by Skye Warren
The senator has put his hand low on one of my hips, and he slowly works it around to my back. “Is this friend of a friend destined to remain a secret?”
“He knew someone I met through…complicated circumstances.” I frown a little, to show him this might be difficult to talk about, and lean toward one of the empty ballrooms. The senator comes willingly. He moves us into the cut of light from the ballroom door, still letting me hover on the edge of safety. “A certain colonel who recently met a bad end.”
His eyes turn mean and dark, a fist clenching by his side. “Who the hell are you?”
“My real name is Holly Frank.”
“So you’re the tits and ass.”
My eyes narrow. “What a gentleman. I’m sure your constituents would be thrilled to know they elected a person like you. Maybe we should go out there and tell them what you’re really like.”
“My constituents don’t give a fuck how I treat little sluts like you.”
That’s probably not an amazing sound bite for him, but I’m not satisfied with a comment that some news sites won’t even air. I want a full confession. “Elijah told me all about you. How you gave orders to the colonel, how you’re going to find another Army front man now that he’s dead. I know everything.”
A smirk. “Another Army front man? I have twenty, sweetheart. In every goddamn government department and agency. When one falls down, another stands in his place.”
I shiver at the menace in his voice. “You don’t need to worry about Elijah North. You worry about me. I’m the one who knows your secrets.”
“If you know a single thing about me, you know that I could shoot you right where you stand. And I could get away with it. That’s my power.”
I pull my phone out of my clutch, pressing the pause button on the record app. “That just got uploaded to the cloud, by the way. So I hope you’re ready to answer questions about that.”
His eyes narrow. “You little bitch.”
My heart is ready to leap out of my body and sprint for the lobby. But instead of leaving, instead of abandoning me to this empty room and his threats, he plants his feet. The senator blocks the door.
The hallway isn’t empty anymore. There are shadows out there, suited shadows, and in a rush of shame I realize how foolish I’ve been. Of course he would come here with people.
Of course he wouldn’t say all those things to me and let me live.
I’m trapped.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Elijah
She’s not at her apartment, and I’m a human train wreck.
I pound on the door one more time. “Holly, answer me.”
There’s nothing but silence on the other side. No hint of a person avoiding me. No lights on, no TV on, nothing. No sign that she’s alive. What if they never let her go? What if she’s been tied to a chair like me for weeks? What if she died during one of the torture sessions?
I force the lock. It’s pathetic, and if she ever comes back here again I will personally come change the damn thing, but my suspicions are confirmed. Holly’s gone.
Fear cuts into my already bruised belly.
The confession I made was to free her, which means she should be here. In a city like this, there are a million reasons to leave your apartment. Doesn’t matter. Something’s off. Something’s wrong. She’s an author, for god’s sake. She works from home; she should be here.
I search through the unopened mail and takeout receipts until I find one with another address scribbled on it. Sushi, enough for two women to eat. It could be a loose lead, but I’m betting this will take me to her sister.
The trip to London’s apartment is as excruciating as the twenty-mile trek back into the city. The stolen shoes don’t fit my feet, and my skin bleeds from the rough terrain. I found a replacement shirt with long sleeves but no new pants. It explains the strangled gasp London makes when she opens her door. “What happened to you?”
“You shouldn’t be so quick to undo the lock. You never know who’ll be out here.”
London beckons me inside. It’s not necessarily a good idea to invite a guy like me into her apartment, but she’s determined, scanning the hallway in both directions before she shuts the door behind us. “Holly has been worried sick about you. Literally.”
Guilt burns a path through frozen skin. “Where is she?”
“She went to look for you.”
“What do you mean?” My blood runs cold at the thought of her in some Army office, asking questions that will get her in trouble. Or worse, in an airport hangar somewhere.
“There was some event. I told her not to go. I told her it was dangerous. But does anyone listen to me? No. I’m not even going to talk to Adam ever again.”
“Wait. Adam was here?”
“Yeah, I know you two have some kind of beef, but he seemed really shook up about the colonel being dead. He said that changed everything.”
“It does change everything. The colonel was Adam’s father.”
“What?”
“Where is this event?”
“It’s some fundraiser at a hotel with some big shot senator.”
Some senator. Jesus. I head for the door. “I’m going to kill that bastard for letting her step foot in that hotel. I’m going to do it right now.”
“I don’t think so.” London puts her body between me and the door, which is probably the most dangerous thing she’s ever done. It’s like standing between a caged lion and the exit. It’s asking to get her head crushed. “It’s some black-tie fundraiser.”
“And?”
“And you’ll never get through the door looking like a busted-up mountain man. Is that blood on your pants? Is it possible you were mauled by a bear on your way here? You look terrible.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, no. Get in the shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”
I normally don’t take orders from people like London Frank, but I can’t argue with her assessment. The shower is heaven and hell all at once. The hot water is heaven. The water on the scrapes and cuts is hell. Washing my hair is heaven. Putting my hands above shoulder level is hell. Life is a tapestry of bullshit.
