After Ava drifted off, I still had a hard time falling asleep because Leonard’s murder was running through my head on repeat. He was such a good man, and he didn’t have to die. I’m really fucking angry over it. I watched too many people die needlessly in war. Hawthorne is a place of healing, and those hired guns eroded the safety patients feel within its walls.
That’s why I gently ease myself away from Ava, setting aside my desire for her. I have to get Dax’s book so we can meet up with my friend Sam tonight and turn it over.
She sits up and looks at me, her dark hair a beautiful mess. My cock stiffens at the sight of her round, perfect breasts. I love how confident she is, not covering herself with a sheet, just letting me look my fill.
As if I could ever be full of her.
“See something you like?” she asks softly.
I smile and grab a T-shirt from the bag of clothes on the dresser, ripping the tag off. “If I get back in that bed, I won’t get out until tomorrow.”
She groans and steps out of the bed. “I know. And as heavenly as that sounds, I guess we need to get on the road.”
I can’t take my eyes off her as she stretches her arms upward and walks to the bathroom. Everything about her is smooth, soft, and sexy. I’d really love to feel her sweet little body on top of me again before we leave. She rode me like a fucking porn star earlier, digging her nails into my skin as she came.
But I can’t think about that now. I’ve got to keep my mind on getting the book. Well, first some coffee, then the book.
I put on my jeans, brush my teeth, and tame my morning hair. Ava dresses, brushes her teeth, and pulls her hair back into a ponytail. There’s a catch in my throat as she smiles at me from across the room. She’s just packing our clothes into a plastic Target bag, but the look on her face is one I’ll never forget. She looks content and hopeful. She’s girl-next-door gorgeous, and her smile is for me. It was me who fucked her into contentedness and gave her hope of justice for Allison’s and Leonard’s murders. And I won’t let her down. Whatever it takes, I won’t see her disappointed. Not now. Not ever.
We hit a drive-thru for sandwiches, and I get the coffee I’m craving. I’m feeling pensive as I get back on the road to Chicago.
The care I feel for Ava stirs up memories of my relationship with my ex-wife. My love for Julie developed over time. We drifted into love as we got to know each other. This thing with Ava feels more like falling hard and fast, with no regard for how unlikely it is we can be together long-term.
I can’t see a scenario in which we work out. If I get fired, which is probable, I’ll have to get a job somewhere else. If she gets discharged, which is also probable given the progress she’s made, she’ll have to move somewhere else.
But how do I go back now?
“I was a bad husband,” I say out of nowhere, both to Ava and to myself.
“How so?”
I sigh softly. “I put work first. Residency is demanding, but I worked harder than I had to. I wasn’t there for Julie.”
“Did she tell you she needed more from you?”
“Yeah. And the more she complained about it, the further I withdrew. I felt like I was in a pressure cooker. There weren’t enough hours in the day to be the doctor, husband, and father I wanted to be.”
“Is that when she left you?”
I shake my head. “No. First, she started having an affair with one of our coworkers. A cardiac surgeon.”
Ava makes a soft sound of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I glance at her, then quickly back at the road. “Julie was lonely, and I was too wrapped up in my work to care. I’m not saying I deserved it, but . . .” I shrug. “I guess I did deserve it.”
“No one deserves that.”
I shift in my seat, the memories making me uncomfortable. “After she left with Caleb, that’s when I started drinking. I’d have a drink occasionally before that, but I started drinking heavily. I wasn’t able to cope with my feelings of failure.”
“How did that affect your work?”
Regret swells inside me, so powerful I have to force it back. “It wasn’t good.”
She reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, silently reassuring me.
“People put me on a pedestal at Hawthorne,” I say. “But I don’t deserve it.”
“Sure you do.”
I shake my head. “I’ve made mistakes, Ava. Big mistakes. The guy you met back in Montana, the infallible doctor, he doesn’t really exist.”
“I don’t think you’re infallible.”
“But you see me as . . . capable.”
“More than capable.” The warmth in her voice reaffirms my concerns.
“I like the way you look at me,” I admit. “Like I hung the moon.”
“To me, you did. And I like the way you look at me. Like I’m all right just the way I am.”
I balk at that. “You’re so much more than ‘all right.’ You’re perfect.”
“I’m not, though,” she says softly.
“Perfect in my eyes.”
I take her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it. I need to tell her the whole truth about me. She deserves to have the last piece to my puzzle. But I’m selfishly going to hang on to her adoration for me a little longer.
We make it to the Chicago suburbs a little after three in the afternoon, and I take Ava to a hotel, where we’ll stay tonight. I walk her to the room, and she gives me a piece of paper with the address of the Brighton Cole offices on it.
“Don’t be long, Dr. Lumberjack,” she says as I turn toward the door.
“I won’t.” I smile and take one last look at her. “Lock up behind me.”
I wait outside the door to make sure I hear her locking the deadbolt. Then I set out for the city, where the traffic reminds me of life in LA. I already miss the wide-open sky and quiet of the Hawthorne property. I hope Tillman’s holding down the fort.
