“It does change everything. The colonel was Adam’s father.”
“What?”
“Where is this event?”
“It’s some fundraiser at a hotel with some big shot senator.”
Some senator. Jesus. I head for the door. “I’m going to kill that bastard for letting her step foot in that hotel. I’m going to do it right now.”
“I don’t think so.” London puts her body between me and the door, which is probably the most dangerous thing she’s ever done. It’s like standing between a caged lion and the exit. It’s asking to get her head crushed. “It’s some black-tie fundraiser.”
“And?”
“And you’ll never get through the door looking like a busted-up mountain man. Is that blood on your pants? Is it possible you were mauled by a bear on your way here? You look terrible.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yeah, no. Get in the shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”
I normally don’t take orders from people like London Frank, but I can’t argue with her assessment. The shower is heaven and hell all at once. The hot water is heaven. The water on the scrapes and cuts is hell. Washing my hair is heaven. Putting my hands above shoulder level is hell. Life is a tapestry of bullshit.
The shower takes time I don’t have. When I come out of the bathroom London is waiting with menswear slung over one arm. I don’t even ask where she found a tux in her cardboard box of an apartment. “I think it’ll fit,” she says, eyes skimming over the cuts and bruises on my torso. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be going to a hospital?”
“Give me the clothes.”
I climb into them piece by piece, London standing by like a dressing room attendant. There’s a moment when I’m pulling the undershirt over my head that my cracked rib protests and I freeze, letting the pain run its course.
“Jesus,” she whispers.
“He had nothing to do with this.”
I finish dressing in the suit and step back into the bathroom. The man in the mirror is unrecognizable, and it’s not just because of the bruises on his face and the tight set of his jaw. I’m going to wear my teeth down to nubs if I don’t get some painkillers soon. But more painful by far than the beating is being apart from Holly.
More painful than that is the possibility that by going after her, I could put her in more danger.
That’s always been the way with us, hasn’t it?
No use fighting.
London pokes her head in. “I called you a car. It’s waiting outside.”
“Thanks.”
“You will protect Holly, won’t you?”
With any luck Holly won’t have gotten near the senator. Or maybe it’s another senator. There are ninety-nine others, after all. But I have a sinking feeling about this. Adam would know more about his father’s shady business than anyone else. If he’s determined to help Holly, if he decided to try and find me, he would know where to start looking.
I have the driver make a single stop on the way to the hotel.
When I get there, the fundraiser is in full swing. No one looks twice at me as I move through the front doors. Every step is agony. It’s not the long-distance walk that did so much damage, it was the fact that I did it after getting the shit beat out of me.
Even Dax wouldn’t recommend a hike like that after a torture session.
I don’t see Adam in the ballroom, which is my first clue that Holly’s not where she’s supposed to be. A few guys mill in a side hall, looking into an overflow room.
One of them says something to the others, and then they’re on the move, heading quickly in the opposite direction.
I follow them.
Let this not be a distraction.
It’s up a floor to the parking garage. Two of them split off, going up, and one jogs into the rows of cars and disappears.
“I’m not going with you.” Holly’s voice echoes off the concrete supports and my heart seizes. It’s hard to tell which direction the sound is coming from so I start walking, trying to keep my footfalls light. “Let go of me.”
I walk faster.
I find her at the end of the row, another man’s hand locked around her upper arm. She has one palm braced on the frame of a car, the open door yawning next to her.
The senator increases the pressure on her arm and she cries out. “I’m still not going,” she says, fighting but not getting very far. “Let me go. I’ll scream.”
“Scream, then.” He’s impatient and he looks even worse than the last time I saw him. “My men are all over this parking garage. There’s no way in hell you’re getting free.”
I understand exactly how Holly felt at her apartment, the certainty that she felt when she shot the colonel, the determination to destroy everything that might hurt her. It’s no surprise that I love Holly. I think I’ve loved her since Italy, since France. I’ve loved her since the first time I kissed her in Paris, but the shock is that she loves me.
She risked everything to save me. That’s love.
I let out a battle cry and run toward them at full speed. The senator sees me. His eyes widen. He tries to turn so that Holly will be his human shield, but she chooses that moment to jab him in the stomach with her elbow. It keeps him off balance, and I throw him against the car. A punch to his chiseled jaw feels amazing. Another one to his stomach is cathartic. I don’t realize how far gone I am until Holly stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“He’s down,” she says softly.
Yes. He’s down. Unconscious. Battered and bloody. He’s not dead, though, and it would be so easy to twist his neck. More bodies lying in the colonel’s wake, and that means more danger to Holly.
I keep him alive.
Not because he deserves it, but because he’s more useful if we can threaten him with exposure to take the heat off our backs.
And maybe I keep him alive because I’m done being a killer.
There’s a final second of separation and then Holly is in my arms. It feels so good to have her there that I could die now and be happy. But no—I can’t die, because Holly is here, and her shoulders are shaking, and she needs me.
I’ll live forever. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll live forever so I never have to let her down.
It’s only when she tips her face to mine that I see she’s not crying. She’s shivering, probably from shock and cold, but her eyes are dry. Her hands work over my suit, touching and touching and touching like she doesn’t believe I’m here. I barely believe I’m here. She slips one hand around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss. It hurts to be touched but I’ll be damned before I let her stop. I’ll go all the way to hell and back before I let her stop. I’ve been there before. I can make it out again.
“You came for me.” Her voice trembles with love and I’ve never heard anything as lovely. Never in my life. There’s trust there, trust that I don’t deserve but will take as long as she gives it to me. “You came for me, Elijah.”
“I’ll always come for you, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elijah
The last time I drove Holly to her apartment she was minutes away from being shot.