by Katee Robert
Patience.
It didn’t work. All he could see was the shadows beneath Journey’s eyes, hear the hopelessness in her voice when they’d been clinging to those fucking cushions and praying like hell his men would show up in time. She’d been so afraid, and he hadn’t been able to assuage those fears a single damn time since they’d been together.
She’s alive. That’s all that matters.
“Did you give Journey King medical attention?”
The detectives exchanged a look. “The girl’s fine.”
The door opened and a small Chinese woman strode through it. “You two—out. You—stop talking.”
Thank fuck.
The detectives grumbled, but Frank had never seen anyone contradict Naomi Jiang when she got that look on her face. His gratitude dried up when she leaned a hip against the table he was handcuffed to and scowled. “You really stepped in it this time, Frank. Since when are you dating Journey King?”
“That’s relevant…how?”
“It’s relevant because the King family generates its own media circus just by breathing. Being accused of murder—or being a victim of kidnapping—only adds to the flames. Tell me exactly what happened so I can get you out of this mess.”
“So you can get us both out of this mess.” He held her gaze. “She’s with me. That’s not up for negotiation.”
“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. “Look, you’re not even in hot water at this point despite how it looks.” She motioned at the cuffs. “You kept your mouth shut, and I could deal with a few racist cops in my sleep.” She glared. “Your girl is not my problem. Keeping you out of jail—and out of a potentially harmful media storm—is.”
“Fix it, Naomi.”
“Fine.” She pushed off the table and smoothed her hands over her impeccable deep blue dress. “You’re both lucky that fixing these things is what I do. Hang tight and don’t say another word, or I swear to God, I will shove you onto a plane to a country without extradition today.”
The threat didn’t mean a damn thing. Between his injuries, several witness accounts about Elliott’s behavior toward Journey, and other testimonies about what happened today, the detectives would reach the truth. Eventually. He was just fucking tired of waiting. Journey needed food that didn’t come from a vending machine and the space to settle her nerves after everything that had happened.
He fully intended to provide her that safe space.
First, he had to get them the fuck out of this police station.
An hour later, Naomi had managed exactly that. She walked Frank and Journey to the entrance to the station and pointed an imperious finger at them. “Stay in town. Keep your noses clean. This isn’t over, but once they compile the evidence and follow up on all the information you shared, you should be in the clear.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you’re lying to me, in which case we have bigger problems.”
Frank wrapped his arm around Journey’s waist and tucked her against the side of his body. They both wore the ugly gray sweat suits the cops had provided to replace their soaked clothes, and the material scratched at his skin. “I know better, Naomi. We both do.” Journey nodded in confirmation.
That seemed to satisfy Naomi—marginally. “I don’t expect them to haul you back in before Monday, so we’ll set up a meeting to go over any developments. If something changes, you call me first, and don’t you dare talk to anyone without me. Got it?”
“Got it.”
She nodded. “Then get your asses out of here. You both look like shit.” She turned on her expensive designer heels and marched away to terrorize someone else.
Journey huffed out a laugh. “I like her.”
“Of course you do. She’s fucking terrifying.” He kept his arm around her as they descended the steps and waited at the curb for the car service he’d called. “Let’s get you home and showered and fed.”
A car pulled to the curb, but it wasn’t a stranger behind the wheel. Bellamy King leaned over and rolled down the window. “Get in. We have a situation.”
Journey tensed against him. “What’s going on?”
“Grandmother is on her way to Kingdom Corp. She wants all of us there.”
Frank tightened his grip on her. “Fuck that. The company shares move to Anderson with Elliott’s death—not Esther. Your sister almost died. She’s not doing anything but going home right now.”
“No.” Journey pressed her hand to his chest. “We’re going. She still has board control, and that makes her dangerous even without majority shares. I won’t be the weak link.” She twisted to look at him. “If you need to leave—”
“Get that thought right out of your head, Duchess. Where you go, I go.” He opened the passenger door for her, and then climbed into the backseat once she was settled.
Bellamy didn’t move. “You okay, Jo?”
Frank kept his snarl under wraps. It was obvious that her little brother loved her, and just as obvious that he didn’t know how to handle the fact that he hadn’t been there for her. The question was both testing the waters and a peace offering of sorts.
She settled back into her seat with a sigh. “Getting there, Bel. Getting there.”
They didn’t speak another word until Bellamy pulled into a parking spot in the garage of Kingdom Corp. He hesitated and then said, “I’ll give you two a minute. Esther will be up in Anderson’s office when you’re ready.”
Frank watched him walk away from the car. “He’s about as subtle as a brick to the head.”
“Bellamy’s better when he sees things from a distance.” She didn’t move to open her door or turn to look at him. “He also doesn’t like feeling helpless.”
You don’t have to do this. He knew better than to speak the words. Today had more than proved Journey was strong enough to stand as a full partner, to protect him as much as he protected her. He trusted her to draw the line when she needed to. If she said she could handle it, then she could.
