Ultimate Surrender (10 page)

And when Lucian locked eyes with her and then thrust so hard the air left her lungs, she wondered how she’d ever do without him.

T
he next morning
she woke and immediately reached for Lucian, and was happy to find him still there beside her.

She turned, wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, and pressed her lips against his shoulder blade.

“You’re not sleeping,” she said.

“No,” he responded, the words rumbling out of his chest.

“But you’re still here in bed?” she said, not letting herself read anything into that fact, despite how much she wanted to.

“I thought you’d like that,” he said.

“I do,” she said, kissing his shoulder blade again and squeezing him just that much tighter.

“When you’re ready, we should go,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, revealing some of the sorrow that had momentarily been at bay.

She nodded but didn’t speak, feeling reality come ebbing back in.

He was right, though. They’d talked about it last night. Lucian had insisted she take it easy, rest, but nothing seemed worse than the idea of sitting around. Besides, she wanted to know everything she could about Tammy, find out what had driven her to such a sad place.

“Okay,” she said, though she snuggled closer to him and held him tighter. But then, finally, she pulled herself away, and an hour later, they walked into Silver Industries and headed directly for their offices.

“Cassandra!” Sloan said not two seconds after they had stepped off the elevator.

She paused and turned, saw the shorter woman scurrying toward her, a look of concern and relief on her face. When Sloan reached her, she grabbed Cassandra and gave her a strong hug. Then she pulled back and grabbed Cassandra’s hand in hers.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! If you need anything—”

“Thanks, Sloan,” Cassandra said, smiling, grateful for the reminder of Sloan’s concern and friendship.

“Where are Adam and Seth?” Lucian asked.

Sloan looked at Lucian, her hold on Cassandra not breaking even a little.

“I set them up in the conference room. All the documents are there, but I can get anything else you might need,” Sloan said.

She nodded, and then with a final squeeze, Sloan let go and left.

“You ready?” Lucian asked, reaching for her and stroking his thumb across her cheek. The tenderness in his touch and in his eyes sent a warm tremble through her body, one of comfort, care, and gave her the strength she needed to move.

“As I’ll ever be,” Cassandra finally said.

Lucian gave her a soft kiss on her lips, seeming not to care who might see, and then with his hand entwined in hers, he led her to the conference room. When they arrived, she found Adam stationed in front of one of the windows, flipping through one file as Seth paced back and forth reading another.

“What we got?” Lucian asked.

“The dearly departed was Tammy Lynn Miller,” Seth said.

“Sound familiar?” Adam asked, looking up at Cassandra.

Cassandra nodded. “Her name was definitely Tammy. I’m not certain of the rest, but it sounds right,” she said.

“Age thirty-five. Born in Portland, grew up in rural Oregon. Her records were sealed, but a little birdie tells me she spent two years in a psychiatric facility in Washington state. Dropped off the map and then popped up again when she enrolled in one of Washington’s universities,” Seth said.

“The same university I attended, obviously,” Cassandra said.

Seth nodded. “One and the same.”

“So I assume my memory of her as a lab partner is correct?” she said.

“Seems to be the best guess for now,” Adam said.

“And you don’t remember seeing her after college?” Lucian said.

Cassandra had considered that question for what felt like forever. “No. I barely remembered she was my lab partner.” Her voice wavered at the end, the reality of having had someone stalking her for years without her knowing it sending a chill through her.

Lucian, seeming to sense her feelings, came over to her and stroked a warm hand along her hair and then settled it at the small of her back.

Adam didn’t move, but Cassandra knew he saw. Seth too, but he also didn’t respond and instead handed her a small black-and-white picture.

It was definitely the same woman she’d seen yesterday. Younger but still her, and the memories came flooding back.

“I have a hazy recollection of that time,” she said, thinking back to those hard years.

All three men looked at her quizzically.

“My mother passed away two weeks before classes started,” Cassandra said.

She’d been ill for several years, and Cassandra, in her foolish youth, had thought she’d been ready to handle the loss. But nothing in her life had prepared her for the reality of losing her mother. Cassandra had still pressed on, unwilling to take time off, and those weeks and months had been nearly impossible.

Even now, her heart twisted as she thought of those days, and when she looked up, Seth nodded at her sympathetically. Though Adam maintained his usual demeanor, she knew he felt the same. She didn’t look at Lucian, not wanting to open the door to the emotion she would feel if she looked at him.

