Between Truth & Lies: An Age Gap Romance (Rosavale Book 2) Read online

  Again, the image of the girl pushed itself into my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about her since I woke up in the hospital. She was stunningly beautiful and those eyes were impossible to forget. She was delicate with the softest voice. There was something extremely feminine about her. I was surprised that I remembered all of that given my state at the time.

  But I blocked those thoughts. This was no time to be distracted by her. In fact, there would be no time where I should think about the girl under those terms. She was too young. Maybe Navia’s age.

  “How old is she?” Navia asked as if reading my mind.

  “Twenty-two,” Garcia said. “According to what my friends gathered on her, she’s an orphan. Her parents died in a tragic fire when she was an infant and she had been in the system ever since. She moved to Rosa about three to four months ago. Then last month, she shifted to the projects next to it.”

  “Right around the time Navia started getting the notes,” I completed his thoughts. “Did you ask her about it?”

  “Yes, she said she couldn’t afford to live in the city anymore. The rentals in Rosavale are also a little high for her so Rosa was her last resort. But she moved out of there because it was too dangerous. I asked around to confirmed her story. Her neighbors say she’s friendly, keeps to herself and has a few friends who visit her often.”

  “Poor thing.” Navia shook her head, clutching her chest. “I feel so bad for her.”

  “Anyway, I’ll continue to investigate. The most probable explanation right now is that they were after your car and belongings. And maybe they didn’t kill you because they knew who you are, and they didn’t want the police on their tail for the murder of an Ashford.”

  It was the most valid assumption, but something bothered me as if a piece to this mystery was missing.

  “The best thing to do now is to go home, Devan,” Ethan said. “The rest is up to the police.”

  He was right. There was nothing I could do.

  My shoulder throbbed and I was tired. “I want to be informed the minute you find out anything, Garcia. No matter how small.”

  “Of course, you’ll be the first to know. Now listen to your brothers and go rest.”

  “You’re all treating me like I’m sick,” I muttered. “I was just shot on the shoulder.”

  “Oh, just?” Navia raised her brows. “You lost gallons of blood.”

  “Gallons, Navia?” I was amused by her exaggeration and their concern. “But I get it, let’s go home.”

  “Ah, finally,” Lola who had been quiet until then exclaimed. “I’ll be able to tuck you into bed and spoon-feed you.”

  I smiled at her. “So it seems.”

  Navia and I rode in Talon’s car while Lola and Ethan went with Aiden. I rested my head against the window as a thudding pain moved through the right side of my face. I blocked out everything and concentrated on my breathing to manage the pain.

  When we arrived home, I explained to my father what had happened. He was agitated, wanting to speak, but only managed to growl. Dad had been trapped in a wheelchair for four years after suffering a massive heart attack and a stroke; where most of his speech and movements were compromised. It had been a struggle for him to accept that he was no longer in control of everything. I understood that feeling. That chair was probably worse than death for him.

  I assured him that I was fine and that the police were going to find whoever did this to me. Only when he calmed down, I went to my suite on the top floor. Lola and my brothers offered to help, but I guaranteed them that everything was fine.

  Inside the dark room, I was overcome by exhaustion. I went straight to the bathroom needing to take a shower, but opted for a bath because I wasn’t sure if I could stand for that long.

  I grasped my reflection in the mirror on one of the walls and it was contrary to my usual state. My blue shirt was filthy. Blood was splattered all over my pants along with the dirt marks, and my face was pale and sullen. I sat on the edge of the large marble bath and turned on the hot water, letting it fill the tub. I took off my shoes and then started unbuttoning my shirt. I used my left hand because my right shoulder throbbed like hell. I cursed when I had to move it to take the shirt off.

  The pierced and sutured muscle of my injured shoulder seemed to catch fire. Any movement caused spasms in my muscles that spread across my chest and back. Carefully, I got up. Looking in the mirror at the white bandage, I kept my right hand against my belly as much as possible, limiting my movements.

  Taking off my pants and boxers were easier and I dropped them to the floor. With a struggle, I went into the bathtub and sat in the hot water as the tub filled. I sighed, resting my head on the edge.

  I turned off the water when it reached my chest so as not to wet the dressing. Washing my head was the hardest, but I didn’t want to call anyone to help me. My motto was always to do what I could on my own. I was accustomed to everyone being dependent on me, where I rarely relied on anyone.

  I closed my eyes and my muscles relaxed, easing the pain. Last night’s events haunted my thoughts with my need to analyze each moment repeatedly, trying to notice something that I may have missed before. But the first thing that came to mind was the image of large, frightened blue eyes.

  This time I didn’t fight the memory. I allowed them to come. I had never seen eyes so clear and alive. She had seemed confused and most likely had nothing to do with what happened to me.

  “Stop it, Devan. She’s just a kid. Fifteen years younger, no less.”

  I was going to thank her when I felt better and would somehow try to reward her and that was it. Then she would be out of my life and would be forgotten. I didn’t get involved with children, even though twenty-two was not that young.

  Belvana

  I kicked off my shoes by the door and switched on the lights of my house; if it could even be called that. I dropped onto my bed, talking to my mother on the phone.

