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Though she had resented Kate for not telling her that Hawke was alive, Olivia couldn’t hold on to her anger. Kate had been a good friend to him. She had taken care of him, saved his life. That eclipsed any hard feelings Olivia might have for her.
“He doesn’t still believe you were responsible, right?” Serena asked.
“No,” Olivia said evenly. “We’re past that, but we’ll never get back to where we once were. That’s gone forever.”
“Stupid, I know, but I was going to say I can’t believe he even thought you were responsible, then I think about how we believed the very same thing.” Eve shook her head. “You’re a helluva actress, Liv.”
“I am my mother’s daughter.”
“You’re nothing like your mother.”
No, she wasn’t. But she still wasn’t the woman Hawke wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Not anymore. They both wanted different things now.
She thought back to yesterday when they had all gone to see Jules and Ash’s new baby. The happy glow on Jules’s face, the deep pride gleaming in Ash’s eyes had been beautiful. Exactly the way it was supposed to be when a new life was created.
“So let me sum this up,” Eve said. “I’m sorry I treated Liv so badly. Serena’s sorry she didn’t tell Sean about Hawke. And Olivia is sorry that she lied to us because she wanted to protect us. Is that about right?”
“In a nutshell,” Serena said wryly.
“Well, aren’t we a sad sack of sorry?” Eve said. “Here we are in one of the most beautiful places on the planet, and we look like somebody just stomped all over our tender, delicate asses. Up and at ’em, ladies. Let’s get our sorry butts moving.”
Olivia felt another lessening of the constriction in her heart. Eve was right. Feeling sorry for themselves would solve nothing.
When she stood, Eve grabbed her hand and then Serena’s and pulled them in for a group hug. This…this was what Olivia had missed. Even though she wouldn’t be staying, she was glad she had come back. She had missed her friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Colombia
“Olé! He scores!” A surge of happiness rushed through Juan as he clicked off the video game. This was the newest version on the market, and he’d been one of the first to buy it.
This was his domain, where he really felt the most confident, the happiest. He had designed his first video game when he was eleven. His papá had not been impressed. He had told him that was not his legacy. Juan hadn’t understood it at the time, but after his papá’s arrest, he’d been left with no doubt what that legacy entailed.
Since then, he’d created three more games. He’d told Mamá about them, and she had reminded him that was not his destiny.
Juan rubbed the scar on his face, remembering how he’d gotten it. Was that really to be his destiny? Head of an industry that destroyed people’s lives? Hunted by men with guns? To have no real choice other than the ones he was allowed to make?
He was nothing to these people who had created all this wealth that surrounded him. His papá had made this deal, and his mamá had held it for him until he could take over. And now, he was merely a warm body, here to do what they said and how they said to do it. He had no real power. No one would do anything on his say-so.
The Killer’s words had terrified him as nothing ever had. He had pissed himself in fear. The man had seen that and smiled as he’d walked out the door. The shame had been immense, but it was the fear that remained. If this was his legacy, his destiny, he didn’t want it.
Mamá had been furious when he’d told her, but he knew it was because she was afraid, too. Had his papá really wanted him to die an early death? Because that’s what he’d seen in The Killer’s eyes. One mistake and he could just disappear, never to be seen again.
He had no one to talk to about this. No friends he could trust. They had deserted him when his papá had been arrested. Even his aunts, uncles, and cousins, the ones who would gladly take his place, had left them. It had been just him and his mamá. Since the Gonzalez name was now at the top of the heap again, though, they were contacting him left and right to let him know they stood with him. Did they think he was a fool? He knew exactly what they wanted. They wanted the power they thought was his. Little did they know he had nothing and no one.
So he was here, in this dark theater room where he played video games because it was the one place he felt safe.
Juan shuddered out a breath and contemplated whether he could get away with playing another game before he was forced out into the real world again.
An IM popped up on his screen.
Hello, Juan.
The username concernedfriend was one he was intimately familiar with. The first time he’d heard from him had been a few days after his papá was arrested. The messages had come via emails, texts, and IMs. They were random, vague, but somehow always uplifting. They encouraged him to finish his education, made suggestions for an alternate career, shared motivational quotes. Once, a message had even included several places he could go for counseling if he ever felt the need.
He had no idea who this person was. He occasionally responded to the messages, but not always. This person seemed to know a lot about him, but whenever Juan had asked for identification, the answer had always come back the same. Concerned friend.
Over the last couple of years, the messages had disappeared. He’d frequently checked his email, but nothing more had shown up. He had assumed this person no longer cared. In a way, the silence had felt like one more betrayal.
