Grief choked her. Theo was all she had of her family. The only one who’d ever been there for her, the only one who’d ever loved her. She couldn’t let him die, she just couldn’t.
What if Elijah’s right? What if he’s a monster like your father was?
“I … I can’t let you kill him.” Her voice was hoarse, unsteady. “He’s all I’ve got.”
Elijah’s gaze shifted, focused on her. And something intense gathered in his expression. “No, he’s not. You have me.”
Her breath caught and for a second it felt like the ground hadn’t finished moving under her feet after all, was in fact still shifting, rearranging the landscape once again. Theo didn’t say anything, though behind her she could sense his attention sharpening.
“You?” she croaked. “What do you mean?”
There was movement behind her, the sound of her brother taking a step closer. “You want her?” Theo made it sound like a casual question. “It’ll be over my dead body.”
Elijah’s smile was frightening as he pointed the Colt. “That’s the general idea.”
“No.” She moved more fully in front of Theo. “Please, Elijah. Don’t do this.”
But Elijah wasn’t looking at her now, his gaze wholly on her brother, and there was such hate in his eyes. Such fury. It made her heart twist in anguish for him. “Two years she was in that fucking Russian brothel,” he said in a cold, dead voice. “That’s what your cocksucker of a father told me. He also told me that you were the one who sold her there. You made the deal. And you were the one who let her die after a client slit her throat.”
Tears blurred in Violet’s eyes. His wife. He was talking about his wife. The woman he’d failed to protect and had been taking the blame for ever since. And she waited again for Theo to say no, to tell Elijah he had nothing to do with it. But again, he was silent.
“Now’s the time to pay, you fucker,” Elijah went on, toneless. “Now’s the time you go down.”
It would be easy to step aside. To let this man take the revenge that, surely, he was owed. Yet she wasn’t going to.
She had no altruistic reasons. No lofty motivations. She didn’t have a wronged past and she had no one to avenge. She only loved her brother and didn’t want him to die, no matter what he’d done, no matter the murders or rapes or any other evil he’d committed. Because he was the only family she had left and she couldn’t bear to be alone.
You have me.
But, no, she didn’t have him. She could never have him. Elijah may have been a killer, but there was a nobility to him that she’d never had. He was doing this out of love, out of love for his wife. Because he’d been a victim. He’d been manipulated and used, and so had Marie.
But Violet hadn’t. All she’d had was a shitty family life. She hadn’t been tortured or murdered or raped, and neither had she known anyone who had. There was no nobility in her, there never had been. She was a pampered Manhattan princess enacting a petty rebellion against her family because they never paid her any attention. She had no excuse, she hadn’t been anyone’s victim. She’d only wanted to feel connected to someone. Only wanted to feel not so alone.
But maybe there was a reason she was. Maybe the monster that had lived in her father, that now lived in his son, lived in her too. The dark hunger, the need. The hole in her soul.
Elijah had told her there was nothing wrong with her, and she’d wanted to believe it. But in so many ways, it was easier not to. In so many ways, it was safer to accept what she knew deep down inside.
There was no hope for her.
Because surely only a monster let another monster live for their own selfish reasons.
“No,” she said thickly, again. “I’m sorry, Eli. I can’t let you. If you want to kill Theo, you’ll have to kill me first.”
* * *
Elijah stared into Violet’s blue-green eyes, searching for any kind of understanding. But there was none. There was only pain and the kind of determination that he’d recognized in her so many times before. She meant this. There would be no moving her.
Getting into the room where Violet was had been easy. He’d decided against going in the front, since it was likely the roof would be less heavily guarded, a hunch that had paid off. There had been an easy route from the roof of the building next door and the door that had led down into the apartment block’s stairwell had had a paltry lock that had given the moment Elijah kicked it.
There had been no one watching the roof or the stairwell. Clearly Jericho was not expecting visitors.
