Everything She Wanted (3 page)

“We will. I promise,” Donald agreed.

Her sister and Donald walked her out to the car. Margo took Alex, hugged him close, and put him in the
car seat in the back of her car. Margo settled Alex, then kissed him on the head. “Be good for Auntie. I’ll miss you, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I promise, I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know you will. It’s just I’ve never been away from him, since he came home.”

“Go with her,” Donald suggested at the last minute.

Margo shook her head. “No. I’m staying with you and seeing you through
this ordeal.”

“That’s just it, it is an ordeal. I’ll handle it. It’s not for you to work out, but for me to do.”

Margo took Donald’s hand. “We’re a ­couple. Partners. We do things together. The fun things and the tedious.”

“I much prefer the fun we have together.” Donald hugged Margo close.

“Then Kate will take Alex, and you and I will have some fun.” The sparkle in her sister’s
eyes when she said those words made Kate blush. These two were good for each other. Margo’s fun nature balanced Donald’s seriousness. Donald gave Margo the things she’d always done without and the love she deserved.

Donald set her sister aside, leaned in, and kissed Alex goodbye.

Margo’s eyes shined brightly as she stared down at Alex in the back of Kate’s car. “I’m going to miss him so
much.” Margo leaned down and kissed Alex again, brushing her hand over his head, then tapping his little nose. “Be good, my sweet boy.”

Donald pulled Margo back and kissed her on the head. He patted Alex’s arm, closed the back door, and opened Kate’s door for her. Before Kate took her seat, he reached for her hand and held it tight. “Thank you for doing this.” He pressed hard on the key he’d
placed in her hand and whispered, “Just in case.”

Chapter Three

B
EN
K
NIGHT WALKED
into Decadence restaurant and glanced around the elegant dining room. He’d eaten here more than two dozen times with Jenna and sometimes with her and Jack, but he’d never attended one of their legendary family dinners. He always found an excuse to get out of the invitation. He didn’t do the whole family thing. And for good reason. Being around happy
families made him think back to the anger, resentment, and yes, sadness he’d lived with as a child. Right up until his mother shot his father dead.

Best day of his life.

The cops arrested his distraught mother. A lawyer who worked in conjunction with the local church and a women’s shelter stepped in, took the case pro bono, and got the murder charges dropped, proving his mother acted out
of self-­defense and a bone-­deep belief that if she didn’t shoot him, he’d kill her and Ben. The truth saved them. That lawyer understanding all his mother and he’d been through saved them. Ben never forgot that his mother and that lawyer saved him. So he became a lawyer who helped women like his mother. That’s how he met Jenna Merrick. He helped save her, and now she’d taken him into the family
fold, dismissing his wariness to fully join the group. Despite his many attempts to stay at arm’s length, she kept tugging him in.

He could only say no or come up with an excuse so many times, so this time he agreed to meet the group for dinner and Morgan Reed’s baby shower. She and her husband, Tyler, were expecting their son sometime in the next ­couple of weeks. He envied Tyler his beautiful
wife and child on the way. They seemed happy the last few times he’d met them. The whole Turner-­Shaw-­Reed family seemed to have that thing everyone wanted. A partner who loved them and the happiness that came with that elusive gift.

“Ben.” Jenna ran into his arms and hugged him close.

“Rabbit. I’ve missed you.”

“You wouldn’t miss me if you showed up even half the times I invite you
to things.”

“Point taken, which is why I’m here.” He held up the light blue bag dangling from his fingers. “For a baby shower no less.”

Jenna smiled up at him, her hands still on his chest. “You love kids.”

He couldn’t deny it. The best part about working at Haven House was getting to see the children. He organized baseball and soccer games on the weekend. He opened the place years
ago to help women like his mother, battered and in need of a safe place to hide. A place to find themselves again and start a new and better life. A safe place to bring their children, so they could play and be kids, not cower in fear every minute of their existence waiting for the next episode of violence to explode around them.

“Where’s Jack?”

“Having a beer with the guys. Come on. I’ll
lead you back into the mayhem.”

He followed her through the dining room toward the private dining area. “How’s everything at Merrick?”

“Running smoothly thanks to your cousin, Cameron.”

Funny how that worked out. He helped Jenna escape her abusive ex-­husband, she took over his company, and hired Cameron Shaw to run it as president. Then Cameron discovered he was actually George Knight’s
son. Ben’s and Cameron’s great-­great-­granddads were brothers. Cameron’s branched off to form the more successful side of the family with Knight Industries, while Ben’s side straddled the line between decency and all-­out debauchery. You can’t pick your family, but he wished he’d been born to the other side of his.

