Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 130159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Thankfully, Beck was right beside her, palming Seth between the shoulder blades and sending him the most sympathetic of gazes. “Jesus, I had no idea. I’m sorry, too.”
Seth stood stiff, unyielding and unmoving for the span of a few heartbeats. Finally, he buried his face in her neck and clung to her as if he couldn’t make it another moment without her. His fingers bit into her waist, his exhalations desperate pants against her skin. Everything inside her ached for him, and she offered herself up—strength, fortitude, and heart. Whatever happened next between them, in that moment, she was his, however he needed her.
Behind them, Beck eased closer, clutching them both, reaffirming the circle of compassion and understanding. He gripped Seth’s shoulder with one hand, squeezing to convey his silent sympathy. He clutched her hip with the other, giving her another lifeline of support to pass on to Seth.
Everything about the moment—both its beauty and heartbreak—filled her eyes with tears.
“Shh.” Seth pulled away before she was ready to let him go. “Don’t cry for me.”
Did he really think she wouldn’t sob for all he’d lost?
He cupped her face and looked deep into her eyes as he thumbed her tears away. “I’m okay. It was a long time ago. And I have no one to blame but myself.”
“That’s not true. You didn’t blow up your family.”
“I might as well have.”
“Man, you’re not the only one at fault,” Beck insisted. “Granted, you didn’t listen to the warnings, but the killer did all the heavy lifting.”
“Maybe.” Seth shrugged and stepped away. “But I’m not at the end of the story.”
When he gestured them to the sofa again, he clasped his hands behind his back and paced away, separating himself from them again. Heavenly cast a worried glance at Beck. What more could he have to say after he’d already ripped out their hearts? She felt more than a little guilty that they’d pushed him to open up about something so horrific and painful. But to understand him, they’d needed to know.
Beck took her hand and helped her settle on the sofa again as he addressed Seth. “From conversations we’ve had, I know you didn’t just grieve and go on with your life.”
Seth smiled acidly. “I didn’t. Autumn and Tristan were barely in the ground before I dove back into the case. This time I was unrelenting. Even though a psych eval cleared me to return to work, I took a leave of absence. I was going to catch this motherfucker. If he thought taking my family out would stop me, I aimed to prove him wrong. Now I had nothing to lose.”
“Except your own life.”
Seth shrugged. “At that point, I didn’t care. But resuming the case wasn’t that easy. Tony warned me to back down because the brass was worried about me. They thought I was a loose cannon, and he’d heard whispers they were considering placing me on administrative leave. I cleaned up my act for a bit—on the surface. But really I just took my investigation deeper underground. Gene figured me out, and those same strings he pulled to get me an interview after I passed the detective exam? He pulled them to have me locked out of the cold case. Then he sat me down and told me I was on a suicide path. And since my father wasn’t there to stop me, he would. He reminded me that my mother couldn’t handle losing me, too. My captain absolutely ripped me a new one. Everywhere I turned, the people around me became roadblocks. They meant well, but I wasn’t giving up. This killer had taken everything from me. And goddamn it, I was going to have revenge.”
Horror filled Heavenly. Had he gone insane? Maybe so. Grief could do that to a person. She knew that firsthand.
“What did you do?” Beck asked.
“Eventually? I quit. I hung up my badge, walked away from everyone in my life—my mother and brothers, my friends, even Graffiti—and I dedicated my life to getting even.” Seth hung his head, then turned once more to stare sightlessly out at the pool. “What happened next was…ugly.
“I started prowling New York’s seedy underbelly until I made the right connections. From there, I greased the right palms and did the right favors until I was allowed to ask the right people the right questions. Finally, I did a few favors for someone I was never supposed to know, much less exchange intel with. He gave me the name I wanted. I went to the asshole’s seedy apartment deep in South Bronx.” He glanced over his shoulder at them. “In case you don’t know, if you can’t take care of yourself, you should never go to that neighborhood. I found the son of a bitch home alone, and I cuffed him to a chair in his dirty-ass kitchen. I pressed my gun to his forehead and forced him to tell me exactly how he’d rigged the explosive in my wife’s car. He babbled. He apologized. He claimed he had no malice against me; he merely wanted to stop me from exposing him as the killer in the cold case. After that, he started crying and begging. But he wouldn’t tell me anything else and his usefulness was at an end. So I blew out his brains, walked away from his apartment, showered, and waited for the sun to rise. Then I called my mother for the first time in months. She honestly hadn’t known whether I was dead or alive. I went to see her, and we had breakfast. I apologized but refused to answer questions. She still doesn’t know what happened to this day.”