by Jane Henry
Xavier nodded, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I’ll contact the District Attorney.”
“You know someone in the DA’s office who can pull strings for you?” I asked, just slightly horrified. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that justice was always meted out, but I liked to believe that the whole system wasn’t corrupt.
Xavier looked at me blankly. “No. I know the District Attorney, himself. Hell, I contributed enough to his election campaign that he should be naming his children after me.”
I sighed.
“Uh, guys,” Walker said, a tension in his voice that boded nothing good. “I found out where Luis is being held but, uh, he might not be there much longer. He’s got an appeal scheduled in approximately seventy-two hours, and he’s going to be transferred prior to that.”
Ethan and I exchanged a glance, then he looked at Xavier. “So it has to be today.”
Xavier shook his head and sighed. “I see I’ll be cancelling my appearance at the film festival tonight. The paparazzi would love to know where I obtained my injuries.”
Ethan winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, given how hard your head is, I’m more likely to break my hand than your face.”
“You mean,” Sabrina said in shock, “that you’re actually going to hit him? Not use makeup or something?”
“Babe, it needs to be the real deal if he’s making a charge,” Anson told her. “Ethan’s knuckles need to be beat up, and Xavier’s face has to swell. It’s not gonna kill him.”
“Truly, your sympathy means everything, Daly,” Xavier said wryly, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I notice you not volunteering.”
“Hey, not my fault nobody cares about this face but my girl,” Anson laughed, cupping his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he pulled a smiling Sabrina into his side. “You’ve got the million-dollar moneymaker, X.”
“And so I do. Alright,” Xavier sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” He glared at Ethan for a second. “Do you think it would add verisimilitude if I were to punch you back a time or two?”
“No,” I interjected quickly. “You’d hate for it to get out that you were brawling. Better that you were attacked while innocently doing your daily works of charity.”
Xavier met my eyes, and his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile. “I can see why you’re an excellent defense attorney, Ms. Wright.” He shook his head as he left the room.
“Got the location, X,” Walker called, grabbing his tablet and rushing after him.
Anson stood too, holding out his hand to help Sabrina from her chair. “Hey, Ethan. Sabrina will bake you a cake while you’re in there,” he offered.
“Sure,” Sabrina agreed. “Whatever kind you want.”
Ethan looked amused. “And what will you do? Eat it for me?”
“Nah, man,” Anson said, shaking his head. I could see worry bleed into his eyes for just a second before he covered it with a broad smile. “I’ll put the file inside, like in an old movie.”
“Thanks,” Ethan told him, and Anson nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but in the end, he took Sabrina’s hand and left the room.
“I don’t need to see you hitting Xavier,” Caelan said. “I’ll go get the van ready.” He stood up, then hesitated. “Hey, uh… Arm straight, hit with the knuckles. Thumb curled under your fingers, not tucked inside. And for God’s sake, don’t aim for his nose, or we’ll never hear the end of it, okay?” He walked around me and paused by Ethan’s chair, laying his enormous hand on Ethan’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “It’s a brave thing you’re doing, man. Remember that, if there comes a time when you doubt.”
Ethan nodded again. “Thanks, Caelan.”
“You let me know if you need anything while he’s gone, Ms. Wright,” he told me with a wink, and then Caelan, too, disappeared, leaving me with Ethan. The man I’d loved. The man who was a perfect stranger.
He turned to me. “So, it looks like my life is going to be in your hands, counselor,” he joked. “You’ll have all the power. Won’t that be a kick?”
I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but I couldn’t find any humor in this. “I don’t want it,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not this way.” I paused, then confessed, “I wish there was another way. Any other way. Please, Ethan, just… reconsider. There are other ways to make amends.”
He turned to face me and lifted a hand to my jaw, so he could trace the blade of my cheekbone with his thumb. “Do you know,” he said conversationally, “that after I left you nine years ago, I used to see your face every time I closed my eyes? You were so beautiful. So fucking honest. And you haunted me.”
