Page 17 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Atticus

“We’re going to Hartford?” Lilah asks when I merge onto the highway.

“Directly to the hotel the conference is at; unless you need to make a stop?”

“Nope, no stop needed.” She grins at me, then fiddles with the radio. Hideous pop music pumps through the speakers and I cringe as she leans back, planning to leave it.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

She gasps. “How dare you?”

“This is awful.”

“It’s fun .”

“It’s awful,” I repeat.

“Would you rather me put on that awful screamy stuff?”

I huff out a laugh. “Definitely not.”

“The Beatles then?”

“No.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Atty. What do you listen to?”

“Debussy, Bocelli, Lang Lang.”

She gapes at me. “Are you speaking English?”

“Just put on whatever you want,” I mutter, with full intentions of broadening her musical horizons another time. No kitten of mine is going to listen to radio trash.

The ride is relatively smooth, except for hitting a few bouts of traffic through the Boston tunnels.

If I were a typical person, I’d avoid them after what happened to me.

Traumatic memories and all. A pang hits my chest when we drive by the spot my parents died, but it’s easily brushed away.

We stop at one rest stop for snacks, but otherwise, the ride is easy.

I appreciate that being around Lilah doesn’t take a lot of energy or put me on edge.

I’ve spent most of my conscious life trying to fit in.

I’ve always known I was different from other people.

No one ever understood me. People avoided me.

Looked at me like I was diseased. It was all very confusing and fucked me up until the night my parents died.

Everything came together then. Everything made sense.

When I woke up the next day, it was like I was looking through a new set of eyes. I finally got it.

I wasn’t the same. I was different.

But if I wanted to get by in life, I had to pretend.

I’d been taught about pretending and imagination—I certainly had one.

I could vividly paint pictures in my head of blood and cutting open flesh, something that washes a calmness over me like nothing else.

And my memory helped. I saw things and could remember them in specific detail.

So I started studying people. I knew I’d never make it in the world if I didn’t fit in.

Thanks to that fateful night my parents died and the years I’d spent watching my father kiss ass to clients and bark out his fake laugh, it didn’t take much.

Everyone loved my father. Pretending worked for him.

I just didn’t understand why until they died…

And so I turned into a twisted version of him.

But it’s nice that I don’t have to pretend around Lilah. That I have someone here, with me, who can not only help keep me straight, but just be here. Sort of like Violet, but different. Better.

Violet and I were toxic for each other. We were a whirlwind ready to turn into a tornado.

Had we spent more time together, it would have been disastrous.

I’m not sure I’d be a free man today had she not left me.

I try to keep those thoughts in my head when I think of her and what she’s doing… why she left.

I don’t crave human contact like others. I don’t want emotional connections in the same way they do, but I do want it. Just a little. It’s why Violet’s memory has always stuck with me. It’s why I still see my mother’s laughing eyes. It’s why I will never let my kitten go.

Fuck. Maybe I do have mommy problems. And all this time, I thought I was safe from that. Even after all the shit that happened with my sick foster mother… Interesting. So very interesting that I’m still learning things about myself today, and twenty-seven years old.

“Are we almost there? I have to pee.”

We make a quick stop at a gas station so Lilah can use the restroom, even though the hotel is ten minutes away.

She wants snacks too, so I hand her my credit card.

I fill up the car while we’re here. A red caravan pulls up to the pump on the other side of mine.

Two adults are in the front, while through the tinted windows, I make out smaller figures in the back. Two or three of them, bouncing around.

The man gets out of the driver’s side and comes over to swipe his card. We make eye contact, and he smiles. “How’s it going?”

I force a smile and give a little head nod. He disappears behind the pump, but I keep my gaze on the woman in the front who is smiling into the visor mirror and talking—I assume to the kids.

She’s happy. It’s not fake. It’s real-life happiness.

Have I ever experienced that?

Arms come around my waist, and Lilah sneaks under my arm, burying her face against my chest. “I missed you.”

I put my arm around her. “You were gone for two minutes.”

“I missed hugging you.”

I kiss the top of her head, then tell her to get into the car while I finish pumping the gas. Laughter filters out through the red van, and I wonder if kids are the answer to happiness. I can’t imagine it being so. They’re dirty, loud, and need too much attention. But if it was my own…

I can’t have kids, and I’m not sure why I’m thinking about it.

My life hasn’t been easy, but I don’t hate it.

Deep in my core, I’m angry, and I’m very aware of it.

I don’t want to be the reason another human grows up the way I did.

I don’t need to put a human on this earth to go through the same bullshit I did and still struggle with.

The pump shuts off, so I hang it up on the hook, decline my receipt, then get into the car. The sun is already going down, and though it’s been a long day, I’m far from tired.

We hit some traffic through the city, and somehow Lilah falls asleep in the short time it takes to get to the hotel.

I find a spot to park in, but I don’t rush to get out.

My brother should be in there by now. I watch Lilah’s relaxed body, her eyelids fluttering.

The way her soft lips gently press together.

