Tears filled her eyes, the scene outside the car window blurring. How long had he been alone? Seven years. And what would he do now? He’d let Theo live, had given up his revenge, and now he was faced with the task of cleaning up the mess her father had made by himself. And all because of her.
He’d given up everything he’d been working toward for so long, for her.
And she’d taken it away from him.
The tears slid down her cheeks and a sudden wave of fury gripped her, so tight she could hardly breathe. Because here she was, sitting passively in this car, letting herself be taken away by yet another man. Letting herself be used the way they’d all used her at one point or another. A pawn of her father, of Elijah, and now of Theo.
And you’re still a pawn. You think that move back there was you choosing a side? That wasn’t a choice. That was reflex.
She swallowed. Fuck, she was so sick of this. Sick of being taken. Sick of being rescued.
Perhaps it was time she did some rescuing of her own. But not herself, because quite frankly, she didn’t deserve it. Didn’t need it. But there was another person who did. Who had no one to save him. No one but her.
It didn’t matter what he’d meant when he’d told her that she had him. What mattered was that he needed to know that he had her. And if he didn’t want her, then she’d just have to live with that.
The car slowed as it approached an intersection, then came to a stop for a red light.
Violet waited a moment.
Then she pulled open the door very, very quietly and slipped out.
* * *
Elijah stood in the middle of Gabriel Woolf’s downtown office, his arms folded, not making any move to break the silence that filled the room. A silence so thick you could have cut it with a knife.
Before he’d gone to get Violet, he’d agreed with the others that they’d meet back at Gabriel’s office on the fiftieth floor of the Woolf Construction building. He hadn’t wanted to. What he’d wanted was to take her back to his own apartment and keep her there, possibly forever, but naturally enough Woolf and his friends wouldn’t have been happy with that arrangement.
They were even less happy about it now that he hadn’t actually gotten Violet at all.
Behind him huge windows gave a magnificent view out over Manhattan, the sun glittering off glass and steel, the concrete jungle in all its glory. But he didn’t turn around to see it. He didn’t give a shit about views. Not when all he could see were the tears sliding down Violet’s cheeks. Not when he knew that walking away had been one of the best things he’d ever done. And one of the hardest.
“You bastard,” Woolf said furiously at last. “I can’t believe you left her with him.”
“You expected me to drag her kicking and screaming from the building?” He met the other man’s gaze head-on. “She was free to make a choice and she made it.”
Pity it wasn’t the one he wanted.
“You didn’t seem to find that a problem last week.” Woolf’s voice was a growl.
Fuck, they wouldn’t understand and he wasn’t going to explain it to them. He could barely explain it to himself. Giving up the work of nearly a decade for one lovely woman’s tears.
Giving up the one chance he had—because he knew there’d never be another—to avenge Marie’s death. And all because he couldn’t stand to hurt Violet.
He was a fucking liability, that’s what he was. Soft and weak and vulnerable. His ex-boss would have laughed himself sick if he’d known what his hard-as-nails henchman had fallen to.
Anguish stirred inside him, and a despair he’d been trying to keep at bay the whole time he’d made his way from the broken-down apartment building in Alphabet City to Woolf’s office. But like blood in the water, it crept out, staining everything.
He wouldn’t see her again. And not because that was actually what he wanted, but because she’d made her choice and he had to respect that.
Us monsters have to stick together.
Why she thought she was a monster he had no idea, because a woman less likely to be one he’d yet to meet. Nevertheless, that didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t chosen him. Not unsurprising, given all he’d done to her and yet it still hurt, a subtle pain that worked its way inside him, like a splinter heading straight for his heart.
But, shit, he had to ignore that. He had things to do. An empire to take over and bring down. Yes, it would be that much harder with Jericho still alive, but he’d do it anyway. At least he’d try.
After all, it wasn’t as if he had better things to do.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.” He stared at Woolf, his fingers suddenly itching to do violence. “I already took her choices from her once before, I’m not doing it again.”
“So you thought leaving her with her fucking monster brother was a better idea?”
“He wouldn’t hurt her.”
“And how the fuck would you know that?”
The rest of them were staring at him, accusation in their eyes. And he couldn’t blame them. He’d walked out and left Violet with one of Europe’s most secretive and notorious crime bosses. Who also happened to be the brother who’d supposedly died sixteen years earlier.
And the brother who’d been trying to rescue her all this time. Because it was all so clear now, why Jericho had wanted her so badly. He’d been trying to get her free of her father the only way he could. So no, he wouldn’t hurt her.
“He won’t,” Elijah said. “Jericho spent a long time trying to get her free. He wouldn’t do all of that just to get rid of her now.” He paused, looking at all of them in turn. “He’s her brother, you do understand that don’t you?”
Woolf cursed under his breath and flicked a glance at Honor, who’d been waiting in his office with the rest of them when Elijah had finally gotten back.
“Yeah, I didn’t see that coming,” St. James muttered.
“None of us did.” Rutherford was leaning against Woolf’s desk with his arms folded. “You didn’t ever find anything about him, did you, angel?”