But that didn’t mean she had to stand alone.
“What do you need from me?”
She sighed. “I should tell you that I need you to leave so I can do this myself, but the thought of going up there and facing her down after everything that’s happened…I can’t do it.”
“There’s no shame in asking for help, Duchess. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you smart.”
She twisted to look at him around the headrest. “I know that.” Her hazel eyes seemed almost brown against the chalkiness of her skin and with her blond hair tangled around her face. She looked like she’d been to war and back, which was nothing less than the truth.
He waited. This was the defining moment for them, more than anything that had come before. The immediate danger had passed—whatever Esther’s game was, her goals that day wouldn’t involve threats.
Journey didn’t need him.
Not anymore.
She gave a half smile. “It would make me feel better if you were there with me when I faced her.”
Not to fight her battles—to support her while she fought her own.
He reached up and smoothed back her hair. “Anything for you, Duchess.”
* * *
Journey probably should have asked Bellamy to swing by her place on the way over so she could change, but she perversely wanted her grandmother to see exactly what Elliott had brought about.
They took the elevator up to the executive floor. Frank stayed half a step behind her, offering her his silent support, and she loved him so fucking much for realizing she needed to do this—and not trying to stop her in an effort to protect her. He’d never chain her to him. He would, however, stand by ready to catch her while she learned to fly with her newfound wings.
They found both of Journey’s brothers and her grandmother in Anderson’s office. Esther stood at the window looking out over the view, probably placing herself directly in the path of a sunbeam solely because she knew it lit up her gray hair like a halo and gave her a heavenly impression. She turned as they wal
ked through the door, and horror suffused her face. “Oh, Journey.”
She felt Frank stiffen behind her and reached back to take his hand. Trust me. “Grandmother.” She braced for the accusations or demands for explanation. There was no way Esther wouldn’t blame her for what happened on that boat. It didn’t matter what the truth was—she’d lost a son today and she’d react accordingly.
Esther clasped her hands in front of her. She wore a pale yellow dress that somehow made her look stronger while playing up her age all the same. “I am so terribly sorry. If I’d been more careful with dismissing Elliott…” She pressed her lips together in the same move Journey did more often than she cared to think about. “But I wasn’t. The harm my son did rests on my shoulders.”
Several long seconds passed as Journey tried to make reality and expectation mesh into something recognizable. It didn’t work.
She knew better than to argue that her grandmother was well aware what Elliott was capable of when she’d set him on his children like a rabid dog. It was his sole purpose for being in Houston, and this kind grandmother act didn’t change how ruthlessly Esther had worked to bring them to their knees. “Is there anything else, Grandmother?” Her voice came out steady despite the exhaustion weighing her down. All she wanted was a shower and to collapse into her bed for the next twelve hours and give herself some time to process what the hell had happened.
Something like respect flickered through Esther’s blue eyes. “I’ll be staying in town for a while.” She smiled and it was almost—almost—warm. “I’d like to see you—all of you. And I’ll be stopping in to visit with Eliza regularly.”
She wasn’t exactly asking for permission, but then she didn’t really need to. She owned properties locally, and the Bancrofts had several smaller businesses in Houston. The timing was nothing less than suspect—she no doubt planned to ensure her wayward grandchildren agreed to her terms, and held up their end of the bargain.
We’ll see about that.
Game on, Esther.
After her grandmother left, some of the tension bled out of the room. Anderson rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m glad you’re okay, Jo.”
“Did you…” She hesitated, but the question had to be asked. “Did you have something to do with Elliott’s boat going down?”
Her brother looked her straight in the face and lied. “Of course not.” His mouth twisted. “You weren’t supposed to be aboard.” His blue gaze flicked to Frank. “Neither of you were.”
God, Anderson. She kept her thoughts to herself. They made it out alive and she didn’t think for a second that her brother would have endangered her on purpose. Journey pulled the trigger that ended their father’s life.
She didn’t exactly have a pedestal to stand on when it came to patricide.
He cleared his throat, the subject effectively closed. “It’s going to take some work to reverse the damage Elliott did in the short time he was here.”
Journey perched on the arm of a chair and tried to pretend it wasn’t because her legs were about to give out. “We put out the biggest fires first and then deal with the rest. The next order of business needs to be updating the budget.” The list of things needing to be addressed seemed to grow by the second.
Frank’s hand closed on her shoulder. “Not today. Not even this weekend. You need to rest and recover.”
She started to argue, but Anderson was already nodding. “Take a three-day weekend, Jo.” He pushed to his feet and crossed to pull her into a hard hug. It whooshed the air from her lungs, but she hugged him back just as fiercely. Anderson stepped back. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’m going to be.” And for the first time in a really long time, she believed it. There was no easy fix, no Band-Aid big enough, no magic spell to banish the pain of her past. But…maybe that wasn’t the end of the world. She’d faced down her own personal demon.
