by Piper Lawson
As it presses into my flesh, the searing pain making me bite down hard.
I don’t have to look down to see blood trickle across my skin. I can feel it.
I can smell it.
“Stop!” Rae shouts.
Miraculously, Mischa does, turning to take her in.
Rae folds her arms. “Men are fickle. Five minutes ago, you wanted me.”
What the fuck is she playing at?
I want to tell her to stop talking. Almost as much as I want to drag her behind me.
“It’s true,” Mischa purrs. “You have other redeeming qualities. Ones we’ll get to once we’ve finished catching up.”
She gestures to the other men. “This is some fucked-up boys’ game, isn’t it? Harrison rejected you twenty years ago, and you’re still hurt over it. There’re no drugs—you’re just rich assholes fighting over your egos.”
His face tics in irritation. “You’re no queen. You’re a child. And the deal going down in this building tonight is bigger than you can imagine.”
He’s supremely confident, and that’s what she wants—to push him.
I inch toward her.
“Where are you going?” The guard twists my arm harder, stopping my progress and sending fiery pain from my shoulder socket down my spine.
I look down at my pocket. The phone is still there, mic tilted up. I pray to God the connection hasn’t been severed.
Rae’s lips curve. “What I imagine is that you’re a scared boy who’s ashamed he couldn’t do what his parents wanted by recruiting one single employee.” Dark brows draw together as she shifts onto the arm of the couch and crosses her legs. “And who had a weirdly personal thing for my boyfriend in high school—“
Mischa backhands her.
I wrench against the man holding me, the pain in my shoulder nothing compared to the panic in my chest. No.
Rae’s facedown on the couch until he grabs her hair and drags her up.
“It’s justice I want,” Mischa spits in her face. “The pound of flesh I’m owed.”
“You’ll take it from me,” I bark.
It’s enough of an interruption that he turns slowly. “Or from her, while you watch.”
Fear turns my gut into a block of ice before I can stop it. My breath is a shallow rasp echoing in my ears as I strain against my captor.
“On your knees.” Mischa’s words are for Raegan.
“Do you know how much these pants cost?” She’s bluffing, but I can hear the edge of fear in her voice.
Because I know her.
And I love her.
“You won’t be wearing them again,” he promises. “You won’t be wearing anything soon, and the only thing you’ll care about is saying my name when I fucking tell you to. If I let you breathe long enough to say it.”
He reaches for the buckle on his pants.
This room is squeezing the life out of me. I barely hear the crackle in my pocket because I’ve been reduced to watching the woman I love face down a villain she never should have met.
Raegan backs away from him, realizing his intention.
But she collides with a security guard, who forces her forward again.
“My patience is wearing thin,” Mischa gripes, turning to me. “You’ll get on your knees, and you’ll tell him to watch.”
Ideas of good and bad blur together. Of justice and vindication.
I hate him. But what comes through that hate is something bigger.
Love.
I love her, and it’s not about possession or control. It’s about the way she teaches me to see the world. Revenge is worth nothing—there’s no reason to fight for the past, but there’s every reason to fight for the future.
I’m going to get us out of this.
I’ll tear out of the security guard’s grip, lunge for Mischa.
But the men with the guns will get to me first.
Don’t care. I need to protect her.
“Harrison.” Her voice is steady, and I can hate everything in this room except those three fucking syllables from her perfect lips.
She’s held my gaze across a hundred rooms. I’ve always felt the strength of that connection, even if she was fighting me.
I’m coming, I say. I’m going to get us out of here.
But Raegan’s the one who opens her mouth and whispers, “Watch.”
I can’t make sense of the word until she shifts off the couch onto her knees.
No. No, this isn’t happening.
With a chuckle, Mischa works the zipper on his pants. He’s hard, and I want to throw up.
But her eyes are on me, and as I calculate my odds of kicking the guard behind me in the balls and making it out of here alive, her expression stops me.
I’m not watching. I’m listening.
Trust me.
We do this together.
It takes everything in me to stop fighting.
She reaches for his pants and drags them down to his ankles.
He grabs her hair, yanking her face back up to meet his gaze. “Faster.”
“Since you asked nicely.”
I hear something—the sound of voices in the hall.
Then the room erupts.
Rae’s hands move fast, and Mischa bellows in pain. Blood streams from his thigh, where Raegan’s buried the knife from his pocket.
I wrench out of the surprised guard’s hold, fighting the sickening pain in my shoulder, and lunge across the carpet.
I grab Mischa by the collar and hurl him toward the floor.
Mischa’s head cracks against the side of the coffee table, but it’s the gunfire behind me that splits the room.
I’m already diving to cover the woman kneeling on the floor.
30
Rae
The noise is deafening.
Not like a high-decibel sound system, machines made to produce music. This is the sound of machines made to produce destruction.
I can’t count the shots—five, at least. Some from the doorway and some from deeper in the room. Harrison grips my arms, covering every part of me with his body, pressing my cheek against the coarse carpet.
