by Tara Wyatt
Theo laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Max, the accident was a long time ago now.”
He shrugged off Theo’s hand. “Could we maybe not talk about the worst day of my life on my birthday?”
Theo held his hands up in apology. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Max stood, his face a stony mask. “I need some air.” He tossed his napkin down on the table, stalking toward the door.
And Willa watched him go, her face twisted in concern, her fingers curled around her napkin.
Lucian dropped back into his vacated chair. Sweat beaded along his brow, and he’d lost his tie somewhere, his shirt now open at the collar.
Sebastian smirked. “Where’d you go?”
Lucian smiled. “I told you. A little business to take care of.”
Theo frowned. “What’s that on your collar?”
Sebastian leaned forward, taking in the tiny bright red drops dotting the white collar of Lucian’s shirt.
Lucian quirked an eyebrow. “Spaghetti sauce. I was in the kitchen.” His gaze held an air of quiet challenge.
“I…didn’t think you served spaghetti here,” said Sebastian carefully.
Lucian smiled again. “We don’t, but I made an exception for a customer I’ve been wanting to see for a long time.” It was then that Sebastian noticed that the knuckles of Lucian’s right hand were red and starting to swell.
Theo’s eyes were wide and he sat back in his chair. “I need to not hear any more of this conversation. The less I know, the better.”
“I agree,” said Lucian casually. “I think I’ll go change.”
“You might want to burn that shirt,” Sebastian murmured. He knew what kind of circles Lucian ran in. He’d once famously admitted to Lauren that he wasn’t in the mafia, just mafia adjacent. Whatever the hell that meant. But Sebastian wasn’t going to question it or give him shit because Lucian and his sketchy connections had bailed him out countless times. He was a ruthless bastard but relentlessly protective of anyone he considered family.
He stood and then clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “I really like Kayla. She’s beautiful, smart, and clearly good for you. And you obviously adore each other. Be good to her, Bastian.”
He grinned. “That’s the plan.”
18
Kayla adjusted the blanket around herself and then took a sip of her tea. Night had fallen over the city, and a cold, icy rain smacked against the windows of her apartment. March was always one of her least favorite months because the weather was so lousy. It was like this limbo between winter and spring, with the worst of both seasons making an appearance. Normally, on a Saturday night like this she’d be with Sebastian, preferably naked. But he had his big competition with Chase this weekend, and she had work to catch up on, so they’d reluctantly agreed to spend the weekend apart. It was their first in the month since that first weekend they’d spent together when he’d rescued her and then swept her off her feet with amazing sex and open vulnerability.
And so she’d spent the day trying to keep herself busy with work, but after a few hours her focus had petered out completely because all she could think about was how much she missed him and how much she was looking forward to seeing him next weekend. Everything in her world just felt so much better when she was with him. Everything felt so right.
She was in love with him. She knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. They hadn’t said the words yet, but she had a feeling they would soon. They’d already talked about him moving back to the city in April, when ski season ended, so they could be closer together. Her lease on her apartment with Willa wasn’t up until August, but maybe then she and Sebastian could look for a place together. He still didn’t know what he wanted to do, but with all of the progress he’d made, she was confident he’d figure it out.
Icy pellets bounced off of the window, drawing her attention away from the TV and the Grey’s Anatomy marathon she was indulging in with Willa. Then she glanced down at her phone, waiting for Sebastian’s text to let her know he’d made it safely back to Blizzard Ridge. She hoped the weather was better in Vermont than it was here. She hated the idea of him driving on icy roads in the dark.
A knock sounded on the door and Kayla and Willa looked at each other.
“Delivery,” said a man’s voice from the other side. “I have flowers for Kayla Bristowe.”
Willa let out a tiny little squeal of excitement. “Your first weekend apart and he sent you flowers! That’s so sweet!” She tossed the blanket aside and bounded off the couch, rushing to the door and pulling it open before Kayla could wonder why the doorman hadn’t buzzed them about a delivery.
