by S. L. Scott
The sun set while she was gone, leaving my world darker than how she left it. Lights are dotted across a sea of skyscrapers, but she stands as a testament to how bright my world can be with long silky strands that lead to the curve of her waist and toned legs under black leggings that dip out from a dark gray tee.
I could happily come home to this sight on a regular basis. Crossing the room, she looks back with blue eyes, black lashes, and happiness written across her face. “The spa had a version of warrior blue for my nails,” she says, waggling her fingers. The color of her nails is just shy of midnight. I like how she admires them. Gives me more time to admire her.
“Warrior blue, huh? Very nice.” When I wrap my arms around her middle, she leans forward, resting against me.
“I’m sorry I worried you. I thought being with the girls in the building . . . I don’t know what I thought. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch sight of a flicker above her head, and when I look out the window, it’s just in time to catch it again. I narrow my gaze to home in but there’s no flash. “It’s okay. I let my mind get away from me under the current conditions.”
She raises her arms around my neck. With the glass in one hand, she curls the other around my nape, looking up at me. “How long do we get to pretend that we can stay here forever?”
“Another day?”
It’s the slightest of nods, but I see enough. “Just a little more time. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Does she not see how much I like her being here, how I try for restraint when all I want to be is inside her, touching her, kissing her until her lips swell from pink to red? “I could keep you here forever if you want.”
“What if you lose interest?”
“I know when I have something good.”
“And you see me as good?”
Pushing my fingers through her hair, I caress the back of her head. “I see you as a part of—” The explosion is deafening, the window cracking against the pressure as I spin, shielding her behind me. “Run!”
“Where?”
Another flash in the distance and a shot is fired. I grab her arm and sprint for the exit. The glass splinters across the panel, and when I open the front door, it explodes behind us. “Run to Hutton’s.”
We run, and I land hard against their door. Typing in the code, the lock is released, and I burst inside. “Ally? Hutton?”
Panicked, Winter says, “I left her at Singer’s.”
“Hutton?” I shout once more, but there’s no answer in return. “Elevator.”
We run back to the hall and I flatten my palm, activating the black pad and an alarm. When the door slides open, I pull her in, and type the code to close it. “Get in.”
Inside the elevator, she asks, “Is it safe?”
“The safest place we can be until we get downstairs.” I grab my phone and type: Code five. Penthouse. “Was Ethan home?”
“No.”
I press the button for the top floor and then text: Abort. I’m going in.
“What’s going on?” She cries, huddling in the corner.
“When the door opens, do not leave the elevator. Stay to the side so no one can see you.”
“Bennett?”
“Three. Two.” The door slides open. “One.” With my arm stretched out, protecting her, I lean back just in case there’s gunfire or an attack. When we’re greeted with silence, I run down the hall. “Singer?”
She comes running around the corner, and I catch her in my arms. “The alarm sounded.”
“We have to get out of here.” She grabs her purse from a table as she runs to the safety of the elevator. “Where’s Ally?”
“She went home.”
“Fuck! We just looked for her.” I press the code, and the door shuts again.
Looking at me, she asks, “What’s happening?”
She moves to the corner with Winter and wraps her arm around her just as Winter starts sliding to the floor terrified. “It’ll be okay,” Singer whispers to her.
The elevator stops back on my floor, and the door opens. “Ally!”
Ally gets in, soaking hair and in a short bathrobe. When I press for the door to close, she says, “I was taking a shower.”
“You’re in one piece?” I ask.
“I’m okay.” She and Singer hug each other. “I’m glad Hutton’s at work.”
“I’m sure he’s already left.” I am never going to hear the end of this. My brothers will be fucking maniacs to deal with.
The speaker in the elevator beeps once, and Lars’s voice comes through. “Is anyone injured?”
I look at them, doing a quick assessment. “No.”
“The penthouse and your floor are on code five. The elevator will come straight to the second floor where I’ll be waiting.”
Singer’s phone rings. Her voice is shaking when she answers, “Ethan?”
When tears start rolling down her cheeks, I take the phone from her. “She’s fine. We’re heading to the panic room.”
“What’s going on?” His breath is puffing. He must be running.
“You can’t come here.”
“Bullshit. If my wife’s there, I’m there. Tell me what happened?”
“My apartment. Three rounds. The glass held long enough for us to get out.”
“Fuck!” His shout echoes through my ear and probably half of Manhattan. I hold the phone away reflexively.
His anger is palpable but not stronger than mine. I catch Winter’s eyes glued to mine and reach for her, but the elevator stops. “We’re here.” I disconnect and hand Singer the phone. Reaching down, I help Winter up, holding tight to her hand.
Lars is waiting with two men behind him. While he faces us, they’re turned away, armed and on guard. “We’re not detecting any activity from the outside or on the top floors. Go in,” he commands. Singer, Ally, and Winter rush out of the elevator and into the panic room. I trail them into the state-of-the-art, full metal and concrete-built compound. As soon as Lars closes the vaulted door behind us, I see Winter stop.
