Beautifully Forgotten (22 page)

Lucien spent a few days at home, stewing. He damn well was going to get answers from Darcy, whether she liked it or not, but he needed to cool off or he was liable to say something that he couldn’t take back.

Tara called him on the third day of his absence because a band notorious for causing a ruckus was playing the club and he had completely forgotten. That night he was talking with one of the band members while he scanned the crowd for potential trouble and he found it, though not in the form he’d been expecting.

“Excuse me.”

He moved through the dance floor with the skill of someone who spent a lot of time in crowds, but his eyes were totally focused on Darcy, who was dancing up against some guy. Her hair was down, the thick black strands shone like silk, and the man was touching it, fisting it as he moved his hips against her. Her eyes were closed and she seemed lost in the music or the man. Her body swayed in time to the beat. He felt fury, as expected, but also a punch of lust that almost knocked him to his knees.

Darcy loved dancing and she had to admit it felt nice having someone touch her. The man she was currently dancing with was a bit too touchy, but she had learned how to defend herself if needed, thanks to her mother’s motley crew of losers.

The music filled her head and wrapped around her as her body moved to it. A tranquility settled over her, like a dream that was just a bit out of focus; real, but illusive. The calm shattered when strong fingers wrapped around her arm, and she knew before she even opened her eyes that it was Lucien. He didn’t look happy; in fact, he looked as if he wanted to murder her, slowly. Before she could object to his macho idiocy, the man she was dancing with stepped closer and puffed his chest up like a baboon.

“Hey, man, wait your turn.”

The look Lucien leveled on him could have melted steel, but the man didn’t take a hint and moved up into Lucien’s space. Without a word, Lucien pulled Darcy behind him just before the man threw a punch that landed quite solidly on his jaw.

A red haze filled Darcy’s vision and rage consumed her as Lucien’s head snapped back from the blow. She started around him, but she had no idea what she intended to do. She didn’t get far before Lucien turned his head and gave her a look that froze her in her tracks. He moved with a speed she’d never seen in him, and seconds later, the man was flat on the ground.

Lucien, it seemed, had only one thing in mind next and that was screaming at her until she was deaf. He reached for her hand and pulled her from the dance floor, dragging her across the club and down the hall to their offices. He pushed her into his, then closed and locked the door and glared at her.

She could admit to herself that his stare was very unnerving as sweat dripped down between her breasts. When he only continued to stare, she found her own temper stirring.

“What the hell is your problem?” she demanded.

“What the hell were you doing out there?” She actually felt her hair blow back from her face by the force of his bellow.

“I was dancing.”

“Dancing? No, that wasn’t dancing.”

“Oh really, so what would you call it?”

“If you want to fuck, there are more private places for you to do so. Unless, of course, you want an audience.”

Shit. He wanted to take it back as soon as it came out of his mouth. Her reaction was immediate: the color drained from her face and her eyes grew wide with hurt and then hate.

“Consider this my resignation.” She flipped him off and then strode from the room.

It took him a minute to react because he couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth. When he realized she was clear down the hall, he ran after her. “I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry, Darcy.”

Rage filled her as she turned on him and pushed him with both hands, and it was only because she caught him off guard that he slammed back into the wall.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I don’t see you for fourteen years and you call me a whore, twice! I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a whore.” She turned from him, but hadn’t gotten far when he grabbed for her and pulled her to him.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he demanded.

“I hurt you, I get it. You want payback, but you hurt me too.”

“How?” he spat.

“You believed that I went with my mother, my fucking mother. You knew what it was like for me there, but you believed without question. I didn’t show up, sure, but you didn’t even try to find out why. You knew how I felt about you. You knew what we had was real, but you never demanded to know why I didn’t come.” Darcy was surprised at the level of her pain. She had been the one in the wrong, but Lucien had been wrong too.

“You loved me, but not enough to fight for me. If it had been you who didn’t show, I would have hunted you down and forced you to tell me why to my face. You gave up without a fight.”

And then she was gone, but all Lucien could do was stand there and watch her go because his mind was still trying to understand what he had just heard.

For two days Lucien tried to make sense of Darcy’s cryptic words before he decided to visit Sister Margaret. Voluntarily, no less. Darcy regretted not meeting him that day, and had been encouraged not to by someone, but who? There was one person at St. Agnes who knew everything and saw everything: Sister Margaret, the evil bitch.

He pulled up in front of the nursing home near the West Side Highway and climbed from his car. He had called ahead as a courtesy and was surprised that visiting turned out to be fairly easy. A volunteer escorted him down the dingy hallway and for a moment he had a pang of sympathy that Sister Margaret was to spend her final days in such a hole. This thought was immediately dismissed when he heard that all too familiar screeching coming from a room clear down the corridor.