Eva sat next to him on the edge of the desk, her legs swinging. “Nope. Nothing at all. It’s like he doesn’t exist. Jericho I mean, not Theo.”
Katya was by the door, frowning at Elijah. “You said his father never knew he was dealing with his own son?”
“He didn’t.” Of that Elijah was positive. Fitzgerald had had no inkling and in fact had spent a good many resources trying to find out who Jericho was, since the man had hated mysteries. Which in many ways made it odd that he’d accepted Theo’s disappearance without any argument, especially when a body hadn’t turned up. “He tried to find out but came up against the same dead ends. Jericho didn’t want to be found and so he wasn’t.”
“Except we found him,” Woolf murmured. “We know who he is.”
Katya shifted. “We need to be careful. If he’s kept his identity secret for that long, he’s not going to be pleased that we know.”
“Good point.” Rutherford glanced at the small woman on the desk beside him. “I think perhaps a leave of absence might be a prudent thing.”
“What? You mean run away?” Eva scowled, obviously annoyed with the idea.
“Jericho is a bigger fish than Fitzgerald ever was, angel,” Rutherford said quietly. “He’s got more resources and his empire, from what we can see, is … massive. I don’t want you in harm’s way if he decides to make sure his identity stays secret.”
“But Theo wouldn’t…” Honor stopped. Her face was pale, worry clear in her eyes. “I mean I know him. At least I used to.”
“Forget what you know,” Elijah said curtly. “Whoever he once was, he isn’t now. Not after years spent building that kind of empire.” And he knew, better than anyone, how true that was.
Woolf had put his arm around Honor’s waist. “Zac’s not wrong, baby. I’m thinking you might be better off out of New York too.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve taken a lot of time off work as it is and I
don’t have the staff to take the load like you all do.”
“I’m not talking outer space here,” Woolf said. “The lodge in Colorado has internet, you know that. You can work from there. Shit, that’s what I do.”
“Alexei,” Katya’s voice was quiet. “Perhaps you should—”
“Do you think you could wait till we’re in private before you undermine my masculinity, Katya mine?” St. James didn’t sound at all offended, only amused, his mouth curving in a private kind of smile. “Anyway, I don’t need to go anywhere. Not when I have my own personal ninja to protect me.”
There were lots of undercurrents in the room that Elijah found difficult to follow. The emotions that ran between all these people were deep with warmth and there was a tenderness in the way they looked at one another that, strangely, made him feel angry. Made him feel as if he was missing something.
Fuck, he had to get out of here, away from all this cloying emotional bullshit.
“Protect yourselves how you can,” he said coldly. “Are we done here?”
“Seriously?” St. James’s blue eyes had narrowed. “You just land this information on us and then fuck off? What about Violet? What about Jericho?”
“What about them? Violet is safe and Jericho is probably halfway back to Europe by now.”
“So you’re just letting him go?” Woolf was looking at him now. “After all that shit about revenge and taking him down, you’re letting him get away?”
“Yes.” He didn’t bother to explain himself. The other man wouldn’t understand. “I have work I need to do here.”
“What work?” This from Honor.
“Fitzgerald left one hell of a power vacuum and someone’s got to fill it.” He looked at them each in turn. “That someone’s is going to be me.”
There was a silence.
Eva gaze was full of silver sparks. “If you’re going to take over that pile of shit, then perhaps we’ll just shoot you right now and save ourselves a whole lot of bother.”
“I don’t want his fucking empire.” Elijah held her gaze. “I want to take it down. Hell, I started the process of dismantling it years ago. It just needs a couple more years before it goes down completely.”
“Why not let the police do it?” Katya asked.
“Because half the fucking police were in Fitzgerald’s pocket. They want to keep it going for their own ends, make no mistake. No, it’s got to be done from the inside, which means it’s got to be me.”
Another silence.
But they all agreed, he could see it in their eyes.
“What about Jericho then?” Eva said. “We’re just going to let him go? Run away like a bunch of scared kids?”
“I didn’t say we were going to let him go, angel.” Rutherford unfolded his arms, reaching down to put a hand on her knee. “What I meant was that we should lay low while we work on a plan to take him down.”
Something twisted in Elijah’s chest, the memory of Violet’s tearstained face.
He’s my brother.
“Fuck, yes,” Woolf said roughly. “We can’t let him get away with this shit.”
Once, Elijah would have agreed. But not now. He wanted no part of it, not when any move against Jericho was a move against Violet.
He turned to the door without a word. He had to get out of here, he had stuff to do.
“Elijah.” Woolf’s voice.
He stopped, didn’t turn around.
“Are you with us?”
It was a gesture, he understood. An olive branch of sorts. An invitation to be part of the plan, to join with them at least for a little while.
But while he appreciated the sentiment, he wasn’t going to. He’d been on his own path for almost a decade and it was better that he walked it alone. That’s how he worked best after all.
“No,” he said flatly. “I left Jericho alive for Violet. If you want to take him down, that’s your business.” He moved to the door and pulled it open.
“And Fitzgerald’s empire?” Rutherford this time. “You might need help.”
“I won’t.”
