Tristan looked back toward the bathroom where Rogers still remained. "I want you to go to my room and stay there. Don't come out until I come get you. Do you understand?"
"Why?"
He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips, whispering, "I promise someday I'll be able to tell you everything, Nina, but for now, please, no more questions. All I can say is that I would never let anyone hurt you. I need you to believe me."
Nodding, I hugged him. "I do. Just promise me you won't get hurt."
Above me, he said, "I'll be fine." He pushed me back from him and cupped my chin. "Now go stay in my room and lock the door. Don't come out until I come get you."
I wanted nothing less than to leave him there to deal with the devastating reality of being betrayed by the person he'd known and trusted longer than anyone else in this world, but I was frightened enough not to fight him on this. Quickly, I ran to his room and locked the door behind me, my hands shaking in fear at everything I'd seen and heard.
Looking around, I remembered the first night I'd come over from my side of the house to pronounce my anger at being held against my will. That Nina had been so ignorant of who Tristan really was. Never a jailer, he was my protector. I trusted him, and now more than ever, I needed to rely on him, even though I didn't know what danger surrounded us.
At that moment, my memory was what could help me the most, but all I had was the recollection of watching a cartoon with my nieces and the fleeting images of looking at pictures of Tristan as a child. I sat on the edge of his bed and closed my eyes, trying to piece together the memory Rogers' mention of sports trophies had caused to become so real in my mind.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember where I'd seen those pictures. Had Tristan shown me them before my accident, maybe as we began to learn things about one another when we were first dating? Something about the images in my mind gave me a sense that I hadn't seen them with him, but then how would I have seen pictures of his childhood?
I opened my eyes and scanned the room around me. Maybe I had seen them in this room. He had said we'd shared this room before my accident, so that would make sense. I knew it might be an invasion of his privacy, but I wanted to know more about why this memory seemed so important, so I began to look through his dresser drawers.
Running my hands over pair after pair of black dress socks and cotton boxer briefs, I found nothing that felt like it would be pictures. I moved through all the drawers and there was nothing but what belonged in them. His desk sat across the room, so I tried there found nothing that made me think I had seen them in this room.
But if not here, where in this house would pictures of Tristan as a child be?
A noise outside in the hallway jarred me out of my thoughts, and I stood frozen in place staring at the bedroom door. I listened for it again, but nothing happened. My fear at a strange noise was replaced with concern for Tristan, so I took a deep breath and opened the door to find him standing there.
"Why did you open the door?"
"I was worried about you. What happened? Are you okay?" I asked as I pulled him into the room.
"I'm fine."
His answer screamed that he was putting up walls to hide how hurt he was. I hated seeing him like this. I wanted to make him smile like he had all those times for me when I laid in that hospital bed all those weeks.
I followed him to the bed and sat down next to him. Taking his hand, I brought it to my mouth and kissed it. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I'm sorry all of this happened because of me."
He shook his head but said nothing.
"I don't know what's going on, but don't shut me out. I don't need to know everything right now, but I need to know we're okay."
Turning to face me, he looked at me with soulful brown eyes full of pain. "Everything I've trusted all my life has been a lie. You're all I have that's honest and true. I need to know we're okay as much as you do, Nina."
I cradled his face in my hands. "I'm here with you. I'm not going anywhere, Tristan. I promise."
"Baby, things are going to get bad. You're going to find out things about me that you're not going to like. I need you to remember when all of it comes out that I love you and never meant any harm."
"You'd never hurt me, Tristan. I'd never believe you could."
He hung his head and said quietly, "I'm sorry we're not going to get to elope. Seems we never can take that last step and finally get married."
Stroking his back, I leaned against him. "Next time we will."
He jumped at the sound of a knock on the door and opened it to find Jensen standing there looking pale. I stood up and hurried to stand behind Tristan as his driver told him the police were at the door and wanted to speak to him.
Tristan grabbed my hand, and we walked out to speak to the police. My heart was racing as I wondered what they could want. Had Rogers reported Tristan's attack on him and the cops were there to arrest him? I couldn't let that happen. I'd tell them everything if that's what they were here for.
I squeezed his hand in mine to let him know I was right there with him as we walked up to meet the two men in uniform standing just inside the entryway. Both were chubby and looked like they'd spent too many breaks at the local donut shop, but they didn't look threatening. In fact, they looked more concerned than anything else.
"Mr. Stone? Tristan Stone?"
Nodding, he answered, "Yes. What can I do for you tonight, officer?"
"Do you have a Jonathan Rogers in your employ?" the policeman on the right asked as the other one waited with a pen and notepad for the answer.
"Yes. Rogers is my butler."
"Sir, when was the last time you saw him?"
"About an hour ago."
Tristan's answers were short, and I watched the officers carefully to see if they found them suspicious. Neither man seemed to, thankfully.
"Mr. Stone, a man with identification showing he was Jonathan Rogers was hit by a car just outside the gate to your property. I'm sorry, but he's dead."
I felt Tristan's body deflate next to me, and I quickly wrapped my arm around his waist to support him. The air left his body in a whoosh as he exhaled heavily.
"What? That...that's impossible. He was just here."
"I'm sorry, sir. Do you know how we can contact his next of kin?"
"He doesn't have any family. He's worked for my family for over twenty years and was never married and never had any children." He stopped for a moment and then said quietly, "We were his family."
Tristan's voice sounded faraway, like in a dream. The officer taking notes began to explain about Rogers' body and burial, but his words all flowed together until they didn't make sense anymore. I watched Tristan nod as if he understood everything, but I saw in his eyes it was all a jumble like it was for me.