Page 54 of Savior

I was wound up.

The entire time I’d been going about it the wrong way. I’d been looking for my husband the way any law-abiding citizen would. I’d relied heavily on the authorities, convinced that they were making my case a top priority.

Instead, I needed to be thinking like Jamie.

I squeezed Comedian’s hand in mine while wrapping the gun up in my skirt with the other, keeping it safely hidden as I stood up. “Do you need anything before I go in?”

“Nah.” He held up the pack of cigarettes. “I got everything I need. You get some rest, Celia. Things’ll be better tomorrow.”

They most certainly would.

“Thank you for watching over me… for believing in Jamie.” I sighed. “All of it.”

He lowered his head with a nod. “Sweet dreams, Celia.”

I closed the heavy wooden door behind me and locked it before softly calling out, “It’s just me.”

The bedroom door opened, and Kate crept down the hall slowly, hands wrapped around the base of a curling iron. “You’re sure it’s safe?” She whispered.

I nodded and pointed to her weapon. “Katydid, what are you planning on doing with that?”

“You know, if they got close, I’d just… I’d just hit them on the head.” She swallowed nervously. “Does anyone know I’m here?”

“No, and they won’t.”

Kate lowered the curling iron and padded lightly across the hardwood toward the kitchen. “Who was it?”

“Comedian.” At the mention of his name, she shuddered. “What? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “It’s just… it’s stupid, really. In the cemetery, Mike was convinced that Comedian was behind it all, and his argument made sense. Now, I feel like everyone’s changed their minds, but I don’t understand how.”

“Simple. There was no evidence to back up his claims. Comedian was with other members of the club when your father was shot, and right now, it seems that he’s our only ally within the club. Bear seems to think your father was behind your grandparent’s disappearance.”

I was giving her the watered-down version of the club’s actions and didn’t know why. Bear didn’t deserve my loyalty after the things he’d accused Jamie of doing. Maybe I was just exhausted at the idea of having to rehash every twisted theory that the club had come up with.

Kate didn’t need to know everything her father stood accused of. She was going through her own battles; I’d known it since the night she’d shown up on my doorstep, completely out of sorts. Until she decided to open up to me, I could only speculate as to what had happened.

Instead of immediately disagreeing with the idea that her father could’ve kidnapped anyone, she nodded to herself before climbing up onto one of the barstools. “Mom, it makes sense. You have to see that. When Nan and Pops showed up at Dakota’s wedding, I could’ve sworn he was going to kill them. Think about it. We’ve all remained perfectly safe, but two of my father’s enemies suddenly disappear? It’s telling.”

I tucked my lower lip between my teeth, holding back my words for a moment. How was I supposed to convince the girl who’d grown up without her father that he wouldn’t have left us voluntarily?

Not again.

“What do you think?” she asked, crossing one leg over the other.

“I think I want you to tell me why you’re really here. What are you running from, baby girl?”

She slipped off the stool and moved around the island, avoiding my gaze. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

“Kate,” I tried again. “What happened? One minute, your marriage is fine, and the next, you’re crying at my front door. I thought you and Nate were happy.”

She filled the kettle and placed it on the stove before answering. “You have enough going on without me piling—”

I shook my head. “Stop. You could’ve gone anywhere, but you came here. Why?”

“Because…” The first tear fell, and she brushed at it angrily, keeping her eyes on the counter. “Because I found out it was all a façade. For months, I’ve felt this disconnect between us—like, we were living together, but we weren’t together, you know? It’s as if we’ve been operating on two separate planes since Dakota’s wedding.”

“Every marriage goes through—”

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