Elijah’s lips pressed together and he looked my way. I had to choke back another laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’ hilarious,” Declan griped. “You’re back. Your girl’s still here. I did my job, so I’m out, but you owe me.”
Elijah agreed and Declan headed for the door.
He was halfway out before he spared me another glance. “Hey, Ry. Good luck today.”
“Thanks.”
A pair of arms snaked around me from behind. “She’s not going to need it. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Declan nodded and pulled the door shut behind him.
Soft lips found my cheek and the scrape of stubble against my ear gave me the inexplicable urge to purr. “Are you ready to go?”
Chapter Thirty-nine
The police station was bustling with activity. Apparently the crime rate was high in the city. Being in Elijah’s arms had banished the demons that plagued me, and a solid night’s sleep—combined with another peanut butter sandwich—had done my body wonders. My legs felt more solid and my head didn’t spin as we stood there watching men and women—some in uniform, some in cuffs—wander all around us, waiting for the man at the front desk to acknowledge our presence in the madhouse. It took Elijah not so subtly clearing his throat before we garnered his attention.
“What can I do for you?”
“We’re here to report a crime.” Elijah leaned into the desk so we wouldn’t be overheard and offered up only the briefest of explanations.
The young officer stared at me and I felt myself flush at what I knew he must be thinking. “You said Damien?”
That definitely wasn’t where I would have guessed his were. “Yes.”
“Do you know his last name?”
I tried to recall if I’d ever heard it, but I couldn’t. “No. I’m sorry. But I know he lives in a very nice apartment just outside of the park.”
“You’ve been to his home?” The officer sounded stunned and I had absolutely no idea why. “Hold on just one minute. I think there’s someone here who will be very interested in talking to you.”
The ‘someone’ turned out to be two ‘someone’s. The first was a man with salt and pepper hair, standing a good few inches taller than Elijah, who was no slouch. He was older, but had the physique of someone who kept in shape. The second was a woman. Late thirties, maybe. Shorter than the man, but still taller than me. Her long black hair was braided down her back and her eyes darted all over, taking in everything around her. She struck me as the type of person that never missed details. She also struck me as the type of person you wouldn’t want to play poker with. Or lie to. Neither wore uniforms, but they produced badges from their back pockets which they flashed our way before introducing themselves.
“I’m Detective Tanner.” The man offered his hand. It was cool and clammy, and I’m fairly certain I sweated all over him. “And this is Detective Fawn.” He indicated the woman who offered only a brief nod. “We hear you may have some information on Damien Cross?”
“Um . . . maybe. I told the man at the desk I don’t know his last name. I don’t know much about him at all.”
“We’re here to report Rafe Bellor,” Elijah explained, and I was stunned to realize I’d never even known Rafe’s last name until right that moment. “He’s—”
“A known associate of Damien Cross. Come. Why don’t we talk in my office?”
Elijah and I exchanged a glance. I was wildly uncomfortable with the fact that the police already seemed to know more about the situation than we did. It seemed so was he. The detectives led us through a set of swinging doors, across an open floor space littered with desks and into a glass enclosed room in the back of the building. A metal desk with a tattered rolling chair behind it and two folding chairs in front, a bookcase, and a filing cabinet were the only furnishings.
“Excuse the appearance. It’s under renovation.” Detective Tanner sat in the rolling chair and Detective Fawn took up a position against the wall behind him. He indicated the two chairs opposite him, and Elijah and I sat side-by-side. “Now, how do you know Damien Cross?”
“Not well,” I admitted. “I’ve only met him once. At a party.”
Detective Tanner rooted through a desk drawer, returning with a five-by-seven photo that appeared to have been taken at a long distance and an angle too awkward to be anything other than hidden surveillance. “Is this the man you met?”
“Yes.” I nodded, almost afraid of what the admission would mean. “That’s him.”
“And how do you know Rafe Bellor?”
“That’s a long story.” One I’d already shared too many times, but I shared it once more. Elijah sat beside me, silently fuming as I recalled as much detail of my time spent with him as I could.
Elijah answered any questions posed to him, filling in information I hadn’t been aware of. Like the fact that my parents had been helping to support him while he searched for me, assisting financially when and where he needed it.
When we both finished explaining things forward, backward, and inside out, Detective Tanner stood. “Make yourselves comfortable just a little while longer. We need to go check a few things out.”
Elijah shifted uncomfortably in his seat, watching the detectives leave us alone in the room. “That was . . . odd.”
I had to agree. After getting my statement, almost all of their questions had centered around my relationship with Rafe and how well I knew him. They took a particular interest in his plans to rent me out to Damien. Neither of them seemed to give a rat’s ass about the actual crimes I was reporting.
“Don’t worry.” Elijah’s hand slipped over mine and squeezed. “Everything will be alright.”
His smile was plastic, but I had to give him points for effort. With the army of butterflies wreaking havoc on my stomach, I couldn’t even manage to return that much.