Eva had tracked the phone to a particular apartment, and Elijah had managed to get rid of the four guards who had been watching that floor without too many problems. He’d checked the bodies for ID but hadn’t managed to find anything. All of which just added to his suspicions that Jericho had indeed taken Violet.
He’d debated briefly the merits of kicking the door in and then had decided to hell with it, he wanted Violet and that was the most direct route. So he had, shooting what must have been the owner of the phone he’d been tracking before the guy had even managed to get a shot off.
Then he’d had eyes for nothing but Violet, because there she was, standing in the middle of the dingy apartment, her face white, but alive. And the relief had nearly brought him to his knees.
He hadn’t failed her. Which meant he could save her.
Then he’d realized she wasn’t alone.
Now, the dead man who was apparently Theo Fitzgerald was staring back at him, looking like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ and so fucking smug, Elijah wanted to pull that trigger and Violet be damned.
He could. In fact, she didn’t even need to die. He could just reach out and take her, pull her away and shoot the prick.
But clearly the asshole had had the same thought, because he reached out and put a possessive hand on Violet’s shoulder, pulling her back. Holding her. “I wouldn’t,” he said calmly. “She meant what she said.”
Violet’s expression didn’t change, no matter that her brother seemed to be using her to protect himself.
“Hiding behind your sister, prick?” Elijah didn’t lower the Colt. He wanted to shoot so badly it was all he could do not to pull that trigger. “I guess that’s what Jericho does best after all. He hides and lets other people do his dirty work for him.”
Jericho’s expression didn’t alter, remaining calm. “You should never have involved yourself, Mr. Hunt. You should have given her to me and let me keep her safe.”
“What, with you? Safe like Marie was safe? I don’t fucking think so.”
There was no flicker in that green-gold gaze. No hint of remorse or guilt or even sympathy. There was nothing at all. “Be happy with your trade concessions. That’s all you’re going to get.”
“I don’t want your fucking trade concessions,” Elijah spat. “I never did. All I wanted was your father’s head. And then someone took that, which means I’ll have to settle for yours.”
At last, a flicker of what looked like regret passed over Jericho’s golden-boy features. “I suppose I should have seen this. Nevermind, can’t be helped now. You won’t shoot me, Mr. Hunt. Not if you want Violet to live.”
“You happy with this?” He looked at Violet, staring into her eyes, wanting to see that sympathy he knew was there, that understanding. But there was nothing but pain and that fucking awful determination. “Your brother using you to protect himself?”
An emotion shifted and changed in her eyes, more hurt. “Like you never did the same thing.”
And he felt that, the barbs on the words catching at him, tearing at him. Because of course it was true. He had used her. All this time, that’s exactly what he’d been doing.
“Violet,” he said, unable to keep the desperate sound out of his voice. “Princess … I need this. Let me have it.”
But her expression shuttered. “No. You’re not killing him, Elijah.”
“You want me to hurt you? Is that what you want?”
“But yo
u won’t hurt me.” A bright spark of agony glowed in her eyes, suddenly sharp. “That’s the thing Eli. I know you’d never hurt me, because I know you’re a good man, a just man. And I’m…” She stopped, that little spark glowing brighter. “You told me once that all of us are monsters deep down, even me.”
Oh, fuck. No. “Violet, you’re not—”
“I’m a Fitzgerald, Eli. And us monsters have to stick together.”
“Bullshit,” he said, hard and certain and sure, not wanting those words lingering in the air, not even an echo. Because they were wrong, so wrong. “You’re not a fucking monster. If anyone’s the monster here it’s that asshole standing behind you. And me. I’m the one you should be pointing the finger at.”
“Okay,” Jericho said unexpectedly. “I think I’ve had about enough of this.” And with a smooth movement, he stepped around Violet and pushed her behind him.
Giving Elijah an unimpeded target.
“Theo, no!” She pulled at his arm, but he ignored her, keeping her behind him.
