Page 42 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

COLE

The text message burns into my retinas, my hands trembling with rage.

Can this little gem dance like you, doll face?

Dark emotions surge through my bloodstream as I watch the video. The bastard is following my daughter, filming Samantha from behind as she walks down the street, completely unaware. My jaw clenches so hard I taste metal.

If I get my hands on this guy, his face will be unrecognizable.

Three photos follow the video - Samantha sitting at different pianos. Each image feels like a violation. With barely controlled fury, I turn to my daughter.

"Did he touch you?"

Her eyes shoot up to meet mine, wide with fear. "No! I didn't even know someone was following me."

The urge to destroy something claws at my insides, but when my gaze falls on Alisha, it diminishes slightly. These messages must be her worst nightmare come to life, yet here she sits, composed and steady. Taking a deep breath, I follow her lead.

"Tell me what happened," I say, forcing my voice to stay calm.

Alisha takes a seat on a piano bench, her fingers intertwined in her lap.

"After you left for Nick's, I needed my laptop for work.

I stopped at Samantha's room, but it was locked.

I told her through the door I was going to my apartment and would be back soon.

" She draws a shaky breath. "When I returned fifteen minutes later, I heard music from her room, so I went to work in the kitchen.

That's when I received..." She gestures to the phone in my hand.

My eyes dart to Samantha, who's fidgeting with her fingers, staring at the floor.

"I rushed to her room immediately," Alisha continues. "The door was unlocked, the room empty. I ran outside, searching the streets while calling her. Thank God she answered after the third try."

The dragon inside me roars to life - that protective force that emerges when my loved ones are threatened. "Sam, you left?" My voice comes out harder than intended. "How many times have I told you never to leave without telling someone where you're going!"

"I..." She bites her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. But Leo sent me a message saying 'I'm sorry and goodbye.' When Alisha said she was getting her laptop, I turned on the radio to make it sound like I was still there. I had to find him."

"Did you?"

She shakes her head, her chin trembling. "His number doesn't exist anymore. He just...disappeared." A tear rolls down her cheek. "I thought he liked me."

My heart cracks watching her cry, and I pull her against my side. She buries her face in my shirt, her shoulders shaking. As much as I hate seeing her hurt, I'm relieved Leo's gone. That boy doesn't deserve my girl.

When she calms, another question burns in my mind. "How did you end up in this piano shop?"

Samantha sits up straight, her hands fidgeting with the ends of her ponytail. "I like pianos," she mumbles. "When I was wandering through the city, I saw this store and just...stepped in."

"Show Cole what you were doing here, Sam," Alisha says softly.

My daughter keeps staring at the floor. "I can't. I promised Mom to keep it a secret."

My eyes dart to Alisha, who nudges her head, urging me to respond. I place my hands on Samantha's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Sam, your mother wouldn't mind."

"No." Her eyes meet mine, fierce despite her tears. "Mom said to wait until I was eighteen and legally an adult."

My mouth goes dry as sand as the pieces click into place. Jessica, why did you... A light bulb flips on in my head. Could it be?

Heart pounding, I ask, "Samantha, do you play the piano?"

She's quiet for a long moment before speaking. "I fell in love with piano music when I was little. After a year of begging, Mom finally said yes to lessons." Her voice softens. "She worked extra shifts at the strip club to pay for them."

A knot forms in my stomach.

"A few weeks after I started, my tutor wanted me to enter a big contest. Mom refused. Said if I wanted to continue, I had to promise not to show anyone my talent until I was eighteen."

"Sam," I say, my palms sweating, "please, play something for me?"

"But..."

"It's okay. I know why your mom said that, and I'll explain everything later. Please."

She stands, walking to a piano in the corner. Alisha takes her place beside me, her hand finding my knee. Sam's fingers hover over the keys, her eyes meeting mine one last time. I give her an encouraging nod.

The first notes soar through the air, and I grab Alisha's hand. The melody starts sweet, like vanilla pudding, but then the richness deepens, becoming luxurious and warm. Memories of my father teaching me flood back as I watch my daughter's hands glide over the keys with professional grace.

Alisha's grip tightens as the store owner appears, watching from a distance.

The emotion and depth Sam brings to the piece is astounding - it's an old, complex composition, and she plays it from memory.