Brighton Cole’s offices are downtown in a skyscraper. The entire second floor belongs to the company, and I’m immediately impressed when I step off the elevator.
It’s a large, open office with floor-to-ceiling windows. Desks and partially dressed mannequins are scattered around the room. The walls are painted a bright shade of orange.
“Can I help you?” a woman at a reception desk asks.
She’s young and well-dressed, wearing a dark green blouse with her hair pulled up. I don’t miss her inspection of the ink on my arms.
“I’m here to see Madeline Brighton.”
Her smile tells me I must be new here. “I’m sorry, Miss Brighton is—”
“It’s about Allison Cole. I don’t need long.”
The receptionist’s eyes fill with sadness. She glances over at a wall of offices and then down at the phone on her desk. “Let me see if she’s off her call.”
She picks up the phone and relays the message to Madeline, who apparently tells her to send me right in.
“Last door,” the receptionist says, pointing.
I hear chatter about hemlines, boots, and purchase orders on my way back to Madeline’s office. This seems like a laid-back, creative environment, but it’s hard for me to picture Ava here.
Madeline is waiting at the door when I get to her office. She steps aside and I walk in.
She’s got shoulder-length blond hair, and she’s wearing a black pencil skirt with a matching jacket. I try to picture Ava in the outfit, but I just can’t.
“Madeline Brighton,” she says, closing the door and offering me her hand.
“Hi, I’m Daniel Delgado.” I shake her hand, and she gestures at a leather chair in front of her desk. I sit down.
“I’m a friend of Allison’s,” I say.
“How is she? Is she still in New York with Maggie?”
I shake my head, wishing I had thought about my answers to questions like this before I got here. “She’s doing well. She left New York and is just doing some R and R right now.”
“Good. I
’ve been worried about her. We all have. What happened to Ava was just . . .” She looks out the wall of windows and clears her throat. “It was awful. I miss her.”
“I’m sure.”
She turns to look at me. “Did you ever meet Ava?”
I’ve got no choice but to lie. “No, I didn’t.”
Madeline smiles. “She was like . . . a light. A bright light that never goes out. Always thinking, always innovating. You don’t really think a light like that can ever be dimmed, and then when it’s just gone . . .” She sniffs and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come here to hear me talk. Is there something I can do for Allison?”
“Yeah, actually. She said Ava told her that you’re keeping some stuff in your safe for her. Allison would like those things.”
Madeline’s brow furrows with concern. “I sent the will and life insurance stuff to Ava’s attorney a few weeks after she died. I didn’t know what else to do with them.”
“Okay. What about the book?”
Madeline leans her elbows on her desk. “The book?”
She knows what I’m talking about. I can see it on her face.
“Yes. The one Ava gave you the day before she was murdered. It’s black.”
She nods. “Right. Well, like I said, I tried to send Ava’s stuff to the right place after she died. I didn’t see any reason for me to keep it.”
“So Ava’s attorney has the book, too?”
“No.” Madeline meets my eyes, and I swear I see a flicker of challenge. “I gave the book back to Dax since it was his.”
THE SLIDE AND BEEP OF Daniel running his key card through the reader on the hotel room door makes my pulse speed up, even though I knew he was coming. He texted me that he was in the parking lot and on his way up a couple minutes ago, so I unlocked the deadbolt. He was only gone a couple hours, but I missed him.
I get up from the chair I was sitting in and meet him halfway across the room. His lips are set in a thin line of disappointment.
“What happened?” I ask, deflating.
“She doesn’t have it.”
I just stare at him for a second, dumbfounded, and then a wave of dizziness hits. “Doesn’t have it? How can she not have it? I gave it to her. I watched her put it in her safe.”
Daniel puts an arm around my waist and walks me to the edge of the bed, where we both sit down.
“I’m sorry,” he says, taking my hand.
I shake my head, still not understanding what’s happening. “Where’s the book? I need that book, or I have nothing on Dax.” My voice is high and frantic.
“There’s no easy way to say this. She gave the book to Dax.”
“What?” I shrink back, bile rising up my throat.
“She said she sent your stuff where she thought it should go after . . . your death. Your attorney has the will and insurance stuff, and Dax has the book.”
“But I never told her it was his. I didn’t tell her a single thing about that fucking book. I just told her it was important.”
I bury my face in my hands and let the tears take over. This is what I get for having hope. Being punched in the stomach would hurt less than this.
Daniel puts his arm around my back and pulls me against him. I cry like I never have before. My shoulders shake with sobs and snot drips from my nose, but who fucking cares?
I’ve never felt so hopeless. Allison was viciously murdered before my eyes. She knew she was dying. She died suffering and struggling to breathe on my kitchen floor. She died in my place.
And the only leverage I have on Dax is gone. How could Madeline give it back to him? The thought sends a sick chill down my spine. She read it. Just that was a violation. But to return it to him when I was murdered a day after I asked her to keep it safe?
That’s more than a violation. My sadness morphs into anger that quickly becomes full-on rage.
“Where are the guns?” I ask Daniel, sitting up and meeting his eyes.
“Why?”
