by LJ Evans
She hadn’t even reached me when the darkness won.
Dax
STAY WHERE YOU ARE
“I have been fighting all my demons away,
So that I could become the best thing you have.”
Performed by Yuna
Written by Yunalis Zara'ai
A knock on my bedroom door made my heart leap. Cillian and his team rarely entered my apartment unless it was urgent. Cara was in my place on a regular basis, but she was at the boat show this morning, handling one last photoshoot for the Conquista. If Dawson had been in town, I could have counted on him to interrupt my morning routine just to harass me about the time I spent on my appearance. It was easy for him to throw on whatever he wanted, because his clothing wasn’t scrutinized every time he walked out the door. He wasn’t Étienne Armaud’s son, the sole heir to the Éclair fashion empire.
The knock repeated, and I turned away from my bathroom mirror, hurrying through the immaculate bedroom to yank open the door. Cillian’s face greeted me. It held a strange range of emotions that I couldn’t read.
“There’s been an explosion,” he said quietly.
My heart sank.
Putain! Jada!
Chills coated my body, pain searing through my chest and making it impossible to respond, impossible to breathe.
When I didn’t reply, Cillian’s eyes turned soft, and he continued, “She’s alive. Bruised and battered. They’re taking her to Saint Francis Memorial. They lost one of their team, and the penthouse is half gone.”
I’d wanted to kill Dawson back in New London because he hadn’t kept her safe. Because he’d basically stuck her in the line of fire by asking her to turn against her father and the Kyōdaina. And now, while I hadn’t put her in the line of fire, I also hadn’t shielded her. We’d both done the same thing. We’d left her alone to deal with the heat on her own, and both times, she’d almost died.
My heart felt like it was being torn apart. Shredded piece by piece.
“Take me to her,” I finally breathed out.
He nodded.
I followed him out of the apartment and down into the parking garage where we had three cars waiting for us at all times: the two-seater Porsche I very rarely drove and the two Escalades we used for my security detail.
“What else do we know? How serious are her injuries?” I asked once I was seated in the back of the SUV and Cillian was pulling out of the spot.
“I don’t know any more than I already told you,” he said.
Images of her tiny frame in the hospital in New London filled my vision. Pale and small, tied to tubes and wires. Only the beeping of the machines had told me her heart rate had increased the moment I’d entered the room. I hadn’t been able to see her wounds―the damage the bullet caused had been hidden behind her hospital gown—but I’d been able to see the pain in her eyes…in the clench of her jaw. I’d seen the tears she’d swallowed back when I appeared in her doorway.
She’d been kept out of the news back then because the FBI wasn’t done with its investigation. She’d been kept out of the news because her father pulled strings up and down every media empire that existed. What would happen this time?
“Is it on the news?” I asked.
“I haven’t checked. I got the call from Rana, who's blaming herself, but she didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She obviously did something wrong if her client almost ended up dead. If she lost a team member,” I disagreed vehemently. My stomach flipped, and I fought off a wave of nausea. We’d almost lost her…again. The brilliant jewel that was Jada Mori had almost been ended a second time. My father’s words hit me. The darkness of their world doesn’t know how to end in any other way but violence.
“I checked their protocols, Dax,” Cillian said. “They were solid. Airtight. Tighter than we’ve ever had around you.”
“I don’t get notes threatening to end me,” I growled at him.
“You’ve had threats,” he said, and I grudgingly had to admit it. There had been threats against me but mostly from people who thought they could use me for ransom. I’d never been taken. I’d never felt anything but safe with the people my father had hired to protect me.
“Not from a fucking crime syndicate,” I muttered to myself as much as to him. The weight I’d been carrying since Jada had first told me what the note said grew even heavier, as if it might punch me into the ground.
I closed my eyes against thoughts of Jada bleeding and maimed. My lungs and chest couldn’t handle the twisting of my heart, and my vision went hazy. I forced air into my body, concentrated on breathing.
I had a few hours, at best, before Dawson would be calling me. I may have a few days before he and Violet showed up and demanded to know what the hell had been going on, and that was if they didn’t park the yacht at the next island and catch a flight home.
But I couldn’t call them yet. Not until I knew. Not until I saw her.
We pulled in front of the hospital, and I jumped out. Cillian waited long enough for Terrence to get out of the car behind us and join me before he left to park the vehicle. When I got inside, I realized I was screwed because there was no way her name would be on the hospital patient list—not with an attempt on her life.
“Find out from Cillian where she’s at,” I growled at Terrence.
He spoke into his earpiece and then pointed me in the direction of the elevators.
When the doors opened again, we were in a hall filled with patient rooms and a nurses’ desk. It was the two uniformed police officers near a door at the end of the corridor that told me which way to head. Rana wasn’t there, but the other female bodyguard, Nyra, was standing there, looking like hell.
“No visitors,” one of the police officers said.
“I’m her fiancé,” I told him. It just slipped out―the lie that Jada would easily and angrily refute―but I had to get into her room. I had to see with my own eyes the extent of her injuries.
Nyra’s eyes widened, and I silently dared her to contradict me.