“Are you still flying in and working three days a week?” he asked, hoping
to avoid another lengthy conversation about his background compared to the one George Knight had provided his family and left most of that wealth to Cameron.

“Most weeks. You know how much I’d rather be with Jack and the kids on the ranch in Colorado.”

“I can’t blame you. That place suits Jack. He always liked his solitude.”

“With three kids, the twin boys most especially, he only
gets his quiet time when he’s out working with the horses.”

“The boys giving him a run for his money?”

“Of course, but it’s Willow who has him wrapped around her little finger. He can’t say no to her.”

“Men have a hard time saying no to any of the women in their lives, but I imagine it’s especially difficult to do with their daughters.”

“Is there a woman in your life you can’t
say no to?”

Ben tapped his elbow to Jenna’s arm. “As always, only you, Rabbit.”

“You say no to me all the time.” Jenna pouted.

“Only because you married Jack and not me.” Ben gave her a fake frown. Jenna and Jack were beyond happy. That’s what he wanted for his two good friends.

“Your loss, man.” Jack smacked him on the shoulder when he walked into the back room. “You sent her
to me. I kept her.”

Ben accepted the beer from Jack as well as the handshake.

“How about you return the favor and send me a girl as great as her.” If there was a girl out there as great as the women his friends had found, he sure as hell hadn’t met her.

“You’ll meet her tonight.” Morgan stepped close and kissed him on the cheek. “Jack isn’t sending her to you, but she’s yours. You’ve
met her before. You liked her.” Morgan studied him. “She’s tough. Difficult to read. She likes you, but doesn’t want you to know it. You didn’t see it before, but this time you’ll look closer. She needs your help.”

Ben stared at Morgan unable to speak. They all knew about her special gift, but he’d never actually seen her make a prediction about something, let alone be the target of that prediction.

“Don’t sweat it, Ben. She does this all the time. You’ll get used to it,” Tyler said, wrapping his arm around his wife and holding his hand out to shake Ben’s.

“Uh, so I’m supposed to meet her tonight? Here?”

“No. When you leave. She’s worried. Has reason to be. A force is pushing the man to do things he doesn’t necessarily want to do. She’ll get in his way. She has a desperate need
to protect what is hers. She’ll give her life to do it. You want to see this man go down. You’ve gone up against him before and lost. You hate to lose.”

Ben smiled. “Yes, I do.”

“The truth is in the details. Things aren’t always what they seem,” Morgan said. “It’s kind of a jumble right now, but she’ll sort it out, or die trying. You’ll stack the odds in her favor.”

Ben went along,
not really believing the woman of his dreams was out there, let alone about to walk into his life. Tonight.

“She walked into your life months ago, but you let her go after you shared a moment.” Morgan shook her head. He could almost hear the
tsk, tsk
.

Ben opened his mouth but closed it when he didn’t know what to say to her reading his mind.

“Eventually you’ll get used to it,” Tyler
assured him. “Listen to her, Ben. She knows what she’s talking about.”

If he’d shared a moment with a woman in the last months, he couldn’t remember it. “Anything else I should know?” he asked, paying closer attention, unable to deny her prediction intrigued him at the very least. The thought of finding the woman destined for him seemed more fantasy than reality, but wouldn’t it be nice to
have what his friends had found?

“The things we have to work for are often the things that bring us the most joy and satisfaction.”

“Nothing is ever easy. Don’t I know it?”

“Well, if it was easy, what fun would that be? You men love the chase. You helped Jenna take her life back. You help the women at the shelter do the same thing. This woman needs more than that from you.”

“What
if I can’t give her what she needs?”

“You can. You both want the same thing, but neither of you wants to admit it, because you don’t think it will ever exist for you.

“The question isn’t can you give her what she needs, but will you take a leap of faith and believe in her. Not in what she says, but in what you know to be true about her.”

“I don’t even know her.”

“You will. Trust
me.”

“The last time someone said that to me, Jack stole my girl.”

Morgan laughed, so did the others because it was an old joke. Jenna was never really his. Once she met Jack, Ben never had a shot.

“That was meant to be,” Morgan said. “This is meant to be.”

“So is dinner,” Jenna announced. “Elizabeth and the waiters just arrived with the food. I’m starving. Come on, let’s take our
seats.”

Ben landed beside Sam with Cameron and his wife, Marti, on his other side. Their youngest, Camille, beside Marti. He glanced at all the faces around the table. Jenna’s twin boys, Matt and Sam, sat with Cameron’s daughter, Emma, across from him. Willow sat in her high chair next to Jack. Elizabeth’s children, Grace and J.T., sat between her and Sam. So many young ones between the ­couples.

