Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“You never told me about Denver’s existence.” She tips her head. “You changed your name. Never told me that, either. So we don’t know if or how you’re involved in our abductions.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m speaking.” She shoots me a stern glare with tired eyes. “Before we tell you anything about Denver, you need to give us something. Explain the secrecy. Convince us of your innocence.”
I’ve been on trial since the moment I walked in here.
If I want to earn back her trust, I’ll have to open myself up, show her the vulnerabilities I’ve kept hidden behind walls of pride and pretense since the day I met her.
She deserves to see the real me, flaws and all, to decide for herself if the man I’ve become is someone she can love again.
“I’ll start at the beginning.” Slipping my damp hands into my pockets, I pace at the foot of her bed. “I told you my parents were Russian oligarchs. But I didn’t tell you they fled to America in fear for their lives.”
I walk through the history of my family, explaining their legacy of shadow and wealth, my father’s construction company, and how he used it as a cover for our family’s vast, illicit fortunes in offshore accounts.
“The cabin.” Leo shares a look with Frankie and Kody, confirming my suspicion about what they’ve been living in.
If only I knew where.
“The cabin…” I rub the tense muscles in my nape. “A few months ago, in my search for Frankie, I found blueprints hidden in a wall in my childhood home. Blueprints for an off-grid, two-story log cabin. No location. But I’m certain my father was the architect and funded the project, and Denver designed a hydroelectric generator for it. Was that built as well?”
Leo nods, his expression grim.
“When my parents fled Russia, they constructed an estate in Port Lions on Kodiak Island. That’s where Denver and I grew up.” I meet Kody’s eyes. “And Kaya Knowles. Her mother was our live-in maid.”
I wear a path on the floor as I give voice to my painful memories of Kaya, describing the crush that Denver and I had on her, the rivalry, the age differences, and my father’s threats to stay away.
“Denver molested her when she was eight.” I pause, raking a hand through my hair. “He was ten. Too young to be held accountable. But what he did to her…”
I look at Kody, silently questioning.
A sharp shake of his head indicates he doesn’t want to know.
I release a sigh of relief.
The details are too horrifying to fathom. And sodomizing Kaya Knowles with a blunt object was only the beginning of Denver’s reign of terror.
“He went on to molest other children on the island, tying them up in the many caves on our expansive property, tormenting them, and…” My breathing becomes heavy and labored. I scrape a hand over my mouth. “By the time he was eighteen, he was hunting and sexually assaulting children beyond the island in nearby coastal towns.”
“How did he not get caught?” Frankie’s voice trembles into fragmented whispers. “Did you know he was—?”
“No. Christ, I was a child myself through most of it. I’m only a year older than Denver. My parents kept this from me and paid off the families of the victims. But Kaya…she had no family.” I step to Kody’s bed, grip the footboard for support, and meet his dark gaze. “Kaya’s mother died of a heart condition around the time the abuse started. I don’t have proof, but knowing what I know now about the lengths my father went to protect Denver, I think Kaya’s mother refused to be paid off like the other families.”
“Your father killed her.” Kody’s jaw clenches.
“He had assassins on his payroll.” I drum my fingers on the bed rail. “After she died, my father adopted Kaya into our family and raised her like his own. I went away to college, but when I was nineteen, I came home for winter break. Kaya was sixteen at the time. We stole some of my father’s wine and sneaked to the beach to drink it, as kids do. That’s when she told me.” A swallow sticks in my throat. “Denver abused her for years without my knowledge. When she became too old for his tastes, he went on to abuse others. She reported all of it to my father, and he handled it the way he handled everything—hush money, blackmail, and when all else fails, he called in a hitman.”
In the charged silence that follows, Melanie’s presence is a reminder of the legal nightmare I’ll be facing in the days and months ahead.
I should have my own attorneys present to protect my ass, but I’m risking it. I’m risking it all because nothing matters but my wife.
“I couldn’t face Denver. Couldn’t look at him.” My stomach buckles with the memory. “But I confronted my father that night.”