Stolen Love (Beauty in the Stolen 3)

“Whoa.” He pushes away from the bed and jumps to his feet. “Back up a few steps there.” He lifts a hand. “I can’t believe—” Spearing his fingers through his hair, he pulls at the strands. “How can you even think that?”

“I know what I saw. I know what happened to me. I’ve got the scar to prove it.”

At scar, he winces. He drops his arms, regarding me like a wounded animal. “I think we both need to go back a few paces.”

My reply is careless. It’s designed to conceal the hurt that has, like the sorrow in his eyes, taken up permanent residency in my chest. It’s dangerous, giving him permission to open what can only be a can a worms. “Go for it.” My smile is mocking. “Why don’t you start?”

He scrubs his palms over his face and drops his hands on his hips. His shoulders slouch as if a heavy weight bogs them down. “Ruben came to me with a photo of you and Wolfe at the Elephant Hills hotel. That’s why I rowed you out onto the river, to ask you what information you’d given Wolfe. I never ordered the shot.” His eyes brim with violence. “Ruben took it upon himself to deal with you. He crept up behind my back and—” He swallows. “And the rest happened.”

I blink, trying to process the information. If this is true, it changes everything. The revenge that gave my life purpose for the past year is meaningless.

“The rest.” He shakes his head, uttering a raw laugh. “Is that why you came after me? Revenge?”

The truth is ugly. “Yes.”

“Without giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

“In my mind, neither did you.”

“Fine,” he says with a groan. “I can see how you’d think that. It still doesn’t answer my questions.”

I should be feeling relief, but all I feel is confusion. I’ve lived off hatred for so long, letting it feed my soul, that I don’t know how to live without it. I’m yet to let go. The reality is still to hit me.

“What happened to you, Cas? I want to know.”

I battle to meet his eyes. “Which part?”

“When Ruben shot you.” His expression is pained. “Start with that.”

I don’t believe in harping on things I can’t change, but if Ian didn’t order that shot, he deserves answers as much as I do. “I went over the waterfall and washed up on the riverbed.” I keep my tone neutral, not bringing emotions into the telling. “Some boys from the village found me. The men carried me to their huts, and the women took care of me until my injuries had healed.”

He paces the floor as he listens and turns in a circle before facing me again. “Why didn’t they take you to a hospital?”

“They believed the same as me, that you ordered the hit. We were scared the hospital would inform you I wasn’t dead.”

“They protected you,” he says in a bitter tone. “From me.”

“Yes.”

“While I buried you and mourned your death.”

“To be fair, the people working at the lodge—Shona and the others—don’t know I’m alive. We didn’t tell them, because we weren’t sure if we could trust them not to tell you.”

He clenches his jaw. “What then?”

“They organized a driver who brought me back to South Africa. I used the money in the offshore account to buy a gun, stay on the run, and find you.”

“How did you know I’d be at the bar on Christmas night?”

“I didn’t. The villagers told me you’d gone there after the funeral. It was just a wild guess. You were hard to track down.”

He laughs again, the sound strained. “I suppose that should make me feel better. A little, at least.” Sitting down, he says, “Go back to the meeting with Wolfe. Why did the two of you share a cozy cup of tea?”

“Coffee.”

“What?”

“He had coffee. I had nothing, and there wasn’t anything cozy about it.”

His voice is clipped. “What about the recording I found on your phone?”

“It wasn’t for Wolfe. It was insurance, a weapon to protect myself. I didn’t trust Ruben. I needed a sword to hold over his head. It gave me a weapon against Oliver too. I wasn’t going to rely solely on you to protect me.”

“You’re something else. Know that?”

Not knowing if I should take that as a compliment or insult, I keep quiet.

“I wish you’d told me, Cas.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to cause a rift between the gang members just because Ruben didn’t like me.”

He interlaces his fingers on the bed. “How did Wolfe contact you?”

“Danai brought me a note. He instructed me to meet him at the hotel. He threatened to kill you if I didn’t show up.”

He clenches his hands together. “How did he find you?”

“Danai got hold of him and told him where I was.”

He gives a start. “How did she know about Wolfe? Why would she tell him where to find you?”