Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(65)

We haven’t talked much in the three days since Leo’s been gone, but every night, as she crawls into bed, she slides up beside me, holding me closer than ever before. I try to give her space to grieve, but it’s killing me to watch. So the moments when she leans on me mean the world.

The minute Leo left, I locked the file he gave me away in the fireproof safe. I am the only person who has the combination, but it still needs to be housed somewhere else for safekeeping. Should anything happen to me—or, God forbid, Erica—I want there to be undeniable proof about where to point the finger. Today, I’m scanning it and emailing a copy to the only person I trust not to read it, Jimmy Douglas.

While Erica is lying on the couch in the rec room, mindlessly staring at some TV show that I know she has absolutely no interest in watching, I head to the office to send it out. I have no idea what’s inside. I only know that Leo told me that he’d documented his time with Erica. Before now, I had no intention of actually taking the time to read it, but seeing her name on the very first page changes my mind completely.

For over an hour, I scour through Leo’s notes from when he was working undercover with Rodriguez. Not having a strong firsthand knowledge of the underbellies of the drug world, I just assumed these guys were big-time dealers with even bigger connections. But to read Leo telling it, they are hardcore, whatever-it-takes murderers as well. They thrive on innocent lives to get them ahead and have no compunction in taking them out when their services are no longer required. Case in point—Erica.

I read through his notes, engrossed in the world he embraced as Marcus Torres. I told Erica I would never ask, and this is probably the roundabout way of breaking that promise, but I can’t stop my hands from turning the pages. Then I read the one sentence I wish I could unsee. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t erase the words written in Leo’s handwriting scrawled across the page.





"What the f*ck!" I shout, jumping away from the paper and shooting to my feet.

My mind whirls while I try to regain control. I knew he was there the night everything happened. He killed three men to rescue her, but what the f*cking hell is this about him standing guard? Why in all my conversations with Erica and Leo has this topic never been broached? The only thing I can figure is that they are both hiding from the facts. My blood boils, but I know I have to finish. It’s obvious I’m missing quite a few of the details from that night.

For the next three hours, I read every single letter of the notes he has taken over the almost four years they have been on the run together. I wasn’t prepared for this. Erica’s life hasn’t just been stressful; it’s been damn near unimaginable at points. And now that I know the truth, her undeniable attachment to Leo is disturbing to say the least. However, as I turn page after page, it’s the very last paragraph that renders me completely speechless.





Oh God. What the hell is Leo up to? What drastic measure could he be taking to save her? I remember our conversation when he told me that Wilkes was searching for him and not Erica, and my stomach churns as I fear where he has gone. It never seemed right that Leo would just leave her unless he was planning to give himself up and set her free once and for all. Shit. What the f*ck did he do?

I can’t tell Erica about this. She’s already having a tough time with him being gone, but this little hypothesis I have now would destroy her. I quickly decide to give it a week before bringing this up to her. Who knows? I could be completely off the mark here. Leo could come prancing back in with a tan from vacation tomorrow. But I have a sick feeling in my gut that I’m right about this one.





"Erica," I call down the hall when I get out of the shower.

"In here," she says from the security room.

Before Leo left, I can’t remember her ever going in there, but now, she spends almost every night staring at the monitors. I can’t tell if she’s afraid someone will break in without him or if she’s just waiting for him to come home.

"Beautiful, you have to stop leaving this window open!" I tell her for the third time in three days.

"I need the air. I can’t breathe stuck in this apartment all the time. I need to get out of here, Slate. I haven’t been outside in weeks."

"It’s not safe, Erica. Open the windows on the far side. These connect to the breezeway, and Johnson is going to have a stroke if he finds it open. You want to go out on the balcony?"

"What?" she says, shocked and immediately excited. "Leo was worried they would take pictures of me."

Shit. I didn’t think about that.

"Yeah. He was probably right," I say, feeling like an ass as her face deflates. "Okay, how about this? What if I call the building and privately rent out the roof for the entire night. Johnson could clear it and block it off. I’ll bring up some chairs and we can just lie out under the stars for as long as you want."

Her smile immediately returns, bigger than I’ve seen in days. "Oh God, Slate. That sounds amazing."

"I’ll order some food too. Go get dressed. As soon as the sun goes down, we’ll go up." I pull her in for a kiss, taking full advantage of her sudden good mood.

Three hours later, we lie on a blanket on the building’s empty roof. We brought up chairs but quickly moved to the ground so we could be closer. Our legs are tangled together and she is squeezed tight against my side, using my chest as a pillow.