Standing in the middle of the room, Winter looks around, and says, “Oh my God! No!”
28
Bennett
Singer and Ally have been here a time or two. An attack on the building hasn’t happened but once before, but we’ve had several false alarms, so they’re familiar with the shelter.
The way the panic room is set up, it can serve as an apartment for all of us for up to four months. After that, oxygen and food get rationed for one more month. If Manhattan is bombed, this shelter will survive.
As for Winter, who’s trembling like a leaf, I go to her and bend down to look her in the eyes. “We’re okay. You are all right. Try to take a deep breath.” She hangs on every word, her grip on my arms tightens and her nails begin to dig in. “Breathe, ma chérie.”
Her lashes are clinging together under the weight of her tears. “What is this place?” Taking another deep breath, she exhales slowly.
I can hear Ally talking to Hutton and Singer to Ethan, both of them taking to opposite sides of the large living space. Knowing they’re safe, I turn my focus back to Winter. “It’s a panic room. For safety.”
“This isn’t a room.” Her nails loosen from my skin, and she begins a slow scan. “This is an underground prison.”
“It’s not a prison.”
“We’re locked in here, right?” She rushes toward the door and tugs on the handle.
“We are. For safety.”
“You keep saying that. Stop saying for safety.” Pulling as hard as she can, she raises her voice. “I want out. Get me out, Bennett.”
“Not until we get the all clear.” I go to her, but she slaps my hand away.
“Open the damn door!”
“Calm down.” Her eyes are crazed, her pupils wide. “What’s wrong, Winter?”
“I want out. Now!” She puts her feet on the door for leverage and pulls back the handle as hard as she
can. Her feet drop, and she yanks again, her body shaking with desperation. “Let me out!”
Holy shit. “Are you claustrophobic?” What do I do? I run and grab her around the waist, her body flailing and hitting my arms as she screams at me to release her. When I do, she falls to the ground and curls over her body. Her head tucks down over her knees, and her body stills under the trembling.
When I touch her back, her arm flies out to push me away, so I leave her be, turning to look behind me. Singer puts her hands out for me to stay put. Ally comes with her. They don’t look stressed or panicked like how I feel inside. Helpless to help Winter.
Slowly, they ball up on either side of her. They don’t touch her or say anything. They just match their breathing to her lengthening breaths.
The sound is all we hear for a minute before Singer looks up and nods at me. I move in, not sure what to do and not wanting to upset Winter. Squatting in front of her, I wait until she looks up, her body following suit as she sits on her legs bent under her.
Winter may have tucked away in terror for only a minute, but it felt like an hour. I know McCoy’s to blame. Fuck. What did he do to her?
When she looks at me, I see the horror of humiliation filling those beautiful baby blues. Caressing her chin, I run my thumb over her cheek, and say, “Don’t cry.”
She sits up, and I swoop in to catch her. Her arms come around my neck, and I lift her, kissing the side of her head as I carry her to a couch. With her head resting on my shoulder, I sit, cradling her to me.
Her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see Ally or Singer getting up and giving us privacy when they disappear into one of the bedrooms. Resting my hand on her neck, I try to check her pulse without her getting wind of the covert operation. It’s calming, which is good, so I kiss her forehead.
She says, “I was packed in a crate.”
My heart rate spikes from the confession, but I’m not sure where to go with this. As if it will make a difference, I whisper, “When?”
“The night I was taken to Paris.”
“Kidnapped,” I correct.
She lifts her head, but her arms don’t loosen. “Kidnapped,” she says so softly like the idea itself is unfathomable. “He drugged me and shoved me in a crate. A crate . . .”
“Fuck.” He’s a dead man.
“I woke up, Bennett. I woke up and realized I was in a box with very little air on a private plane, not nice like yours. It didn’t haul people, and it smelled.”
I hold her tighter, my apologies built in every touch. How could she survive that and come out the other side? She did. She is still doing it.
“I found light in the bottom corner and wedged myself, so my mouth was as close to that pinhole as possible, but it hurt too much to stay that way.”
“Winter?” Her eyes look up, and I can finally see the peace she has with me returning. “How did you survive?”
“I begged for my life. The lock was removed, and I was taken to the bathroom to relieve myself as if I hadn’t already. I had no choice. The fear was too great.”
“Was that sick fucker there?”
“No. When I saw the interior of the plane—dirt, grime, other crates—and the men on it, I thought I was going to die.” I wish I could erase that memory. And then I want to kill the men who did this to her. Every last fucking one of them. “They groped me. The harder I fought, the more it entertained them. I remember wondering if they would stop if I gave in, or would they take more. Would they take all of me?”
“What did you do?”
“I continued to fight. I’m too stubborn to give them the pleasure of my death.” A small smirk shines, reaching her eyes. “Fuckers.”
My girl is a beautiful badass. “You’re incredible.”
She sighs, the devious glint in her eyes now gone. “They grabbed me from behind, though, and covered my mouth. I was shoved back into the crate just as I passed out. Four against one. Not great odds.”