She is beautiful, and she’s mine. All fucking mine, and I will destroy anyone who tries to take her away from me.

There is no way I will let this woman go.

I will raze every city to the ground, before I allow that to happen.

Quietly as I can, I get out and go around to the trunk to lay out the blankets and pillows in the back.

When it’s all set up, I go to her side, unbuckle her belt, and scoop her up.

She hums against me, and I kiss her head as I carry her around back to slide her onto the bed I made.

I’m glad we took the SUV because there’s plenty of room.

Once I put her down, she grabs the pillow, nuzzling her face against it as I cover her with the blanket.

I watch her for another moment as she falls deeper into sleep, then I close the door and go back to the driver’s side.

I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with this girl. All I know is I found her, I wanted her, and so I took her. Now, she’s mine to take care of. I don’t want to let her go. She doesn’t seem to want to go and that makes things all the better.

No one has ever stuck around for me before. No one has ever wanted me just for me. And maybe that’s not why Lilah is here. Maybe she is just using me because I protected her, and I have money. That could be true. But something tells me it isn’t, and I’ve never been one to ignore my gut feelings.

I reach behind me to grab my backpack and dig out the binoculars, but I hesitate to use them.

Will I know James when I see him? Am I going to lose it when I do?

Second-guessing myself isn’t something I’m used to. I’m confident in my choices and what I do in my day to day. But this whole finding out I have a twin brother thing has fucked me up. I’m not acting right. I’m being messy and unpredictable. That’s how people get into trouble.

What exactly is my plan? Go up to him, hold out my hand, and say, “Hi, I’m Atticus—your long-lost twin brother who was given up for adoption. Nice to meet you.”? I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I need to meet him. I need answers, and he definitely has them.

I need to know what makes him so special. Why was he the one she kept while I was tossed away so easily?

The hotel is large, with a ton of rooms and thousands of people. The conference alone has hundreds of guests. I’m not great at schmoozing people. I’m not very charming, as I tend to ignore people rather than use them for manipulation. Though, if I want any sort of info, I’ll have to try.

I glance in the rear view mirror to get a look at Lilah.

She’s sleeping peacefully. If she were awake, I bet she could go in there and find him.

She could charm the pants off every worker in the place.

But she’s sleeping, and I don’t want to wake her up.

This could wait until morning, but no it can’t.

My skin is already itching. So, I guess the only way to do this is to do it myself.

I’ve gotten by in life so far, I can manage this too.

I just need to remember the key points of interacting with people. Smile. Be polite and precise. Watch for their cues and react appropriately.

I can do this.

Before getting out of the car, I send Lilah a quick text in case she wakes while I’m gone and wonders where I am. I check that the doors are locked before heading for the hotel. If I come back and find her gone, I will fly over the edge.

The lobby is glowing from the ton of sparkling lights.

I pull the door open and walk straight to the reception area.

There are two people behind the desk. The guy on the right is currently helping an older man, while the woman smiles at me and waves me over.

She looks to be in her mid-forties. Red hair that’s short and wavy.

She has way too much makeup on her face, but that seems to be a thing nowadays.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you?” she asks with a practiced smile.

“I’m looking for my brother,” I say.

Key points. Smile. Polite. Precise.

“Oh okay. When did you see him last?”

“I’ve never seen him.”

Her brow furrows, and she clears her throat. “You’ve never seen him?”

“No, ma’am.” There’s me being polite again. “I’m hoping you can help me find him. His name is James Erickson.”

She blinks a few times. “Have you tried the police station?”

“Why would I go there? He hasn’t been arrested.”

“They help find missing people.”

“James isn’t missing,” I say. “I just don’t know where he is.”

“Right, uhm…” She clears her throat, glancing to the side at the other worker who is in a deep conversation with the old man. “I’m not sure I can help you find your brother.”

“You have the room he is in.”

Understanding flashes in his eyes. “Oh, he’s a guest here?”

I nod.

“Unfortunately, I still cannot help you.”

“Why not?”

“I cannot give out guest information.”

“But he’s my brother,” I argue.

I know well enough employees aren’t allowed to give out information like this, but he’s my brother. Certainly they’ll make an exception, right? People do it all the time.

“I understand that, sir, but I can’t give that information to anyone. ”

“Call him then.” I hold her gaze. She just stares at me. “If you can’t give it to me, then call him and tell him I am here.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Please,” I grit out as my hands start to tremble.

My skin is itching, and I have to roll out my neck to keep calm.

I’m trying my best to play nice and stay calm to get what I need.

Manipulation has never been my thing, not in this manner, and perhaps I should have practiced a little before coming in here.

“Okay, sure. I will call him.”

“Thank you.”

Polite. Polite. Polite.

She types something into the computer. “You said Erickson?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, she continues to type a few things. When she picks up the phone, I focus on the numbers she punches in.

6-5-4

I guess manipulating people isn’t all that difficult.

She holds the receiver to her ear for a few moments before pressing the button to end the call.

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t seem to be in.”

“Thank you for your help,” I say before taking off for the door.

I know what room he’s in. All I have to do now is go to it.