  “Did they come looking for you yet, Belvana?”

  “No, Mom. I didn’t get a call and if they came here, they didn’t find me. I just arrived from work.” I yawned, curling into a fetal position.

  I was drained of energy. More so from what I experienced the day before and this morning with the sheriff than work. I was emotionally exhausted, not sure how I could get through with this plan. I shuddered and what shook me the most was getting close to that man.

  As if he were there in front of me, I was engulfed by his powerful presence. It was so real, so intense, that my heart raced and I found myself captivated by his blue eyes.

  “Belvana, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” I tried to focus on my mother, sitting upright on the bed and ran my fingers through my hair that spread to the middle of my back.

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you afraid?”

  “No.” I lied.

  “Don’t worry. The sheriff will investigate you, but he won’t find anything in your past linking to me. Then you’ll be ruled out as a suspect. We were very careful. It’ll work.”

  Mom never listed herself on my birth certificate as my mother. She used the identity of a couple who died in a fire. My mom never attended a parent-teacher meeting at any of my schools and as I grew, I’d introduce her as my friend. Mom was forty-two but often passed for much younger and that helped people believe the lie. We hoped that they wouldn’t dig too deep into my life. As much as we were careful, we could never be too sure.

  “What’s wrong with you, Belvana?” Mom said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  “Get some rest then. I bet you’ll have visitors soon.” Her tone was expectant, showing how optimistic she was. “Don’t forget your role. The sweet and lonely orphan who lives in a shack. That man has to feel that he owes you something for helping him, but don’t be self-serving or impose anything. Delight him with your beauty. Remember everything I taught you about him. He likes to feel like he’s in charge, and to have submissive women.
You’re already a sweet girl and I’m sure he’ll notice.”

  If I were able to seduce him, I would have to be naked for him. I would see him naked. He would penetrate my body, subdue me. Possess me with that ferocious strength that came from within him and was mirrored in his gaze. I would be the target of his wits and his authoritarian masculinity which both overwhelmed and terrified me.

  “I’m afraid of him,” I let out in an anguished murmur.

  “You’re supposed to be, Belvana.” Her voice softened. “He’s a cold-blooded killer. He’s wicked, ruthless, and depraved. I fear for you too and you know how I’ve always protected you from everything. If I could, I would take your place. But the bastard knows me and we would lose everything. We have to use this opportunity, at the moment it’s the only one we have.”

  “But, mom, what if he hurts me? What if I can’t take it?”

  “We’ll think of a way out but you need to try, Belvana. For all the harm they did to us, for what they owe us. Your grandmother is dying in that hospital. She cannot pass before knowing that her struggle was not in vain. This man needs to eat out of the palm of your hand, he needs to give you the world. Then you take everything from him.”

  “I don’t know if I’m capable of this.”

  “Yes, you are, Belvana. Every time you hesitate, think about Noah, your boyfriend who disappeared and was killed by Devan. Remember everything we lost because of them. Everything I went through to raise you. The things I was forced to do. You know it all.”

  I had witnessed our misery up close. I saw my grandmother languish when we were left without a roof. To save us from that, my mother took the fastest route to get us back on our feet: prostitution.

  I would hide in a room with my grandmother so her clients wouldn’t see me while she laid with one after another in the next room. She got us out of misery like that. On her back. I wasn’t ashamed of her or of what she did. I was able to have an education, food, clothes, and protection because of her sacrifices. As I grew older, I felt bad for having those things at her expense. When I was sixteen, I offered to take her place.

  She slapped me across the face. It was the first time and only time she ever hit me. She said I would not be a prostitute. That I would keep myself pure and chaste. I promised her that. At the time I didn’t understand why, but then she assured me that my virginity would be valuable one day and would open the doors of a new world to me. For everything she did for me, I obeyed her. For a while, it wasn’t even difficult but then I met Noah and broke my promise.

  Mom gave me one glance and she knew. She was disappointed and furious and if it weren’t for my grandmother, she would have strangled me. Looking back, I wondered if she wanted me to save myself for these Ashford brothers or if she had something else planned and I had ruined it.

  “I better call another time. It’s difficult talking to you today,” Mom grumbled.

  “Were you saying something?”

  “Never mind. Just don’t forget that that man is the devil. He’ll try to deceive you. Be smart and every time you look at him, don’t forget that he is our enemy.”

  “I won’t forget, Mom.”

  “I hope not. I’m going to the hospital to be with your grandmother. Call me if you need me.”

  We said goodbye and I collapsed on the bed. I wanted to curl up and sleep for a week. However, sleep wouldn’t relax me nearly as much as baking did.

  My entire life had revolved around this vendetta, but all I ever wanted for myself was to own a bakery. I learned to bake with grandma and fell in love with it. It was something the two of us shared and I missed doing with her.

  After high school, I begged Mom to send me to culinary school, but it was too expensive. So, she found a pastry school in a community college and I earned my diploma after two years. It was my greatest accomplishment.

  Begrudgingly, I got off the bed and took a quick bath then slipped into a pair of shorts and an oversized pink shirt.

