10
Hope
“Simon? What is all this?” I ask, staring at the laptop screen. At rows and rows of ledger entries totaling millions of dollars. Each is marked with a code. MX-F. CA-M. TX-M. NV-F. States? Countries?
He leans down, caging me against the desk with his arms. I want to squirm. But that would make him angry, and the bruises on my arms still ache where he grabbed me and shook me two days ago.
“You’ve done an excellent job managing the finances for the art gallery, my sweet. But that’s only one of my businesses. This is the other.”
Thirty minutes later, my eyelids feel like sandpaper. I swipe at the tears that won’t stop falling and peer up at him. “No, Simon. I won’t be a part of this. Buying and selling people? You’re a monster.”
His palm connects with my cheek, so hard and fast, the fancy desk chair spins. I tumble to the floor. Pain sings up my arms. My knees ache where they hit the marble.
“You’re a part of this already, Hope. How do you think I hide all this money? The art gallery cleans it for me. You clean it for me.”
Oh, God. I cover my face with my hands, unable to stop the sobs wracking my body. I’ve helped him. All those young men and women he forces to work in his brothels across the western United States? I’ve helped him torture them. Trap them. Keep them.
“Stop the water works,” he snarls. “Get to work or I will lock you in your room until you forget what the sun looks like.”
“Hope?” Wyatt brushes his knuckles along the curve of my jaw, and I jerk back with a gasp. A plate—with a grilled cheese sandwich—lands on the table with a clatter, and his hand falls away. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say quietly, unwilling to meet his gaze. My stomach rumbles, and I swallow hard to force my memories into a tiny box where they can’t hurt me. “That smells great.”
He drops into the chair next to me with a sigh. “You haven’t said a word since we got back.”
No. Because all I can think about is how easy it would be for Simon to get to me. And you.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I focus on the window. “The snow’s melting.” A few patches of green peek through the expanse of white outside the big picture window. “Are you sure he won’t get here before your friend?”
“He’d have to find this place first. The snow would have hidden my tracks from where I found you, and this place isn’t on any map, GPS, or satellite.”
“How did you manage that?” Taking a bite of the sandwich, I try not to moan. God, I’ve missed carbs and butter and cheese so much. Even the fake, bright orange “cheese food” that makes the best sandwiches.
His lips twitch, about as close as he gets to a smile. “West. Or folks he knows, anyway. His wife designs security systems for big corporations. And Wren—she’s married to Ryker, the head of the K&R firm—is a hacker. She keeps this place off of satellite scans.” He runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders hunched and the hint of amusement in his expression gone in the blink of an eye. “I wanted to disappear, and they made it happen.”
No one should ever want to disappear. Though I suppose I do. Or at least…I need to.
Reaching across the table, I drape my hand over his. “You’re a good man, Wyatt. Why did you think you had to disappear?”
He doesn’t answer. Just shakes his head and turns his whole focus to his plate. Dammit.
“You don’t look like a coward,” I say with a shrug.
“A coward?” Wyatt chokes down a bite of sandwich and clears his throat. “What the fuck, Hope?”
“Every time you get close to sharing something real with me, you shut down.” Lifting my gaze, I find pain in his eyes, along with something else. Need? Loneliness? If only he’d tell me. “Tomorrow, I’ll be gone. And all I want before I go is…you.”
His chair scrapes over the polished wood planks, and then he’s lifting me to my feet. When his lips slant over mine, I don’t even try to hide how much I need him. My fingers find his belt, but he stops me before I can undo the buckle.
“Hope. This is a bad idea,” he says, warning lending a rough edge to his voice. It doesn’t scare me. Wyatt doesn’t scare me. He makes me feel protected and warm and tingly all over.
“This—” I gesture between us, “—is the first thing I’ve wanted in a very long time that I can actually…have.”
That’s all it takes. Pulling off my ripped sweater to expose my bra, the most possessive growl rumbles in his chest. “You’re never wearing his clothes again. I’ll burn them if I have to.”
After what I’ve been through the past three years, those words shouldn’t turn me on, but they do. Because Wyatt will never hurt me. It’s in his DNA. The very core of who he is. Honesty. Valor. And above all, honor.
“We can burn them. Later.” Sliding my hand up to curl around his neck, I pull him closer. His kiss burns so hot, my clothes are in danger of catching fire all on their own. Strong arms wrap around me, holding me close.