“Charming, isn’t she?” Lucien muttered, earning him a smile from the volunteer.

As soon as he saw her, a flood of memories slammed into him, none of which were good. Her beady eyes looked from the orderly she was reprimanding to him, and recognition showed on her face.

“Lucien Black. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.”

“Don’t back talk me, boy. I may be old, but you’ll show me respect.”

Lucien bit his tongue; he refused to take the bait and instead tried to suffocate her with kindness.

“You’re looking well.” For a soul-sucking demon.

“I look like shit and you damn well know it. What do you want?”

Right to the point. He had to like that about the old bird. “Do you remember Darcy MacBride?”

“The girl that thought you walked on water.”

His anger turned his voice very cold. “I thought
she
walked on water.”

Sister Margaret waved her hand in dismissal. “Whatever. So what do you want to know?”

“The day I left, someone came to see her. Do you know who?”

An odd look passed over her face before she turned her attention to the volunteer who had escorted Lucien and said, “Fetch us some iced tea, sweetened, and cookies.”

And just as regally, she dismissed both the volunteer and the orderly before looking back at Lucien. He was surprised by her request since the place really wasn’t very nice, but he knew they would bring the tea and cookies because they were afraid not to.

“Well, sit down. I’m going to get a neck cramp.”

He eyed the pillow and thought how very easy it would be to suffocate the old bitch, but then he wouldn’t learn what he had come seeking. He sat.

“A man came to St. Agnes that day, but he was a sneaky bastard. Someone let him in, so he bypassed the check-in. My guess is he didn’t want anyone to know he was there.”

“How do you know, then?”

“Darcy came to my office afterward. She didn’t go into detail, but the sight of her was heartbreaking and coming from me, you know that means something.”

“What the fuck did he say to her?”

“Do not use that language with me, boy. Did you learn nothing from Sister Anne?” She waited for the volunteer who had returned with a plate of cookies and reached for one before turning her beady eyes back on him. “But to answer your question, I don’t know.”

“And you never saw him?”

“No, I didn’t, but like I said, someone must have snuck him in.”

“Any ideas who?”

“The same girl who conveniently distracted you at the same exact time the man was visiting with Darcy.”

Realization that he and Darcy had been played was a bitter fucking pill. “Heidi.”

And then guilt quickly followed like a kick in the gut. All this time he’d blamed Darcy, but she was just a pawn, someone hurt as much if not more than he had been. Knowing how insecure Darcy had been at sixteen—to be confronted by an adult would have made her question herself. Her words from the other night were still hammering in his head because she was right. He hadn’t fought for her.

“Thanks,” was about all Lucien felt compelled to say, but the next words from Sister Margaret stopped him as he made to leave.

“I think Sister Anne would be proud to see the man you’ve become.”

Lucien was already experiencing an odd tightness in his chest thinking about Darcy and then a burning started behind his eyes as he glanced back at Sister Margaret. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

“I’ll deny I ever said that. Now get lost.”

He needed a drink, but first he needed to make a call. He waited until he was in his car before he dialed Josh.

“Hey, Lucien. Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you, but I am looking into Darcy.”

“That’s not why I’m calling. How do you feel about puzzles?”

There was humor over the line when Josh replied, “I like them. It’s part of the PI gig. Why? You got one for me?”

“Yeah, I need you to find a man who visited Darcy at St. Agnes fourteen years ago, but I’ve got next to nothing for you to go on.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

Lucien started at the beginning and told him everything he knew.

“Ember, could I have a moment?” Charles turned for his office without waiting for a response. He had just settled at his desk as Ember appeared.

“Yes?”

“Please have a seat. I asked you in here because I know of the situation with Dane Carmichael from last year and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t still bothering you.”

Ember was surprised by his question as well as the sincerity she saw in his expression.

“No, Dane hasn’t bothered me since that night.”

“Good.” Charles’s grin was both charming and contrite. “I have made a lot of mistakes in my life and have failed my family countless times. I’m trying to change that.”

Ember was speechless and a bit uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. Charles was obviously feeling it too when he hurriedly added, “That’s all I wanted to say.”

Ember had just reached the door when he said, “The woman who was here some time back, Heidi Moore, I believe she’s an acquaintance of my nephew’s. Be careful; she’s trouble.”

Ember waited until she was back at her desk before she let out a shaky breath. She had the feeling that there was more than concern coming from Charles. He was trying to tell her something, but what? Ember remembered vividly when Dane and Heidi had come to see her at Clover last year. What was their connection? Ember was going to find out.