“He’s been cleared,” Nyra told the officers, who looked doubtful.
The men eyed my bodyguard.
“He can stay out here,” I told them.
They grudgingly moved apart and let me through. One step into the room, and my knees went weak. Her face and arms were covered in cuts smudged with blood. She had a pretty serious-looking bandage wrapped around her right bicep. The same damn wires and lines were attached to her as had been there two years ago in New London, and the beeping of the machines was like a video on replay, as if we were being forced to relive our worst moments until we got them right.
There was a doctor at her side, talking to her in a quiet tone, but when Jada’s eyes landed on me, they filled with tears. Tears she held back with closed lids just like last time. I was at her side, pulling her hand into mine before I even realized I’d moved.
“Mon bijou.” My voice was thick with emotions. Pain and loss and determination. I’d seen her like this before and ran. I’d fucking left her side and gone across the Atlantic to beg my father’s permission like a child. And then I’d stayed away with my tail between my legs because of things that had happened before either of us was born. I’d lived my life as half a man. I couldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t.
Jada’s eyes popped open at the strangled nickname that burst from my lips. Tears leaked out, trailing down her face over a cut marring her sharp, beautiful cheekbone. I caught the tear with a finger, rubbing it away, wishing I could rub all of this away for her.
“I’m Doctor Abara, and you are?” the doctor asked, a frown coating her face.
“Dax Armaud,” I told her, trying to give her a suave smile but knowing I failed, knowing it looked somewhere between a grimace and a sob. “How is she?”
Jada made a small noise in her throat at the audacity of my asking her doctor for an update, but it wasn’t going to be all I dared to do in the next few days. She’
d have to get used to it. No more Jada taking on the world by herself. I couldn’t do it. Not again. I couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again…of having to bury her…of having to live a life where she didn’t light me up from the inside out just by thinking of her.
The doctor looked from Jada’s eyes to our hands clasped together and then back to my face as if assessing how much I should be told. When Jada didn’t make any further objections, she launched into a laundry list of Jada’s injuries.
“Overall, I’d say she was lucky. The cuts and abrasions are all superficial, although the one we stitched on her arm might leave a scar. The pain in her chest might be from a broken rib. I’ve ordered an X-ray. She’s got a concussion from slamming back into the table, and the tinnitus she’s experiencing will likely go away. We’re calling in an otolaryngologist for a second opinion.”
“What do we do from here?” I asked.
“Honestly? She mostly needs rest. Her body will heal on its own. We’ll start hemorheological infusion therapy—basically, injections and meds—to reduce the likelihood of any permanent hearing loss, but it will be a few weeks before she gets her full hearing and balance back.”
She looked at Jada. “An orderly will be by to take you down to X-ray shortly. I’ll be back once I see the results.”
Once the doctor left, I let go of Jada’s hand long enough to pull the visitor chair closer to the bed, and then I tangled our fingers together again. There were scrapes along the knuckles. I flipped her hand over, noting how the palm was free of blood and cuts. I raised it to my lips and placed a gentle kiss there. Her heart monitor pounded out a new beat. Faster. Unsteady. It echoed mine.
I placed our joined hands on the bed, my thumb rubbing circles, trying to soothe her, trying to reassure us both that she was going to be okay.
“You should―” I started, only to have her interrupt me.
“I can’t deal with the, ‘I told you so,’ Armaud.”
I looked at her, surprised. “What? No. That isn’t what I was going to say.”
She scoffed, “No?”
I did want to tell her that keeping to her routine had been unwise, but I wouldn’t. “I was simply going to say you should get some rest. I’m sure you’ll have to answer questions from the police soon enough, but for now, try to sleep.”
“I’m not talking to any of them.” Her eyes darted to the doorway where we could see the uniformed officers standing there.
“They’ll conduct an investigation with or without you.” My voice dropped an octave in worry and frustration.
“I can’t hear you very well,” she said.
I repeated my words louder. She shrugged.
“They can draw their own conclusions. I really have nothing to add.”
I was going to argue, but Rana entered the room, looking completely frazzled. Her steps faltered at the door before she continued on unsteady feet.
“Bobby?” Jada asked, and my stomach flipped. She didn’t know he was gone, and yet, it didn’t surprise me that no one had told her. The client’s health and safety always came first.
Rana’s jaw ticked, and her eyes filled. She closed them for a second and then opened them back up. She shook her head ever so slightly, but it was enough for Jada to understand. It was enough for her to react by squeezing my hand in a death grip.
“I’ve…I’ve notified his family,” Rana said.
Jada choked out, “Thank you.”
“He was my employee. My responsibility. You were all my responsibility,” Rana said, and the pain in her voice was evident. She’d fucked up, and she knew it.
Jada sat up suddenly, but it caused her to list sideways. She had to grab the bed rail to steady herself. I was up, catching her before I could stop myself, heart hammering harder. She hadn’t even stood. She’d barely raised herself into a sitting position and couldn’t even handle that. Worry coasted through me.
