The tea kettle whistling on the stove abruptly shakes me out of my thoughts. I fix Victoria a cup of tea before heading back into my living room where she’s perched on the window seat overlooking Manhattan.
She didn’t feel safe enough to return to her apartment, so I offered to bring her to mine. It’s not much, but I’m not planning on staying here long. There’s a small kitchen, living room and two bedrooms. One bedroom is filled with my computer and surveillance equipment, so I’ll have to keep that locked while she’s here.
When I approach Victoria, her knees are drawn up to her chest, and her head is turned toward the window, her dark hair cascading down her legs. She looks like a fucking angel sitting there, some unearthly creature that I stumbled upon.
“Victoria,” I say gently so as to not startle her.
She turns to me, smiling a woefully sad smile. Her right hand is clutching something, and I know it’s the locket. She hasn’t stopped holding it since we found it on the ground.
I remember seeing the silver chain around her neck before, but she always had the locket hidden under her clothes. The way she would always touch her chest… I thought it was a nervous habit, but now I know she was using the locket like a totem, a reminder of the boy she lost so long ago.
A reminder ofme.
I was ten years old when I gave Victoria that necklace. I mowed several different lawns all summer long, sweating and slaving away to scrape up enough money to buy her something nice for her birthday.
My mother helped me pick it out, saying it was the perfect gift.
A silver locket with a picture of Victoria and me inside, so she could “always keep it close to her heart”, as my mother told me that day.
Little did I know that only months after Victoria’s birthday, our lives would all be irreparably broken and that I would lose her and my family forever.
She has since replaced the chain, because I’m sure it wore out long ago, but she kept the locket all this time. And the way she was clutching it in such a desperate time tells me that she never stopped thinking about Arlo. Perhaps never stopped loving him.
And the fact that she didn’t forget me, that she’s worn that necklace every day of her life since I gave it to her…made something fracture deep inside of me. I feel like I’m torn into two different entities — the man who wants to destroy her…and the man who wants to protect her.
Victoria’s eyes meet mine and then glance down at the necklace. She smiles fondly, her eyes warm and happy, as if remembering the boy who gave it to her.
“It’s my good luck charm,” she explains. “I never take it off.”
I turn away from her as that metaphorical knife in my gut twists a little more until I can practically feel the physical pain from it.
But even though my old feelings might be resurfacing for Victoria, I know I have to shove them back down in the pit of my dark soul where they belong.
Arlo died that night in the fire. And like a phoenix, I arose from the ashes to get my revenge. I’ve been focused on vengeance for so long that nothing is going to take that away from me.
Not Victoria.
Not our memories together.
And certainly notlove.
CHAPTER 21
VICTORIA
AFTER GETTING ATTACKED in the park, I was scared, too frightened to go home, even too fearful to go to the police. And so, when Damon offered for me to spend the night, I didn’t even hesitate to say yes.
If my muggerwasworking for Nolan Farrell, there’s nothing the police would do anyway. Farrell’s clan is protected by dirty cops with fat wallets; allowed to roam the streets, wreaking havoc and causing mayhem however they so choose.
And if my attacker wasn’t working for Farrell, the likelihood that he would even be caught is slim, at best. There are hundreds of muggings every day in this city, and I have no doubt that wasn’t the first time he’s done something like that. He’s obviously good at getting away with it.
I didn’t even see any of his features thanks to the ski mask covering his face. But I do remember his beady, brown eyes and his voice — his thick Irish accent and gravelly tone that will surely make an appearance in my nightmares tonight.
An uncontrollable shiver runs through me even though I’m standing under the hottest temperature of water I can tolerate in Damon’s shower.
A knock on the door has me jumping. “Victoria?” Damon calls. “I laid out some clothes in my bedroom for you when you’re done.”
“Thank you,” I say even though I’m sure the water drowned out my voice.
