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When we arrived home, the feds swarmed around us and the media had already pitched camp outside the gate. I traded a glance with Steve and pulled my keys out of my pocket.
“I’m going to see Sandy.” I stepped toward the decimated doors of the garage, ignoring the chaos surrounding our home in Maine.
Steve gave me a nod. “Drive safe,” he said before he turned towards his ex-boss, effectively dismissing me.
I didn’t envy him; trying to explain the blood soaked family room and equally stained back yard was going to be difficult and I know the death of his old partner was something that would eat away at him for years. Instead of staying and helping, I bolted, leaving the four of them to clean up the mess. Sliding into my car, I backed it out of the driveway, away from the police and away from the cameras and microphones.
As soon as I hit the highway and the silence descended, the previous night’s events hit like a tractor-trailer mowing through a stalled car. My eyes stung and my vision blurred, the road wobbled under the sheen of tears and I swallowed, forcing down the lump wedged in my throat.
“Damn it." I swiped the wetness from my cheeks and pressed the gas pedal, tipping the speedometer into the territory of dangerous. By the time I hit the interstate 84 interchange, my tears had dried up, but my eyes still burned and the emptiness overtaking my soul still threatened.
The rest of the drive into Hartford was quiet and I concentrated on breathing, on relaxing the coil that had tightened in the center of my chest. My head throbbed as I pulled into the visitor’s parking lot outside Sandy’s dorm at the University of Hartford. I took a moment and leaned my head on the edge of my steering wheel trying to get my emotions in check.
I exhaled when I realize I’d been holding my breath and pulled the keys from the ignition, stepping out into the cool night. The slap of cold air cleared my head and I scanned the parking lot. I really didn’t want to have to wait for her in the lobby of her building, or worse, track her down at her job. It took two passes before I located her car and relief settled into my muscles, leaving me unsteady, like I’d had too much to drink. I closed my eyes, willing myself to shake it off.
I was not in the mood for chatting with the resident assistant at the desk while I waited for Sandy to come sign me in, so instead of buzzing in as I had in the past, I silently commanded the doors to open and kept walking past the busy reception desk, like I belonged. No one paid attention to me and I slipped up the stairs, tuning out all thoughts accosting me.
I didn’t bother knocking on her door, either, and when the wood swung open, I stopped, frozen in place with my hand on the handle. Sandy turned from her straddled position and gasped. Neither she, nor the guy she was riding, expected visitors and they certainly did not expect me.
I couldn’t move. I just stared, dumbfounded, until my fingers tingled, reminding me that I hadn’t turned to stone. Reality set in and my heart tumbled to the floor, shriveling to a blackened husk. When I stepped into the room, the door swung behind me and closed with an ominous click.
Sandy pulled the sheet around her, attempting to cover her naked form and that was the final trigger.
A harsh laugh escaped, one that even I didn't recognize, and I crossed my arms. “So this is the reason you can’t seem to find time for me,” I said with a voice that was nothing more than a feral growl and Sandy’s face transformed into a mask of fear.
“Chris... I,” Sandy started and turned her back for a minute, but she didn’t disengage from the man under her. In fact, I caught the look he traded with her, along with his thoughts, before Sandy turned back. The betrayal ran deeper than just a sordid fuck, it involved feelings, and when she met my glare, I knew it was over.
The ache to strike out ballooned and my fists curled as the fury overrode all senses.
“Don’t,” she yelled, twisting so she protected the bastard who stole her heart. Both her hands came up, and her wide eyes shot to my soul, fracturing what little reserve I had left.
I snarled and clenched my teeth, letting the fury snake through my body, poisoning my blood until my skin burned. “You’re fucking kidding me. You’re protecting that shithead?”
Sandy knew exactly what I was capable of and her fear blanketed me, stopping me from letting lose. Tears filled her eyes and she finally slid off him, taking the space next to him on the mattress. She pulled the sheet over her exposed flesh and nodded. “His name is Josh,” she said, like that made all the difference in the world.
“You don’t need to protect me,” Josh said and started to sit up.
I twitched, shooting a concentrated blast in his direction. Josh slammed back on the mattress with an audible ‘oof’. His hands flew to his throat clawing at my invisible strangle hold. The fear in his eyes sparked a smile and I suddenly understood the rush my father always spoke about. He was right. There’s nothing quite like scaring the shit out of someone.
“Chris, stop,” Sandy yelled breaking through my concentration.
I let go and Josh gasped for air, his features now holding the same layers of fear as Sandy’s.
“What the hell are you?” Josh whispered.
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” I said, borrowing my father’s favorite warning, and then shifted my gaze to Sandy. “Why?” I asked because I couldn’t figure out what this chump had that I didn't.
“I didn’t plan on this,” she said, wrapping the sheet tighter. “It just happened.”
“Do you have any clue how many girls I’ve fought off over the years?” I started and stopped, shifting my stance and glaring at the floor. “How many times I said no because of you?” I finished and met her teary stare.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please, what?” I snapped. “Don’t kill him? Don’t make a scene? What?”
“I should have told you,” she said.
“Damned right." I crossed my arms again. When she made no attempt to explain further, I pressed my lips together against every callous response. When I was certain I wouldn’t dig into her and had a solid grip on the need to strike out, I pointed an accusing finger in Josh’s direction. “That’s what you want?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said in an almost inaudible voice.