“Your guilty conscience haunted you, you mean.” I’d intended the words as a reproof, but they came out breathier than I’d intended, and I couldn’t help but lean my cheek into the warmth of his palm.
“No,” he mused. “It wasn’t that. I didn’t have a conscience then. Took me a little while to grow one. But there was something about you that made me wish I was different. And I knew I’d never see you again.” He gave me a wry grin. “But I’d hear your voice in my head, and I’d want to try to be a better person.” He laughed softly. “Hasn’t always worked, of course. But I just thought that was something you should know. Whatever lies I told you in the past, the way I felt about you wasn't one of them.”
I swallowed hard. “Ethan, I…”
“Warner! You coming?” Walker called from out in the hall.
“Two minutes,” Ethan yelled back. Then, to me, he said, “Listen, Haven, I don’t have a lot of time, but there are two things I need to talk to you about.”
I frowned. “What things?”
“First.” He stood and reached into his back pocket for his wallet and withdrew a piece of paper. “This is part of what I owe your father. It’s as much as I could get on short notice.” He handed me a check with a mind-boggling number of zeroes on it. I knew very well that my father had never had that much money in his life.
“Ethan, this is too much.”
“Not if you consider the interest he would have earned,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He closed my fingers around the check like the matter was settled and pulled me to my feet. “Second… I really want you to consider moving into the penthouse while I’m gone.”
“What? Ethan, no. I have my own place.” I ran a hand over my head, feeling like the world was spinning too fast.
“A place in a not-great neighborhood with truly shitty security,” he reminded me, as though I wasn’t already aware. “Here, the security is state of the art. There’s a doorman downstairs, and four incredibly annoying, but incredibly protective Masters here to guard you while I can’t.”
“But–” I didn’t want to owe him, or anyone, anything. I didn’t want to trust him again.
“Haven,” he interrupted, squeezing my hands in his. “Honest to God, the worst part about going in there is going to be worrying about you every minute of the day. Worrying that you’ll take your justifiable risks, and the Bianchis will be one step ahead of you. I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but I’m asking anyway. Stay in the penthouse. You can even say you’ll sleep in my room, if you want to make sure I’m rock hard the entire time I’m gone,” he said. He gave me that wicked Warner grin, the one I’d never been able to refuse—not nine years ago, and sure as hell not today, when he was about to put his ass on the line to help a couple of innocent men.
“Yeah,” I agreed, and even though I could feel the weight of that landslide bearing down on me, I gave him a tremulous smile in return. “If it means that much to you, I will.”
He smiled—his real, dazzling smile—and pulled me into his embrace.
Then, because he was Ethan, he reached down and smacked me on the ass. “Behave while I’m gone.”
He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to my lips before I’d recovered from the spank, then grabbed my hand and towed me out of the living room before I’d recovered from the
kiss.
I was pretty sure at this rate that I’d never fully recover my balance around this man. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.
Four
Xavier eyed me with both cold detachment and something else in his wary eyes. Pride? Hell, anything but pride. I would have preferred he stoke my anger instead of mollifying it with respect that I didn’t deserve.
I was gonna have to assault Xavier Malone, right here in the Cross-Manhattan Mall in front of dozens of witnesses, and I would have thought that idea would feel better than it did. The guy really, really could be an asshole. Maybe if he’d deserved violence in the moment, it would have been easier.
I looked over the atrium banister at the five crowded floors of shoppers below us and recalled every shitty thing Xavier had ever done. Fortunately there was no shortage.
“You ready? Then let’s take it to the elevator,” he said with a shrug. “Getting you arrested in the lobby will work better. Cleaner. More efficient.”
I nodded.
