The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) (18 page)

Reid had never believed in the stages of grief. For the last six years he had flitted backward and forward through them. Just when he thought he’d hit acceptance, he’d hear an article on the news or radio about a beaten spouse, and he’d flush right back into anger. And there were days when he was so lost that he felt like the sadness might drown him. But right now, standing in Lia’s father’s garden, he felt all of the stages simultaneously. Denial that Bell was there at all. Anger at Bell for what he had caused. The fact that bargaining was what had gotten him into this mess. Depression that there was nothing he could do about it. Well, actually it wasn’t
all
the stages of grief, because nowhere in there was acceptance. He was so far away from fucking acceptance that he wasn’t even sure he could spell it.

Before he’d finished processing his thoughts, his feet had already started to move. Lia shook her head an infinitesimal amount, just enough for her to show that she didn’t think it was a good idea. But he couldn’t stop. Somewhere between his brain, which was telling him that what he was about to do was a monumentally bad idea, and his heart, which appeared to be telling the rest of his body to move, a decision was unconsciously made. His heart won out.

He came to a standstill about two feet away from them and waited for Winston to spot him. At first, it was simply a casual glance, the kind someone would take when talking to somebody without wanting to stare. But then came the double take. Franklin followed the direction of his stare.

Lia hurried toward him and put her hand gently on his chest. “Not now,” she said.

Reid barely managed to hold himself back. His hands clenched into fists as he looked at the man that had caused so much pain. Years of guilt and bitterness burned through him. He wanted to confront him, punch him, anything, but Lia’s hand felt like a warm brand on his skin reminding him that right now was not about
him,
it was about Lia and her own fucked-up relationships. But it was too late.

“Mr. Kennedy.” Winston removed a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and dabbed at the beads of perspiration on his brow. “What a . . .
pleasure
. . . to see you after all these years.”

Reid swallowed hard, trying to force the words buzzing in his head to quiet. He wasn’t going to engage in Winston’s bullshit, especially when Lia was begging him not to with those damned eyes of hers.

“Is that sister of yours here, also?” Winston asked, his lips in a tight smile.

Fighting the urge to punch Winston hard in the mouth, Reid tugged on Lia’s hand. “We should go,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Go?” Winston laughed. “I’m surprised someone of . . . your questionable moral background . . . would even
be
at an event such as this in the first place.”

“Morals? What about you? Are you happy now that your son has attempted to ruin my sister’s life twice?” He turned to Franklin. “Makes sense that this is the kind of guy you hang around with. He suffers from an abject lack of morals, too.”

Winston causally shrugged, but his eyes turned cold and hard as they met Reid’s. “I am pretty certain this is neither the time nor the place to have this conversation. I’m here to simply support a friend—”

“You aren’t here to help a friend. You are here to help somebody who has the power to help you. You forget I’ve known you a long time, Winston. Your definition of philanthropy is paying for what you want.”

“Gentlemen,” Franklin said in a bright tone that he probably hoped would defuse the situation. “Why don’t we take this inside to my office and allow all of these wonderful people to continue to have a pleasant afternoon?”

Franklin held out his hand in the direction of the office and encouraged first Winston and then Reid to take the offer. Neither man moved.

“Please, gentlemen. I would very much appreciate your cooperation without the assistance of security,” Franklin said.

“I don’t need to be hidden away in a room,” Reid said. “Or threatened with security for voicing my opinion.” Lia slid her hand into his and tugged gently. He gripped her fingers but didn’t move. “It won’t work,” he said to Bell. “Whatever it is you have planned to screw up the trial again. I’m not going to fall for your stupid tricks, and my sister is stronger than she’s ever been.”

“Mr. Kennedy, as I was attempting to say earlier, I have no interest in having this conversation with you.” Winston slid his handkerchief back into his pocket. “What happened in Illinois is over, and my son is in his current situation because he spent time in prison. A place your sister sent him to. A place your sister attempted to keep him in and—”

“Are you really so fucking delusional that you think your son was somehow set up by my sister? That this had nothing to do with the fact that he attacked her with a knife and scarred her for life?”

