Behind Your Back

  “Fine, fine,” he says. “Hold on, I’ll bring up the tracker in his phone.”

  There’s some clicking and then silence.

  “He’s at the other apartment. The one he brought you to.” Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?

  “Thanks,” I say, hanging up before he says anything else. I’m down the stairs and heading for my car. I remember where the place is. I’m good at directions. Once I’ve been someplace, even if I didn’t drive, I can find it again.

  I let out the biggest sigh of relief when I see the BMW. Thank God.

  I rush into the building and up to his floor. I don’t even bother with the doorbell. I just bang on the door with my fist.

  “Sylas? Sylas, open up!” I don’t give a shit if I’m disturbing his neighbors.

  The door opens and there he is. I launch myself at him and he catches me.

  “Where were you?” I ask as I squeeze the life out of him.

  “I told you I had some things to do at home,” he says, patting my back as if I’m overreacting. A red flag immediately goes up.

  “You weren’t at home. I went there and you weren’t there. Why didn’t you call me? I needed you to call me.” He lets me go and I land with a thump on my feet. I’ve always liked our height difference, but I’m not very fond of it right now. I simultaneously want to kiss and strangle him.

  “Sorry, I just got busy.”

  “That’s not a fucking answer, Sylas. What the hell is going on?” I look around him. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone else were here.

  He’s closed off to me and it reminds me of when he was playing the part of Quinn. At least, at first. He was much more reserved than his real personality. I hold his face in both hands and force him to look at me.

  “You had me scared, Sylas. I need an explanation.” I dig my fingers into his skin, hard enough to hurt, but I need him to know how frightened I was that something had happened to him.

  “I’m sorry. I just… I had something to do.” No, this is not fucking happening. I remove my hands from his face, put them on his chest and shove him backwards until we’re in the apartment. I turn to slam the door and lock it.

  “Explain. Now.”

  He takes a deep breath and then steps away from me.

  “I was working, okay? I was doing a job.” My heart drops.

  “What kind of job?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Fuck you, I want to know. Tell me now.”

  What is it with stubborn men? I’m surrounded by them. I cross my arms and I’m about two seconds away from stomping my feet like a toddler.

  I need to tell him about his father, but I have to deal with this first.

  “I was doing surveillance and I had to turn my phone off so I wouldn’t be detected. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, Saige. I really am.” That I believe. He does look sorry.

  “Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Jesus.” I have to walk away from him for a minute. I go and sit on the hard couch. I hate this apartment. It’s clinical and cold and boring.

  Sylas comes to sit next to me.

  “You fucked up, Sylas. Big time. I really need to tell you something. If we’re going to do this, you and me, you have to tell me what’s going on. I don’t need to know every single detail, but if you’re going to be gone all night, I need to know.” He listens to me and nods, his hands clasped together.

  “You’re right. I’m just not used to being accountable to someone else. It’s just been me for a long time.” I’m not exactly buying his explanation, but I have to tell him about his father.

  “The reason I’m so upset with you is that my father told me something and he asked me not to tell you, but I think you need to know.” He sits up and I decide to take his hands in mine.

  “Tell me,” he says, but there is absolutely no way to prepare him for this.

  “Your father didn’t die in prison. He’s alive and he’s in Texas.” I watch as my words hit him. He’s still. So still. His hands are clamped on mine and his face is frozen.

  Finally, he blinks and surges to his feet.

  “That’s a lie. He’s dead.”

  I shake my head.

  “He’s not.” I reach into my back pocket and bring out one of the surveillance pictures I was able to snag. He unfolds it and stares at it. His hand shakes.

  “It isn’t possible,” he whispers. “It just isn’t possible.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I seem to be saying that a lot lately.

  “No,” he says, crumpling up the picture and throwing it on the floor. “It’s a lie. He’s dead. He’s dead!” He storms through the apartment, and, if he’s anything like my father, I’m glad there isn’t a whole lot of stuff for him to destroy.

  “I don’t know more of the details. My father does. He wants to kill him.” That makes him whirl around and glare at me.

  “Where is he?” I’m not sure which “he” Sylas is referring to.

  My throat is so dry. I need some water. “My father? Or yours?”

  “Yours,” he growls. “Mine is dead.”

  Shit.

  “I don’t know. I think he’s at home.” As soon as I say it, he’s charging toward the door and I’m rushing after him.

  “If you’re going to see him, you’re taking me with you,” I yell, but I don’t think he hears me. It’s hard for me to keep up with him as he barrels down the street to the BMW. He gets in and slams the door and I have just enough time to yank open the passenger side and throw myself in before he peels away from the curb.

  I click my seatbelt, and tell Sylas to put his on, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m in the car. His foot is slammed down on the accelerator and he runs through two red lights.

  “Sylas. You’re going to get pulled over and then we’re never going to get there.” He doesn’t acknowledge me, but he does pause a little at stop signs and he’s not so aggressive on the accelerator.

  We make it to my parents’ house in one piece and I cringe because my mother’s car is there, along with my father’s. This is going to be interesting to explain.

