A story that has to do with my past and who I am, but makes no damn sense to me.

At least it’s dark. Secrets spill more easily in the dark.

She snuggles closer, pulling my jacket over our naked bodies. It’s still early hours, no hint of dawn outside. I stroke her soft hair, wrap myself up in her scent, her body, and try to remember where I am.

Here, with Raylin.

Not in a place of monsters, a place of blood and confusion, more than sixteen years ago, the night my parents died and I survived. Survived thanks to one man, who took me away from the slaughter scene.

Uncle Tony.

And that was just the beginning.

RAYLIN

“For years,” he says softly, “I thought the images inside my head weren’t real. Nightmares. They came back in nightmares, that much is true. They gained strength in the night, fed on my fears. The therapists called in by my uncle dismissed them as trauma, and that was it. For a damn long time.”

I tighten my hold on him. I hate how his voice is flat and empty. “What images were you seeing?”

“Blood.” He shudders and I shudder with him. “Pools of it. Dead face, dead eyes… Broken limbs.” He swallows hard, his throat clicking. “My parents’ dead eyes and broken limbs. Their blood.”

Oh God. I don’t know what to say. I burrow closer to his chest, listen to his frantic heartbeat and think about this. Try to remember what I know about his past. I’m never been much for celebrity gossip, but the Jordans’ story was discussed at every job in every coffee shop and fast food stand I got in the past few years. Strange how I never made the connection when Storm told me who the beach house owners were.

Then again, who would’ve expected to find Troy Jordan fixing a fence on the beach in Florida? Come on.

He doesn’t speak for a while, and I wait, but I can’t stand it for long. Can’t stand the thought of him caught in a nightmare, feeling trapped and alone.

I gather my courage and poke him in the chest. Damn those pecs are hard. “Hey… Didn’t your parents have a car accident?”

He tenses underneath me, and I wish I hadn’t spoken.

Then he says, “They did. Drove off a bridge into the river. Died from their injuries before they drowned, apparently.”

“That’s a mercy,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m saying. As if I know which death is worse.

So shut up already, Ray.

“But if that’s what happened, why do I remember their bodies in a back alley? Why do I remember my uncle being there, holding me in his arms, and why do I keep seeing…” He grunts, rubbing his face on top of my head. “A symbol. A bird. And flames.”

“Bird?”

He snorts, his warm breath ruffling my hair, tickling my scalp. “Yeah. I know, right? For years I thought I was nuts.”

“You are.” I rub circles over his chest with my hand. “Totally nuts. I thought we’d established that.”

His heart has slowed a tiny bit, his breathing grown easier. “Yeah. We did.”

“I mean, you’re here with me. There’s proof!”

Shit. Can’t believe I’m teasing him at a time like this.

But he makes a strangled sound, which could be laughter. “Yeah, but that’s because I’m nuts for you, Ray.”

Awh shucks. He didn’t just say that. I tried to ignore the “I love you” he blurted out during sex because—sex. After a good orgasm or a bottle of gin, people say all sorts of things they don’t mean.

He’s not drunk now, and I’m pretty sure two hours of sleep have taken care of the post-orgasmic daze. The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill.

Love you, too, Storm. But I don’t speak, and he takes a deep breath to continue.

“My uncle took me in. He’s my closest relative, brother of my dad. He took over the enterprises, and we never spoke about my parents’ death. Ever. In fact, we rarely spoke.” He falls silent for a moment, shifts on the sofa, and my heart squeezes imagining him, small and hurting, lonely and not cared for. “At least I had the guys, you know? Hawk and Rook. I had a private tutor, as did they, and my uncle had me take self-defense and shooting lessons, but we met for other sports—horse riding, and polo, and sailing. All the shit rich kids do.”

I can’t help it. I giggle a bit at that—at his tone and choice of words. “You were a rich kid, too.”

“I know. But I always felt out of place. More so after I started getting interested in the company and realized how dirty the family money was. Blood money. Money from deals with the worst scum around. Everything just to make more. Take over more companies. Grow bigger. Expand more.”

“Everyone does that,” I whisper, not sure how to offer comfort.

“Not like my parents did. Like my uncle did.” His heart is racing again, beating against my fingertips that are pressed between his pecs. “At first it was only suspicions, doubts. The numbers didn’t make sense otherwise. Not legally. Deposits on the order of hundreds of thousands had come in with a standard ‘gift’ note from untraceable accounts. My uncle refused to talk about it, told me to shut it or else. When I refused, he locked me up for a week—no phone, no internet. Threatened me, implying worse could happen to me. I hated him.”

“But not anymore?”

“It’s complicated.” Another sigh. “See, about the time I turned sixteen, I discovered something else. I’d snuck into my uncle’s office, managed to shake off the security and everyone. I was looking for proof of my suspicions on the financial matters. What I found was… not what I expected.”

I’m afraid to speak and break the spell. So I clamp my mouth shut and just breathe in his scent.

“Found a letter, addressed to a company I didn’t know. But the logo… It was a bird in flames. A phoenix. It was signed by my uncle, and the symbol appeared again under his name.”

I blink, not sure what this means. “A logo. Of a company?”

“Not one that exists officially. I searched for it. But he had my computers bugged. He had me dragged into his office. He told me to stop searching. I told him what I remembered.” His breath catches, releases. “That I knew my parents were murdered before they were put into the car and pushed off the bridge.”

Holy shit.

“Seeing the symbol again jolted my memory,” he rasps. “I remembered where the bird in my nightmares was. It was tattooed on the men’s arms. A gang or crime syndicate, I don’t know.” His voice is strangled now. “And my uncle was with the men who killed my parents, standing there, saying nothing. Holding me as I screamed. Then he turned and walked away.”

I sit back, pulling free of his hold. His eyes are red but dry. “He saved you.”

Storm nods.

“Why?”

“Hell if I know.”

“But when you told him you remembered? What did your uncle say to that?”

“Nothing.”

I sigh and lean back against the cushions. “Did he have a tattoo? Like the other men? Did you check after he died?”

“What do you think?” His mouth twists as he leans over me. “I asked. Nothing, except for a small circle inked on his shoulder.”

“A circle?” I frown. “And the letter with the phoenix logo? Did they find it?”

“Nope. Gone. Either he or someone else cleared out his documents when he died, before the lawyers got to them.”

“What about his will? Didn’t he left you any clues?”

“Dammit, Ray, don’t you think I looked?” He rubs a hand over his head.

“And in the copy of his will the lawyers gave you today?”

“You think…? Shit.” He lifts the jacket and pulls the thick envelope out of the pocket, tears it open and shakes out the papers. “I can’t believe…”

Something clinks to the floor. I reach down and lift a small key.

We both stare at it in the faint light of the city that seeps through the curtains of the balcony doors. Storm unfolds the will papers, glances at them and puts them back down.

“Why would he do this?” he mutters. “What does it open? It could open just about everything in the world.”