In one fluid movement, Elijah slipped from his chair to kneel by my feet, taking both of my fidgeting hands and folding them in his. “It’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, Rylie. We’re here. We can do this. Together. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise you. Whatever it takes, I will find a way to protect you. I lo—”
Elijah’s gallant declaration was cut short by the door swinging open and the two detectives traipsing into the room. He shifted back into his seat without releasing my hand as the detectives reclaimed their earlier positions.
Detective Tanner leaned back in his chair and watched me like he was studying some kind of specimen. Fawn looked on, trying to mask her eagerness with idle curiosity.
“Miss Stark, you present us with a unique opportunity.”
“What opportunity?” The opportunity to arrest Rafe? Because that’s the only opportunity I’d meant to present them with.
“Damien Cross is the head of an extremely large network of criminals. He made the money he bought that fancy apartment you were in and to throw that fancy party you attended from drugs, weapons, girls, you name it. We’ve been after him for . . . forever. But we’ve never been able to get close enough. He’s smart, and extremely private.”
“Ooookay.” I drew the word out at a complete loss as to where this was all going. “What does that have to do with me?”
“If what you’re telling us about Rafe’s plans to lend you to Damien is accurate . . . then you could get close enough.”
“Close enough to wh—?”
“Absolutely not!” Elijah shoved from his chair with enough force to topple it over backwards. He planted both hands on Tanner’s desk and glared right into the eyes of the formidable man. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Miss Stark has openly admitted to drug use and prostitution.” They were the first words Detective Fawn had spoken, and they sent ice down my spine. “That’s two strikes.”
“What?” What have I done coming here? I hadn’t even considered how my story would affect me legally.
“That’s bullshit and you know it! She’s the victim here.” Elijah was livi
d. “She’s a minor, for chrissakes.”
“Actually, she turned eighteen last month. Isn’t that right, Miss Stark?” Did I? I hadn’t even noticed. Fawn watched me with cool indifference. “That means, legally, we can try her as an adult.”
Chapter Forty
“Son of a bitch.” Elijah whirled away from the desk, looking far too close to hitting someone for the interior of a police station. “You’re trying to coerce her. You can’t do this.”
I sat back trying to piece the jigsaw puzzle in front of me together. Obviously Elijah saw something I didn’t. Whatever this argument was about, it centered around me, and I seemed to be the only not involved in it.
“What is it you want me to do, exactly?”
Elijah turned on me. “Don’t even think about it.”
“About what?”
“Miss Stark . . . Rylie.” Tanner’s voice went from argumentative to reserved concern so fast there wasn’t a chance I was buying it. “We need your help. There are others, girls just like you out there. Some who didn’t choose this, who were kidnapped or smuggled into the country—”
“Rylie didn’t choose this,” Elijah seethed beside me, but I was more interested in what Tanner had to say. Just because his concern for those girls was total B.S., it didn’t mean mine was.
“Cross is keeping them against their will. Abusing them. Selling them. Forcing them to do deplorable things.” I understood that all too well. "If what you’ve told us is true . . . you could get close enough to make a difference. If you could learn where he’s keeping the girls, or weapons, the money, anything, we could use it to nail him to the wall and take apart his entire operation. We know it’s all there, we just need enough to get us in the door.”
“And when he kills her for working with you?” Elijah pulled me out of my chair and into the corner of the room for some semblance of privacy, positioning himself in front of me so that his face was all I could see. “Don’t even think about it, Rylie. Listen to what they’re saying, this guy runs an entire criminal enterprise for chrissake. If he finds out you’re working with the cops, he will kill you.”
Unfortunately, I was listening to exactly that, and what I heard was if we tried to run, he would find us and he would kill us. Us. It wasn’t just Rafe we had to worry about anymore. Damien had money and connections we couldn’t dream of. We’d never be safe. Elijah was right, the only way we could be free was to see them thrown in prison. It just wasn’t going to be as easy as we’d hoped.
“Elijah . . .”
“Rylie, don’t. They’re trying to frighten and guilt you into doing this. Into risking your life. Just to score them some big bust and probably a promotion. You don’t have to do this.”
“You heard what he said.”
Elijah’s jaw turned to granite and he looked over his shoulder to scowl at the two detectives who watched us with disinterest. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”
Tanner glanced at Fawn who shrugged, and they both up and left without a word. The minute the door shut behind them, Elijah launched into his campaign.
“Rylie, please just stop and think for a minute.”
“I am thinking, Elijah. You heard everything I said . . . everything I’ve done . . .”
“No. Rafe—”
“—took advantage of me. I know that. I know he did. But I let him. He didn’t put a gun to my head. He didn’t tie me down and shove that needle in my arm. He didn’t force me to do any of it.” Rafe may have pointed me down the path to hell and held my hand along the way, but it was my own two feet that carried me there. “I’m the one that ran out on my parents—ran out on you—and went to him. I let myself get so wrapped up in my stupid teen angst drama that I let this happen. I had other options. Lots of other options. I chose this. I may not have known where it would lead at the time, and if I did, I might have chosen differently, but the fact remains . . . I did choose this. I caused this mess. Now I have to find a way to make it right.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Taking my hand, Elijah led me back to the chairs where I sat. He drew his up right in front of me so that our knees intertwined. “Yes, going to Rafe in the first place was a mistake, but can’t you see that going back to him now is another mistake? You’re talking about making the same bad decision all over again.”