The small crowd around them gasped.

“Who knows?” Winston hissed. “Without spending time with those criminals in Marion, he might not be in the situation he is today. So it is absolutely my intention to do everything I possibly can to ensure that my son spends the minimum amount of time incarcerated.”

“Which likely involves coercion, blackmail, intimidation—”

“Enough,” Franklin barked. “Lia, I should have known better than to allow you and your drama to join us.”

“
Allow?
You didn’t allow me to do shit. You coerced me, using Mom as bait.”

Franklin took a step toward Lia, and Reid pulled her closer to his side. It would be easier to defend her if he needed to.

“Be very careful what you say, Lia,” her father snarled.

“Or else what, Daddy? You can’t threaten me.”

Franklin looked around the garden and shook his head, obviously aware of the scene they were making. “What was I thinking, allowing you to invite the lowest common denominator to join us?” he said quietly.

“Lowest common denominator?” Lia cried out, and Reid gripped her hand, stopping her from taking a step forward.

While he appreciated her coming to his defense, he didn’t want her to end up in trouble on his behalf. He’d fight his own battles.

“There is not a single person here who is perfect, Dad. Least of all you.”

“Lia. Let us not resort to old-fashioned histrionics to get what we need.”

Her father’s tone was cold and controlled, and the hair on Reid’s neck stood on end.

“If people knew what you were really like, there would be nobody here today. I’ve a good mind to tell—”

“
Enough!
Don’t you dare threaten me,” her father shouted, spittle leaving his mouth. The words hung between them for a moment. Yet as quickly as the outburst had occurred, he smoothed his hair back into place, cricked his neck, and sniffed arrogantly. “Please say your good-byes and take your friend home before I call the police and have him, or you, arrested for disturbance,” he said, his voice totally even again.

Reid stepped back and looked around. An elderly gentleman was escorting his wife away from them, and another group of attendees watched them carefully. Winston stared at him, but Franklin glared at Lia.

Shit, even though Lia had ahold of his hand, the mist of anger had made him forget where they were. What he’d just done went against everything he tried to teach the kids at the boys’ club. He could have walked away. He could have ignored Winston. And he most definitely could’ve stopped talking. But he’d insisting on making his point. And for what? All he had done was make things worse for Lia.

The look in her eyes told him she knew it.

* * *

“I’m sorry, babe. That didn’t help at all, did it?”

Lia opened her mouth wide, stretching her jaw as far as it would go and then moving it from left to right before she closed her mouth again. She’d been clenching it all afternoon, trying to ignore the inane conversations going on around her. There had been no sense in asking for trouble by joining in, uninvited, to share her personal opinions on issues she cared deeply about, like a woman’s right to choose, with a whole bunch of men who didn’t know any better.

She laughed sadly. “No, but I understand why you said what you said. I’d been biting my tongue for most of the afternoon.”

Grinding her teeth had given her a headache. It was something she always used to do when she was younger, and for a period of time she’d needed to sleep in a plastic retainer. It had taken her over twelve months to quit the habit, but the fact that it had returned at her father’s very first fund-raiser was the only sign she needed that she’d have to find a different way of helping her mom.

Neither she nor Reid had much more to say on the short car ride home, and once they were in the condo she made her excuses and went into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and began to undress as the room started to fill with steam. Pretending she was somebody she wasn’t, even in an attempt to help her mother and Harper, was like wearing skin that was too tight. It pulled when she moved, constantly reminding her that this wasn’t who she was. Lia stripped out of the capris, removed the simple jewelry, and took down her hair.

She stepped into the shower and let the water sluice over her, washing away the invisible layer of grime that stuck to her skin. There was no way she could support her father, even for her mother’s sake. Long before Reid had let the first verbal volley fly, she’d realized it was never going to work. Her mother looked exhausted, like a fragile vase covered in hairline fractures. One bump and she’d break into a million pieces. At the first opportunity, she was going to go talk to her mother, see if she couldn’t convince her to come live with her in her home. In the past, she’d attempted the conversation from the perspective of simply wanting to see her mom in a happy, thriving relationship she deserved, but now she was genuinely worried for her mother’s mental health. Lia had enough money coming to her on her birthday that she could buy her mom a condo in her building and look after her financially. Heck, she could just give her mom all the money. She had enough and would continue to work.

