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    Recluse: Wolfes of Manhattan Two

    Page 22
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    “It doesn’t matter how or why you remembered,” Lacey said. “It only matters that you did.”

      She was right. Roy would be okay now. The road might be dark and bumpy, but he’d be okay. And I’d be at his side.

      “In the meantime,” Lacey continued, “I guess we find this secret lower level in this building.”

      Icy bumps erupted on my arms. We sat in a building with a secret.

      A big secret.

      “First thing next week,” Rock said, “we’re bulldozing this motherfucker to the ground.”

      “We can’t,” Reid said.

      “The hell we can’t.”

      “Dad had a way in,” Reid said. “We’ll find that. My guess is he isn’t the only one who knew how to get in.”

      “Father Jim?” I asked.

      “Maybe. If Dad trusted him with that knowledge.” Reid loosened his tie.

      Why was he wearing a tie on Saturday?

      “Well,” Lacey said, “this all has to wait until after the memorial service next week. You all need that to happen to make it look like you give a shit the bastard’s dead.”

      Reid nodded. “Plus, Father Jim will be there. Give us a chance to get information out of him while he’s not on guard.”

      Roy tensed visibly at Father Jim’s name. So did I.

      “We have a week.” Roy stood, his countenance still rigid. “Then we find whatever our dead father is hiding here and put an end to this hell once and for all.” He turned to me. “Let’s go.”

      “Are we done here?” I asked Lacey.

      “Yeah. Go home. Take tomorrow for yourself. You deserve it. Next Friday is the memorial. We’ll all need our energy to get through it.”

      I took Roy’s hand that he held out to me. I guessed it was old news now. Roy and I were together.

      And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

      Back at Roy’s place, I wanted to give him something special. Show him what he meant to me. I led him into his studio to my watercolor that was still covered.

      “You don’t have to,” he said.

      “I want to. Just don’t be disappointed, okay?”

      “You could never disappoint me, silver. Never.”

      I nodded, hoping against hope he spoke honestly. I had a tiny percentage of the talent Roy had. I grasped the cloth covering but then froze.

      “You okay?” Roy asked.

      “Yeah. But I need to ask you something.”

      “Sure.”

      “Your brothers both seem to think your father might have been behind his own murder.”

      “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “They made that clear.”

      “Yet you said nothing. Do you agree with them?”

      Roy didn’t answer right away. His gaze rested on the covered watercolor. Finally, “No, I don’t agree with them. My father didn’t take his own life.”

      “I see. Why do you think that?”

      His dark eyes gazed at something intangible. “Because he was a megalomaniac, silver. Obsessed with his own power. What he could do. How he could spit in the face of the laws, of other people’s rights. In his mind, he was a god, and gods don’t kill themselves, even to screw their children over.”

      I touched his cheek. “Why don’t your brothers see that?”

      “Because they don’t know what I know. Haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”

      “But you told them all about your repressed memories.”

      “I did. But they didn’t live it. I did. And I have a glimpse inside my father that they don’t. Even Riley, as much as she went through at his hands. She never saw what I saw. What he was truly capable of. How many women were hunted, tortured, and then died for my father’s little game? For his amusement?”

      I nodded, suppressing the nausea. My stomach knotted. I wanted desperately to leave this horrible place. Didn’t want to think about what Derek Wolfe’s victims had suffered. I had to, but not now.

      Besides, Roy had said it all.

      “I’m going to be okay now,” he said. “I know it.”

      “You will be. I’ll see to it.” I braced myself and removed the cloth from my watercolor. “Please don’t hate it.

      He gazed upon my work, and a smile edged onto his lips. “You made me whole, silver. You made me whole.”

      I stood beside him and regarded my own work, tried to see it through his eyes.

      “I love it,” he said. “You gave my face a serene look. Somehow you show me relaxed in a way I’ve never been. You made me whole in this painting. And in every other way. Come here.”

      I turned into his arms and met his lips in a soft kiss.