“Did they . . .?”
“No. They knew better.”
Stretching her neck to the side, the Winter I know emerges, and she eases off my lap, taking a deep breath. I stay seated, and ask, “What does that mean?”
“I was Kurt’s property. I still might be. I don’t know. What I do know is that nobody touches Kurt’s belongings without paying the price.” She starts looking around and spies the kitchen. “Water?”
“I’ll get it.” We walk into the small sectioned-off space together, and I pull a bottle from the fridge. I twist the cap and give her one while I take another. She’s rattled, the aftereffects of the attack upstairs and her panic attack here wearing off. I drink half my water when she drinks.
Leaning against the counter, she says, “Kurt knew we slept together.”
“How?” I finish the water, trying but struggling to keep my anger controlled. Squeezing the bottle, I crush the plastic in my hand.
Winter pauses and then wraps her hands around mine that’s still holding the bottle. She doesn’t need more worries. I lower my shoulders and keep the fury hidden inside. Predicting it’s safe to proceed, she says, “He followed us and he had photos.”
Photos—Shit. “Of us?” Am I the reason he beat her?
“At the park, not from your room,” she replies as if that’s better. I haven’t asked if he touched her, but I can’t move on without knowing.
“He hit you . . . I’ll never forgive myself for letting you leave that night.”
“You couldn’t have stopped me. Stubborn, remember?”
She’s letting me off the hook, but imagining what she went through, picturing him touching her, hitting her . . . I raise my fist up to punch the wall, but she steps in front of me. “Bennett.”
My fist shakes in the air, my anger needing a release. She reaches up, and as she did before, she embraces my hand and then lowers it. “It’s a concrete wall. I don’t want you to ever feel pain because of Kurt.”
“Too late.”
“No. It’s not. Together, we can fight through this.”
“Together.” Together. I let it sink in. Hearing her say the word, hearing her talk about a future together starts to diminish my hate with her love. I hug her and kiss the top of her head. “Together.”
“I’ve been thinking about that night.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you didn’t chase after me. You were naked, after all. I would have worried about you freezing off your good parts.”
“My good parts?” I laugh. My quirky, funny girl knows how to ease the tension in a room. “Now’s not the time to argue that I have a sparkling personality and a smile that has made you weak in the knees.”
“Very true. You have a talented tongue too.”
“You must be speaking of my conversational skills,” I tease.
“Not at all, though I can credit you there as well.”
She takes my hand and twirls under it. When she stops, she’s facing me again, so I lean down and kiss her neck. “You’re no one’s property. Not ever.”
Her hands were roaming the front of my body, but stop on my shoulders and pull me close. “Not even yours?”
“Not even mine.” Disappointment causes her shoulders to slump. I can’t take seeing her sad. “Don’t doubt how much I care about you. My heart is already yours, and I’ve called you mine, but you’ll always be free.”
“I don’t want to be anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want to be yours, Bennett.” There’s a plea in her tone, a fear in her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere, Winter, but—”
“But? Don’t say but. It’s been amazing this last week.”
“A week. Yes,” I reply, rubbing my hand over my jaw once. “I see you in my life, and I want you to be a part of it. But a lot is still unsettled, and we’ll never be free to be together how we want until it is.”
“Kurt?” That fucker won’t be a problem for much longer.
Her father crosses my mind, the t
ruth scraping across my tongue. “And your family.”
She crosses the room and sits on the couch. “I don’t ever want to see either of them again.”
When I sit, I pull her legs across my lap. Rubbing her shins, I say, “I’ll support whatever you decide.”
“I’ve decided.” She smiles. “I’ve never dated anyone like you. You truly support me.”
“That’s the difference between me and those assholes.”
“You have more differences than that.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
Touching my cheek, she says, “This face can’t be beat.”
“Tell that to Joey Kendall in the fourth grade.”
That makes her smile. “You, sir, are hands down the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. But it’s not your face that has me falling. It’s your heart. Let me ask you, Monsieur Everest. Is it made of gold or steel?”
“Depends on the day.”
“Today?”
“Steel because I want to protect you like the walls around us.”
“And tomorrow?”
I drag her onto my lap, making her laugh. Holding her waist, I shift her onto her back and lean over her. I kiss her delectable lips once, twice, and then reply, “Gold, because although I’ll never own you, don’t ever doubt that you’re mine.”
29
Winter
Bennett has become so ingrained into my life in such a short time that I think we missed a few steps along the way. Does it matter? Would this happening over months or years bring us closer than we are now? Or have these tragic events linked us inexplicably?
The cogs click as the bolt releases, and the vault door opens. Ethan rushes in with Hutton, their wives running into their arms. I lean my back against Bennett, out of the way.
His hand clasps around mine, and then he leads me to the door, but Hutton stops him. Although he’s still hugging Ally, he holds a hand out. “Thank you.”
“No need.” Bennett glances at me and then shakes his brother’s hand. “We clear?”
“No. We’ll be driven to different locations tonight.”
