Crude Heir (Billionaire Heirs #3)

Chapter 29

Nicole

It’s over. The words echo in my head. Part of me just wants to turn and run away despite the threat of punishment echoing in my mind. If I had any strength left, I’d try.

“Nicole.” Derrick’s voice, laced with concern, reaches me from a distance.

It’s over. My life and everything dear to me…Derrick. Tears burn my eyes. Derrick is holding me, that much I’m sure of, but the ringing in my ears is deafening.

“Bring her over here.” Elena’s voice filters through the haze.

I’m weightless… No, it’s Derrick. He’s carrying me again. I blink, forcing myself to focus as he sets me down on a couch. It’s buttery-soft texture under my palm is a small comfort.

Derrick hovers over me. “Baby, are you okay?” His voice, although concerned, is clearer now.

“Give her some air,” Elena instructs, firm yet gentle.

Reluctantly, Derrick leans back without saying a word. I feel a pang of loss as he retreats. These last few days are more than I could have anticipated, maybe more than I deserve.

He brings my hand up to his face, that face etched with worry. “Nicole,” he whispers.

“I’m okay.” My voice sounds distant even to myself. “I thought I was prepared for this.” I thought I’d gone through every emotion when I left his apartment yesterday. But that was a private moment, just the two of us.

“What did he mean, that Nicole is dead?” Addler asks, his presence looming before me.

Derrick turns back to me, his gaze searching for an answer. He’s silently asking if it’s okay to share what I’ve told him.

A lump sits at my throat, growing bigger, threatening to overwhelm me. I lick my lips, needing the extra second to compose myself. There’s nowhere to hide, and, with Addler’s big body blocking the way to the door, nowhere for me to run. I may as well let them know.

I nod slowly. “Go ahead and tell them.”

Derrick takes a breath then shares my secret. The group listens intently. In the three years I’ve known, I haven’t dared tell anyone, afraid something would happen, and the world would come crashing down around me. Now a whole room full of people know and surprisingly, the weight of the admission lifts off my shoulders, leaving me battered, but no worse for wear.

I swallow hard. “I’ve been half expecting someone to show up to get me.” I press my lids closed, needing to clear the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m as ready to go as I’ll ever be.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” His grip tightens on my hand. “I told you, you’re mine. I meant it then and I mean it now.” Derrick’s eyes blaze with fierce protectiveness.

For so long, I’ve felt adrift, alone. But this moment brings a sense of belonging fighting to the surface. I know it can be fleeting, so I hold on to it as tight as I can.

“Let me check on something.” Addler steps back, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“Is there any way to find out about your family?” Elena inquires, with a bit of compassion.

“I don’t have any more information on my background than what my grandmother told me.”

“Her parents came from Central America,” Derrick supplies. “They could have picked her up anywhere along the way.”

“You have no memory at all?” Miss Josie asks.

I shake my head, sitting up carefully. “I’ve had snippets of dreams that might actually be a memory, but they’ve left me terrified of the dark.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, sharing a look with Elena. Are they thinking I was abused?

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not that.” I inhale slowly. “All I can tell you is that it’s dark, maybe a cave.” The words spill out. “There’s thunder. Men are angry and yelling. People are crying. It’s so loud I have my hands over my ears as my mother holds me.”

“Was it a boat?” Ezequiel asks.

His question throws me momentarily. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember if you were rocking from side to side?” he asks, trying to piece things together.

I shake my head, feeling a bit lost. “I don’t think so, but I’ve never been on a boat so I can’t be sure.”

“Screeching?” He shifts to another possibility.

I assume he expects a train. “I don’t remember that, either.” This guessing game could go on forever.

“How about a steady rumble, or a deep hum?” he continues, his tone gentle yet persistent as Addler looks on thoughtfully.

“It’s okay, baby,” Derrick says reassuringly. He comes to sit beside me, holding me against him. “If you can’t do it, it’s okay.”

I cling to him, seeking comfort as I struggle to recall what happened. But the piece of my brain that has that childhood memory can’t get past the darkness.

“Remember how it sounded when Sage was on the radio?”

I close my eyes, letting the sound of her voice fill my mind. The background noise from when she was in the truck…

“When we were on the highway on the way over…the sound of the tires,” he coaxes.

The sound echoes in my head sparking a memory. The darkness. Crying. The safety of my mother’s arms. My eyes fly open. “Oh my God,” I breathe out, turning to Ezequiel, my eyes wide.

Ezequiel nods solemnly. “There’s a good chance the coyotes left you in a trailer,” he concludes.

Miss Josie, who has been sitting quietly, gasps as the revelation.

“A trailer?” I echo the word. The pieces of my past are slowly starting to fall in place, recreating the moment in time.

“Bastards should be strung up.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Think about it.” He turns to Derrick. “Dark trailer, men yelling in hopes someone will hear them, maybe pounding on the walls. Women and children scared and crying.”

Tears spring to my eyes as it all comes rushing back. My mother, holding me to her, telling me it’s going to be alright. Men ramming the wall, kicking. There’s crying…I’m crying. Then light shines in, blinding me…

My stomach revolts. I put my hand to my mouth. Someone shoves a wastebasket into my hands. What little was left in my stomach comes up. I wretch, my eyes too filled with tears to make much sense of it all.

“I’ve got you,” Derrick murmurs, pulling me onto his lap.

Weak, I fall against him. It’s that moment after the storm when all the pressure’s dissipated and the leaves have wilted. I’m grateful for his strength.