Journey survived.
He didn’t.
After this, she was damn near bulletproof.
“Get out of here.” He smiled, though the expression faded as he looked over her shoulder at Frank. “Thank you. I haven’t always been gracious when it comes to you, but I was wrong.”
And then there was nothing left to say.
Journey and Frank left, which was just as well. The strength abandoned her legs, and she weaved on her feet as they took the elevator down. She caught him looking at her with brows drawn. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. You’re getting all frowny at me, which means you’re considering scooping me up and hauling me back to your lair.” She made a face. “Okay, I’m punch-drunk. We really do need to go home.”
“I have a car waiting out front.”
Of course he did. He must be as exhausted as she was, and he’d still stood at her back and let her handle shit that probably could have waited until they recovered. She was glad to have gotten everything out of the way now, to put a period at the end of the nightmarish sentence that was Elliott’s time in Houston.
He’s really gone.
Forever.
She wavered, and Frank was there, slipping his arm around her waist and keeping her on her feet. “I’ve got you, Duchess.”
“I know.”
It seemed like they made it back to her apartment between one blink and the next. She managed to hold it together long enough to shower with Frank—neither of them having the energy to do more than wash each other’s backs—and then she let him wrap her in one of her silly pink fluffy towels and carry her to bed. If there was an energy meter for the day, hers was at zero.
But when they lay under the covers, her cheek pressed against Frank’s broad chest, she couldn’t quite still her racing thoughts. “He’s gone.”
“Yes.” Frank pressed his hand to the small of her back, bringing her more firmly against his side. “It’s okay to feel conflicted about that.”
“I’m not.” It was the truth. Elliott might have been her father, but he was the monster under her bed, the boogeyman in her closet, the footsteps stalking her through a dark and deserted alley. She felt nothing but relief when she thought about his being dead. She turned her face into his chest and inhaled. “I don’t know how this is going to play out. We’re both workaholics who have people depending on us. How does a relationship even develop in those conditions?”
“One day at a time.” He pulled the covers up higher around their shoulders. “Close your eyes, Duchess. Give that impressive brain of yours a rest for a little while. I’ll keep you safe.”
She obeyed, but she wasn’t quite through. “I’ll keep you safe, too, you know. I’ll never abandon you, no matter how tough the stakes.” Not like your parents. She didn’t say the last. She didn’t have to.
Frank pulled her tighter to him. “I know you will.” He smoothed a hand down her spine and back up again. “I’ve never had a white knight before. You look good in armor, Duchess.”
“You’re a terrible damsel in distress, though.” She gave a tired laugh. “Let’s both be knights to someone else next time, okay?”
“Deal.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. The last thing she heard was her audiobook clicking on, the soothing tones of the narrator sucking her under and into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three weeks went by before they managed to schedule that date. Journey spent most of the time closeted in with Anderson and the heads of the various departments of Kingdom Corp. It took all of her not-inconsiderable negotiating skills to get everyone to agree to their respective budgets, but things were looking positive going into next quarter.
And she hadn’t even needed to fire anyone to make it happen.
Every single night for those three weeks, when she staggered home to bed, she found Frank in her apartment. He was always camped out on her couch with a computer and files, and a phone that seemed permanently attached to his face, but he was there. Every single night, they fell asleep in each oth
er’s arms. Despite the professional stress and her worry about Eliza’s road to recovery and concern over what Esther was planning next, Journey had never been more at peace.
She leaned forward to look out the windshield of Frank’s car as he took a familiar turn. “The airport? I thought this was a date.”
“It is a date.” His route took them to the private hangars, but not the area she recognized. The planes were smaller here, ranging from looking like they weren’t flight ready to something that could have been yanked out of a sci-fi movie. He pulled up near one that lay somewhere in the middle, the open propellers making her heart pound a little. Journey didn’t make a habit of flying in planes the size of a tuna can, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to start now.
This was Frank, though, so she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Following his lead, Journey climbed out of the car and smoothed down her deep red dress. She’d chosen one with a wicked short hemline and a plunging neckline that barely covered the essentials, thinking this date was going in an entirely different direction. Frank crossed around the front of the car and took her hand. He led her up the narrow stairs and into the plane. “Sit here.”
“Frank, you really don’t need to exact revenge for my saving your ass. I know you have your pilot’s license, but now you’re just showing off.”
The door closed and then Frank was in the seat next to her. He handed her a headset. “I promised you an extraordinary date, and I fully intend to deliver. Trust me, Duchess.”
“I do.” It was the truth. After what they’d gone through together, a little death-defying flight barely ranked notice. She carefully put on the headset and settled back into her seat. Not wanting to distract him while he got them moving, she saved her question until they’d accomplished a surprisingly smooth takeoff. “Tell me the truth—you’re just looking for some plane head, aren’t you?” She shot him a look. “Or is it air head? Flight head? Is there even a term for getting your dick sucked while you’re flying a plane?”
