“I wasn’t going to drag you into this dirtiness, and I had no idea what Jax knew or didn’t know.”
“He would have helped us,” Emma insists. “And I don’t care about the money. Give what you offered to me to mom.”
I focus on the bottom line for me, what I’m here in this office to find out. “None of this tells me who killed Hunter, because someone did. Was it your father?”
“If he jumped,” Chance says, “yeah, it was my father because he put him on the ledge, but did he have him murdered? Based on the journals, no. Don’t assume because he was willing to use his death to his benefit that he killed him. He was nothing if not an opportunist. And the journals make it clear. He felt like he needed Hunter to rule the world.”
“More than you?”
“I didn’t kill Hunter,” Chance snaps. “I did not kill Hunter.”
“He didn’t jump,” I say, my tone a snap of a band. “Who killed him?”
“About that.” His eyes meet mine again. “This is where I’m going to trust that you love her enough to protect her.”
In other words, he’s about to drop a bomb. Emma grabs my hands, telling me she’s here for me and perhaps reminding me of why I shouldn’t go after Chance. And that reason is her and her alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jax
Chance doesn’t wait for me to repeat my vow to protect Emma. He doesn’t wait for my reply at all. He’s made the decision to tell all. I see that in his eyes. He’s not changing his mind now. He refills his glass and slides it back to Emma. “Drink that. You’re the one who’s going to need that now.”
“Stop shoving drinks at me,” Emma bites out, grabbing the edge of the couch. “Mom?” she whispers.
Chance doesn’t offer her the denial I know she wants. “I don’t know,” he says grimly.
He doesn’t know? I think. “What the fuck does ‘I don’t know’ mean?” I demand.
“Chance?” Emma asks. “Please tell me she didn’t do this.”
“She came to me and told me I had to deal with Hunter or she would. I told her she would do no such thing.” He looks at me. “I met with Hunter. I liked him.”
“And you denied me the right to know that he was my brother?” Emma demands.
“I would have told you. When the time was right.”
“And you were the almighty who decided when the ‘right’ time was?” Emma demands and then stands up. “The right time was before he was dead, Chance.”
I catch her hand, but she pulls away, walking to the end of the coffee table. “Did mom do this?” she demands of her brother.
“We never talked about it again. Just once. One day. I tried to find out, though, after Hunter died. I asked her. I hired someone to try and find proof that she was involved because I needed to know. Ultimately, I knew we all needed to know, but nothing was found.”
“And yet, she’s hiding in Europe,” Emma says.
“Not until after dad died,” Chance points out. “That was months later.”
“When did she come to you?” I ask. “When did she tell you Hunter had to be dealt with?”
Chance’s expression tightens. “About six months before Hunter was gone. I don’t want my father’s greed to affect Emma. I’ll cut my mother out if you save her inheritance.”
“Whatever that means,” Emma says, “no.”
“Get me the documents you found,” I say, despite her rejections. “If all of this checks out, then I’ll sign off on the sale of the castle to get Emma her money, but I expect you to be signing it back over to me at the same time, at the same table.”
“No!” Emma exclaims. “No. No, you will not sign that castle over for one second. I don’t trust Chance. He already tried to trick you. I don’t want the money.”
Pain darts through Chance’s eyes. It’s clear that he loves her, and that her anger and distrust cut him. And she’s not done. She points at him. “Give whatever money you promised me to mom. I want nothing else from this family.”
I’m on my feet stepping in front of Emma before she even finishes her last sentence. “Emma.” My hands come down on her shoulders. “There’s a way to do this and protect everyone involved.”
“We can’t be together.”
“That’s crazy talk, woman,” I say. “We can. We will. This changes nothing.”
“It does,” she says. “It changes everything.”
“I vowed to never let you go, and you said, ‘remember that, whatever happens.’ So, I repeat: this changes nothing.”
“You say that but what happens when you wake up one morning next to me and you see her?”
