Let Me Out (For Me, #1)

by Nichole Severn

  The footsteps grew louder, glass crunching underneath them.

  Christian’s door wrenched open abruptly but no other movement registered to his drugged senses. He moaned, short little bursts of noise, trying to convey he’d survived, that he needed help.

  The feeling of helplessness ate at him from the inside. He’d built an entire corporation with his two hands, raised himself above the life he’d been handed, but he couldn’t help himself now.

  Large hands, too big to be anyone’s he knew, wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him upright in his seat. His head lulled off to one side, away from his savior.

  “Where’s that little bitch of yours?” the voice asked. Male, almost booming, but not someone he recognized. African American, most likely big by the sound of him. Another flunky of Harlow’s.

  The man reached past him and released his seat belt. More glass crunched under his heels as he positioned himself to pull Christian from the car.

  Two gunshots broke the silence in the still night air.

  The man let Christian go and he slumped out of the car onto the glass-covered pavement.

  No pain, no feeling at all as he stared directly up at the stars. Peaceful. He listened to the sound of his shallow breathing with no other sounds registering. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think clearly, but it didn’t matter.

  Adelaide had come to his rescue.

  * * *

  Marcus sighed in relief. The weight of his gun pulled his arm down slowly and he holstered the 9mm in his jeans. The rubber bullets had been an afterthought, an accessory courtesy of the ATF. Ironic they’d just saved Christian’s life.

  The burly man he’d knocked the breath out of lay on his back, still as the grave with his eyes open.

  Marcus didn’t recognize him at first, but a closer look told him Harlow Vicente had gotten impatient. He wanted his property back and apparently wasn’t willing to wait for Marcus any longer.

  “Don’t move. Don’t talk,” he warned, ready to hit him if needed. “You’ll live if you follow my instructions.”

  The man nodded, still trying to breathe.

  “Good. You’re going to tell Harlow you never saw us tonight. If you don’t, I will personally make sure you’re behind bars for the rest of your life for attempted manslaughter. Got it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Tell your boss if he ever tries to interfere with my business again, I’ll be coming after him next.” He moved toward Christian. Inspecting the wound on the side of his head and the tiny pinprick of blood on his neck, Marcus shook his head in disbelief.

  He’d just saved the man he’d sworn to destroy.

  * * *

  “What’d you do to him?” a familiar voice asked.

  Movement on his right side pulled at his attention as another voice answered, “I think she only injected him. The car wreck did everything else.”

  Christian lay on his back. His head throbbed, pulsing blood through his ears louder than anything he’d ever experienced. He struggled to open his eyes, eager to know his location.

  “I think he’s waking up.”

  His head grew cold. A bright white light engulfed his vision, nothing more. Blinking a couple times, Christian watched as the world slowly came into focus and he exhaled in relief.

  Home.

  Marcus leaned over him, a white washcloth between his hands. “Take it easy, boss.” He placed the cloth back onto Christian’s head. “You’ve taken quite a beating.”

  “Beating?” He didn’t remember any beating.

  He couldn’t remember anything.

  “I guess beating isn’t the right word. But you’re not in good shape, man.”

  “I’m going to get more bandages,” Taigen said. The slam of the bedroom door caused Christian to shudder.

  He closed his eyes, trying to remember the night. He envisioned himself and Adelaide at the charity, the man she’d saved him from, the unexplainable change in her, but then everything went blank. “Where is she?” His words slurred together as he spoke, the effects of Adelaide’s medication still in his system.

  “She’s here,” Marcus said. “Do you remember anything?”

  Christian wobbled his head back and forth, wincing from the electric shocks of pain behind his eyes.

  Marcus left his vision, but Christian heard him moving around.

  “Where is she?” He sat up, searching for her green eyes. He wanted to know what the hell happened back there, why she’d attacked him, why she pulled away from him further each day.

  Marcus moved forward, his hands extended to help. “You need to—”

  He only glared at the agent, daring him to come closer.

  Marcus’s hands went up in surrender. “Whatever you say.” He backed away slowly, exhaling.

  Christian found her sitting across the room in a recliner. Adelaide’s hair had been pulled back out of her face. She still wore the ruined dress and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Did you find anything in Roberts’s safe?” he whispered, but his words weren’t for the woman he stared at.

  “Nothing,” Marcus replied from beside Adelaide, glancing down at her. “Someone beat us to it.”

  “And Taigen?” Christian had to wonder why he wasn’t being taken care of by his own physician.

  “He’s going to gather info on your assailant,” Marcus answered.

  In reality, he didn’t care. His gaze settled on Adelaide. “Adie,” he whispered, hoping to catch a glimpse of her emerald eyes. He wanted assurances he hadn’t hurt her, that she loved him.

  She didn’t move.

  He repeated her name with force and her stare instantly found his. Christian noted her shaking hands, a side effect of a lack of medication. “Can someone tell me why she isn’t sedated?”

  “We wanted to make sure you were all right first,” Marcus said, his eyes lowering to Adelaide.

  Her eyes had closed, the shaking in her hands disappearing.