He stared at the head of the table where Morgan sat, round and beautiful in her pregnancy. Tyler sat beside her, saying something to his wife that made her smile. Tyler reached over and set his hand on Morgan’s round belly, rubbing the baby bump with a huge smile on his face. Everyone knew they were having a son. Ben had even written “Noah” on the card. He wondered if Morgan knew exactly what
day she’d give birth.

Her gaze met his and she gave him a mysterious smile. He shook his head and smiled back.

Sam’s son, J.T., got bored jumping up and down on Sam’s lap and leaped into his. Ben caught the toddler under the arms to balance him, then lifted him up and above his head like an airplane.

“I fly.”

“Yes, you do, little man. Play with Uncle Ben for a while and give your
old dad a break.”

The “Uncle” warmed Ben’s heart. He loved hanging out with these guys. They treated him like family. “Old dad? You’re the same age as me,” Ben said.

“And I’ve got two kids. You need to catch up, man.”

“You guys took all the great women, so I’m left alone and envious, playing with your kids.” Ben brought J.T. down to his chest, hugged him close, then tickled his sides,
making him squirm and laugh.

“Stop, Uncle Ben.”

Ben settled J.T. in his lap and handed him a slice of apple from the bowl the waiter set in front of him for J.T.

Sam leaned back and eyed him. “So, you’re ready to settle down?”

“I have no objections to a less empty bed.”

Sam laughed. “No man objects to that.”

Ben thought of the mysterious woman about to come into his life
tonight.

If he found her, would he have it in him to hold on to her?

Time to put up or shut up. If he wanted more in his life, he’d have to hold on. Now all he had to do was find the woman meant for him.

Chapter Four

M
ULTIMILLION-­D
OLLAR HOMES SPOKE
to the wealth of the ­people who lived in the Los Altos Hills. Their children went to the best schools and wanted for nothing. He was one of those children, and he’d be damned before he lost all this to some bitch his father fucked.

The street was quiet. But wouldn’t be for long with afternoon turning to evening. Evan had sat outside
houses during the day, watching, noting what time the gardeners arrived and left along with the cleaning crews who kept these houses immaculately groomed and spotlessly clean. He might be reckless in his life, but not when it came to breaking into a house to supplement his income when his father grew stingy or cut him off for a few weeks. No one suspected the robber was one of them. The elite.
Just because he didn’t want a job didn’t mean he was fucking stupid. He’d made good grades throughout school. But school hadn’t been about learning for him. No, he enjoyed the social aspect. He’d partied hard in college, but always passed his classes. So he could stay and party. Good grades also kept the money from his father coming. Now, nothing would make his father pay up.

Evan slammed
his hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck. What did you do, Mom?”

He didn’t know, and she probably wouldn’t give up that particular secret at this point. She did so love her little secrets and intrigues she played with his father. Too bad his father didn’t fall for that shit anymore, which apparently made his mother do something to royally piss him off.

The house sat on the right side of a
cul-­de-­sac, the property large enough to encompass half the circle. Bigger than his parents’ home. With only four houses on the block, the houses set back from the street behind gates and mostly concealed by gardens and trees, he had the perfect cover. No one would notice his vehicle parked on the street. If they did, they’d think him a guest at one of the other properties. He parked so it wasn’t
obvious which house he was visiting, grabbed his gloves and mask from the backseat, and pulled the gun he kept tucked under the driver’s seat out for those occasions he needed to show force to get someone to back off after a bad night gambling or a fight. He stood beside the car, tucked the gun at his back in the waistband of his pants, and covered it with his shirt. He slipped out of the car and
walked up the drive like he had a right to be there. He ducked behind some bushes, pulled on the gloves and mask, tugged the gun from his waistband, and held it in his grasp. The weight of it made what he was about to do all the more real. He thought of the meager allowance his father was about to impose on him and what that meant to his life and pushed through the dense foliage and onto the property
ready to see this through to the end.

He avoided the front windows and went around the back of the house. He cautiously walked across the patio to the back door. He tried the handle and pushed the door open. So easy. Too easy?

His heart raced. Hyped up, Scotch roiling in his gut, he walked into the house, entering through the dining room. White roses and lilies in a dark blue vase sat
on the table. Their sweet scent filled the open space. He stopped and stared at the elegant home. Bright, cheerful, colorful with touches of blue, green, and lavender to offset the white walls, rustic wood beams running across the ceiling, and neutral furnishings. He actually liked it compared to his mother’s drab autumn-­colored home. That place always felt closed in and sad. This place seemed cheerful,
and it pissed him off.