  I placed sugar, butter, milk, and flour on top of my plastic table. Then reached for a measuring cup and a bowl. Instantly, I was building new worlds in my imagination as I whisked and measured. It was as if the choreographed freedom of my actions, free yet orderly, did the same for my brain.

  As time passed, I sang along to the tune on the radio, and the piles of cookies grew. The sweet fragrance replaced the reek of glue that was attached to the walls. I swayed and hummed to the music when a knock came on the door. I reduced the volume of my radio to make sure it was at my door and not the neighbor across the hall. There was another knock. Louder and faster this time and I was startled.

  I saw a tall figure on the other side of the corrugated glass and knew it was him. I wiped my hands on a kitchen cloth and my wrists trembled. My stomach fluttered and cowardly I thought of not answering or pretending to be asleep. But that wouldn’t fly. The lights were on and I had music playing loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door.

  So I did as my mother said, I thought about Noah, my grandfather, and all the other deaths the Ashfords were responsible for. I dragged in a deep breath into my lungs and felt the cold air fill me, trailing goose bumps up my arms.

  He knocked again firmer this time and anger bubbled inside me along with a lingering fear.

  “Who is it?” I said, sauntering to the door.

  “Devan. Devan Ashford.”

  Before I lost my courage, I swung the door open and as much as I expected to see Devan, I was unprepared to be face to face with him. The power of his focused, hard gaze shook me. And like the other times when he looked at me, it was enough to destabilize me.

  His arrogant figure stood tall. Contrary to the sharp hardness of his features, his mouth was beautifully shaped. His beard was trimmed and I had never seen anyone look so beautiful with such rigidity. He wore a light green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and dark jeans. His almost black hair was slicked back, slightly wavy and dense. If it weren’t the bandage and the swelling on his face, no one would have guessed what he went through yesterday. He didn’t even use a sling.

  Quickly, I regained my composure and cast my eyes down.

  “Hello, Belvana. I came to talk to you,” he said, extending his right hand to me. “Devan Ashford.”

  I looked at his hand but didn’t take it. “I know who you are. You just said your name before I opened the door.”

  “But we haven’t been properly introduced.”

  I looked into his blue eyes again which contrasted with his tanned skin and dark hair. Carefully, I raised my hand but paused. “That’s the side you were shot.”

  “It won’t kill me to shake your hand.” His long fingers closed around my hand and his large palm swallowed mine.

  His touch was firm and his skin was warm. I wanted to find something to say, but I was trapped as if he sucked out all of my energy. It was Devan who broke contact. His smirk showed that he was aware of my reaction to his presence and his touch.

  I blushed and tried to hide it by opening the door wider. “Want to come in?”

  “Actually, I do.”

  He marched in not even disguising that he was inspecting my place. He paced around the room, taking it all in. I closed the door and leaned against it waiting for him to finish the inspection.

  My apartment was smaller than his guest bathroom. He stood in the middle of the tiny room with raw brick walls which included a small bed that was pushed up against a wall, a plastic table, two chairs, and a chest of drawers. There was a small bathroom, but no kitchen. Only a stove that I bought and had placed it next to the sink.

  After he took a look at everything, he pivoted to face me. His brows curled along with his lips. “Do you live alone?”

  “Yup.”

  “Is it yours or rented?”

  “Rented.”

  “Does anyone have the courage to charge for this?”

  “I have the courage to pay.” I lifted my chin. “It’s a roof that shelters me from living on the streets.”
br />   Something in his eyes dwindled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He sounded sincere, but I didn’t say anything.

  Just as he had noticed everything around him, he was now doing it to me. As if keenly registering every detail about me. His eyes took in my messy blonde hair, my eyes and mouth, going down my shirt and shorts and stopped on my bare legs and finally on my feet. It was so intense and disturbing that each part of me seemed to have heated up under his scrutiny.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be that hard to attract his attention after all.

  “I came here to thank you, Belvana.”

  Pushing away from the door, I indicated to a chair. “Have a seat, please. But I’ve already told your family that you don’t have to thank me.”

  Devan pulled out one of the two chairs and sat down and winced as if he’d felt a twinge of pain. “Shit,” he muttered softly and rubbed his right shoulder with his left hand.

  “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

  “Much better than yesterday.”

  I sat on the opposite chair, watching him and he didn’t take his eyes off me either. “Want a coffee or water?”

  “No.” He reached for one of the cookies on the table and took a bite out of it.

  “Sorry for the mess, I was baking.”

  “It’s good.” He chewed the pastry and then set the remainder of the cookie down. “The sheriff told me you work in a restaurant in Rosavale.”

  “At Uncle Sam’s. By the flea market. You’ve probably never been there, it’s—”

  “I know where it is. Why do you have so many of those…” he signaled with his chin to the stack of cookies. “If you live alone?”

  “I sell them. Mr. Henderson at Uncle Sam’s lets me sell them there.”

  He nodded. “Do you work there all day?”

  “Usually, yes. But I get off early when things are slow.”

  “Rosevale’s not far from here but it’s still dangerous to drive this side after dark. Especially for a young girl alone.”

  “It’s my job and I was never mugged or shot like some people,” I quipped unable to resist. “Besides, most people here know me.”