“That’s what Ana was told he’d requested in his will. But am I sure? I’m not sure of anything right now. I need to know who was with Kurt the day he died. Because whoever that is knows more about Kurt than even his own daughter.” I scrub my jaw and step off the treadmill as something hits me. “Jake kept logs of the jobs he did on some online program he used on his phone. He was meticulous about it.”
“I’ll dig. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.” He disconnects.
I walk into the bedroom and sit down on the edge of the mattress before I lay back, staring at the ceiling. The day those ashes came in, Ana had melted down. Two days later, we’d driven to the great divide, a place fitting for a man who’d sat on top of the world most of his life, and dropped his ashes. I’d held Ana and she’d quaked in my arms. I didn’t think she was going to stop crying.
She hurt that day. She still hurts over his loss to this day. If he’s not dead, he’s behind all of this somehow. He’s the reason Ana is on a hit list. I’ll find him and I swear to God, I’ll kill everyone connected to this to protect Ana. Even him. I’ll give him about thirty seconds to explain himself and make me understand, but I will not hesitate. I’d rather Ana hate me for life than see her dead. And that’s where this is headed, with her dead. I can feel it in my bones. And the only way I’ve ever learned to survive the bad shit is to embrace it.
Chapter Twenty
Ana
I’m pacing in my room again, as angry as I am hurt over what I overheard between Luke and Adam. Angry at myself for not stopping him when he left the room. Angry at myself for not telling him I love him, too, in that shower. I set that whole situation aside as I stewed over Kurt, but Kurt is dead and thankfully, Luke is not and I have yet to say all the things to him I need to say.
And I’m also angry at him for suggesting he has to leave again. He told me he won’t do that to me or us. I halt and decide I need to end this back and forth. I can’t promise I won’t struggle over Kasey, but I’d rather struggle with him than without him. I need to end this back and forth between me and Luke right now. He is in this or he is out. It can’t change every time we fight, because right now, we are going to fight. I don’t care if Adam comes along for the ride, but when we’re done coming to blows, we are done.
This has to end.
Decision made, I rotate and stalk toward the door, hurrying back down the stairs, but when I arrive in the living room, he’s gone and Adam is alone. I screech to a halt, curling my fingers in my palms and willing myself down a notch. Not an easy process, especially when some part of me really needs to see Luke right now. Just see him, just know he’s still here, he’s still alive and well, and ready for whatever comes next. I huff out a breath and press my hands to my face. When I drop my hands, Adam is glancing over his shoulder at me. He pats the couch. “Come talk to me.”
“Where is he?”
“Downstairs running on the treadmill. You might want to let him run off that steam before you go to war. You’ll have a better chance of winning. Come talk to me.” He indicates the beer on the table. “You can finish that off for him.”
Luke’s a physical person, which is part of why sex with him is always so intense. He’s all in or nothing. I want all in, right now, even if it requires a battle, but Adam’s watching me, willing me to join him, as if he has something to say. The man is fighting and risking his life for me. I can’t deny his request. I could, but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I know Luke is here. I know he’s one level down. He didn’t leave. That’s enough for now.
Reluctantly, I accept his suggestion and join him, but I ignore the beer, my fingers curling on the cushions of the couch. “I love him.” I glance over at Adam. “I don’t blame him for what happened to Kasey, but I never got the chance to fully deal with it, either. He left. How is it fair that I never got the chance to even be angry with him? Could he not just stay for me and bear the brunt of that anger and pain? Was that too much to ask?” I cut my gaze. “Sorry. Sorry. You don’t even know me.”