“Listen to me, Rana,” Jada said, voice slurring, and I wasn’t sure if it was from pain, the drugs in her IV, or the inner ear injuries. “There was nothing you could have done. I should have sent everyone packing. Nothing ever stops my father’s minions. Nothing. They would have found their way through an army standing at my door. This is on me, not you.”
God, they were both wrong and both right. I hated it. But one thing was certain: someone on Rana’s team had to have let them into the apartment. The only entrance to the penthouse was from the hallway unless they entered from the balcony or the roof. Those should have been covered as well, but I hadn’t seen the security plan to know if that was the case. I didn’t trust any of them, and Jada shouldn’t either.
“I’m turning your contract over to Cillian and the folks at Reinard Security,” Rana told Jada.
Jada was furious. “You’re just going to walk away? Walk out on me?”
“If we want to catch the bastards, I have to follow the leads. I can’t do that and protect you!” Rana snapped, frustration leaking into every word.
“Fine, but I can find my own replacement for your services. I don’t need you handing me off to anyone,” Jada tossed back, and then she gagged, hand to her mouth.
I scrambled for the tray on the bedside table, barely getting it under her as Jada threw up, bile and liquid with nothing else. Pain scored her face as her chest heaved. When she was done, I helped her lie back down, running a hand over her forehead, trying to miss the scratches and scrapes. She closed her eyes, breath coming fast, monitors tripping out loudly.
“This is the exact opposite of rest, mon bijou,” I said gently.
“Don’t patronize me,” Jada said, eyes opening up, anger flashing through them, but I knew they weren’t at me. They were at her father, and the situation, and at having someone else in her life walk away.
An orderly walked in, a large man with tattoos up his arms. “Ready for your X-ray?” he asked cheerfully.
“You’re not taking her anywhere without an escort,” I bit out.
His smile slipped. I looked out the door to the two officers and the handful of professional security that were lined around like a football team waiting to kick off. They were all more qualified than me to handle anything that might come at us if the Kyōdaina were to try again, but I couldn’t leave her side. I couldn’t watch her be wheeled down the corridor without me.
I stepped outside the room long enough for the orderly to get the bed ready and to speak with Rana who joined me.
“You can’t leave her like this,” I said quietly.
“Not only did I fail in a very brutal way, Mr. Armaud, but the only way to make up for it is to follow the leads while they’re hot. Until I can figure out who or what failed Jada, the best thing to do is to replace me and my team.”
“She needs someone she trusts.”
“She shouldn’t trust me.”
I hated that it was an echo of my own thoughts. Rana’s face tightened, and she turned to Cillian. “I’ll call your boss, set up the transfer.”
Cillian’s eyes narrowed as if he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he just nodded. Rana stormed off down the hall with Nyra following just as Jada was brought out. It probably looked ridiculous, the trail of people who followed her bed, but it was as small of a detail as I was willing to have at the moment.
The elevator was crowded with the group of us, the silence tense, and I knew it wasn’t going to help Jada rest. I flicked the latch on my watch, the noise loud in the quiet space. Plans whirled in my brain. I was determined to protect her. Give her the time to heal that she needed. Keep her safe. I couldn’t do it in the city with her father’s people running around. But I knew just where to take her. The most difficult part was going to be convincing Jada to go.
Jada
BEAUTIFUL WRECK
“Black, black, black roses
Are lying inside my hands and it's so bizarre
It's an old, old, old story
There's no harmony, no, without th
e harm.”
Performed by MØ
Written by Fogelmark / Nedler / Orsted / Bhattacharya / Love
My entire body was hurting as I came awake in the semi-dark hospital room. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move my head. It hurt to listen to the sounds in the room that were still muffled and yet sharp all at the same time. I groaned, and a body moved at my side. Fear shot through me before my eyes met Dax’s.
I should have known it would be him. He hadn’t left my side since arriving at the hospital. His eyes had been shouting at me with a range of complex emotions I was too tired to try and read. The soft kiss he’d placed on my palm earlier had about undone me. I was barely keeping myself together. I wasn’t sure I could handle his turning back into the sweet boy I’d first met. Not when I was used to the suave and sure but sarcastic grown-up he’d become. The one who normally held me at a distance even when our bodies screamed to be attached.
“You’re hurting. Shall I get a nurse?” he asked, his deep voice barely reaching me through the frustrating layer of cotton and persistent ringing filling my ears. As panic surged through me, I reminded myself that it wasn’t permanent. The otolaryngologist had said over ninety-five percent of blast victims had their hearing recover, but it could take weeks if not months. He’d given me an initial injection treatment and then left, leaving a schedule of appointments behind.
I tried to shake my head, and it caused the pain to scream through me again, but I didn’t want anything to help me escape the pain. I needed to feel every ounce of it. I needed it to remind me that my body and soul were here while Bobby’s were not. I needed it to remind me of what it meant to go up against my father and his organization. I felt childish and naïve for ever thinking I could topple it with Dawson and the FBI. I knew now that it had just been my way of striking out at my father once more, like I had with the chauffeur, and the schools I’d been kicked out of, and the money I spent like it was a disposable commodity. But instead of me paying the price, it was always the people around me who did.
