay for the food before I change my mind and take you on this goddamned counter.”

Lia grinned at him, and he could’ve sworn there was an extra sway in her hips as she walked away from him.

They took their food and drinks outside, and once Lia had gotten plates and cutlery, they settled down to eat. For the first time since he had seen his sister, the tightness in his chest began to relax. Staying clear of topics that might involve their respective families, they chatted about her car and the boys he mentored, but there was one thing he really wanted to know.

“I’m curious,” he said, taking a bite of the duck. It was so tender and tasty and he’d taken more than his fair share of it, but Lia seemed happy enough with the swordfish. “How do you go from being a politician’s daughter to being a tattoo artist?”

Lia laughed. “Oh my goodness, I’m not sure we have enough time for that sad story. You want to hear the CliffsNotes version?”

Reid shrugged. “For now that will do.”

She took a sip of her wine. “I’d applied to a number of art schools when I was ready to go to college, but Dad refused to pay. I guess he thought that would matter to me, but plenty of people go to college without being wealthy. He wanted me to do something . . . I don’t know . . . important. Something that would reflect well on him, like studying economics or international law, something that would make me more
like
him. I guess Daddy was used to people saying yes to everything he asked of them. And usually, money was a really good tool—or weapon—for that. When I refused to back down, he didn’t know what to do.”

Reid ripped off another piece of garlic bread. “So did you go to art school in the end?”

“I did. But not before Dad tried every trick in the book to get me to do what he wanted. He called the president of his alma mater, but I refused to even visit. You want to know a random factoid? I was a twin—well, technically I still am a twin. It’s just that my brother didn’t survive in the womb. My mom developed a condition called twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. It meant there was a faulty flow of blood between us, so we were total preemies. I made it; my brother didn’t. My dad has spent the last twenty-nine years lovingly reminding me that it should’ve been me who died. Because another son would probably have been more useful. Once I realized there was absolutely nothing I could do about that—and believe me it took a year of therapy to accept that little nugget—it was easier to move on. Fortunately, my Granny Emmeline helped me out.” She gestured around the balcony with her fork.