  Sylas out of the car and through the door before I can unclick my seatbelt. I rush after him and Martha comes out, flustered.

  “Where is he?” Sylas roars. Dad appears at the top of the stairs and Sylas take them two at a time to get to him.

  “Sylas? What are you doing here?” Dad says warily.

  “I told him,” I say, loud enough for Dad to hear before Sylas gets to him. He reaches Dad before I’m halfway up the stairs. I scream as Sylas grabs my father’s throat and shoves him backward until he’s slammed up against the wall.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sylas roars into my dad’s face. I finally reach them and throw myself on Sylas.

  “Let go of him!” I scream in his ear. But it’s like trying to move a raging bull. I watch as Dad tries to get free, his eyes popping and his skin getting whiter.

  “Let go!” I scream, pounding on Sylas. If I don’t do something, Sylas is going to kill him.

  “Sylas, you’re killing him.” He must hear me on some level because he opens his hand and Dad crumples to the floor, gasping. I rush to him, to make sure he’s okay.

  “Dad?” He gasps and holds his hand up.

  “I’m fine,” he wheezes and coughs a bunch of times. There are red marks on his throat and I know there are going to be bruises.

  He slides upward until he’s sitting with his knees up and his back against the wall.

  “I’m fine, really Saige,” he says. His voice is raspy and I wonder if I should call an ambulance. I turn and look up at Sylas. The rage is still in his eyes, but there’s something else there that’s even stronger.

  Pain.

  I’ve seen it before, but never this strong. Never this intense.

  “Sylas?” I say and he looks down at me. He clenches and unclenches his hands, staring at them as if he’s never seen them before.

&nbsp
; “I’m sorry?” he says, like it’s a question. “I’m sorry.” He blinks, totally dazed.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Dad again. He nods and I stand. I reach out to Sylas. I touch his shoulder and then push him a little. He doesn’t resist, so I grab him and lead him down the hall to my room. Even though he just tried to throttle my dad, I’m not afraid of him.

  I close the door and turn to face him. He’s sitting on the bed, still looking thunderstruck.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

  “I know,” I say. “But you did.” He nods slowly. I walk until I’m standing right in front of him.

  “My father can’t be alive. He can’t be.” He reaches out and grabs onto my waist, burying his head in my stomach.

  I reach down and stroke his hair. I’m watching the destruction of the man I love. He’s breaking apart in front of me and I don’t know what to do to hold him together.

  “I used to dream that he was alive. That he would show up and find me, or find Lizzy. Back then I thought he just had a hand in her death. I didn’t know he caused it.” His shoulders shake and I just keep stroking his hair and holding onto him.

  “He can’t be alive,” he says again, but he doesn’t seem as sure. I’m about to say something, anything, but there’s a knock at the door. It opens and Dad pokes his head in. Sylas looks up and I’m glad that I’m standing in between him and Dad.

  “I’m sorry,” Sylas says.

  Dad just nods once.

  “This is why I said not to tell him, Saige,” Dad says, looking at me. Is he seriously telling me this is my fault?

  “He needed to know. That man killed his mother.” I find myself feeling protective of Sylas. He’s never had anyone to protect him. He’s always been the protector.

  Dad rubs his neck where the red marks are already starting to turn into bruises.

  “You’re lucky your mother is passed out.” She likes to mix meds and alcohol and has a tendency to sleep for long periods in the middle of the day.

  “You’re a liar,” Sylas says, and stands up. I still make sure I’m between the two men.

  “I wish I was. I only just found out myself. He was able to weasel his way into Witness Protection and then he was able to change his identity a number of times and completely fall off the radar. I was only able to find him because he showed up in some surveillance photos. But you don’t have to worry about him. I have a team that’s on the way to get him and then I will dispose of him.”

  Sylas just keeps shaking his head.

  “No. No, no, no, no! Stop lying!” Sylas screams. He’s not going for Dad again, but he’s getting worked up.

  “I’m not lying,” Dad says slowly. “I can give you all the evidence I have. But you have to calm down and before we can talk.” Sylas starts breathing heavily, gasping.

  “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe,” he says, his hand on his chest. He’s having another panic attack.

  “Sit down,” I say, pushing on his shoulders so he’s back on the bed. “Dad, leave.” I don’t look to see if he obeys me, but I hear the door close.

  Getting down on my knees, I put my hand under his chin and force him to look at me.

  “We’re going to breathe together, okay? In, one, two, three, four, five, and out, one, two, three, four, five,” I say. He’s still gasping, but after a few more tries, he starts slowing his breathing and I can feel him coming out of it. He blinks and then I know he’s back. It feels like déjà vu. The last time he got a lot of information dropped on him, he reacted the same way. It’s like his brain and body just overload and he can’t deal with it.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay,” I say, stroking his face. Even with everything that’s been going on in the past two days, I can’t deny that I love him. That I love him so much it feels like it’s eating me alive.

  “I don’t even know what’s happening to me. What’s happening to me?” he says, and he sounds scared. Like a scared little boy.