The door to the study stood open across the room. His father stood with his back to him, reading some papers. He paced, head down, eyes on the documents.

A cold sweat broke out over Evan’s skin. Nerves tightened and soured his gut, but he didn’t change his mind.

His father gave some bitch this nice house, and now she’d get everything else if Evan didn’t do this
now. He needed to find the woman. He walked away from the living room area toward what he suspected was the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, stunned by the beautiful woman in front of him. He expected her to be older, like his mother. Instead, she had to be in her early thirties. Not that much older than him. Long blond hair hung down to the middle of her back in soft waves. She wore a pair of
white slacks and a soft blue top with sleeves that went to her elbows. She sliced an apple into wedges and added pieces to the two plates in front of her. She’d prepared a light dinner. A bowl of creamy soup and turkey sandwiches piled high with red onion and leafy green lettuce. Nice.

Fucking bitch.

He saw what was going on. This woman manipulated his father, fucked him into believing
someone as young and pretty as her loved him. She slept with him, made him dinner they’d eat together on the sofa in their cozy living room, pretending to be happy and in love when all she fucking wanted was his father’s money. She’d convinced his father to leave his mother. She caused this, and his father fell for it, cutting him and his mother off.

Evan held the gun to her back, right between
her shoulders. “Don’t move.”

He expected her to go still. Instead, she flipped the knife in her hand, shifted sideways away from the gun, and swung the knife down at the same time. He shifted at the last second to avoid the sharp blade. The knife missed plunging into his thigh and skimmed along the outer edge, slicing a long gash that hurt like fucking hell.

“You bitch!”

He reached
for her with his left hand before she got away, but she turned and punched him in the jaw. His head snapped back. She had a good jab. He worked his jaw to ease the sting, swung the gun, and clocked her on the side of the head, making her stumble, but not fall. She kept fighting, screaming out, “Donald,” when he grabbed her by the neck and slammed her back against the counter, toppling the plate and
soup bowls. She held on to his hand at her throat, her hazel eyes wide with shock.

“Be still.”

“Fuck off.” She slammed her foot down on his and brought both hands up, then crashed them down on his arm. He had no choice but to let her go when the pain shot up his arm and down his hand.

She leaned back against the counter, planted her foot in his gut, and tried to push him away, but
he moved faster, twisting to the side, turning, and grabbing her around the neck, her back to his chest. He dug the barrel of the gun into her temple and shook her to get her attention.

“Don’t. Move.”

“Evan, stop,” his father said from the doorway.

With the mask over his head and face, he didn’t think his father would recognize him. He held perfectly still, waiting to see what his
father would do.

“I know it’s you. Your mother and I gave you that watch when you graduated college.”

Evan glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist, then the gun in his hand. He’d hoped his father wouldn’t know it was him. Too late to do anything about it now, he needed to either finish this, or get away.

“Don’t do this. She didn’t do anything to you. I know you’re upset. Put the gun
down and let’s talk about it.”

His rage surged. “She ruined everything.”

“No. That’s not true. Your mother is responsible for her actions and the lies she told.”

“You never cared what she did. Now, because of her”—­he shook the blonde he held in a choke hold, her nails digging into his arm—­“you want to toss us aside.”

“I want nothing to do with your mother, but you and I can still
have a relationship.”

“You cut me off.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ll pay to keep a roof over your head, but it’s time you stood on your own two feet and made a living at whatever you want to do with your life besides drinking, gambling, and fighting your days away. You’re smart. You graduated college without ever really having to try. All I’m asking is that you grow up and take some responsibility
for your choices.

“Things don’t have to end this way. If you do this, if you kill her, your life will be over. You don’t want that.”

“My life won’t be over. It’ll be better. Without her. Without you.” Evan slowly lowered the gun from the woman’s head and extended his arm, pointing the gun directly at his father. “Murder-­suicide. She kills you after you fight here in the kitchen.” He made
a point of looking at the mess around them from his fight with the bitch. “She kills you, then herself.”

His father held up both hands and pleaded, “Don’t do this, Evan. Please.”

“It’s the only way.” He believed that now. When he arrived, he wasn’t so sure. But after this, seeing the way his father looked at the woman and pleaded for her life, his father would have him arrested. He’d cut
him off for sure. He’d leave him to rot in a cell.

“I love you, Donald. I love you so much.”