“You were lab partners? Anything else? Maybe lived in the same dorm or whatever?” Adam asked.

“I didn’t live in a dorm. I stayed in my apartment with my brother and sisters,” Cassandra said.

“So you and Tammy didn’t have any ties beyond class?” Seth asked.

“No, and barely any time in it,” Cassandra said.

“Why?” Lucian asked.

“Biology 101 sucked. The timing was all wrong. The class was at eight thirty and lab was at six, so it was a very long day for me. I was working, trying to make sure the younger kids had something like a regular life. It was hell trying to schedule around that lab. In fact, I think I dropped that class after about three weeks because it was too much,” she said.

She began to pace as she searched her mind for more memories of that time.

“Yeah, I dropped it. I didn’t want to because it was a requirement. But I stayed two extra weeks because I didn’t want to leave Tammy without a partner. I don’t remember really talking to her. What could have made her remember me for all these years?” Cassandra trailed off, tears starting to cloud her vision as the depth of Tammy’s illness began to hit her anew.

Lucian pulled her into a hug, his warm, big body comforting her. “She was sick, Cassie,” he whispered against her ear. “Don’t torture yourself trying to make sense of it.”

“But all those years… She did all that, killed herself for nothing…” Cassandra said, the horror of the truth almost overwhelming.

Lucian stepped back and locked eyes with her and then gripped her face tight. His eyes were dark, his brows knitted tight, his lips set in a completely unyielding line.

“But she didn’t hurt you. As sad as her life was, as sick as she was, she didn’t get a chance to hurt you. You’re here. And you’re okay.”

His voice was a rasped, whispered one that buzzed with an emotion Cassandra couldn’t identify. When he wrapped her in an embrace again, she didn’t try to.

She simply held him back.

L
ucian turned
down the familiar driveway and made his way to the estate that had once been his home, though it was now no better than a living museum, a place for memories, many of which were worth forgetting, and a person he never would.

He punched in his access code to the gate, surprised it still worked, and then, after the gates had opened, he drove the rest of the way and parked in the circular drive.

As he got out, he paused for a moment to look at the beautifully manicured lawns and gardens, then turned to face the massive house that still looked fresh and bright.

The maintenance cost a mint, but Lucian never resented paying. He couldn’t really say why. This place only held a few good memories, almost all of which involved Damien. And keeping the house up was the only thing his brother would allow him to do, so Lucian would, even if lawn care would do nothing to make Damien better.

He didn’t bother to knock on the door and instead let himself in, and headed straight to the place he knew Damien would be, even though some small part of him held out hope.

Damien was exactly where Lucian had expected him to be, though, a fact that was confirmed when Lucian pushed open the door to what had once been his father’s study but was now his brother’s lair.

The two full-time housekeepers clearly didn’t have access to this room. Empty bottles were strewn about, and even if he hadn’t instantly recognized the ornate label, the smell would have given it away.

Lucian hated the smell of hard liquor, the stench of spirits far too reminiscent of his father and the chaos he had wrought. There had been a time when Damien had hated it, too.

No longer, though.

“Early start today?” Lucian said as he looked at his brother, who sat on the floor but had his torso draped across the brown leather sofa. Damien hadn’t reacted when Lucian had opened the door, but he knew his brother had seen him.

For a moment, Lucian wondered if he’d respond, but he finally said, “Late. But I’m trying to catch up.”

A sip from the cut-crystal glass he held punctuated the statement.

Lucian ignored the stench and the drink and just looked at his brother. Damien, who’d always been in top condition, was leaner now than he’d ever been. Not a surprise given the combination of subsisting on alcohol and near-endless exercise, but Lucian felt a seed of worry begin to root in his heart.

Then he looked at the wrinkled dress shirt and unpressed pants, saw his brother’s scruffy jaw and the bloodshot, unfocused eyes, the dark hair that was similar to Lucian’s but far, far longer than it had ever been, and that worry made his chest seize.

Lucian knew Damien would have to work through this on his own terms, but he wasn’t getting better. He looked worse now than he had last month when Lucian had come to visit. His stubborn-ass brother wouldn’t listen to him, ever. If things didn’t improve, and soon, Lucian wouldn’t be able to sit on his hands any longer.

Damien probably knew that, too, which would account for the withering glare he tossed at his brother. There had been a time when that glare would have made him anxious to fix whatever had sparked Damien’s ire. But with his brother sitting on the floor in wrinkled, probably dirty clothes, and more than halfway drunk at noon, the look didn’t have the same effect. Not by a long shot.

