For 100 Nights

  Still, dread settles cold in my stomach as I stare into his narrowed, predatory eyes—eyes that are so like Martin Coyle’s I cannot curb the shudder that wracks me. “If you’re talking about the fact that your father repeatedly abused me and eventually raped me, save your breath. Nick already knows.”

  The news catches him by surprise, but it doesn’t move him. No, that vulture’s stare refuses to let me go. “That’s all he knows, though, right? There’s something nobody knows about you.”

  He’s not asking a question. I can see from the satisfied look on Rodney’s face that he’s been confident in his knowledge for a very long time.

  From the beginning, if I had to guess.

  He confirms it with a chilling smile.

  “I saw your car parked outside the house that afternoon, Avery. Me and some buddies were coming back from an all-nighter and just by chance we drove past the old man’s place. There was that piece of shit Honda of yours sittin’ in the driveway.”

  I don’t say anything. Dear God, I can hardly draw a breath as he continues to describe the day that’s branded into my memory.

  “Now, maybe I wouldn’t’ve thought nothin’ of it. Prolly a good chance I would’ve plain forgot, but later on, after the news broke all over town that the sonofabitch was killed and your mom confessed, I remember thinking how odd it was that she made a point of telling everyone she was alone when she popped the old man. That you were gone all day.”

  “I was at my grandparents’ house,” I murmur, repeating the story my mother made me tell following the killing. “I was sick that day and I stayed home from school. Mom sent me to Gran’s that morning, then she and Martin started fighting . . .”

  Rodney chuckles even before I finish reciting the lie. “Yeah, I know that’s what she told the cops. But you and me, baby girl, we know different. Ain’t that right?”

  I stare at him, realizing with cold certainty that he is a problem I cannot outrun. Not now.

  “If you’re so sure you have something over me, why wait until now to speak up?”

  He shrugs. “My old man got what was comin’ to him. I sure as shit didn’t shed any tears when I heard the asshole was dead. And I didn’t give a fuck why your mother did it. Nothing for me to gain by stirring shit up back then. You two bitches were poor as fuck. What did you have that I could possibly want?” His grin flattens into a leer. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you and me, baby girl, we coulda made things interesting. But the way the old man used to look at you, I figured he’d already been all over that fine little ass and I don’t take sloppy seconds.”

  As he talks, bile rises up the back of my throat. To think he knew what his father intended for me and never bothered to speak out or to help me? It sickens me. Enrages me. My fingers curl into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms.

  He steps closer to me. “I’d about forgotten what I saw that morning . . . until a couple months ago, I ran across a picture on the Internet. Picture of you all fancied up, hanging off the arm of some rich dude who owns half of New York by the looks of it. Hot piece of tail like you, guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you’re using it to snag a rich fuck like Dominic Baine.”

  His crudeness grates, but even worse, I hate that he knows Nick’s name. I hate that I have brought this vile part of my past into my life with Nick. I have no one to blame—not even Rodney. This is all my fault, and I need to make it better. I need to make it go away.

  The problem is, I can’t give Rodney what he’s demanding.

  “I don’t have the kind of money you want. And I won’t take it from him—not for any reason.”

  “Then you got a big problem coming down the pike real soon. I came here to collect on a debt you’ve owed me for a long time, and if I don’t get it, there’s no telling what I’ll be forced to do.”

  “Rodney, you have to believe me—”

  “No, baby girl. You have to believe me. I want that money. You’ve got the next seven days to make it happen.” He reaches out, snatching my purse off the floor and grabbing my phone from inside it. He punches in a number and his phone rings. Then he silences both devices, tossing mine at me. “I expect to hear from you once you’ve got the money. Don’t be stupid enough to test me, Avery.”

  With a sneer, he leaves me to sag against the hard porcelain of the sink as he pivots toward the restroom door. Unlocking it as if he had every right to be inside with me, he blithely strides out.

  Oh, God. My breath rushes from my lungs in a heaving gasp. My legs feel weak, unstable beneath me. I’m not sure how long I stand there, suspended between misery and terror. My hands are shaking so hard, they are all but useless to me as I stare into the mirror and try to gather my composure.

  Nick will be wondering about me soon, if he isn’t already. With Rodney outside the restroom now, I have no idea what he might do and I don’t dare delay in here any longer. Forcing myself to calm, I run some cold water over a paper towel and press the coolness to my ashen cheeks and brow.

  It helps a little. I look better, even if inside I’m nauseous with dread and worry. After a few moments, I finally emerge from the restroom and head back into the restaurant dining area. Nick is no longer on the phone, and I see that he’s paid our bill.

  “Everything okay?” he asks as I approach our table. “You’ve been gone awhile.”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” I shrug, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “There’s always a line for the ladies’ room.”

  My non-answer seems to satisfy him, but I notice his shrewd gaze looking past me, as if his instincts alone are telling him something is off. I barely resist the urge to glance over my shoulder, especially when the hairs at the back of my neck begin to prickle.

  I don’t know how I manage to sound calm when I am desperate to get out of the place. “Ready to go?”

  Nick nods. “Sure. We can leave anytime.”