It’s too loud one second, too quiet the next.
I sneak a look between Harrison’s chin and shoulder and see men with badges and guns stream in.
They speak to one another in rapid-fire Spanish, and in my state, I only get one of every few words.
“We got the delivery,” an officer says in English to Harrison. “At the loading dock, hidden inside kegs of beer.”
The weight on me lifts. I can breathe again, though my lungs are slow to expand.
Harrison shoves himself to standing and holds out a hand. I rise to shaky feet and turn in a circle.
One of the security guards is down. The other is on his knees, being handcuffed by a man with a badge and a gun.
The other officers stand over two crumpled forms.
The peek of a red handkerchief matching the blood seeping into the carpet is enough to confirm it’s Mischa.
He’s not moving. Neither of them are.
My hands are covered in blood. I should be horrified, but all I feel is a grim numbness.
“Are you all right?” The familiar voice makes me flinch. “Raegan…”
Hands grip my arms. Harrison looks as if he was the one shot. His brows are a tight line, blue eyes stormy as he searches my face. I wrap my arms around myself, fingers sliding on the sheen of cold sweat.
He slips off his jacket, wincing, and slings it around me. My gaze shifts back to the lifeless forms.
An officer appears next to us. “The camera was brave. Or stupid. We couldn’t tell what was being said.” He turns to Harrison. “Good thing you had your cell phone on you. Audio was muffled, but between that and the video, we had enough to move.”
My gaze lifts to Harrison’s, but the officer continues. “We’re going to need statements from both of you. Ivanov might not be talking again, but based on what we got tonight, we should have en
ough evidence to implicate other senior people in his organization.”
“We’ll give statements at the station,” Harrison says. The officer appears ready to argue, but Harrison continues. “We have some things to resolve first.”
I head toward the door. In the hall, officers are directing upset patrons out of the venue. Fortunately, they seem in a hurry to leave.
“Raegan...” Harrison’s voice at my back has me stiffening.
I don’t want to talk right now. I can’t.
“We need to find Tyler and Annie and Beck and Ash.” I press through the thinning crowd, pulling out my phone and hitting a contact. Annie answers on the fourth ring.
“Where are you?” she shouts.
“Heading from the VIP rooms.”
“Are you okay? We heard gunshots.”
I cut a look over my shoulder to see Harrison’s grim face. “We’re not hurt.” Because that’s easier than telling her we’re not okay. “Where are you?”
“Backstage.”
“Wait, what?”
I’m pressed to the wall, moving in the opposite direction of traffic. I nearly get to one set of the double doors thrown wide to the open-air dance floor when a hand grabs my shoulder. I spin to find Eva, eyes wide.
“Where is he?” she asks.
“He’s dead.”
Her hands drop away. “Thank you.” Her hand rests on her flat stomach, and a piece clicks into place.
She’s pregnant.
I guess she decided enough was enough—if not for her, then for the family she could have. Her child doesn’t need to follow in his father’s footsteps.
The dance floor is wide open. It’s easy to cross to the stage, and by the time I reach the halfway point, I can spot the figures on stage.
“Annie?” I call.
My friend waves. Her husband stands next to her.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Harrison wanted a distraction to keep the crowd on the dance floor.” Elle drops off the stage. “So, Tyler took the mic to keep everyone here.”
The numbness around my heart thaws a little.
“Beck said he’d steer everyone out of the hall. Last I saw, there were dozens of people running his way. I haven’t seen him since,” Annie says.
Shit. The crowds tonight were thick. It’s one thing to be on stage, but Beck alone, trying to get attention without security… It could have been dangerous.
I try calling Beck’s number but get voicemail. I send off a text.
Rae: Are you okay? You went AWOL.
Dots appear.
Beck: I’m safe.
I heave a sigh of relief.
“Where’s my brother?” Harrison demands.
We all look at one another.
Rae: Ash is missing.
Harrison grunts. “I’ll call—“
I hold up a hand as dots appear again. The seconds tick by.
When the response comes, it’s shorter than I expected.
Beck: He’s here too.
My brows rise, but I show Harrison the message.
“You guys,” Annie calls before I can decide how to respond. We all turn to find her holding up her phone. “I know it’s been a long night, but before we leave… Group photo? I haven’t gotten out in months.”
31
Harrison
When I woke yesterday morning, my chest was tight with dread and Raegan was in my arms.
Today, the dread is gone. But so is she.
I’m in the guest bedroom, and I roll to one side, exhaling hard as I hit my shoulder, which hurts like someone ripped it from its socket.
Last night comes back to me in a rush.
Our friends headed directly back to their hotel from La Mer, but Raegan and I were at the police station until after five.
We answered questions independently. Somewhere along the line, a medic put five stitches in the cut in my chest and reset the shoulder that had been dislocated before my dive across the room.
After the police released us, Raegan and I drove home in near silence. Raegan took a shower in the guest bathroom, and I washed off in the en suite. After, I padded out to the hall to see if she was still in the bathroom—only to see the guest bedroom door closed.