To anyone else there was a bored look in those green-gold eyes, yet Elijah knew it wasn’t. He saw deeper than that. Because he knew men like this, had worked with them many times over the course of the years with Fitzgerald. It wasn’t boredom. It was emptiness.
The look of a man who’d sold his soul to the devil.
Whoever Theo Fitzgerald once was, he wasn’t this man standing in front of him. Like Kane Archer, Theo Fitzgerald was dead.
“If you’re going to fucking shoot me, you’d better shoot me.” Jericho’s gaze was level and there was no fear in it. He looked like he’d stared death in the face one too many times and had come to terms with the fact that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Perhaps he even welcomes it.
No, he didn’t want to acknowledge this bastard, he really didn’t.
“My pleasure, asshole.” Elijah lifted the gun. “This one’s for Marie.”
And then he made a mistake. He glanced at Violet, standing behind her brother, and saw the tears streaming down her face. She didn’t make a sound.
She was his peace, but he wasn’t hers. He only caused her sorrow. Pain. He only hurt her. And if he shot Jericho, he’d keep on hurting her. Her brother’s death would be a wound that wouldn’t heal, and he knew all about those kinds of wounds.
He’d promised he wouldn’t hurt her again.
What about Marie? What about that promise? Didn’t you want peace?
And his heart cracked, a great jagged line going right down the middle of it. Because he knew there would be no peace for him, no matter what he did. Killing Jericho would lay Marie to rest, but it would shatter Violet. Letting him live would spare Violet, but he’d have to live with his wife’s death forever.
He stared at Violet, at her vivid eyes, her wet cheeks, and her soft, lush mouth. Bright and beautiful and alive. Hurting so much already. And he knew there was no choice to make.
Marie was dead and had been for a very long time. He couldn’t save her. But he could give Violet this. Heal a little bit of her pain. It would only be fair after everything she’d given him.
Slowly, Elijah lowered the Colt. He looked at Violet one last time, memorizing everything about her so he could keep at least the memory of her to last him.
Then he turned and walked out the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Violet wiped futilely at the tears, scrubbing them all away with vicious swipes of her hand.
She shouldn’t be crying, not now she’d made her choice and picked a side. And it was the right choice, she knew that in her heart. Pity her heart kept insisting it was broken and shouldn’t be making any sort of choices right now.
Theo was speaking on his phone to someone, his voice completely calm as if he hadn’t just faced down a man intent on putting a bullet in his brain. He was again speaking in German and it sounded as if he was issuing instructions.
Violet tried to pull herself together, tried to ignore the way her chest felt like it was full of broken glass. Elijah was gone and she’d understood the moment he’d given her that final look, as he’d lowered his Colt, that she wouldn’t see him again.
There had been such pain in his eyes. He’d looked at her as if he was a man standing on a desert island watching his last chance of rescue disappear over the horizon.
You have me, he’d said. The closest a man like him would ever come to laying out his heart.
And yet in the end, it hadn’t been her who’d left.
She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Even now there was a part of her that wanted to go after him, throw herself at his feet and tell him that yes, she had him. And he had her. That he didn’t have to hurt again. Pity she was such a fucking coward.
I need this, princess.… Let me have it.
But he hadn’t taken it. Why not? What had stopped him?
“A car will be waiting by the curb when you get downstairs,” Theo was talking to her, his deep, smooth voice so achingly familiar, and she had to struggle to pay attention. “It’ll take you to Teterboro, where I have a jet waiting.”
Ah yes, that’s right, he wanted her out of the country. Ostensibly to keep her safe.
She lifted her chin, studying his handsome face, noting the tightness in his jaw and the lines around his mouth. Marks of grief and pain. There were shadows in his eyes, too. Shadows that she hadn’t seen before.
You were the one who made the deal. And you were the one who let her die when a client slit her throat …
Had he really been the one who’d let Elijah’s wife die? Who’d sold her to a brothel? Who operated behind a cloud of secrecy, the power pulling the strings on a vast, shadowy human trafficking ring?