“First of all,” I say, “that’s not going to happen. I’ll wake up and think that I’m lucky as hell to have you next to me. And we don’t even know if she did this. We may never know.”
“But it will always be there between us,” she argues. “We won’t exactly be having family holidays.”
“We damn sure will. We’ll figure out what that means for us starting this year. We’re going to make this year special.”
“I need out of this office right now, Jax. I don’t feel well. The drugs and stress—I need air.” She twists away from me and heads for the door.
I let her go for one reason only: I need to make sure there’s no bombshell to sideswipe us later. I turn to Chance who is now on his feet, his hands on his hips under his jacket. “If you didn’t kidnap Emma, who did?”
“I don’t know,” he says, his expression grim. “But we need to find out.”
“If it was Randall, you need to deal with him and not gently.”
“That goes unsaid,” he agrees. “I’ll send you the documents I have to your room. You might see something that I don’t see. Where are you staying?”
“The Ritz.”
“Of course.” His lips thin. “No Knight property for you.”
“Not now, but you gave me at least a little bit of closure, man. That took courage. And I appreciate the hell out of it.”
“I won’t protect her,” he says. “My mom. I won’t protect her. Not if she killed Hunter. I’ve thought a lot about this during plenty of sleepless nights. I won’t protect her,” he repeats. “You have my word.”
I give him a slow nod and then I leave with only one thing on my mind: catching up to Emma and never letting her go. Once I’m in the hallway and I have no idea how or why I know where to go, but instincts kick in, and I do. I head for the stairwell, and when I enter, Emma’s there, as I expected, leaning against the wall. I step in front of her, my hands settling at her waist.
Her hands find my hands. “You found me,” she whispers.
“I will always find you, baby. Always.”
Tears escape her beautiful green eyes, trailing down her pale cheeks. My thumb strokes them away. “Damn it,” she murmurs, catching my hand with hers. “I’m not a crier. I’m not. You’re going to think you just professed your love to a cry baby. I just—I’m pissed. These are angry tears. At my father and my mother. At my damn brother who did some shady shit obviously. I don’t want Hunter to be dead. I don’t want this to be the reason we came together and the reason we fall apart.”
“You are not a cry baby. You’re human and I like that about you. You’re real, Emma. The most real person that I’ve ever known. We came together because we fit each other. I professed my love to a beautiful, intelligent, honest, woman that I need in my life. And who has yet to tell me that she’s going to move in with me.”
“I’m afraid of all the things that could go wrong,” she confesses.
“And if you can imagine even one moment, going through those things without me, then you don’t love me half as much as I do you.”
“I don’t want to be without you. Ever, Jax.”
“Then don’t be without me, baby. If there is anything Hunter has taught us, it’s that life is short. Don’t let ours slip away without each other. Move in with me.”
“Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”
“Good.” I bring her hand to mine and kiss it and I don’t miss how pale she is, how dilated her eyes. She’s still drugged, still in need of rest. “Let’s go to the fancy hotel room I rented, feed you, get naked and talk about how to make that happen.”
Her tears fade into a smile. “Yes. Let’s do all of those things now.”
“Elevator or stairs?”
“Stairs. I might have slapped Randall. And I might want to do it again.”
I laugh, and we head to the stairs, my arm sliding around her shoulders. “I can’t wait to hear that story.”
She laughs again, such a perfect fucking laugh, and starts telling me all about it, and while our mood is lighter, there is still reality to face. She was kidnapped and Hunter was murdered. We still have no idea who did either of those things. And I don’t know if I can take her back to the castle until we do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Emma
Jax hugs me close as we exit the Knight office building into the chilly wind, by way of a side door that leads to an alleyway. Savage—looking big and intimating in jeans and a leather jacket—is leaning on the black SUV waiting for us. He opens the back door to welcome our entry, and when I arrive at his side, eager to relieve myself from the wind, Savage says, “Emma?”