  Just the sound of Marcus’s voice seemed to calm her body and mind, but as Christian caught the agent’s longing gaze, he exhaled in frustration. “I thought I’d been clear when I said to get out of my house.”

  “I just saved your life. Remember that.” He stood without another word, not waiting for a response.

  Christian watched Marcus leave the room, annoyed by another glance toward Adelaide as the ATF agent closed the door behind him. He remained silent for a ten full breaths, the pain in his ribs almost unbearable. He’d been through worse, but the compound had been a long time ago. He gazed at Adelaide, studying the sharp angles of her jawline, the pale skin of her neck and arms. The dress had been completely ruined, but he didn’t give a damn. He could buy her others. “Come here.”

  Adelaide continued to stare at him with a blank expression. She tried to hide her thoughts from him, something she’d made a habit of lately. Lowering her gaze into her lap, she sat motionless.

  Tired of her games, of her aversion to him and distrust, he spoke between clenched teeth. “Come here.”

  She rose immediately, keeping her eyes on the floor as she walked toward the bed. Stopping next to it, Adelaide waited for her next order.

  “Sit.”

  She faced the large mirror hanging on the wall opposite the bed and sank down beside him.

  He studied her reflection in the mirror, moving closer to her. Only dressed in boxer shorts, Christian didn’t bother covering himself. He wouldn’t hide from her. He stretched his arm around her shoulders, trailing his fingers across her delicate collarbones from behind.

  A shudder ran through her body, making him smile.

  Christian leaned closer, pushing his nose against the skin of her neck and inhaled. “Adie.” Kissing the side of her neck, he worked his way across her shoulders. “I’ve missed you in more ways than you can imagine.”

  Another shudder rocked her.

  Their nightly rituals had been put off long enough. The bank robbery, plans to retrieve the copy of his ledger, deals with the Mafia, none of it
mattered right then. Christian needed her more than he’d ever needed her before. He pulled her back against his chest, breathing in the scent of lemon.

  It drove him crazy.

  Adelaide didn’t respond to his touch, but she didn’t turn away either, giving him hope.

  “How is it you grow more enticing every day?” He rose to his knees and wrapped his hand underneath her chin to look straight down at her. The crown of her head rested against his chest, giving him a perfect view of her emerald gaze and flawless chest.

  She stared at him with her own eyes, not the monster lurking inside.

  Trailing her collarbone with his fingertips again, he explored further, down the center of her chest.

  Her breathing grew shallow and her body tense, but she wouldn’t run. She couldn’t run from him.

  Placing his mouth over hers, Christian tried to entice her to stay a little longer.

  It took a moment for her to return the gesture, her lips giving in to his slightly.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Adelaide froze. She stopped breathing and Christian didn’t know what he’d done wrong. She sat motionless for two breaths, but suddenly bolted upright.

  He closed his eyes, exhaling loudly. His chest felt as if it would explode. He clenched his teeth together, trying to bite back the angry words he’d been saving for years. He loved her. Why couldn’t she see that? Why didn’t she love him? “I’m getting tired of playing this game with you, Adelaide.”

  Turning around to face him, she kept her gaze steady, daring him to go on.

  He pushed himself off the bed, his hand reaching for her of its own accord. He cupped her throat roughly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “What will make you realize that you will never be able to leave?” He waited for a heartbeat, but continued. “I am all you have, Adelaide. I’ve taken care of you for nineteen years and this is the thanks I get?”

  Adelaide stood her ground but her eyes betrayed her as they darted toward the bedroom door.

  Christian understood at once. “Marcus can’t save you now.” He watched for her reaction, disappointed. He’d lost his touch reading her expressions and was losing control of her.

  She hadn’t moved a muscle, and when her hand jolted toward him, his instincts barely had time to warn him as the knife reflected the light above.

  He reacted, wrapping his hands around her biceps to stop the movement. Anger flared hot inside his chest. He shoved Adelaide down onto the bed as he pushed himself on top of her. It was easy to wrest the knife from her hand, and even easier than he imagined to place it against her throat.

  Leaning down, he kissed her as hard as he could, letting her know she couldn’t escape. “You belong to me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was the one who saved your life. I was the one who gave you everything you could dream.” Gazing down at her, the anger grew hotter still.

  Adelaide didn’t struggle as she stared at him in fear, didn’t try to save her life.

  His hand squeezed the air out of her in submission as the other drew blood with the blade. Christian watched the droplets seep into her hair and onto the bed and suddenly felt relief.

  Releasing his hold, he pushed off from the bed, out of breath. He watched her trying to regain consciousness and threw the knife to the floor. He wouldn’t stay around long enough to see her fully awake.

  * * *

  She’d started counting the squares on the ceiling, lying perfectly still as reality came back to her with each breath. In the back of her mind, she knew Christian had left and felt someone else in the room.

  She’d experienced the same feeling at the building.

  Marcus peered down at her from above, getting in the way of the ceiling, but she didn’t care. Her throat throbbed, but she wouldn’t tell him how much. She refused to give Christian the credit.

  “What happened?” He grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed, draping it over her limp form. “Did he hurt you?”

  She only stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. Not even Marcus’s voice made her concentrate.