“You’re right.” I nodded. I could see his point. It was obvious. But there was one very important difference this time around. “It is the same bad decision. But for a different reason. Last time, my motivations were purely selfish. The only thing I cared about was getting what I wanted. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. I—”
“No. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do. I left you, Elijah. You needed me and I—”
“I need you now.”
I shut my eyes and absorbed that blow. He wasn’t playing fair and he knew it. “Elijah . . . there are other girls out there. I can—”
“I feel for those girls. I do, Rylie. But they are not your responsibility.”
I swallowed hard and drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly through barely parted lips. I couldn’t fall apart right now. I needed to make a rational argument if I was going to have any hope of changing his mind. Tears wouldn’t cut it. “Every time I think about what I’ve done . . . every time I look at myself in the mirror . . . I hate what I see, Elijah.”
“Princess—”
“No.” I sliced my hand through the air between us, silencing him. “I should hate myself. I despise myself. What I’ve done, who I’ve hurt, what I’ve let myself become. I don’t know how to live with that. It’s eating me alive. Making me sick.”
“Rylie.” Elijah cupped my face, his thumbs making slow passes across my cheeks to wipe away the tears that fell despite my best efforts. “Princess, please. Don’t.”
Tears were beginning to pool in his eyes and I couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the thought of causing him any more pain.
“I’m so sorry.” Throwing myself into his arms, I buried my face in his neck and felt his body shudder beneath me. “This is my chance to make things right. To find a way to live with myself. To move on. Elijah . . . I have to do this. I have to help those girls. Maybe then I can find a way to forgive myself.”
Warm tears dampened my shoulder where Elijah’s face was hidden from me. Neither of us spoke, but I knew what they meant. He hated it. Hated himself for allowing it. Probably hated me for asking him to. But he would. He would give me this because I needed it.
Because he loved me.
Chapter Forty-one
Elijah’s hands sat heavy on my shoulders. He hadn’t taken them off me from the moment the detectives came back into the room: resting on my knee, my arm, my back, as they walked us through the plan, the backups that would be in place, and different examples of the types of evidence I’d be looking for once I got inside. Now they clung, hard and heavy, fingers digging almost painfully into my skin, because this was it.
This was goodbye.
I’d been away from Rafe for far too long as it was, and I knew there would be hell to pay for that. Elijah knew it, too.
“Don’t go.” The plea had fallen from his lips so many times over the past few hours that I was beginning to suspect the words came without thought.
“Elijah.” My fingers traced his full lips and he turned his cheek into my palm. This was something I had to do. I was terrified and disgusted and heartbroken over it, but I’d convinced myself it was the only way to earn my redemption. Elijah didn’t need to be redeemed. There was no reason he should have to go through it with me. “I know this isn’t fair to you. You came looking for the girl you knew, but I’m not her anymore. She doesn’t exist anymore. I understand if you don’t want to stick around and—”
“No.” Elijah’s ferocity silenced me. “The girl I know—the girl I love—is still in here.” His hand slid over my shoulder and down my chest until it settled over my heart. “She’s just a little lost. If this is what you need to d
o for her to find her way back to me . . . you do it. Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”
Molars ground together, forcing back another round of tears I didn’t have time for.
“I can’t think about what you’re going to do because it’ll kill me, but while you’re doing it . . .” His eyes turned heavenward and he blinked hard. “Know that I love you. Know it in here.” He patted his hand against my chest. “Don’t ever doubt it. Not for one second. No matter what, I love you, Rylie.”
If that was the truth, I’d wear it like armor. Then there was nothing in the world that could hurt me. The tears didn’t give one shit about my narrow timeline. They fell so fast that Elijah couldn’t wipe them all away, but he didn’t seem to mind. Drawing me close, he pressed his lips to mine and held me tight. The kiss was tinged with salt and desperation, but I never wanted it to end. Soon I’d have to pull away and leave him, not really knowing when I’d see him again. I didn’t want that moment to come.
But as we both knew it would, it did.
***
The instant I crossed the threshold, Rafe pounced. He must have been nearby because I didn’t even see him coming, just felt the stinging pain of a fist tearing out patches of my hair and the hard slap of the tiled floor. A scream was ripped from me as the pain in my scalp intensified. Grabbing his wrist, tangled in my long locks, I scrambled to keep up on one hand and knees as he dragged me along behind him. I tumbled down the two steps into the living room and found myself sprawled across the hardwood before I could blink.
That’s when I caught my first glimpse of Rafe. Angry isn’t a powerful enough word for what I saw. Livid. Enraged. Murderous. There was no doubt in my mind, in that moment, that he wanted to kill me.
“Please. Rafe, I—” I tried to sit up, but Rafe leaned over me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt, and kicked me back down to the floor. The wisp of material I’d changed back into before returning tore away from my body and dangled from his grasp.
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