I pause. “Yes?”
“I promise to beat the asshole who did this to you to a pulp so Jax doesn’t have to do it and go to jail.”
This, I decide quickly, is Savage’s way of saying “I was worried” and “Thank God you’re home.” “Thank you, Savage.” I climb inside the vehicle where a driver is already behind the wheel.
Jax doesn’t immediately join me; in fact, the door shuts while the heater blasts over the goosebumps on my skin, offering blessed relief. Of course, I know why Jax is outside, and I’m in here with a nameless driver and an impressive heater. Jax is updating Savage on all the many bombshells my brother threw our way. As angry as I am over a few of those bombshells and at Chance himself, right now, I believe he told us the truth, some of which were painful truths to share. He didn’t kill Hunter, but my mother, she might well be another story. Somehow that thought morphs into the memory of me waking up naked and knowing that a stranger undressed me and God knows what else.
I jolt with a knock on the front window and the driver gets out of the vehicle, shutting me inside alone. A moment later, Jax climbs inside with me, and the split-second of fear that he’s about to hand me another bombshell is blasted away when he pulls me into his arms, his hand on my face. “I had to do this without an audience.” His mouth closes down on mine, and with the first stroke of his tongue, there’s a waterfall of relief that washes over me. The rest of the world is shut out. I’m with Jax, and only him, folding my arms around his strong body, absorbing his warmth, his strength. Every fear, every ounce of anger, every single thing but him evaporates into how much I feel for this man. This is not just a kiss. This is coming home. To some that might be pumpkin pie, crackling fires, or the sweet smell of flowers in the garden. To me, it’s Jax. He’s the only home I’ve ever known. And God, it feels good to be home, he feels so very good. “There are so many things I want to say to you right now,” he murmurs, reluctance in the way he parts our lips.
“Me, too, to you,” I say, curling my fingers on the strong line of his jaw. “Thank you for coming for me.”
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes a deep blue sea of emotions. “You don’t ever have to thank me for coming for you. That you think you do says so damn much about your family.” He strokes a strand of hair from my face and tilts my gaze to his. “This is how it’s supposed to be. You need me, I’m there for you. I protect you. I will never let you feel alone again.”
His words, his passion, seep inside me and take root deep in my soul, nestling in a place that I now believe was always meant for him. “Jax,” I whisper, so many words and emotions in that single word, in his name. “I want—so much right now.”
“Me, too. Soon, baby. Soon.” He brushes his lips over mine, a delicate caress I feel from head to toe, before he says, “Not soon enough is more like it.” He knocks on the window and both of the front doors open.
Just that quick, we have the driver and Savage in the vehicle with us, and we’re on the road. Jax pulls me close, keeping his arm around me, and I welcome the sweet warmth of his body, even more so, the heat of our connection. I catch his free hand and hold onto it. I need to hold onto him right now. I will never be alone again. I don’t think that anyone has said anything ever that impacted me the way those words did. Even more so than him telling me he loves me. Because I’ve always been alone and I didn’t realize just how bad that felt.
The ride is short and silent, street signs flying by the windows, horns honking, wind swishing around us, but I think of nothing but Jax’s body next to mine, his hand in my hand. In a matter of a few blocks, we’re at a competing hotel to the Knight brand, and I’m just fine with that. I need a break from my family right now in all possible ways. I also haven’t missed the fact that Jax didn’t ask if I wanted to go to my apartment. He knows I woke up there naked because, for God knows why, I blurted that out to Smith, who I barely know when I kept the York situation private for years.