“Told you to send everything via courier,” Damien said, his voice brimming with venom that Lucian had learned to ignore.

At least his voice wasn’t slurred, but Lucian suspected that had he arrived an hour later, that would be a fifty-fifty proposition. Two, and his brother would have been well on his way to a blackout.

There was a reason he’d come here immediately after he’d dropped Cassandra off with Seth.

“I needed to talk to you in person,” Lucian said.

Damien scoffed, then took another drink. “I don’t care. Sell the fucking company, give it away. Just leave me alone. I’m busy,” Damien said.

Lucian couldn’t stop the bitter snort. Damien was busy, all right, busy trying to do what no one else had been able to: kill himself.

Damien struggled up from his seated position, only wobbling once, and then made his way to the wooden cabinet and grabbed another bottle.

It seemed Damien didn’t bother with decanters anymore, for he poured some of the dark liquid directly out of the bottle and into his glass. Then he tossed it back quickly and poured another.

“You gonna offer me one?” Lucian asked.

“No,” Damien said.

Then he slammed the glass down and turned to face Lucian.

They watched each other for a moment, and Lucian couldn’t help but wonder how it had come to this.

Damien was only two years older, but there wasn’t a time Lucian could remember not looking up to him, respecting him, admiring him. That childhood adoration had only increased as they had moved into adulthood, Lucian following his brother into the Navy just as soon as he could. After their father had finally drunk himself to death, Damien had gotten out of the military, brought their father’s company back from the brink of ruin, and single-handedly built one of the nation’s most successful defense contractors.

But that was a long time ago, and looking at Damien now, it seemed impossible to reconcile the man he had been with the person who was in front of him now.

“Dad would be proud,” Lucian said, unable to leave well enough alone, not when the bitter, ghostly imitation of the man who used to be his brother stood glaring at him.

“No. You know Dad was a vodka guy. I prefer scotch,” he said, taking another drink, no doubt to prove his point.

“Different drink, same disease,” Lucian said.

They’d vowed to each other they’d never be like their father, and years ago, even hinting at such would have been enough to make Damien enraged or ashamed.

Not now, though. Now, Damien simply poured another drink.

“Did you drive all this way to give me a lecture? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Damien said.

“I know this is hard for you to believe,” Lucian said, his anger and disappointment getting the better of him, “but not everything is about you.”

“Don’t be an asshole. What the fuck do you want, Lucian?” Damien said around yet another swallow.

What the fuck did he want? He’d come with the vague notion of seeing his brother, maybe finding someone he could talk about Cassandra with. It had been a week since that shit with Tammy Miller, and Lucian’s entire world had changed and all because his feelings for Cassandra had changed. He didn’t know how this had happened, didn’t know what to do with them, so advice would have been welcome.

He glanced at his brother again.

Damien’s advice probably extended to which vintage tasted as good going down as it did coming up and not much else.

“I didn’t come here for anything,” Lucian said flatly.

That got Damien’s attention. The changes were subtle; Damien stood a little straighter and his bloodshot eyes got slightly more focused. At least his brother could still spot a lie.

“Cassandra good?” Damien asked.

Lucian lifted a brow but said casually, “Why do you ask?”

Damien shrugged, took another sip. “I heard there was some excitement,” he said nonchalantly.

From Adam or Sloan, Sloan if he had to bet. He didn’t care. He was just happy someone was still keeping him in the loop. Instead, he focused on something else.

“You heard there was excitement, and you didn’t ask about it?”

“Figured you could handle any imminent physical threats,” he said.

“So why would you ask about her?”

Damien took another sip. “Not all threats are physical, little brother,” he said, his voice taking on an even deeper weariness.

Lucian brushed his hand over his hair, frustration rising at his brother and at himself, and these new feelings for Cassandra. “So what do I do?” Lucian asked.

And just that quickly, Lucian lost him. Damien’s expression, which had only barely opened, shut down completely.

“How the fuck should I know?” he asked, his voice tight with anger.

He put his glass down and began pacing a small lap in front of the cabinet. Damien looked at Lucian again, his eyes now narrow, bright with rage. “You always were an asshole. Get the fuck out. I have brunch plans.”

Damien grabbed his momentarily discarded glass, gripping it tight.

Lucian couldn’t gather the strength to be angry. Mostly he just felt sad for his brother.

“See you around, Damien,” Lucian said.

After one last look at his brother, he left.