Evan squeezed her neck and shook her again. “Shut up.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Be still. It’s okay.” He took a step closer, his hands still up in front of him. “Evan, please, we can work this out. No one needs to know about this. I’ll give you whatever money you want. Please, don’t hurt
her.”

Evan vibrated from the inside out with the rage overtaking the last glimmer of indecision in his heart. “You lie.”

Evan fired. Blood spread across his father’s chest over his heart. His eyes went wide with shock and surprise, then blank as he dropped to his knees and fell forward onto the floor. A red pool of blood oozed out from underneath his father’s body and spread across the
tiles. The crimson color vivid against the white marble. His father’s body tensed, then went lax.

The woman screamed. The sharp sound pierced his eardrums and made his ears ring. She struggled to get free and run to his father’s dead body. She jerked against his arm and body, bringing him out of his shock. She kicked at his leg and scratched at his arm. He held her to the side, put the gun
to her head, and fired. The side of her head exploded, blood and brains splattering against the refrigerator and cabinets. A gruesome splotch of red against the wood and stainless steel. He released her. Her body dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. Her head lay only two feet from his father’s, their hands outstretched, fingertips nearly touching.

The gun hung at his side, his hand
numb of the weight. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. He stood frozen, staring down at what he’d done, wondering what to do now. He thought he’d feel happy or relieved. Maybe remorse. Something. But he didn’t feel anything. In fact, he couldn’t believe he’d done it.

He quickly scanned the kitchen and the two bodies. Everything looked exactly as it should for the cops to see what he wanted them to
see. There’d been a scuffle, she shot his father in the chest, then turned the gun on herself. He kneeled beside her, sucking back a hiss of pain. The cut along the outside of his thigh bled profusely, soaking his black pants down to his ankle. The intense, throbbing pain became a part of him, but he ignored it. He needed to be quick and get the hell out of there in case someone heard the shots and
called the cops.

His hand shook when he reached for the woman’s hand. He didn’t touch her, but stared at his shaking hand hovering over hers with blood splattered over his glove. The need to run overtook him, but he held it together. He picked up her hand, put the gun in it with her finger on the trigger, turned her hand and pressed the back to his glove to transfer the blood and gunshot residue—­thank
you to every CSI show he’d ever seen. He scraped her hand on the floor to smear the blood, so it looked like that’s how her hand landed, the gun slipping from her grasp to lie just out of reach.

The metallic scent of blood filled the air as well as the pungent smell of gunfire. He stood and took a few steps away from the bodies, staring until his eyes watered. He blinked to clear his vision,
then turned and walked back to the patio doors. The sunset painted the sky in pinks, oranges, and purples. The pleasant scene didn’t erase the bright red blood in his mind. He sucked in a deep breath of the cool fresh air and sighed it out. He tore the mask from his head and walked around the house to the front, keeping to the trees and bushes for cover. He went back past the gate and down the
street to his car. He bit back the pain and walked as normal as he could on his bad leg. Every step pulled at the cut and made it bleed more. The last thing he wanted was some nosy neighbor saying they saw some guy limping down the street.

He opened his car door and slid behind the wheel. His hands still shook, even when he grabbed the wheel and held on tight. The shiver rippled over and through
him.

He’d left his cell phone in between the seats in the console. It beeped with four missed calls. He reached for it, jumping when it rang a split second before he picked it up.

“Evan, honey, what’s going on?” his mother asked, panic and desperation in her voice.

He choked out only one thing before he hung up. “It’s done.”

E
VAN TOSSED HI
S
bloodied shirt into the fireplace behind
him. The chill that took over his body the moment he’d gotten into his car and drove to his parents’ place went bone-­deep. Even the fire’s heat didn’t penetrate to his altered soul. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t tell his father how sorry he was it ended this way.

“You had no choice. We had no other way to solve this problem. Now, it’s done. We’ll get through this and everything will
be ours. It will be okay.” The tremor and the trace of disbelief in her voice sank into his mind and made him doubt too.

How could anything be right again?

The man he beat to death left a black mark on his soul, but not like killing the woman and especially his father did. The man’s death had been an unfortunate accident. Sometimes, he didn’t know his own strength, especially when he was
blind drunk. Tonight, he’d known exactly what he was doing.

The shirt turned to ashes. He tossed in his bloody pants, smothering the flames for a moment before they flared back to life and consumed the bloody slacks. Would the nightmare in his mind consume every bit of happiness from his life from now on?

“Once we get through the next few weeks, everything will get back to normal.”

Normal? He didn’t know what normal was anymore.