At the front of the hotel, Savage doesn’t wait on the doorman. He is quick to exit the vehicle and open my door. Jax pulls on a leather jacket he’d left in the SUV and then I step outside into the San Francisco air. Moments later, I’m walking inside the luxurious lobby, shiny tiles beneath my feet, and a glistening chandelier as a centerpiece above my head, with Jax and Savage at my sides. My man and my bodyguard, which is a sobering thought. We still know virtually nothing that helps free us from the web of lies and murder consuming our lives. We don’t even know who kidnapped me or why. We don’t know if I’m a target, being taunted, or if they’re coming back for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Emma
In a short elevator ride, Jax, Savage, and I arrive at the hotel suite Jax rented, and in a few more seconds, we’re all inside a luxury room. Feeling the presence of the drugs in my wobbly knees and trembling hands, I sit down on the brown leather living room couch. Jax shrugs out of his jacket and walks to the desk against the wall to my left, where he drops it on a chair and retrieves the room service menu. “We need to feed you to get the drugs out of your system,” he says, sitting on the coffee table and offering me the menu. “Let me know what to order and then we’ll talk to Savage about what can’t wait before we all get some rest.”
I’m touched by his concern and thoughtfulness, especially since I’m used to my father who once witnessed me throw up in my trashcan at work, to which he said, “Suck it up, buttercup.” I’m also lightheaded, so I certainly don’t argue on the topic of food. “I already know what I want. Mac and cheese. They make great mac and cheese here; it’s my job to scout the competing brands.”
“That’s not enough,” Jax says, and stubbornly adds, “Order more.”
I laugh, and considering the worry etching his brow, I do so without one ounce of frustration over his bossiness. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” I don’t wait for a reply. I set the menu down and shrug out of my jacket, setting it on the back of the couch. “It’s a dinner serving, and honestly, I don’t know if I can even handle anything heavy right now. I might do better to order just bread and some fruit.”
“I’ll order a few things you can try,” he says, “and you can find what works.” He stands up, walks back to the desk and grabs the phone. He then starts ordering half the kitchen.
“Jax filled me in,” Savage says, claiming the chair next to me, his expression somber. Savage isn’t really a somber guy, so I’m not sure what to make of that. “Do you believe your brother shot straight with you?” he asks.
“I do,” I confirm easily, which feels good. My brother didn’t kill Hunter. “He’s not a killer,” I add, my voice firm, confident. “Just an asshole.” I shrug, because what else can I do at this point? “Best of the two, I guess.�
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“And your mother?” he presses.
“The fact that she wanted Chance to get rid of Hunter is pretty damning, but she didn’t do it alone if she did. Believe me. She’s not that self-reliant.”
Jax returns and sits next to me, elbows settling on his knees, his body angled toward the conversation. “What are we talking about?”
“My mother not being able to pull off something like murder on her own,” I say. “And just so you know,” I add, eyeing Savage, “Chance said he hired someone to find a financial link, but he couldn’t.”
“Whatever,” Savage says dismissively. “I don’t trust his ‘someone.’ We’ll look again ourselves. The question is, what happens if we find something?”
Jax answers before I can, shutting down the topic. “We’ll deal with that if the time comes. Right now, my concern is who took Emma and is she still in danger?”
“Until we have answers,” Savage says, “yes, she’s in danger.” He pins me with a hard look. “That’s the only way we can look at this and keep you safe. Fortunately, you’ve proven to be a smart enough little girl to let us help you.”
“Thank you, little boy.”
“Good to see you still have your bite,” he replies. But he’s still not himself. He’s still not fully present, not in that “Savage consumes the room” kind of way, and it’s unsettling.
So is the flash of that clown mask on the plane that rips through my mind and has me folding my arms around myself as if that offers some sort of shelter. “They broke my locks to get into my apartment and then left me there naked.”
Jax’s hand settles on my leg, and I drop my hand to his, only to have it folded into his. He’s holding onto me, the way he’s promised to hold onto me. The way his race to find me proves he will, always. “I don’t want to push you on this, baby,” he says, his tone gentle, unassuming, “but we need to know anything you can remember.”
“I’m fine. I don’t mind talking about any of this, but I just don’t have much to share. I woke up on a plane, and a man in a clown mask jammed another needle into my arm. That’s all.”
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