  He lay down next to her on the bed, running his fingers over her throat. He pulled away with blood, but failed to pull a reaction from her.

  She’d gone dead inside.

  Adelaide closed her eyes, letting the familiar numbness overtake her body as she coaxed the monster out to plan her revenge.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He hadn’t been home in over a week, hadn’t been able to see or speak to his family, friends or team to let them know he hadn’t died. Pulling into the driveway, Marcus turned the car off, resting his hands on the steering wheel. He felt relieved to be home but nervous at the same time. Getting kicked out of Christian’s house had set him back. How would he find evidence against Scott’s murderer if he couldn’t stay close?

  Squinting through the sleeting rain, he searched his dark living room through the window. No movement. Nothing.

  But something in his gut told him to be wary.

  If he was going to be ambushed, he wanted to know by whom.

  There.

  Movement from inside pulled his attention toward a mere flutter of the curtains on the right-hand side of the window. Marcus twisted the keys in the ignition, starting the rental’s engine. He pulled the gearshift into reverse, ready to get the hell away, but slammed on the breaks.

  An SUV blocked the driveway.

  Throwing the car back into park, Marcus exhaled in frustration and waited.

  Two large shadows climbed from the SUV and converged on either side of him, their wet coats visible through the car’s windows. The men didn’t move or make any advance toward him, but he wasn’t fooled. They weren’t here for a nice visit.

  Shoving his shoulder against the door, he pushed his way out into the freezing rain. The pelts of water made him blink repeatedly, his eyes adjusting to the change of temperature. He didn’t bother to ask why they’d taken up residence in his own house because, standing at his front door, Harlow Vicente waited for him.

  Marcus trudged up the driveway, keeping his head down as he studied the two henchmen beside him. Each armed, they reminded him of soldiers rather than hired muscle. Not only would they be ready for battle, they could lay siege to a small town with the amount of weapons they carried.

  “Agent Grant, thank you for finally joining us,” Harlow said, his arms wide in welcome. “I expect you found the place okay?” He smiled at his own joke, but Marcus only nodded.

  Pushing himself up the stairs, he stood face-to-face with the Mexican, waiting to hear why Harlow had been so kind to drop by for a visit. “You want to tell me why you sent two men after Wren last night? I thought we had a deal.”

  Harlow’s yellow-brown teeth showed from beneath cracked lips as he smiled. “Come, let us talk privately. We have much to discuss.” Walking through the front door as if he owned the place, he made his way into the living room and fell onto the leather love seat positioned against the window. “Please,” he said and motioned. “Sit.”

  Marcus moved slowly, keeping his eyes on Harlow, but watched the henchmen in his peripheral vision. “You realize that this is my house, right?” He sat. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you right now for breaking and entering.”

  Crossing one leg over the other, Harlow represented the perfect picture of ease, as if Marcus hadn’t just threatened him. “Agent Grant, you came to me. Remember? You wanted inside Wren’s organization and I put you there. I got you the meeting. In return all I asked was that you would drop the charges you hung over my head and you complied. Our deal was carried out. We each did our part. I broke no such trust.”

  He listened to each and every word carefully, processing the hidden meaning, and realized Vicente spoke the truth. Nothing in their negotiations prohibited Harlow from coming at Wren for his own reasons. Marcus had just assumed it wouldn’t be necessary. “So what do you want with Wren? Money? Guns?”

  As Harlow’s black eyes leveled with his, his expressi
on lightened. “No, Agent Grant. I will settle my disagreement with Wren in time. What I want is a little more complicated than that and something only you can provide.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows resting against his knees. The pristine suit he wore wrinkled down the sides, but Harlow didn’t seem to mind.

  Marcus’s mind raced over the possibilities. “I’m going to assume you don’t mean time behind bars.”

  A smile cracked at the edges of the crime lord’s lips. “I only wish to take back what is rightfully mine.”

  “Get on with it,” Marcus snapped. He hadn’t come home to visit with Vicente. Exhaustion weighed him down. He had work to do.

  Harlow leaned back against the leather love seat, a little too comfortable for Marcus’s taste. “I want Adelaide and the only way I can have her is with Christian out of the picture. My original plan of bribing your friend and the ADA to obtain the ledger didn’t turn out so well. Now, I’m turning to you.”

  “You bribed Scott?” Marcus couldn’t help himself, letting a chuckle escape between his lips as he leaned forward. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his fingertips, he let the information sink in. “Seems like you wasted your money. You think Wren will let you take her from him?”

  “Not me, Agent Grant. You.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He waited for Vicente’s smile, some sign the Mexican had made a joke, but only met sobriety. Marcus tensed, his eyes searching the ceiling so he didn’t have to look at Harlow. Hands behind his head, he spoke in clipped sentences.

  “Why would I do this for you?” His eyes darted back to the man in his living room. “You want to add blackmail of a federal officer to your sheet?” He’d never seen Harlow so serious and waited for the ball to drop.

  “I have something you want, Agent Grant, and I’m fairly certain you’ll do just about anything to get it.” Vicente stood, straightening his jacket and slacks before he passed Marcus and walked to the door.