Suddenly, the door flew all the way open, hitting the wall with a bang. Willa went stumbling back, giving Kayla a view of two men standing in her doorway with grim expressions on their faces. She froze, panic pinning her in place, making her limbs feel like they were made of concrete.
This was a home invasion, and it was targeted given that they knew her name.
The first man was tall and thin, in his mid-forties and bald with a graying goatee. His appearance was completely ordinary—except for the gun clutched in his hand. The other man was younger and smaller, with light brown hair, a beaky nose, and a nasty sneer pulling his thin lip up.
With shaking hands, Kayla scrambled for her phone, lying somewhere under the blanket Willa had disturbed when she’d gotten up from the couch, but the bald man immediately trained his gun on her as his partner closed the door.
“Do not call the police. Do not scream. Do not do anything to draw attention. Or I’ll shoot you both, right between the fucking eyes. You got me?”
Kayla nodded, her fear morphing into sheer terror. Her heart raced at record speed, making her feel dizzy.
The younger man waved his gun at Willa. “You. On the couch beside her.”
Willa moved across the apartment with jerky, stuttering movements, her face ghostly white. She sank down beside Kayla and they immediately reached for each other, huddling close.
“We’re looking for Sebastian Prescott, and a little birdie told us that you know where he is,” said the bald man, his tone easy and casual as though he were talking about the weather. “You’re his girlfriend, right?”
Kayla sucked in a raspy breath, trying not to hyperventilate. Her lungs felt tight, her mind swimming. She tried to figure out a way she could survive this and protect Sebastian. “He’s…he doesn’t live here. He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s out of state. He’s not here.” Her pulse thrashed in her ears, making it hard to hear anything.
The younger man moved forward. “Listen. We don’t want to hurt you. We only want to know where he is. He owes our boss a lot of money and we’re just trying to collect.”
“How much money?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“About two hundred and fifty grand, give or take ten thousand,” said the bald man, sounding bored. “Why? Are you going to pay your boyfriend’s debt?”
She fought against another wave of dizziness, just trying to breathe. To think. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
The young guy smirked, looking around their apartment. “Didn’t think so. So just tell us where he is and it’ll be like we were never here.”
Kayla’s mind spun as she tried to figure out what to do, how she could keep everyone safe. “I don’t know. The last time I saw him was here in the city and he broke up with me.” Tears, fueled entirely by fear, sprang to her eyes and she blinked, forcing them to fall. “I don’t know where he is now.” She looked up, meeting the young man’s eyes. “Please, you have to believe me.”
He smiled at her and then slapped her across the face so hard her ears rang and her jaw screamed. “Don’t lie to me, you conniving little bitch. Our intel says you’re his girlfriend and that you went out of town to see him last weekend. Where?” When she didn’t answer right away, he lunged forward and grabbed her hair. “Tell us where the fuck Sebastian Prescott is!”
&nbs
p; “I don’t know,” she ground out through clenched teeth, hot tears streaming down her face from the pain of the slap, from the fear of what was about to happen to her and Willa.
“Useless bitch,” he sneered, shoving her against the back of the couch.
“I’ll look for clues. You stay here with them,” said the bald man. “Which bedroom is yours?” he asked, and Kayla pointed at the open door with a shaking hand. Her face throbbed but the rest of her felt numb. She clung to Willa, just trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest. They were going to die. These men were going to kill them. There was no way, even after they found out where Sebastian was, that they would just walk away and let them live when they could so easily identify them. She held Willa tighter, squeezing her eyes shut.
The sounds of her room being ransacked reached her. Drawers slamming, items hitting the floor, closet doors flinging open. Her mind raced as she tried to think if they could find anything that would tell them where Sebastian was. Her phone was somewhere under the blanket still. Oh God, what if they killed her before she was able to get a message to Sebastian to warn him? Her breaths came faster and faster, and it felt like the walls of her apartment were closing in on her.