He stepped through the door and pulled it shut after him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Violet had no money and no phone, so she walked, trying to keep her head down in case any of her brother’s minions were out and about.
She’d timed her escape from the car just about perfectly, the lights changing to green as she’d gotten out which had meant the driver had been unable to chase her without abandoning his car in the middle of the street and causing a big traffic jam.
She’d run hard and fast after that, sticking to crowded places with lots of people at first, then dodging down alleyways. She’d gotten lost a couple of times, riding the subway a lot had meant she’d never really gotten a clear picture of how the streets of Manhattan connected in her head.
But even lost, she’d pressed on. Walking and walking and trusting that eventually she’d figure out where she was.
It was strange to realize that she was finally free. That for the first time in a week or so, she wasn’t anyone’s captive. Shit, she could go anywhere: back to her own apartment or to Honor’s. It would have been the intelligent thing to do, after all. Go get a change of clothes, some money, a phone.
Yet somehow all of those things seemed unimportant.
There was only one thing that mattered and that was finding Elijah. Making sure he was okay. Letting him know that she was there for him. Whatever happened after that felt kind of insignificant.
It shouldn’t have taken her that long to get from Alphabet City to the West Village, but what with her getting lost and trying to keep a low profile, it felt like a long time before she finally started to recognize some of the streets.
By then the sun had started to go down as the afternoon shambled on into evening. It had gotten cold too, clouds rolling in and the temperature plunging. It would probably snow again, which was just great timing considering all she wore was a sweater and jeans.
The long shadows of evening had well and truly closed in by the time she eventually approached the hulking brick edifice of Elijah’s apartment building. She went up the stairs, shivering as the wind began to pick up, realizing as she came to the securely locked door that she had no idea how to get in.
There was a buzzer off to the side, so she pressed it then waited. But nothing happened. She tried a couple more times with the same result. Okay, so crap. He wasn’t there. Which meant she either had to wait here for him or find somewhere else to go.
She turned around, scanned the street up and down a couple of times, some part of her hoping that he’d magically turn up right about now. But the street was empty, no sign of him.
Well, she could go home or go to Honor’s, it wasn’t like anything was forcing her to stay here and wait for him.
Yet she didn’t move. Because she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay here, wait for him, be there for him when he came home, whenever he came home. And whether that took a couple of hours or whether that took all night, she knew that’s what she was going to do.
You’re crazy. You might freeze to death out here.
Well, yeah, she might. But how else was she going to find him?
She let out a small breath and sat down on the icy stone steps, wrapping her arms around herself. And prepared to wait.
The sound of footsteps brought her to consciousness, making her aware suddenly that she was cold, so cold it felt as if she was encased in solid ice. She opened her eyes, unable to remember when she’d closed them.
It was fully dark, the cold, clear light of the street lamps shining on sidewalks sprinkled with a dusting of fresh snow. A black shadow of a man stood on the steps in front of her, looming like a mountain.
The cold must have somehow frozen her solid because she couldn’t move and she couldn’t speak. She could only stare up at the shadow, her heart beating furiously as his features began to come clear.
Black eyes. A twisted, scarred mouth. Blunt, bruta
lly handsome features.
Elijah.
Relief burst like fireworks, surging through her blood, making her feel weak and trembly and pathetically like crying.
He didn’t say anything as he looked down at her, and she couldn’t have said what was going on in his head. His expression was absolutely opaque.
Then abruptly he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, his warmth, after so long sitting in the cold, almost making her gasp aloud. His hold was gentle and she allowed herself to rest against his chest, looking up at him as he unlocked the door and got them both inside, heading toward the elevator.
He stayed silent as the elevator came and they went up. And she felt no need to say anything quite yet, content just to rest against him and absorb the heat of his body, letting the familiar scent of him surround her. She had no idea what he would say when he got her into his apartment, but of one thing she was clear. She wasn’t going to leave. She wasn’t going to leave him ever again.
He got her into the apartment a minute or two later, kicking the door shut behind them, and she thought he might carry her over to the couch and put her on it, but he didn’t. He set her back on her feet the moment the door closed, then he leaned back against it, folding his arms.
The look in his eyes was the one she knew so well, cold, hard, sharp. Glittering with all that icy anger he carried around inside him. “What the fuck are you doing here, Violet? I thought you and your monster brother were sticking together?”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick because she’d known she’d hurt him back there in that apartment. She just hadn’t realized quite how badly till now. “Well, I thought so too. And then I thought that perhaps I’d made the wrong choice.”
He stared, his dark eyes roaming over her, giving her back nothing at all. “Why? You think I’m any less of a monster? I’ve spent seven years in hell, princess. I’m not coming out clean.”
She still felt cold, the feeling settling down deep into her bones, even though the apartment’s heat had obviously been on. But she ignored the sensation. She didn’t matter, not right in this moment. Only he did. “I know that,” she said clearly. “And I don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been. I’m not here because you’re less of a monster than Theo. I’m here because you don’t have anyone who’s there for you but me. You need me, Elijah. So that’s why I’m here.”
Kidnapped by the Billionaire Page 32