      “I love you, Charlie,” he said.

      “I love you too, Roy. So much.” I snuggled against his hard shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

      Epilogue

      Riley

      The beauty of being my father’s daughter was that he’d taught me from a young age to be a proficient liar. I could convince anyone of anything. All I had to do was smile, flutter my eyes a little, and wiggle my ass when I walked away.

      Worked great on the runway.

      All eyes on me.

      Except when I wanted to disappear.

      My father had taught me that, as well.

      Not only could I make the marks on my skin—courtesy of the bastard—disappear, I could disappear wholly.

      Usually at his behest. This last time?

      All me.

      He was gone. Burning in the flames of hell, I hoped.

      Still he saw me. I felt his nauseating gaze on my body, his clammy touch on my flesh. That’s why I burned myself sometimes.

      After all, I’d been taught well how to hide scars.

      Sometimes, though, even burning didn’t help.

      Sometimes, I wasn’t sure anything ever would.

      Wolfes of Manhattan continues with Runaway, coming soon!

      A Note From Helen

      Dear Reader,

      Thank you for reading Recluse. If you want to find out about my current backlist and future releases, please visit my website, like my Facebook page, and join my mailing list. If you’re a fan, please join my street team to help spread the word about my books. I regularly do awesome giveaways for my street team members.

      If you enjoyed the story, please take the time to leave a review. I welcome all feedback.

      I wish you all the best!

      Helen

      Facebook

      Facebook.com/helenhardt

      Newsletter

      Helenhardt.com/signup

      Street Team

      Facebook.com/groups/hardtandsoul

      Acknowledgments

      Thank you so much to my editor, Celina Summers; my proofreader, Christie Hartman; my beta readers, Martha Frantz, Theresa Finn, Karen Aguilera, Angela Tyler, and Linda Pantlin Dunn; and my cover artist, Marci Clark. You all helped Recluse shine!

      Also By Helen Hardt

      Steel Brothers Saga:

      Trilogy One—Talon and Jade

      Craving

      Obsession

      Possession

      Trilogy Two—Jonah and Melanie

      Melt

      Burn

      Surrender

      Trilogy Three—Ryan and Ruby

      Shattered

      Twisted

      Unraveled

      Trilogy Four—Bryce and Marjorie

      Breathless

      Ravenous

      Insatiable

      Trilogy Five—Brad and Daphne (coming soon)

      Fate

      Legacy

      Descent

      Follow Me Series (coming soon):

      Follow Me Darkly

      Follow Me Under

      Follow Me Always

      Blood Bond Saga:

      Unchained

      Unhinged

      Undaunted

      Unmasked

      Undefeated

      Sex and the Season:

      Lily and the Duke

      Rose in Bloom

      Lady Alexandra’s Lover

      Sophie’s Voice

      Temptation Saga:

    &nb
    sp; Tempting Dusty

      Teasing Annie

      Taking Catie

      Taming Angelina

      Treasuring Amber

      Trusting Sydney

      Tantalizing Maria

      Standalone Novels and Novellas

      Reunited

      Misadventures:

      Misadventures of a Good Wife (with Meredith Wild)

      Misadventures with a Rockstar

      The Cougar Chronicles:

      The Cowboy and the Cougar

      Calendar Boy

      Daughters of the Prairie:

      The Outlaw’s Angel

      Lessons of the Heart

      Song of the Raven

      Collections:

      Destination Desire

      Her Two Lovers

      Non-Fiction:

      got style?

      About the Author

      #1 New York Times, #1 USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author Helen Hardt’s passion for the written word began with the books her mother read to her at bedtime. She wrote her first story at age six and hasn’t stopped since. In addition to being an award-winning author of romantic fiction, she’s a mother, an attorney, a black belt in Taekwondo, a grammar geek, an appreciator of fine red wine, and a lover of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. She writes from her home in Colorado, where she lives with her family. Helen loves to hear from readers.

      http://www.helenhardt.com

     

     

     



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