  At that same moment, to my horror, I catch Rodney in my peripheral vision. He swaggers through the restaurant, walking almost directly past our table on his way out. As he heads for the front door, I hold my breath, praying he’ll keep going. Outside, he turns left on the sidewalk, finally disappearing from view.

  I know Nick saw him, even if there is no reason for him to think anything of the man in the beer logo T-shirt and jeans who looks like any other patron in the place.

  “Do you want me to take you back to the studio?”

  “No.” I shake my head, forcing myself to snap out of my anxious distractedness. “I, um . . . I’m feeling kind of out of it. Maybe I had too much wine or something. Can we please just go home instead?”

  “Of course.”

  Nick wraps his arm around my shoulders as he guides me away from the table.

  As we get into his car at the curb, I’m relieved to see no trace of Rodney anywhere. But I know he’s watching. I know he’s waiting.

  After today, I realize he’s been watching and waiting for a long time.

  Since the day I pulled the trigger and shot his father.

  Chapter 14

  Rodney’s threat hangs over me, cold and dank and inescapable. I’m not sure how I make it through the weekend and into the next week with the dread of the situation pressing down on me like the dead weight of a corpse.

  Like Martin Coyle’s bloodied, bullet-riddled corpse.

  Ironic that I have him and the abuse I suffered at his hands to thank for my current ability to pretend everything is normal, no matter what I’m dealing with on the inside.

  Being with Nick helps too.

  He is my safe harbor, even if he doesn’t know how badly I need his shelter now. He’s so passionate and protective, so solid and strong, I can almost convince myself that none of the ugliness is happening. That Rodney doesn’t know anything about that awful day. That he’s not here in New York, making me afraid to leave the building for fear that I’ll run into him—with or without Nick beside me.

  I can almost believe, for brief stretches of time, that Martin Coyle never e
xisted.

  And that my mother isn’t serving a life sentence purely out of love for me.

  Of all my secrets, shames, and sins, it is this one that’s been the hardest to bear.

  “Where are you, baby?” Nick’s deep voice draws me back to him as we lie in a tangle together in bed on Tuesday morning. Propping himself on one elbow, he strokes my cheek, his touch infinitely gentle after a vigorous couple of hours of intense, mind-blowing sex. As tender as his touch is, his gaze is dark with concern. “Something’s been bothering you for days. What is it?”

  I shake my head as I look up into his stormy blue eyes, hating that he can read me so well. Loving him for it too. Of all the people in my life, he’s the only one who understands me so intimately that he can gauge my emotions even when my self-protective walls are at their highest.

  But I can’t let those walls down, not now.

  Not even with him.

  God, right now, especially not with him.

  “I’m fine. I’m just . . . thinking.”

  As I murmur the lame explanation I turn my head away from him, because the care in his eyes is too much for me to take. If I look too long, I’ll be tempted to bare my soul and that’s a burden I won’t place on him.

  My problems are my own. I made them. I will be the one to fix them, if I can.

  And if I can’t fix them, then I have to be prepared to walk away from Nick before my past brushes any closer to him and his world.

  I’ve already let it come too damn close.

  I close my eyes, summoning an evenness to my voice that I don’t feel. “What I’m thinking is I’m a mess and I need to take a shower.”

  As I start to roll away from him, his hand clamps down on my wrist. He’s not playing. There is no give in his grasp. My retreat stalled, I have no choice but to turn back to him.

  “Tell me, Avery.”

  “Tell you what?”

  His stare is hard, his grip on my arm unyielding. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been different . . . distant. Something’s got you upset.”

  I swallow past the knot of fear that’s resided in my throat since my confrontation with Rodney.

  I don’t want to lie to Nick. I can’t betray his trust when he’s given me no reason to feel unsafe with him. But I can’t tell him what I’m going through.

  I can’t tell him what I’ve done.

  No one can know. That was the promise I gave my mother nine years ago.

  If I could go back in time now and undo it, I would.

  I would give anything to go back and convince my mother to let me stay at her side instead of leaving her to clean up my mess.

  Everything I have—my life, my freedom, this amazing man and the love I feel for him—is a gift I wouldn’t have if not for my mother’s sacrifice.

  I would undo all of it, even knowing it would mean I’d never have met Nick.

  “I’ve just . . .” I force a casual shrug. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  “So, tell me about it.” I should know better than to try to dodge him. He only studies me closer, his sharp gaze narrowing. “When is the last time you spoke to her?”

  I must look surprised, maybe even shocked. When I can’t summon words, Nick lets go of my wrist but brings his hand up to cradle the side of my face.

  “Don’t say you haven’t been worried about your mother, Avery. You’ve been avoiding talking about her for days. And it’s not like you were very forthcoming before then.” His gaze searches mine. “We should go see her. I want to talk to her about her legal representation and start putting that ball in motion.”

  Panic crawls up my spine. “Nick, you don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t.” His thumb caresses my cheek. “I want to do it. For you, and for her. I’ve already got Beck working on a few contacts. We should have a new defense team put together in a couple of weeks.”

  “What?” I can’t control the sharpness of my reply. I’m shocked. More than that, I’m alarmed and gripped with a new kind of dread. “You didn’t tell me anything about this.”

