Page 35 of Bed of Thorns

“It’ll do. I’ll get your things.”

“Wait. Let’s go outside.” She didn’t bother to look in my direction before going to the door leading onto a small deck. The house was pristinely located close to the beach, which I hoped would aid in the healing process. Adam’s advice, his strong words of wisdom seemed to resonate now more than ever.

“You’ll only find peace by allowing yourself to forgive. In doing so, you’ll rid your mind and your heart of the demons who’ve wrapped a thick chain tightly around your neck. Don’t allow them to win, Edmond.”

It had been during one of his darkest moments during the years we’d spent locked away, a time when there’d been none of the light reflected in his words or tutelage. He’d writhed in bed at night, moaning and muttering something that I hadn’t caught, a part of his past he’d never mentioned. It was the single barrier we’d had between us. I’d often wondered what had tortured his soul to the point that when his demons yanked him by the same thickness of chain he’d seen around me, he withered away for a month, maybe more. Never eating. Never leaving the cell for our one-hour stint in the courtyard in order to pretend we were human.

Then a switch had been flipped, his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor returning stronger than ever, providing me with the strength I’d needed to take life behind bars a day at a time.

Mercedes threw open the door, immediately walking outside. I remained where I was. I’d thought this moment would provide peace, even joy. Instead, I felt even more hopeless. Every breath I took was labored, every step more like I was heading directly for quicksand with no vines or tree limbs to save me.

To save us.

I wasn’t entirely certain why, other than there were uncaptured memories lurking in the very shadows I hated. As I stood in the doorway, I drank in the outline of her face, the slight serenity almost immediately shifting into another moment of fear as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. The shadows of twilight couldn’t hide the dark, ominous clouds that had formed over the ocean. I sensed the sea becoming turbulent, even more so than the ugly emotions shattering parts of my soul.

The fact that there were no stars in the sky troubled me more than it should. In the quiet moment, I thought about how many enemies my father must have. He’d extorted money from dozens of clients, scheming them into believing he had a huge development just waiting to be approved by the powers that be. Two days into delving in the man’s books and I’d looked past the glossy entries to the truth.

He had millions locked away in accounts no one knew about. The Cayman Islands. Germany. Hell, the man even had money in Russian banks. If what I’d suspected was true, he’d also entered into a deal with various Russian oligarchs, securing them multimillion-dollar properties that he’d managed to find a way of devaluing, allowing whatever Russian mogul to sweep in and purchase the property for forty to sixty percent lower than true market value.

The man had no scruples. He’d sold his soul to the devil a long time ago.

He’d made a lot of men rich while condemning others to pick up the pieces, destroying their power and their bank accounts. He’d made dozens of enemies, but he’d always found a way to protect his wealth, hiding behind spectacular methods of accounting. There wasn’t a single law enforcement member who could challenge the man in court successfully.

Not that any had tried that I was aware of.

That was the beauty of his scheme, his charismatic personality and conniving methods providing him protection.

If only I hadn’t found the real set of books, a mistake that I’d paid for dearly. It had been the only time my father had dropped the ball. Then he’d dared to try to claim what he was doing was both legal and moral. Then he’d assumed that as his son, I’d be happy to go along with his method of operation.

The reason for the intensity of my anger was that I’d tried. I’d gone along with his bullshit for three months, looking the other way, doctoring the books when I should have photographed every scrap of evidence, developing a foolproof plan to take to the FBI, the CIA, and whoever would listen.

But I’d been too late.

Some say timing is everything. My timing sucked. On the day I’d jolted my conscience into reality, ready to destroy the man I’d grown to hate, something tragic had happened. That’s where everything went blank.

All I remembered was an argument followed by a fight, blood, and death.

Then my arrest.

“What happened on that night, Edmond?” she asked. There was a mournful sound to her voice that tightened the ropes surrounding my heart.

“My father isn’t the man you think he is.”

She laughed halfheartedly. “I’m no fool. I realized long before I went to work for him that he was involved with unscrupulous activities.”

“Then why go work for him?”

Her deep breath followed by a scattered release was just as gut-wrenching as the tightness in my heart. “I needed a job. I felt like I had no place to go. But…”

I moved closer to the railing, leaning over as the first bolt of lightning crisscrossed the sky. “But what? Tell me.”

I felt her heated gaze as she turned her head. The breeze had increased, wafting a scent of her perfume directly into my nostrils. I drank in the fragrance, my muscles tensing.

“I wanted to find out what happened. The truth. I need the truth and I believe so do you. You don’t remember that night, do you?”

“Some.”

“What were you doing out so late?”

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