Kevin’s fucking father. He’s behindallof it.
Goddammit.
I sob against Leo’s shoulder as he and two other agents herd me back upstairs into the residence.
* * * *
Leo is waiting downstairs when Yasmine and and the kids arrive. He whisks them upstairs, where I drop to my knees and pullthe kids in for a long hug.
And I…shatter.
I hate myself for it, but I utterly break down crying—in grief, in relief—that they’re here, safe, and with me.
Because how close I came to not even having them twists my guts and fills me with fresh rage.
I want Yasmine to hear this, too, so she’ll have the full story to help them deal with this. With Leo, I take them all into the Yellow Oval Room,where I sit on one of the large formal sofas with the kids and wrap my arms around them.
There are things I wish I could rip from my memory, shred, and rid myself of forever. One of them is telling those kids—mykids—that we now know the bad man who nearly killed Uncle Kev is the same one who killed their parents, and who also killed Aunt Lauren.
Halfway through it, Leo’s phone buzzes. Afterlooking at it he says, “They’re here. I’ll be right back.” He bolts from the room.
We are all crying by the time I stumble my way through the story. Just as I finish that, I hear a commotion. Kev and Shae, with Leo bringing up the rear, rush into the room.
“What happened?” Shae asks. “No one’s telling us anything!” She sweeps over to the kids, barely constrained terror on her expression as sheenfolds them in a hug, kisses each of them on the head, and reassures herself they’re okay.
She’s a damn good mom for someone who never wanted kids. They’reourkids now, allthreeof us, because Kev’s as good as a dad to them, too.
But as I look at Kev, I can’t do this to him here. “Shae, stay with the kids. Leo will fill you in.” I rise and walk over to him, take his hand, and lead him tothe bedroom, where I lock the door behind us.
He wears his professional mask now. “Chris, what thehellis going on? Why did Secret Service confiscate our phones?”
God bless Leo.
I take his hands and lead him to the loveseat, where we sit. There, I kiss his hands and then tuck them against my chest.
This memory is another I wish I could scourge from my brain. Shock first, his mask crumpling,dissolving, as I lay out everything to him, starting with the fact that Gayle is dead, and then tying it all together, finishing with the coup de grâce of who is behind it all.
My boy’s grief and rage, his anguished cries as I hold him, will haunt me forever.
I cry with him, and he ends up with his head in my lap, sobbing. I’ll need to change slacks, because there’s now a puddle of snot there,and I don’t even fucking care.
Stroking his hair, all I can do is hold him, love him, and pray that today doesn’t break him in ways I can’t put back together. I’m sure there will be a lot of bullshit flying over the next several days, and no doubt some asshole will try to paint Kevin with his father’s tarnished brush, even though Kev was also a victim in this.
Twice, if you count his brokenheart because of Lauren.
Calls for him to step down will no doubt be launched by some opportunistic assholes.
That’s standard.
But I won’t let him.
I don’t know how long we sit there, but I won’t move until he’s ready. Eventually, he’s cried himself hoarse. Shattered and broken, he stares into the distance with a haunted look on his face. “Why?” he whispers.
“We don’t know yet.Idon’t knowyet.”
“He tried to have me killed? He…he had Lauren killed?Why?”
“Buddy, as soon as we know anything, you’ll know it. I promise.”