  “Actually, I did. I mentioned what I wanted to do at lunch that day at Gavin’s restaurant.”

  I remember the conversation, of course. I’d been just as opposed to the idea then, and he’d said nothing about giving his attorney orders to begin the process. My mother won’t want this, and he has no idea what he’ll be stirring up if her case were to be reopened.

  “You didn’t even ask me, Nick.” I pull away from him, sliding to the edge of the bed. “You have no right to insert yourself into my life like this!”

  His expression stills, then hardens. “That’s funny. I thought I already was inserted into your life.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?” He pivots to the other side of the mattress and stands to face me, naked and formidable. His hands are fisted loosely at his sides, and I can see from his rigid stance that he is furious. “What the fuck is going on, Avery?”

  I stare at him across the wide expanse of his king-size bed. It feels like more than a mile is separating us in this moment, but I don’t dare reach across it. In some sense, the physical distance gives me strength. I’d rather have him angry and shutting me out than see him drawn any deeper into the mess I’ve created.

  I’d rather have him hate me now than face his disappointment if he ever learns the worst of my lies.

  “I didn’t ask for your help with my mom’s situation, Nick.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Clipped words. A tendon pulses in his jaw as he looks at me. “I thought we were well past the point where you’d need to ask me. Am I wrong about that?”

  I could push him away with a careless reply. I feel the volatility of this moment and I know I could end things between us right here and now.

  Part of me knows I should. Without Nick’s wealth and status in the equation, Rodney’s threat to expose me carries no weight. I’m not afraid of facing the consequences for what I’ve done. In many ways, it would be a relief. What I cannot bear is the thought of Rodney using my sins against Nick and everything he’s built.

  “Am I wrong about us, Avery?”

  “No.” I slowly shake my head, unable to deny him or what he means to me. “You’re not wrong about us.”

  “Then tell me what this is really about.”

  I want to. God, how I want to blurt everything out to him and hope, pray, that he’ll understand. He’s forgiven me for lying to him when we first met, but how can I expect him to forgive the rest of the lies that still hang between us? Lies of omission and half-truths. Lies that have protected me for half my life.

  He demanded trust and honesty from me—things I promised to give him freely.

  Things I have never dared to give anyone before him.

  “Tell me what’s really bothering you, Avery.” His voice is steady and calm, but firm with command. He walks around the bed, closing the distance between us. “You’re afraid of something. If it’s not me, then what is it?”

  I feel the weight of my promise to him as I hold his penetrating gaze. I owe him my trust. He’s earned it, after all.

  But the words stall in my throat.

  “You just . . . You caught me off guard, that’s all.” I reach out to him and find his jaw like granite against my fingertips. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  His eyes study me too closely. He is not a man who is fooled easily, and I’m not naive enough to assume he believes me now.

  But he doesn’t push me to deepen my lie.

  “I’ll tell Beck to hold off on those calls.” Reaching up for my hand, he draws it from his face. “I have meetings at the office all day. I need to clean up and get out of here.”

  He steps away from me without another touch or another word.

  I watch him go, feeling the coldness of his withdrawal like a chill that’s opened up in my chest. I want to follow after him, but my feet stay rooted to the floor. Guilt and regret sit like acid on my to
ngue, but they are nothing compared to the bitter taste of my cowardice.

  As the sound of the running shower drifts out from the large master bathroom, my phone rings on the nightstand with an incoming call.

  I reach for it, half expecting I’ll find Rodney waiting for me on the other end of the line. For one perversely self-destructive moment, I actually hope it’s him, at the same time imagining Nick coming back out of the bathroom to catch me talking with my stepbrother and leave me no choice but to confess everything I’m holding in.

  But it’s not Rodney.

  “Hi, Matt.”

  “Hey.” Matt’s cheery voice jolts me back to the here and now. “So, we still on for Lita’s thing this afternoon?”

  It takes my brain a second to catch up. “Um. That’s today?”

  “At one o’clock in Greenpoint. Oh, shit. Please don’t tell me you’re going to cancel.”

  The excuse that’s perched at the tip of my tongue dissolves when I hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “No. No, it’s all good,” I assure him. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

  He exhales dramatically. “Oh, thank God. Lita’s already called and texted me five times this morning about one neurotic thing or another. I swear there’s not enough cheap Chardonnay in all of Greenpoint to get me through an entire afternoon of her angsting.”

  I laugh, even though I don’t really feel it. We make arrangements to meet up at the gallery, and although an exhibition forty-five minutes away in Brooklyn is the last thing I feel like doing today, I don’t want to let my new friends down. I also know I can’t cower in the penthouse any longer, wishing my problems would just go away.

  Sooner than later, I need to figure out how I’m going to deal with Rodney.

  And if I can’t deal with him, I need to figure out how I’m going to find the strength to walk away from Nick.

  Chapter 15

  I set out for Lita’s exhibition in Brooklyn a little past noon, using the long subway ride and the crush of people all around me to drown out the noise in my head. It’s not so easy to drown my remorse. My guilt for how I left things with Nick this morning clings to me as I get off at the station in Greenpoint.