“How could he not know?” She wasn’t sure she’d said the words aloud until she heard them echo in the silence of the apartment.
Theo glanced at her. “Who?”
“Dad. How could he not know it was you?”
“Because I made sure he wouldn’t.” He’d put his phone away, reaching for an expensive-looking overcoat that was slung over the back of the threadbare couch.
“Why not? Why are you doing this?”
He put on the overcoat, shaking his head. “You need to leave now.”
“Answer me!” She took a couple of steps toward him. “I spent years looking for you, Theo. Do you know that? I was convinced you hadn’t died, I was positive. Shit, searching for you has driven me for years and now here you are, and you won’t even answer a few of my questions?”
There was no anger in his eyes, only a regret that tore at what remained of her heart. “No, Peanut, I won’t. Because I don’t have the answers for you, at least not the ones you want to hear. Now come on, it’s time to go.”
“Tell me!”
He only shook his head and the look on his face was like a parent with a demanding child. Patient yet firm. Laying down the law. “I can’t. This is not your fight, Violet, it’s mine.” Turning, he went over to the kicked-in door and stood there, his arm out in a strangely old-fashioned gesture. “After you.”
She remembered him like this. Her pushing him to play with her or talk to her back when they’d been children, and him always so patient, refusing to be pushed. He’d never gotten angry either, no matter the tantrums she’d thrown and the tears she’d cried. She’d been like the wind, battering at him, while he’d been a rock, standing firm. Completely unaffected.
No wonder you liked what you did to Elijah. You affected him.
But there was no point thinking of Elijah. Just like there was no point pushing Theo. She’d get nothing out of him, not if he didn’t want to talk.
So she closed her mouth and shut up. Went over to the door.
Theo looked down at her, and she thought for a minute he was going to give her a hug, but he didn’t. And there was something radiating off him, a kind of warning that suggested hugging him would be unwelcome. So she kept her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, trying to ignore the cold stealing
through her.
“Once you get to Paris, lay low for a while,” he said quietly. “You’ll have everything you need there for a few weeks. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to return.” He paused, his gaze roving over her, the look on his face impossible to read. “Good-bye, Violet.”
She must have said good-bye too but she couldn’t remember exactly as she’d walked down from the apartment to the foyer in a daze.
There was a car at the sidewalk, like he’d promised, and a man waiting next to it, ready to drive her away.
She got into the backseat without a word and the driver started the car, pulling out into the traffic.
Soon she’d be away from here, flying back to France. Away from the heartache that was her life, the reality of her world crashing down around her ears. If she closed her eyes, she could even pretend that none of the past week had happened. That she was still the daughter of a wealthy New York businessman, still puzzled by her brother’s disappearance, still dressing to annoy her mother, still living off her trust fund, and still flitting from place to place, thing to thing, never settling on anything.
Still Violet Fitzgerald.
But no, she wasn’t that Violet anymore, was she? She’d been changed. Irrevocably. By a man with black eyes and a scarred face. Who’d not only pulled her out of the stupid little box she’d been living in, but destroyed the box completely. He’d stripped her of her façades and forced her to confront who she really was inside, the person she was when all the layers had been ripped away. A selfish woman, like her father had been selfish. Thinking only of herself and her own loneliness.
Violet watched the traffic and the buildings sliding past outside the car window, her chest sore and her eyes gritty, like they had sand in them. And she couldn’t get out of her head the sight of Elijah’s face. The sharp pain in his obsidian eyes that cut her like razors. But she’d chosen her side, she’d chosen her brother.
You have me.
Elijah’s voice echoed in her memory. She couldn’t get that out of her head either, couldn’t stop herself from wondering that if she had him, who did he have? But then, she knew the answer to that. He had no one.
Kidnapped by the Billionaire Page 31
