“But then—well—who did?”
“We don’t know.” Damien sighed, then shifted in the leather arm chair. “If we don’t find out, I’m afraid they’ll prosecute Ash. All things considered, they’d have a good case.”
He glanced at Ryan, who shook his head, signaling that so far none of the team had turned up any other surveillance footage in the neighborhood.
“To be honest, Alaine, we’re here because of what our own private investigation has found. Not on the doorbell camera, but from security footage from the neighbors. There’s evidence that we think will exonerate Ash. And we’re hoping that the actual perpetrator turns himself in before my son is put on trial for something he didn’t do.”
Ryan’s brows rose subtly, but he didn’t question Damien’s lie. He just sat back, and continued working his phone.
“I understand,” Alaine said. “But I’m not sure why you’re here.”
Damien’s gut twisted with both doubt and fear. What if he was wrong, and Alaine had nothing to do with Jeremiah’s murder? What if it was random, and they never found the culprit? For that matter, what if it was Ash, and Damien was wrong in trusting his son?
But no. As to the last, he did trust Ash. And if Alaine really was innocent, that was something to celebrate, because surely they’d find the true culprit.
“Damien?” Alaine pressed, rubbing his palms on his slacks. “I don’t understand why you came.”
“I thought you should know. After what I told you about how Jeremiah covered for Richter—how he facilitated that man’s abuse—I thought you deserved to hear from me personally.”
“Ah. Of course. I’m glad you did.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m so sorry. I need to get ready.”
“Of course.” Damien and Ryan rose.
“Keep me posted about the investigation?”
“We will,” Damien assured him, hoping his disappointment didn’t show in his voice. He’d been so certain that Alaine had killed Jeremiah, and now he had no idea how he was going to protect his son.
“So that’s it,” Damien said as he and Ryan approached the car. “We’ve got nothing. I need your team working around the clock.”
“Already on it,” Ryan said. “I promise you, Damien, we’ll—”
“Damien.”
He turned to find Alaine hurrying toward them. He stopped in front of Damien, his head shaking. “I loved that girl,” he began. “I did. She only had eyes for you, but I loved her.”
“I know, Alaine.”
He saw the tears streak his friend’s face. “Jeremiah Stark was a bad man. I don’t regret killing him, but I’m sorry if what I did hurt you, Damien. If it put your son at risk. That was never my intent. I used to be so damn jealous of the way you two were together. The way she looked at you.”
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “I didn’t understand until you released those photos why you were so protective of her. And now—knowing how your father added to her pain—how he was able to keep getting away with it and away with it—well, I had to do it. And, yes, I’ll turn myself in.”
Damien had to force himself to stay calm and strong. To not sag with relief. “Thank you for telling me. You’re a stronger man than I am, Alaine,” he said, meaning every word. Because God knew Damien had wanted to rid the world of that man so many times. And yet it was Alaine who’d done it. Who’d avenged Sofia.
“Thank you,” Damien said softly. “And don’t worry about your defense. I’ll handle the costs. We’ll get you the best counsel. With the extenuating circumstances, you may not even have to serve time.”
“I wouldn’t have said anything if it weren’t for Ash being on the line,” Alaine admitted.
“I know,” Damien told him. “And the truth is, if Ash weren’t on the line, even if I had solid evidence that you killed Jeremiah, I would have kept it to myself. But he was there, and he is their prime suspect. And you’ve done right by Sofia’s boy by turning yourself in.”
“And yours,” Alaine said, and Damien nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you for exonerating my son.”
“Are you envious?” Nikki asked him later that night. It was just the two of them on the third floor, curled up on the couch in the living area. “That Alaine killed him, I mean. I know you don’t mourn the man.”
“Envious? No. I hated the man, but he was my father. There were times I wanted to kill him, that’s for sure. But actually doing it would have opened old wounds. So Alaine did me a favor.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it was a favor to the world.”
“Agreed,” Damien said. “And believe it or not, this isn’t what I want to talk about the first time I’ve been alone with my wife all day.”
“Oh, really? What do you want to talk about?”
“Surprisingly, I don’t want to talk at all.”
“Sounds good to —”
But he didn’t let her finish the sentence, cutting off her words with a kiss, then tumbling her back onto the sofa. Her hands closed on his head, pulling him closer, and in that moment, the only thing he wanted to think about was getting her out of those damn jeans so he could feel her beneath him.
He pushed up, then reached for the hem of her T-shirt, only to be stopped by a very loud ahem.
He turned as Nikki scrambled to sit up, only to find Ash looking sheepish at the top of the stairs.
He cleared his throat again, then muttered, “Sorry. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Lara warned you,” Nikki said, and the awkwardness vanished.
“She did,” Ash said. “She’s going to be a handful.”
“Don’t we know it?” She glanced between the two of them. “Should I leave you guys alone?”
Ash shook his head. “No, please. It’s a—well, it’s a family thing.”
Nikki nodded, then twined her fingers with Damien’s.
“What’s up?” he asked, those words—a family thing—settling happily inside him.
“It’s about my system. About the meeting we had in your office. You probably remember it. The one where I was an ass?”
“I have a vague recollection.”
“Well, now that you’re not the devil incarnate, I feel like I should take you up on your offer. Buy me out or partner or some sort of relationship where the Stone and Stark companies share R and D.”
“You already know I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Are you saying you want to move forward?”
Ash shook his head. “No. That’s the thing. I thought I would—and I’m afraid that you might be expecting me to now that we’re smoother—but I still don’t want to. For different reasons, this time.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to do this on my own. Not to show you up, but because I think I can, and I want to prove to myself that I can do it. And, to be honest, I want to make you proud. Does that sound like sentimental tripe?”