“This is stupid,” said the bald man, coming back into the living room. “Let’s just dispose of the roommate and take Blondie back. I bet if he knows we have her, Prescott will show up.”
The young man tilted his head, apparently considering the suggestion. Willa was shaking so hard it felt like she was vibrating against Kayla. “That’s not a bad idea. If we take his girl, that might draw him out from wherever he’s hiding.”
Willa let out a soft sob and Kayla held her tighter.
“Please,” she said, desperation clawing at her. “I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt her. She has absolutely nothing to do with this. I’ll go with you willingly if you leave her alone.”
“Aw. Isn’t that sweet?” said the younger man, his voice sour with sarcasm. “You’re not in a position to bargain, Blondie. And you’re coming with us whether you want to or not.”
He started to move toward her when the door burst open again, this time revealing Max and Lucian in the doorway, and holy shit, Lucian had a gun. Which he used on the bald man immediately, shooting him in the foot. The man screamed and Max tackled him to the ground, wrestling his gun away from him.
Lucian stepped forward, his gun now trained on the young man. “Put your gun down,” he said calmly. “Or I blow your fucking brains out, right here, right now.”
The younger man only hesitated for a second before he slowly lowered his gun to the ground.
“Kick it to me,” said Lucian, the picture of steely calm, his gun still pointed at the man. He did and Lucian picked it up, tucking it into his waistband. Once the men were both unarmed, Max rose, taking his knee off of the bald man’s throat, his eyes burning with intensity as he stared at them, huddled together on the couch.
“Kayla, Willa. Are you hurt?” asked Lucian, still staring at the man in front of him.
“N-No. We’re okay,” said Kayla, tremors moving through her body. It suddenly felt ice cold in the apartment.
“Kayla. You have a hand print on your face. Which one of them hit you?” He waved his gun between the two men.
“Him,” she said, pointing to the young one.
Lucian sent a pitying look in his direction. “That was a mistake.” Then he glanced over his shoulder at Max. “Take them back to my place. I’ll handle this here.”
Willa and Kayla scrambled off the couch and toward Max, who pulled Willa into his arms, his palms roving up and down her back, over her head, her arms. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked, his voice raw.
“I’m okay,” she answered in a shaky voice. “I’m so glad you got my text.”
They shoved on coats and shoes in record time and then Max ushered them out of the apartment and into the stairwell, not wanting to chance waiting for the elevator. Before they’d reached the bottom floor, Kayla’s stomach heaved and she turned into the corner, throwing up her dinner. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and her vision kept closing in around the edges.
“I think I’m going to pass out,” she said, her voice shaky.
Max looped an arm around her waist. “Not until we get to the car.”
The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out from above them and she jumped. Max’s grip tightened on her as he bundled her and Willa down the stairs and out into the icy New York night.
It was three AM by the time Sebastian pulled his borrowed Blizzard Ridge SUV into a space in Lucian’s parking garage. He didn’t remember the four-hour drive from the resort to Manhattan. He didn’t remember the highway passing him by or the songs on the radio. He didn’t remember his hands on the wheel, his knuckles white the entire way, his jaw tight to the point of aching. All he remembered was the sound of Lucian’s voicemail, playing through his mind on a continuous loop.
Bastian, when you get this you need to come home. Two of Damian Coldhurst’s men invaded Kayla and Willa’s apartment tonight, looking for you. Thankfully, Willa was able to text Max and the women are both safe. I don’t know why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to get involved with Coldhurst, but it’s handled. For now. Come home and take care of your debt and your woman. She needs you.
Emotions churned sickly through him, swirling together until they were indistinguishable from each other. Guilt. Shame. Self-loathing. Remorse. Fear. Anger. They were all there, snarled together inside him, eating at him. Taking bite after bite out of the man he’d tried to become, reminding him of who he really was. An impulsive, worthless asshole who only brought pain and suffering to anyone foolish enough to care about him.