We’d chosen to stage our fight in the main lobby of this busy shopping area, a place where neither of us had ever been, to keep our ruse as far from the penthouse and the other Masters as possible, while still making sure I was in a jurisdiction that would land me in Bonneville prison. I wasn’t going to be Ethan Warner when I was arrested, but Tad Warner, an easy identity to assume, though the flare of pain in Haven’s eyes had almost made me reconsider when Walker had suggested it. Sabrina had temporarily dyed my hair black so no one would recognize me at first. While I knew sharing a face with Eli would build the trust I needed, my red hair was a little too obvious, in a way that could get me killed.
I hadn’t gotten into a fight in years, easily eluding any violence with my wit and connections. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last fight I’d gotten into, though I knew it had something to do with a woman I’d hit on, who was not, as she’d told me, single. Fun times.
I’d forgotten the way adrenaline pumped through my veins like molten lava, the way my hands clenched and unclenched of their own accord, the way anger at something gave me the balls to prepare to hurt someone. If Xavier experienced any of these things, he hid it well. He stood as erect and aloof as if he were going out to dinner or prepared to meet a client to close a deal.
We both watched the numbers on the elevator blink as we descended to the ground level, when he turned to me. “As soon as we hit the third floor, you deck me,” he said, reminding me of the plan we’d agreed to back at the penthouse. We’d already called the police and given them an anonymous tip that there was a fight. And Sabrina and Haven were already outside, a pair of unobtrusive shoppers watching to make sure everything went according to plan.
Five lit up, and my stomach lurched. Four lit and my vision went a little blurry. At three, I hauled back with everything I had, and landed a hard, solid punch to his jaw.
“Christ,” he swore, his head snapping back a split second before he came right back for me. I ducked, narrowly avoiding his swinging hand.
This was not the fucking plan. To make it seem like simple assault, he wasn’t supposed to fight back. It was supposed to be one shot to the jaw, in front of witnesses. An open and shut case. But if he wasn’t following the plan, hell, I wouldn’t either. I dove for his torso, knocking him to the ground, just before the doors swung open on the first floor.
I pulled Xavier with me, so that we rolled right off the elevator and onto the floor of the lobby. People screamed and ran away from us. I made myself think of Haven, my mind playing tricks on me, Haven sitting on Xavier’s lap and his hands entwined in her hair. I needed to make this real if I was going to attempt to beat him, and the conjured-up image helped.
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, for the sake of making this look good. “You ever fucking touch her again, I’ll kick your ass!”
I knelt above him, reared back and punched him again, hard. He lifted his fists in defense, unable to swing back, when I heard the sounds of sirens and felt strong arms lifting me from behind at the same time Xavier socked me in the gut.
I shoved him, but made it look harder than it was, and fought against the grip he held on my arms as three uniformed officers entered the lobby. “Let go of me. I saw him making eyes at my girl and I’m gonna kill him,” I fumed to the security guard holding me, but I didn’t really fight. This was what I had to do.
Xavier had taken the hit to his jaw. I’d take the hit to my pride. The rest passed in a blur, as I knew I couldn’t avoid the inevitable now. I needed to keep my wits about me and stick to our plan. The rest played out like a scene from a TV show, between the blaring siren, flashing lights, curious onlookers, and snap of cuffs on my wrist.
“Assault and battery on Park Avenue,” I heard the officer call in before I was slammed unceremoniously in the back of a cruiser and the door shut with a bang. God, it smelled in here, like old tennis shoes and sweat, and my stomach rolled with nausea. I swallowed the bile in my throat, which no doubt rose not only from my current situation, but the seriously well-aimed uppercut to my stomach Xavier landed before the police arrived.
He’d held himself erect, wiping a folded handkerchief to the corner of his mouth where I’d split his lip open, every bit the Madison Avenue Malone who’d curry favor with the officers before they hauled my ass to jail. I looked out the window, to where he stood chatting with the officers on the sidewalk and met his gaze. He was too smart to do anything friendly that could betray our plans, but the look in his eyes showed more than his usual detachment. We could fight with each other and he drove me up a fucking wall, but this man was like a brother to me. He’d come through for me.
