Page 52

“What the hell is all of this?” Christian heaved his rather large, bloated body out of his chair, doing his best to look menacing. I knew better. I saw the sweat beading on his forehead as he took in what was unfolding, the sickly pallor of his skin as the truth became clear. He had been stupid enough to fuck with me, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to see it was all coming to an end.

He was, however, going to keep up the act as long as possible. “Get the hell out of my office unless you have a warrant. What are you doing here?”

“Christian Lawrence?” The detective held up his badge in one hand, the warrant in the other. “As it turns out, we do have a warrant. You can come along quietly and answer questions about the attempted murder of Winter Monroe, along with other charges, or we can put you in cuffs and lead you out for everyone to see. News of your arrest will be all over the internet before we reach the station. It’s up to you.”

His tongue darted over his lips. Was he regretting putting his scheme in motion? Ordering the assassination of an innocent woman after the threats he’d sent wasn’t enough to get her out of town? He must have thought going directly after me would be too much, too high-profile. Like Mom, he considered Winter expendable. That was his biggest mistake.

I was short on thrills lately, so watching the bastard crumble while being read his rights damn near sent a shiver down my spine. When his panicked gaze met mine, I could only smile. Isobel had nothing to do with the shooting or anything else, and according to Grayson, Mom was completely blameless, at least when it came to this. There were still issues we needed to settle, but there was no record of her being in contact with Christian or any unidentified person since the brief call she’d made to him after leaving my suite the day I had told her everything I knew.

He didn’t say a word to me, but he didn’t need to. The hatred in his cold, resentful gaze told the whole story. I watched as he was led out past his tearful assistant. “Call my lawyer,” he told her before he stepped into the elevator. I decided to wait with Grayson while Burrows and the others took Christian downstairs rather than ride with them. It was enough to watch the man sweat buckets as the doors slid closed. I didn’t need to smell him too.

“The DA is going to request he be remanded,” Grayson murmured softly enough that only I would hear, though the sobbing from the girl now on the phone with Lawrence’s lawyer almost drowned him out. “He’s too much of a flight risk to be released on bail. You can tell Winter there’s nothing else to worry about. It’s over now.”

I nodded and said, “If she’ll listen to me,” while remembering what looked like hatred in her eyes that night at her mother’s. The last night I saw her.

He snorted until he realized I wasn’t kidding. “So you’ll make her listen.”

“She hated me for letting it happen. I was the reason for it.”

“After what she saw that night? You expect her to be rational? She was scared as hell, and she has a kid to think about. Of course, she pushed you away. It was all she could do. It was the only control she thought she had.” When he caught me staring at him, curious, he shrugged. “Sometimes pushing away the people we care about seems like the only thing we can do, even if it’s not what we want.”

The elevator car returned, and we entered. It was a relief, escaping that girl’s pitiful weeping. “I’m not going to beg her to take me back.”

“Who said you’d have to?”

“You don’t know her the way I do.”

“Fuck it, then,” he replied with a shrug. “She’s not worth it if she’s going to make you grovel.”

“Save your breath,” I grunted, shaking my head at him. “This reverse psychology shit doesn’t work on me.”

“Hey, you can’t say I didn’t try.” We reached the garage level, where the marked cars were on their way out. One of them carried Christian Lawrence, whose personal hell had only just begun. What was the point of any of it? What was he hoping to achieve? Not that it mattered. He had failed.

Hadn’t he? If the goal was to keep us apart, he’d succeeded. Winter was alive, but she planned on leaving for good, handing the show over to an assistant, and starting fresh in New York. She would leave my life anyway.

What the fuck am I doing? Letting him win? “Fuck that,” I announced out loud.

“Pardon?” Grayson was enjoying this a little too much, watching me work things out. A wry smirk played over his mouth as we reached my Mustang parked beside his truck.

“Give my apologies to the guys later,” I told him, referring to the dinner we were supposed to share at Sebastian’s restaurant. “But you might want to let Vaughn know a certain hotel and casino will be up for grabs soon.” Wouldn’t that be the final nail in the coffin—that murderous bastard finding out his precious casino was taken from him in an asset seizure?

“Honestly?” Grayson called out as I unlocked my door. “If you weren’t going to her now, I would’ve thrown you in the truck and taken you to her myself.” I rolled my eyes, the sound of his laughter dying off only once I was inside the car with the door closed.

She had to come around now. I needed to believe that as I tore through town on my way to the house. I had done exactly what I promised. I’d made sure no harm would come to her or our boy because nobody hurt what was mine.

The sight of moving vans outside the house made my chest seize as I rounded the corner at the end of the block. I can’t be too late. She couldn’t have left yet. But what if she has? It wouldn’t matter. I would fly to New York. I would have flown around the world if that was what it took. This time, I was not letting her go.

Parking across the street, I jogged up to the front door, dodging a pair of men carrying what I recognized as Liam’s dresser. No! No fucking way. How could she leave without at least saying goodbye?

“Please, make sure to wrap blankets around that,” she called out from inside, and relief threatened to take my knees out before I took hold of myself and followed one of the movers into the bare living room.

She was in the kitchen, wrapping dishes in layers of newspaper. “I only need a little more time with this,” she announced without looking my way as I approached. “Otherwise⁠—”

I forgot to breathe when she found me watching from the doorway. Her shoulders sank a little, and something close to disappointment drew her brows together. “You’re wasting your time,” she whispered, brushing dust out of her hair with a wave of her hand. “Things are already in motion.”

“So I see. You were planning on taking Liam across the country without at least letting me say goodbye?” Anger and disappointment were a potent combination that refused to ease up, no matter how reasonable I tried to be. “Didn’t you consider even once what that would mean? What I might do to bring him back if I put my mind to it?”

“I thought about that.” She offered a scowl, placing a plate on top of the pile. “And I told myself you weren’t a big enough bastard to do anything so low. Don’t prove me wrong. He doesn’t deserve the trauma.”