But on top of all of that, he felt a burning determination to do whatever it took to keep Kayla safe. He’d failed her. She’d almost been killed, and it was his fault. He’d caused this. Him, with his bad decisions and sketchy past. He’d pulled her into something she didn’t deserve. She was beautiful and pristine and he’d dragged her down into the filth of his life.
He took the elevator up to Lucian’s penthouse, not surprised to find him sitting in the living room waiting for him.
“Where is she?” Sebastian asked, a slight tremor to his voice. “I need to see her.” He didn’t deserve to even look at her, but he needed to get eyes on her. He wouldn’t be able to do anything else until he did.
“She’s sleeping in there,” said Lucian quietly, pointing in the direction of one of his guest rooms.
Not even bothering to take off his coat and boots, he crossed the space and carefully opened the door, the tight knot in his stomach loosening slightly at the sight of Kayla, her hair strewn over the pillow, her breathing slow and steady. He watched her for several moments, not wanting to take his eyes off of her. Knowing she’d been in danger while he was two hundred miles away made him want to fucking destroy something.
There wasn’t enough gratitude in the world for the fact that Willa had managed to text Max, and that Max and Lucian had just happened to be having dinner together at a restaurant not far from Willa and Kayla’s apartment.
She could’ve been murdered tonight. Because of him. Because of who he used to be.
Because of who he still was, deep down.
His jaw tight, he carefully closed the door to Kayla’s bedroom. As much as he wanted to hold her and tell her how fucking sorry he was, she needed to rest. And he wasn’t going to be able to do anything—sleep, eat, breathe—until he knew beyond a doubt that Kayla was safe for good.
He took off his coat and boots and then walked to the massive floor to ceiling windows, gazing out at the city. Even in the middle of the night, cars crawled through the streets and lights shone, illuminating the skyline. There were so many shadows. So many places for danger to lurk.
“She’ll be alright,” said Lucian quietly from behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “She’s tough.”
Sebastian grimaced, his throat tight with emoti
on. “She shouldn’t have to be tough. She shouldn’t have to deal with the fucking messes I made. I didn’t want any of this filth to touch her.”
“I thought I’d tracked down all of your debts,” Lucian said, his voice heavy with self-recrimination. “I never thought you were stupid enough to deal with Coldhurst.”
“I did a lot of really stupid, dangerous shit, Lucian.” Regret and shame sat like a boulder on his chest.
“Yes. You did.” He sighed. “If you needed money, why didn’t you just come to me? I could’ve helped.”
Sebastian shoved a hand through his hair, his entire body feeling as though it were made of lead. “Because I didn’t want you to know how bad it had gotten. You’d already taken my trust fund, already bailed me out with Fat Joey and the other loan sharks. I thought I could pay Coldhurst back. I was overdue for a big win, and when that happened, I’d be in the clear.”
“But you never paid him back, and then you left.”
“I thought I’d cleared everything up with him. I handed over my Piaget watch—the one you gave me for my thirtieth birthday—and thought we were square. I guess we weren’t.” His stomach was a hard rock and he had to force the next words out. “She could’ve died tonight because of me. Because of the things I—” He broke off, fighting back the anguished scream burning inside him.
Lucian turned to him. “But she didn’t. She’s safe, and I’ll fix this.”
Sebastian shook his head slowly. “No. I have to do it. I’ve spent so long running from responsibility, spent so long blaming everyone else for my problems. I have to be the one to fix this. To take responsibility for everything.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He was past the point of exhaustion. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for protecting her.”
Lucian squeezed his shoulder. “You’re my brother, and she’s your woman. No thanks needed. And if you think I’m letting you face Coldhurst alone, you’re batshit.”
“Bastian.” Kayla’s voice was a soft rasp from several feet behind him and he spun, his heart pounding against his ribs. She stood in the entrance to the hallway that led to her bedroom, her hair sleep-tousled. She appeared to be wearing a plain black T-shirt of Lucian’s and nothing else.