  “You’re going through a lot right now, Sylas.” I doubt he’s ever talked to a therapist, but that might be a good idea. Maybe after we get through this crisis. If we get through it.

  “I don’t believe it,” he says.

  “I know, I know. But let’s calm down a little more and then we can go downstairs and you can decide for yourself.” I keep my voice even and calm.

  “Why are you doing this for me?” he asks, reaching out and rubbing his thumb across my lower lip. I really want to kiss him, but it’s probably not the best idea right now.

  “Because I love you.”

  “You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it,” he says.

  “And that’s why I do. Because you don’t think that you do.” He licks his lips and I think about kissing him again. He seems stable now, so I get to my feet and hold my hand out.

  “Come on.” He follows me out of the room and down the stairs.

  Fourteen

  Dad has papers scattered all over his desk when we walk in, including all the surveillance photos.

  Sylas clears his throat and Dad looks up from the papers.

  “I’m very sorry for attacking you. I lost it and I lashed out.” Dad nods.

  “Apology accepted. I know how it feels to get to that place.” He looks at me and I know he’s talking about when he had his breakdown in here. Dad coughs again and then points down at his desk.

  “This is it. Everything. You can look at it all you want, and verify it with Cash, but it’s all there.” Cash?

  Sylas’ head snaps up at the mention of Cash.

  “Cash knows about this?” Oh, shit. Here we go again.

  “He’s the one who found the surveillance photos and told me.”

  I hold my breath and wait for Sylas to fall apart again, but he just stares straight ahead for a moment and then back down at the papers. I guess he can only freak out so much today and he’s reached his quota. But I have the feeling a scene like the one upstairs is going to happen again soon, but with Cash on the other end. The only difference is that Cash is physically stronger than Sylas and has more training to fight off an attack.

  I hold back as Sylas looks through everything, picking up the pictures and examining them, holding them close to his face. Trying to see if they’ve been faked. After he looks at them, he stacks them together and puts them on one side of the desk before going through the rest of the evidence.

  I end up sitting on the chair and letting him have his space. I’m sure I’ll get my chance to look at all of it, but it’s Sylas’ right to see this first. Dad leans against one of the bookshelves, watching Sylas.

  He’s completely focused, looking at each page, reading it and then adding it to the pile he’s already gone through. He finally finishes the last one and then straightens the pile and hands it back to Dad.

  “I won’t believe it until I see him myself,” he says and I don’t blame him. If I thought someone was dead, and was told they weren’t, I’d want to make absolutely sure they were alive.

  “I understand,” Dad says and I think he’s going to reiterate that he’s going to kill Andrew, but he doesn’t. Maybe seeing Sylas’ reaction has changed his mind. I mean, if anyone has the right to kill him, it should be Sylas. If that’s where they take this. There’s no doubt this is a man who deserves to die, but are they willing to cross that line?

  “I know you loved my mother and you want to avenge her, but he’s mine to take care of. He’s my father. I watched him destroy my mother. I watched as he broke her spirit every day. No matter how much you love her, you can never have more of a right than I do,” Sylas says, his voice even and serious. I’m shocked at how calm he is now, given how he was freaking out less than an hour ago.

  Dad opens his mouth to argue, but Sylas puts his hand up.

  “You’re not going to change my mind. No matter what you say. I’m glad that you found him, but this is my job. My mess to take care of.” It’s not his mess. All of this was caused by one man. O
ne stupid, horrible man.

  I don’t know if killing his father is going to make Sylas feel better or worse. I don’t know if it will give him the peace he needs. But he needs the chance to find out. It’s not my choice to make, but his.

  Dad and Sylas share a moment and I feel like an intruder. They stare at one another and something unsaid passes between them. Dad nods, picks up the stack of papers and hands them to Sylas.

  “Thank you,” Sylas says, closing his eyes and exhaling. “Thank you.”

  Sylas leaves the office, but I stay with Dad. I know Sylas is going to wait for me up in my room.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him. I’ve been saying this a lot as well.

  “No, I’m not. I just gave up on the woman I love.” He’s staring out the window again. I walk toward him and rest my head against his shoulder.

  “You’re honoring her memory.” If killing the man who killed her can be called “honor.” I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

  “Seeing his face brought everything back. How she slowly lost her beautiful light. He crushed it from her. Stomped her under his foot. He deserves so much more than death. So much more.” His voice shakes.

  I brush my hand up and down his back.

  “I know, but you can’t let this eat at you for the rest of your life. She’s not alive anymore, but you are. I’m here and I love you and then there’s Lizzy. Don’t forget about her. You’re going to love her and I’m sure she’s going to love you.” I need to make him focus on what he has, not what he’s lost.

  He exhales through his nose.

  “You’re right. You’re right.” He looks down at me. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted lately. So distant.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, giving him another hug. “I love you, okay?” He puts his arms around me.

  “I know. I love you, too.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head and then I tell him I’m going to go with Sylas. I have no idea what our next move is, but I have the feeling it’s going to involve a trip to Texas.

  “I’ll let you know what’s going on,” I say, just before I close the door. He goes back to gazing at the garden.