For a moment she’d thought Reid might join her in the shower, but she was thankful that he hadn’t. She needed this time alone to decompress. To let go of the anger that crashed through her. It sickened her, the way her father had treated her mother behind the scenes, and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not drag her out of there when she’d caught him telling her to
buck up
in the hallway where her mom was catching her breath for a moment.

Once she had dried off, she sat at her dressing table. Without caring too much about style, she blasted her hair with the dryer. Once it was totally dry, she created a side part and used a hot iron to curl the front of her hair. She pinned each curl. Then she systematically went through the length of her hair and did the same thing. With every curl, she began to feel more like herself. When her hair was completely pinned, she sprayed it again and left it to cool.

The TV was playing in the background, some sports news channel. For a moment she thought about going out to Reid to explain why she needed this time to herself, but she felt safe in her closet going through a routine that felt so comforting.

She applied moisturizer and then smoothed foundation over her face. Picking her favorite bronzer, she contoured her cheeks and then moved onto her eyes. She’d been winging her eyeliner for over a decade, so it took no time at all to apply eye shadow and the symmetrical eyeliner. The woman in the mirror started to look so much more recognizable. By the time her eyelashes were applied, along with some deep berry lip stain, her heart had stopped racing and her stomach had settled.

She took the curls down and ran a brush through them, quickly followed by some shine spray to take the frizz away. She took the larger section on the front-left and teased it back before running a brush over it to smooth the hair. Born of years of practice, without a single misstep she rolled the hair around two fingers like a donut and secured it with two crisscrossed bobby pins. Then she repeated the steps on the other side.

Tears sprung to her eyes. “I’m never letting this go again,” she whispered to the mirror.

Lia grabbed her favorite dress from the closet. It was black, with deep pink roses on it. It had layers of pink-and-black tulle as an underskirt, totally overkill for a night in with Reid, but she needed the reminder of who she was. She grabbed a pair of deep pink Mary Janes and slipped them on. Stopping in front of the full-length mirror, she checked out the finished product. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t see any imperfections.

Happy inside herself, she went to find Reid. He was sitting on the sofa, feet up on the glass coffee table, something she never usually allowed. His mouth was wide open as he checked her out.

“Holy shit, babe. It’s like someone just turned the light on.” He stood and walked over to her.

“Thank you,” she said, putting a finger in the waistband of his jeans. “For giving me some space.”

“It felt like you needed it. And in truth, I did, too. Although, I gotta say, if you disappear for an hour and come out looking like this, I’ve got no problem with it.” He wrapped an arm around her, but instead of kissing her, he grabbed her hand in his and danced with her. “I owe you an apology. A huge one. I totally fucked up this afternoon, and I’m really sorry.”

Lia rested her forehead on his chest, which was solid and warm. “I think we both did.”

“Yeah, well, I dove in first, you just followed me overboard.” Reid placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m sorry my being there made things worse for you.”

She looked up at him, saw nothing but sincerity in those dark eyes of his. “I think it’s inevitable that Dad and I end up estranged. And I realized in the shower that I need a different way to help my mom, because I can’t do what we did this afternoon ever again.”

“I gotta be honest, you were kinda freaky in your Stepford Wife getup. I think I might lose my shit if I ever see you in pearls again. I mean wear what you want, babe, but just, please, spare me that.”

Lia laughed for a moment, enjoying being in his arms as he danced her around the condo to the sound of a cat-food jingle coming from the television. “We should explain to Harper and Trent that you spoke to Winston. And then I need to tell my dad what he can do with his request for help. He was right, my mom does need me, but not to put on a bright smile and pretend things are fine. I can’t let him emotionally blackmail me into helping him. Unfortunately, I have a feeling my definition of family is about to get a whole lot smaller.”