Disbelief swept through me, after all, I was CJ Ryan, heir to billions, a fucking Mensa-level genius, and I harbored enough psychic power to destroy the universe. I could offer her the world.
What the hell could he offer her?
The truth almost knocked the wind out of me. Josh could help patch up the rift Sandy had with her father. But knowing the one thing Josh brought to the equation that I couldn’t didn’t erase the pain.
“Really? After all these years? This is how it ends?”
She looked at the floor and then back. “Yes.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled and leveled a deadly glare. It took everything I had to turn and walk out of her room without unleashing hell. A door opened when I was halfway down the hall.
“Chris?”
Her voice stopped me but I refused to turn, not with her thoughts parading through my mind.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This isn’t the way...” she trailed off and every muscle in my body stiffened.
I didn’t need to ask the questions a normal man would ask. I got everything I needed to know from Josh’s thoughts and now Sandy’s weren’t hidden anymore, either.
“I know you can see,” she whispered and I glanced over my shoulder.
I could see everything that led up to this moment. Everything. The conflict, the fucking love she felt for that deadbeat. Everything.
And everything crushed my heart to a pulp.
“You’d better shut your mind off, because if I get any more of your insane narrative, I’m going to make this entire building implode,” I said, and I meant it. I needed to get away, now, before I lost control of the raging beast.
I didn’t wait; the minute I hit the stairs I was in full flight mode and the cold air slapped my face a few moments later. I leaned against the cool bricks, counting breaths until my gaze fell on the student parking lot... and her car.
The car I bought her and the anger leaped out before I could stop it.
The explosion echoed off the buildings and I blinked at the damage. Her car was in pieces, burnt metal littered the ground, and the cars surrounding hers were now in flames. It felt good to destroy and I exhaled, letting out a laugh, thankful that the loss of control only annihilated a car and not the entire university campus. I forced my feet to move forward toward the adjoining visitor’s lot.
My car couldn’t outrun the onslaught of fury. It couldn’t perform fast enough, not through the side streets of Hartford and certainly not on the highway. When lights and sirens appeared in my rearview mirror, I growled under my breath and considered doing the same kind of damage I did back at Sandy’s dorm. The only thing that stopped me was the damned moral compass my mother instilled in me. I have the same high regard for life that she had, and Steve, being a federal agent, just ingrained it further into me. It’s the one thing that separated me from my father and despite the disdain careening through me, I slowed my car, pulling over in the emergency lane and dropped the gears into neutral, setting the parking break before running my hands through my hair.
I knew just how deep in shit I was.
The cop took his time, radioing in the license plate before he finally approached the driver’s side door.
I glanced out the window, meeting the officer’s questioning gaze.
“Do you know how fast you were going?”
I knew. The needle was buried beyond the 120 mark and I considered saying no, but I nodded instead. My jaw ached from being clenched, and I kept my lips closed against the flurry of sarcastic responses that begged to leap forth.
His features hardened. “Please step out of the car,” he said and straightened, stepping away from the door with his hand on the butt of his gun.
“I haven’t been drinking,” I said, sending a glare out the window.
“Please step out of the car.”
“Fine,” I muttered and stepped out.
“Please put your hands on the car,” the officer said, his tone now stony.
I had been hauled into police stations more than once and knew the routine, but this time, I was silent, unlike the times in Maine and New Hampshire when I was younger and rebelling against the world with Tom.
After the officer patted me down, he stepped back, assessing me. “Please step to the back of the car,” he said after a few minutes of silence.
I stepped to the back and waited for the sobriety test instructions. Walk in a straight line, touch your nose, and stand on one foot. I did everything the officer instructed until the officer crossed his arms.
“Where’s the fire?” he finally asked.
A tractor-trailer zoomed by, creating a breeze that ruffled through my hair and I met the officer’s stare. “Ever catch your girlfriend in bed with another guy?” I asked and the cop’s eyebrows rose. “I guess I let it get the better of me.”
The officer rubbed his chin and chuckled. “That’s an understatement, son. I’m supposed to haul your ass in for the speed you were going.”
I leaned against the car and shrugged. “Do what you gotta do."
I really didn’t care. With what had transpired in the last forty-eight hours, a little jaunt in jail wasn’t the worst thing in the world and I almost laughed at the irony.
The officer studied me closer, his eyes narrowing as a new thought dawned, and I rolled my eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I said before the officer’s thought fully formed. “I’m angry, and I took it out on the road. If you have to arrest me, go ahead. I won’t give you any shit.”
The officer pressed his lips together; his internal debate broadcasting to me as if he was talking aloud. I waited, trying not to show my impatience or irritation at the pity blooming in the officer.
I knew his decision before he opened his mouth and my muscles relaxed.
“I’m going to give you a break,” he said. “But you have to give me your word that you won’t tear out of here like a bat out of hell.”
I allowed a smile to form and bit down on the first snide remark that entered my mind. Instead, I nodded and said, “Thanks."
“I’ve been there,” the cop added and snapped the ticket book closed. “Just keep it reasonable.”
I turned and climbed into the driver’s seat, squashing the urge to spin gravel at the squad car. The officer gave me a pass instead of doing his job, which was rare, and judiciousness won out. I started the ignition and pulled onto the road, bottling up the anger.