I opened the door to find her lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I crawled in next to her, pulling her body to mine.
She hasn’t talked about what happened in that room. The way she kept her cool to gain the upper hand on Mischa in a way I couldn’t have was amazing. It might’ve given me a heart attack, but I respect her even more than before.
But as I lay next to her, I wondered…
How sure was she that someone was coming? Did she think we’d left her?
I’m relieved Mischa is dead. But witnessing her at his mercy, knowing I won’t forget it for a long fucking time, is a parting gift he would’ve appreciated.
The ache in my shoulder is nothing compared to how it felt to see her helpless in that room. That will linger on my soul.
Now, the door nudges wide.
I shift up on an elbow, hoping it’s her, but the top of Barney’s head and furry back appear as he pads to the bed. He noses at my hand and lifts hopeful eyes to my face.
Fuck, it’s impossible to be a dick to a dog.
After stroking his head, I get up and pad out into the hall.
The shower’s on—second one in twelve hours.
I want to talk to her, but accosting her while she scrubs extra blood from under her nails isn’t the right time.
I head down the hall to my room for clean clothes. Barney follows, and after, we head downstairs together.
My brother is already drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.
“How was your evening?” I ask.
Ash frowns. “Uneventful. Boring even.”
My brows lift.
“Relatively,” he adds.
I take the paper from him.
He’s not as pale as he was last week. Instead of being lethargic, his voice is light. His reactions are quick and irritated.
“I was a dick about you using,” I say.
He shifts an arm over the back of the next chair. “Is this some kind of ‘near death experience’ remorse?”
I grimace. “It should’ve been me helping you. Not Leni or Raegan.”
Sebastian studies me a long moment, then holds out a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I want to get my shit together. I will,” he vows.
I clasp his forearm.
“Brunch is at two down at the marina,” he says. “Tyler and Annie are bringing the baby.”
“Is Beck coming?” I ask.
An exasperated sigh. “How the fuck should I know?”
Natalia appears with a coffee, and I thank her as I drop into a chair. “Raegan’s upset. What happened in that room… I don’t blame her.”
“What did happen?” Sebastian asks.
I don’t want to talk it out, but I need to tell someone because it’s burning a hole in my gut. So, I tell him everything, struggling to get through a few parts.
“That’s intense.” He blows out a breath.
“I wanted to save her.” I pause, my coffee halfway to my lips, then set the cup back down. “It felt like I was the one on my knees.”
Noises behind us have Ash looking over my shoulder. “Morning, sunshine.”
I turn as Rae comes down the stairs wearing a T-shirt and denim shorts. I rise and hold a chair for her. She sinks into it.
“You were on fire last night,” Ash comments. “Have you checked out social yet?”
“Been busy.” But her lips twitch, and I’m grateful to my brother for reassuring me it’s still possible for her to smile.
Natalia brings her coffee and biscotti, and Raegan murmurs her thanks. My gaze runs over the bruise on her cheek as she breaks off a piece of cookie and holds it out to Barney, who devours it and eyes her like she’s the sun, moon, and stars.
Get in line.
Ash rises from his seat.
“Brunch this afternoon. With everyone down by the port. If you’re up to it.” Her gaze flits to mine, then away again.
Raegan doesn’t answer, and my brother shifts out of his seat and heads toward the door.
I can’t stand the distance between us. But when I cover her hand with mine, she flinches.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asks.
“It’s nothing.”
Not compared to what happened to her.
She looks away, and I grab her chair and drag it toward mine until she can’t avoid my gaze.
“It hurts, love. Is that what you want to hear? It aches, but the only thing I cared about last night, the only thing I care about now, is you.” I try to put my agony into words. “When I saw you in that room, I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I did everything I could to protect you. But underneath… I felt helpless. If he wasn’t dead already, I’d have killed him for touching you. The second I got free.” I grimace. “I didn’t expect you to be the one to do something fucking crazy. It took everything in me to hold back.”
Her gaze softens with compassion. “You waited?”
“You asked me to. And I told you, we’re a team, love.” I smooth back her hair from her face. “You’re brave and beautiful, and you came into my life like a storm and wouldn’t leave. You taught me there’s more to life than a list of assets bearing my name or a team of people in my employ.
“You reminded me that damaged people can still love. You tried to take down a Russian drug dealer. Unassisted. Fuck. If you need space after last night, I will give it to you. But I won’t pretend I want to be anywhere other than where you are. I won’t tell you I’m not jealous Barney got to lick your hand just now.”
Her eyes glaze over, her lips parting. Every second she’s silent leaves me ripped in two.
“You want to lick my hand?” she asks at last.
I exhale a half laugh. “I want to lick you everywhere.” My heart hammers against my ribs. “How was it? Your set, I mean.”
There’s a spark behind her eyes, signs of life returning. “Incredible. The crowd was so into it. I felt like a priestess, Harrison. At the altar of the most awe-inspiring ceremony.”
