“It is, and I have you to thank for helping me to process it. If you hadn’t made that deal with me, I might still be in the same dark place.” He threads his fingers in mine. “I owe you so much. I wanted to tell you about Mom, but it’s been hard to talk about.”
“We don’t have to discuss it now if it’s still difficult.”
“It will always be difficult to talk about, but I want you to know. I don’t want to have any secrets from you.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
We move as one, and our lips meet in a tender sensual kiss.
“You’re the other half of my soul, Stevie.” Beck presses a lingering kiss to my brow. “I’m not surprised we’re always so in tune with one another.”
I press a kiss over his heart, right where the tattoo in memory of his mother is inked. “Tell me about her. What was she like?”
“She was the best mom, and she loved us so much. Things weren’t perfect when she was alive. Dad’s always been an ass, but she made up for it. Mom was only nineteen when she met Dad and still so innocent, or soGrand-mèresays. She was working as a model in New York, and she met Carlton at some party. He swept her off her feet, and when she got pregnant with me, he proposed, and they got married two months later. My grandparents begged her not to do it. Afraid she was moving too fast. They didn’t like Dad. He was a snob, and they feared for their only daughter. By all accounts, things were okay the first few years of their marriage. Mom gave up her career to raise us, and she seemed happy. Then Dad started cheating. He didn’t like how she took us to France every summer, leaving him alone, and that’s how he paid her back.” A muscle tics in his jaw. “I overheard them arguing one time, shortly before she died. He told her it was her fault for not giving him enough attention.”
“Of course, he’d try to blame her for his betrayal. Your father is an asshole.”
“He’s self-centered and obsessed with power and wealth. I will never relate to him. Thank god, I’m more like my mother. I might have inherited his looks, but my personality is more like my mother’s.” He rubs circles on the back of my hand as he talks.
“You aren’t anything like your father,” I agree.
“Mom was going to leave him. She went to an attorney, and they were working through the details of what to request before serving him with divorce papers when she was murdered.” Pain flits across his face, and he closes his eyes.
I hug him, holding him tightly as his body trembles.
“My sisters were at ballet that day, and Dad was still at work,” he explains, easing back to look at me. “Our housekeeper had just gone home for the day, but Benjamin, our live-in butler, was at the door when three armed men arrived. They entered our property from a neighboring property and stole across the grounds. Mom shoved me into her closet when she heard a commotion and gunshots at the front door. I was so scared, and I wanted her to hide too, but she made me promise not to make a sound. I watched it all go down.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and he’s trembling all over.
I rub my hands up and down his arms while I wait for him to continue.
“They wanted the contents of the safe. My parents had cash and jewels worth over a million stowed in the safe of their bedroom. Mom wasn’t stupid. She gave them the code, thinking they’d leave if they got what they came for. But they shot her. They didn’t want to leave any witnesses. If they’d found me, they would have murdered me too.” Beck stares off into space, lost in the horrors of the past.
I continue rubbing his arms, my heart aching for the little boy who lost his innocence in such a brutal way.
“I wanted to help her, but I was too scared. I couldn’t move. I was barely breathing. I pissed my pants, and I sat there for ages after the men left, terrified to come out in case they were hiding around the corner waiting to shoot me too. I watched the pool of blood grow larger underneath my mother.” He squeezes his eyes shut again before opening them and staring at me. “That image haunts me. I had nightmares for years. Barely slept more than four or five hours a night for years until you came into my life and made everything better.”
“Do you still get nightmares?” I recall him having them a few times when I’ve been around, but he never wanted to talk about it when I asked him the next day.
“Only on rare occasions. Confronting that day and my pent-up feelings has helped me to move past it. I will never forget it or how helpless I felt. For years, I blamed myself for not doing anything to help my mom.”
“You were only a kid. Like you said, if you’d come out, they would have killed you too. Your mom wanted to protect you. Her death would have been in vain if you had died too.” I hug him again, needing him close because all this talk of him dying has terrified me.
“I know that now, but for a long time, I felt like a failure. It’s why I’m so protective of Sarah and Esther. I failed Mom, but I never want to fail my sisters.”
“It all makes more sense now. Why you wanted to be a detective and why you let your father blackmail you.” I hold his face in my hands. “You’re an amazing big brother, and you’ve been amazing with me too. No one could do more for their loved ones than you. I hope you realize that now.” I dot kisses on his face before releasing him.
“I do. I don’t think these protective instincts will ever go away, but I have a handle on them now.”
“Did they ever catch the guys?” I inquire.
He nods. “The cops didn’t get anywhere, so Dad hired some private detectives, and they found the murderers.” A muscle clenches in his jaw, and his shoulders bunch with tension. “One of the guys was interning at the law firm Mom’s attorney worked at. He was copying files and identifying wealthy clients to steal from. It was him and his two buddies who murdered Mom and Benjamin. The defense at the trial argued for life imprisonment with no parole, but Dad was out for blood, and he wanted the death penalty. Not sure if he greased any palms, but the judge passed the sentence, and all three were executed.”
“I thought they did away with the death penalty in Washington in 1975?”
“Not for aggravated murder, which this was deemed to be because the murders took place at the same time as another crime, and they were used to conceal that crime.”
“I’m glad the bastards are dead.”
He bobs his head. “I think it’s the only time Dad and I agreed on anything. I remember the weeks before they were caught. I was terrified they’d come back for me or my sisters. Dad must’ve been scared too because he installed a high-end security system and employed a full-time team of bodyguards.”