When the final note fades, I rise and go to her.

She stares at her hands, still lost in the music.

I sit beside her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Breathtaking," I whisper. "I'm sorry you had to hide it."

Samantha furrows her brow. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I'm the reason you had to hide your talent, and it isn't fair.

" I shift on the bench, placing my fingers on the keys.

The familiar feel of ivory beneath my fingertips sends a shiver through me as I play the first two lines of a piece burned into my memory.

When I stop and look at her, Samantha's eyes are like swirling oceans.

"Y-You play?"

"You inherited more than just the Walker looks. The piano runs in our blood. You're the third generation of Walkers to play this instrument."

Her mouth drops open.

"Your grandfather and I both played. Like you, I started young. But..." I trail off, the old pain rising. Her eyes fill with tears, and I pull her close again. "You never have to hide it anymore, Sam," I whisper, kissing her forehead.

She clutches my hand. "I'm sorry for what I said in the kitchen. It wasn't fair." Her blue eyes meet mine. "You are a good parent, Cole. But..."

"You miss your mom," I say, touching her cheek. "I know I can never replace her. And I don't want to. But you need to know, I care for you."

"Let's go home," Alisha says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"But what about the stalker?" Samantha asks, fear creeping back into her voice.

My eyes move between both women. "I'm calling the police the moment we get home. This son of a bitch needs to be stopped."

While Samantha thanks the shop owner, I walk to Alisha, who takes both my hands in hers.

"You played," she whispers, awe in her voice.

My lips curve into a soft smile. "Yeah. Maybe I'm finally making progress."

She rises on her toes to kiss me. "I'm proud of you."

"I'm just glad you're both safe," I murmur against her warm mouth.

Her eyes sparkle like jade in sunlight, and the realization hits me like a thunderbolt - I love this woman. The thought startles me so much I have to focus on something else.

"The bastard sent me a message too." Her pupils dilate. "What?"

I stroke my thumbs over her hands. "In the parking garage. 'She's mine. Stay away.' When I found the empty apartment, my mind went into overdrive."

"How did he get our numbers?" Her breathing becomes erratic, eyes darting sideways.

"Hey, breathe." I cup her face. "You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you or Samantha."

Her smile is wary, and I can see the bastard has wormed his way back into her head. She's keeping up a strong front, but I can feel the storm beneath her calm surface. It strengthens my resolve - this maniac needs to be removed from her life. She deserves to be free of his sick games.

* * *

Two police officers stand in my kitchen, one the female officer who took Alisha's report about the box. Her eyes are kind but professional as she addresses Samantha.

"Could Leo have something to do with this situation?"

"No." Samantha shakes her head firmly. "He would never do something like this."

"It's strange that he changed his number and disappeared the same day this happened." The officer's voice remains gentle. "Do you know his surname?"

Samantha bites her lip, shaking her head.

"Did Leo ever have access to your phone?"

A muscle in my jawline twitches as I watch realization dawn in my daughter's eyes.

God, if I ever get my hands on that boy...

"I take that as a yes," the officer says with compassion.

Samantha nods, and when the truth hits her, tears start flowing. Alisha pulls her into her arms as she begins to shake.

"How could I be so stupid?" Samantha hiccups. "I thought he liked me. But he was working with Alisha's stalker?"

"It's a possibility," the officer replies. "It would explain how the stalker got your numbers and why Leo disappeared. I recommend changing your phone numbers while we investigate."

After showing them out, I return to find my sweet, innocent girl still crying in Alisha's arms. The urge to hunt down the bastards who hurt her burns in my chest.

"I'm so sorry," she sobs. "I've been so stupid..."

"Shh," Alisha soothes. "We all make mistakes, sweetheart. Your dad and I aren't mad. We're just relieved you're safe."

Watching them, I make a decision. I clear my throat. "Samantha, come with me. There's something I need to show you."

Both women look my way, and as Samantha approaches, Alisha asks, "Are you going to show her the room?"

I chuckle at her stunned expression. Finding out about my daughter's hidden talent has made me determined - she shouldn't carry my burden.

"Yeah. She deserves the truth. Come on, Sam."

Leading her to my bedroom, I watch her face scrunch in confusion. "What's going on?"