The shower takes time I don’t have. When I come out of the bathroom London is waiting with menswear slung over one arm. I don’t even ask where she found a tux in her cardboard box of an apartment. “I think it’ll fit,” she says, eyes skimming over the cuts and bruises on my torso. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be going to a hospital?”
“Give me the clothes.”
I climb into them piece by piece, London standing by like a dressing room attendant. There’s a moment when I’m pulling the undershirt over my head that my cracked rib protests and I freeze, letting the pain run its course.
“Jesus,” she whispers.
“He had nothing to do with this.”
I finish dressing in the suit and step back into the bathroom. The man in the mirror is unrecognizable, and it’s not just because of the bruises on his face and the tight set of his jaw. I’m going to wear my teeth down to nubs if I don’t get some painkillers soon. But more painful by far than the beating is being apart from Holly.
More painful than that is the possibility that by going after her, I could put her in more danger.
That’s always been the way with us, hasn’t it?
No use fighting.
London pokes her head in. “I called you a car. It’s waiting outside.”
“Thanks.”
“You will protect Holly, won’t you?”
With any luck Holly won’t have gotten near the senator. Or maybe it’s another senator. There are ninety-nine others, after all. But I have a sinking feeling about this. Adam would know more about his father’s shady business than anyone else. If he’s determined to help Holly, if he decided to try and find me, he would know where to start looking.
I have the driver make a single stop on the way to the hotel.
When I get there, the fundraiser is in full swing.
No one looks twice at me as I move through the front doors. Every step is agony. It’s not the long-distance walk that did so much damage, it was the fact that I did it after getting the shit beat out of me.
Even Dax wouldn’t recommend a hike like that after a torture session.
I don’t see Adam in the ballroom, which is my first clue that Holly’s not where she’s supposed to be. A few guys mill in a side hall, looking into an overflow room.
One of them says something to the others, and then they’re on the move, heading quickly in the opposite direction.
I follow them.
Let this not be a distraction.
It’s up a floor to the parking garage. Two of them split off, going up, and one jogs into the rows of cars and disappears.
“I’m not going with you.” Holly’s voice echoes off the concrete supports and my heart seizes. It’s hard to tell which direction the sound is coming from so I start walking, trying to keep my footfalls light. “Let go of me.”
I walk faster.
I find her at the end of the row, another man’s hand locked around her upper arm. She has one palm braced on the frame of a car, the open door yawning next to her.
The senator increases the pressure on her arm and she cries out. “I’m still not going,” she says, fighting but not getting very far. “Let me go. I’ll scream.”
“Scream, then.” He’s impatient and he looks even worse than the last time I saw him. “My men are all over this parking garage. There’s no way in hell you’re getting free.”
I understand exactly how Holly felt at her apartment, the certainty that she felt when she shot the colonel, the determination to destroy everything that might hurt her. It’s no surprise that I love Holly. I think I’ve loved her since Italy, since France. I’ve loved her since the first time I kissed her in Paris, but the shock is that she loves me.
She risked everything to save me. That’s love.
I let out a battle cry and run toward them at full speed. The senator sees me. His eyes widen. He tries to turn so that Holly will be his human shield, but she chooses that moment to jab him in the stomach with her elbow. It keeps him off balance, and I throw him against the car. A punch to his chiseled jaw feels amazing. Another one to his stomach is cathartic. I don’t realize how far gone I am until Holly stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“He’s down,” she says softly.
Yes. He’s down. Unconscious. Battered and bloody. He’s not dead, though, and it would be so easy to twist his neck. More bodies lying in the colonel’s wake, and that means more danger to Holly.
I keep him alive.
Not because he deserves it, but because he’s more useful if we can threaten him with exposure to take the heat off our backs.
And maybe I keep him alive because I’m done being a killer.
There’s a final second of separation and then Holly is in my arms. It feels so good to have her there that I could die now and be happy. But no—I can’t die, because Holly is here, and her shoulders are shaking, and she needs me.
I’ll live forever. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll live forever so I never have to let her down.
It’s only when she tips her face to mine that I see she’s not crying. She’s shivering, probably from shock and cold, but her eyes are dry. Her hands work over my suit, touching and touching and touching like she doesn’t believe I’m here. I barely believe I’m here. She slips one hand around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. It hurts to be touched but I’ll be damned before I let her stop. I’ll go all the way to hell and back before I let her stop. I’ve been there before. I can make it out again.
“You came for me.” Her voice trembles with love and I’ve never heard anything as lovely. Never in my life. There’s trust there, trust that I don’t deserve but will take as long as she gives it to me. “You came for me, Elijah.”
“I’ll always come for you, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elijah
The last time I drove Holly to her apartment she was minutes away from being shot.