“Where are they, Daniel?” My voice is nasally from crying. I reach for a tissue on the nightstand and wipe my nose.
“The guns are safe. And since I’m the only one of us who knows how to use them, why do you need to know where they’re at?”
“That book was my only shot at getting Dax sent to prison. And the thing about realizing I want to be alive is that I know I can’t live a life where there’s no justice for what he did to Allison.”
“So you want to kill Dax.”
I nod. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I also want the guy who . . . who . . .” I’m crying again, and I can’t speak past the lump in my throat. I take a deep breath and continue. “The one who killed her. He deserves to die, too.”
“He does. So does Dax.” Daniel squeezes my hand. “But that would go bad, Ava. You’d end up dead before you could even get your finger on the trigger. I can’t let that happen.”
“It’s not up to you.”
“I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but let’s just let it settle and talk over our options.”
I stand up, clenching my fists at my sides. “There are no options! There’s only one thing left. And if Dax kills me before I can kill him, at least he’ll go to prison for that. I’m not afraid of dying. If I die avenging my sister, I’ll die in peace.”
Daniel stands up and pulls me into his arms. I push on his chest, resisting the comfort. I don’t want comfort now. I only want the fury that will fuel me to act and finally end this. Dax has been living these past few months, drinking and eating and fucking his way through life while Allison rots in the ground and I live through hell. No more.
“Come on,” Daniel says softly. “Hey. It’s okay.”
I have no hope of pushing free of his embrace. It feels good to fight it, though. To have something to shove and curse and be angry at. My hands only meet hard muscle that doesn’t even flinch under my punching and scratching.
“Why would she do that to me?” I bury my face against his chest and scream into his shirt. “Who can I even trust anymore?”
“Me.” Daniel holds me tight, and I go limp against him. “You can trust me, Ava.”
“Let me do this,” I say softly. “Give me some money and a gun, and get in the truck and drive back to Hawthorne. I don’t want you around when I do this.”
“You’re not doing it.” He smooths my hair and kisses my temple. “And I’m not going anywhere. We’re meeting Sam at seven tonight.”
I lean back and look up at him. “Why? We don’t have the book to give him.”
“Just to consider options.” He cups my face in his huge hands. “Trust me, okay? We’ve got the advantage here. We just need to be smart.”
“How do we have the advantage when he has the book?”
Daniel leans his forehead against mine. “We’re the only ones who know you’re still alive. We’re going to talk over our options, make some plans, and even wait if we have to. I’ll break in to his house and steal the fucking book if I have to.”
“You really think we can still do this?”
“We’ll figure something out. I promise.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He leans his head back until our eyes are locked. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ve never broken my word to you, and I never will.”
“I know.” I smile as he brushes the tears from under my eyes. “And I’ll never break my word to you, either.”
He turns to look at the clock. “We need to leave for dinner in half an hour.” After leaning in to kiss me, he smiles. “How can we get you relaxed by then?”
My stomach flips with excitement. “Show me what you’ve got, Dr. Lumberjack.”
His laugh is low and sexy. “You know what I’ve got, Miss Cole. But I haven’t even begun to show you what I can do with it.”
DANIEL RELAXED ME very well—twice, and I’m feeling a little less homicidal when we walk into an Italian rest
aurant near our hotel.
A muscular man with close-cropped blond hair approaches Daniel with a grin. They give each other a man hug, complete with back slaps and wry insults.
“You forget the rest of your hair back at the office, suit?” Daniel jabs at Sam.
“Fuck off, man. I see some silver in your temples.”
Sam’s wearing a dress shirt and tie, his biceps testing his shirt’s limits. He turns to me with a warm smile.
“It’s great to meet you, Allison,” he says softly. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He shakes my hand, and I immediately like him. We’re led to a table in the back, and I just enjoy listening to the two men catch up for a few minutes. I’ve only seen Daniel in doctor-patient interactions at Hawthorne, and I like this relaxed, unguarded side of him. His smile is easy and he laughs. When he puts his arm around my shoulders, I feel like some of his warm demeanor seeps into me, wearing away at my urge to take out Dax immediately no matter the cost.
I still want him dead or locked up. But Daniel’s right—we need to be smart about it.
After the small talk is done and we’ve all ordered, Daniel rubs my shoulder reassuringly and clears his throat. I think it’s time to do what we discussed on the way here.
“Uh, Sam,” he says. “There’s something you need to know, but it has to stay between the three of us.”
Sam lowers his brows and nods. “If it involves laws being broken, don’t tell me.”
“It doesn’t.” Daniel turns to me. “I trust this guy with my life. You can tell him.”
My heart hammers nervously as I get up from my chair, walk over to Sam’s side of the table, and sit down beside him. I lean in close and relay the truth of my identity in a hushed tone. His breath catches when I tell him who I really am.
“No fucking way,” he says in a low tone.
When I’m finished and I lean back over to the seat, he meets my gaze, sympathy etched on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
Daniel jumps in, speaking in the same near-whisper Sam and I are. “Don’t call her by name or say anything that could—”
Come Closer Page 15
