The Espionage Effect(70)
“So soon?”
“It connects to something Escobar said at the party. He wants me at his house tomorrow night. I’ve got a gut feeling about those stock shorts.”
“Oh.” Stock shorts were what the terrorists of 9/11 had done. They’d physically attacked while they’d financially attacked, a one-two strike at the heart of their victims.
Bored with staring at a screen that held no further new information, my gaze drifted to the right. An antique map-desk lined the wall behind him, its shallow depth but long width stretching to the room’s back corner. Across the top, burled walnut had been polished to a high sheen, the center inlaid with a detailed compass rose, its faceted precise angles shaded in dark mahogany and highlighted with swirling bird’s-eye maple. A solitary object on its surface angled toward Alec’s desk: a picture frame whose glass faced the ocean and the world beyond.
I picked up the heavy frame, careful not to mar the flat polished silver sides with fingerprints. Its edges had tarnished into a beautiful smoky patina, but it was the aged picture behind the protective glass that most captivated me.
A younger version of Alec stared into the camera lens, pure joy radiating from his bright eyes and wide smile. His arms were wrapped around a young woman with long, dark, wavy hair. His parents, without doubt.
“Do you remember their love?” An odd question, even to my ears, but I needed to know.
He didn’t reply right away, only briefly paused, then continued typing.
I didn’t release the photograph. Didn’t turn around. Entranced to a level I couldn’t resist or deny, I remained rooted to the spot on his bamboo office floor, clinging to a fragment of someone else’s joyous life, stuck in my admiration for those who’d been able to defy the choking darkness of the world for its breath of light.
The keyboard clicking ended entirely. But I barely noticed.
My heart pounded in my ears as I gripped the frame, thumbs slipped into place on the perfect silver surface. My fingerprints might as well have marred the perfect picture. Its image marked me. Indelibly.
How had one two-dimensional image branded my heart so fast?
On a shaky exhale, it hit me. It hadn’t. The delicate aging photograph hadn’t been the one thing, it had been the last thing, the proverbial straw on the camel’s back—the catalyst to the fractures spider-webbing through an armored fa?ade I’d so carefully constructed finally shattering apart, blowing to dust the once impenetrable fortress walls I’d imprisoned myself within.
“I remember.” His voice slid over my senses, warm and soft. His heat came up behind me, wrapping around me as his strong hands ran down my arms, then covered my hands as they still clutched the frame.
For the first time in my life, I finally stood without my armor. Terrified, yet convinced I needed to take the leap of faith even if I died from the fall, I leaned back into his strength.
And he held me. As I began to shake, gripped the frame tighter for fear of dropping it, he simply held me.
“Their laughter is the greatest memory; I can still hear its echo in my head, feel its presence in the middle of the night.”
An aching pang thumped from behind my ribcage. That he would be lonely in the darkness too, seek the memory of what he’d once had to lull him to sleep.
I’d done the opposite. “I can’t remember mine.” My voice croaked. Hands trembling uncontrollably, I clattered the bottom metal corners of the frame down onto the perfectly polished surface before I dropped it. “Their love, I mean.” I sucked in a ragged breath as my arms drew against my middle. I hugged myself, trying to hold in the pain that I’d never let myself feel.
His arms followed, covering mine. A cramp burned at the base of my throat, and I closed my eyes, pinching back hot tears, afraid of losing myself to the scathing onslaught of feelings. As my breathing grew shallow, Alec tightened his hold, wordlessly providing his protection from the unseen threat.
“I don’t know what happened.” My voice sounded hollow to my ears. “When she vanished, the love stopped. All of it. Anger and hate hardened my parents. Hardened me.”
His head dropped down and his lips brushed over my ear. “Your love is still there. Underneath your shell, deep underneath the bulletproof plating you welded into place to protect yourself; it’s there.”
Certain I’d misheard him in the surreal moment, I tensed, then stood straighter, testing his words, letting them wash over me, through me. And the moment I shifted, the unyielding cage of muscle and protection he’d clamped down around me gave way enough for me to find my own balance. But he didn’t let go.
I turned within his embrace, slid my hands up his chest, and lifted my gaze until I opened my eyes and stared up into the dark penetrating depths of his. “How can you be so sure?”
Alec and I hadn’t shared love. We’d had sex. I hadn’t loved anyone since I loved my sister, since the love from my parents had been ripped away the night she’d been stolen from my bedroom a lifetime ago.
His intense gaze held mine, unwavering. “I know.”
He said nothing more, only stared fiercely into my eyes. Like the explanation didn’t matter. Like I could divine the meaning if I looked hard enough, delved deep enough. And maybe I could. He’d also barricaded himself in a prison of his own making. We’d both become survivors in the harsh battlefield of life, cast alone far too young. Neither of us allowing anyone too close.