I open the drawer, wait for the click, and push open the wooden door.

"Oh my god." Her eyes go wide. "Is that a real Bosendorfer?"

I nod, and she rushes past me to investigate the room, stopping at the trophy cabinet.

"These prizes have your name on them. What happened? Why aren't you playing anymore?"

I take the photo from the lid and hand it to her. "This is your grandfather and me after my first performance. I was five when they discovered I had his talent. He taught me everything he knew." My throat tightens. "Then he broke his wrist. Couldn't play more than a few minutes after that."

Samantha gasps. "What happened then?"

"Everything changed. He started composing while I spent every free minute at the piano.

He lived through my career. But after years of performing, I wanted a break.

They wouldn't hear of it." The old pain resurfaces.

"When I was sixteen, they wanted me to play my father's composition at an international event.

He went on stage, addressed the audience, called for me.

.. but I never showed. When he tried to leave, he collapsed. Major heart attack."

Samantha places the photo down gently, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I told your mother this story. Said if I ever had a child with musical talent, I'd protect them from the pressure, the interference. That's why she made you keep it secret. She was protecting you from my family's legacy."

I lift her chin. "But no more hiding. If you love to play, you play."

"Will you ever play again?"

I shrug. "Maybe. But first, I want to hear you on this beauty."

Her lips curve up. "I can play this?" She runs her hand reverently over the black top.

"Yes, but let me show you something first." With newfound peace, I lift the piano's lid.

"Are you kidding me?" Samantha shouts. "This is a collector's item!"

"The Bosendorfer Artist Series Klimt, Woman in Gold. My father loved Klimt's work. When he couldn't perform anymore, he gave it to me."

A knock makes us turn. Alisha stands in the doorway, awestruck by the artwork.

"I had the same reaction," Samantha laughs.

I pull Alisha against my chest, and Samantha beams at us. "You two make a perfect couple." She sits at the piano. "So I'm the third Walker generation to play this piano?"

My heart swells hearing her claim the name. I nod.

"Sam," Alisha asks, "that beautiful piece we heard in the car - can you play it?"

"Yeah."

Alisha squeezes my hand. "Oh, you'll love it."

I kiss the top of her head as Samantha prepares. Old memories flood back, but for once, they don't torment me. They're just memories now.

Samantha glances our way. "I wrote this two years ago. It's called 'Where Are You?'"

The first notes fill the room, soft and melodious. I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me. As the melody builds, something deep inside breaks open. The wall I've carried for so long crumbles, and when the song ends, I open my eyes to find tears on my cheeks.

I cup her face in my hands. "I heard you, and I'm here, Sam."

She nods, her own eyes wet.

"This piece was extraordinary - the emotion, the talent. And you composed it yourself? Mind-blowing." I wipe a tear from her chin. "This piano is yours whenever you want it."

"Really?"

"You're a Walker. Your grandfather would be ecstatic to know his granddaughter can play and compose like this."

Her smile lights up the room.

"Want to stay and play?" I ask.

"Can I?"

"Of course. Alisha and I will get coffee."

"Thanks, Dad."

The word fills me with joy. Taking Alisha's hand, we leave as piano music follows us through the house. Pure happiness and peace rush through me. If I could bottle these emotions, I'd wear them like perfume.

These two women have changed my world in ways I never imagined possible.

Alisha stops me in the kitchen, placing her palm on my chest. When she crooks her finger in a "come here" gesture, I grin and obey. Her bright eyes shine with mischief as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. Core-melting doesn't begin to describe it. I need her closer.

"Cole, what are you doing?" She laughs against my lips as I lift her onto the kitchen table. She leans back on her hands, raising an eyebrow as I step between her legs.

"I'm..."

Our phones blast simultaneously. "For fuck's sake!" I mutter.

Alisha checks hers, chuckling. "It's Emma."

I show her my screen. "And I've got her husband."

"We should answer. They won't stop."

I roll my eyes but grab her phone before she can answer. "A moment, Emma. I need to say something to your friend."

Covering the microphone, I lean close. "Keep Saturday free. Cancel anything you have planned. We're going on a date. Just you and me. No phones, no interruptions. Clear?"

She licks her lips, grinning. "Bring it on, Cole Walker. I'm ready."