This time, we take a car and I’m glad for it. Not because I think there will be someone waiting there to shoot her again, though that’s always a possibility in this life. But because I can keep her pressed tight against me in the back seat, my arms locked over her. As soon as we pull away from the curb she curls toward the backseat and rests her head on my shoulder.
The driver doesn’t say a word.
At the door to her apartment my feet stop working. A threat was on the other side of this door. Part of me will always be in that room, watching her pull the trigger, just like part of me will always be down in the bottom of a well, waiting until it’s safe to climb out again.
I can feel her watching me.
“Home sweet home,” she says. Her dark eyes reflect back my own exhaustion and relief.
I wait for her while she takes her key out of her purse and turns it in the lock.
It’s obvious as soon as she steps across the threshold that we’re not alone.
All the lights are on, like my brother wanted to be sure I’d see him. He stands in Holly’s living room, looking for all the world like he’s in a business meeting at North Security. He has his phone pressed to his ear, one hand in his pocket. His face says you’re late.
Holly stops next to me and tosses her purse—a flat, small thing—onto a table by the doorway.
Liam ends his call, his green eyes flashing with relief when he sees us. “What do I have to do to convince you to stop sending yourself on reckless, dangerous, pointless missions that are only going to get you killed?”
Heat crawls up the outside of my neck, spurred on by old anger. “There wasn’t time to do an extensive risk assessment, Liam. I wasn’t sitting on my ass in a cushy leather chair, giving out orders while other people are in the field.”
He growls. “If you had kept working for North Security this never would have happened.”
“And leave Holly on the run? No, thank you.”
Holly steps to my side and puts an arm around my waist. It hurts even more now that the adrenaline has ebbed away, but I wouldn’t stop her for the world.
“The point is,” Liam goes on, “you’re a loose cannon. Every time you go off on another one of these suicide raids, it makes it harder for me to do what I’m trying to do. What I’ve finally succeeded in doing, no thanks to you.”
“Yes, you made your piles of money all by yourself. Are you here for a reason or just to piss me off? I never asked for a share in North Security. I never asked for a fucking thing from you. Which is just as well, because you taught me what to expect from you early on, when you left. Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.”
Liam looks like he might strangle me. Well, he’s too late. The time for strangling is long past. “I’m trying to tell you that there were other options. I took one of them. I’ve been in contact with representatives from three other allied countries, and every single one is putting pressure on the government to expose the colonel as a traitor. Once his secrets are out, the senator’s won’t be far behind. The news breaks tonight.”
Tonight has lasted forever, and when he says this, it stops some essential function of my brain. The news breaks tonight.
Holly’s brain still works.
“Elijah is exonerated?” She takes one tiny step toward Liam, like she can only believe him if she’s standing close enough. “We’ll both be exonerated? We’ll be free?”
“Yes.” Liam sighs, and for the first time I can see the toll this has taken on him. He’s all serious looks and expensive suits in his regular life. Right now, his face slips into an expression so familiar it makes my chest ache. “All the details have been leaked to the public. There are a few things left to be declassified, but that’s happening now. Right now.”
I don’t know what to say.
My skin doesn’t feel like my own skin. My body belongs to someone else. For so many years, I’ve been running and hiding and
putting myself in the darkest corners of the world. I thought I would always stay there. Until Holly, I thought that’s where I belonged.
After Holly, I knew there was no way out. Resurfacing was too dangerous for me, and it almost killed her. What Liam is saying now—
It means I could have a life.
A million futures spring into being in front of my eyes. They’re wild fantasies, and they only have two things in common: Holly by my side and the oldest possible jealousy.
Through an accident of birth order I was the last one left at home with my father.
Not a day has gone by when I haven’t resented my brothers for leaving. And worse—for staying together when I was alone.
Now they all work together in the same place. Meanwhile I’m as unemployed as a person can be. And yes, I do want a vacation. I do want some cottage on a lake with Holly. I do want to hear the reeds in the lake while we lay on the sand.
But I can’t be that person forever.
“You have options,” Liam says into the cavern of my thoughts. At first he sounds far away, like he’s calling down to me from the top of the well. “Take your time with it.”
My mouth feels dry. “Options.”
“Are you thinking of coming back to North Security?”
“Do you want me to?”
Wanting hits me at the speed of a bullet. It hits all the sensitive parts of me. All the cracks in the armor I’ve worn all my life. All of it crumbles like weak concrete. It’s payback for the years I spent denying that this jealousy and need existed. It’s a good thing Holly’s standing next to me, because if she weren’t, I think I’d fall to my knees on her apartment floor.
I want it so much.
I want it second only to wanting her.
It makes me a different man, a better man, when I work for my brothers. And with them. They’re proof positive that a person can climb out of a dark pit and make a life for themselves that’s not all mayhem and guilt.
Some mayhem, sure.
That comes with the territory when you work in security.
But there’s more.
