It’s bigger than an average American house. Five bedrooms and six bathrooms, nestled deep within the woods, away from prying eyes. It’s even more secluded than Lakeside College. Here, you’re over an hour away from civilization in any direction. A thick canopy of trees shields the property, moonlight filtering through the gaps to cast shadows over the driveway.
“I take it it’s bulletproof?” Koby motions at the glass living room wall once Ryder opens the car door for me.
Sliding out without waking Hailey is a fucking feat, but I manage it while keeping her in my arms. She’s buried herself into my neck so close I feel the quiver of her eyelashes againstmy skin with every breath she takes. I wonder how little she slept at Blaze’s that none of this has roused her.
“The entire building is bulletproof, starting with the windows and ending with reinforced steel walls,” I tell Koby. “You know how crazy Dante gets with Layla. He’d lock her in a padded room if he could.”
Broadway smirks beside me, jutting his chin at Hailey. “Something tells me you’re worse than him.”
Ignoring their snickering, I approach the main entrance, punching the access code into a keypad on the wall. The biometric scanner does its thing, illuminating my face with blue light before the locks click, letting us in.
Ryder opens the door, stepping aside.
The faint scent of pine fills the open-space living area, bathed in the soft glow of warm LED lighting. The sitting room, fully equipped with a huge TV, rows of tall bookcases, and emerald furnishings fills the right side. That’s where Broadway aims, his heavy steps muffled by plush carpet as he flings a drinks cabinet open. Koby’s on the other side, making a mess in the sleek, modern kitchen.
Ryder gets familiar with the security system panel by the front door. “Want me to disarm the internal alarms and switch off the bedroom cameras?” he asks, the humor in his voice not lost on me.
“Yeah and activate the outside motion sensors.” I glance at Hailey when she stirs in my arms, expecting her pretty, sleepy eyes to look up, but she’s still asleep.
I cross the room and carry her up the spiral staircase, then into the bedroom at the end of the upstairs hallway. As I brace another complicated sequence of maneuvers to get her in bed, she finally stirs.
“Sleep, pretty girl,” I whisper, pulling the comforter up to her chin. “I’m still here.”
She blinks at me but doesn’t say a word. Her eyes close and within seconds she’s asleep again, utterly exhausted. I don’t move for a long time, staring at her while the fear that’s poisoned my mind for days finally subsides.
It’s not until she shifts, nuzzling deeper into the pillows, that I decide it’s time to deal with my sorry-ass state. I deliver my luggage to the bedroom across the hall from Hailey’s and take a shower. Standing under the hot stream for ten minutes, I marvel in the sensation of my knotted muscles loosening slowly while the grime, sweat, and blood swirl into the drain.
Steam clouds the en suite by the time I dry off. I want to crawl beside Hailey and sleep for a week, but until we talk, I can’t invade her personal space. I have no idea what she’s been through, how much she’s figured out—whether she still wants me.
Instead of sleeping with her, I’ll stay here, alone. I’m about to fall face-first onto the large bed when I catch my reflection in the mirror. Blood seeps from the wound on my shoulder, quickly drenching my t-shirt.
Looks like sleep has to wait.
On my way downstairs, I crack Hailey’s bedroom door open, checking if she’s still asleep. The nightlamp casts a warm, muted glow across her calm face, making me pause.
I can’t fucking believe I have her back.
The past few days replay like a haunted reel in my head. Every moment she wasn’t with me, not knowing whether I’d find her in time, the dark scenarios infesting my mind every goddamn minute... fucking torture.
The comforter rises and falls steadily in time with her breathing, helping me calm the fuck down. She’s okay. She’s safe. She probably has as many questions as I do, but we’ll work through them one by one once she’s rested. It takes a lot ofwillpower to walk out and close the door behind me when all I want to do is hold her close.
My men sit by the fireplace, each with a glass of Bourbon, a fourth waiting for me on the coffee table.
“Is she alright?” Broadway asks, sprawled in the armchair, his glass resting on his knee.
“She’s asleep.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She didn’t wake up.” I open the fridge, taking out a bottle of water. “She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”
“That she is,” Broadway pipes in. “You guys should’ve fucking seen them at Noretto’s. Don’t get me wrong, she was scared, but she kept moving.”
“I did see them,” Ryder says, reminding Broadway he watched the whole thing over the surveillance system. “Never thought I’d see the day...” He pins me with a curious stare from across the room, “...when you’d charge through gunfire like a man possessed for a girl.”
“Now you’ve seen it all.” I take a seat, my ears perked up, listening closely for any sound from upstairs.
The burn of the amber liquid down my esophagus proves a pleasant distraction from the cacophony of my thoughts and the dull throb in my shoulder.