But it was the second pair of eyes that met mine before the cruiser took off that gave me hope. Haven’s firm, unwavering gaze pierced through the dim haze of my mind and reminded me why I was here. My wrists burned from the cuffs, my nostrils flared with the stench, and my stomach ached. Hell, in that moment, I forfeited more than my pride, more than my personal comfort. I couldn’t protect Haven, like I’d done the night before, couldn’t make sure she got home safe or wore the right shoes or the cuts on her hands fucking healed well.
There were no words that would earn me her forgiveness. And as the sirens blared and the cruiser picked up speed, I remembered my purpose. I’d be on my best game.
Hell, I was putting trust in all of them.
I’d find the information I needed in jail. I’d find Luis and convince him to confide in me. But I’d make it out, because I needed to come back for Haven.
“One phone call, Mr. Warner,” the corrections officer at the door said, as he led me out of the cell and down a narrow, dank hallway. Six hours later, I’d been processed and finally put into prison, wearing my obligatory jumper and flip flops, my wrists cuffed.
“You guys still do that shit, huh?” I said with a grin. “People even know phone numbers anymore? I mean, everyone has numbers saved to their cells and shit.”
His brows shot up in surprise, but he didn’t give much away, choosing not to answer me. I did a quick scan of his clothes. Neat and tidy, a dark shirt tucked into neatly-pressed slacks, shoes that gleamed, but showed wear around the edges. He was a little younger than I was, with a military-style haircut that made his ears sorta stick out. He was tall and thin, his clean-shaven jaw clenched tightly as he led me to a small area that looked like an office of sorts, except for the bullet-proof glass that lined one wall.
“You look like someone I knew once,” he said, and a part of me wanted to let him in, to get him on my side, but I had to keep my mouth shut.
I rolled a shoulder, a half-shrug. “I get that a lot,” I said, looking away.
He picked up the phone and handed it to me. I’d memorized every number to the Masters before I’d left, knowing I’d have this chance. I called Haven.
“Hello?” she answered on the first ring, and just hearing her voice, I felt the tension seep out of me. I no longer felt the pain in my stomach or wrists, or the fraught tension that thrumm
ed through my veins since I’d first set foot in here. It was Haven, and it sounded corny as hell, but in that moment, I loved her voice. I loved even saying the word Haven in my mind.
Safety. Refuge. Sanctuary.
I swallowed with difficulty.
“Hey,” I said.
“What happened?” she asked. “God that took forever. I knew it would, though. Takes hours to process.” The phones were tapped, and we couldn’t pretend anything had been intentional. So I figured I’d make it worth my while.
“Son of a bitch needs to keep his hands off you,” I said. “That goddamned Malone thinks money can buy everything? Well not on my watch. Not my girl.” I heard a huff of indignation on the other line, and I knew Walker had set it up so all the Masters were listening in on this conversation. I’d just pissed Xavier off. Well, opportunities like this didn’t happen every day. I fought a smile.
“Still, baby,” I said, “you need to be careful. I know you care about me, and I appreciate that, but I don’t want you putting your own ass on the line for me. Not for a loser like that.”
I heard a snicker in the background. Nod to Walk.
“Hey, listen,” she said, sobering. “Walker is taking care of things here. Don’t worry about that. Take care of yourself.” Haven had the plan worked out perfectly. I needed to be in the general population, not isolated like a newly-charged inmate being screened for using drugs. Tonight, Walker would have me put in “overflow,” tapping into the system so the numbers showed there were too many of us arrested, and I’d land my ass where I needed to be. I had only needed to get in touch with the Masters to see if anything had changed.
I’d gone over Luis’ physical description so many times, I practically had the guy’s face memorized. We had pictures of his profile, and I knew I’d recognize him by the identifying tattoos along his neck, the only ones visible in his jumper.
The CO who’d brought me here stood next to me, nodding. “I have to go now. You staying safe?”
